Dream 1
I can't remember the first part of the dream, something about working with a crew of folks but in a more office-like setting, even though I was now out in the snow, trudging all around.
I was now knee-deep in snow, surrounded by twigs and dead shrub gnarls and facing a wall of snow maybe four feet tall. Even though this felt like the middle of the woods I could see over the wall (barely -- my head being at just about four feet because I was sunk so deep in the snow) to a small set of one-story office complexes.
I kind of felt trapped here. I couldn't climb out. I needed someone's help to pull me out. I took either a stick or my finger and wrote something in the snow like, "GET ME OUT OF THIS SNOW COLD HELL." But this actually wasn't in reference to my present position, about which I had resolved to stay calm. It was about the job itself.
Dream 2
I was at a club (?) with some guy and some lesbian. The girl was a tiny bit overweight, but it was like she was thin. Her hair was done in some kind of combed-down, choppy fashion. She was pale white. I said something that really flattered her. Now she was attracted to me. But she wouldn't say so.
Now we were downstairs. The place was like a mix between my mom's house and my mom's longtime boyfriend's house and a dance club. The basement was small and even seemed to have house-like trash around. But there was a blacklight, and the walls were cobalt-blue-gridded neon green. We drank something that looked like antifreeze out of wide, shallow, stemmed liquor glasses like for martinis.
It was now like the events had somewhat reversed -- time had progressed forward and I had the knowledge that this girl was hiding her attraction to me; but I had not yet made any flattering statement.
I wanted the girls' sexual attention. But I didn't want the girl. I also didn't want the girl to panic on discovering I liked her and play the "oops, I'm a lesbian" game on me. So just acted kind of nice to her, joking around a bit. Eventually we both got bored.
Dream 3
My crew chief SM wanted access to my house. I had some computer device he wanted. I lived in a balcony-faced apartment complex.
We had all gotten out of our Americorps crew van on a street much like in Albuquerque to go home. I ran up to my house to get in and lock the door before SM could follow me and get in. I was in. I grabbed the computer device, which looked like a mini-keyboard with a screen, and looked at it intensely.
But now there were police coming up to my door. I thought something like, I should have just let SM come in.
Dream 4
Some kind of boxing tournament for people in Americorps. It was in what looked like a huge, empty cafeteria with sea-green-painted concrete floors and cream-colored concrete walls, very spacious, filled with warm, lazy, afternoon half-light. The matches were held by the back wall, by a high-up but bright window. There was no ring. People would just stand around in a wide circle, five or so rows deep.
I had just finished fighting. I'd had to punch my opponent as if he/she were just a framed oil painting jumping around or as if he/she were jumping around and holding a frame that I had to punch through. If I couldn't punch into the frame I was counted as being hit, and I could even feel a physical hit. I must have won, because I was advancing to the next round.
People put some things into the ring for the next round, namely a chest of drawers. My crew mate SN was now in front of the drawers, possibly looking into a mirror. I was either going to fight her or watch her fight. But I thought as if I were going to watch her fight.
I asked somebody, "Oh, SN is great, isn't she? She always goes full force. I admire her strength."
But now a group of people, young like us, got up and conferred. They mumbled. I could tell my match with SN was being called off.
But it was still not quite like I was ever going to have fought her, anyway. So I continued asking the people around me, "Isn't SN great? Doesn't she go full force into things? Doesn't she fight like a huge person?" But nobody would even answer me.
My old friend GJ came up and began pulling all the stuff out of the ring. I kept asking him, with increasing desperation, why nobody was answering me. He got more and more uncomfortable, until at last he stopped moving the furniture and looked back at me. He whispered something, bugged his eyes out a bit, as if to say, Don't you get it?, and motioned his head toward where the dresser was.
Suddenly I understood why I wasn't going to fight and wasn't even going to be able to watch the fight. It had to do with my own violence.
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