(Entered in paper journal at 8:55 AM at Starbucks on 110th and Broadway in Morningside Heights.)
Dream 1
Either I or a kid was climbing or trying to climb up a smallish (four- or five-story) building. The building had a smooth face, like it was made, block-like, out of a coppery-grey concrete. I think I may have been the one trying to climb at first, and then it was like the view switched and I was on a far sidewalk, watching the boy trying to climb the building.
I felt like the kid was trying to get up the building to do something destructive to it. I was a guard for the building, so I had to stop him. I was bitter that kids could never stop trying to do mean things to the things I was protecting.
Dream 2
I brought some man into a board room, in which also sat some unidentifiable "good friend" of mine at a long board table. The room itself was wide and long, with wide windows and a blue-grey tint in the free air.
The man I'd brought in sat down at the head of the table while I sat by my friend. The man was tall, black, and very serious. He gave us some information, and then it was like he repeated it. In the midst of this repetition, though, it was like I was with my friend at a play.
We watched some heavy woman on the stage far below. She said some line or gave some monologue and then repeated it. I think it was supposed to be funny. The first time, it was natural. The second time, it was exaggerated.
Now it was suddenly like we were back in the board room, listening to the man finishing his speech. But my friend and I discussed how we liked the first, natural delivery of the woman's line/monologue better.
The man stood up and said, "Fine. You two haven't taken me seriously from the beginning. He didn't even get dressed up for this meeting. If that's the way you treat your bosses, then don't be surprised when you don't get anywhere in life."
I walked after the man down a nice, tall, wide hallway, telling him I was taking him seriously. I was trying, though, also to figure out why my friend and I had started talking abou tthe woman's performance out of nowhere like we had.
The man opened the door to a stairwell. I grabbed the door as he went in. I was about to tell him that I had at least dressed up (in my NYC Americorps "dress outfit" -- khakis and a red-and-white striped, button-up shirt). But I looked down to see my shirt was now unbuttoned.
I looked up, flabbergasted,, at the man as he walked down the stairs. I asked, "Has my shirt been unbuttoned all this time?"
He said, "Yes. Can't you take this meeting seriously enough even to remember that?"
I closed the door to the stairwell and walked back down the hallway. Now I was wearing a ribbed tank top. I looked at my reflection in a pane of dark glass. I was think, nice-looking, and I was just wearing a tiny, white tank top and green, satin panties. I may also have had breasts. I thought, Do I really look that nice? I had to find a mirror to confirm how I looked.
I was now going down an escalator. Downstairs I rushed through some shop-like area to the wall with bathroom doors. I couldn't decided whether I should go into the male or female bathroom. I was wearing some really short, satin robe with fur-like, white trimming and a leopard pattern.
For some reason I thought this was a unisex-looking robe, so I could (and should) go into the men's bathroom and look at myself in the mirror once everybody was out. But as I was about to push open the door, a tall, black man opened the door. I suddenly got afraid. I didn't want to be caught.
I guess I'd needed to go to the bathroom. I shit out a rock-hard, pine cone-shaped ball of shit. I tried to catch it in the robe, but the robe was too short.
The shop was now a lingerie shop. The ball of shit rolled all the way across the shop to the cash register. I ran and picked it up.
I'm pretty sure that ever since I had gotten into the shop I had been an Asian woman, but that now I definitely was -- even though I still thought I was "I."
I quickly picked up the shit-rock, hoping hopelessly that nobody would notice the shit-rock or me. I rushed back to the men's bathroom and into a toilet stall, where I tossed the shit-rock into the toilet and flushed as quickly as I could.
But as soon as I flushed I fell to my knees. I got sick. It felt and sounded like I was vomiting all over the place. But I couldn't see any vomit.
Dream 3
I was in some small, house-like building with a crew of folks, either my NYC Americorps program or my college improv comedy troupe. Some old man had been teaching us. Now he took us into a room of lunch tables and gave us a test.
We had finished the test. He said we had all failed because none of us had listened. He gave us another test. But as we took it I "saw" that the man had sneaked out and away, along some western-style hillside of grass and barbed wire,wood pole fence.
All my crew mates knew the man had left. They also knew that the teacher was going somewhere to get your guns, so that when we all walked out of the classroom he could shoot us. But we all had guns. One of us took the lead. We had to get out of the schoolhouse now and ambush the teacher before he reached full power.
When we got out of the house we were all ourselves and "in our clothes," but it was also like we were in clothes from the TV show Little House on the Prairie. We all crawled close to the ground and inched toward the fence. Somehow, we knew, the teacher could see us if we stood. If he saw us, he'd attack us. We had to catch him by surprise.
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