(5/13/09) insects among friends; my space jet isn't good enough

Dream #1

I was in a room like the dining room of the house my family lived in from the time I was eleven to fifteen years old. My family was there, as were other people, possibly my peers from the job I had just gotten laid off from. It was daytime, and natural light came into the room from a sliding-glass door at the back of the room. There were a few pieces of furniture in the room There might have been a nice rug on the floor.

On the wall to my right was my mom's buffet, one of her favorite pieces of furniture. The left cupboard door of the buffet was missing. A large insect like a roach tumbled out of the cupboard. The insect was maybe an inch and a half or two inches long. It landed on its legs on the floor. It was dead, dried out.

A smaller insect, also roach-like, but maybe only half an inch long, devoured the larger insect before our very eyes, until the larger insect was nothing more than a frame, like legs and a few spindly structures outlining where the body used to be.

I was ashamed that I had let my co-workers, whom I thought of as friends, especially my co-worker CT, see that I had allowed such a large insect into my house.

Dream #2

I was with my family, driving a large jet or new space rocket down through tunnels like walkway tunnels between subway platforms. The corridors had concrete floors and white-tiled walls and were lit with greenish-grey-white fluorescent light.

At first the jet we drove in looked (in my mind's eye?) white and like a hybrid of an SR-71, a Concord, and a space shuttle, with a radar disc on top. The vehicle may have had a grid pattern on it, as if it was tiled.

There was a young boy with us, somewhere, as if behind me and to my left, and not quite inside the vehicle. The boy was short, of medium build, bratty looking, a little tan, with longish, golden-brown hair, wearing a cocked backward, blue baseball cap, a longish, navy blue t-shirt, and baggy blue jeans.

The boy was making fun of the vehicle in a bratty way, like the vehicle wasn't good enough. In some way I felt like the boy was right. But I alsy felt like I just needed to ignore the boy. We were doing just fine in this vehicle. At some point the vehicle become more like an SR-71, black and tall.

We stopped in a wide opening, like there area before the turnstiles at subway stations. We may have gotten out of the vehicle, as if we were going to walk through the turnstiles and onto the subway platform.