(3/8/07) they all gleamed like morning stars; this story will be too intense for most

(Entered in paper journal at 6 AM at Starbucks on 56th Street and 6th Avenue.)

Dream 1

I was in a courtyard. There were a few people around, mostly about my age. The courtyard seemed somehow Mediterranean. I clutched something, maybe a metal seat or bench, and flew up into the air.

I was afraid that people would see me levitating and think I was crazy, especially because I was hanging onto a ratty metal chair/bench like this. But then I saw a couple other people levitating. A pretty, blonde girl floated up beside me. She told me it was okay to do this.

I looked out across the horizon. It was dimmish, liquidy pink, like sunrise, with a band of tan below the dark blue dome. People all over this (Mediterranean?) town were rising up in the distance -- there may have been ten or twenty of us. They all gleamed like morning stars.

Dream 2

I read a book given to me or written by my psychiatrist. I read a little of the middle, then I heard (?) my psychiatrist tell me to read the preface. The preface began with a weird apology like, "I know this story will be too intense for most."

She proceeded to tell the story of a young man, a relation of hers, who had killed himself. He had worked for the electric utilities division of some defense company. The division was called ROIC or RROIC. The man was found with a high degree of some ethyl chemical in him. The chemical seemed to have four names all together in one word.