(Entered in paper journal at 5:50 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was watching a marathon which was run at night. It was in a city like New York City, but there was almost no light. There were crowds of people, maybe three or four rows deep, on either side of a road like a road in Central Park. It might have been raining a little.
I was with a group of friends. We had hurried toward the sidelines of the race. We had just missed seeing the leaders. The second pack was now running by. I strained (one direction or the other) to see the leaders. But I couldn't see them. I thought that if I ran I could get up to the head of the race to see the leaders. I started running. But then I began to fly, or to hover (in a standing position?) about a foot or two above the ground.
I was now on some hillside road, probably just outside of and overlooking a medium-sized city. I thought I could catch the marathoners if I shortcut the course. Plus I was now moving quickly enough to get ahead of them with plenty of time to spare.
But as I hovered/flew down the road at increasing speed, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop myself. I headed down another hillside road. I reached out for some dried-looking, orange-leafed shrub to stop myself. I ended up a little tangled in the shrub.
I now stood beside a car that was parked along the road. The car's passenger's side doors (and maybe the driver's side doors, as well) were open. The inside lights were on. The car was like a minivan-car hybrid. It was beige-silver.
I could hear the voice of a man, probably my age but a little more mature than I. It was as if the man stood somewhere to my left and slightly behind me. The man said something like, "We're jealous of you because all you have to do is blink your back lights --" The back lights of the car blinked. "-- blink your front lights --" The front lights of the car blinked. "-- and suddenly you're out of it."
I now stood in front of the car, right in front of its open front, passenger's side door, looking into the cabin.
Dream #2
I stood in front of a mirror in a bathroom. I may have noticed how, somehow, my face looked so much nicer than usual. I also seemed to be a little bit taller. But in some respects, especially around my jaw. I noticed that I had gained some weight.
Showing posts with label flying low to ground. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flying low to ground. Show all posts
Sunday, February 10, 2013
(10/11/07) waterbed succubus
(Entered in paper journal at 6 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I and my brother were walking out of a white-walled room and into a small hallway, then around a corner and into another room. We were possibly re-enacting a scene where an old man grabbed two little boys' genitals.
But when we got into the second room, my brother had become a woman, probably around my age, but more mature than I. My brother and I may possibly have been naked (and young?) before. Now I and the woman my brother had become were naked. The room was small, rather empty, but somehow cluttered. It was like a pile of something lay or stood under the blanket on the bed.
The woman lured me onto the bed. Suddenly the bed was like a clear bag -- actually like a clear version of a waterbed mattress. Somehow the woman had pulled us inside this bag. There was water, maybe even plant life, in the bag. The woman had pulled me in here to suffocate me.
A couple of times I could see as if I stood outside the bag. I saw the woman inside the bag, beating against it, herself suffocating. The bag was damp on the inside with evaporated and re-condensed water. The woman lay in maybe two or three inches of water. The water looked pure, distilled.
I was back in the bag now. It was now like a white blanket over the two of us. The woman was young, had a smooth face, tan skin, red hair, and thin, blue eyes. I lay as she sat over me. I may have been an out-of-shape man, in a sense too weak to defend himself against a healthy woman.
The woman had set up the bag so that I would suffocate. The whole bag was losing oxygen, but the bottom part lost it more quickly than the top part. The woman could sit over me and watch me suffocate. When she saw I was suffocated she could get out of the bag before she suffocated. She had tricked, not forced, me into this situation.
As I lay dying the woman spoke softly to me. But her comments were somewhat cruel. The woman said that she and a lot of people were jealous of me, and that was why she was doing this to me. She may have started singing a pretty, gentle song to the same effect.
As the woman continued singing I found myself flying through an enormous structure like a dim warehouse constructed of brick and black iron. I flew through "tunnels" consisting of tent-like, greyish, translucent, thin fabric for walls and ceiling and varicolored, mostly purple, pink, orange, and blue, quilts for floors. I hovered only about six inches above the floors. The tunnels may only have been about two feet tall.
As I flew along I saw lifted up flaps along the ceilings of the tunnel. They were exposed to windows which showed high, deep, blue sky. I flew along through sloped tunnels now. The sloped tunnels led up to the ceiling. I thought, If the woman doesn't see me and doesn't suspect, I could fly through one of the flaps and out one of the windows (or out through the ceiling?).
I feel like at one point I flow along over wall-less quilt-floors. I could see down to the floor of the warehouse. I could see all the multicolored" floors filling the warehouse.
(One little thing I think is kind of -- though not extremely -- interesting reflecting on this dream is that, in waking life, about three or so years later, i.e. in about 2010, The American Folk Art Museum, which was at that time located next to the Museum of Modern Art, and was, by then, one of my favorite museums in New York City, went a little quilt crazy, showing an exhibition by Paula Nadelstern, then showing a two-floor exhibition of the history of American quilts, and finally putting on a gigantic show of red and white quilts at the Armory on 66th Street and Park Avenue.)
Dream #1
I and my brother were walking out of a white-walled room and into a small hallway, then around a corner and into another room. We were possibly re-enacting a scene where an old man grabbed two little boys' genitals.
But when we got into the second room, my brother had become a woman, probably around my age, but more mature than I. My brother and I may possibly have been naked (and young?) before. Now I and the woman my brother had become were naked. The room was small, rather empty, but somehow cluttered. It was like a pile of something lay or stood under the blanket on the bed.
The woman lured me onto the bed. Suddenly the bed was like a clear bag -- actually like a clear version of a waterbed mattress. Somehow the woman had pulled us inside this bag. There was water, maybe even plant life, in the bag. The woman had pulled me in here to suffocate me.
A couple of times I could see as if I stood outside the bag. I saw the woman inside the bag, beating against it, herself suffocating. The bag was damp on the inside with evaporated and re-condensed water. The woman lay in maybe two or three inches of water. The water looked pure, distilled.
I was back in the bag now. It was now like a white blanket over the two of us. The woman was young, had a smooth face, tan skin, red hair, and thin, blue eyes. I lay as she sat over me. I may have been an out-of-shape man, in a sense too weak to defend himself against a healthy woman.
The woman had set up the bag so that I would suffocate. The whole bag was losing oxygen, but the bottom part lost it more quickly than the top part. The woman could sit over me and watch me suffocate. When she saw I was suffocated she could get out of the bag before she suffocated. She had tricked, not forced, me into this situation.
As I lay dying the woman spoke softly to me. But her comments were somewhat cruel. The woman said that she and a lot of people were jealous of me, and that was why she was doing this to me. She may have started singing a pretty, gentle song to the same effect.
As the woman continued singing I found myself flying through an enormous structure like a dim warehouse constructed of brick and black iron. I flew through "tunnels" consisting of tent-like, greyish, translucent, thin fabric for walls and ceiling and varicolored, mostly purple, pink, orange, and blue, quilts for floors. I hovered only about six inches above the floors. The tunnels may only have been about two feet tall.
As I flew along I saw lifted up flaps along the ceilings of the tunnel. They were exposed to windows which showed high, deep, blue sky. I flew along through sloped tunnels now. The sloped tunnels led up to the ceiling. I thought, If the woman doesn't see me and doesn't suspect, I could fly through one of the flaps and out one of the windows (or out through the ceiling?).
I feel like at one point I flow along over wall-less quilt-floors. I could see down to the floor of the warehouse. I could see all the multicolored" floors filling the warehouse.
(One little thing I think is kind of -- though not extremely -- interesting reflecting on this dream is that, in waking life, about three or so years later, i.e. in about 2010, The American Folk Art Museum, which was at that time located next to the Museum of Modern Art, and was, by then, one of my favorite museums in New York City, went a little quilt crazy, showing an exhibition by Paula Nadelstern, then showing a two-floor exhibition of the history of American quilts, and finally putting on a gigantic show of red and white quilts at the Armory on 66th Street and Park Avenue.)
Monday, January 21, 2013
(4/30/08) momentum
(Entered in paper journal at 6:19 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I stood out on a sidewalk at night with a group of people before a long folding table. The table was stacked with meals that we were assigned to take to older, probably housebound, people. I was paired up to deliver a meal with a pretty, blonde girl with long hair.
I bent over the table to grab a meal. I was wearing loose, tan, casual pants like for the summer and pink panties. The pretty girl stood to my right. I bent over so that she could see the waistband of my panties above the waistband of my pants. I hoped the girl would be turned on by the sight.
As we walked away from the table and into a suburban neighborhood (but, possibly, first through a college neighborhood?) I realized the girl might think I was a fool for trying to show off the fact that I was wearing panties.
The girl and I got slightly separated. The areas we had been walking through had been pretty well lit by orange streetlamp. But now things were dim. The sky was also swarming with steely, wiry, grey clouds.
I had gotten ahead of the girl. I now ran back toward her. I saw her standing around the corner at the end of the block, which was at the top of a slight hill.
Somehow I was now running in a different direction. To show the girl I was good or strong (or, simply, not a fool), I began flying. I flew with my stomach only a foot or so above the sidewalk.
I flew under a barren tree like a cherry tree but with the branches more gnarled and spiky and densely spaced. I decided I would loop under, around, above, and back under the tree canopy to show how well I could fly.
But I couldn't quite do it. I couldn't keep my momentum up through the whole loop. I fell down through the canopy once, or maybe even twice. I tried to consider how I would keep up my momentum.
Suddenly I sat up in bed. I must have been in a young boy's bedroom. The lights were on. I was under a blanket that might have had an action cartoon scene on it. To my left were plastic figures, like Star Wars figures, in all different sizes, from maybe two feet tall to the standard action-figure size, i.e. around three inches tall.
I could hear myself having a conversation with my friend R. I got up and walked around the room and into the hallway. I thought I heard R at the front door.
I was going to check through the peephole. But as I walked to the door I was pulled back. R's dog bit some part of me, like the hollow behind my knee or the hollow behind my elbow, and pulled me back toward the bed. I laughed at the dog and probably fell down onto the bed.
Dream #1
I stood out on a sidewalk at night with a group of people before a long folding table. The table was stacked with meals that we were assigned to take to older, probably housebound, people. I was paired up to deliver a meal with a pretty, blonde girl with long hair.
I bent over the table to grab a meal. I was wearing loose, tan, casual pants like for the summer and pink panties. The pretty girl stood to my right. I bent over so that she could see the waistband of my panties above the waistband of my pants. I hoped the girl would be turned on by the sight.
As we walked away from the table and into a suburban neighborhood (but, possibly, first through a college neighborhood?) I realized the girl might think I was a fool for trying to show off the fact that I was wearing panties.
The girl and I got slightly separated. The areas we had been walking through had been pretty well lit by orange streetlamp. But now things were dim. The sky was also swarming with steely, wiry, grey clouds.
I had gotten ahead of the girl. I now ran back toward her. I saw her standing around the corner at the end of the block, which was at the top of a slight hill.
Somehow I was now running in a different direction. To show the girl I was good or strong (or, simply, not a fool), I began flying. I flew with my stomach only a foot or so above the sidewalk.
I flew under a barren tree like a cherry tree but with the branches more gnarled and spiky and densely spaced. I decided I would loop under, around, above, and back under the tree canopy to show how well I could fly.
But I couldn't quite do it. I couldn't keep my momentum up through the whole loop. I fell down through the canopy once, or maybe even twice. I tried to consider how I would keep up my momentum.
Suddenly I sat up in bed. I must have been in a young boy's bedroom. The lights were on. I was under a blanket that might have had an action cartoon scene on it. To my left were plastic figures, like Star Wars figures, in all different sizes, from maybe two feet tall to the standard action-figure size, i.e. around three inches tall.
I could hear myself having a conversation with my friend R. I got up and walked around the room and into the hallway. I thought I heard R at the front door.
I was going to check through the peephole. But as I walked to the door I was pulled back. R's dog bit some part of me, like the hollow behind my knee or the hollow behind my elbow, and pulled me back toward the bed. I laughed at the dog and probably fell down onto the bed.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
(5/9/08) not quite below the radar
(Entered in paper journal at 6:10 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn into Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was on a sidewalk outside a building at night. The building had an overhang and square columns in front of it. I started running toward the doors of the building.
I realized I could fly. I slammed open the door of the building and began flying. I hovered maybe six inches above the ground, in a lying position, stomach-down.
The floor was sloped downward, and the walls were of polished marble. The place reminded me of the hallways in Grand Central Station. The area seemed made for a lot of traffic, but it was relatively empty at this time.
I flew left, into a dim hallway that was lit only by the light falling in from the adjoining hallways. I flew past a television screen and saw myself on it, flying, like the screen was showing a view from a nearby security camera. A couple people walked past me. I could see them on the screen, too.
I flew into a lobby area, like the reception area in an apartment. There was one person at a desk. The place was small and brightly lit. I stopped flying and stood up.
I realized now that people had been using the security camera precisely to watch for someone like me. I knew that, now that I had shown myself, the people would be after me.
Dream #1
I was on a sidewalk outside a building at night. The building had an overhang and square columns in front of it. I started running toward the doors of the building.
I realized I could fly. I slammed open the door of the building and began flying. I hovered maybe six inches above the ground, in a lying position, stomach-down.
The floor was sloped downward, and the walls were of polished marble. The place reminded me of the hallways in Grand Central Station. The area seemed made for a lot of traffic, but it was relatively empty at this time.
I flew left, into a dim hallway that was lit only by the light falling in from the adjoining hallways. I flew past a television screen and saw myself on it, flying, like the screen was showing a view from a nearby security camera. A couple people walked past me. I could see them on the screen, too.
I flew into a lobby area, like the reception area in an apartment. There was one person at a desk. The place was small and brightly lit. I stopped flying and stood up.
I realized now that people had been using the security camera precisely to watch for someone like me. I knew that, now that I had shown myself, the people would be after me.
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