Dream #1
I was sitting at a table like a picnic table of heavy wood in front of a building like a concession stand that was made all of heavy, old, dark wood -- like it was part of some Old West theme park. It was daytime, but it also felt like we may have been inside some larger building. A few friends of mine stood in front of the stand. They were all lounging around.
I started talking out loud (possibly having been asked?) about a dream or an imagination or some piece of creative writing. I was giving a broad overview of how some key events in the thing I was talking about matched up with some violent event like a murder or mass murder. My friends suddenly looked a little worried, though they all seemed to be trying to put on a show of still being relaxed and lounging around. Some seemed to want to ignore me.
One man, however, sat down to my left. I may have just continued talking, as if I were delusional or not in control of myself. The man sat listening to me, as if we were carrying on a conversation.The man looked Hispanic, with black clothes on, baggy, a wool cap, and stubble almost grown to a beard.
Dream #2
It was a grey day. I stood with a group of people, about my age or a little younger, before a ditch or a dry creek in a landscape with black (cindery?) soil and full clumps of tan-yellow (leafless?) shrubs. Most of the people I was with were women. We were all led by two or three older women who were dressed in a 1930s businesswoman style (or a style like that of the bordello keeper in Federico Fellini's Roma). At first only one of the leading women was visible.
The group of us were climbing down the slope, which, despite the apparent dryness of our surroundings, was very muddy. The one lead woman who was visible was talking to the other lead woman about how one of the girls in our group was afraid to come down the slope. They both agreed to let the woman alone, that it was regrettable that she was afraid, whether it be of the steepness or of the muddiness of the slope, but that there wasn't time to try and convince the woman to join the rest of the group.
Where we had gone down into the ditch, the slope was maybe ten feet tall. It sloped roundly down to a very narrow bed. We turned left and walked forward. The bed widened out. The slopes may also have become more like the walls of a box canyon. The bed was now maybe twenty feet wide.
To our left, possibly where another river or box canyon jointed into the one we were walking in, there stood a building like a mix between a Native American ruin and a Spanish mission. It seemed to be made of tan-brown stones or adobe bricks. The building belled upwards in two tiers, with two arches on the bottom tier, possibly separated by a square section of building, with another small arch on top.
We were all here to do some kind of work on this building. But one of the group, my co-worker CT, didn't want to do the work. In fact, she now appeared to be gone.
I stood near a woman who was tall, blonde, pretty, and full-bodied (on the verge of being overweight). I was flirting with the woman. When CT was around, I'd flirt with her, but when she wasn't around, I'd flirt with the blonde woman. I was known for always having to flirt with one of the girls.
The blonde girl and I were now driving deeper and deeper underground in a tunnel like the Eisenhower tunnel in Colorado. The woman was driving.
The woman explained to me that CT couldn't do the work on the building because her beliefs assigned a specific meaning to the building as it currently was. She couldn't contribute to changing the building and altering that meaning.
I thought, That makes sense. I had thought that CT had simply been afraid of going into the dark building, which looked a little scary from the outside, or that she hadn't wanted to get dirty by doing the work. I now wanted to be back in the box canyon with everybody, so I could possibly find CT and let her know I supported her.
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