(Entered in paper journal at 8:45 AM at the Tea Lounge on Union Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I walked into a cold, sterile room like a bright-fluorescent lit police investigation room as my friend CV, who sat in a hefty, steel chair, interviewed my friend Y, who sat on a tabletop, possibly next to some radio device.
Y was trying to justify her activities to CV. But CV kept interrupting her with insults and frustrated outbursts. I walked up to CV to defend Y. I don't know whether I had "physically" been there before.
Now the place changed into an outside storage area or a columned patio like at the Meem Library at Saint John's College in Santa Fe, New Mexico. I hadn't been able to interact with Y in the previous scene. I hoped I would be able to now.
I yelled at CV, "Leave her alone! Let her talk, at least! Let her at least say all that she has to say!" Y, still sitting on the tabletop, though the tabletop was now a bit farther off, looked over at me. I was elated.
I said, "It's okay for us to listen to each other here if nowhere else. This is a dream. It's only a dreamworld."
As I said this a chair slid before my face, its metal backing blocking my face like prison bars. I held onto the chair back, almost as if from the side now. I looked down a bit. I thought, I wonder if I can fully wake myself into this dream and if that really is Y I'm seeing.
I looked up. Now, inside the now shed-like building, I saw Y as a tall, fat, round woman with short hair and even a goatee and mustache. She was droning on and on to me and yet automatically, as if playing a repeated inner monologue to herself about some female lovers she had and how it was good she'd finally come to understand her sexuality. She looked off into the distance, like an automaton.
Now three women, all butch-looking and tall like "Y," walked out of some nondescript shadow like they had arrived just on time, if not a second or two late, to illustrate "Y's" point.
I thought, I don't like them. Then I thought, No, no. You'd better like them, if you want to re-establish your friendship with Y.
Dream 2
I was in a classroom that didn't have any lights on and got its light from some half-shaded windows, possibly behind me. I'm pretty sure the desks and room kept shifting. I felt very small in my desk. I was surrounded by kids "my age," whatever that was.
Our teacher, someone like my high school US History teacher, walked through the desk aisles. He had just administered an aptitude tests which might put us into secret, advanced programs. He handed out papers I thought would give us our scores. But he told us to write something on them and then pass them back to him. They looked like blank tests to me. I worried, thinking he had messed up our tests and that we'd have to take them again.
He now said he was going to give out our results by calling out our names and giving us a score on a scale of one to one hundred. I cringed, thinking I'd get a ninety-six, knowing that ninety-eight was the minimum score for entry into the advanced programs.
The teacher got through a few names before stopping and letting us know that the science section of the test has been almost completely ANSI questions, which was somewhat unfair, since few of us had been experienced with ANSI. He asked if any of us knew what ANSI stood for. I said something about American Nautical or Navigational... XXXXX. I don't think the teacher heard me.
The teacher now asked if we knew what the special molecular structure of a XXXXX rope was. I "saw in my head," as if the image were projected onto some wall in the classroom, a coil of rope, wet and soiled as if it had gone through a slightly muddy river. I could see that the rope was porous and extremely flexible, though its construction made it look tight-wound and rigid.
Dream 3
I sat on a couch watching TV beside some pretty girl who sat beside my friend R. The pretty girl asked me some question. I tried to answer, but R interrupted me, bragging about how he was doing so much more in his life than I was.
I tried to tell R to stop it. R was now in a sleeping bag, laying across the couch. The girl was gone, apparently. Even as I began speaking to R, he interrupted me, whining out in a slimy way, "So you don't like what I do, huh? Well, I can do whatever I want."
R's feet, which were behind me, slowly slipped up to my back, like they themselves were the couch cushions. R rolled me right off the couch and against a coffee table. He laughed like a worm, "Heh! Heh! Pretty embarrassed now!"
I flipped around and grabbed him, yelling all kinds of things I can't remember now but which were so vivid that I felt upon waking like I could physically hear them. As I yelled I began punching and punching R, who laughed at first, then was slightly surprised, and finally ceased to be a real person. I could also sense the pretty girl on the second floor of the house, looking down from a small balcony like a ghost in shadow.
As I continued yelling the scene shifted. I now held some kind of stuffed version of a decapitated R (in overalls) against a wall. I kept punching and punching, hoping I could just murder R with punches.
But now I finally realized that the thing I was punching was just a "doll." I couldn't "remember" if I had already murdered R or if I was still just thinking about it.
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