(Entered in paper journal at 5:54 PM at Starbucks on 57th Street and Lexington Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I was beside my friend R, to his right. R said a lot of annoying things to me until at last I got angry at him. I jumped up and bashed him in the head. He fell down. I stomped on his head.
I stomped until a sign appeared before me -- it looked like an email or a technical error screen on a computer. It said that I could not push any further because the system I was pushing had been crushed to death.
I couldn't believe I had killed R. I didn't believe it. I stopped stomping on R's head, hoping that he was only "almost dead" and that my stopping would give him a chance to come back to life.
I thought about how awful jail would be.
Showing posts with label being mean to annoying person. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being mean to annoying person. Show all posts
Saturday, February 18, 2017
(3/18/06) scumbag of the future; living waters in the pit of death
(Entered in paper journal at 11:59 AM at Starbucks on 43rd Street and 3rd Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I wass working (?) in a huge conference hall. Everyone was sitting in chairs in nicely-spaced rows. The room was classical, like in an 18th-century palace. The lighting was dim. A video presentation about some movie soon to be released was showing.
I glanced around, trying to soak in as much of the room's beauty as I could. But then I smelled cigarette smoke. I looked behind me -- behind me the wall was brighter than in front of me, and it seemed cheaper.
Two people were lighting cigarettes as they walked out the door. Then another guy, seeing I was upset about the people who had lit cigarettes while they were still indoors (in waking life I'm allergic to cigarette smoke and have always been really neurotic about -- among other things -- being around cigarettes), lit a cigarette and stood there staring at me.
I walked aggressively toward the man and told him he had to get out. The man's look slowly changed. He went from looking mean and nasty (he was a white guy, tallish, a little pot-bellied, with thick, squared eyeglasses and a beard) to looking completely taken aback, like he hadn't realized what he was doing, and afraid. He backed softly out the hall doors and then out the building doors.
I followed the man outside. It was night. I called after the man, "I didn't mean to sound mean."
I walked into the lobby, which was tall with white walls and reddish-brown tile squares and a statue of a man somewhere. As I walked to the door, anger slowly dawned on me. I felt like the man had kept me from being as angry at him as I actually had needed to be.
I raged and punched the thick, pale, wooden meeting hall doors. I realized that it didn't hurt.
I thought, I should punch the guy like that. I punched the door again. But this time I messed up and hit way too softly. I lost focus. I concentrated on some delicate ironwork lacing the windows.
I walked back into the room, half in and half out. I looked down. There was a book. I picked it up. It was either written or edited by the man I had just yelled at.
I read the back of the book. Apparently the man had discovered previously unknown works by Edgar Allan Poe. The books were like prophecies. Nobody knew whether they were intended to be satirical or serious. Some of the writings were axiomatic, like Nietzsche's Thus Spake Zarathustra. Others were short stories that were "clear visions of the future."
There was one long story that was like a bunch of prophecies veiled as a story, with the main "skeleton" (i.e. outline) of the plot being a "clear vision" of the future. Something would happen like a nuclear bomb hitting in 2005 or 2015 (?) -- some catastrophe that would kill off most of humanity by 2030.
I felt the doom of this prophecy, like a drop in my stomach. I felt bad now for being angry at this man. I thought, He must really be nice if he took time on a book like this. I thought I'd like to talk to him, but that he wouldn't talk to me.
Dream 2
I was in a small cave, almost as small as a heating duct. There was plenty of light. The cave must have changed size, because sometimes it did seem large enough to stand in. But I never moved, I think. I lay like I was crawling.
I was with some kids. We may have been escaping form something or someone. I think two children were already injured or dead. I held them near me.
Now water that was like a person flooded the entire mine. It lifted us all up and pulled some of us into a pit of death.
I believe three kids were pulled into the pit of death. They barely fit going down the hole. The evil water went with them.
The rest of us lay trying to figure out how to escape this place. There was no escape. The place was just where we were. (Not sure what that means.)
I felt bad that I had let three kids get pulled down into the pit of death. I thought, At least I didn't lose one of my protected kids. Then I thought, Well, what does it matter, anyway? I don't even know if they're alive. Then I looked around and realized I had lost one of the protected children. I couldn't even hold onto them!
The water came again. This time, instead of pulling us toward the pit of death, it was going to push us at a wall, maybe smash us into the wall, maybe smash us through it, into another awful place. I felt the rushing and saw the wall, which had at first been some pale, rough stone like limestone but was now a brick wall.
Dream 1
I wass working (?) in a huge conference hall. Everyone was sitting in chairs in nicely-spaced rows. The room was classical, like in an 18th-century palace. The lighting was dim. A video presentation about some movie soon to be released was showing.
I glanced around, trying to soak in as much of the room's beauty as I could. But then I smelled cigarette smoke. I looked behind me -- behind me the wall was brighter than in front of me, and it seemed cheaper.
Two people were lighting cigarettes as they walked out the door. Then another guy, seeing I was upset about the people who had lit cigarettes while they were still indoors (in waking life I'm allergic to cigarette smoke and have always been really neurotic about -- among other things -- being around cigarettes), lit a cigarette and stood there staring at me.
I walked aggressively toward the man and told him he had to get out. The man's look slowly changed. He went from looking mean and nasty (he was a white guy, tallish, a little pot-bellied, with thick, squared eyeglasses and a beard) to looking completely taken aback, like he hadn't realized what he was doing, and afraid. He backed softly out the hall doors and then out the building doors.
I followed the man outside. It was night. I called after the man, "I didn't mean to sound mean."
I walked into the lobby, which was tall with white walls and reddish-brown tile squares and a statue of a man somewhere. As I walked to the door, anger slowly dawned on me. I felt like the man had kept me from being as angry at him as I actually had needed to be.
I raged and punched the thick, pale, wooden meeting hall doors. I realized that it didn't hurt.
I thought, I should punch the guy like that. I punched the door again. But this time I messed up and hit way too softly. I lost focus. I concentrated on some delicate ironwork lacing the windows.
I walked back into the room, half in and half out. I looked down. There was a book. I picked it up. It was either written or edited by the man I had just yelled at.
I read the back of the book. Apparently the man had discovered previously unknown works by Edgar Allan Poe. The books were like prophecies. Nobody knew whether they were intended to be satirical or serious. Some of the writings were axiomatic, like Nietzsche's Thus Spake Zarathustra. Others were short stories that were "clear visions of the future."
There was one long story that was like a bunch of prophecies veiled as a story, with the main "skeleton" (i.e. outline) of the plot being a "clear vision" of the future. Something would happen like a nuclear bomb hitting in 2005 or 2015 (?) -- some catastrophe that would kill off most of humanity by 2030.
I felt the doom of this prophecy, like a drop in my stomach. I felt bad now for being angry at this man. I thought, He must really be nice if he took time on a book like this. I thought I'd like to talk to him, but that he wouldn't talk to me.
Dream 2
I was in a small cave, almost as small as a heating duct. There was plenty of light. The cave must have changed size, because sometimes it did seem large enough to stand in. But I never moved, I think. I lay like I was crawling.
I was with some kids. We may have been escaping form something or someone. I think two children were already injured or dead. I held them near me.
Now water that was like a person flooded the entire mine. It lifted us all up and pulled some of us into a pit of death.
I believe three kids were pulled into the pit of death. They barely fit going down the hole. The evil water went with them.
The rest of us lay trying to figure out how to escape this place. There was no escape. The place was just where we were. (Not sure what that means.)
I felt bad that I had let three kids get pulled down into the pit of death. I thought, At least I didn't lose one of my protected kids. Then I thought, Well, what does it matter, anyway? I don't even know if they're alive. Then I looked around and realized I had lost one of the protected children. I couldn't even hold onto them!
The water came again. This time, instead of pulling us toward the pit of death, it was going to push us at a wall, maybe smash us into the wall, maybe smash us through it, into another awful place. I felt the rushing and saw the wall, which had at first been some pale, rough stone like limestone but was now a brick wall.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
(2/2/08) mean mom in subway passage
(Entered in paper journal at 8:21 AM at Starbucks on 43rd Street and Third Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I walked down into an underground passage like a walkway that might lead to or between subway platforms. A kind of mean, upper-middle-class woman with pale skin and white hair was pushing a kid in a stroller and had a little girl walking beside her.
The woman did something mean to me as we got down into the passageway. The woman ignored me, but I could tell she was really anticipating, even hoping, that I would call her on the mean thing she'd done to me and make a scene. I knew if I got mad I'd just be playing into the woman's hands. But I was too mad to control myself. I turned to the woman and yelled something mean and nasty. But then I also made some weird, obscene comment about the bank Societe General.
The woman continued ignoring me. She turned off to an exit to the right that went back up to street level. But her daughter, who wore a pink coat, ran ahead, up the steps and through the passageway. I stopped and turned, yelling to the woman, "You act like you care so much! Well, you just let your little girl get lost from you!"
I now turned and shouted after the girl, "Ma'am? Your mommy went this way. Come back this way." The little girl ran back toward me. I stood halfway up the steps. The girl ran down to the foot of the steps. Her mother may have been coming back.
I turned back around and headed in the direction the little girl had been heading in before I'd called her back. At some point I reached two stairwells, one on my left, the other more or less infront of me. They both headed back up to ground level.
Dream #1
I walked down into an underground passage like a walkway that might lead to or between subway platforms. A kind of mean, upper-middle-class woman with pale skin and white hair was pushing a kid in a stroller and had a little girl walking beside her.
The woman did something mean to me as we got down into the passageway. The woman ignored me, but I could tell she was really anticipating, even hoping, that I would call her on the mean thing she'd done to me and make a scene. I knew if I got mad I'd just be playing into the woman's hands. But I was too mad to control myself. I turned to the woman and yelled something mean and nasty. But then I also made some weird, obscene comment about the bank Societe General.
The woman continued ignoring me. She turned off to an exit to the right that went back up to street level. But her daughter, who wore a pink coat, ran ahead, up the steps and through the passageway. I stopped and turned, yelling to the woman, "You act like you care so much! Well, you just let your little girl get lost from you!"
I now turned and shouted after the girl, "Ma'am? Your mommy went this way. Come back this way." The little girl ran back toward me. I stood halfway up the steps. The girl ran down to the foot of the steps. Her mother may have been coming back.
I turned back around and headed in the direction the little girl had been heading in before I'd called her back. At some point I reached two stairwells, one on my left, the other more or less infront of me. They both headed back up to ground level.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
(3/17/09) being a jerk to a jerk
Dream #1
I was at a party in a living room that was dim, as if its only light came from some other room, possibly a kitchen. The living room was large and full of people. I may have been kneeling before a couch.
In the distance to my right a man sat on another couch. The man looked like he was in his forties. He was tall and strong with slightly shaggy, grey hair. The man started shouting all kinds of things at me, like he was trying to get me to fight him. I ignored him. I figured he was just a jerk. I may have stood up and walked away.
A little later I was "back at the party." A group of people were all around me, bragging about how they, too, had treated the man like garbage. One person in particular, my co-worker AL, was before me, telling me how she had gone straight up to the man and stomped on his feet.
I thought how unfair this was to the man -- it must really have hurt him. But now I saw that AL wasn't wearing shoes. She was only wearing red and white striped socks.
I was at a party in a living room that was dim, as if its only light came from some other room, possibly a kitchen. The living room was large and full of people. I may have been kneeling before a couch.
In the distance to my right a man sat on another couch. The man looked like he was in his forties. He was tall and strong with slightly shaggy, grey hair. The man started shouting all kinds of things at me, like he was trying to get me to fight him. I ignored him. I figured he was just a jerk. I may have stood up and walked away.
A little later I was "back at the party." A group of people were all around me, bragging about how they, too, had treated the man like garbage. One person in particular, my co-worker AL, was before me, telling me how she had gone straight up to the man and stomped on his feet.
I thought how unfair this was to the man -- it must really have hurt him. But now I saw that AL wasn't wearing shoes. She was only wearing red and white striped socks.
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