(Entered in paper journal at 5:40 AM at Laundromat on Empire Boulevard and McKeever Place in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
It was daytime. I stood in a wooded area on a hillside. I could see through the trees and down the hill to a lake and a city. The lake's surface was silvery. A helicopter or airplane flew over the city. I may have run into this wooded area to avoid machine gun fire from a helicopter.
From behind me another person or aircraft began firing at the aircraft in the distance. (If it was a person firing, he/she may instead have been throwing rocks at the helicopter, somehow managing to send them all that distance.) I was sure the aircraft would start falling.
I ran out from the forest while the assailant was still firing at the craft. I wanted the craft to be clear that I was not firing, even though I didn't know who was firing.
Dream #2
I sat on a couch in a room on the upper floor of a large house. The room may have had blue walls. It was night, and a light was on in the room. Another couch to my right was at right angles to the couch I sat on. On that couch sat a couple like Henri Serre and Jeanne Moreau from the film Jules and Jim. The couple told me they were going to have a baby.
A child to my left, who looked like my oldest nephew, lay on the couch. At the announcement, he held his hands to his head and rolled softly left and right in anguish. I tried to comfort him.
Now the scene started over again. I was carrying somebody "up the stairs" to this room. But it was actually like we were walking across a chain-link-suspended board bridge, like in a playground -- except that this bridge was made of very nice, dark wood.
I knelt in front of the couch. The man and woman made their announcement. My nephew lay (perhaps naked) on the couch. I nestled my head in between his neck and shoulder and whispered something to him about how everything would be alright and how his parents still wanted him.
Dream #3
I had gone somewhere with my old boss and mentor EB, possibly to his house and then shopping. EB told me he wanted me to keep dressing well, and that I should try to dress even better. He said his wife GB would want me to do the same thing.
I now sat in some penthouse, looking out over a huge deck on some building-top in the middle of the city. I could see the whole city. It was daytime. I was staying as a guest in this house. Some friends were with me. We watched as some people walked back and forth on the deck, as if the deck were a plaza. I told my friends that I had seen EB's house and that it was huge.
EB and GB now walked past. GB looked tall and slinky. She wore a tight, purple and white dress which somehow accentuated the lower part of her belly too much. EB wore a pale blue, button-up dress shirt. But he also wore a ruffly, black skirt, and he was carrying a purse. He might even have been wearing high heels. At first I couldn't believe my eyes. Then I couldn't figure out why he was wearing what he was wearing.
Showing posts with label boss EB. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boss EB. Show all posts
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Saturday, February 9, 2013
(10/30/07) kidney-shaped table; thursday party; disgruntled clown
(Entered in paper journal at 5:30 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
It was a grey-blue day. I walked along a city street, like out on a waterfront, or, rather, beside a wide street under an overpass, with a group of friends, one of whom was AT, one of the Directors of my department. AT spoke on a cell phone with one of my co-workers, either about his having advertised that he was quitting his job or else about his having advertised unseemly views about the company.
We walked up a staircase to our right and into a brick row-house. AT was concluding her call as she walked into the house. The house had an empty feel to it. It was dim. I sat at a dining table that backed (on my left) against a weirdly shaped wall of oddly set doorways. There were probably blankets all over the floors. The table itself may have had a weird, kidney-like shape.
AT was down the hallway (behind me). A few people filtered into the room. Among them was my co-worker DE, with whom AT had been on the phone.
DE was mad at me. He had been blamed for AT's anger, claiming that I'd told AT that he had been advertising something against the company. I tried to remember what I had said. It had been on the walk outside. I thought it had been harmless. But now I realized it wasn't. I still tried to convince myself I had said something harmless.
Dream #2
I got done at some social event like a cocktail party for a friend. The whole thing seemed to have been held on a stage, the surface of which looked like a model's runway. I stepped down from it, into an area (like an orchestra pit?) full of technical equipment like hospital equipment or sound equipment. The whole room now seemed like a somewhat large sound-stage.
I stood in front of my old boss and mentor EB and his wife GB. EB and GB sat on tall swivel chairs, like for a breakfast bar. Both EB and BG looked really healthy and happy. They asked me if I was coming to their party on Thursday. I hesitated. I saw, though, that GB had picked up on and disapproved of my hesitation. So I caught myself and said, "Ah... Thursday? Yeah, that sounds good."
Dream #3
I walked, possibly with a group of friends/co-workers, on a desert road on the outskirts of the suburbs. It was a warm, gold and blue day. I had reached some point along the walk and realized it was a long way to walk to my destination and that I might not get there on time.
I was now in a car with a group of friends/co-workers. We drove to a restaurant. We finished eating and headed back outside. As we left the restaurant the interior appeared grey, crowded, and steamy. Even the windows seemed clouded up with steam.
Outside, the area was like a filling station. Everybody else had gone back to the car. I told them I would walk. I probably wasn't in a hurry "now that we had made our meeting."
I walked up a street, 39th Street, which might have been the street from which it was a long distance to the meeting. The intersection I turned right on had a very deserty feel. But now I walked down a street which, on my side, the right side, anyway, was just a long, long suburban street.
I walked past a two-story house of maroon-painted brick with a row of tan-painted brick separating the two floors. As I gazed at the building, a man's shout startled me. I saw, up in the distance, a man walking my way. I tried not to act upset or startled.
I now walked in the shade of a row of very short houses. The man approached me. He looked clownish -- fattish, dumpy, with long tufts of bushy hair on either side of his head. He wore baggy, roundish, hobo-style clothes, a bowler hat, and possibly a beer-drinking hat. There were some bright colors on him somewhere.
The man was going on and on, as if he were ranting at someone on a cell phone. He said, "I told them, Hey! You aren't gonna fire me. You aren't gonna do that to me!"
We crossed paths. But then the man turned and followed me from a distance, continuing to act like he was speaking on a cell phone but now also implicating me in his conversation.
Dream #1
It was a grey-blue day. I walked along a city street, like out on a waterfront, or, rather, beside a wide street under an overpass, with a group of friends, one of whom was AT, one of the Directors of my department. AT spoke on a cell phone with one of my co-workers, either about his having advertised that he was quitting his job or else about his having advertised unseemly views about the company.
We walked up a staircase to our right and into a brick row-house. AT was concluding her call as she walked into the house. The house had an empty feel to it. It was dim. I sat at a dining table that backed (on my left) against a weirdly shaped wall of oddly set doorways. There were probably blankets all over the floors. The table itself may have had a weird, kidney-like shape.
AT was down the hallway (behind me). A few people filtered into the room. Among them was my co-worker DE, with whom AT had been on the phone.
DE was mad at me. He had been blamed for AT's anger, claiming that I'd told AT that he had been advertising something against the company. I tried to remember what I had said. It had been on the walk outside. I thought it had been harmless. But now I realized it wasn't. I still tried to convince myself I had said something harmless.
Dream #2
I got done at some social event like a cocktail party for a friend. The whole thing seemed to have been held on a stage, the surface of which looked like a model's runway. I stepped down from it, into an area (like an orchestra pit?) full of technical equipment like hospital equipment or sound equipment. The whole room now seemed like a somewhat large sound-stage.
I stood in front of my old boss and mentor EB and his wife GB. EB and GB sat on tall swivel chairs, like for a breakfast bar. Both EB and BG looked really healthy and happy. They asked me if I was coming to their party on Thursday. I hesitated. I saw, though, that GB had picked up on and disapproved of my hesitation. So I caught myself and said, "Ah... Thursday? Yeah, that sounds good."
Dream #3
I walked, possibly with a group of friends/co-workers, on a desert road on the outskirts of the suburbs. It was a warm, gold and blue day. I had reached some point along the walk and realized it was a long way to walk to my destination and that I might not get there on time.
I was now in a car with a group of friends/co-workers. We drove to a restaurant. We finished eating and headed back outside. As we left the restaurant the interior appeared grey, crowded, and steamy. Even the windows seemed clouded up with steam.
Outside, the area was like a filling station. Everybody else had gone back to the car. I told them I would walk. I probably wasn't in a hurry "now that we had made our meeting."
I walked up a street, 39th Street, which might have been the street from which it was a long distance to the meeting. The intersection I turned right on had a very deserty feel. But now I walked down a street which, on my side, the right side, anyway, was just a long, long suburban street.
I walked past a two-story house of maroon-painted brick with a row of tan-painted brick separating the two floors. As I gazed at the building, a man's shout startled me. I saw, up in the distance, a man walking my way. I tried not to act upset or startled.
I now walked in the shade of a row of very short houses. The man approached me. He looked clownish -- fattish, dumpy, with long tufts of bushy hair on either side of his head. He wore baggy, roundish, hobo-style clothes, a bowler hat, and possibly a beer-drinking hat. There were some bright colors on him somewhere.
The man was going on and on, as if he were ranting at someone on a cell phone. He said, "I told them, Hey! You aren't gonna fire me. You aren't gonna do that to me!"
We crossed paths. But then the man turned and followed me from a distance, continuing to act like he was speaking on a cell phone but now also implicating me in his conversation.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
(1/26/08) crowley's catholic wedding
(Entered in paper journal at 8 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was driving in a car along a hill in very dark night. Down the hill I saw a city which I thought of as Albuquerque. The city was spiral, in an almost hexagonal pattern. I felt like I lived in a trailer on the outskirts of the town.
From the center of teh city the "power" went out. The very center of the city was black, lightless, except a tiny circle of light, as in the center of a pentagon. From the center the orange and yellowish lights went out, to the edge of the city. All that were left were greyish-white lights, although those lights may actually have provided half the light in the city.
I felt like the town's energy had gone out because people hadn't been conserving, and so it would go out completely if people didn't finally start conserving. I wondered about my trailer on the outskirts of town. I couldn't doubt that I, too, had not conserved. But was I wasting energy even now, while I wasn't even in the trailer? I thought I should consider every way in which I could conserve.
I was in a church. There was a wedding, possibly between my old boss and constant mentor, EB, and a blonde woman. I stood near the back of the church. The church was brightly lit and full of people. EB (?) stood at the back of the church, in business attire rather than a tuxedo. He was a couple rows ahead of me, but on his side (the left side) of the church it seemed the pews ended a couple rows up from the rows on my side, so that EB and I both stood behind the back pews of our respective sides.
I stood by the bride, who was dressed in a normal wedding gown. At one point I leaned close and spoke with the bride. She was standing. She may suddenly have been wearing a thick, pink nightgown. At this point I may also have been a woman and wearing the same thing.
I was myself again. Everybody was kneeling for part of the church service, as if this were now a regular Catholic (?) service. The bride may have knelt (in her wedding gown again) on a footstool. I may have tried to go up a couple rows to find some space available on one of the kneeling benches in the pews.
As I looked I saw a glass door to my right. Through the door I saw another sanctuary, also full of people. A couple people, my co-worker CR and a tall man with a wide, baldish head and white hair, were walking toward the door.
The man was a Lutheran minister, and he wore a collar. I thought he had come dressed up for the wedding. I had previously only seen him in regular clothes. I didn't know if he knew me, but I knew him. I was happy to see him dressed up.
I was getting ready to hold the door open for the man and CR. But the man brusquely opened the door, almost pushing me over, and walked past me, barely acknowledging me, and not acknowledging me in any friendly way. I was shocked.
I saw a sign, as if it were turned on its side. The sign was maybe eight feet long and one foot wide. There was white lettering against a red background for most of it, but on the far right side was a black and white photo of a man who looked like Aleister Crowley except with a huge, black beard and a broad-brimmed hat.
The words that took up most of the sign described this man and were pairs of adjectives separated by slashes. The description pairs weren't quite opposites, more like between opposites and complements. The last part was "tall by nature and tall by stature/but always a stranger."
Dream #1
I was driving in a car along a hill in very dark night. Down the hill I saw a city which I thought of as Albuquerque. The city was spiral, in an almost hexagonal pattern. I felt like I lived in a trailer on the outskirts of the town.
From the center of teh city the "power" went out. The very center of the city was black, lightless, except a tiny circle of light, as in the center of a pentagon. From the center the orange and yellowish lights went out, to the edge of the city. All that were left were greyish-white lights, although those lights may actually have provided half the light in the city.
I felt like the town's energy had gone out because people hadn't been conserving, and so it would go out completely if people didn't finally start conserving. I wondered about my trailer on the outskirts of town. I couldn't doubt that I, too, had not conserved. But was I wasting energy even now, while I wasn't even in the trailer? I thought I should consider every way in which I could conserve.
I was in a church. There was a wedding, possibly between my old boss and constant mentor, EB, and a blonde woman. I stood near the back of the church. The church was brightly lit and full of people. EB (?) stood at the back of the church, in business attire rather than a tuxedo. He was a couple rows ahead of me, but on his side (the left side) of the church it seemed the pews ended a couple rows up from the rows on my side, so that EB and I both stood behind the back pews of our respective sides.
I stood by the bride, who was dressed in a normal wedding gown. At one point I leaned close and spoke with the bride. She was standing. She may suddenly have been wearing a thick, pink nightgown. At this point I may also have been a woman and wearing the same thing.
I was myself again. Everybody was kneeling for part of the church service, as if this were now a regular Catholic (?) service. The bride may have knelt (in her wedding gown again) on a footstool. I may have tried to go up a couple rows to find some space available on one of the kneeling benches in the pews.
As I looked I saw a glass door to my right. Through the door I saw another sanctuary, also full of people. A couple people, my co-worker CR and a tall man with a wide, baldish head and white hair, were walking toward the door.
The man was a Lutheran minister, and he wore a collar. I thought he had come dressed up for the wedding. I had previously only seen him in regular clothes. I didn't know if he knew me, but I knew him. I was happy to see him dressed up.
I was getting ready to hold the door open for the man and CR. But the man brusquely opened the door, almost pushing me over, and walked past me, barely acknowledging me, and not acknowledging me in any friendly way. I was shocked.
I saw a sign, as if it were turned on its side. The sign was maybe eight feet long and one foot wide. There was white lettering against a red background for most of it, but on the far right side was a black and white photo of a man who looked like Aleister Crowley except with a huge, black beard and a broad-brimmed hat.
The words that took up most of the sign described this man and were pairs of adjectives separated by slashes. The description pairs weren't quite opposites, more like between opposites and complements. The last part was "tall by nature and tall by stature/but always a stranger."
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.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
(2/4/09) i look awful; athletic heroes
(Entered in paper journal at 9 AM at Starbucks at Thirty-seventh Street and Park Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was sitting in a car in a parking lot that may have been partly asphalt and partly dirt. The parking lot was wide and empty. It was a sunny day. I was on the phone with my old boss and mentor EB, who may have been talking to me about how I needed to shape up in some way or another. I stood out of the car and was walking around, toward the front of the parking lot.
Coming into the parking lot were a few people I knew (and possibly some others I didn't know). At the front of this group was my old friend PD, who looked very good. She was tanned, thin, with good muscle tone and rich, blonde hair. I hoped PD wouldn't recognize me, and that if she did, that she'd think I was awful and want to avoid me. I didn't want PD to mention me to my old friend R.
I thought to myself, Well, thankfully, I do look awful. I looked down at myself. I was wearing an awful, old, orange t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts (what I, at this time in my life, was wearing for pajamas). I could tell I had lost a lot of weight, and that my hair and beard looked terrible. Continuing my phone conversation, I started scratching my ribs. Looking at my pose in the shadow on the dirt, I was satisfied that I really looked horrible -- I looked just like a drug addict or a diseased person.
I scuttled off toward my left, toward the chain-link fence boundary there, working my way back up toward my car. I was still talking with EB. I got back to my car. I few people I knew, including PD, were gathered around a picnic area near the car, as if we were in a national forest or in front of someone's house. My car, which had previously been exposed to sunlight in the parking lot, was now shaded over by a few trees. People were carrying things into the picnic area.
I had stepped into my car again. I was now ashamed for the appearance of my car (which was a very old Eagle that, in waking life, I'd owned while living in Arizona and New Mexico about seven years previous to this dream). The car looked okay. It was pretty empty. The back seats were pulled down so there was plenty of laying-down space. There was "car-trash" near the edges -- little scraps of paper, old scum, small change.
But I thought of the car as being extremely messy (in waking life, that car did end up being extremely cluttered, even filthy, as, toward the end of my stay in New Mexico, I began living in my car to save up money to get back to New York, and I had no other place to store all of my books, notebooks -- and the piles of cheap lingerie I would compulsively buy). I didn't want PD to see the car and know I lived in such an awful place.
I was somehow able to stand up completely straight inside the car. I now walked back out of the car, still speaking on the phone with EB. I agreed very loudly with something EB had said, so that PD would see I was talking with someone very important, like EB. PD didn't seem to pay me very much attention.
I was now in the back of the car. EB was telling me something about how I should really take better care of my clothing. I agreed with EB. I really wished I could take better care of my clothing.
From one of the hooks or seat-belt fixtures in the ceiling of the car, down diagonally to the window (?) on the left side of the car, were strung a neatly arranged bundle of scarves. The scarves were of different colors, all solid. One scarf was a creamy white. Another was an elegant maroon. The scarves all looked like women's scarves.
I thought I would look better if I wore these scarves, but I didn't think that was practical or reasonable, possibly because I couldn't wear so many scarves, or possibly because the scarves were women's scarves.
Dream #2
I was in a crowded bar with my old boss BS. The bar was a big square in the center of the room. The place might have been a sports bar. The floors, bar, and walls were wood. There might have been a second level around three walls of the fir first floor (?). There were neon signs on the walls and a large television screen covering most of the back wall.
BS and I were walking around the bar counter-clockwise, easily, as if the crowd were there but had none of the "push" of usual bar crowds. I was telling BS about a high school cross country runner who'd been one of my idols when I was in high school. I told BS that the runner hadn't been as famous as Adam Goucher (who actually had been a cross country star and and idol of mine when I was in high school), but how on a number of occasions he'd actually given Adam Goucher a good run for his money.
I could see two runners in a track race. Adam Goucher may have been wearing a red outfit, while the other person wore a blue one. The other person may have had an olive complexion, wavy, brown hair, a little stubble, and a lot of chest hair, and may have been a little more strongly built than Adam Goucher.
I then spoke with BS about Adam Goucher, and how he was really good in college, but how I really didn't know how he ended up professionally. Now the television screen was showing a high school (?) track race in which Adam Goucher was running. At least Adam Goucher, but possibly also a few other runners, had their running shirts' bottoms pulled up over their chests, exposing females breasts.
Dream #1
I was sitting in a car in a parking lot that may have been partly asphalt and partly dirt. The parking lot was wide and empty. It was a sunny day. I was on the phone with my old boss and mentor EB, who may have been talking to me about how I needed to shape up in some way or another. I stood out of the car and was walking around, toward the front of the parking lot.
Coming into the parking lot were a few people I knew (and possibly some others I didn't know). At the front of this group was my old friend PD, who looked very good. She was tanned, thin, with good muscle tone and rich, blonde hair. I hoped PD wouldn't recognize me, and that if she did, that she'd think I was awful and want to avoid me. I didn't want PD to mention me to my old friend R.
I thought to myself, Well, thankfully, I do look awful. I looked down at myself. I was wearing an awful, old, orange t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts (what I, at this time in my life, was wearing for pajamas). I could tell I had lost a lot of weight, and that my hair and beard looked terrible. Continuing my phone conversation, I started scratching my ribs. Looking at my pose in the shadow on the dirt, I was satisfied that I really looked horrible -- I looked just like a drug addict or a diseased person.
I scuttled off toward my left, toward the chain-link fence boundary there, working my way back up toward my car. I was still talking with EB. I got back to my car. I few people I knew, including PD, were gathered around a picnic area near the car, as if we were in a national forest or in front of someone's house. My car, which had previously been exposed to sunlight in the parking lot, was now shaded over by a few trees. People were carrying things into the picnic area.
I had stepped into my car again. I was now ashamed for the appearance of my car (which was a very old Eagle that, in waking life, I'd owned while living in Arizona and New Mexico about seven years previous to this dream). The car looked okay. It was pretty empty. The back seats were pulled down so there was plenty of laying-down space. There was "car-trash" near the edges -- little scraps of paper, old scum, small change.
But I thought of the car as being extremely messy (in waking life, that car did end up being extremely cluttered, even filthy, as, toward the end of my stay in New Mexico, I began living in my car to save up money to get back to New York, and I had no other place to store all of my books, notebooks -- and the piles of cheap lingerie I would compulsively buy). I didn't want PD to see the car and know I lived in such an awful place.
I was somehow able to stand up completely straight inside the car. I now walked back out of the car, still speaking on the phone with EB. I agreed very loudly with something EB had said, so that PD would see I was talking with someone very important, like EB. PD didn't seem to pay me very much attention.
I was now in the back of the car. EB was telling me something about how I should really take better care of my clothing. I agreed with EB. I really wished I could take better care of my clothing.
From one of the hooks or seat-belt fixtures in the ceiling of the car, down diagonally to the window (?) on the left side of the car, were strung a neatly arranged bundle of scarves. The scarves were of different colors, all solid. One scarf was a creamy white. Another was an elegant maroon. The scarves all looked like women's scarves.
I thought I would look better if I wore these scarves, but I didn't think that was practical or reasonable, possibly because I couldn't wear so many scarves, or possibly because the scarves were women's scarves.
Dream #2
I was in a crowded bar with my old boss BS. The bar was a big square in the center of the room. The place might have been a sports bar. The floors, bar, and walls were wood. There might have been a second level around three walls of the fir first floor (?). There were neon signs on the walls and a large television screen covering most of the back wall.
BS and I were walking around the bar counter-clockwise, easily, as if the crowd were there but had none of the "push" of usual bar crowds. I was telling BS about a high school cross country runner who'd been one of my idols when I was in high school. I told BS that the runner hadn't been as famous as Adam Goucher (who actually had been a cross country star and and idol of mine when I was in high school), but how on a number of occasions he'd actually given Adam Goucher a good run for his money.
I could see two runners in a track race. Adam Goucher may have been wearing a red outfit, while the other person wore a blue one. The other person may have had an olive complexion, wavy, brown hair, a little stubble, and a lot of chest hair, and may have been a little more strongly built than Adam Goucher.
I then spoke with BS about Adam Goucher, and how he was really good in college, but how I really didn't know how he ended up professionally. Now the television screen was showing a high school (?) track race in which Adam Goucher was running. At least Adam Goucher, but possibly also a few other runners, had their running shirts' bottoms pulled up over their chests, exposing females breasts.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
(1/9/10) my boss looks smart
(Entered in paper journal at 9:21 AM at Sit & Wonder cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was in a restaurant with my old boss EB. The place was an Asian food restaurant of some sort, possibly Japanese. The place looked more like a darkish bar, with no chairs or tables, but a couple of sofas in the center of the room, a bar on the left all, and a smaller bar on the back wall. The floors and bars were dark wood. The place was pretty empty. A few people milled around. They mostly seemed like workers.
EB had to leave. I got my food and sat down by myself. The people milled around closer to me, slowing down and kind of regarding me, not suspiciously, but close. There were pretty girls and young looking, skinny guys. They all looked Southeast Asian, with dark copper skin.
I finished most of my food and was now wading my white, plastic spoon through puddles of something like soy sauce and clumps of rice. One of the young men sat at the bar along the back wall. I sat in a sofa or a chair, at an angle, so that the man was behind me and to my right. The man faced me, his back to the bar.
The young man asked me, trying, with a friendly tone of voice, to mask his annoyance at my presence, "Why are you here?" He might then have told me, "Non-Asian people usually don't eat here." I thought I'd tell the young man that I liked the food, so I liked coming here.
But now EB was back. I was sitting somewhere slightly different from where I had been sitting before. There were now a few white people in the restaurant. I wondered how EB would fit into the environment of the quasi-suspicious people.
But EB, standing by a middle-aged, Japanese woman, pointed to a painting on the right wall and asked some question in Japanese, which I understood (?). EB had asked if the painting had come from a specific region. EB's Japanese was excellent. Even the woman was impressed. She possibly confirmed that the painting had come from the region EB had specified. EB said, in English, that he and his wife GB had gone there for a holiday, and that they had loved the place very much. I was impressed with how cultured EB was.
I was now standing near or sitting at the bar. EB stood to my left, leaning against the bar, obviously trying to talk with me. But now all the girls in the bar (possibly including two blonde twins I'd met one night at the Top Tunes karaoke bar) were all going crazy over EB. They were asking him questions which seemed to prove even more how intelligent he was.
I think EB was trying, as he enjoyed himself with the girls, to make the people in the restaurant feel like it was okay for me to be around. Nobody was even paying attention to me, anyway. I sat down on the chair (or sofa?) and began fiddling with my food again.
Dream #1
I was in a restaurant with my old boss EB. The place was an Asian food restaurant of some sort, possibly Japanese. The place looked more like a darkish bar, with no chairs or tables, but a couple of sofas in the center of the room, a bar on the left all, and a smaller bar on the back wall. The floors and bars were dark wood. The place was pretty empty. A few people milled around. They mostly seemed like workers.
EB had to leave. I got my food and sat down by myself. The people milled around closer to me, slowing down and kind of regarding me, not suspiciously, but close. There were pretty girls and young looking, skinny guys. They all looked Southeast Asian, with dark copper skin.
I finished most of my food and was now wading my white, plastic spoon through puddles of something like soy sauce and clumps of rice. One of the young men sat at the bar along the back wall. I sat in a sofa or a chair, at an angle, so that the man was behind me and to my right. The man faced me, his back to the bar.
The young man asked me, trying, with a friendly tone of voice, to mask his annoyance at my presence, "Why are you here?" He might then have told me, "Non-Asian people usually don't eat here." I thought I'd tell the young man that I liked the food, so I liked coming here.
But now EB was back. I was sitting somewhere slightly different from where I had been sitting before. There were now a few white people in the restaurant. I wondered how EB would fit into the environment of the quasi-suspicious people.
But EB, standing by a middle-aged, Japanese woman, pointed to a painting on the right wall and asked some question in Japanese, which I understood (?). EB had asked if the painting had come from a specific region. EB's Japanese was excellent. Even the woman was impressed. She possibly confirmed that the painting had come from the region EB had specified. EB said, in English, that he and his wife GB had gone there for a holiday, and that they had loved the place very much. I was impressed with how cultured EB was.
I was now standing near or sitting at the bar. EB stood to my left, leaning against the bar, obviously trying to talk with me. But now all the girls in the bar (possibly including two blonde twins I'd met one night at the Top Tunes karaoke bar) were all going crazy over EB. They were asking him questions which seemed to prove even more how intelligent he was.
I think EB was trying, as he enjoyed himself with the girls, to make the people in the restaurant feel like it was okay for me to be around. Nobody was even paying attention to me, anyway. I sat down on the chair (or sofa?) and began fiddling with my food again.
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