(11/3/06) pretty girl steals toilet paper; message on the bomb; the hill of life in the land of death

(Entered in dream journal at 7:19 AM at Starbucks at Borough Hall.)

Dream 1

I went into my bedroom in a somewhat big but dirty house. I had moved in with my landlady and a bunch of other people. They had stuck me in a gross room. I tried to make the most of it. I went to my bed to get some rest.

A window was at the head of my bed. I pulled aside a sheet-like curtain to see the "window" was a big hole in the wall covered by a screen hung loosely over it like a big curtain. There might have been a sectioning of the screen in the top center.

The breeze would blow the screen in and out. I knew anybody could get into my room. I felt cheated -- to be in such a dirty room that anybody could get into.

I saw a young woman walking down a path to the front door. She had walked into the house and was now in my room. She opened my closet and pulled out six rolls of toilet paper. As she did this I tried to muster up the courage to tell her she shouldn't take our toilet paper if she didn't live here. She was very pretty, with soft, brown skin and brown hair and pretty brown eyes. She looked at me like her prettiness allowed her to do anything.

Dream 2

I looked up into the murky blue sky to see a fighter jet I thought as a Joint Strike Fighter jet. But the more I looked at it the more I saw the jet had a clunky triangular shape. It seemed to be partly cloaked in shade, with only an edge shining white in the sun --- I don't know how, because there were no or few clouds in the sky, and the jet seemed to be facing the sun directly.

I saw something which I at first thought was another jet just showing up. But I realized it was really a missile sent out by the jet. I watched it travel a while. It was now a nuclear bomb. I didn't want to believe the bomb was finally being dropped -- I was going to die before I had taken care of all my business. I thought, Well, at least hopefully I'm in another country so it won't be dropping in America.

To make sure, I flew up to the bomb as it dropped. From down below the bomb looked black. From above (just above, traveling down with it) it was yellow with red fins (?). I saw it from behind.

The colors made me think the bomb was being dropped by China and that this definitely was America. There was a message written on the back of the bomb -- something like, "I don't care where you came from or which way you go."

Dream 3

Part of some altar ritual on a hill -- one person began singing about the hill of life in the land of death.

(4/14/08) jets and highway murder

(Entered in paper journal at 5:30 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was watching a television show about jets. Then it was like I was actually in a plane, looking down on the jets as the narrator discussed them. My brother was with me. I pointed out each jet to him.

We would gain altitude to reach each new grouping of jets. I was afraid of gaining so much altitude, but I didn't show it, and I was happy to see the jets up so close.

I pointed out one of my favorites to my brother, one called the Skylab. It had three wings in a triangular configuration and a sloping nose. There was another large plane that flew alongside it. After that was a "scout plane" with a disc-like or flying-saucer-like front end. My brother didn't seem to be interested in any of these jets.

I had seen this whole progression of jets before, on television, and I knew there would be a last jet to follow, which would head straight up into the sky. I hoped we would follow this jet soon.

But now my brother and I were in a car on a highway, in a shallow recess between two slopes. As we approached a bridge that passed over the road we were on, I looked out my side of the car (the right side?) and saw a little, Hispanic boy (or girl?). We must have been driving at normal speed. But now it seemed like we were driving at a walking pace. The little, Hispanic child had been killed. His arms and legs were taped together. Beside the child were various cultic objects, like candles.

I wanted to get out of the car to tend to the dead child, but I thought it wouldn't be smart. The people who had killed the child might still be around. This might be a trap.

As we passed under the bridge I saw the rest of the family lying in the dirt. They all were also all dead and taped up. There also seemed to be a table and food, all overturned, like this had been the family's house. The mother's eyes were open, and it was like she was looking at me. I thought, I've never seen a dead body before.

I might have been driving the car. I told my brother to call 911. I gave my brother my cell phone. We had called 911 and gotten to a turnoff from the highway into a part of a turn like an industrial park.

I now thought I needed to head back to where we had come from. Somebody was supposed to arrive here after us, but I wanted to get to them and warn them that the might have trouble doing so.

But when I tried to get back onto the highway, a female police officer stopped me. The highway had been closed, the officer explained, while the murder of the Hispanic family was being investigated.

(12/30/08) the lion dance; roach apartment; elephant alien

(Entered in paper journal at 7:15 AM, on B-train from Brooklyn into Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I walked down into a stairway into a basement. The basement may have had red walls and may have been lit with incandescent light. Before me at the foot of the stairs was a weird feature like a bottomless pit. The pit was rectangular and was bounded on three sides by "mattresses." The fourth side (the long side opposite me) was the wall. Set into the wall was a square in which sat some kind of shrine, including (?) a clear, rounded vase full of colorful flowers with rose-like petals.

I leaned my elbows atop the long side's barrier and stood watching, as if I were watching a pendulum swing. I thought of a legend of a man (maybe Asian) who had practiced a certain dance. But before the dance it was generally customary for the person dancing to give thanks to a god who excelled at the dance.

This man was a great dancer and did not think he needed to give thanks to the god. So the god came down to earth and challenged the man to the dance. But the god's dance soon became an attack, and the man was either frightened out of the challenge or killed.

I thought that I should give thanks to the god before I began the dance.

I stood in a different part of the basement now, not far from where I was before. The room L'd off to become narrower, and in the narrow space stood a bunk bed. I was right at the corner of the "L."

On the wall to my left, opposite the bunk beds, and on the same wall as the bottomless pit shrine, was another shrine in a square setting. Before me and just to my right, in the corner of the wall, was a "closet space." The closet was made of cheap wood. The shelves were full of all kinds of clothing, but on the top shelf was a TV. Just to my right may have been a doorway into a concrete-floored room like a laundry or storage room. Sunlight may have shone through a window in the storage room.

My propitiation to the god was to play some kind of video on the TV -- something like an anime adventure with a sexy girl swinging around and fighting people. My mom yelled down the stairs to me to shut that show off -- she could hear it all the way upstairs. I shut the show off, like I was clicking off one program on a computer.

There was another show playing "below" this program. This show was like a live-action porno or torture show, shot crudely in a green-walled room. I may have been ashamed that I had been watching this show, and I may have shut it off as well.

My mom told me something about putting some sort of laundry in the wash. I couldn't believe I was back in a situation where my mom was controlling my life like this. I walked out of a room like the the laundry room. I now stood in some room like a common room at a homeless shelter.

There were some boys, black and Hispanic, sitting on the floor, on chairs, and on taller items like ladders. Two white men, dressed nicely and looking like men from the 1950s, had been giving some kind of positive lecture to the boys, who had just entered the shelter.

One of the men left, out a door to my left, possibly because he was going to get something useful for the boys. He might also have made a comment on exiting that he thought the chances were small that he and his colleague could help the boys think positively about this place.

I looked at the windows to this place. It was night. The windows were dark. The windows were about five feet tall and three feet wide, grid-paned, maybe three panes across and four panes tall. The remaining man was continuing his speech to the boys.

I saw how words had been written on the windows, like finger markings in condensation. The statements were positive. I now watched the condensation and markings change color. According to the mood of the statement, the pane on which the statement was written would change to a bright color while the words would change to another bright color. The colors were like shimmery acrylic paint.

I had the idea that the boys had written the statements on the window and that they had colored them. This was part of an art project. Once it was complete, it was thought, the mood produced by the windows would be so positive that the boys would love to live here.

But the boys had lost their inspiration.

The other man may now have been gone as well. Some of the boys were planning an escape. But nobody, even the really violent and rebellious ones, were sure if they would be doing the right thing.

I hadn't really been in the scene, and maybe I still wasn't. But I was knelt on the floor. A big, black boy sitting on a tall stool looked down, at me, I thought, and said, "What do you think, little girl? Should we stay or should we go?"

I now realized the boy had been speaking to a small, Hispanic boy sitting in a chair before me and just to my left. The boy had a bowl-shaped haircut and wore small, round-rimmed glasses and a big, puffy, navy blue jacket. I knew this boy was smart and sensitive, and was recognized for being so, but was always made fun of (like being called a girl) for being so obedient.

I was now being held, romantically, on one of the boy's laps. We were in front of all the boys, in the open space of the common room. The boy whose lap I sat on was black, masculine, but pretty looking. He asked me, "Don't you like this?" My head was tilted backwards. The boy was bringing down three fingers to touch my head.

I thought, I don't like this. I shouldn't be attracted to this boy. But I am.

Suddenly I was all alone. I sat on the floor in a room like the common room. It was dark, with a spotlight or spotlights shining on the floor. The carpet was hard and grey. The room had a classy feel, like in a museum.

Before me was a shrine -- also a clear vase full of flowers, maybe including orchids with white edges that faded into deep-pink centers -- which was spotlighted. There was ornamentation around the shrine, including strewn flower petals and two lion statuettes, one on each side of the shrine. The statuettes may have been green and made of wax.

The statuette to my right may have turned into a real lion. It jumped to attack me. I became horribly afraid. The lion again became the green statuette (i.e. maybe one foot long), but was still attacking me. I knew this fight was nothing but a performance, although if I lost, I would actually die.

The green lion and I wrestled. I threw it off me at one point. It flew down a small set of stairs (three or four steps, in a semicircle, like in the minerals and gems section of the American Museum of Natural History). I may have crawled or slid to the steps. The lion pounced again from the bottom of the steps. I grabbed it and flung myself backwards, to hit the lion's head against the floor.

I was now sitting up. I heard a woman's voice somewhere, maybe in my head, talking about an actress like Sarah Jessica Parker. The voice was talking about how reckless the actress was in public life and how sh'ed eventually just become annoying.

Beside me was a weird, boxlike device which may have held an opium pipe. I was smoking something. Along a ridge of the box-device were scattered tiger's-eye-colored shards, which I knew were the legs of a spider which had been killed.

The voice continued, explaining that in the profession the actress was in (it may have been acting or equity research), there was no need to be such a prima donna. After all, there wasn't as much pressure as say, that involved in rocket science.

I stood up and walked down the steps. I thought to myself, I should actually look into rocket science. I've been wanting to design rockets for a long time now.

I walked into the deep blackness beyond the spotlights. I pushed open a heavyish, metal door with a circle window in the top, like a door in a restaurant or hospital.

I walked into a fluorescent-lit room. Before me stood a group of men, mostly black. I felt like they were looking at me as if they wanted to bully me. I walked away to the left. I heard some people talking somewhere. I thought they were talking about me.

I walked up a long stairway with white, close walls and grey carpeting. I now thought I heard people laughing at me. I tried hard to hear the conversation, to see if it was about me.

At times I felt like I was drifting up the stairwell, as if on an escalator. Along the walls, on my left side, were occasional windows, behind which teams of doctors sat, usually two doctors per team, the doctors mainly being black. The doctors were usually laughing.

I heard the conversation better. It was like a senior co-worker of mine, and the guy who acted as a liaison between the research and sales departments at my company, JB, was talking to one of the doctors as part of a radio interview. JB was speaking, in his usual mellow voice, about the economy.

I reached the top of the stairwell. I walked through one metal door into a tiny "foyer," then out onto a sidewalk through another metal door.

The sky was fully clouded over, but it was colored dim blue, like the color of early morning. There was an orange streetlamp overhead. The ground was wet, as if it had just rained. The wall of the building was white-painted concrete. It felt like I was coming out of the side exit of a movie theater or playhouse.

I held the door open still because I thought I wouldn't be able to hear JB's talk if I shut the door. But then I realized there was a speaker right above me, playing JB's speech. I let the door shut as I heard JB say conditions hadn't been this tough since 1912 or 1913.

Dream #2

I was in a dim bedroom that was lit only by natural light coming from some other room at the end of a long hallway. I was with a group of friends.

One of my friends, maybe my girlfriend H, saw a roach crawl across the wall. She panicked. I was ashamed, but also upset, that roaches were back in my house again, after I'd gotten rid of them. They'd been gone for so long.

But now I looked out into the hallway. It seemed justified for roaches to be here: the floor of the hallway was so dirty it looked like a wet asphalt road.

Dream #3

I lay on "my bed." The head of my bed was positioned so I could turn left to see down the hallway. There were a couple rooms along the right wall and one room at the very end of the hallway. The doors for all the rooms may have been opened. Fluorescent light was coming out of some (?) of the rooms.

I saw two rats run into one of the lit rooms on the side wall. I was so upset to see rats in my house that I called out, "No... no... no!"

I thought I would have to get up right away and kill the rats. But now I saw, as if I were a camera (and all the lights were now off -- only the streetlights from outside providing light), how there was some strange activity happening in my closet. The rats changed (first into mice, then into lions?). I thought, I can't kill an animal that big. Then I saw the head of an elephant emerge from the closet.

I was back in my bed. I thought, It couldn't possibly be an elephant. I thought it would be terrifyingly irrational. But out of the closet walked a roughly six-foot-tall creature, walking upright on two legs, having the body shape of a human (thought the creature was naked and had the skin of an elephant) and an elephant's head, which was huge in proportion to the body. The elephant may have had black eyes like the eyes of a classic grey alien's eyes, except round, not almond-shaped.

The elephant man walked toward me. I thought, It can't come near me. It would be too frightening. But it walked all the way to my bedside. It stood at my left (?) side, as if my bed were now in its regular place. Its breathing seemed very fleshy and real. I was so frightened that I began whimper/screaming. (In fact, I may actually have been crying out loud, the sound of which may have woken me from the dream.)

(2/6/09) dying customer; storm at the panty shop; you aren't funny; lesbians and rituals; breaking to pieces; swarm of bees

(Entered in paper journal at 9:45 AM at Starbucks on Twenty-ninth Street and Park Avenue.)

Dream #1

A television show with a group of people, possibly teenagers, like a cartoon, except possibly live action. The kids had been drawn to a place that looked like a beach-view balcony deck on a sunny day. I may now have been in the group of teenagers. We stood before a glass double door, the doors (or one door?) of which were swung inwardly open.

A little person or creature had lured us this far. I now felt like he had tricked us into coming here so his master could do something to us. The little creature walked halfway into the left side of the threshold, pushing the door even more open.

The boy leader of the group of teenagers (maybe I was the leader) was now to follow the creature. The creature magically shrank the boy. I could see the boy's (my?) shadow on the ground. As the boy shrank, the shadow stayed the same size.

The creature had the boy floating in the air. He levitated the boy over to a chair inside the room. The room was slightly dim, as if all the curtains were closed but there were still plenty of natural light coming into the room.

The chair at first had thin, wooden legs and green, plush cushioning for the seat and back. But for a moment the whole scene became a cartoon. At this point (and possibly even when the scene changed back into live action) the chair was wooden, like the chair for a school desk. The room, which had previously been like a room in a resort, was now more like a mix between that room and some kind of mountain-roadside grocery store.

The creature had told the shrunken boy that he would find shoes for the boy. The shoes would, of course, be enormous to the boy, who was now perhaps an inch tall at most. Nevertheless, the boy would have to pay for the shoes. This itself was some kind of torture for the boy.

Behind the chair was a wall of grid-like shelves or cubby-holes, with shoes in every cubby-hole. To the left of the chair was the cashier's counter, which also somehow looked like a concierge's counter. A rough-looking man, perhaps a little stout, Hispanic looking, with a dark blue winter jacket and a wool cap, stood behind the desk. Behind him may have been wooden shelves stacked with old-looking canned and boxed food.

Another man leaned on the right side of the counter. Before him were two open boxes of shoes. A man stood across from him. Both men were rough-looking, both wearing winter clothes. The man on the left was huge, at least a head taller than the other two men, and pretty heavy. The man on the right was also big, though not as big. He looked a little tougher and more cunning. He wore a black, leather jacket, a little big on him. The man on the left wore a slightly padded black jacket with a grey, hooded sweatshirt underneath.

The man on the left was a customer. The man on the right was the boss of the store. The boss was trying to rip off the customer. I could see the shoes (in the right box?) he was trying to sell the customer. The shoes were too small. At first they were like dark brown leather loafers, the kind with the chunky seams and cords of leather binding the seams around the toes. But then the shoes became wood. They looked like clogs.

The customer said, "I don't want these. These aren't what I asked for at all."

The boss sneered, "What do I care? What do you want me to do about it?" I could now tell the boss was some kind of crime boss.

The customer said, "You can give me my money back!"

I knew the situation was going to get dangerous. The boss said, "I'm not gonna do that."

The customer said, "Alright. Have it your way, then."

The customer reached into his left pocket. He was about to pull out a gun. But with lightning speed the boss pulled a gun from his right pocket and fired a few shots into the customer's gut. For a moment I could see the customer's font as if his skin were transparent. I could see the customer's torn intestines.

The customer was dazed, as if shock had already caused him to forget he'd just been shot. He stood like a robot as the boss said, "Now what are you gonna do? Come back tomorrow and give me trouble?"

The customer said, "I just might."

The customer turned and walked out the exit (which was another double-door of glass to the left, with the doors open). Outside was a grey stone courtyard, in bright grey light as if it were a cloudy day.

The customer got a few steps outside and then fell over, to a hunched or kneeling position. Blood had just now begun to gush out from his abdomen. The customer might also have started throwing up blood. The customer was now in a position like a "weak man's push-up," i.e. on all fours, with the legs together and arms out about shoulder-width, but with the body bent in the middle so that the man's bottom was poking up in the air.

The customer's abdomen would plop out a bloody mass, then hold off and then plop again.

The customer called to the boss, "Hey, XXXXX, I don't think I'll becoming back next week or next month or even next year. In fact, I don't think I'll ever be coming here again!" He was saying this as if the boss were his friend, a superior friend, like the boss of a crime gang in which both men had been involved. It was also like the customer had just realized he was dying and he was now imploring the only nearby person who knew him at all to give him sympathy as he was dying.

The boss just looked on as if the customer's whole situation was just silly and pathetic.

Dream #2

I walked into a discount clothing store. The store may have been set up into tiered or stair-stepping levels, going higher and higher farther back into the store. I had come in here to find some sexy panties at a cheap price. The store was full of wife-like women in their thirties or forties. They were mostly overweight. Some were Hispanic, some were white. I was relieved that I didn't see anybody I knew or any rough-looking men who might make fun of me for being a man and shopping for panties.

I went a few rows back. I saw a few different displays of lingerie. Some looked either too small or strappy in the crotch for me to fit into. Other stuff looked too boring or to large.

I found a few racks or displays of stuff that looked like it might be really nice. But I would see it too late each time, as I passed it. I would try to turn around and go back to it, but the aisles would either be blocked by people standing fully in the middle of the aisles or charging forward so aggressively that I was afraid to move against them; or else I wouldn't want to catch the eye of a remotely pretty woman or someone who might even possibly know me.

Eventually I thought I saw a way to charge straight back to all the places I missed. I walked quickly and aggressively through a tangle of women, carts, even half-broken or skewed-over racks of clothing. I didn't care who I rushed through.

But I eventually just rushed down a ramp and into a line for the cashier. I wasn't in line. I stood just to the side. But I stood waiting as if I were standing in line. The front of the line was a huge mess of people and carts and cluttered merchandise.

Most of the people in line were women, but there was at least one man: a skinny, scrappy, chicken-shit-looking black-Hispanic boy dressed as a worker in a blue polo shirt and tan khakis, like a Best Buy worker might wear.

This guy was flirting with one of the women. I felt like this guy was standing around right here because he wanted to make sure that I wasn't flirting with any of these women and that he was. But I didn't want any of these women -- they all looked like worn-out housewives.

I wanted to get out the door and away from this guy. But now I saw that outside it was starting to rain. The rain got harder and harder very quickly. Now it was storming riotously. The sky was dark grey, and the pounding of the rain against the windows was deafening.

A young, black woman, a little overweight and plain-looking, with darkish orange hair, and also wearing an outfit like that of a Best Buy employee, held me back, pushing me into a huge crowd of fat mothers, from the front of which I'd just emerged.

The girl told me, "You can't go outside. The news just said the weather is a disaster situation. Everybody has to stay inside wherever they are, and the workers have to make sure that everybody stays put." The woman said all of this to me with motherly concern, as if I were a cute boy she felt she had to take care of.

The weather got worse and worse. The girl assured me that everything would be okay, that the storm was getting to its most intense point, and that it would then stop immediately, and that everybody would be alright.

Now the building itself was rocking, as if there was an earthquake. I might have closed my eyes in terror. Suddenly everything was swept away. It was like the building and all the people had been ripped upward by a cyclone. For a moment I stood in the whirling rain. Then all the grey was like a calm, impenetrable fog. Suddenly all was dark.

I saw a house, or a cartoon image of a house, with a red walkway leading up to it. I might also have seen myself as a cartoon, with the house behind me, a small image behind me, with everything else being a black background.

Dream #3

I stood in a place like a bathroom. The room was nice, and it had some of the length and narrowness of a hallway, which I may have thought it was. The walls and floors had a color and shine like finished wood.

I walked past a woman to my left. The woman was short, overweight, white, with shoulder-length black hair and black-rimmed glasses (like a woman I'd occasionally spoken with at Connecticut Muffin in Windsor Terrace, a young teacher who lived in Brooklyn but taught way up in upper Manhattan).

The woman sat on a low seat and had her legs up, possibly on a footstool or a wicker box. Before her was a sink. But the sink (it seems now) was so close to the woman's seat that the woman couldn't possibly have stretched out her legs the way she was stretching them.

I handed the woman a stack of pages (typewritten?). I also told her about ideas I was having, as if they were the ideas on the pages, i.e. as if I hadn't yet typed the pages. The woman said, "Those are really good ideas! You and I should work together. We could even get a show on the community television channel! I think you and I would work together really well."

I sheepishly said, "Yeah, that sounds cool!" But I really didn't want to do anything like that at all.

The woman said, "If I had a little boost from your enthusiasm, I'm sure I could really show what a creative and hilarious person I am."

I said, "Yeah, that sounds true." But in my head I thought, You really aren't funny at all.

Dream #4

I was walking on a park or greenbelt path in the sun. It was a nice, warm day. I may have come from some office building. I may also have been carrying a stack of papers in my hand. Oddly, in spite of the heat, I may have been wearing a long, grey, tweed trench coat.

I may have felt a slight twinge of embarrassment from the social situation I had just come from, as if I had pitched a creative idea which was thought o as impractical or eccentric, so that I'd even had to laugh at myself.

But somehow, most of the embarrassment, which had been kind of goodhearted, anyhow, melted away in the beauty of the day. There were tons of people all laying out sunbathing on the strip of lawn, which sloped up, on my left, gently to the street level. To my right may have been a river. I felt happy to see all these people as I walked along. Many of the people were beautiful. The light was at times dim and golden like winter afternoon light and at other times bright and colorful like an unseasonably warm spring day.

A couple of beautiful women caught my eye. The two girls were spooning with each other. The girl in back also had her hand on the front girl's bottom. This turned me on.

The two girls may possibly have been half-covered by a brown blanket. They were both blonde and tan and they both wore two-piece swimsuits. The girl in back wore a neon pink, full-bottomed two-piece. The girl in front wore a thin, white bikini with pink decorations on it like you might see on a pretty pair of cotton panties. The bottom of the girl in back really turned me on.

But the girl in back turned her head and saw that I was looking at her and her girlfriend. She may have covered herself and her girlfriend up even more with the blanket, although I feel like what she actually did was take the blanket off altogether, exposing herself and her girlfriend to me altogether, as if to make the point obvious that the two girls were together and happy and that they didn't care at all about me, even if I was looking at them. I felt as if I had been tricked, as if the girls had half-exposed themselves to turn me on, only to fully expose themselves and jilt me, getting pleasure out of being wanted but unattainable.

I looked out at the rest of the people, half out of wanting to show the girl how quickly I could put her and her girlfriend out of my mind, and half out of sheepish shame, like feeling sorry that somebody -- anybody -- had felt their privacy invaded by my having looked on at them for too long.

I was suddenly annoyed by the crowd of people, possibly as if I realized that I couldn't find a place to lay down here, and that even if I did, I'd still have to contend with all the people who were elbow-close with me.  I sped up my walk. Now there were also people walking along the path. I had to doge all of them. Suddenly I came to a walkway that went down a steep slope.

I had just now been thinking to myself about a group of people who had come here from across the seas to perform some kind of religious ritual. I thought, Perhaps there are so many people out here because they all want to see the ritual. But then I realized that the ritual had been over for at least a day. I thought, It's possible the people have gotten back on their ships to go home.

The path I was on was very steep. It was made of asphalt. It worked it was way around the bend of a grey rock face.

I was now descending a grass slope. I had to get onto a thin, dirt path, as if I were on the edge of something, and if I didn't get onto the dirt path with jet-like precision, I'd fall off the edge. I was suddenly giddy with a fear of heights and worry over my aim.

Down below, in a valley, were a thin group of people who looked like Indians or Native Americans. They were running form the shore, planting flag-like stakes of gnarled branches (with bright rectangles of fabric at their tops) into the ground, then running back to the shore.

I thought, Well, they still have more ritual to perform, even though the official ritual is over. But people must only care about the official ritual. The rest isn't famous enough for them to want to be a part of it.

I now came to a tan and orange stone, maybe sandstone, land feature that was like the entrance to the cave, but that also looked like a Utah-style stone arch. It was like this land feature appeared out of nowhere -- my view below had been unobstructed before. It seemed like the land feature was just a shallow tunnel, which would be pretty easy to get through and rather beautiful to look at. Plus, I thought, with this thing blocking out all the scenery, I won't be as afraid of the steepness and height of this path (which was asphalt again).

But as I approached the mouth of the cave, a tiny, black, bee-like insect flew out. I knew the little bee's sting could be rather irksome, but I thought the insect was such a cute, little creature. I turned backwards to look at it.

Behind me were natural walls, all of this tan and orange stone, thought which the path I was on snaked upward. The bee hovered in a pool of sunlight. I greeted the bee and said a few kind, happy words to it. Then I turned forward again.

Now the tunnel was very shallow, a few feet only, like the turning of a corner. I could even see the people in the valley again. But now the dirt path was either unseen or in a different place than I had previously been aiming for. I may have thought to myself how I had screwed up by having turned around instead of continuing forward when the bee had come out of the cave.

Dream #5

A vision of the walls of a library (the "New York Public Library"). The walls were a porous white stone, like the sidewalks and walls of the Grace building. They broke into vertical panels, which clattered more and more apart form each other. As they did this, I saw an old, skinny, wise-looking man beside me (and looking down to me) talking to me. But the sound was muffled and tinny, like my perceptions were blurring or dissolving. Somewhere else there was a solid wood wall, which was also breaking into pieces.

Dream #6

A swarm of tiny, tight, dull yellow and black-grey bees stopped me from walking around a curve (and to the right) of a tiny path in a little, green-lawned park. Somewhere near me may have been a group of my friends, who may have laughed at me for being afraid and stopping at the swarm of bees.