(Entered in paper journal at 8:50 AM at Ozzie's coffee shop on 7th Avenue.)
Dream 1
It might have been early morning. I walked into "the Flying Saucer Cafe." It looked like a taller house with a kitchen in the living room and enough space in an area on the left side of the room for about six cafe tables. There was a little hallway. I headed toward that. There were doors to two bedrooms and a door to a restroom.
I had been looking for a woman. The tall man who works at Flying Saucer came out of the room. He looked a little different. he was a little upset and asked why I was here, as if it was too early for him to start practicing customer service.
I stuttered as I told the man that I had come at the request of a woman (I saw her in my mind: she looked like LW, a co-worker of mine based in Boston -- a stout woman with short, greyish hair, a little hippie-ish) who told me she would pass me information on something, either verbally or through literature.
As I spoke, the man had become shorter. His eyes were meaner, his face was full of stubble, and he now had a huge afro and wore a big, puffy jacket.
The man got mad and opened the door to the other bedroom. I got only a glimpse inside, but it looked really messy, and it might even have looked like a bathroom.
The man pulled out some printed out report and handed it to me. As I looked through it the guy walked past me and into the bathroom. I was really interested in some of the stuff I saw in the presentation. One page was full of photos, perhaps of album covers.
I spoke through the door to the guy, trying to let him know how grateful I was fro this report. But I could even feel that he didn't want to hear a word I said, so I stopped halfway.
I wondered if the woman would show up. I was disappointed she wasn't here. I walked back toward the door.
It was night. The place was now a lot more like a house. I wondered why I had ever liked it. The front door (now just like in a house) was wide open. There were blankets all along the floor, strung along beside boxes or TVs (?) like water might flow over or alongside rocks. My feet kept getting tangled in them.
When I got to the door three cats came up to me. One was orange. The other two had gently mottle-striped patterns of dark grey and brown-grey over silky grey-white and silver. The orange one climbed into my arms. The other two seemed a little jealous. They climbed all over my legs, trying to get up into my arms. I tried to put the orange cat down, but I couldn't. I tried to lift up the other two.
I now sat in a comfortable, red chair, possibly in a house like where I had just been. Daylight came in through a window above me. I had my legs stretched out on some stool or footrest. I was reading a report with some visuals on it.
For some reason I looked down at my pants. They were brown, like the ones I got at the Gap. They had a big splotch on the left (?) leg, like bleach had been spilled on them. I was a little sad about this, but then I wondered how I could be wearing these pants -- I had thrown them away only recently, after having gotten drunk and puked all over them and totally ruined them in Boston (in real life, in waking life).
I could see the pants changing into a darker pair, as if to hide the inconsistency.
But I held my thought. I thought, No. You're dreaming. That's why it's not consistent.
I became lucid. As soon as I thought that, my vision (?) or consciousness (?) drained almost to nothing. Again I almost let go of the lucid dream. But I held on. I could hardly see anything.
I forced myself to stand up. All the bodily sensations felt so real I wasn't quite sure whether I were dreaming lucidly or half-sleepwalking. My eyes felt closed. I tried to open them, but found it difficult. I felt so tired that I couldn't open my eyes. But I also felt afraid that if I opened my eyes, I'd lose the dream because my imagination was so bad that I wouldn't see anything.
But my eyes involuntarily "blinked" open a few times. A couple times the vision was just smeary, like dry eyes after sleep. But a couple other times I saw a view of some apartment (a basement apartment?) in the dark of early morning. This led me to believe that I was either sleepwalking in my own place or that if I opened my eyes the environment of lucidity would take care of itself.
So I forced my eyes open twice. Both times it took tremendous effort to look up beyond my legs. The first time I was wearing the brown pants again. I looked up and saw a clock that said 6:47. I thought, That seems like what time it might actually be in waking life. I felt even worse than before, and my eyes dragged down again. I felt horribly tired.
I opened my eyes again. I saw my legs. I was naked except for some black boxer briefs (?) and some camisole. The camisole sexually aroused me. The arousal dragged me down again. I almost closed my eyes. But I looked up. I saw a kitchenette like in the first part of the dream.
I was trying to calm myself down, but I couldn't keep my feelings of arousal muted. My body began spinning around dizzily, and I saw like one might see when standing still after having spun around a lot.
My eyes were forced shut again. I continued walking around the house, trying to open my eyes or balance myself, but I didn't. With my eyes closed I felt like I had been twisted around so that my body was now almost parallel with the ground, but with a little tilt, like the floundering of a fish.
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