(2/26/06) my outburst; the reject rejects; "my mom" and my mom

(Entered in paper journal at 9:07 AM at Starbucks on 1st Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)

Dream 1

I was in a room like an elementary school cafeteria/art room with plenty of windows and construction paper cutouts somewhere. I stood before a woman. I was yelling at her because she hadn't informed me of something or had left me out of something.

The woman kept a blank expression. I regretted a little that I had made the outburst, since the woman probably was now planning to use her power to punish me.

I had a Styrofoam container of a Halal rice dish and "salad," all in white sauce. I was shoveling all this food into my mouth. I almost finished the salad, which may have been the only thing left.

Dream 2

I sat in a dim, natural-lit room that may have had grey walls. There were two couches, one against the back wall, one against the right wall. I sat on the couch against the right wall.

Someone, maybe my senior coworker DB, was interviewing me for a Parks position. The man said something that made me realize I didn't want the position. I told him so.

Now I sat in a strange position facing the couch, watching while in my old position sat my friend (and a coworker from my time with Americorps in the NYC Parks) KB, except that maybe she was a man.

This person and "DB" got along really well. The person asked all kinds of questions I should have asked during my interview. I was welcome with the other two, but I could tell "DB" was happy he had gotten the other guy instead of me.

I tried to justify myself, saying, Well, I rejected the job, anyway. But I knew that really didn't matter.

Dream 3

I was with some of my family and maybe with my mom's friend TH's family. We were in the woods. It was night. We all sat on a barren or pine needle-strewn patch of ground bordered by a couple cars and before either a movie screen or a car with a movie screen on it. A movie was about to start.

TH and a person who was supposed to be "my mom" were bringing us plates of lasagna. But my mom (i.e. my actual mom) and some (?) members of the family weren't there. I suddenly felt a dread -- my mom was in extreme danger. I had to go to her. But TH and "my mom" (?) wouldn't let me go.

I was now in a kitchen like at the house my family lived in through my junior high and early high school years. It was dark, with lightning outside. "My mom" (different person again) stood above me as I, like a little kid, lay on my stomach. I then sat cross-legged. I still had to find my mom. But I at least felt that putting myself here got me closer to the heart of the danger I had to save my mom from.

"My mom" and I were making lasagna. I held the pan in my hands. We were half done. Chunks of seasoned sausage in the grease released by cooking filled the pan halfway. I may have eaten some of it.