I walked through an apartment complex with another person, possibly a man. The landing was inside. There were windows on the walls (like there were no apartments on the other sides of the walls). The landing and stairwells were roughly at right angles to one another, generally creating a square, although we seemed to have walked up a couple of side passages that would have altered the square shape.
We went up the floors. Some of the bottoms levels felt darkish, with deep green (?) walls and some kind of clutter, possibly hanging off low ceilings. I noticed some broken windows. I may have figured that we were here to find out why the windows were broken.
As we went up the floors became brighter. There may have been one or two broken windows on each floor, pretty consistent with the lower floors. But on the top floors, which were bright, with pink and red designed carpets, bright walls, and white-gold light pouring in, tons of windows were smashed. Glass was everywhere.
Some of the windows had signs on them, just big sheets of paper strung across them. They were all messages from the people who had broken the windows. One said something like, "Don't pay attention to these broken windows or I'll kill you."
The person with me figured the people who had done this were in the building right now or would come in to attack us. We had to keep going up to confront them.
I was afraid. The people could spring out and attack us at any time. But also the higher we went in the building the steeper and less stable everything seemed. I feel like some of the windows were stained glass.
Dream 2
A movie. A black woman who was part of a group of spies got caught and was being taken to be tortured for answers. But something happened to her: she had either been killed on the way to torture or she had taken a poison pill.
The woman was now being buried. She was very dark. She may have been dressed in tribal fashion as a burial custom. I didn't believe she could be dead. I saw a grave, which may have been an old-looking headstone atop a pile of dry soil in the side yard of a 1970s white-painted brick building. Two men may have been kneeling in front of the headstone. One was hispanic, the other black. Both wore khaki slacks and sleeveless, khaki shirts.
I thought I was seeing the moments before the woman's burial. But seeing the pile of soil, I thought perhaps she had already been buried.
The men were on the enemy's side, but they had sympathized with the woman. They had begun helping her, and now that she had died, they were praying for her. The black man in particular did a ritual movement, joining his hands, bending his arms to make his upper arms level with his shoulders and then unbending his arms straight up.
The two men looked to their left in sudden surprise and then hopped up and backed away to their right. The enemy, two or three of them, were bringing the dead body, which was now, to my disappointment, and confusion, a man.
The two men, who had been praying a blessing on the women (who was apparently now not in the grave) had not wanted to be seen doing good things for the woman (although now she may never have existed?).
I wondered how the enemy men could bury the man in a grave that was already covered. I thought they might magically lower him through the soil. But they opened up the headstone to shove him in there.
The man was now still alive. He was hispanic with blue eyes. He had long hair and a round face. He looked like Eddie Vedder but a little out of shape and soft. His skin was clear but scarred slightly by old acne. He wore a darkish t-shirt.
As the enemy closed the door of the headstone, the man muttered, cowardly, "This is all a joke, guys. Right? Right?" I knew now that the guy had been suffocated in the grave.
The move, as if on TV, went to a commercial which was for the evening news. The anchor said the head story would be about a new grocery store in the area, and how it just illustrated how the city had changed over the years. But I thought, "This is a coastal California town. It's always been busy."
I stood before the new grocery store's entrance. The building was in a c-shape. Its front was on the inside of the c. The inside of the c faced the beach and was a sandy, hex-brick "courtyard." The building was all white. Its front was window walls which showed a walkway, like the building was a mall and the grocery store only a part of it.
The walls and floors inside were like white tiles. The place was empty. Through the window walls I couldn't see where any stores would be. There might have been a couple stray workers pushing carts around. It was a grey day, possibly about to rain.
I thought, "Besides, this building hasn't taken anything away from the charm of this city. The city's what it's always been."
I saw (as if somehow looking through a window that went straight through the building) the rest of the city. It looked like a roadside town in the mountains of Colorado. There were some fast food joints, gas stations, etc. A lot of cars pulled in and out of everything.
One store in particular I could only see a part of. Its sign was half blocked, and I could only read "kins." At first I thought the building was a Hardee's-style fast-food restaurant. But I moved to my right and saw the whole sign, which said something like "Jenkins." I realized the building was something like a drive-thru or quick-serve place where you could be advised in how to invest in stocks.
Dream 3
I was in an office, which looked more like a house. I took a report into my boss BS's office/bedroom. The report was a two-pager, like what we would submit for the equity research department's monthly valuation report. I threw the report on BS's desk or bed. I walked out.
An interaction that I had with some pretty girl pointed out that I had prefaced the report with a paragraph either of rude remarks made to BS or completely false statements made out of defiance toward BS. I went back into the office/bedroom to change my mistakes, but I saw BS already sitting on his bed. He listened to a radio that sat on his desk.
A person, who I "saw" looked like Ron Jeremy (the porn star), was reading the reports. The words were all vague and "backgroundy," but I could tell he was reading my mistakes. BS just sat there listening like nothing was being said out of the ordinary.
I was in the "living room" again with the girl. It was like I hadn't been in the "office" with BS at all. The girl said, "You're gonna get caught for the things you said to BS." I now realized I had said stuff like, "I hate you," "You're an asshole," etc., all in a short first paragraph.
I didn't care about getting fired for what I'd said. I did care, slightly, about being taunted and teased by BS for what I had said. But most of all, I didn't want BS to feel sad about what I had said. I also didn't want the shame of knowing that I had broken down and said all this.
But suddenly I got mad, furious. I said, "I am mad! BS is an asshole! I fucking hate him! I fucking hate him!"
I started punching walls. I noticed that my punches were very weak. I couldn't punch so that my knuckles would hurt: I couldn't get up the speed. I walked from wall to wall, punching, but always moving slow and soft. Sometimes I didn't even make contact with the wall. I thought, How am I supposed to kick BS's ass with such a weak punch?
I thought to the movie Kill Bill, and how The Bride learned to punch through a 6-inch-thick board. Her knuckles were bloody. But I couldn't even feel the wall. In particular, my left arm barely moved.
I thought I might have a nerve disease. My left arm had almost no coordination. It was like it was getting heavier and heavier, without my being able to feel the weight. I was trying to punch a dresser drawer.
I was out walking with BS, my co-worker ES, and a couple other co-workers at night. We were on a cosmopolitan, clean, well-lit, brick-laid sidewalk. The place felt populated and alive, but I wasn't aware of anybody except us. We were all having a good time.
I thought, How could I have said such mean things about BS? he's such a good guy. I knew BS had read what I had written about him, though he hadn't said anything yet.
We got to some restaurant in the basement of a nice brick building. As we walked down the stairs, BS told me, "You aren't welcome here. The things you said show me you really don't want to be part of our group. Go find somewhere else to eat." I felt ashamed of what I had said, but I didn't feel bad for being shunned from everybody else.
I took a walk by myself through this nice neighborhood. I got to the edge of it and, on the opposite side of a busy but dark street to my right, saw a huge, white house that looked like a church. The windows of the church had weird movements of light behind or within (?) them, like enormous flames (like projected flames) were burning within the church. I stood on the corner.
From down the street, to my left, a fire truck whined and sped up the hill. It apparently went to the church.
I thought, I would have gone into the church to see what was going on. But now I probably won't be allowed. But now I was in the church. To my surprise, it was a Jewish synagogue. I couldn't see where the fiery lights had been coming from.
The lobby was a huge place where kids were putting on a presentation or doing a rehearsal. They were mocking Christianity. The whole thing was very modern, cheerful, like a sitcom, but it also had a weird, archaic, ritual sense to it.
In the actual sanctuary (?) I could see small flames. People in that area, adults, were burning Christmas trees. The trees were burning with the metallic, papery brightness of fireworks.
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