(10/29/07) collateral baby; the wrong way again!

(Entered in paper journal at 5:15 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

A woman sat with some men in an otherwise empty theater. She held a gun which changed appearance from metallic silver to a weird, black, futuristic gun. The woman told the men how she had a man in holding. Unless he gave her a gun, which was a piece of evidence proving that she had killed yet another man, she would keep either keep the imprisoned man in holding or kill him.

One of the men reminded the woman, however, that there was a child of the imprisoned man who could somehow prove that the woman had killed a man.

I was in the hospital, walking through the halls as if I were the man who had been imprisoned. I was looking for my child, a little baby. I saw the baby hanging on a door. It was in the room, visible through the glass pane on the door. It had been hung with cords which to me resembled an umbilical cord.

As well as being the imprisoned man, I may also have been a doctor who had taken a special interest in this case. Finding the hung child, I brought it in to a couple of doctors. We figured we could try a special technique which could resuscitate strangulation victims.

I now saw a doctor standing over the baby. The doctor had a big knife in his hands. He cut through all the cords (which were like breathing tubes and other hospital equipment tubes) around the baby's neck. Blood flowed out of them.

Suddenly the baby woke up. It cried, and as it cried it grew into a child maybe ten or eleven years old. The doctor told the baby not to panic, that it was alright. But the baby panicked so much that it rolled out of bed.

The doctor jumped onto the bed and threw his legs over the other side to catch the boy. He then made some weird comment and swung his legs, and the boy, up onto a bed beside the first bed. He then jumped onto the bed.

Both the doctor and the boy were now boys about ten or eleven years old. The bed was huge. It had a wood frame. The boy and the boy-doctor were jumping all over the bed.

Dream #2

I stood at a train station like on the Metro North line of the MTA trains in New York. A small, dark-skinned (Indian?) boy said to me, "I'm happy you came all the way out to Utica to see us."

I was on the train now with a couple friends. The train was going through a deserty area of reddish-tan earth. I thought, I din't know New York had land like this. The sky was bright. The land became much more pale.

The train had been following another train. There were multiple tracks beside one another. Our train got its tracks confused and got lost from the lead train.

It was now like my friends and I were conducting the train. The friend actually conducting, though, hadn't been paying attention to the lead train's movements after we had gotten on the wrong track. Then he stopped paying attention to the tracks altogether. We started moving along on no tracks at all, near some cliff or mound of cakey sand. I told my friend, "Back up! Back up! We need to get back on track!"

We got back on a track, but we were heading somewhere way off from where we'd previously been heading. I told my friend, "If we just go back to where we first lost the train, I can get us back onto the track we're supposed to be on."

We got turned around and were heading back to where we'd gotten lost. We went past one or two large groups of people gathered around a black basalt cliff and overhang. I felt something wasn't right about seeing all these people. But I trusted we were going back to the right place.

We were back in an area that looked like where we'd gotten lost. But now my friend drove the train straight up the side of a hill. At first there were tracks. But at the top the tracks stopped. I yelled at my friend, "You're going the wrong way again!"

(11/30/07) a dirty movie; there for a friend; satanic pariah

(Entered in paper journal at 5:20 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was in a bedroom with a friend. The friend (R?) was making a movie. There were two or three pool tables with white sheets over them. They were "beds." My friend wanted me to lay down on one of them and wrap myself in the sheets. But I looked at the "beds." They were all covered in dead insects and residue.

I yelled at my friend, "You just want me to lay down in all this filth!" My friend said that wasn't what he wanted. I said, "Well, why don't you lay down on the beds."

He said, "Oh, no. I'm not doing that." (I think the story of the film was to be of a guy who lifts himself from this bed as if it were his death bed, although he is still going to die.)

I was now out in a living room. There were a few people milling around, as if getting ready to shoot a scene in a movie. One guy sat in a corner by the window. He was kind of big, wearing winter clothes. He held a flyer for some rock band or big party -- an 8 1/2" by 11" black and white page. I knew that in the scene this man would give another man this flyer. This would set off a weird chain of events.

Suddenly I remembered another movie I had seen or been a part of. It was very similar. I was disappointed that there was so little originality nowadays that almost the exact same plot could be used twice. I muttered, "It's the exact same thing!" A few people were offended. I walked out of the house. I was on a big city street.

Dream #2

I walked through a series of alleyways or quiet streets in a big city. The roads and sidewalks were cobblestone. The buildings were redbrick. I was on the phone (right ear) with my friend R's fiancee L.

L was telling me how she was working to help kids take tests. She had had to take the SAT as a qualification. She passed and had done very well. I was happy for her. I was happy she had called to tell me how she had done. I thought, How could I have gone so long without being there to care for L when good things happen?

Dream #3

I sat with a bunch of people from the volunteer organization New York Cares in a yellow-walled room that was filled with natural light. We sat at a long, wood table. We were at our volunteer event, but were talking about the event or an event as if it had occurred a couple days ago.

I mentioned a girl who was a little too goody-two-shoes for my tastes. I sneeringly mentioned how she had pulled a Bible out of her backpack on a number of occasions. The other people had been laughing as we spoke, having a good time. But when I sneered about the woman's Bible, everybody stopped laughing. They said, "Here at New York Cares, we aren't supposed to care about how other people express their religious beliefs."

I said, "You're right. After all, I've brought the Satanic Bible to work occasionally." Now people were really upset. I knew I would be asked not to come back to New York Cares.

I looked at a card in an envelope. It was like mock-parchment, maybe 3" by 5". It had fancy writing on it. It was from my mom or one of my grandmothers. It was a message about how well I had been doing in my life.