(Entered in paper journal at 6 PM at home in Harlem.)
Dream 1
I stood along a greenbelt or some park-like area that ran beside a street. Planes filled the sky and began crashing down. I had to dodge one.
Now I was in the backseat of a car. In the driver's seat was Stephen King. There were two or three other people in the car. Everybody except I spoke about this new disaster with the hijacked airplanes.
Suddenly I remembered I had dreamed this and written it in my dream book. I felt frightened of the coincidence and guilty that I had done nothing, with this foresight, to stop the disaster. But I also thought I might be able to do something now that I recognized everything.
I burst out in tears. I tried to tell Stephen King clearly that I had had precognitive knowledge of the disaster. King got upset and told me that psychic phenomena aren't real and are only for novels.
I was ashamed to have been told this by King. But it was also like I hadn't even heard him. I shuffled through my dream book, trying to find the dream in question.
Showing posts with label airplane crash. Show all posts
Showing posts with label airplane crash. Show all posts
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Thursday, March 2, 2017
(8/23/05) panty crash
(Entered in paper journal at 6 PM at the Tea Lounge at Union Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
It was a young, golden day. I was on a plane that may have been a commercial spaceship. I sat by an Asian woman. The ship was having some trouble getting off the ground. I felt a little bit like there was something wrong with the plane and that we'd have to get off. But I started talking with the Asian woman and felt a lot less nervous.
The plane took off, apparently from LaGuardia Airport. It was like a looked through the pilot's windshield. We sped along a runway between structures like interconnected airport parking lots. We went real fast under one bridge and then lifted off and flew over a bridge.
As we flew over the bridge I told the Asian woman, "Now I remember! This is the bridge my crew chief SM always drives by when the planes fly over really low! I need to see if we can see SM from here!" I looked around frantically but was only getting partial views.
We flew over the top of an enormous, almost leafless birch (?) tree that looked like a cypress.
I said, "I guess we're getting too far up now." (I.e. for me to see SM.)
I could feel the drag of the plane as we ascended, pulling my arms and guts. I was getting excited. But now -- we were already really high -- the planed stopped running. We plummeted immediately.
I only had a couple of seconds, as if my will controlled the plane, to pull the plane back up. But I failed. I knew the plane would crash. But I wasn't afraid. I was frustrated at failing, like I would be frustrated in a lucid dream.
The plane hit the ground nose-first, then bounced,
landing on its back.
It was now like the plane had no nice upholstering or decoration -- it was like a hollowed-out, steel-bodied freight plane with seats and a very low roof, on which I lay, stomach down.
In a very minor, peripheral manner, as if a second part of me in a second, analogous, possibly nonexistent world, were doing it, I was rescuing people who were still in the plane -- people who were knocked out or still seat belted in -- before the plane blew up. I could feel the danger of explosion in the "first world," the "main world" of my perception.
But in the "first world," despite the feeling of danger, I was actually scavenging about in all the seats, which reached all the way down to the roof. Brightly colored panties were all piled up around the seats. I was taking all the panties back to the back (?) of the plane, where there were no seats and the plane seems to have been right side up. I was collecting all the panties because, apparently, they were mine. I didn't want the firemen who would come in and stop the blaze after the plane exploded and caught on fire to see all the panties and laugh at me.
Dream 1
It was a young, golden day. I was on a plane that may have been a commercial spaceship. I sat by an Asian woman. The ship was having some trouble getting off the ground. I felt a little bit like there was something wrong with the plane and that we'd have to get off. But I started talking with the Asian woman and felt a lot less nervous.
The plane took off, apparently from LaGuardia Airport. It was like a looked through the pilot's windshield. We sped along a runway between structures like interconnected airport parking lots. We went real fast under one bridge and then lifted off and flew over a bridge.
As we flew over the bridge I told the Asian woman, "Now I remember! This is the bridge my crew chief SM always drives by when the planes fly over really low! I need to see if we can see SM from here!" I looked around frantically but was only getting partial views.
We flew over the top of an enormous, almost leafless birch (?) tree that looked like a cypress.
I said, "I guess we're getting too far up now." (I.e. for me to see SM.)
I could feel the drag of the plane as we ascended, pulling my arms and guts. I was getting excited. But now -- we were already really high -- the planed stopped running. We plummeted immediately.
I only had a couple of seconds, as if my will controlled the plane, to pull the plane back up. But I failed. I knew the plane would crash. But I wasn't afraid. I was frustrated at failing, like I would be frustrated in a lucid dream.
The plane hit the ground nose-first, then bounced,
landing on its back.
It was now like the plane had no nice upholstering or decoration -- it was like a hollowed-out, steel-bodied freight plane with seats and a very low roof, on which I lay, stomach down.
In a very minor, peripheral manner, as if a second part of me in a second, analogous, possibly nonexistent world, were doing it, I was rescuing people who were still in the plane -- people who were knocked out or still seat belted in -- before the plane blew up. I could feel the danger of explosion in the "first world," the "main world" of my perception.
But in the "first world," despite the feeling of danger, I was actually scavenging about in all the seats, which reached all the way down to the roof. Brightly colored panties were all piled up around the seats. I was taking all the panties back to the back (?) of the plane, where there were no seats and the plane seems to have been right side up. I was collecting all the panties because, apparently, they were mine. I didn't want the firemen who would come in and stop the blaze after the plane exploded and caught on fire to see all the panties and laugh at me.
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
(10/12/05) shitting at the breakfast table in the library
(Entered in paper journal at 7:51 AM at Starbucks at 98th Street and Broadway in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I stood on a roof with a group of people like actors in a color movie from the late 1950s about New York City, except that the actors also seem to have changed to how they'd look nowadays. The building stood below a modern building something like a mix between 60 Wall Street and the Woolworth Building (which is what someone in the dream actually called the building), but with rich, red bricks bordered with rusticated, rich, tan blocks. The day was sunny and free, and yet it felt like everything surrounding us was on stage
An old/young lady to my right said, "Now you'll have to watch this part in the movie again, really to understand how we should feel as we give our performance." But I didn't want to see it again, especially this close.
A plane flew down low and then nosed up or down so as to hit the Woolworth building with either its belly or its back. The building had a hole smashed in it, but there was no fire or explosion. Yet it was like the building had been completely destroyed. The plane flipped over, away from the building, and headed nose-down toward our building before dipping steeply down and crashing into the street below. We could hear the explosion and feel the shaking.
The lady said, "Now we have to practice living in our building." We or I went down into a series of very nice apartments and offices. We were supposed to be sorrowful about what happened, but we were also supposed to be unaware, as if nothing happened, as if it were going to happen to us.
At one point I stood by a sort of opaque window that was almost wall-sized and divided by a modernistic iron design. It may have been in a corner. I cried, with and without feeling.
Somehow the events had receded into the background. I was more interested in the building, and I may have gone around exploring it with my brother.
Now I was by myself. I was in a huge room like a library in a mansion. There were thin windows that went almost from floor to ceiling. There were a few desks. The place was ornate but also a bit ruffled and unkempt. I found a toilet just inside this room. It felt like this toilet had invisible walls around it, a whole feeling of being a restroom unto itself.
A man in a beige bathrobe walked into the "library." There was a dining table. The man set a glass of juice on it, then looked at me and chuckled and walked away. I knew that soon the whole family would be coming in for breakfast.
Now the wife came in. She wore a red bathrobe. She, like her husband, looked young and attractive in a late-1980s, upper-class, and fashionable, but not gaudy, sort of way. Now a little son and daughter came in, both in red bathrobes.
I felt silly for having decided to use this toilet and not looking for the other, more private one, which a sensible person might have found. But the little girl, who had silvery-blonde hair, said something to me that made me feel like less of an idiot.
I defecated. I could tell my feces was sticky. I finished. I finished. I flushed the toilet, but I watched as a particularly nasty, nutty piece of shit stuck in some weird, tray-like compartment of the toilet bowl. I tried to flush it away again, hoping the family wouldn't see me acting so weird, but pretty sure they would.
Now I was in another library, by myself. The room was much smaller, maybe twenty feet by ten feet, and it was filled with a clutter of old paperbacks: classics and pulps. I was looking for a particular classical science book. I didn't find it. I found a patch of other interesting science paperbacks, maybe by Sir Isaac Newton.
I walked farther and saw on one of the lower shelves, which were stuffed full of paper backs, some plays by Shakespeare, one of which may have been The Merchant of Venice. The spine of this book had a contemporary and popular look to it, like the No Fear Shakespeare series books, mixed with the style of a children's horror novel.
I sat down with my back to the shelves. I may have picked out a couple books to read.
Dream 1
I stood on a roof with a group of people like actors in a color movie from the late 1950s about New York City, except that the actors also seem to have changed to how they'd look nowadays. The building stood below a modern building something like a mix between 60 Wall Street and the Woolworth Building (which is what someone in the dream actually called the building), but with rich, red bricks bordered with rusticated, rich, tan blocks. The day was sunny and free, and yet it felt like everything surrounding us was on stage
An old/young lady to my right said, "Now you'll have to watch this part in the movie again, really to understand how we should feel as we give our performance." But I didn't want to see it again, especially this close.
A plane flew down low and then nosed up or down so as to hit the Woolworth building with either its belly or its back. The building had a hole smashed in it, but there was no fire or explosion. Yet it was like the building had been completely destroyed. The plane flipped over, away from the building, and headed nose-down toward our building before dipping steeply down and crashing into the street below. We could hear the explosion and feel the shaking.
The lady said, "Now we have to practice living in our building." We or I went down into a series of very nice apartments and offices. We were supposed to be sorrowful about what happened, but we were also supposed to be unaware, as if nothing happened, as if it were going to happen to us.
At one point I stood by a sort of opaque window that was almost wall-sized and divided by a modernistic iron design. It may have been in a corner. I cried, with and without feeling.
Somehow the events had receded into the background. I was more interested in the building, and I may have gone around exploring it with my brother.
Now I was by myself. I was in a huge room like a library in a mansion. There were thin windows that went almost from floor to ceiling. There were a few desks. The place was ornate but also a bit ruffled and unkempt. I found a toilet just inside this room. It felt like this toilet had invisible walls around it, a whole feeling of being a restroom unto itself.
A man in a beige bathrobe walked into the "library." There was a dining table. The man set a glass of juice on it, then looked at me and chuckled and walked away. I knew that soon the whole family would be coming in for breakfast.
Now the wife came in. She wore a red bathrobe. She, like her husband, looked young and attractive in a late-1980s, upper-class, and fashionable, but not gaudy, sort of way. Now a little son and daughter came in, both in red bathrobes.
I felt silly for having decided to use this toilet and not looking for the other, more private one, which a sensible person might have found. But the little girl, who had silvery-blonde hair, said something to me that made me feel like less of an idiot.
I defecated. I could tell my feces was sticky. I finished. I finished. I flushed the toilet, but I watched as a particularly nasty, nutty piece of shit stuck in some weird, tray-like compartment of the toilet bowl. I tried to flush it away again, hoping the family wouldn't see me acting so weird, but pretty sure they would.
Now I was in another library, by myself. The room was much smaller, maybe twenty feet by ten feet, and it was filled with a clutter of old paperbacks: classics and pulps. I was looking for a particular classical science book. I didn't find it. I found a patch of other interesting science paperbacks, maybe by Sir Isaac Newton.
I walked farther and saw on one of the lower shelves, which were stuffed full of paper backs, some plays by Shakespeare, one of which may have been The Merchant of Venice. The spine of this book had a contemporary and popular look to it, like the No Fear Shakespeare series books, mixed with the style of a children's horror novel.
I sat down with my back to the shelves. I may have picked out a couple books to read.
Sunday, February 5, 2017
(10/22/06) ruler of the land of chaos; my father's necklace; dimension detectives
(Entered in paper journal at 9:01 AM at Flying Saucer cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
A scene of insects that were smashed. Smashed, they rolled into balls (three) that emitted some kind of acidic gas into ground or carpet, leaving lumpy mounds.
Soon this view shifted into an abstract landscape like a desert made of abstract cutouts. A narrator said the land had become the land of chaos. The ruler of the land of chaos, a weird being like a cutout version of an Atari character, colored red, walked through the landscape (of blue and purple cutouts?) to a character rising from the mounds made by the insect balls. The two of them shook hands.
For some reason I was disappointed that this was what had come of my clear view of the insects, which themselves had been part of some very meaningful activity. The ruler walked into a drawing room or library -- real, not cutout -- and himself became real. I may have become him. I was happy that I at least saw things as real again. But I was still looking for some conclusion or meaning for the poor insects.
The room was beautiful, of dark and heavy wood, but cluttered full of books. As if trying to calm down my worries, "I"/"The ruler of the land of chaos" ran to each man in the room (maybe three men other than "I"/"him"/"us"). The ruler of the land of chaos would hold up his right hand like a wall and run it at the other man as the man held up the thumb of his right hand. The ruler of the land of chaos would make a plane sound ("buzzz!") and crash the hand -- a wall -- into the thumb (a plane).
This only made me angrier -- not only were we now not talking about the insects, but we were making a wall crash into a plane, which was impossible.
Dream 2
I stood beside my mom and sister in a doorway (like the house I lived in during kindergarten) on a sunny day before my dad and brother. It was my dad's birthday. My brother was proud of the present he had given my dad.
I told my brother hello, but before finishing I was distracted by a beautiful necklace my dad was wearing, and I commented on it, something like, "Did that necklace cost $40 to $50?"
My brother walked past me and into the house, upset. I thought I should go after him, and I would, but first I needed to see my father's beautiful necklace.
My dad unclasped the necklace and spoke about it shyly in an almost feminine way. The necklace had beautiful, yellow beads which shone in the sun. They were thick, almost plasticky, warm, and of many different types of circular or elliptical shapes.
My dad tried sheepishly, femininely, to explain how he had gotten the necklace. To explain, he took a bracelet off his right wrist. It was orange with more teardrop-shaped, thinnish beads.
I thought, almost sickened, This is absurd! I didn't ask to see his bracelet. I asked to see his necklace.
I either went to look for my brother or I could sense him behind me, by a desk. He was crying because I had made him feel bad.
Dream 3
I was in a room (bathroom?) full of TVs. A man in a suit stood with his back to me. I could see a little of his eyes by the reflection of a TV screen that was like a rear-view mirror. The man's eyes had the cold, blue ruthlessness of an executive.
The man directed my attention to one of the TVs. At first the show was hard for me to understand. There were two detectives, men, who were also women, but only when something happened to them. This thing drew magic in from another dimension and put it on them. But then it was more like they were always men but in another realm they were always women. A magic mirror would take them into their female existences by accident.
But then it was more like the male detectives had accidentally discovered this magic mirror and gone inside. The female detectives' world was an anime world. The women's dimension/world was very much like the mechanized world of Caves of Steel by Asimov.
There were two women there who were their counterparts. Each had to help the other's female counterpart and each could not look at his own counterpart, or at least could not let his female counterpart know who he was.
The fates of the female counterparts were somewhat determined by the fates of the detectives. But the female counterparts were in their own danger, which the detectives needed to rescue them from. At the same time, the detectives needed to avoid becoming women, although occasionally they did.
Now it was like the beginning of the first episode of the series. The two detectives were big, fat men. They stood outside some stucco apartment like in California or Florida. One was dressed up in a pale pink sweater and a hot pink skirt. He wore a blonde wig. He looked like Chris Farley. he was going out on a date with a criminal he was trying to catch, a rat-like Latino man.
The second detective asked, "Does he really like girls that look like you? I mean, would he even sit down with you, let alone stay long enough to get caught? He might even just see that you're a man and a detective and kill you on the spot."
The dressed up detective said something like, "Well, let's go back inside. You can help me look so pretty he'll never know the difference."
I knew that what happened next was that the detective went on his date with the criminal and almost succeeded at catching the criminal. But the criminal escaped and jumped through a bathroom mirror into the other dimension. When the detective jumped after the criminal, he found himself in the body of his female counterpart. Eventually the second detective came after him. I don't think he ended up in his female counterpart's body.
It took a while for the counterparts to sort out what happened, and it eventually happened only with the aid of a half-real/half-cartoon character in a black robe and hood (like Star Wars' Emperor, but with no face, just mist). This character had the ability to give the detectives a little more awareness to see themselves in their female counterparts. But he also had the ability to give the detectives physical substance as cartoon bodies in the cartoon world.
When the second detective came into the cartoon world he was almost a specter. Then he was fuzziness that nobody paid attention to or of whom people were very afraid. He was like walking TV static. Then slowly gaining awareness, he was jumbled and melty, and the cartoon people thought he was deformed. When the magic person found the detectives, the second detective had already managed to become somewhat solid, though still a little ugly, and he had been able to find the first detective in the female counterpart and to figure out a way to make the first detecitve aware of himself.
The magic person may have been the one to extract the first detective from his female counterpart. He gave the detectives their complete solidity and awareness in this world. But then he would also give the detectives missions in this world. Sometimes the missions were good, sometimes not good, sometimes just plain silly. The detectives wouldn't do them.
The magic person would react to this refusal by throwing the men into situations where they would be made to see their female counterparts in such a way that the female counterparts almost understood who they were. Whenever the magic person would give the detectives the silly or bad-spirited missions or throw them into awkward situations, the detectives would wonder whether the magic person weren't really a bad spirit instead of a helper.
Eventually the women came through the mirror (this was few episodes in). The detectives, who may now have been attractive, young men, now had to teach the women, in the same way the men had to be taught in the other world, to become aware and to have physical substance. This, another "trick" of the magic person, was a humorous complication.
All this time, the detectives were still working or solving their mysteries. The women may have become part of the team. They could all travel back and forth with ease eventually. The mirror which had started as a bathroom mirror in a divey restaurant, became a mirror like a door into a weird cornered foyer into an empty, sunny house.
As cartoons, the women looked like anime versions of Alice in Wonderland, except with hair just above the shoulders and pink dresses with less of an outward bell shape to the skirt. But they were invisible in the real world once they got their full solidity.
This is similar to the detectives. As they gained their full solidity in the cartoon world they stopped being visible. When they were fat in the physical world they were identical. But when they became young and attractive in the real world they stopped being visible. It wasn't like they were all really invisible. I just couldn't see them anymore. And, although I could remember all the episodes up to this point, I couldn't remember any of the episodes after this point.
Dream 1
A scene of insects that were smashed. Smashed, they rolled into balls (three) that emitted some kind of acidic gas into ground or carpet, leaving lumpy mounds.
Soon this view shifted into an abstract landscape like a desert made of abstract cutouts. A narrator said the land had become the land of chaos. The ruler of the land of chaos, a weird being like a cutout version of an Atari character, colored red, walked through the landscape (of blue and purple cutouts?) to a character rising from the mounds made by the insect balls. The two of them shook hands.
For some reason I was disappointed that this was what had come of my clear view of the insects, which themselves had been part of some very meaningful activity. The ruler walked into a drawing room or library -- real, not cutout -- and himself became real. I may have become him. I was happy that I at least saw things as real again. But I was still looking for some conclusion or meaning for the poor insects.
The room was beautiful, of dark and heavy wood, but cluttered full of books. As if trying to calm down my worries, "I"/"The ruler of the land of chaos" ran to each man in the room (maybe three men other than "I"/"him"/"us"). The ruler of the land of chaos would hold up his right hand like a wall and run it at the other man as the man held up the thumb of his right hand. The ruler of the land of chaos would make a plane sound ("buzzz!") and crash the hand -- a wall -- into the thumb (a plane).
This only made me angrier -- not only were we now not talking about the insects, but we were making a wall crash into a plane, which was impossible.
Dream 2
I stood beside my mom and sister in a doorway (like the house I lived in during kindergarten) on a sunny day before my dad and brother. It was my dad's birthday. My brother was proud of the present he had given my dad.
I told my brother hello, but before finishing I was distracted by a beautiful necklace my dad was wearing, and I commented on it, something like, "Did that necklace cost $40 to $50?"
My brother walked past me and into the house, upset. I thought I should go after him, and I would, but first I needed to see my father's beautiful necklace.
My dad unclasped the necklace and spoke about it shyly in an almost feminine way. The necklace had beautiful, yellow beads which shone in the sun. They were thick, almost plasticky, warm, and of many different types of circular or elliptical shapes.
My dad tried sheepishly, femininely, to explain how he had gotten the necklace. To explain, he took a bracelet off his right wrist. It was orange with more teardrop-shaped, thinnish beads.
I thought, almost sickened, This is absurd! I didn't ask to see his bracelet. I asked to see his necklace.
I either went to look for my brother or I could sense him behind me, by a desk. He was crying because I had made him feel bad.
Dream 3
I was in a room (bathroom?) full of TVs. A man in a suit stood with his back to me. I could see a little of his eyes by the reflection of a TV screen that was like a rear-view mirror. The man's eyes had the cold, blue ruthlessness of an executive.
The man directed my attention to one of the TVs. At first the show was hard for me to understand. There were two detectives, men, who were also women, but only when something happened to them. This thing drew magic in from another dimension and put it on them. But then it was more like they were always men but in another realm they were always women. A magic mirror would take them into their female existences by accident.
But then it was more like the male detectives had accidentally discovered this magic mirror and gone inside. The female detectives' world was an anime world. The women's dimension/world was very much like the mechanized world of Caves of Steel by Asimov.
There were two women there who were their counterparts. Each had to help the other's female counterpart and each could not look at his own counterpart, or at least could not let his female counterpart know who he was.
The fates of the female counterparts were somewhat determined by the fates of the detectives. But the female counterparts were in their own danger, which the detectives needed to rescue them from. At the same time, the detectives needed to avoid becoming women, although occasionally they did.
Now it was like the beginning of the first episode of the series. The two detectives were big, fat men. They stood outside some stucco apartment like in California or Florida. One was dressed up in a pale pink sweater and a hot pink skirt. He wore a blonde wig. He looked like Chris Farley. he was going out on a date with a criminal he was trying to catch, a rat-like Latino man.
The second detective asked, "Does he really like girls that look like you? I mean, would he even sit down with you, let alone stay long enough to get caught? He might even just see that you're a man and a detective and kill you on the spot."
The dressed up detective said something like, "Well, let's go back inside. You can help me look so pretty he'll never know the difference."
I knew that what happened next was that the detective went on his date with the criminal and almost succeeded at catching the criminal. But the criminal escaped and jumped through a bathroom mirror into the other dimension. When the detective jumped after the criminal, he found himself in the body of his female counterpart. Eventually the second detective came after him. I don't think he ended up in his female counterpart's body.
It took a while for the counterparts to sort out what happened, and it eventually happened only with the aid of a half-real/half-cartoon character in a black robe and hood (like Star Wars' Emperor, but with no face, just mist). This character had the ability to give the detectives a little more awareness to see themselves in their female counterparts. But he also had the ability to give the detectives physical substance as cartoon bodies in the cartoon world.
When the second detective came into the cartoon world he was almost a specter. Then he was fuzziness that nobody paid attention to or of whom people were very afraid. He was like walking TV static. Then slowly gaining awareness, he was jumbled and melty, and the cartoon people thought he was deformed. When the magic person found the detectives, the second detective had already managed to become somewhat solid, though still a little ugly, and he had been able to find the first detective in the female counterpart and to figure out a way to make the first detecitve aware of himself.
The magic person may have been the one to extract the first detective from his female counterpart. He gave the detectives their complete solidity and awareness in this world. But then he would also give the detectives missions in this world. Sometimes the missions were good, sometimes not good, sometimes just plain silly. The detectives wouldn't do them.
The magic person would react to this refusal by throwing the men into situations where they would be made to see their female counterparts in such a way that the female counterparts almost understood who they were. Whenever the magic person would give the detectives the silly or bad-spirited missions or throw them into awkward situations, the detectives would wonder whether the magic person weren't really a bad spirit instead of a helper.
Eventually the women came through the mirror (this was few episodes in). The detectives, who may now have been attractive, young men, now had to teach the women, in the same way the men had to be taught in the other world, to become aware and to have physical substance. This, another "trick" of the magic person, was a humorous complication.
All this time, the detectives were still working or solving their mysteries. The women may have become part of the team. They could all travel back and forth with ease eventually. The mirror which had started as a bathroom mirror in a divey restaurant, became a mirror like a door into a weird cornered foyer into an empty, sunny house.
As cartoons, the women looked like anime versions of Alice in Wonderland, except with hair just above the shoulders and pink dresses with less of an outward bell shape to the skirt. But they were invisible in the real world once they got their full solidity.
This is similar to the detectives. As they gained their full solidity in the cartoon world they stopped being visible. When they were fat in the physical world they were identical. But when they became young and attractive in the real world they stopped being visible. It wasn't like they were all really invisible. I just couldn't see them anymore. And, although I could remember all the episodes up to this point, I couldn't remember any of the episodes after this point.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
(8/3/07) what makes people want this job; catching boxes from the sky; hook, line, and walking papers
(Entered in paper journal at 6 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I sat at a desk on an office floor that looked like a living room. The "office" was dim. In an office room, my co-worker DE was on the phone. There may have been a small, fluorescent light on in DE's office.
DE was praising a few people for always staying late. I felt ashamed for not always staying late.
One of the people DE praised was a tall, fat woman with pale blonde hair. Her name may have been Diana. She sat in the office next to DE and was an Administrative Assistant. DE listed a number of things she did, the last of which was, as DE said, to, "Yell a professors I wish I could yell at."
DE said, "In short, she does everything that makes people want to do this job in the first place."
Dream #2
It was a sunny day. I stood out with a group of people at the top of a wide, lawny hill. There were some office-type objects on the lawn. The group had been performing a task, which I may have had a hand in devising. Now we ran to a different part of the hilltop to perform a different task. I may have been angry that we dropped my project, but I tried not to show my anger.
The leader of the group said, "If everybody doesn't like doing this one task, each person can choose his own task." Some of us went back to our original task, which had something to do with catching boxes from the sky. Others did other things.
I was afraid to go back to my original task: I didn't want my boss to think I was a spoiled sport. But then I felt like she was okay with me doing whatever I genuinely wanted to do, so I stood at "my position" to catch boxes from the sky.
But a woman called out to me, "Watch out if you're standing here that you don't let the boxes fall on me." I looked down to the ground. A blonde woman in cream-colored exercise pants and a backless, black leotard was in a stretching position in which her legs stretched out on either side of her at right angles. The woman had her back straight, parallel to the ground, and her face almost flat against the ground. Even though I couldn't see the woman's face, I could tell it was really pretty.
I was about to step away, but I think the woman said, "You don't have to move; just watch out for me."
I suddenly realized I was really turned on by the woman's healthy, sexy body and her stretching position.
Dream #3
I was in a dim bar, getting drunk with my co-worker CJ and some other people. CJ and I had gotten so drunk that we were now wandering the streets.
CJ had a rusty hanger, probably bent out of shape, into something more like a prong, with a sharp end. CJ would put one end of the hanger in his mouth and then swing the rest of the hanger around by wiggling his head. Then he would take the hanger out of his mouth and throw it down the street. I was worried, each time CJ threw the hanger, that the hanger would hit somebody.
The street was lovely, clean, clean-bricked, and softly lit, all under a dark black sky. We walked some more, then found ourselves in a circle in some suburban-looking area. The circle felt like a street for cars, but it was probably paved with tan-colored cobblestones that seemed to me to be more fit for a walking path.
It was now broad daylight. CJ had a straight, metal rod, rusty and thin, like the hanger had been. CJ was still sticking this rod in his mouth and throwing it around. He laughed, like this was a really liberating activity. I still kept worrying that the projectile would stab somebody.
Now CJ wanted me to throw the rod. I decided that this was the wrong place to be.
I saw a crystal-white, almost fairy-like airplane high in the air. It was diving almost straight downward. It had crystalline contrails streaming back behind it. I thought the craft would crash.
I backed away from CJ. I stood in front of a small shop. I looked into the window. The shop looked like a barber shop. It looked very nice, like very rich people were inside, relaxing before a weekend morning haircut. I didn't want the people inside to think I was some bum, so I walked away from the window. I caught a glimpse, looking down to my right, of a quaint, tree-lined street.
I walked back to the circle. I heard CJ had been fired. I may have been in a dim room and standing behind a nice couch.
Dream #1
I sat at a desk on an office floor that looked like a living room. The "office" was dim. In an office room, my co-worker DE was on the phone. There may have been a small, fluorescent light on in DE's office.
DE was praising a few people for always staying late. I felt ashamed for not always staying late.
One of the people DE praised was a tall, fat woman with pale blonde hair. Her name may have been Diana. She sat in the office next to DE and was an Administrative Assistant. DE listed a number of things she did, the last of which was, as DE said, to, "Yell a professors I wish I could yell at."
DE said, "In short, she does everything that makes people want to do this job in the first place."
Dream #2
It was a sunny day. I stood out with a group of people at the top of a wide, lawny hill. There were some office-type objects on the lawn. The group had been performing a task, which I may have had a hand in devising. Now we ran to a different part of the hilltop to perform a different task. I may have been angry that we dropped my project, but I tried not to show my anger.
The leader of the group said, "If everybody doesn't like doing this one task, each person can choose his own task." Some of us went back to our original task, which had something to do with catching boxes from the sky. Others did other things.
I was afraid to go back to my original task: I didn't want my boss to think I was a spoiled sport. But then I felt like she was okay with me doing whatever I genuinely wanted to do, so I stood at "my position" to catch boxes from the sky.
But a woman called out to me, "Watch out if you're standing here that you don't let the boxes fall on me." I looked down to the ground. A blonde woman in cream-colored exercise pants and a backless, black leotard was in a stretching position in which her legs stretched out on either side of her at right angles. The woman had her back straight, parallel to the ground, and her face almost flat against the ground. Even though I couldn't see the woman's face, I could tell it was really pretty.
I was about to step away, but I think the woman said, "You don't have to move; just watch out for me."
I suddenly realized I was really turned on by the woman's healthy, sexy body and her stretching position.
Dream #3
I was in a dim bar, getting drunk with my co-worker CJ and some other people. CJ and I had gotten so drunk that we were now wandering the streets.
CJ had a rusty hanger, probably bent out of shape, into something more like a prong, with a sharp end. CJ would put one end of the hanger in his mouth and then swing the rest of the hanger around by wiggling his head. Then he would take the hanger out of his mouth and throw it down the street. I was worried, each time CJ threw the hanger, that the hanger would hit somebody.
The street was lovely, clean, clean-bricked, and softly lit, all under a dark black sky. We walked some more, then found ourselves in a circle in some suburban-looking area. The circle felt like a street for cars, but it was probably paved with tan-colored cobblestones that seemed to me to be more fit for a walking path.
It was now broad daylight. CJ had a straight, metal rod, rusty and thin, like the hanger had been. CJ was still sticking this rod in his mouth and throwing it around. He laughed, like this was a really liberating activity. I still kept worrying that the projectile would stab somebody.
Now CJ wanted me to throw the rod. I decided that this was the wrong place to be.
I saw a crystal-white, almost fairy-like airplane high in the air. It was diving almost straight downward. It had crystalline contrails streaming back behind it. I thought the craft would crash.
I backed away from CJ. I stood in front of a small shop. I looked into the window. The shop looked like a barber shop. It looked very nice, like very rich people were inside, relaxing before a weekend morning haircut. I didn't want the people inside to think I was some bum, so I walked away from the window. I caught a glimpse, looking down to my right, of a quaint, tree-lined street.
I walked back to the circle. I heard CJ had been fired. I may have been in a dim room and standing behind a nice couch.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
(11/20/07) celebrity assistant; blackbird lucid
(Entered in paper journal at 5:20 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I walked through the lobby of a nice, modern building with an Asian woman. The woman was pretty, but a little overweight. She told me she worked with my company's economist, ML. I thought that was neat. Suddenly I remembered a news article or TV story saying ML had often had the sole audience of the former Fed chairman.
The woman and I stood in the elevator. We were going up. I asked the woman, "Doesn't it ever seem weird to be working with such a famous person? Do people ever treat you weird?"
The elevator opened on the woman's floor. The woman giggled and shook her head. She walked out. I thought I had probably said something kind of dumb to the woman. I had wanted to be friends with her. Now she probably just thought I wanted to advance my career.
Dream #2
I got onto a bus with a line of people. I sat in the second row of the bus. A man who had been in front of me in line sat in the front row. He was black, with lightish skin. He was tall, with a scraggly beard and wide, frizzy hair. He looked mean. The second row felt tight, like the seat back from the first row was pushing into my space.
The bu drove along a river or wide body of water (to our left). Before the river were small warehousing or industrial areas. I sat a jet like an SR-71 Blackbird glide over the water. It moved slowly. It came closer and was now large in my view.
I didn't know the man in front of me. I was pretty sure he didn't like me. But I knocked on the seat-back and said, "Blackbird! Blackbird!"
The man said, "I don't want to see it. I don't want to know what's happening if something like that is flying again."
The Blackbird was pointed at maybe seventy-five degrees, its underside facing us. It may have been only one hundred feet above us. It had a weird, thin, twisted shape. There was a lot more red lining on it than I was familiar with there being.
The Blackbird lifted slowly in the air and then clattered down onto its back in one of the industrial lots. I thought the man meant, when he said he didn't want to know why a Blackbird was flying, that he didn't want to know that a nuclear war was approaching. I thought, seeing the Blackbird lying on its back (the Blackbird having skidded across the lot as if it were just a hollow shell), that if it had a nuclear bomb on board, the crash might have agitated the bomb so that the bomb would go off soon.
I looked away almost flinchingly. But by then we had pretty much passed the jet. I thought, It's strange, isn't it?, that I should see something like that. This is a dream.
At first I couldn't believe it: everything felt so real. But I thought, To see if it is a dream, I should just shout out that it is. I pounded on the seat back and window and yelled, "This is a dream! This is a dream!"
I decided to control my own actions. I would go back to the plane. I stood up. Everything faded out, as if I were waking up or going out of the dream. I tried to keep myself aware. I walked to the back of the bus. I couldn't see where I was going. I couldn't tell whether I was dreaming or just imagining.
I got to the back of the bus. Right behind the bus, I knew, was an SR-71 Blackbird that was being towed along on a truck. I moved through the back of the bus (i.e. through the material of a door that was in the wall of the back of the bus, then kick-pushed off the back of the bus, like a swimmer would kick-push off a wall, to fly/swim to the hatch for the cockpit of the jet.
Dream #1
I walked through the lobby of a nice, modern building with an Asian woman. The woman was pretty, but a little overweight. She told me she worked with my company's economist, ML. I thought that was neat. Suddenly I remembered a news article or TV story saying ML had often had the sole audience of the former Fed chairman.
The woman and I stood in the elevator. We were going up. I asked the woman, "Doesn't it ever seem weird to be working with such a famous person? Do people ever treat you weird?"
The elevator opened on the woman's floor. The woman giggled and shook her head. She walked out. I thought I had probably said something kind of dumb to the woman. I had wanted to be friends with her. Now she probably just thought I wanted to advance my career.
Dream #2
I got onto a bus with a line of people. I sat in the second row of the bus. A man who had been in front of me in line sat in the front row. He was black, with lightish skin. He was tall, with a scraggly beard and wide, frizzy hair. He looked mean. The second row felt tight, like the seat back from the first row was pushing into my space.
The bu drove along a river or wide body of water (to our left). Before the river were small warehousing or industrial areas. I sat a jet like an SR-71 Blackbird glide over the water. It moved slowly. It came closer and was now large in my view.
I didn't know the man in front of me. I was pretty sure he didn't like me. But I knocked on the seat-back and said, "Blackbird! Blackbird!"
The man said, "I don't want to see it. I don't want to know what's happening if something like that is flying again."
The Blackbird was pointed at maybe seventy-five degrees, its underside facing us. It may have been only one hundred feet above us. It had a weird, thin, twisted shape. There was a lot more red lining on it than I was familiar with there being.
The Blackbird lifted slowly in the air and then clattered down onto its back in one of the industrial lots. I thought the man meant, when he said he didn't want to know why a Blackbird was flying, that he didn't want to know that a nuclear war was approaching. I thought, seeing the Blackbird lying on its back (the Blackbird having skidded across the lot as if it were just a hollow shell), that if it had a nuclear bomb on board, the crash might have agitated the bomb so that the bomb would go off soon.
I looked away almost flinchingly. But by then we had pretty much passed the jet. I thought, It's strange, isn't it?, that I should see something like that. This is a dream.
At first I couldn't believe it: everything felt so real. But I thought, To see if it is a dream, I should just shout out that it is. I pounded on the seat back and window and yelled, "This is a dream! This is a dream!"
I decided to control my own actions. I would go back to the plane. I stood up. Everything faded out, as if I were waking up or going out of the dream. I tried to keep myself aware. I walked to the back of the bus. I couldn't see where I was going. I couldn't tell whether I was dreaming or just imagining.
I got to the back of the bus. Right behind the bus, I knew, was an SR-71 Blackbird that was being towed along on a truck. I moved through the back of the bus (i.e. through the material of a door that was in the wall of the back of the bus, then kick-pushed off the back of the bus, like a swimmer would kick-push off a wall, to fly/swim to the hatch for the cockpit of the jet.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
(7/6/08) initiation report; aircraft and push-car
(Entered in paper journal at 7:01 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I sat in a place like an office and a bedroom combined. I sat before a desk and a computer screen. Someone, possibly a beautiful woman, possibly my mom, sat on a bed behind me. I was looking at a screen of stock tickers and prices, which was also a list of emails directed to me.
One email was from my old boss and mentor EB. He wrote to me about the initiation-of-coverage report for some stock, possibly with the ticker IG, as if I had either had a lot to do with it or had been in charge of it. I could tell he was laughing in amusement at how quickly I did things like putting together initiation reports. I turned back to the woman and laughed myself.
I now sat to the right side of the computer. The room was yellowy. My co-worker from the Sales department, PS, might have come into the room.
Dream #2
It might have been a grey day. I stood out in some place like an airstrip. A woman stood to my right. I saw a large aircraft pull forward and lift up. The aircraft was large, shaped heavily, almost like a stubby crayon or a battery. It was dull gold and white. It may also have had something of a look of a space shuttle about it. I saw that a woman was piloting it. She may have been the only passenger.
The craft lifted up, got maybe fifty or sixty feet in the air, then crashed down. It "exploded," but it was really like it just clattered open, like it was a plastic toy that broke. I knew that whoever had sent this aircraft out would send another aircraft out right away.
Whatever was being transported in the craft was very important, but I thought perhaps it should be carried by ground, or even by a better aircraft, instead of by the type of aircraft they were using.
I might have thought of the awful state of the airline industry, having to use such old vehicles. But I also thought back to the "old days," which seemed to me to have been a lot more efficient.
I now stood out at the base of a slate-grey mountain. The ground before me was level and gravely, like it had been cleared or blasted. Two sets of railroad tracks ran before me, from around a curve a ways to my left, then straight to my right and around a curve in the distance.
A small train traveled from my right to my left. Then from my left to my right came a boy running between the second set of railroad tracks, with a white goat running behind him. The boy and his goat were transporting something. Behind them was moving either a push-car or another small train.
At some point I may also have become the boy or been able to see through the boy's eyes.
Dream #1
I sat in a place like an office and a bedroom combined. I sat before a desk and a computer screen. Someone, possibly a beautiful woman, possibly my mom, sat on a bed behind me. I was looking at a screen of stock tickers and prices, which was also a list of emails directed to me.
One email was from my old boss and mentor EB. He wrote to me about the initiation-of-coverage report for some stock, possibly with the ticker IG, as if I had either had a lot to do with it or had been in charge of it. I could tell he was laughing in amusement at how quickly I did things like putting together initiation reports. I turned back to the woman and laughed myself.
I now sat to the right side of the computer. The room was yellowy. My co-worker from the Sales department, PS, might have come into the room.
Dream #2
It might have been a grey day. I stood out in some place like an airstrip. A woman stood to my right. I saw a large aircraft pull forward and lift up. The aircraft was large, shaped heavily, almost like a stubby crayon or a battery. It was dull gold and white. It may also have had something of a look of a space shuttle about it. I saw that a woman was piloting it. She may have been the only passenger.
The craft lifted up, got maybe fifty or sixty feet in the air, then crashed down. It "exploded," but it was really like it just clattered open, like it was a plastic toy that broke. I knew that whoever had sent this aircraft out would send another aircraft out right away.
Whatever was being transported in the craft was very important, but I thought perhaps it should be carried by ground, or even by a better aircraft, instead of by the type of aircraft they were using.
I might have thought of the awful state of the airline industry, having to use such old vehicles. But I also thought back to the "old days," which seemed to me to have been a lot more efficient.
I now stood out at the base of a slate-grey mountain. The ground before me was level and gravely, like it had been cleared or blasted. Two sets of railroad tracks ran before me, from around a curve a ways to my left, then straight to my right and around a curve in the distance.
A small train traveled from my right to my left. Then from my left to my right came a boy running between the second set of railroad tracks, with a white goat running behind him. The boy and his goat were transporting something. Behind them was moving either a push-car or another small train.
At some point I may also have become the boy or been able to see through the boy's eyes.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
(2/18/09) airplane flight and murder; walking on hands
(Entered in paper journal at 8:58 AM at Starbucks on Astor Place in Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I needed to get somewhere. I was pretty sure I'd be late. I would have to take an airplane. But I'd heard the airplanes weren't flying, for some reason. But now I was on a private jet. It lifted off very quickly. It was as if it lifted off by tilting its left side upward. We were high in the air. I found this hard to believe -- I really thought that all airplanes weren't allowed to take off.
I sat on the left side of the jet. I sat near the back. There were just a few other passengers on the plane. The interior of the passenger area was grey and dim.
I looked out the window. A gigantic passenger jet was right beside us. We steered under the jet as if it were just a normal part of flight. Another huge passenger jet flew past us, either going straight up or straight down. It was an American Airlines jet. Its underside was gleaming, polished, mirror-like steel. I knew this plane was going to crash.
We were over an ocean. It was now like we were flying low. I could see down to the water. A plane like a gigantic military prop plane floated with its top part out of the water. The only thing I could see were the wings each of which had three propellers. It looked like a blue whale being pulled out of the water.
We had now landed. I owned this jet, apparently. I walked to the front and down a couple of steps. I turned to face some man, with whom I was here to do business. To my left, at the top of the steps, was the pilot, who looked a little rough, grizzled, overweight. I discussed the details of the day with the man and then asked the pilot if he could find a suitable time for us to leave.
I now stood in front of a shack. It was a sunny and hot day. The shack looked yellowish and in decent shape, though the porch may have been greyish and dumpy. The front yard was all barren. I stood in a muddy circle with a shallow layer of something like water or sugar-crystal-like slush.
My brother stood in front of me. A couple messy-looking white men stood off behind my brother and to my left, probably by a pickup truck. My brother was crying to me. He had a very sad face, like he was apologizing, as if he thought he'd disappointed me all his life.
My brother said (holding up his right hand, back-side to me, sideways, in front of his forehead, with his last three fingers extended and his forefinger and thumb bending and touching to form a circle), "There were two of them. But I only killed one. One, two three."
I knew I'd have to turn my brother in for murder. But I also wanted to show him that I loved him despite what I had to do.
Dream #2
I was in a dim kitchen, facing a refrigerator. There were a couple small children aimlessly, quietly walking around. A woman stood to my right. She may have been "my mom." She opened the refrigerator door. The fridge was full of garbagey stuff wrapped in brown, plastic shopping bags.
The woman apologized to me for something. I looked at her. She was tall, tan, blonde, with long hair and pale blue eyes. She looked like a girl who used to be skinny but was now quickly getting fat. Her arms looked skinny, but from her rib cage to her hips she looked distorted -- not fat, but widened, as if her body were widening out before it rounded out. She wore a top that wrapped around her breasts and then behind her neck. It might have been attractive when she was skinny, but not now.
I sat out on a field on a hillside. Behind me, upslope, was a large vegetable garden. All around the garden the hillside had pale green grass, golden with light dew and pale morning sunlight. Beside me sat a couple of women. One of them may have been my mom as a younger woman -- less overweight, with short, dark hair. She reminded me of my somehow of my mother's mother. The other woman was very beautiful. One of the women was talking about how she was becoming a lesbian and how she was becoming attracted to the other woman.
I was now "walking" around by propping myself up with my hands while I was in a asitting position with my legs straight out.
I was acting like I was "walking normally," which was supposed to show I was unaffected by what the woman had told me. But I really couldn't walk normally. I "walked" along the bottom of the vegetable path to the right side, then up to the top and over to the top left corner.
There was a chain-link fence around the area with the vegetable patch. The fence was maybe ten feet high. My mother (more like at present) stood there. A few of "my nephews" were playing around her. Some were outside the fence. My mom was letting them in. One of them, maybe my second oldest nephew, showed me or gave me a toy like an action figure.
Something about the situation was very upsetting to me -- perhaps everything seemed dirty and sticky, and I didn't like it. I started climbing the fence (which my have had barbed wire at the top), oping I could jump over and escape for good.
Dream #1
I needed to get somewhere. I was pretty sure I'd be late. I would have to take an airplane. But I'd heard the airplanes weren't flying, for some reason. But now I was on a private jet. It lifted off very quickly. It was as if it lifted off by tilting its left side upward. We were high in the air. I found this hard to believe -- I really thought that all airplanes weren't allowed to take off.
I sat on the left side of the jet. I sat near the back. There were just a few other passengers on the plane. The interior of the passenger area was grey and dim.
I looked out the window. A gigantic passenger jet was right beside us. We steered under the jet as if it were just a normal part of flight. Another huge passenger jet flew past us, either going straight up or straight down. It was an American Airlines jet. Its underside was gleaming, polished, mirror-like steel. I knew this plane was going to crash.
We were over an ocean. It was now like we were flying low. I could see down to the water. A plane like a gigantic military prop plane floated with its top part out of the water. The only thing I could see were the wings each of which had three propellers. It looked like a blue whale being pulled out of the water.
We had now landed. I owned this jet, apparently. I walked to the front and down a couple of steps. I turned to face some man, with whom I was here to do business. To my left, at the top of the steps, was the pilot, who looked a little rough, grizzled, overweight. I discussed the details of the day with the man and then asked the pilot if he could find a suitable time for us to leave.
I now stood in front of a shack. It was a sunny and hot day. The shack looked yellowish and in decent shape, though the porch may have been greyish and dumpy. The front yard was all barren. I stood in a muddy circle with a shallow layer of something like water or sugar-crystal-like slush.
My brother stood in front of me. A couple messy-looking white men stood off behind my brother and to my left, probably by a pickup truck. My brother was crying to me. He had a very sad face, like he was apologizing, as if he thought he'd disappointed me all his life.
My brother said (holding up his right hand, back-side to me, sideways, in front of his forehead, with his last three fingers extended and his forefinger and thumb bending and touching to form a circle), "There were two of them. But I only killed one. One, two three."
I knew I'd have to turn my brother in for murder. But I also wanted to show him that I loved him despite what I had to do.
Dream #2
I was in a dim kitchen, facing a refrigerator. There were a couple small children aimlessly, quietly walking around. A woman stood to my right. She may have been "my mom." She opened the refrigerator door. The fridge was full of garbagey stuff wrapped in brown, plastic shopping bags.
The woman apologized to me for something. I looked at her. She was tall, tan, blonde, with long hair and pale blue eyes. She looked like a girl who used to be skinny but was now quickly getting fat. Her arms looked skinny, but from her rib cage to her hips she looked distorted -- not fat, but widened, as if her body were widening out before it rounded out. She wore a top that wrapped around her breasts and then behind her neck. It might have been attractive when she was skinny, but not now.
I sat out on a field on a hillside. Behind me, upslope, was a large vegetable garden. All around the garden the hillside had pale green grass, golden with light dew and pale morning sunlight. Beside me sat a couple of women. One of them may have been my mom as a younger woman -- less overweight, with short, dark hair. She reminded me of my somehow of my mother's mother. The other woman was very beautiful. One of the women was talking about how she was becoming a lesbian and how she was becoming attracted to the other woman.
I was now "walking" around by propping myself up with my hands while I was in a asitting position with my legs straight out.
I was acting like I was "walking normally," which was supposed to show I was unaffected by what the woman had told me. But I really couldn't walk normally. I "walked" along the bottom of the vegetable path to the right side, then up to the top and over to the top left corner.
There was a chain-link fence around the area with the vegetable patch. The fence was maybe ten feet high. My mother (more like at present) stood there. A few of "my nephews" were playing around her. Some were outside the fence. My mom was letting them in. One of them, maybe my second oldest nephew, showed me or gave me a toy like an action figure.
Something about the situation was very upsetting to me -- perhaps everything seemed dirty and sticky, and I didn't like it. I started climbing the fence (which my have had barbed wire at the top), oping I could jump over and escape for good.
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