(Entered in paper journal at 7:40 AM at home.)
Dream 1
I had a daughter who was about sixteen years old. I started allowing her to have sex with other members of the family. I also started having sex with her. I thought perhaps I was allowing too much by letting her have sex with my wife.
I penetrated my daughter from behind while she was on all fours. Part of me (me, actually, not whoever I was in the dream) wondered if I would be able to stand the feeling of my penis in the girl's vagina.
I saw a computer screen describing how the girl took over the family by making the mom fall in love with her. It was like an email. Parts of the text were black, and parts were blue, like the text of a reply email, though they were all together in one paragraph. I was going through the paragraph and turning everything blue.
Dream 2
I had gotten in a car with my brother. It was night. We were going to see a psychiatrist. But I had to go back into my mom's house. I had done laundry and left everything on my bed. I had left guy clothes and girl clothes. I didn't want my little nephew (maybe J?) to come into the room and see this stuff.
I went into the room and arranged the clothes in very dim light. I stuffed my girl clothes into a dresser. At some point I heard my sister say, "Your brother said he's going to the store to get a soda. He just can't wait anymore. Weren't you going with him?" I kept finding panties and lingerie in the pile, though, I couldn't leave until everything was put away.
Finally I almost left. My mom and my little nephew were in bed. I walked past my little nephew's open door. I told him goodnight. I hoped my mom wouldn't think that my saying that was grounds for me to be blamed for something like child molestation.
But now I saw I wasn't wearing pants or underwear. I ran back into the room to put something on. It seemed to take forever for me to put on my pants. In fact, I never actually got them on.
I watched out the window (the front window of the house?) and saw my brother pull away. I knew he wasn't going for a soda. he was going to the psychiatrist without me.
Dream 3
I was on a packed subway. Two big, black guys who were friends were taunting a little, white guy who sat beside his beautiful, blonde girlfriend.
The white guy looked kind of sloppy. His hair was bushy like the Beatles-style bowl-cut, and it was deep black. His skin was a pallid olive, and his face had a fattish, conceited look. He wore awful clothes, too big, drab-colored, sweaty looking. He was puny.
The white guy's girlfriend was more physically fit. She was dressed in classy, dark clothes and had a very solid appearance. Her blue eyes were very bright.
The black men might have said something about the woman, hoping that would turn her on, as a way to flirt. The white guy had answered back with a mean comment. The men were now taunting the man with remarks like, "Just leave him alone. He's a white man, anyway. We can kick his ass. He'll get his."
I could see the black men were trying to get the white man to fight. But the man just ignored them and read his book, giving his girlfriend an occasional glance to let her know everything was going to be okay.
I didn't like the white guy. But I thought I would be ready to fight on his side if the two black guys wanted to start any trouble.
Dream 4
I stood in a huge field in the daytime, watching jets take off. They took off in the distance and gained altitude over my head. I was slightly turned so they took off to my right and flew off to my left I couldn't make out what any of them were. They all had a strange look.
My mom stood to my left. I told her, "There are jets taking off here. Watch!"
Another jet took off. It looked like Ryu's jet in Gatchaman, except orange and red. I actually gave it an "F-" (i.e. fighter-jet) name.
The jet wobbled up and down as it passed over our heads. I knew it wasn't going to make it. I watched as it crashed into the small town in the distance. A huge jet of fire shot upwards. I moaned, "Oh, Christ, no."
Some rescue vehicle was pulling the jet back toward us. The jet was over us, hovering, as if in the tractor-beam of another aircraft which hovered nearby. The jet looked fine except for a couple burn marks and a small plume of fire constantly flowing from its "gas tank."
The pilot crawled out and tumbled down to the ground. He wore a white, plasticky outfit with a thick, red stripe down the middle and a white helmet. He was injured, but we didn't know how.
I saw a news program. The anchorman spoke about a contagious form of cancer the pilot had caught. He said the cancer got beneath the lower layers of your skin and attacked you there. The anchorman's face was cracked and veined, bloody. His eyes were popped open, like they had no lids. I thought, Doesn't he know he has this disease, too?
I watched as if time were passing, as the anchorman came on the program in different stages of decay. I saw other programs. Some people's jaws were gone. Other people's skin had completely smoothed their faces featureless and brown. One woman announced the news with a rotten, blue face. Another person's face was just bubbled, charred blackness and bones.
I now saw these images pass before me like the opening of an infomercial, while a song played, asking, What part of yourself do you hate the most?, as if this cancer were a new way for people to make themselves look good.
Dream 5
I stood before an advertisement at a bus stop. The ad kept changing, but it was for a TV program on the UFO conspiracy. The background was roiling red, like flames of an explosion.
Then there was white lettering and a black and white photo of a thin, tiny-spectacled, bald man with a mustache. The writing kept changing, but at one point it said something to the effect that in 1952 UFOs could have been shown as a truth once and for all to the public had the military allowed (Gregory Kosch???), the man in the photo, to present his evidence.
I thought, Well, this should prove to my psychiatrist A once and for all that these things are real.
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