(2/18-19/06) i don't want to see the insanity; the police must be lying

(NOTE on dream entries -- Some dreams I entered into my paper journal were entered immediately after I woke from the dreams. Some of these dreams may have been written in a "coherent" narrative style. Others were written in an outline style. Earlier on, in 2004, I would flesh out and "analyze" these dreams in my daytime journals. I'm not really sure whether I did the same thing from the dreams I took this method with in 2006 and possibly 2005. Since this blog is dedicated to recording the dreams in my dedicated dream journals, however, I am sticking to the form of the dreams as written in the journals.)

(Entered in paper journal at 11:07 PM at home in Brooklyn -- pretty sure immediately after waking from the dream.)

Dream 1

I sat by a computer doing a project -- radio/computer news -- "fair" in Kmart parking lot -- some area blocked off (by convenience store "van") where strange kid staring.

Later on, still by screen -- kid vanished. Something wrong with place, too, Hearing news as watching live scene of highway in Seattle. Talking of kid, kid probably in Seattle.

cars buzzing along highway. News stranger -- kid maybe insane -- then kid probably stolen by father -- father probably insane -- at first highway on web page, just live photos like on Vail.com website -- now action video, direct -- a car makes a tail of exhaust -- i thought, i could be watching them.

the highway seems closer and closer, until the "camera" is right there -- i click out, think, last thing I need is to get possessed by this madman -- as i click i send a car flying up and back down in Seattle -- the highway now my own -- see, as "radio" narrates, cars driving on grass, grass fields everywhere -- crashing, laying in ruts, broken, crashed cars everywhere -- "radio" narrates this is the junkyard, people come here to wreck their cars.

so now it seems like it should feel safe. But I feel even more afraid. And I still want to change "states" on the website, but I don't want to go to any other state. I'm afraid that the insane man will drive there, too, and possess me. --

Dream 2

(Entered in paper journal at 8:43 AM at Starbucks on 1st Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)

I was with my brother. We were in a big van that I drove.We stopped at the edge of a park, either a city park or a national park. I got out of the van and got back in. I had seen a park house at the top of the hill pretty easily from in front of the van. I was excited to go there. But I knew we had to get somewhere in the van.

I explained this to my brother. He responded positively and said, "Then I'll just spend a minute or two in the park. You can wait idling right here."

Previously we had been in something like a roadside parking area where cars pull in diagonally with the curb.

Now we were on the corner of an intersection. I thought, after a second or two of my brother being gone, Look how happy he was to go. I won't pressure him to leave. I'll pull in and park.

I pulled into a small, half-dirt, half-asphalt parking lot. There were only a few spaces. I parked in front of, i.e. front-to-front with, an army-green car that looked like a police car. I drove a tiny bit too far and ran off the asphalt and onto the dirt -- about a six- or seven-inch drop.

As I was trying to pull back, thinking it wouldn't be impressive to have my car like that in front of a "cop car," a "real" cop car's passengers called to me on a loudspeaker, telling me to pull away from the "cop car" and step out of my van. They thought I was a criminal for whom they had set up this green "cop car" as a decoy. I was already trying to pull back. but the asphalt drop was too steep for me to get up.

I looked back to the "real" cop car. Both cops were half out of their opened doors with their guns ppointing at me. They told me to forget pulling my van back and just to get out of the vehicle. Neither they nor I were sure they wouldn't shoot me, even if I did comply with their orders. They thought I was pretty dangerous.

We sent thoughts back and forth -- some woman had pegged me as a really bad person. I tried to explain (telepathically) that I knew who she was and that she had followed me around, but that I had never done anything bad in front of her. She had posed as a friend.

I thought back through all my memories of the woman, unable to believe the woman could have betrayed me. I tried to figure out whether she was trying to frame me for something she had done. All my memories, though, were of her (a blonde, mousy-looking, lower-middle-class woman, dry-skin-cheeked, worn-eyed) decking herself with household items from bargain stores. During some of my memories, she and I were making movies.

But I had one particular memory of sneaking up and catching the woman by surprise. The woman was decking herself for one of our movies. She was excited about it, but in a calm way. She had rolls of wide, clear tape on her head. She cut the rolls "into shape" with scissors.

I thought, The police must be lying. The woman really liked me and making movies with me. She wouldn't accuse me like this.

(5/19/09) pursued by an old friend

(Entered at 9:35 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

It was a sunny, blue day. I floated or walked along an asphalt road and then along a dusty dirt road or path. I floated/walked up to and then past a small bridge that went over a little creek that ran to my right. On the other side of the bridge may have been a border of dusty dirt, then a slightly rolling field of lawn, at the edge of which, surrounded by trees, may have been an apartment complex.

I "remembered" a conversation I'd had with my old boss BS, in which BS had implied how I hadn't been good enough to keep, and in which he'd implied that he'd do whatever he could to keep anybody else from ever taking me.

I felt trapped, doomed never to find work again. I thought I might as well get away from it all. I thought I'd go back out to work in nature, like I'd done before I'd gotten my office job.

I floated upward, maybe twenty feet in the air. Once I reached that height, my old friend R, who was out walking his dog, caught sight of me. I didn't want anything to do with R, and I tried to float away before he tried to contact me.

But R played some kind of sneaky trick. He called his dog to run out across a wide lawn that spanned off to the left of the path I'd been traveling along. (R and his dog had approached this area from the right side of the path.) My goal had been, and still was, to fly out along the left field.

I knew R would call his dog out to follow me through the field. Then, regardless of where I went, R could go there, too, forcibly contacting me and justifying it by saying that this, after all, was where his dog had spontaneously chosen to go, and that R had had no choice but to follow his dog.

I decided to throw R's dog off my trail. I don't know how I did it. The ground below me was deep with snow. It spanned far to the horizon. I caused R's dog to veer far to the left. For some reason, I then began following the dog, hoping to cause the dog to veer farther and farther off course.

But soon the dog sped so far ahead of me that I was panicking to catch up with it, in hopes of throwing it irretrievably off course. I was also hoping, in all of this chase, to speed (still flying) so far ahead of R that he'd have no ability to catch up with me before my plan was complete.

But now I looked and saw R behind me, only a hundred or so yards away, even after all my efforts. R was slowly, but confidently and ruthlessly, plodding through the snow.

I flew through a "suburban neighborhood" (it looked completely deserted, with snow drifts filling the streets and even the houses). I was still calling after R's dog, who still charged along through an open, vast field in the distance.

I flew through a snowy backyard, under the (leafy?) canopy of a low tree, and through the sliding-glass back door of a house. I quickly flew through the house, which was dim, with only natural light coming through the windows, and which had snow drifts piled halfway up to the ceiling.

I flew through a paneless front window and into a front yard. The front yard felt extremely small, surrounded by small trees, with snow drifts up almost to the top of the (chest-high?) chain-link fence. The sunlight reflected golden off the snow.

I looked behind me. R was still following. He was now coming through the back of the house.

I couldn't fly anymore. I was trudging frantically through the snow, trying to get over the fence. Once I was past the fence, I felt, I would have a little bit more security and a little better chance of avoiding R. But for some reason it was extremely difficult to straddle and jump the fence. My heart and muscles were straining.

I was shouting at R's dog, trying to throw her as far off course as possible, but also pleading, like I was trying with all my heart to trick R into thinking that his dog was my friend.

R was now in the front yard. He grabbed one of my feet and tried to pull me back into the yard. I tried desperately to shake him off and jump the fence.

(5/27/09) a surprising reflection; science fiction romance; tragic urusei yatsura; remembering dream

(Entered in paper journal at 8:45 AM at Starbucks at 29th Street and Park Avenue in Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I stood in a room that had dark, wood walls and was lit with dim, incandescent light. I stood before a mirror and saw "reflected" a thin, wiry, Asian looking man, possibly wearing a tan-brown, vest-like robe. The man looked almost serene, but extremely mean. I gasped when I saw that this was actually my own reflection. But it wasn't quite my reflection, as I was I, and my reflection was this man.

When I gasped, my reflection said, "What? Why are you so surprised? Didn't you call for me?"

Dream #2

I was in a living room with a few other people. The living room was wide, pale, sparsely furnished, and cheap-feeling.

My old friend R was somewhere. He had annoyed me in some way. Now he was sitting, self-satisfied, in a chair across the room. There was a plain table a few feet away from the chair. R may have fallen asleep in the chair. He may have been holding a science fiction novel on his lap. I thought I would do something mean to R while he was asleep to pay him back for how he had annoyed me.

I approached the chair. The chair was tall-backed, cushioned thinly, upholstered with slightly worn, blue velvet. The chair had thin, wooden legs and looked cold and uncomfortable in the raspy blue light that came into the room.

I sat down in the chair, as if R had stood out of it. I now saw R walking back toward the chair, as if he'd been led out of the room but was now returning. I wasn't going to let R have the chair. I would fight for it.

But now I felt bad for having been mean to R. Perhaps, after all, he didn't deserve it. But I also felt afraid. Maybe if I acted mean to R, R would make me pay for it later on. Maybe, I thought, I should just go ahead and make up with R.

Now an older woman stood near us. The woman was tall, thin, and pale, with blonde, well-styled hair. The woman was Southern. She wore a white turtleneck sweater, a beige jacket, and dress slacks. I may have thought of this woman as something like R's mother.

To make up with either the woman or with R I asked some question about the science fiction novel, which now appeared to be full of color plates showing the artwork of some man from the 1950s. The woman explained to me, as if in answer to the question, that the man had been something like an advertising artist, mainly.

I looked at the plates, which did, in fact, show painty scenes in garish colors of tough, shirtless, well-groomed businessmen and scantily clad women, pale-skinned, coiffured, in slips or negligees, laying across beds and perhaps laughing. These plates looked more like romance novel covers than science fiction illustrations.

I rose from the chair and walked to the table. There may have been something like a deck of tarot cards on the table. R and I may have stood by the table and talked, as if I were making up with R.

Dream #3

I saw a room like my great grandmother's dining room. Lum and Ataru, from the anime series Urusei Yatsura, stood at the head of the table. Lum was wearing her schoolgirl outfit, as opposed to her tiger-striped bikini outfit. Lum and Ataru held rocks that were dark grey and porous, like basalt, or possibly like moon rocks.

Either Lum or Ataru had somehow discarded or destroyed one of the rocks. Immediately, Lum began to disappear, from the feet up. She was disappearing very quickly, almost too quickly even to say anything. As Lum's chest disappeared, it was revealed that Lum's heart was itself one of the porous, grey rocks. Thus destroying a rock would destroy Lum. (???)

Lum knew she was doomed. She said "gomennasai." Then she was gone.

Ataru cried out, "Lum!"

It all seemed so strange to me. The TV show, or movie, wasn't over yet. There was a lot to go. But Lum was now gone. How could the show go on without Lum?

Dream #4

I walked along some path, possibly an asphalt path in a park, with a few women. It was early morning. The park may have been a vast field of cut grass, with one single, small tree to our right.

I had been trying to remember some of the dreams I'd had earlier in the night. (I had probably fallen asleep rehearsing my night's dreams and faded right into this dream.) I must have been talking out the dreams with the women.

One of the women, to my left, told me something like not to worry about it, that it sounded like I was remembering things just fine. (I may have been speaking with the woman about some dream before the "reflection" dream, which had a similar "split personality" theme and which involved Zeus. This "remembered" dream seemed to have been shrouded completely in blackness.)

As the woman spoke, she passed ahead of me and joined the other women. The woman was maybe in her late thirties. She was a little overweight, heavy-legged, and she wore a runner's outfit: black, spandex pants, possibly a pink shirt, black sunglasses, and a beige cap. She held two cups of coffee, possibly both in one hand, stacked one on top of the other.

As the women passed under the lone tree I thought how nice it was to have a group of supportive women to help me through things. But I also looked at the woman's rear end and noticed how it was getting flabby, how she had "saddlebags" kind of pointing out from the sides of her legs, and how disappointing that was.

(5/28/09) for and against my defenders

(Entered in paper journal at 8:01 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

It was a grey day. I was out on a lawny field that was bordered by a thick stand of old, wide-canopied trees, like a mix between a lawn in a suburban park and a lawn before a European mansion. There were a lot of people out on the field, loosely gathered as if for an ordered, festive ceremony. A group of older men, gruff looking, wide bodied, clean, but worn, sat at a table. The men were like a committee.

A group of younger men stood before the older men in some kind of ordered file. The older men made a judgment against one young man, probably me. The young man/I was a part of the group, but the young man/I wasn't actually standing with the group. The young men, all upset that the older men had passed judgment against me, came up with a plan against the older men.

The younger men, including me, were to give a display of arms before the older men later on. We all stood out on the field, before the table, at which the judges were not siting (having gone away for other events?). There may have been other groups among us, like people having picnics, etc. The young men went through a few moves with rifles.

Our plan against the older men was that at some point in our moves we would all turn our rifles upon the judges and shoot them. I thought this wasn't a proper thing to do. I tried to think of a way to get out of having to do it.

I was doing something with my rifle, and then with my bullets. I had taken an end off two of my bullets. Inside the cylinder of the bullets was dry, shaved material like little wood shavings or some kind of spice or tobacco. I figured I'd empty out the contents of these bullets altogether, so they'd be useless.

But then I figured even this would be no good. I couldn't be seen among the men as they shot the judges. I thought there had to be some way to stop the men from carrying out their plan. But I couldn't think of any way to do it.

I ended up asking one of the men near me about the trouble with my bullets, the ones with the open ends. I asked the man as if I were relatively inexperienced and he was something like a leader. The man may have been taller than I by far, as if I were now just a child. The man may have been wearing something like a British soldier's uniform and white wig, like from the eighteenth century.