(4/16/06) a family of prostitutes; my lesbian manager

(Entered in paper journal at 8:12 AM at Starbucks on 1st Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)

Dream 1

I was with a family. We were in a confused apartment complex, out on the balconies, walking to "our new apartment." I was with the kids, but I wasn't quite a kid. I feel like I was just a spectator, immaterial.

But then I was "hanging over the shoulder" of a man like Michael Bluth from the TV show Arrested Development. The man watched two male adults leading the two children. The two men may have looked like Gob and Tobias.

The two men stood before the new apartment. One of them had a strap-on dildo and led the other into the apartment. He told "Michael/me," "Keep an eye on the kids. He and I have some business to take care of.

I was in a dark room lilt only with a deep blue light. The two kids sat on the floor. There were a boy and a girl. The girl was younger than thirteen but was very tall and emaciated. She wore trashy clothes and had a life-worn despair in her eyes. The boy wasn't much more than a vague entity. The boy and girl sat across from each other, playing a game like cards, using chips for counters.

I walked through a dark hall to find the two men, to see if they had finished their business. I saw them in another dark blue room, getting ready to have sex. I walked out, making some deadpan "Michael Bluth" remark. The dildo, by the way, was glow-in-the-dark. As I headed back I thought momentarily, Why would two men need to use a dildo for sex?

I arrived back in the kids' room. I realized now that all the members of this family were prostituting themselves -- the children probably at least a little against their will. The men had moved away from the old apartment because they needed to find newer, less trashed-out customers. I was disgusted by it all.

I now stood out on another apartment complex balcony, talking with someone I didn't see. He asked me, "But if Michael Bluth was living with these guys now, where is his family, and why don't they visit him?"

I (as Michael Bluth) said, "Don't you see? It's dramatically feasible because each member of the family is paralleled by each member of this family."

I stood by myself in front of the family's old apartment. A man with huge, frizzy hair walked up the long staircase to me. He smiled and said something like, "Hi! What are you doing right now?" The guy looked strung out.

The guy thought that by standing here I was making myself available for sex. I was about to tell him no. I wanted to get angry and yell. But I was so afraid and disgusted by everything that I didn't even want to acknowledge the existence of any of it.

Some man walked up from the left. He had to go down and then up a flight of steps. He said to the guy, "You have the wrong place. This guy doesn't do the kind of business you're looking for. Come with me and I'll help you out."

The second guy looked at me and smiled genuinely. He was clean-cut, but a little sunburned and hardened. He acted slightly effeminate.

Dream 2

I was in something like a gondola riding down a suspension track into a tall, sparkling city at night. I was like an invisible spectator. A woman, maybe twenty-five years old, sat next to a younger woman, maybe a girl between seventeen and nineteen years old. The older woman was trying to hit on the younger woman.

The women had seen a lesbian who was kind of on the ugly side. The older woman asked the girl questions about the ugly woman to make the girl say she thought the older woman was pretty, even sexually attractive. When the girl finally said something like that, the woman said, "Well, I think you're even prettier and more attractive than that."

The girl knew where this was heading now. But she was going along with it. Part of her felt like she shouldn't. But mostly she was rather malleable. The girl's appearance was now like a doll, a two-or-three-foot-tall, Victorian-style, porcelain doll with huge, blue eyes. I was kind of jaded and disappointed by the whole scene. I had hoped I would be able to be with the girl.

I was a worker in a cafe in the enormous town. It was a dim, elegant place made of wood, like a bar. We may also have sold ice cream.

My coworkers were talking about the new manager. She was apparently a tall woman, athletic, and incredibly beautiful. She was a lesbian, possibly the woman on the gondola. The coworkers, all guys, were all genuinely talking about what a genuinely good manager the woman was. I was flustered. I didn't want to hear that a woman, especially a lesbian who took a girl I was attracted to, was such a good person and manager.

I tried to make some qualifications to the guys' statements as I swept the floor and wiped off the bar with a wet dishcloth. But the guys kept refuting me and saying, "No. She's really good. She's made a million improvements on XXXXX already."

Now as I was sweeping under a table by some mirror walls, the new manager walked in. She said something really nice to all of us, also implying good-naturedly that she knew I had expressed my doubts. I kept silent. But, a little against my will, I thought, Actually, I guess she is pretty cool!