(Entered in paper journal at 8:30 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was in a very grimy and messy, unfinished basement, like the basement of the house my family lived in in my last three years of high school. I was coming out of the basement as if I were coming back from a long trip. I walked through a plastic (?) curtain to get into the stairwell. The stairwell was also grimy, like the basement, but had white walls and white-tiled stairs (with reddish and brownish grime all over the place) and was yellowed with sunlight from a door-window at the top of the stairs.
As I walked up the stairs I said, as if speaking to a camera, "I know I'm being watched, so I'd better behave." I may have turned around to see a small surveillance camera on the wall over the doorway at the foot of the stairwell. I might have been or thought of myself as a pretty girl with dark, tan skin and long, black hair.
I was now somewhere upstairs with my mom. She had gotten me a camera, since I had expressed my frustration over not having been able to take photos of things recently. But, she told me, the camera had only a XXXXX memory, so I could only take (five? ten?) photos at a time. But the medium was also film, not digital memory. So I knew I'd have to get the photos developed. The photos were also only in black and white, although they apparently had the most desirable resolution quality imaginable.
I saw a few photos that had been taken, as if I were holding onto them crookedly, in a disordered pile, as if I couldn't put them in order at all in my hands. The photos looked like crime scene or car crash (or punk rock) photos: very jangled, with people lying or standing in awkward, wild poses, with their mouths wide open, and with objects scattered all over, maybe broken.
I then saw a photo of John Lennon and his family, possibly standing in Central Park. There were a lot of people in the photo. The photo stood before all my vision, as if I were seeing it on a movie or television screen. At first I could only see a small fragment of it, like pant legs, then a section of face. But eventually the whole photo became clear to me.
Julian Lennon, as a boy, caught my attention first. He looked exactly like John Lennon. He wore a pea coat that went down to his knees. He stood just about in the center of the photo, a little to the left. Just to the left of him and behind stood Yoko Ono. Farther to the left and farther back stood John. He and Julian may have been making the same kind of expression: a complacent, but somehow sad, tucking upward of the right corner of the mouth, with a bright, but blank, almost depressed, look in the eyes.
Farther to the left stood people like my brother and sister. To the right of Julian, beside him, stood one or two of his brothers/sisters by John and Yoko. The children were all the same height, and they looked somewhat the same, thought the brothers/sisters may have looked like children who had more "personality."
Behind Julian stood a tallish, blonde, teenage girl. Whereas everybody so far (except John and Yoko?) had a kind of dressed-up casual, late 1960s look, this girl looked like a fashionable casual girl from the 1980s. She wore a patterned sweater and had short, loosely curled, blonde hair. She was looking to the right, to a woman who looked just like her, except that she was more formally dressed, though still in the 1980s style. This was the girl's mother, who was also (i.e. at the same time as Yoko) John's wife.
To the girl's immediate right were a couple of the girl's brothers/sisters, who were slightly shorter than she, and were dressed more in the 1960s style. I may have been in the photo as well, somewhere far to the right.
Dream #2
I was in an office, which actually looked more like a theater or auditorium, talking with my boss BS about my having gotten fired. The place was bright and grey with window light -- probably high windows on a sunny day. The place was also full of young people, mostly men, who were very active and happy. They all looked like business people, but they were dressed in t-shirts and jeans.
One of my friends caught my attention. He had let his seat move back into its upward position. He then sat on its edge and moved back and forth on it. He said something like, "Now I can feel what our company did to us is really like!" This was supposed to mean he felt that we had gotten screwed. But then he said, "It kind of feels good. I can tell by your look that you think it feels good, too. Don't tell me you're one of those guys who likes it up the ass."
I looked away and I thought, It couldn't be. I thought the swaying back and forth on the seat edge was fun. But could that mean I liked anal sex? I then moved away from my chair, not standing, but crouching. I let the seat cushion spring back up, like a normal seat in an auditorium or movie theater might do. I then started scratching my back against the seat edge. Everybody around me said, "Now that's a great idea!"
The guys were all starting to act rowdy. They were all scratching their backs against their seat edges, but they were also standing and joking with each other, having a lot of fun. I had previously felt like they were making fun of me. Now I realized that all their joking had been to make me laugh, and that they were largely looking for my approval.
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