(Entered in paper journal at 8:15 AM at Starbucks at 17th Street and Broadway in Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was out in some rural area, near a road and a series of buildings like gas stations. I had walked up to some place with a chain link fence and noticed that someone was following me. The person, I now remembered, was a thin, tall, black man wearing a tan leather jacket, a button-up shirt, slim jeans, and big sunglasses.
The person tried to get a couple steps ahead of me but ended up running into the fence. I didn't know how to escape from the person.
The person faced away from me. The person was now a woman, taller than the man, slim, with nice legs and a nice bottom. She wore dark jeans and a dark blue sweater. She now walked away from the fence. She told me to come with her, as if we were working on some project together.
We got into the backseat of a big, 1970s-style car. I sat on the driver's side; she, on the passenger's. We now rode along as the woman explained things to me.
The backseat was full of the woman's things -- bags, mostly -- which had to do with our business. One of the things was a black tote bag saying with the word "VOLUNTEER" or "DONATE" on it. It looked like it was made on behalf of some public broadcasting station.
It was night. We were driving through a small town, through a tight road lined with what looked like beige, cinder block buildings. There might have been soldiers or police in the streets. The woman was explaining how we would cheat our way past a barricade ahead by pretending we were executives for some fictitious public broadcasting station.
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