(Entered in dream journal at 6:30 AM on B-train into work from Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I walked out of my apartment. I was wearing only a Pampers Baby Dry diaper. It was night. I walked along a street that looked like Sixth Street between Second and Third Avenues in Manhattan, except that the buildings were taller. A shaded, incandescent lamp shone against a beige painted wall. I was all alone on the street.
I turned right at a corner. The area was much darker, lit only by the purplish glow of the night and possibly a few sparse streetlights. To my right were wide buildings, possibly like warehouses, with grey-painted brick walls. To my left, across a wide, empty street, was a lawny park.
A young, Asian woman was walking on the sidewalk bordering the park. I was ashamed to have been out so visibly before her wearing only my diaper, and I thought I'd better change before anybody else saw me like this. I may have heard or seen a group of bullying boys in the distance, which may have made me even more afraid.
I had my khaki slacks with me, but I was afraid to draw attention to my diaper by putting my slacks on over them in such clear view. But now I walked into a bank of purplish fog. In the obscurity, I put my slacks on. I felt a lot less worried.
But I felt now like I needed to get home. I thought I was on the right block, or that I could wind my way around to get onto the right block. I turned right onto another street. The fog had cleared up a little for a little while. But now it was even thicker than before, and warm, as if coming from steam, like the steam from a building or something below the street.
I was in some Asian part of town, I could see. I saw red and green, rectangular signs with black characters and letters glowing through the fog. The street felt very narrow, the buildings close, their shadows black and spidery. Somehow this all felt very comfortable an reassuring to me, like I was home.
I saw some person to my right, a white man who looked like a clean-shaven, pudgy version of my old friend R in a suit. He was talking on a pay phone in a tiny little niche in a building. When he saw me, he made a weird, hissing, inward breathing noise through his teeth, as if he were annoyed by my very presence. I was rattled by his vehement disapproval of me, but I walked on.
I was in the midst, now, of many Asian people. It was like everybody was out for some late-night partying in the neighborhood. But nobody was rowdy or rude.
I turned right, into a small, residence-like doorway which I thought was to my house. Inside was a Whole Foods, which actually, I think, looked a lot more like a dinnerware and china kind of shop, or like a Pier 1 store.
The place was very low-ceilinged, with a lot of small, oddly shaped rooms full of shelves with brightly colored, mid-priced-looking dishes. The place felt like a series of hallways before the dining area of a place like Furr's Cafeteria. There were a lot of people, mostly young couples and older couples, mostly white. They all made me feel pretty uncomfortable.
I thought that if I wandered through this place long enough, making the correct turns, that I'd find my home. I turned left (?) into a small, diamond-shaped room in the center of which was a table displaying blue bowls and dishes. There might have been only one other person in the room: a man in his fifties (?), wearing a blazer, jeans, and possibly a maroon shirt.
(At this point I stopped writing to get off the train and go to work. I then began writing again at 10 PM, when I got back on the B-train to head back to Brooklyn after work.)
I squeezed between a table and a square, white-plaster column to get out of this room. I was now in a room that almost looked like a museum exhibit. The room was either square or stoutly octagonal. There was a heavy, wooden table in the center of the room. The atmosphere was dim, though the room was moderately lit with small track lights. The floor and at least one wall were carpeted in tapestries with red, blue, purple, and white designs. There was some kind of display (for a product or a museum piece?) of a couch or a big, wooden piece of furniture of some sort.
I now noticed a very tall woman standing before the display. She struck me as powerfully beautiful, just based on her height. I could only see her from behind. She wore a black, sweater-like blouse and a yellowish or tan skirt that went down to just above her knees. She looked young.
I was thunderstruck. I was almost afraid. She was tall, at least a foot taller than I. She was just the kind of woman I wanted, a woman that would be tall enough to make me feel little, like a baby. I had to approach her. I was afraid to sound foolish, but I had to tell her that I was attracted to her and why I was attracted to her.
But as I approached, another woman approached and stood before a couch. The table was now a wooden divan upholstered with blue and purple fabric. The tall woman and I stood behind the couch. The tall woman turned counter-clockwise to face the other woman. The tall woman's position allowed me to see her face as she faced the short woman.
The short woman was blonde, a couple inches shorter than I, a little stocky, in a well curved way, with big, round, blue eyes. She may have worn a blue dress. She looked young but mature. The tall woman now had crimped, shoulder-length, auburn hair, thin eyes and high, flat cheekbones. Her skin was a light coffee color. She looked very rich or very serious. The short woman looked at the tall woman longingly.
The two women began talking about some matter-of-fact thing, such as buying furniture. They were now on a couch on the right side of the room. I stood before the couch, possibly with a row of church-like, wooden seats to my right.
The tall woman had been standing on the couch. The short woman sat on the couch with her knees drawn up to her chin. The tall woman knelt down to embrace the short woman. The two women curled up with each other. The tall woman kissed the short woman lovingly.
I stood and watched. At first I thought I should feel ashamed to look on like this. But then I thought that it wasn't a big deal. After all, the woman had seen me in the room. They knew I was there, alone with them. So if they kissed so obviously in front of me, they must have wanted me to see. I watched. It was very nice. But it made me feel sad, like I wished I could be a woman like the short woman.
I rubbed the right side of my face, the hairs of my sideburns, absently, like a baby might hold a blanket to his face while he sucks his thumb.
The women stopped kissing. I worried that they'd snap out of their attention to each other and get mad at me for something. So I acted like I hadn't been paying attention.
I looked around and wandered into a room through a wide entrance before me. The room was dark, like the old stalactite tunnel at the Denver Museum of Natural History. There was also some fragmented feeling to it, as if a curtain of clear strings dotted occasionally with blue, pink, and purple beads flowed down before me.
Something about this was very uncomfortable to me, so I exited back into the room were the women were. I again acted like I didn't want to bother or intrude upon the women's time together.
I quickly and shyly darted through another entrance. I may have crossed a short, dark corridor or room. I was now in a short-ceilinged, wide room. The room appeared to have been done in the medieval style. There was probably a big, long, oval dining table in the center of the room. At the back of the room, to my right, was a wide, bench-like seat set into a window sill. The walls may have been of wood. The floor was carpeted in another medieval style tapestry, with an image, very basic and "pixellated" looking, of a unicorn on the back right corner.
I walked along the right wall to the back of the room, then to the left wall and down toward the front of the room. I could hear the women talking in the other room. They may have been mentioning a movie they had watched. But they mentioned it in a way that was somehow supposed to call my attention to the fact that they were aware of me. But I didn't know whether they wanted to welcome or insult me.
I walked toward a wide dresser at the front of the room. I imagined something about a conversation with my old friend R. I may possibly have seen the image of a balding businessman in my head.
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