(Entered in paper journal at 6:20 AM at Starbucks on 29th Street and Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I saw my co-worker MA in the office. I reached my hands out toward him in a weird way, holding both my arms out straight in front of me, maybe slightly bent, with my hands bending inward toward each other at the wrists, the palms facing outward, toward MA. I felt like I was trying to contact MA, like I may not have been quite there.
Dream #2
I was in an asphalt lot, possibly a schoolyard. I was with a group of people. They seemed older than I, but possibly around my age. The day was bright and clear and hot. We all stood listening to someone. I broke off for some reason.
I bounded around the schoolyard. Eventually I found that I could run on the walls of the yard, i.e. parallel to the ground. The walls were like cinder blocks, but they had a weird texture to them. I was now showing someone else, a man a little older than I, that there was nothing supernatural about running on the walls: it was just a matter of momentum.
The yard was now divided, by concrete walls and chain link fences (simultaneously or alternately?) which were covered at their feet with thick weeds, into four sections. The group of people were in the upper, left quadrant. At first, the man and I were in the lower, left quadrant. Somehow my running (I don't know if he ever ran) got us into the lower, right quadrant.
We may have been in the upper, right quadrant when I saw the group of people in the upper, left quadrant. I felt like those people might have been judging me for not being in the same quadrant as they, but also for being crazy enough to think that I could actually run on the walls.
I was fighting to get back into the quadrant with everybody else. But I could only get so far up the barriers: they were topped with sprawly coils of barbed wire, especially the chain link fences (which may have been the barrier between the left and right quadrants).
I tried not to panic in front of the other man. Instead, I acted like I was teaching him. Eventually I had a new theory: I could bounce off the fence and pull myself, in a parabola "parallel" to the ground, back to the fence at a higher point. In that way I could make a jump close enough to the barbed wire to get over it. But, I thought, if I"m not even supposed to be able to run on the walls, what makes me think I would be able to jump up the walls?
Showing posts with label co-worker MA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label co-worker MA. Show all posts
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
(2/4/08) refrigerated laundry
(Entered in paper journal at 8:55 PM on B-train from Manhattan to Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was washing clothes in some place like a living room. There were a few people from my work. The room was somewhat empty, large, greyish, and dim. The washing machine was next to the refrigerator.
I pulled some clothes out of the washing machine. They weren't completely done. I hope that, as I pulled my clothes out of the washer, nobody would notice that the clothes were a mix of girl clothes and boy clothes.
But now I was putting a second batch of clothes together (out of the fridge?). I thought I then put the clothes into the wash. But then, walking away, I realized I'd actually put the clothes into the freezer.
I pulled the clothes out of the freezer. The articles of clothing, mostly girl clothes, were frozen and stuck to the walls. I laughed at myself for having done something so stupid.
MA, one of the liaisons between the Research and Sales departments at my company, caught a glimpse of my clothes as I put them into the washer. MA regarded me with a little disappointment.
Dream #1
I was washing clothes in some place like a living room. There were a few people from my work. The room was somewhat empty, large, greyish, and dim. The washing machine was next to the refrigerator.
I pulled some clothes out of the washing machine. They weren't completely done. I hope that, as I pulled my clothes out of the washer, nobody would notice that the clothes were a mix of girl clothes and boy clothes.
But now I was putting a second batch of clothes together (out of the fridge?). I thought I then put the clothes into the wash. But then, walking away, I realized I'd actually put the clothes into the freezer.
I pulled the clothes out of the freezer. The articles of clothing, mostly girl clothes, were frozen and stuck to the walls. I laughed at myself for having done something so stupid.
MA, one of the liaisons between the Research and Sales departments at my company, caught a glimpse of my clothes as I put them into the washer. MA regarded me with a little disappointment.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
(7/27/08) store without workers; safety lesson; take it with you?
(Entered in paper journal at 7:45 AM at Starbucks on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was in an enormous grocery store all by myself at night or in the very early morning. The store had a few different sections, all of which were large, but some of which felt like convenience store aisles, small-town grocery store aisles, health-food store aisles, or regular grocery store aisles.
I was near the back of the store. There were wide window walls looking out at a black, empty parking lot. This section of the store had a strange shape, trapezoidal, almost, and there were checkout lanes set at an odd angle facing the window wall.
There were no workers at any of the checkout lanes. I wondered how I could buy the food I wanted. I walked up to one of the lanes and looked onto its conveyor belt. A couple folds of cash and receipts had been left on the belt. I figured people must have paid by leaving their money here for the workers eventually to pick up.
I threw some of my own money on the belt, as if I were paying for the food. Then I picked the money up again, hoping I could find somebody in here to pay, or not wanting to be accused of shoplifting if I'd walked out of the store after having left my money in the wrong place. I'm not sure I even had any merchandise with me at that point.
I wandered through another area of the store, through some dry goods shelves and past a packaged meat cooler. I was now holding a few items, including a bottle of Gatorade.
I was now outside the store, in the big parking lot. The parking lot was empty. I saw a fully lit grocery store. I walked toward it. I hadn't left any money for my merchandise. I thought that the lit storefront was the front part of the store I had just been in. There were people inside: I could see them. I figured I could pay them.
But it didn't quite make sense to me. The store I'd been in, it seemed, was on the other side of the parking lot. Plus, the piles of money I'd seen on the conveyor belt seemed to be payments left by people who'd been in the store before me. Nevertheless, I wanted to pay an actual person, so I would have a witness in case anybody tried to accuse me of not paying.
When I got to the front of the store I saw one kind of small checkout lane a few feet back from a metal detector. The store itself was huge, clean, and harshly white-lit. Everybody at the checkout lane was from the company I worked at.
One of the liaisons between the Sales department and the Research department, MA, stood leaning against the shoplifting scanner and facing the doorway. I said hi. He began complaining about things at our company, and possibly particularly about the bad quality of our company's research.
Dream #2
I was with a group of folks in the mountains. We were being educated on safety for some big project that used heavy machinery. It was day. We lay stomach-down with our heads over a steep cliff.
Our teacher mentioned people who weren't being safe. She told us the consequences those people would suffer. As an illustration an enormous tractor-shovel came tumbling over the cliff to our left. We watched as it crashed down below. The cab of the vehicle was dull silver. The shovel was dull blue. The cliff was rocky, with ledges or shelves coated lightly in snow.
Now another giant tractor shovel fell off the cliff. Our instructor spoke about in the first vehicle there had been no survivors. The second crash hadn't been so bad.
I saw one of the people in the first vehicle. He was a bald, white man, kind of punk-looking, very tough and fleshy. He might have been laying in the cab, covered in blood. He didn't look quite dead to me, even though it had been understood that all the people in the first vehicle had died immediately.
Now I was rushing through a hallway with a group of people, alongside a bed carrying the man. The bed and the man were very clean. The man may have been wearing an oxygen mask. His eyes were open. I thought, Perhaps what the instructor meant was that the man died not too long after having gotten to the hospital.
The man started nodding his head. I could hear the instructor say, "The man's brain was so damaged that he could respond to every stimulus only by nodding his head. He was in this frenzied condition until he died." For some reason I couldn't believe this was so. It seemed to me like somehow he was regenerating.
The hospital hallways were wide and elegant, with tan, polished, gravel-patterned (?) floors, glass-green walls, and slanted, glass ceilings. I stood in the hallway as the man was wheeled into a glass-walled room just out of my sight. Before me were windows warm with sunlight. Outside was a view like an enormous airstrip in the wintertime.
Dream #3
I was walking in a place that half looked like a backyard and half looked like an area around a building like a church or a small community center. I may have been speaking on my cell phone with my mom.
People started filing out of the building. They all looked like business people. I noticed that one of the people was Mayor Bloomberg. He wore a black polo shirt and whitish khakis. I was pretty impressed and turned as he passed me, thinking I might go say hi to him.
(Oddly enough, a very similar thing happened to me in waking life one early morning in the winter of 2011, right in front of Radio City Music Hall. In waking life, Mayor Bloomberg was, of course, wearing a suit, and he'd come out of a black SUV, accompanied by a small retinue of attendants.)
I turned around. In the group of people was another famous person I couldn't quite place. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, since I thought that would make me look suspicious somehow. So I just kept walking.
I was now in an enormous building which may have been a loading dock or an airplane hangar. Warm sunlight flowed into the building, giving the whole place an airy, yellowy feel.
Before me and at a small distance was a pile of boxes and furniture. I recognized this as being all my possessions. One of the boxes was broken open. Inside were books. Looking at the books I realized I was interested in a lot of them. I had originally packed this stuff away thinking I didn't want it anymore. Now I thought I did.
I thought I would try to carry all this stuff with me wherever I was going. But I knew that if I even took time getting everything all put back together I'd risk being late wherever I was going. If I tried to carry this stuff with me (and likely it would break and scatter all over the place as I was going), I would definitely be late and miss my flight or whatever was taking me wherever I was going.
I was talking with my mom on my cell phone again. My mom told me there was a post office or UPS right near where I was (I was at an airport). I could take all this stuff to the post office and they would box it (?) and send it to wherever I was going.
This plan didn't make sense to me. It seemed like I'd be wasting time trying to pack the stuff up and leave it here or trying to pack the stuff up and carry it with me. Nevertheless, I figured I would end up doing what my mom told me to do.
Dream #1
I was in an enormous grocery store all by myself at night or in the very early morning. The store had a few different sections, all of which were large, but some of which felt like convenience store aisles, small-town grocery store aisles, health-food store aisles, or regular grocery store aisles.
I was near the back of the store. There were wide window walls looking out at a black, empty parking lot. This section of the store had a strange shape, trapezoidal, almost, and there were checkout lanes set at an odd angle facing the window wall.
There were no workers at any of the checkout lanes. I wondered how I could buy the food I wanted. I walked up to one of the lanes and looked onto its conveyor belt. A couple folds of cash and receipts had been left on the belt. I figured people must have paid by leaving their money here for the workers eventually to pick up.
I threw some of my own money on the belt, as if I were paying for the food. Then I picked the money up again, hoping I could find somebody in here to pay, or not wanting to be accused of shoplifting if I'd walked out of the store after having left my money in the wrong place. I'm not sure I even had any merchandise with me at that point.
I wandered through another area of the store, through some dry goods shelves and past a packaged meat cooler. I was now holding a few items, including a bottle of Gatorade.
I was now outside the store, in the big parking lot. The parking lot was empty. I saw a fully lit grocery store. I walked toward it. I hadn't left any money for my merchandise. I thought that the lit storefront was the front part of the store I had just been in. There were people inside: I could see them. I figured I could pay them.
But it didn't quite make sense to me. The store I'd been in, it seemed, was on the other side of the parking lot. Plus, the piles of money I'd seen on the conveyor belt seemed to be payments left by people who'd been in the store before me. Nevertheless, I wanted to pay an actual person, so I would have a witness in case anybody tried to accuse me of not paying.
When I got to the front of the store I saw one kind of small checkout lane a few feet back from a metal detector. The store itself was huge, clean, and harshly white-lit. Everybody at the checkout lane was from the company I worked at.
One of the liaisons between the Sales department and the Research department, MA, stood leaning against the shoplifting scanner and facing the doorway. I said hi. He began complaining about things at our company, and possibly particularly about the bad quality of our company's research.
Dream #2
I was with a group of folks in the mountains. We were being educated on safety for some big project that used heavy machinery. It was day. We lay stomach-down with our heads over a steep cliff.
Our teacher mentioned people who weren't being safe. She told us the consequences those people would suffer. As an illustration an enormous tractor-shovel came tumbling over the cliff to our left. We watched as it crashed down below. The cab of the vehicle was dull silver. The shovel was dull blue. The cliff was rocky, with ledges or shelves coated lightly in snow.
Now another giant tractor shovel fell off the cliff. Our instructor spoke about in the first vehicle there had been no survivors. The second crash hadn't been so bad.
I saw one of the people in the first vehicle. He was a bald, white man, kind of punk-looking, very tough and fleshy. He might have been laying in the cab, covered in blood. He didn't look quite dead to me, even though it had been understood that all the people in the first vehicle had died immediately.
Now I was rushing through a hallway with a group of people, alongside a bed carrying the man. The bed and the man were very clean. The man may have been wearing an oxygen mask. His eyes were open. I thought, Perhaps what the instructor meant was that the man died not too long after having gotten to the hospital.
The man started nodding his head. I could hear the instructor say, "The man's brain was so damaged that he could respond to every stimulus only by nodding his head. He was in this frenzied condition until he died." For some reason I couldn't believe this was so. It seemed to me like somehow he was regenerating.
The hospital hallways were wide and elegant, with tan, polished, gravel-patterned (?) floors, glass-green walls, and slanted, glass ceilings. I stood in the hallway as the man was wheeled into a glass-walled room just out of my sight. Before me were windows warm with sunlight. Outside was a view like an enormous airstrip in the wintertime.
Dream #3
I was walking in a place that half looked like a backyard and half looked like an area around a building like a church or a small community center. I may have been speaking on my cell phone with my mom.
People started filing out of the building. They all looked like business people. I noticed that one of the people was Mayor Bloomberg. He wore a black polo shirt and whitish khakis. I was pretty impressed and turned as he passed me, thinking I might go say hi to him.
(Oddly enough, a very similar thing happened to me in waking life one early morning in the winter of 2011, right in front of Radio City Music Hall. In waking life, Mayor Bloomberg was, of course, wearing a suit, and he'd come out of a black SUV, accompanied by a small retinue of attendants.)
I turned around. In the group of people was another famous person I couldn't quite place. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, since I thought that would make me look suspicious somehow. So I just kept walking.
I was now in an enormous building which may have been a loading dock or an airplane hangar. Warm sunlight flowed into the building, giving the whole place an airy, yellowy feel.
Before me and at a small distance was a pile of boxes and furniture. I recognized this as being all my possessions. One of the boxes was broken open. Inside were books. Looking at the books I realized I was interested in a lot of them. I had originally packed this stuff away thinking I didn't want it anymore. Now I thought I did.
I thought I would try to carry all this stuff with me wherever I was going. But I knew that if I even took time getting everything all put back together I'd risk being late wherever I was going. If I tried to carry this stuff with me (and likely it would break and scatter all over the place as I was going), I would definitely be late and miss my flight or whatever was taking me wherever I was going.
I was talking with my mom on my cell phone again. My mom told me there was a post office or UPS right near where I was (I was at an airport). I could take all this stuff to the post office and they would box it (?) and send it to wherever I was going.
This plan didn't make sense to me. It seemed like I'd be wasting time trying to pack the stuff up and leave it here or trying to pack the stuff up and carry it with me. Nevertheless, I figured I would end up doing what my mom told me to do.
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