(Entered in paper journal at 5:50 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I lay on a couch in the dark. I was covered in blankets. I spoke on the phone with someone who asked if I could cover the phones for the Analyst MH as well, since he would be out. I saw his extension, 3431 or 2431, in my had. The person said, "MH got sick at a really bad time. When he gets back in, we'll have to have a disciplinary discussion with him.
My boss BS and another Analyst, SM, stood at my feet, on my left, i.e. facing the couch. They walked around to my right and then up past my head. They pulled open some blinds and let in a lot of daylight.
Dream #2
I was in the office, which was different from waking life. The entire floor was only half-lit. There were two aisles of cubicles that went in long rows of six or seven cubicles. Beside that were probably more aisles of cubicles. At the end of the aisles was a little bit of empty floor space and then a brightly lit, tiny elevator bank. My cubicle was at the front right corner, facing the elevator bank.
I turned my computer on. Then I remembered I had an appointment with my psychiatrist A this morning. I told my boss BS, "I know it's spur of the moment notice, but can I leave?"
BS' face turned kind of weak and muttery. BS said, "Well, yeah, go..."
I said, "It's on the spur of the moment, I know. So said no if I can't go."
BS said, "No. I'd rather you didn't go. I'm gonna need you here today."
BS walked away as I said okay.
I spoke with a couple people and then went back to my desk. I had vines like grapevines growing over my desk. My computer was a laptop. It was only about halfway open. I saw Hotmail up on my screen. I couldn't figure why that would be there: employees weren't allowed to use personal email accounts, like Hotmail, in the office.
I tried to shut the Hotmail off. BS walked by and asked what was wrong. I said, "Somehow Hotmail came up on my screen."
Dream #3
I sat in a brightly lit basement. It was a radio station. I was going to be interviewed as a part of my job. At present some outside correspondent was doing something like a traffic report. In the station, we may have seen the man or the stuff he was talking about on a TV screen. The view was of a straight road in a green field on a grey day.
I thought, Am I going to be late doing this interview? It was as if, on some level of reality, I wasn't really in the studio yet.
Dream #4
I stood before the counter at an airport. The counter and room looked more like an old, cozy hotel. A tall, gaunt, white, bald man with a grey mustache and heavy eyebrows stood behind the counter. The man said, "I don't recognize you. Do you have ID?"
I showed the man my ID and said, "You can ask people if you like. I come here all the time. All I'm trying to do is see if I'm late for my flight. I was scheduled to leave at 12:20 PM. And now it's --" (I craned my neck forward to look around at the man's computer screen) "-- 1:02 PM?! Oh, no!"
I started crying. I said, "I missed my flight! Is there any way I can get a ticket for a different flight?"
Two or three people, maybe two guys and a girl, roughly twenty-five years old, walked around the old man cheerfully. They spoke happily about my problem and how it could probably be fixed. They walked away. The old man started wandering off.
I asked, "Aren't you going to see about getting me a new flight?"
The man said, "We have other things to do. We'll get to you." He left.
The young men and woman were now bringing out plates of food from a bar and grill that was off to my left. One of the plates was big chunks of meat covered in sauce that looked like ranch dressing.
Dream #5
Black and white, grainy view like old film footage. A narrator spoke about the first space flight, which had been made by the Russians.
I watched a "space shuttle" launch, then travel parallel with the ground, maybe only a couple hundred feet above the ground. The "shuttle" looked like a sci-fi spacecraft, or a child's drawing. It was like two cylinders in the back which ended in rockets and which joined in the front to one cylinder which pointed at the front.
The craft began lifting as it flew over the ocean. It lifted so slowly I at first thought that it was getting ready to lose control and crash. The view was momentarily from behind it as it rose above a patchy plane of clouds. I knew now that the craft wouldn't crash. But watching it rise (view from in front of the craft, looking back at it) so slowly, at such a gentle angle, I doubted the craft could ever actually leave the earth.
The craft slowly increased its angle and speed. I now wondered if the view was going to catch the craft traveling so quickly and steeply. I didn't think the view would actually be able to travel with the craft.
Dream #6
I was in a bedroom (?) with a few people of different ages (probably up to my age). Everybody was in a slighty frenzy, not angry, just unsettled. They were all talking about the new Harry Potter book. At the same time they were passing around the previous Harry Potter books. The covers of these books looked weird, like cheap second editions -- or rather like the old sensational film posters (i.e. L'enfant de Paris) that were (at the time I entered this dream in the paper journal) on display in the MoMA film center.
I got a good enough look at all the volumes, as they were rapidly passed from hand to hand, that when someone called out, "It's too bad we don't have all seven volumes right here," I could shout out, "But we do!"
Someone yelled at me, "No, we don't!"
I said, "Yes, we do! Look!" As I pointed to each book as it transferred from hand to hand, I counted out the volumes. "One, two, three, four, five, six. And there's seven!"
I now saw a copy of the book like a wide-opening coffee table book. The right half of the cover was the cover of the new Harry Potter book. As I "heard" some TV or magazine story about J.K. Rowling my view slowly moved to the left side of the cover.
I thought, I've heard a lot of people talk about how much of a bitch (???!!!) J.K. Rowling is. I wondreed what she looked like. On the left side of the cover was a photo of Rowling. She looked like an Italian mother from Brooklyn -- black hair, blue sweater, kind of no-nonsense expression. In the photo, "Rowling" was painting some huge, abstract mural, looking back and smiling at the camera.
Now there was a view of her (not on the book, but like in life) standing behind a glass-paned front door. The view was in front of the door, to catch the glass' reflection of a field of flowers, bands of color -- yellow, purple, and white, with a vague green band -- and a feeling of mountains and sky in the distance.
In this view "Rowling" looked a lot older. Her hair was cut short and was reddish-brown, very tough. "Rowling's" face was round; her nose, nubby; her eyes, pale blue. I think I felt a wish in her that she could become young again.
Showing posts with label space shuttle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label space shuttle. Show all posts
Monday, February 25, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
(9/4/07) ice volcanoes; liberty crane; space shuttle replacement
(Entered in paper journal at 7:20 PM at home in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
A man "told me" (I heard the man's voice in my head) a story about his family, in particular his wife, as I flew upward, ascending mountain peaks. I ascended three peaks, the second higher than the first, but the third possibly lower than the second. All the peaks and mountainsides were blanketed in snow. The peaks of the mountains (or three peaks of one mountain?) crowned as if they had been cracked open, and snow-dusted ice lay inside.
As I descended the mountainside after reaching the third peak, it was like I was skiing, not flying. There were people all over, lounging around and practicing skiing.
The man's story, which I still heard in my head, mainly had to do with how good his wife was at what she did (skiing?), but how she was now somehow disabled from doing it, though she continued to put up an appearance of being able to do it in front of people who counted on her (her children?).
Dream #2
I stood overlooking a big river or an ocean with some co-workers. It was day and the sky was clear blue. Near us, the body of water seemed to be cluttered with vessels. Off to the right was a massive, brick building, which must have been where I worked (as if my co-workers were just my friends, and I didn't work with them). I could see images of parts, the head and a foot, of the Statue of Liberty -- as if they were lying in cubby-holes of brick in some brick structure floating in the air off to my left.
I was telling my friends that I could reconstruct just about any part of the Statue of Liberty. My boss BS then asked, "Then couldn't you reconstruct the whole Statue of Liberty?"
I thought to myself that I could construct an entire statue resembling the Statue of Liberty, but that I wasn't skillful enough to create a replica. I could even imagine the flaws that would inevitably creep into my reproduction: particularly a boxiness to Liberty's face and an awkward triangularity in the gown.
I replied, "I could, I suppose. But why would anybody want a whole Statue of Liberty? Unless the one we have is going to break."
We all now stood (as if we had always been standing) on the top of a vehicle like a shipping-crate crane that floated all by itself on the water. The crane was enormous. Its purpose was to move the Statue of Liberty for repairs. It was just the "crane" on a floating platform, the base of the structure being a dark grey (kind of like a garbage barge) and all the rest a white-grey, almost plastic material.
We floated toward a clutter of vessels as tall as ours. Amid this tangle of vessels stood the Statue of Liberty.
But before we could pick up the Statue of Liberty, one of our group said, "The French ship Beauregard is nearby!" Everybody agreed this was a pretty important sight to see. We steered our vessel in that direction.
Our vessel quickly cruised through the water, passing much smaller vehicles. As we moved, someone else explained that the Beauregard was the famous French sailing ship used in the XXXXX (French Revolution?).
As we glided along, we passed a snail-shaped, aluminum-colored vessel. The "curl" of the "snail-shell" was hollow. The vessel was, I somehow saw, property of Japan. I could tell that this was a Japanese space vehicle and that it was either preparing for launch or else that it had just landed after a flight.
I now walked down a road with my brother (who may also have been my friend R). We may have been walking toward a place like NASA.
I saw a black jet twirl up above a building in the distance. I said, "It's an SR-71!" But that didn't quite make sense to me, as SR-71s were, I thought, out of commission, no longer flying. I couldn't tell for sure, though: the jet's spinning (and my fear of the vehicle) made it hard for me to discern the jet's shape.
At last, though, the jet flipped so I could see its back end. The jet, first of all, was deep blue, not black like an SR-71 usually (or always?) is. The craft also had two close exhaust jets in the center of the back side, with wings fanning outward from the jets and two vertical fins coming up from in between the two jets -- very different from the SR-71.
I shouted, "It's an F-14!"
My brother (or my friend R?), who walked about five feet behind me, said, "That's not an F-14."
I was angry at being contradicted. I wanted to vindicate myself. The jet now "crashed" right beside us. The jet was just like a hollow, die-cast hulk of plastic, maybe ten feet long and in the shape of a jet. On its side was a label saying "YF-14."
I shouted, "See? I said it was an F-14!"
Dream #3
I was telling my friend R about how I had seen an advanced jet. R answered, "Oh, yeah? Well, have you seen the XXXXX?" (Some name like CP-1 or CP-9.) "It's the new jet that can go into space."
I tried to figure what R was talking about. I now saw, in my mind's eye, an aircraft carrier with greyish, plastic-looking jets that had an almost space-shuttle look to them but which were also very sleek. The jets were grey with red stripes.
I thought, Now I do remember these! Although, was it actually decided that these vehicles would be used to replace the shuttle?
(It's interesting, nowadays, to see how this vehicle would resemble, at least in its body, the Dreamchaser of Sierra Nevada Corporation, or the experimental spacecraft made by Boeing. I believe I knew of the SRS retirement in 2007 -- it was talked of in NASA white papers on the new moon exploration projects. And SNC must have been on the drawing board, if nowhere else, by 2007.
So a craft like this could easily have filtered into my subconscious through some media channel or other. But it's still interesting to see how the vehicle cropped up before the relative fame it's been experiencing over the past two or so years.)
Dream #1
A man "told me" (I heard the man's voice in my head) a story about his family, in particular his wife, as I flew upward, ascending mountain peaks. I ascended three peaks, the second higher than the first, but the third possibly lower than the second. All the peaks and mountainsides were blanketed in snow. The peaks of the mountains (or three peaks of one mountain?) crowned as if they had been cracked open, and snow-dusted ice lay inside.
As I descended the mountainside after reaching the third peak, it was like I was skiing, not flying. There were people all over, lounging around and practicing skiing.
The man's story, which I still heard in my head, mainly had to do with how good his wife was at what she did (skiing?), but how she was now somehow disabled from doing it, though she continued to put up an appearance of being able to do it in front of people who counted on her (her children?).
Dream #2
I stood overlooking a big river or an ocean with some co-workers. It was day and the sky was clear blue. Near us, the body of water seemed to be cluttered with vessels. Off to the right was a massive, brick building, which must have been where I worked (as if my co-workers were just my friends, and I didn't work with them). I could see images of parts, the head and a foot, of the Statue of Liberty -- as if they were lying in cubby-holes of brick in some brick structure floating in the air off to my left.
I was telling my friends that I could reconstruct just about any part of the Statue of Liberty. My boss BS then asked, "Then couldn't you reconstruct the whole Statue of Liberty?"
I thought to myself that I could construct an entire statue resembling the Statue of Liberty, but that I wasn't skillful enough to create a replica. I could even imagine the flaws that would inevitably creep into my reproduction: particularly a boxiness to Liberty's face and an awkward triangularity in the gown.
I replied, "I could, I suppose. But why would anybody want a whole Statue of Liberty? Unless the one we have is going to break."
We all now stood (as if we had always been standing) on the top of a vehicle like a shipping-crate crane that floated all by itself on the water. The crane was enormous. Its purpose was to move the Statue of Liberty for repairs. It was just the "crane" on a floating platform, the base of the structure being a dark grey (kind of like a garbage barge) and all the rest a white-grey, almost plastic material.
We floated toward a clutter of vessels as tall as ours. Amid this tangle of vessels stood the Statue of Liberty.
But before we could pick up the Statue of Liberty, one of our group said, "The French ship Beauregard is nearby!" Everybody agreed this was a pretty important sight to see. We steered our vessel in that direction.
Our vessel quickly cruised through the water, passing much smaller vehicles. As we moved, someone else explained that the Beauregard was the famous French sailing ship used in the XXXXX (French Revolution?).
As we glided along, we passed a snail-shaped, aluminum-colored vessel. The "curl" of the "snail-shell" was hollow. The vessel was, I somehow saw, property of Japan. I could tell that this was a Japanese space vehicle and that it was either preparing for launch or else that it had just landed after a flight.
I now walked down a road with my brother (who may also have been my friend R). We may have been walking toward a place like NASA.
I saw a black jet twirl up above a building in the distance. I said, "It's an SR-71!" But that didn't quite make sense to me, as SR-71s were, I thought, out of commission, no longer flying. I couldn't tell for sure, though: the jet's spinning (and my fear of the vehicle) made it hard for me to discern the jet's shape.
At last, though, the jet flipped so I could see its back end. The jet, first of all, was deep blue, not black like an SR-71 usually (or always?) is. The craft also had two close exhaust jets in the center of the back side, with wings fanning outward from the jets and two vertical fins coming up from in between the two jets -- very different from the SR-71.
I shouted, "It's an F-14!"
My brother (or my friend R?), who walked about five feet behind me, said, "That's not an F-14."
I was angry at being contradicted. I wanted to vindicate myself. The jet now "crashed" right beside us. The jet was just like a hollow, die-cast hulk of plastic, maybe ten feet long and in the shape of a jet. On its side was a label saying "YF-14."
I shouted, "See? I said it was an F-14!"
Dream #3
I was telling my friend R about how I had seen an advanced jet. R answered, "Oh, yeah? Well, have you seen the XXXXX?" (Some name like CP-1 or CP-9.) "It's the new jet that can go into space."
I tried to figure what R was talking about. I now saw, in my mind's eye, an aircraft carrier with greyish, plastic-looking jets that had an almost space-shuttle look to them but which were also very sleek. The jets were grey with red stripes.
I thought, Now I do remember these! Although, was it actually decided that these vehicles would be used to replace the shuttle?
(It's interesting, nowadays, to see how this vehicle would resemble, at least in its body, the Dreamchaser of Sierra Nevada Corporation, or the experimental spacecraft made by Boeing. I believe I knew of the SRS retirement in 2007 -- it was talked of in NASA white papers on the new moon exploration projects. And SNC must have been on the drawing board, if nowhere else, by 2007.
So a craft like this could easily have filtered into my subconscious through some media channel or other. But it's still interesting to see how the vehicle cropped up before the relative fame it's been experiencing over the past two or so years.)
Friday, January 25, 2013
(3/11/08) fight for your flight; miniskirt women; weird movies and weird sayings
(Entered in paper journal at 5:45 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was on a space shuttle which had just launched. But my point of view was from outside the shuttle. I could hear myself talking with a woman who was also in the shuttle. We were talking about how the propulsion tanks appear to drop off the shuttle so quickly when you're watching launches on TV, but how they seem a lot slower when you're actually on the shuttle.
I watched the propulsion tanks drop off the shuttle a couple times, from a couple different angles. Each time they seemed to drop off quickly and, in my opinion, too early. The shuttle itself seemed like a huge propulsion tank coated in big squares of beige tiling.
Now it was like I was coming back down, in the shuttle or in my body (?), over a city. As I descended I thought how I would, according to my memory of this event, land on a building-top in the city. I thought, This time I'll fight for the rights (of astronauts? of workers on the moon?).
Now I was back up in the air, headed down into the sea, which had a dirty, brownish color. The people at ground control who had been directing my flight learned that I was going to fight for people rights. So they misdirected me so I couldn't land in the city and begin fighting directly. I think the people even hoped I would drown.
I dove head-first into the water, did a roll at a considerable depth, and surfaced. I was now person like David Bowie, or like an alien character that David Bowie might play. I would have to head back toward the city. I stood onto a large square of well-manicured lawn.
Dream #2
I was possibly in a big vehicle (like an RV?) at night with a group of black women. The women all spoke about how they had to lose weight so they could fit into some really small miniskirts. I may have been a woman as well. I sat behind a woman, my legs cradled around her legs, my arms around her waist.
Dream #3
I stood before a thin, plywood wall like scaffolding in an open field or a vacant lot. On the wall were old movie posters. I looked at one in particular. It was supposed to be for a Fellini-esque movie. Depicted on the poster were Frank Sinatra, Charlie Chaplin, and a character/characters who looked like Saraghina from the film 8 1/2.
I tried to remember some of the movie's scenes, which I could feel were very surreal. I heard someone in a group of people behind me say, "Oh, no, not that movie again! It's not even very good!" I may now have felt ashamed for having recognized the movie.
I had wandered down to my left, to a wall of scaffolding behind the first wall. I stopped there to look at a more colorful movie poster that I can't remember. Looking to my right I saw a lot of these "scaffolding walls," like a maze or a small city-street, all with movie posters on them.
I wondered why I should be ashamed to remember the movie from first movie poster I saw. I went back to the poster. I was now carrying "my oldest nephew" on my shoulders. We tried to quote some lines from the movie.
Now we were inside a nice grocery store, like a small version of a Wild Oats store I used to visit in Santa Fe, New Mexico. My nephew was saying weird things. A (tall?) thin man with pale skin and red hair stood into my nephew's face and told him not to act in such a weird way.
I told my nephew, "That man didn't say that to be mean. He's really thinking of your own good."
My nephew agreed happily, as if complying with the man's statement, but continued saying weird things.
Dream #1
I was on a space shuttle which had just launched. But my point of view was from outside the shuttle. I could hear myself talking with a woman who was also in the shuttle. We were talking about how the propulsion tanks appear to drop off the shuttle so quickly when you're watching launches on TV, but how they seem a lot slower when you're actually on the shuttle.
I watched the propulsion tanks drop off the shuttle a couple times, from a couple different angles. Each time they seemed to drop off quickly and, in my opinion, too early. The shuttle itself seemed like a huge propulsion tank coated in big squares of beige tiling.
Now it was like I was coming back down, in the shuttle or in my body (?), over a city. As I descended I thought how I would, according to my memory of this event, land on a building-top in the city. I thought, This time I'll fight for the rights (of astronauts? of workers on the moon?).
Now I was back up in the air, headed down into the sea, which had a dirty, brownish color. The people at ground control who had been directing my flight learned that I was going to fight for people rights. So they misdirected me so I couldn't land in the city and begin fighting directly. I think the people even hoped I would drown.
I dove head-first into the water, did a roll at a considerable depth, and surfaced. I was now person like David Bowie, or like an alien character that David Bowie might play. I would have to head back toward the city. I stood onto a large square of well-manicured lawn.
Dream #2
I was possibly in a big vehicle (like an RV?) at night with a group of black women. The women all spoke about how they had to lose weight so they could fit into some really small miniskirts. I may have been a woman as well. I sat behind a woman, my legs cradled around her legs, my arms around her waist.
Dream #3
I stood before a thin, plywood wall like scaffolding in an open field or a vacant lot. On the wall were old movie posters. I looked at one in particular. It was supposed to be for a Fellini-esque movie. Depicted on the poster were Frank Sinatra, Charlie Chaplin, and a character/characters who looked like Saraghina from the film 8 1/2.
I tried to remember some of the movie's scenes, which I could feel were very surreal. I heard someone in a group of people behind me say, "Oh, no, not that movie again! It's not even very good!" I may now have felt ashamed for having recognized the movie.
I had wandered down to my left, to a wall of scaffolding behind the first wall. I stopped there to look at a more colorful movie poster that I can't remember. Looking to my right I saw a lot of these "scaffolding walls," like a maze or a small city-street, all with movie posters on them.
I wondered why I should be ashamed to remember the movie from first movie poster I saw. I went back to the poster. I was now carrying "my oldest nephew" on my shoulders. We tried to quote some lines from the movie.
Now we were inside a nice grocery store, like a small version of a Wild Oats store I used to visit in Santa Fe, New Mexico. My nephew was saying weird things. A (tall?) thin man with pale skin and red hair stood into my nephew's face and told him not to act in such a weird way.
I told my nephew, "That man didn't say that to be mean. He's really thinking of your own good."
My nephew agreed happily, as if complying with the man's statement, but continued saying weird things.
Monday, January 7, 2013
(8/19/08) flying in search of spacecraft
(Entered in paper journal at 12:17 PM at Starbucks.)
Dream #1
I stood before a cabin or wood house which may have been floating on a pond or lake. I saw a space shuttle fly overhead. As I tilted my head back, I saw the shuttle veer downward quickly. It made a kind of backward dive into the water. The shuttle was now very small, maybe only fifteen feet long. It splashed very lightly.
I turned my back on the shuttle and rounded a corner to avoid seeing the shuttle completely submerge in the water. I was afraid the shuttle would explode. But then I wanted to see the shuttle or see if the people who had presumably been inside were alright.
I walked around the house (away from where the shuttle had fallen) and onto shore, into a hillside. The light was very golden and the grass was very green. I wondered how I could get over the water to the point where the shuttle had submerged. I thought I could fly.
I flew until I got to a house which was something like a ticket booth for getting into the lake. I walked past the booth, but actually on the turnstiles and line railings. I thought if anybody saw me actually flying they'd think I was crazy.
I was now flying over the lake, just near the shore. I was right over the spot where the shuttle had crashed. The water was dirtyish and greenish. A black and purple, slightly glittery rubber bouncy ball flew upward into my right hand.
I thought I should go down into the water to find the shuttle, to pull people out if they needed help. But instead, without my control (?), I was flying into the air. I flew past and over the house. The sky was a cool blue, dotted by tiny, wispy, icy white clouds.
I told myself that there actually hadn't been any people in the shuttle. I thought there was another space vehicle that would crash down soon, more like the old "Mercury" space capsules (or like the contemporary Soyuz capsules, I should have told myself... or like the contemporary SpaceX capsules, I could tell myself today... ugh...). This capsule would have people in it. I could see the capsule in my mind's eye. It was silvery and bright, and had something like an orange-red parachute flapping over its top part.
I was afraid to be in the sky. I thought the capsule would smack into my head as it headed downward toward the lake. I kept flying. I may have convinced myself the vehicle wouldn't hit me.
Dream #1
I stood before a cabin or wood house which may have been floating on a pond or lake. I saw a space shuttle fly overhead. As I tilted my head back, I saw the shuttle veer downward quickly. It made a kind of backward dive into the water. The shuttle was now very small, maybe only fifteen feet long. It splashed very lightly.
I turned my back on the shuttle and rounded a corner to avoid seeing the shuttle completely submerge in the water. I was afraid the shuttle would explode. But then I wanted to see the shuttle or see if the people who had presumably been inside were alright.
I walked around the house (away from where the shuttle had fallen) and onto shore, into a hillside. The light was very golden and the grass was very green. I wondered how I could get over the water to the point where the shuttle had submerged. I thought I could fly.
I flew until I got to a house which was something like a ticket booth for getting into the lake. I walked past the booth, but actually on the turnstiles and line railings. I thought if anybody saw me actually flying they'd think I was crazy.
I was now flying over the lake, just near the shore. I was right over the spot where the shuttle had crashed. The water was dirtyish and greenish. A black and purple, slightly glittery rubber bouncy ball flew upward into my right hand.
I thought I should go down into the water to find the shuttle, to pull people out if they needed help. But instead, without my control (?), I was flying into the air. I flew past and over the house. The sky was a cool blue, dotted by tiny, wispy, icy white clouds.
I told myself that there actually hadn't been any people in the shuttle. I thought there was another space vehicle that would crash down soon, more like the old "Mercury" space capsules (or like the contemporary Soyuz capsules, I should have told myself... or like the contemporary SpaceX capsules, I could tell myself today... ugh...). This capsule would have people in it. I could see the capsule in my mind's eye. It was silvery and bright, and had something like an orange-red parachute flapping over its top part.
I was afraid to be in the sky. I thought the capsule would smack into my head as it headed downward toward the lake. I kept flying. I may have convinced myself the vehicle wouldn't hit me.
Monday, November 19, 2012
(5/13/09) insects among friends; my space jet isn't good enough
Dream #1
I was in a room like the dining room of the house my family lived in from the time I was eleven to fifteen years old. My family was there, as were other people, possibly my peers from the job I had just gotten laid off from. It was daytime, and natural light came into the room from a sliding-glass door at the back of the room. There were a few pieces of furniture in the room There might have been a nice rug on the floor.
On the wall to my right was my mom's buffet, one of her favorite pieces of furniture. The left cupboard door of the buffet was missing. A large insect like a roach tumbled out of the cupboard. The insect was maybe an inch and a half or two inches long. It landed on its legs on the floor. It was dead, dried out.
A smaller insect, also roach-like, but maybe only half an inch long, devoured the larger insect before our very eyes, until the larger insect was nothing more than a frame, like legs and a few spindly structures outlining where the body used to be.
I was ashamed that I had let my co-workers, whom I thought of as friends, especially my co-worker CT, see that I had allowed such a large insect into my house.
Dream #2
I was with my family, driving a large jet or new space rocket down through tunnels like walkway tunnels between subway platforms. The corridors had concrete floors and white-tiled walls and were lit with greenish-grey-white fluorescent light.
At first the jet we drove in looked (in my mind's eye?) white and like a hybrid of an SR-71, a Concord, and a space shuttle, with a radar disc on top. The vehicle may have had a grid pattern on it, as if it was tiled.
There was a young boy with us, somewhere, as if behind me and to my left, and not quite inside the vehicle. The boy was short, of medium build, bratty looking, a little tan, with longish, golden-brown hair, wearing a cocked backward, blue baseball cap, a longish, navy blue t-shirt, and baggy blue jeans.
The boy was making fun of the vehicle in a bratty way, like the vehicle wasn't good enough. In some way I felt like the boy was right. But I alsy felt like I just needed to ignore the boy. We were doing just fine in this vehicle. At some point the vehicle become more like an SR-71, black and tall.
We stopped in a wide opening, like there area before the turnstiles at subway stations. We may have gotten out of the vehicle, as if we were going to walk through the turnstiles and onto the subway platform.
I was in a room like the dining room of the house my family lived in from the time I was eleven to fifteen years old. My family was there, as were other people, possibly my peers from the job I had just gotten laid off from. It was daytime, and natural light came into the room from a sliding-glass door at the back of the room. There were a few pieces of furniture in the room There might have been a nice rug on the floor.
On the wall to my right was my mom's buffet, one of her favorite pieces of furniture. The left cupboard door of the buffet was missing. A large insect like a roach tumbled out of the cupboard. The insect was maybe an inch and a half or two inches long. It landed on its legs on the floor. It was dead, dried out.
A smaller insect, also roach-like, but maybe only half an inch long, devoured the larger insect before our very eyes, until the larger insect was nothing more than a frame, like legs and a few spindly structures outlining where the body used to be.
I was ashamed that I had let my co-workers, whom I thought of as friends, especially my co-worker CT, see that I had allowed such a large insect into my house.
Dream #2
I was with my family, driving a large jet or new space rocket down through tunnels like walkway tunnels between subway platforms. The corridors had concrete floors and white-tiled walls and were lit with greenish-grey-white fluorescent light.
At first the jet we drove in looked (in my mind's eye?) white and like a hybrid of an SR-71, a Concord, and a space shuttle, with a radar disc on top. The vehicle may have had a grid pattern on it, as if it was tiled.
There was a young boy with us, somewhere, as if behind me and to my left, and not quite inside the vehicle. The boy was short, of medium build, bratty looking, a little tan, with longish, golden-brown hair, wearing a cocked backward, blue baseball cap, a longish, navy blue t-shirt, and baggy blue jeans.
The boy was making fun of the vehicle in a bratty way, like the vehicle wasn't good enough. In some way I felt like the boy was right. But I alsy felt like I just needed to ignore the boy. We were doing just fine in this vehicle. At some point the vehicle become more like an SR-71, black and tall.
We stopped in a wide opening, like there area before the turnstiles at subway stations. We may have gotten out of the vehicle, as if we were going to walk through the turnstiles and onto the subway platform.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
(1/30/10) space attack - brazil!; family on east side; fruit punch pop-tarts
(Entered in paper journal at 8:35 AM at Sit & Wonder cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
A view of a space shuttle lifting up into the sky. The view was grainy film footage. The shuttle was viewed, from perhaps one hundred meters away, lifting up through a blue sky and then into a thin layer of scattered, tan and white clouds. The shuttle left huge, tightly billowing clouds trailing behind it. There may have been only a tiny bit of propulsive flame visible under the shuttle -- it may have had a raspy flare to it, like fireworks. The boosters never came off the shuttle.
My view of all this may have started from below, as if from the ground. From there it may have pulled up to a level with the space shuttle, traveling along with it up into the clouds.
As the shuttle traveled, I heard a news reporter talking about how a crazy man had been stopped from getting onto the shuttle and sabotaging it. I couldn't quite keep in my mind that the man had been stopped. I kept feling like I was watching the shuttle moments before the man sabotaged and destroyed it.
The news report now played a recording of the man who had aimed to sabotage the shuttle. He was a kind of crazy-looking, older, Japanese man. He spoke in a distracted, grating, slighlty high voice.
The man first spoke about having come from Hawaii. Then he spoke about why he chose to sabotage the shuttle. He explained it in an analogy, a joke about a New Jersey dentist, or a joke about a dentist told to him by a friend of his from New Jersey?
As the man told this joke, the shuttle topped over the layer of sunrise pink and tan clouds. The shuttle began flying horizontally. The trail of smoke behind the ship was dark grey. The view stoppped moving along with the shuttle. The shuttle cruised forward into the distance. The view, which may eventually have become me, personally, flying, continued moving slowly forward, eventually descending through the clouds again.
I tried to figure out how the shuttle was going to get to space while traveling horizontally. I figured that somehow the shuttle would go tangentially with the earth, winding out into space that way.
I heard the news report discussing how the crazy man's origins were being tracked. The man was, I believe, going down somewhere in South America, although I think the report said he was going to Portugal. There apparently was some kind of overall conspiracy in the location where the crazy man had come from.
I was now descending toward land. The ground below me was a thin, patchy field of grass and dusty soil. It seemed to be slightly rolling and rounded. There may have been a couple children playing on a kind of barren playground. An apartment complex may have stood in the distance.
When I landed I was in some South American city. I stood in a narrow, European-looking street full of shops. The weather was very warm and sunny. I walked down the narrow street, which was positioned in shade, toward a wider, sunny street running crosswise to this one.
As I walked I could sense that two tough men, possibly wearing beige trenchcoats, were following me from about a block away. I could even hear them discussing me, their voices as close and intimate as if they were right over my shoulder. I may have felt like they were following me to prevent me from finding the origins of the crazy man.
I tried to walk nonchalantly, figuring I'd go about my business, whatever it was, and lose the two men somehow. I approached the sunny street. It was full of shops, and it seemed lively, though there weren't many people around.
I turned right and faced a dead end at the head of which was a wide, stout, cobblestone building with brand new-looking windows. The building looked like it used to be a hotel, though it now seemed to be closed down.
I turned around to head in the other direction. But I came to a side street on my right hand side. I turned down the street. The street was dim. I approached another sunny street, which seemed to have a couple of dead ends. I ended up wandering through a maze of streets in this fashion. The place I was in seemed less and less like a city and more like a courtyard in a castle or passageways within or behind a complex of buildings.
Finally I came upon an apartment complex. It was kind of modern: a lot of "raw" concrete and concrete-and-pebble designs. The levels over each other were sloped and jangly. Walking through the place I barely saw any sun, though the ground level felt open to the air and light somewhere.
I could hear families, mostly children, with some mothers, and not too many men, running around, talking, and playing. I was trying not to be noticed. I felt like some or all of the people here would inform on me or even attack me if they saw me.
I was trying to get out of this place. But, I thought, once I got out, how would I know where I was? I thought I should get a good vantage point, so I could see where I was and where I should head. I started floating upward, in the narrow gaps between the staircases, still avoiding being seen by people.
I ended up in a complex of stairways and balcony-like walkways that were much more exposed to sunlight and sky, and seemed to stand before a downward hill slope and, possibly, over a somewhat large complex of apartments. The sunlight was bright, pale, possibly cold, like winter light in the afternoon.
I walked, across a black-painted, metal walkway?, toward the hill. As I did, I was called to by a boy and his father. The boy asked me why I was here. Somehow I slowly came to understand that I was in Brazil. I spoke with the boy and his father, mainly the boy, about where I was and what I was doing.
We walked through a narrow set of staircases that seemed like staircases in a playground playset. The stairs kept going higher and higher, tracking up the hill, but also towering more and more over the ground of the hill. We were approaching the top of the hill. I thought I would have a good vantage point from the top of the hill.
We continued walking. The boy may have spoken a lot of Spanish and a little English. The father spoke neither. The boy translated for the father, either into Portugese, or into a native Brazilian language. As we spoke, I could see the Brazilian flag in my mind's eye. The flag seemed to lie rumpled on the ground.
I had to speak with the boy mostly in Spanish. I said very basic things. I tried to express myself plainly with the Spanish I could muster. My Spanish was rudimentary, but passable. Upon waking, I could even remember what I'd said, thought I can now no longer remember it.
We approached the top of the hill. We stood on the ground. The ground was red, patched, and clumped with grass and possibly even yucca. I looked out across the field, which spanned out shallowly before me. At the other end of the field was an apartment complex. There may have been a few tiny groups of people dotting the field, people out playing around and lounging around.
This scene may have felt familiar to me. But it seemed very different from the city through which I had been walking and to which I was trying to return. I felt slightly discouraged and burdened, like I would in waking life when I go on a long, random walk and find myself somewhere where I know I'll have to do a lot of walking and back-tracking to get to a subway or some reference point from which I can easily get home.
Dream #2
I was walking down a city street at night. I turned right. I walked down a street that became increasinly dark. The darkness even seemed to plunge into my ears, possibly even against my skin, giving me a feeling of being deep under a blanket in the midst of a sickness. The feeling became even more intense, so that I felt like I was losing my equilibrium
Now I was walking out on a street which was very dark but which had a couple of streetlights, as wells as the slight, deep blue glow of sky to illuminate some things. A brambly tree or shrub crowded over me at first -- a barren tangle of what seemed to be pale, brittle, thorny branches.
I continued along. I saw that I was in a neighborhood full of single-family homes and well-spaced yards. I was surprised to see such a neighborhood in New York, especially Manhattan -- which was apparently where I was.
I even wondered whether the darkness weren't distorting my vision altogether, making me think that I was seeing single-family homes where there were really multi-family buildings. But then, I told myself, this was the East Side, the Far East Side, and there was a lot more space out here. People kind of didn't even want to come out here, I told myself.
I noticed that the houses were small. But, I told myself, the space in these houses would be enough for me. Plus, I would have a yard and a lot of separation from my neighbors.
I had been looking at houses on the right side of the street. I may even have stopped and looked straight at one of the houses. I now turned and looked to the left side of the street. There seemed to be a thick layer of darkness, then a long yard, at the end of which I saw the back end of a tall house.
I wandered through the yard and ended up before windows that looked down into the low-set first floor of what felt like a playhouse or guest house near the larger house which I had previously seen. It might have been early morning.
I looked into the window. The lights were on. My brother was inside, possibly sitting wrapped under a pile of blankets. The room seemed like a very large living room, cluttered all over with blankets and sheets.
My brother looked up and saw me. He may have called out to me, but he also called out to my mother and possibly also my sister. He said to them, "Hey, guys, it looks like Preemie came here after all, after such a long time."
I was now inside the house. It was my whole immediate family -- my mom, my brother, my sister, and myself. We were possibly supposed to go to the large house. But we were waiting for something. At some point in time, my great grandmother may have come into the room.
Everybody was happy to see me. But everybody was kind of holding back emotionally from me, trying to keep me from feeling intruded on and upset. I was acting polite, but I didn't exactly want to be here. I was especially uneasy about having to wait before going to the larger house. I really felt like we wouldn't ever be able to go there after all.
Dream #3
I was with a group of people in the line for the concession stand at a movie theater. The people may have been a group of high schoolers, with some teachers. I may have been there in the role of a volunteer.
I, and some of the students?, decided to head into the theater ahead of the group. We went into the theater, which looked more like a university auditorium than a movie theater. The lights were bright, fluorescent white with a slight tinge of green. The floors were carpeted in a pale pink-tan, very thin carpet. The rows of seats were very wide, with more than enough space for seats and desks, and a lot of leg room. The aisles were also wide, with wide, small steps.
The place hadn't yet filled up. I was walking down the right aisle. At first I thought I was by myself. But as I turned my head left to look for a good row of seats, I noticed that three of the students, some black boys, probably in their late teens, were behind me.
I was about to walk down to the very front of the theater, where I usually like to sit, but the boys turned down a row about halfway up the aisle. I wanted to be accommodating to the boys, so I turned down the row, too. I said, "Got it! Let's get our seats!" like I was pretending to be some kind of cartoon military person. As I said this, I wondered if I sounded confident.
I walked along the edge of the row, which now seemed like a broadly curving ledge, maybe six feet down to the lower row of seats. I may have been afraid I might fall.
I thought that if I had sounded too confident as I had given my pretend command, the adults (a bunch of squeamish white men and women) would think I was challenging their authority. The adults would then all try to pile into this row -- which the boys and I were trying to stake our for our entire group. So I now tried to sound very meek.
The boys took seats. I was going to sit by the boys to talk with them. But I saw that the boys all sat a few seats apart from each other. I realized they were doing this to save seats for the whole group. So I did the same thing, sitting near the aisle.
I watched the screen, which was set high above the "stage" area at the front of the room. The screen must have been enormous. The room itself seemed enormous. The room seemed to be filling up now.
I was watching advertisements on the screen. They all seemed to be for Pop-Tarts. There was a weird trivia series: two slides, the first of which mentioned Pop-Tarts' "classic" SGGB campaign, and the second of which said what the letters in the acronym stood for.
The acronym may have been SBBG, now that I think of it. The first three letters, I'm certain, stood for strawberry, blueberry, and bland. The last letter stood for some special "multi" kind of flavor, the pastry of which was also flavored to match the weird, tropical (?) fruit of the filling and frosting.
The trivia question about this "classic" advertising campaign probably filled me with nostalgia. After the trivia slides came either some slides or actual video commercials about new Pop-Tarts, which were, in some ways, a lot like the "multi" Pop-Tarts. These Pop-Tarts were, I gathered from the commercials, marketed toward young women in the business field.
The commercials showed youngish women dressed in suit-dresses walking through clean, but crowded, city streets in glimmering sunlight. The women were athletically fit, strong, healthy. In one of the ads, a woman sat at a bench like at a bus stop while eating the Pop-Tart. The whole campaign was supposed to provide a sense that these Pop-Tarts provided health for women with an active lifestyle.
The Pop-Tarts, including the pastry, were colored in pastel, "feminine" colors, like purple and pink. The entire Pop-Tart was one solid color, so that it looked like some kind of Easter candy. The women would hold the Pop-Tarts in weird ways -- loosely, by the corner, as if they were cigarettes or newspapers. This product line had a weird name, like Fruity Punches. The flavors were also odd, mixed-tropical-fruit flavors.
Dream #1
A view of a space shuttle lifting up into the sky. The view was grainy film footage. The shuttle was viewed, from perhaps one hundred meters away, lifting up through a blue sky and then into a thin layer of scattered, tan and white clouds. The shuttle left huge, tightly billowing clouds trailing behind it. There may have been only a tiny bit of propulsive flame visible under the shuttle -- it may have had a raspy flare to it, like fireworks. The boosters never came off the shuttle.
My view of all this may have started from below, as if from the ground. From there it may have pulled up to a level with the space shuttle, traveling along with it up into the clouds.
As the shuttle traveled, I heard a news reporter talking about how a crazy man had been stopped from getting onto the shuttle and sabotaging it. I couldn't quite keep in my mind that the man had been stopped. I kept feling like I was watching the shuttle moments before the man sabotaged and destroyed it.
The news report now played a recording of the man who had aimed to sabotage the shuttle. He was a kind of crazy-looking, older, Japanese man. He spoke in a distracted, grating, slighlty high voice.
The man first spoke about having come from Hawaii. Then he spoke about why he chose to sabotage the shuttle. He explained it in an analogy, a joke about a New Jersey dentist, or a joke about a dentist told to him by a friend of his from New Jersey?
As the man told this joke, the shuttle topped over the layer of sunrise pink and tan clouds. The shuttle began flying horizontally. The trail of smoke behind the ship was dark grey. The view stoppped moving along with the shuttle. The shuttle cruised forward into the distance. The view, which may eventually have become me, personally, flying, continued moving slowly forward, eventually descending through the clouds again.
I tried to figure out how the shuttle was going to get to space while traveling horizontally. I figured that somehow the shuttle would go tangentially with the earth, winding out into space that way.
I heard the news report discussing how the crazy man's origins were being tracked. The man was, I believe, going down somewhere in South America, although I think the report said he was going to Portugal. There apparently was some kind of overall conspiracy in the location where the crazy man had come from.
I was now descending toward land. The ground below me was a thin, patchy field of grass and dusty soil. It seemed to be slightly rolling and rounded. There may have been a couple children playing on a kind of barren playground. An apartment complex may have stood in the distance.
When I landed I was in some South American city. I stood in a narrow, European-looking street full of shops. The weather was very warm and sunny. I walked down the narrow street, which was positioned in shade, toward a wider, sunny street running crosswise to this one.
As I walked I could sense that two tough men, possibly wearing beige trenchcoats, were following me from about a block away. I could even hear them discussing me, their voices as close and intimate as if they were right over my shoulder. I may have felt like they were following me to prevent me from finding the origins of the crazy man.
I tried to walk nonchalantly, figuring I'd go about my business, whatever it was, and lose the two men somehow. I approached the sunny street. It was full of shops, and it seemed lively, though there weren't many people around.
I turned right and faced a dead end at the head of which was a wide, stout, cobblestone building with brand new-looking windows. The building looked like it used to be a hotel, though it now seemed to be closed down.
I turned around to head in the other direction. But I came to a side street on my right hand side. I turned down the street. The street was dim. I approached another sunny street, which seemed to have a couple of dead ends. I ended up wandering through a maze of streets in this fashion. The place I was in seemed less and less like a city and more like a courtyard in a castle or passageways within or behind a complex of buildings.
Finally I came upon an apartment complex. It was kind of modern: a lot of "raw" concrete and concrete-and-pebble designs. The levels over each other were sloped and jangly. Walking through the place I barely saw any sun, though the ground level felt open to the air and light somewhere.
I could hear families, mostly children, with some mothers, and not too many men, running around, talking, and playing. I was trying not to be noticed. I felt like some or all of the people here would inform on me or even attack me if they saw me.
I was trying to get out of this place. But, I thought, once I got out, how would I know where I was? I thought I should get a good vantage point, so I could see where I was and where I should head. I started floating upward, in the narrow gaps between the staircases, still avoiding being seen by people.
I ended up in a complex of stairways and balcony-like walkways that were much more exposed to sunlight and sky, and seemed to stand before a downward hill slope and, possibly, over a somewhat large complex of apartments. The sunlight was bright, pale, possibly cold, like winter light in the afternoon.
I walked, across a black-painted, metal walkway?, toward the hill. As I did, I was called to by a boy and his father. The boy asked me why I was here. Somehow I slowly came to understand that I was in Brazil. I spoke with the boy and his father, mainly the boy, about where I was and what I was doing.
We walked through a narrow set of staircases that seemed like staircases in a playground playset. The stairs kept going higher and higher, tracking up the hill, but also towering more and more over the ground of the hill. We were approaching the top of the hill. I thought I would have a good vantage point from the top of the hill.
We continued walking. The boy may have spoken a lot of Spanish and a little English. The father spoke neither. The boy translated for the father, either into Portugese, or into a native Brazilian language. As we spoke, I could see the Brazilian flag in my mind's eye. The flag seemed to lie rumpled on the ground.
I had to speak with the boy mostly in Spanish. I said very basic things. I tried to express myself plainly with the Spanish I could muster. My Spanish was rudimentary, but passable. Upon waking, I could even remember what I'd said, thought I can now no longer remember it.
We approached the top of the hill. We stood on the ground. The ground was red, patched, and clumped with grass and possibly even yucca. I looked out across the field, which spanned out shallowly before me. At the other end of the field was an apartment complex. There may have been a few tiny groups of people dotting the field, people out playing around and lounging around.
This scene may have felt familiar to me. But it seemed very different from the city through which I had been walking and to which I was trying to return. I felt slightly discouraged and burdened, like I would in waking life when I go on a long, random walk and find myself somewhere where I know I'll have to do a lot of walking and back-tracking to get to a subway or some reference point from which I can easily get home.
Dream #2
I was walking down a city street at night. I turned right. I walked down a street that became increasinly dark. The darkness even seemed to plunge into my ears, possibly even against my skin, giving me a feeling of being deep under a blanket in the midst of a sickness. The feeling became even more intense, so that I felt like I was losing my equilibrium
Now I was walking out on a street which was very dark but which had a couple of streetlights, as wells as the slight, deep blue glow of sky to illuminate some things. A brambly tree or shrub crowded over me at first -- a barren tangle of what seemed to be pale, brittle, thorny branches.
I continued along. I saw that I was in a neighborhood full of single-family homes and well-spaced yards. I was surprised to see such a neighborhood in New York, especially Manhattan -- which was apparently where I was.
I even wondered whether the darkness weren't distorting my vision altogether, making me think that I was seeing single-family homes where there were really multi-family buildings. But then, I told myself, this was the East Side, the Far East Side, and there was a lot more space out here. People kind of didn't even want to come out here, I told myself.
I noticed that the houses were small. But, I told myself, the space in these houses would be enough for me. Plus, I would have a yard and a lot of separation from my neighbors.
I had been looking at houses on the right side of the street. I may even have stopped and looked straight at one of the houses. I now turned and looked to the left side of the street. There seemed to be a thick layer of darkness, then a long yard, at the end of which I saw the back end of a tall house.
I wandered through the yard and ended up before windows that looked down into the low-set first floor of what felt like a playhouse or guest house near the larger house which I had previously seen. It might have been early morning.
I looked into the window. The lights were on. My brother was inside, possibly sitting wrapped under a pile of blankets. The room seemed like a very large living room, cluttered all over with blankets and sheets.
My brother looked up and saw me. He may have called out to me, but he also called out to my mother and possibly also my sister. He said to them, "Hey, guys, it looks like Preemie came here after all, after such a long time."
I was now inside the house. It was my whole immediate family -- my mom, my brother, my sister, and myself. We were possibly supposed to go to the large house. But we were waiting for something. At some point in time, my great grandmother may have come into the room.
Everybody was happy to see me. But everybody was kind of holding back emotionally from me, trying to keep me from feeling intruded on and upset. I was acting polite, but I didn't exactly want to be here. I was especially uneasy about having to wait before going to the larger house. I really felt like we wouldn't ever be able to go there after all.
Dream #3
I was with a group of people in the line for the concession stand at a movie theater. The people may have been a group of high schoolers, with some teachers. I may have been there in the role of a volunteer.
I, and some of the students?, decided to head into the theater ahead of the group. We went into the theater, which looked more like a university auditorium than a movie theater. The lights were bright, fluorescent white with a slight tinge of green. The floors were carpeted in a pale pink-tan, very thin carpet. The rows of seats were very wide, with more than enough space for seats and desks, and a lot of leg room. The aisles were also wide, with wide, small steps.
The place hadn't yet filled up. I was walking down the right aisle. At first I thought I was by myself. But as I turned my head left to look for a good row of seats, I noticed that three of the students, some black boys, probably in their late teens, were behind me.
I was about to walk down to the very front of the theater, where I usually like to sit, but the boys turned down a row about halfway up the aisle. I wanted to be accommodating to the boys, so I turned down the row, too. I said, "Got it! Let's get our seats!" like I was pretending to be some kind of cartoon military person. As I said this, I wondered if I sounded confident.
I walked along the edge of the row, which now seemed like a broadly curving ledge, maybe six feet down to the lower row of seats. I may have been afraid I might fall.
I thought that if I had sounded too confident as I had given my pretend command, the adults (a bunch of squeamish white men and women) would think I was challenging their authority. The adults would then all try to pile into this row -- which the boys and I were trying to stake our for our entire group. So I now tried to sound very meek.
The boys took seats. I was going to sit by the boys to talk with them. But I saw that the boys all sat a few seats apart from each other. I realized they were doing this to save seats for the whole group. So I did the same thing, sitting near the aisle.
I watched the screen, which was set high above the "stage" area at the front of the room. The screen must have been enormous. The room itself seemed enormous. The room seemed to be filling up now.
I was watching advertisements on the screen. They all seemed to be for Pop-Tarts. There was a weird trivia series: two slides, the first of which mentioned Pop-Tarts' "classic" SGGB campaign, and the second of which said what the letters in the acronym stood for.
The acronym may have been SBBG, now that I think of it. The first three letters, I'm certain, stood for strawberry, blueberry, and bland. The last letter stood for some special "multi" kind of flavor, the pastry of which was also flavored to match the weird, tropical (?) fruit of the filling and frosting.
The trivia question about this "classic" advertising campaign probably filled me with nostalgia. After the trivia slides came either some slides or actual video commercials about new Pop-Tarts, which were, in some ways, a lot like the "multi" Pop-Tarts. These Pop-Tarts were, I gathered from the commercials, marketed toward young women in the business field.
The commercials showed youngish women dressed in suit-dresses walking through clean, but crowded, city streets in glimmering sunlight. The women were athletically fit, strong, healthy. In one of the ads, a woman sat at a bench like at a bus stop while eating the Pop-Tart. The whole campaign was supposed to provide a sense that these Pop-Tarts provided health for women with an active lifestyle.
The Pop-Tarts, including the pastry, were colored in pastel, "feminine" colors, like purple and pink. The entire Pop-Tart was one solid color, so that it looked like some kind of Easter candy. The women would hold the Pop-Tarts in weird ways -- loosely, by the corner, as if they were cigarettes or newspapers. This product line had a weird name, like Fruity Punches. The flavors were also odd, mixed-tropical-fruit flavors.
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