(Entered in paper journal at 7:55 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
It was a blue, sunny day. I walked onto a parking lot, heading onto it from either the sidewalk or the street (i.e. after having crossed the street). The parking lot feels like the parking lot of a King Sooper's grocery store my family used to drive by, but never shop at, when I was in junior high school in Denver. The parking lot and the street behind it were empty.
In the distance I could see the side of a large, square, brown-painted block building, like a King Sooper's. But nearer to me was a McDonald's. The McDonald's had a 1950s look, with one golden arch coming out of the roof on each side of the building. But it also had a strange, futuristic look, as if the whole building were also made to look like the chassis of a vehicle, or like the torso (?) of a battle robot. The building looked plastic and was painted a wet-looking white or silver. I could see a drive-thru menu beside the building, as well as an outdoor eating patio in front of the building.
Raucous, cheerful 1950s music began playing on the speakers outside the McDonald's, like the music one might expect to hear playing in the car area of a Sonic restaurant. I think the song sounded like a specific John Lee Hooker song that I can no longer remember. I almost felt possessed. I began bopping up and down and dancing to the music as I walked.
I looked down at my shadow on the asphalt and then caught a glimpse of myself somehow. I was wearing a low quality dress shirt and pants, the shirt a blandish tan-brown, and the pants a shade lighter, almost khaki, but a shade greener. I was fatter. I definitely had a bit of a stomach. I could see from my shadow (?) that my hair was cut, but that it had a tall, wavy, but messy look, like a Ricky Ricardo hairstyle, but on a complete geek. I may also have been wearing a thin, black tie.
I may have tried to stop dancing, thinking that any of the Mexicans (?!) at the McDonald's would see me dancing and think I was just a wannabe Mexican. I may finally have stopped myself from dancing as the McDonald's passed behind me and out of my sight.
I may then have met up with a few people, possibly near a car in this lot, which was still empty. My mother may have been among the people. I may have had a conversation with the people, some kind of critical discussion regarding my actions over the past couple minutes.
Dream #2
I lay in bed with my brother. We were in a dark basement. A sliver of dim light came from above, as from some place around the corner from the top of the stairwell of which we were at the bottom. I was trying to explain stock options, derivatives, to my brother. The two of us may have been children, although we both had our adult minds.
But as I continued explaining derivatives to my brother, he took on the appearance of TT, a female co-worker I had a crush on. I myself may have taken on my adult form. I got into some quasi-detail explaining derivatives, which I only half-understood.
The bed was huge, and the two of us lay under thick blankets. The blanket was like a patchwork quilt, the squares in many places of white and blue patterning, like patterns on China. My brother/TT pulled the blanket off him/herself, apparently bored and/or confused by everything I had been talking about. He/she said that he/she had to get somewhere to take care of something.
I now saw my brother's body. He wore nothing except a black pair of panties. His body was slim, warm brown, with big breasts. I was suddenly very aroused. I asked him, "Would you mind if -- if I --."
I hesitated, partly because I didn't want to embarrass the woman and partly because I didn't feel alright making love to a man. But I continued, too aroused to stop myself. I asked, "Would you mind if I -- had sex with you?"
The woman, now sitting against the headboard of the bed, ready to get up, looked at me as I sat before her, my shoulders still covered by the blankets. She gave me a surprised, politely disinterested look, then said, "Well, sure. That would be fine."
I may have laid down on the woman. But now she was floating away, standing upright, from the foot of the bed, her back to the bed. I floated just behind her. We floated with our feet maybe a foot above the ground. The woman still wore only her panties. We were floating toward the back of the basement, possibly toward the laundry room, nowhere near the stairwell up to the main floor. At this point, the basement reminded me of the basement from a townhouse my family lived in when I was ten years old.
The woman said something like, "We can make love soon. But for now I have to take care of some things."
I thought this made sense. The woman needed to go to work, or something like that. But I still really wanted to make love right now. I felt like if I didn't make love to the woman while I felt this way, I might never be able to make love to the woman.
Dream #3
I was in a department store, like a Kmart, except that the place was maybe the size of six Kmarts put together. I sat in some seating area, possibly like an area of table-booths in a food-court-like area, with my mother. The booth seats/benches were orange. The light around us was a glaring white fluorescent.
Even though my mom sat next to me, I couldn't see her. It was like I was looking down at a newspaper or some knitting, or even just a white, plastic bag I was fondling, while my mother sat to my left, her head just above and out of my line of sight -- like I was as small as a child!
We were possibly about to finish up here and go somewhere else. But then I realized that I hadn't done my laundry, and that my mother hand done my laundry for me. It was now like I sat in an orange plastic seat, like in a row of single seats all fastened atop a single square iron beam, like might be seen in waiting areas for bus stops, government offices, etc.
A little impatient with my mom, both for not having done my laundry -- she had done her own and, possibly, "everybody else's" -- and for thinking it was fine for us to go even though my laundry wasn't done, I stoop up quickly and hurried away.
I knew I had very little time, now, to take care of my laundry, even though I could still possibly get it done. I just had to find the washing machines. I walked counter-clockwise through the store, and then, passing the end of a tall partition at the back of the store, I saw a seemingly unending row of washing machines, the backs of which all rested against this other side of the partition.
Each washing machine was partitioned off from its neighbors by a thin, plastic-sided plyboard that was maybe as tall as the washing machine. I had to find the specific washing machine in which I had left my clothes. I would then take the clothes and put them in the dryer. I hoped the clothes wouldn't have that musty smell of wet clothes left too long in the washing machine.
I found my clothes in a "washing machine." The washing machine was actually more like wall-inset dryer, like at laundromats. I opened the "washing machine" door. The barrel of the "washing machine" went far back, maybe six feet.
I pulled a lot of my clothes out from the front end of the barrel. Everything was lingerie. I suddenly worried. If I had to dry all this stuff, wouldn't everybody see me handling all this lingerie and know it was mine? It was very inconvenient for me to have to worry about all this, especially right now, while I was in such a rush.
I continued pulling all my clothes out of the barrel. Then I noticed I couldn't reach the stuff in the back of the barrel. It was too far back for me to reach by standing here and reaching in, my body in the barrel from the waist up. I saw that some of the clothes were stuck to the sides and top of the barrel, like wet clothes would be, although I'm pretty sure all the clothes were dry.
I thought perhaps I could crawl into the barrel to get the clothes that were stuck in the back. But I had a feeling the barrel wasn't set solidly enough to carry a human body, and that if I got in, I'd snap the barrel off its fixture, crashing to the ground, or maybe down through a deep pit.
I then thought I could manually turn and shake the barrel, working the clothes off the sides, then tumbling them along, until they finally worked their way toward me, like clothes naturally do in a dryer. I started doing this, but some kind of cluttering, clattering feeling stopped me. I may also have stopped wondering what people would think of me if they saw me standing in front of a "washing machine" with a bunch of lingerie tumbling toward its front.
I now sat that at the top of the barrel there hung a couple hangers on which hung hangers with bras on them. I was somehow annoyed with my mother, as if I thought she could at least have had the consideration to take my bras off their racks once they had finished washing. Now I had to take each one off its rack in order to put it into the dryer. This would take me even more time.
But I went to work on the task. I pulled a couple bras off their individual hangers, gently sliding the straps off the of each square-edged plastic bar. Then, moving to another top-hung hanger I unthinkingly pulled each bra straight down from its individual plastic hanger, hearing some kind of snap each time. I caught myself doing this and, surprised, became aware of what I'd been doing.
I saw that the straps of these bras were a clear, thin, flexible plastic and were removable from the bras themselves. I knew that snapping the bras straight down, clipping these straps off, would do no harm, since the straps were removable. I thought this would save me a lot of time, though I couldn't quite see how the few seconds I'd saved by not having to be so careful with the bra straps could get me back on schedule. Again, I felt rushed and frustrated.
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