(8/7/08) pushed out of unused desk; lingerie roach

(Entered in paper journal at 6:25 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn into Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was at my desk at work. I was watching something like an earnings presentation on my mini-DVD player. My old boss DO walked around on the floor. I suddenly felt like I wasn't working hard enough. I tried to concentrate on the earnings presentation even harder.

Suddenly the angle I was sitting at was is if I were sitting at my co-worker (on DO's team) MD's desk at the building we'd previously worked at. (In waking life, my company had recently moved from one building to another building.) I wondered if DO might stop by and say hi to me.

I felt someone pushing down on my left elbow. It was MD, wearing a casual, white button-up and some khaki shorts. It was like he was trying to elbow me out of his chair.

Dream #2

I was in "my bedroom." I was pulling some nice dresses out of a bag. One dress was white with pinkish-red designs. I was going to hang it in my closet.

I walked to my closet and noticed how easily I could see up to my top shelf. (In waking life, the top shelf of my closet was a few inches above the top of my head.) There weren't many articles of clothing there. (In waking life, the top shelf of my closet was where I horded all of my lingerie and women's clothing -- mostly cheap articles I'd bought from discount stores.) I thought something like, I'm really cleaning up!

But something toward the wall caught my eye as I was looking away. I looked back. The thing was a "roach." It was maybe two inches long, and fat. Its back end was covered in white, as if it were casting off skin or as if it were developing a shell around itself to undergo metamorphosis. I couldn't tell whether the thing was dead or alive.

(10/9/08) business u-turn

Dream #1

It was a bright day. I was in a car with my boss BS and some other people. BS was driving us down a side road that was just to the right of a highway that ran slightly over the ground (and was supported by a concrete ramp, not columns).

We were all talking about something that would happen, possibly some people that were going to visit the place we had just come from. We thought it would be good to get information from those people. We were interested to hear (from our own conversation?) that they would be arriving. We all discussed the logistics of how we would arrange a call with them once we determined when they would actually arrive, which would be in the next couple hours.

Then, at an intersection, BS pulled a u-turn. We all wondered what BS was doing. He said he was driving back to where we had come from. I noticed there were a lot of small holes (like rivets?) in the road. We all asked BS why he would take our time like that, when we had finished everything we had done there. (The place we had come from may now have been Boston.) BS told us not to worry, that it was only a fifteen-minute trip, anyway.

We were now in a big room that was part of a house. The house didn't feel very well set-up at all. It also felt like it was in the middle of the wilderness. The room we were in was cluttered. It seemed to be full of fine furniture, like from eighteenth-century Europe, as well as a bunch of trash from the present.

BS had sent someone out to find if "the two (or three?) people" had arrived. The person came back and said that the people (each person representing a company) had arrived, but that each was now on a big conference call, discussing his respective company's earnings results.

BS seemed disappointed with me, as if I had told him we'd be able to see these people in person. He told someone that he wanted me to keep dialing the people's phone numbers until I got a hold of them, as it was  really imperative that we get information from them. We'd found out a lot on our own. But now we needed to verify it.

(1/2/09) looking at porn and doing the wrong work

(Entered in paper journal at 8:54 AM at Flying Saucer cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I was in a room with my brother. The room was like a living room, but I may have been thinking of it as an office. The room had a wood frame around it, like the framing for a loft bed. There may only have been two solid walls, while the other walls were like the section of frame where the walls would eventually be put up. The floors were piled under with multicolored quilts and blankets.

My brother sat or lay on his stomach before an entertainment center which had two or three bright-screened computers on it. I thought, I shouldn't check what he's doing. I'll get in trouble for not working. I looked at the computer screen.

I knew that my brother was typing a lot of random-seeming, almost humorous, words into an internet search engine to pull up pornographic websites showing fat, black women in lingerie. I could see a page like this in my mind's eye: photos of women dispersed throughout a white page, with faded borders around them. But when my brother actually pulled up the web page, it displayed a photo of a few really beautiful, black women, skinny, wearing really elegant lingerie.

I was now "upstairs," on a floor of desks like a trading floor. Only about a quarter of the lights on the floor were on. It was night. I was walking toward "my desk." I was trying to remember the user ID and password for my computer.

I was going to do some work. But I thought to myself, What kind of work am I supposed to be doing? I thought I would pull some earnings conference call transcripts off the internet, to keep my mind fresh on how companies were doing. I wondered whether this would be considered work or whether this would be considered something I wasn't supposed to do.