Dream #1
I was in a hallway like in a run-down apartment. An Asian woman was with me. The hallway probably had brown-painted wood walls and uncared for wood floors that were probably caked with dust.
The Asian woman was about six inches shorter than I. She had dark skin, long, silky, black hair, round, black eyes, and a small, healthy, roundish body. She wore a silvery outfit, possibly a tank-top and shorts made of spandex.
I was taking the Asian woman somewhere, possibly from one of the rooms of this apartment, where a party had been held, to another room. For some reason I felt I needed to pass into my room first.
It was night. The hallway was lit by softish, incandescent light. At first I could see into my room, like the door was wide open, from slightly down the hallway. My room was lit by a slightly brighter incandescent light. The walls may have been a sea green color, with the paint possibly chipping. My room was even more unkempt than the hallway.
As the woman and I walked toward the room, I noticed I had a large pornographic magazine in my right hand (or alternately in my right, then left, hand?). The magazine was maybe as large as, and of the same paper quality as, an old Life or Vogue magazine.
I had been waving my hands to gesture while I had been talking to the woman. Now I realized that this whole time the woman must have seen that I had this huge porn magazine in my possession. I tried to be more discreet with my gestures, hoping to keep the magazine hidden as I walked.
When we reached the door to my room, it was closed. I opened it. We were here so I could show or give the girl something. My room was run-down and a mess. I even had a pile of stuff on the bed, possibly even an entire set of shelves.
We walked in a shallow arc through my room. As we walked pat the bed I saw (possibly on the set of shelves) a stack of for or five large magazines titled SHE-MALE (which is, or was, a real magazine), all in clear plastic envelopes and tiered down so that the title showed for each magazine. I hoped that the woman wouldn't notice the magazines.
I didn't know how the magazines had gotten here. I had always been interested in the magazine, I had thought. But I had actually never bought one. I knew one of my friends, maybe my old friend R, had snuck into my room and laid out these magazines, which he'd bought, so that they'd be in plain sight, just to embarrass me in a situation like this.
The woman saw the magazines and rolled her eyes, as if annoyed that I liked that sort of thing. Our talk kind of fell flat. The woman must have gotten whatever she'd needed. She walked back out into the hallway.
In a little section of the hallway, something like an inset large enough to fit a little cabinet or phone table, the woman now sat or stood with a man. The man was Asian, short, with coppery skin that was lighter than the woman's darker brown skin. The man had thin eyes, a square, solid body, thin lips, and short, gelled, spiky hair. He wore a baby blue t-shirt and khaki shorts.
The man and woman sat or stood amid a bunch of clutter, broken shelves, etc. They were giggling quietly to themselves about me. It was just loud enough that I thought they intended me to hear their ridicule. They were laughing about my having the SHE-MALE magazines in my possession.
I was in my room. The door to my room was now closed. I'm not sure whether I had closed it. Daylight may now have been streaming in through windows over which raggy, tattered, patchwork sheets had been stretched.
I thought, Why should I be ashamed of having the SHE-MALE magazines? I thought to myself, with anticipation, how each issue also included a piece of cheap lingerie with it. I looked back to the magazines. The plastic wrappings were now much bulkier. I thought that the wrappers must have been bulky because the lingerie was stuffed into them underneath the magazines.
But I unwrapped one of the magazines to find that underneath it was, instead of lingerie, a strange, thin, plastic version of a male superhero's outfit. It may have been a Superman outfit. I unwrapped another magazine and found another superhero outfit -- one that I couldn't figure out at all.
I was a little disappointed. I had been hoping to find some lingerie that I could wear. I thought, Well, there are female superheroes as well. Perhaps I'll find one of their costumes.
I unwrapped a costume which at first looked like the Wonder Woman costume. But now it had pant legs on it. Seeing pant legs on the Wonder Woman costume made me less interested in it. I tossed the costume on the stack of other costumes.
I may have opened another costume before thinking, Wait! The Wonder Woman costume was a female costume, after all. I pulled it back out. But the costume now looked like a female version of the Captain America costume. I wasn't interested in it at all.
But now I unwrapped an article that was like a woman's black, one-piece bathing suit. I thought I should at least try this on.
I was now (different dream?) flying over a big city at night. The night was very dark, with little amber specks of light set into all the shadowy skyscrapers below me. I may have been flying by my body alone, and simultaneously flying in some small vehicle. Someone else, a man, was also flying with me, just behind me and to my right or left, probably my left.
There were structures attached to the roofs of, or the top parts of the sides of, certain skyscrapers. These structures were "cylinders," like tireless wheels, made of white plastic, maybe thirty or fifty feet in diameter, lit from behind in amber incandescent light, stuck into the building to look like an "entranceless" tunnel into the building.
These fixtures were docking areas for ourselves or our vehicles. We couldn't land safely without landing via one of these docking areas. We needed to land, however, either because we were running out of the ability to fly or because we were chasing a badguy who himself had landed and had thus required us to land in order to continue chasing him.
I almost docked at one area but somehow missed it, as if the buildings, and not I were moving, and my job, to time my attachment to the moving building, had not been performed accurately. I apologized to the other person. I felt inadequate for failing, and slightly worried that I'd never adequately attach to a docking area, that both I and the other flyer would crash and die because of me.
I found another docking area, which seemed easier to land in because it came out of the top of a building. But I probably didn't make it into this docking area, either. We flew low over the ground now, through an outside area that looked like an indoor employee lounge at a grocery store or fast food restaurant, except that it was, of course, outdoors. Concrete columns, like highway overpass pillars, ran alongside the room.
A young, black man, light-skinned, tall, stringy, but strong, wearing a tan sweatshirt and some kind of baseball cap, with a gaunt face and dull, tiny eyes, sat in a booth across from a white man who may have been in uniform as a policeman or firefighter.
As I flew past the men, the black man laughed at me. He said how crazy I was to think I could fly, and how crazy I was to think I was part of anything special. I was going to ignore the man's negative comments. But I let myself get too angry. I turned back and faced the man (almost as if I sat or crawled on the tabletop before him or stuffed myself on top of him, between him and the table).
The floor around the booth table was now littered with something like crumbs and popcorn. I yelled something at the man about how I thought he was really cool and he was doing really good things, and that I didn't make fun of him, so why did he have to make fun of me for doing something that actually was pretty important?
I then yelled about how I could show him danger, if he really wanted to see it, that I was holding some danger away from him in my fights, but that if he'd rather I didn't act crazy and fight, I could go ahead and let the danger loose on him.
The man looked a little taken aback and slightly ashamed and afraid. The policeman/firefighter may have been on guard, thinking I was acting a little dangerously, and that I should be watched. The two men got up and walked away.
I now realized that the young man was actually a firefighter in training and that he probably was a really good guy. I felt bad for acting so strangely toward such an innocent person.
The men had walked down a hallway that turned right and away at the "back" of this "room." I got the young man's attention again. The young man was now taller and thinner. He now wore a black baseball cap and a maroon sweatshirt.
I gave the young man a gift, something like a big gook. I apologized for having acted weird. The young man may have taken the book. But he didn't pay me much attention beyond that. He had gone back to regarding me as kind of crazy and not really worth any thought.
No comments:
Post a Comment