Dream #1
I was in a place like a stage version of an old, European city at night. There were a lot of people milling around here and there. There were a couple of buildings with their ligts on inside. In the center of the street was a tall, wooden staircase.
I had watched a rich man (and a rich woman?) do something awful to one of my friends. The rich man and woman were like bosses of a company for which all of us on this street worked.
For a moment I may have been in some large room or large field, virtually alone with the rich man, with a chance to tell him that I didn't like the way he'd treated my friend. But I was too afraid to tell the rich man how I felt. I feared he would hurt me somehow.
I was back in the street. I was climbing up the wooden staircase, which also had people milling about on it, like they were in a line for an amusement park ride. I might have seen or heard the rich man laughing, either on the staircase or in the distance on the street, exulting over the cruel act he had committed. The rich man may have looked like a well-groomed, slightly softened, version of the blind accordion player from Fellini's Amarcord.
I reached the top of the staircase. I now stood in a mezzanine or balcony in a very nice hotel or mansion. The place was well-lit and clean, with white walls and railings. People were crowded all throughout the floor and all the way down the stairs. I worked my way through the crowd, as if I were walking on a railing over all the people, and arrived at the head of the staircase (although, apparently, I had just come from the staircase).
I saw, in one corner or the balcony, the rich woman lying face-down, dead, on the floor, crowded around by a thick huddle of people. The woman was dressed in a beige or tan robe and an ivory-white head-covering, like a Muslim woman might wear.
I stood or knelt or perched on a corner of railing and began laughing. I felt such relief, almost joy, to see the woman dead. It felt like a payback for what the rich man and woman had done to my friend. My laugh was so loud and so obviously, defiantly happy that the packed, milling crowd, which had been mumblingly noisy before, now became completely silent and turned to stare at me.
I could tell that the rich man was somewhere near me in the crowd. I could tell he'd be angry with me. But I now called out, "She's dead, isn't she? But it looks just like a cartoon. I wonder if we flipped her around, if she'd have X's on her eyes!" I began laughing again.
Dream #2
I was at a testing center (which I had as a temporary job for a couple months in between my permanent jobs). I sat on a desk, and my boss, NJ, stood beside me. I had had some troubles with a customer, possibly technical issues, and I was now really upset. But NJ told me to get back to work. I had to stand up and sit back down at another desk.
The person who had been my customer now sat down beside me. He was a black boy, maybe ten years old, with light brown, smooth skin, a very thin frame, and a head of huge, frizzy hair. He wore a white t-shirt that was just a little too large. The boy was now my co-worker, not my customer.
I was a little worried, thinking how the boy had been so difficult before, as a customer, that he'd now be even more difficult as a co-worker. I pulled out something, possibly a black binder, and began shuffling through either white pages or photographs that were in plastic sleeves.
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