(Entered in paper journal at 8 PM at home in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I was flying over bodies of water. They were in all different sizes and types but in weird, distorted senses. They all had disgusting, dirty water I was afraid to touch. At one point I flew over a "pool" like where a sandbox would be in a "playground." The "sandbox/pool" had a ghastly floor like limestone lumps or toad skin.
I stood by a swing set on a sandbar that edged into a large body of water. The singer Beck was by me, accusing me of something that implied I didn't value him as a person. I tried to prove that wasn't so.
I was flying over the body of water. Soon I was in it -- I had to go in it. I had to go under it and find a flesh-colored whale. There were lots of giant fish down there.
Somewhere far off, people were watching me. I had to prove to them that I was brave. But I also simply needed to find the whale -- regardless of how much I didn't want to.
The water disgusted me -- it was opaque and brown. I just waded in it. But I didn't want to go under the surface. There you couldn't see anything. Nothing was particularly bad. It was just disgusting -- fish deformed, fleshy, like severed arms. I was afraid they could bump into me without seeing me and spook me so much I would go crazy or contract a disease. But still I had to do it.
Dream 2
I was in some kind of building. Through wide, short windows I saw a Stealth Bomber. I called it something like an SR-10. It flew from left to right. I heard some people talking. Then I saw a couple Blackbirds. Then a whole procession of black jets, like cars of a train, blasted before the window.
I hurried outside to see. I was on a concrete area at the top of gravel hill (artificial) bordered by a fence. The jets flew low enough to be at eye level (obviously). But by the time I got outside all the black jets were gone. There were only grey jets, and only a few.
Some Mexican people, mostly kids, were chattering nearby. Some had been dropped off by some of the jets. I looked to my right, down the roughly two-hundred-foot slope, to a lot (like a parking lot!) full of jets.
The kids asked me if they could stay at my place (while they waited for the next wave of jets to come pick them up?). I thought to my place -- how I had left girl clothes everywhere and how the kids might dislike me for the girl clothes. I also thought of how dirty my place was.
I thought I couldn't have the kids stay with me and see what a loser I was. I gave the kids a weird excuse -- (I had to talk to my "landlady"?) -- making it clear I had to go away for a moment and then come back and tell the kids if they could stay, though I (possibly they) already knew it couldn't happen.
I was disappointed in myself. I thought, I can't even be brave enough to let these people into my house?
Showing posts with label sr-71 blackbird. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sr-71 blackbird. Show all posts
Sunday, February 5, 2017
Monday, February 18, 2013
(8/31/07) las vegas taco bell; mute phones; pressure helmet; acquisition; cartoon aircraft; lesbian bergman; i look fat
Dream #1
I heard someone talk about some financial project to rebuild Las Vegas. My view descended to the left and down a steep dune of sand in which were embedded signs for casinos, like in the (at the time I entered the dream in my paper journal) new Resident Evil movie ads. I thought, That makes sense. Las Vegas is ready for a change.
I now saw a Taco Bell restaurant. It stood alone in a parking lot. It may have stood slanted. Its sign was shredded like it had been a tarp-like or awning-like sign hanging on the building. The inside had a weird, torn-to-pieces look as well, like the glass doors and windows were busted and swirling around.
I heard a narrator say, "All the work that went into creating this one store was destroyed in a very short time by the angered workers." I thought that this one store meant a lot to the operations of the overall company. Now it was gone.
I stood in line at a Taco Bell with my co-worker CJ. The line was all tall, white, overweight businessmen in suits. CJ was preparing a speech he would give when we got to the front of the line. I was hoping the speech wouldn't anger the workers or the people standing in line. CJ assured me it wouldn't. It was possibly about the need to rebuild the torn-to-pieces restaurant now that it had been destroyed.
The store in which we stood was dim. There seemed to be no seating area: the front area was entirely taken up by a belt-strap line-maze. The only other area was the cashier counter and the food-prep area. Dim natural light came in through the window. The cashiers stood on a platform maybe two feet in front of us. In front of us was a platform elevated maybe a foot from floor-level. CJ stood on that platform to give his speech.
Dream #2
I sat in a kind of dank, yellowish presentation room on a high floor of "my office building." A lot of people from "my work" were there. I sat somewhat in the back, toward the right wall. For some reason, maybe because I was slouching (or lying down?), I couldn't see to the front of the room.
A very important person, who worked for our company but who came from a different location, had come to speak. One of my senior colleagues from a different department of my company, maybe BSi, brought the man up to speak. The person may have had shaggy, red hair and a shaggy, red beard.
BSi said something to the effect of how much progress we'd made in our work. Someone's voice came on over the phone/intercom and made a snide comment about the internet, implying something about our company. BSi asked, "Could everybody listening in please mute their phones?"
The person on the phone/intercom interrupted, "No. We won't mute our phones. I'm not going to be quiet now." The person continued ranting. I was trying to figure out who he was. I knew I knew him, but I couldn't figure out who he was. He sounded laid back, not angry, but definitely like he was going to stand his ground.
I had the image in my mind of a tall, brown-haired frat-boy I knew in college. I told myself the person on the phone couldn't be this boy, because I didn't work with him nowadays. The person had to be someone I currently worked with.
A couple of my friends must have known who the person one the phone was. They stood up, walked toward me, somehow signaled they were going to the guy's desk office to stop him before things got worse, and left the room. I heard the man continue ranting. The last thing he said had to do with police putting handcuffs on him.
Dream #3
I sat on the floor and beside either a table or the back of a couch. I was speaking with someone like my old friend ML about preparations for some aircraft like an SR-71. Some man stood near me. I was saying things in hopes of impressing him. The man and I were in a room like a dining room. It had a messy feel somehow. ML stood just beyond a wide doorway into another room.
ML told me I had forgotten something for the pilots' helmets. I started fiddling with some criss-crosses of transparent tape on the tablecloth or sofa covering that seemed to be attached to black velvet. I asked what help the forgotten additions would be, anyway.
ML angrily said, "They'd help the pilots fly more comfortably!"
I could now see in my mind's eye that I had forgotten to add a seal to the helmet. This seal would make the helmet and the rest of the pressurized suit continuous and closed. The helmet and the suit may both have been black.
I got mad at myself. All this time I had tried to act smart to impress the older man, who was like a General or an esteemed inventor. But now I turned to him and said, "Why do I always forget things like this?"
The old man said, "Don't worry about it. You just need more experience. I had similar troubles when I was younger."
Dream #4
I sat out in a wooded area, on a folding chair before a folding table like a TV-dinner table. I got a phone call. One of my boss BS' clients asked me about one of the companies we did research on. BS wasn't around, and I didn't want the client to go away empty-handed.
I put the client on hold. I didn't know whether anything new was happening with the company in question, though I knew the question had something to do with another company, a company called Northwest XXXXX (can't remember), possibly with them wanting to buy the company in question. But I couldn't turn on my computer to see what price the stocks for the two companies were trading at.
I just picked the phone back up and started speaking. I hoped I would know what I was saying. The client asked me more questions.
Now there were two men standing by me. They were both tall, in shape, maybe in their late thirties. They asked me more questions.
We were now in a car, driving in a suburban, residential area to a meeting with (the men's client? possibly a meeting with Northwest XXXXX?). I sat in the backseat. I was telling the men about how the difference between the first company in question and Northwest XXXXX was only marginal and how a deal with the two companies would only be of little benefit to Northwest XXXXX.
The clients said something like, "You're giving us a lot of information we normally wouldn't get from your boss." I felt flattered by the comment.
We pulled up to a (vanilla-yellow colored?) house. This was the office where our meeting would take place. I said, "I'm sorry I'm not dressed up." (I was just wearing jeans and a t-shirt.) "I wasn't expecting to do a meeting like this. You caught me off guard." I might have sounded apprehensive, or even a little annoyed. But I was really excited about the whole situation.
Dream #5
Some cartoon-like description of an aircraft. At some point the aircraft could fly on its own. There was an image of five aircraft below the main aircraft somehow being vaporized -- even with a "POOF!" caption. This would be the first time that the craft had flown on its own.
Dream #6
I read or heard something about photos that celebrities in the 1940s and 1950s didn't want people to see. I opened a book or turned a page to see one of the photos. It was of Ingrid Bergman in a Fallingwater-style house, in a hot tub with a blonde woman, getting ready to kiss the woman. Both women were fully dressed, and their clothes were completely dry. This photo was so shocking and scandalous to me that I slammed the book shut.
Dream #7
I stood in an aisle of a store like a K-Mart. I stood before a display of women's two-piece bathing suits. I tried on one of the bathing suits. I realized that the rule was to wear your underwear when you tried on bathing suits. I'd brought a pair of pink panties with me -- just in case I'd wanted to try anything on. I put the panties on.
There was a woman standing behind a desk, possibly in a place like the electronics department. She was watching me. I knew that was okay. She was just making sure I didn't steal anything. But I was hoping I would finish up before any customers came by and saw me.
I looked down at my body. I was disappointed. I looked a little fat.
I heard someone talk about some financial project to rebuild Las Vegas. My view descended to the left and down a steep dune of sand in which were embedded signs for casinos, like in the (at the time I entered the dream in my paper journal) new Resident Evil movie ads. I thought, That makes sense. Las Vegas is ready for a change.
I now saw a Taco Bell restaurant. It stood alone in a parking lot. It may have stood slanted. Its sign was shredded like it had been a tarp-like or awning-like sign hanging on the building. The inside had a weird, torn-to-pieces look as well, like the glass doors and windows were busted and swirling around.
I heard a narrator say, "All the work that went into creating this one store was destroyed in a very short time by the angered workers." I thought that this one store meant a lot to the operations of the overall company. Now it was gone.
I stood in line at a Taco Bell with my co-worker CJ. The line was all tall, white, overweight businessmen in suits. CJ was preparing a speech he would give when we got to the front of the line. I was hoping the speech wouldn't anger the workers or the people standing in line. CJ assured me it wouldn't. It was possibly about the need to rebuild the torn-to-pieces restaurant now that it had been destroyed.
The store in which we stood was dim. There seemed to be no seating area: the front area was entirely taken up by a belt-strap line-maze. The only other area was the cashier counter and the food-prep area. Dim natural light came in through the window. The cashiers stood on a platform maybe two feet in front of us. In front of us was a platform elevated maybe a foot from floor-level. CJ stood on that platform to give his speech.
Dream #2
I sat in a kind of dank, yellowish presentation room on a high floor of "my office building." A lot of people from "my work" were there. I sat somewhat in the back, toward the right wall. For some reason, maybe because I was slouching (or lying down?), I couldn't see to the front of the room.
A very important person, who worked for our company but who came from a different location, had come to speak. One of my senior colleagues from a different department of my company, maybe BSi, brought the man up to speak. The person may have had shaggy, red hair and a shaggy, red beard.
BSi said something to the effect of how much progress we'd made in our work. Someone's voice came on over the phone/intercom and made a snide comment about the internet, implying something about our company. BSi asked, "Could everybody listening in please mute their phones?"
The person on the phone/intercom interrupted, "No. We won't mute our phones. I'm not going to be quiet now." The person continued ranting. I was trying to figure out who he was. I knew I knew him, but I couldn't figure out who he was. He sounded laid back, not angry, but definitely like he was going to stand his ground.
I had the image in my mind of a tall, brown-haired frat-boy I knew in college. I told myself the person on the phone couldn't be this boy, because I didn't work with him nowadays. The person had to be someone I currently worked with.
A couple of my friends must have known who the person one the phone was. They stood up, walked toward me, somehow signaled they were going to the guy's desk office to stop him before things got worse, and left the room. I heard the man continue ranting. The last thing he said had to do with police putting handcuffs on him.
Dream #3
I sat on the floor and beside either a table or the back of a couch. I was speaking with someone like my old friend ML about preparations for some aircraft like an SR-71. Some man stood near me. I was saying things in hopes of impressing him. The man and I were in a room like a dining room. It had a messy feel somehow. ML stood just beyond a wide doorway into another room.
ML told me I had forgotten something for the pilots' helmets. I started fiddling with some criss-crosses of transparent tape on the tablecloth or sofa covering that seemed to be attached to black velvet. I asked what help the forgotten additions would be, anyway.
ML angrily said, "They'd help the pilots fly more comfortably!"
I could now see in my mind's eye that I had forgotten to add a seal to the helmet. This seal would make the helmet and the rest of the pressurized suit continuous and closed. The helmet and the suit may both have been black.
I got mad at myself. All this time I had tried to act smart to impress the older man, who was like a General or an esteemed inventor. But now I turned to him and said, "Why do I always forget things like this?"
The old man said, "Don't worry about it. You just need more experience. I had similar troubles when I was younger."
Dream #4
I sat out in a wooded area, on a folding chair before a folding table like a TV-dinner table. I got a phone call. One of my boss BS' clients asked me about one of the companies we did research on. BS wasn't around, and I didn't want the client to go away empty-handed.
I put the client on hold. I didn't know whether anything new was happening with the company in question, though I knew the question had something to do with another company, a company called Northwest XXXXX (can't remember), possibly with them wanting to buy the company in question. But I couldn't turn on my computer to see what price the stocks for the two companies were trading at.
I just picked the phone back up and started speaking. I hoped I would know what I was saying. The client asked me more questions.
Now there were two men standing by me. They were both tall, in shape, maybe in their late thirties. They asked me more questions.
We were now in a car, driving in a suburban, residential area to a meeting with (the men's client? possibly a meeting with Northwest XXXXX?). I sat in the backseat. I was telling the men about how the difference between the first company in question and Northwest XXXXX was only marginal and how a deal with the two companies would only be of little benefit to Northwest XXXXX.
The clients said something like, "You're giving us a lot of information we normally wouldn't get from your boss." I felt flattered by the comment.
We pulled up to a (vanilla-yellow colored?) house. This was the office where our meeting would take place. I said, "I'm sorry I'm not dressed up." (I was just wearing jeans and a t-shirt.) "I wasn't expecting to do a meeting like this. You caught me off guard." I might have sounded apprehensive, or even a little annoyed. But I was really excited about the whole situation.
Dream #5
Some cartoon-like description of an aircraft. At some point the aircraft could fly on its own. There was an image of five aircraft below the main aircraft somehow being vaporized -- even with a "POOF!" caption. This would be the first time that the craft had flown on its own.
Dream #6
I read or heard something about photos that celebrities in the 1940s and 1950s didn't want people to see. I opened a book or turned a page to see one of the photos. It was of Ingrid Bergman in a Fallingwater-style house, in a hot tub with a blonde woman, getting ready to kiss the woman. Both women were fully dressed, and their clothes were completely dry. This photo was so shocking and scandalous to me that I slammed the book shut.
Dream #7
I stood in an aisle of a store like a K-Mart. I stood before a display of women's two-piece bathing suits. I tried on one of the bathing suits. I realized that the rule was to wear your underwear when you tried on bathing suits. I'd brought a pair of pink panties with me -- just in case I'd wanted to try anything on. I put the panties on.
There was a woman standing behind a desk, possibly in a place like the electronics department. She was watching me. I knew that was okay. She was just making sure I didn't steal anything. But I was hoping I would finish up before any customers came by and saw me.
I looked down at my body. I was disappointed. I looked a little fat.
(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.)
(9/8/07) drama on an aircraft carrier
(Entered in paper journal at 7:50 AM at Ozzie's cafe on Seventh Avenue and Lincoln Place in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I sat outside a house (in the woods?) with my co-worker ES. ES told me that a woman who had just been by had really impressed her, but that ES felt like she must not have been impressive to the woman. I listened as I sat on a four-foot-long log. There were a few other logs lying around. The day was calm and grey.
ES walked behind me and off to my right, where there may have been a couple vehicles like old Ford Broncos. ES continued speaking about the beautiful girl (whom I saw in my mind's eye as tall and blonde). ES said, "She just has everything: she's beautiful, she's smart, she's nice. I hope she knows how much I appreciate that." It suddenly dawned on me that ES was in love with this woman.
I stood at a lawn in front of a building like a long house or like my old high school. The day was still grey, though now it was a little windier. There were a lot of people outside with me. Most were men. It was like people were coming out of a movie.
A little verbal conflict started and finished quickly between two short, Mexican men and a tall, white man. Now everybody was gone. I stood by myself thinking, Those two kids are going to come by to find that man and make him pay for fighting with them. I couldn't remember now whether I was the white man. It felt eerie outside all alone in the grey breeze waiting, presumably, for some carload of kids to come by and shoot me.
I stood inside an almost empty house. The house was like the house I lived from about my sixth grade to ninth grade years of school. I was in the living room. Off to my back and right the room seemed to have opened into a hallway for a larger building like a community building or a large church which could also serve as a community building. In front of the front window of the living room stood a table with a lot of food on it.
I milled around the room, possibly waiting for a woman to get finished at a presentation or a movie. I was still afraid of the two kids and their friends coming after me. But I was also disappointed that I had "pulled" myself out of the range of their fire (apparently by shifting scenes).
I looked a little through the food on the table. Some cups on the windowsill caught my attention. I felt like there was a sweet, warm liquid in them. That was what I wanted. But as I grabbed the cup I felt like maybe I shouldn't take it, that maybe people were watching me and my taking food would only confirm to them what a "waster" or "grubber" I was.
I took the cup anyway, but when I looked inside I saw that all there was was some thin layer of grimy, pale-brown, translucent, sludgy material dotted with little, white, goopy chunks. It smelled almost too sweet. I thought, This isn't what I was looking for.
I thought I had picked up something diseased. I worried whether touching the cup would also make me diseased. But now I looked back in the cup. The material inside was just dry, powdered hot chocolate with tiny, dry marshmallows. I thought, Oh, it was just hot chocolate mix after all. Still, it wasn't the drink I'd wanted.
I sat in a room with my friend R, his fiancee L, and a couple other people. The room was large, and the table we sat at took up most of it. It was low to the ground, circular, and made of dark, dark wood. We sat on various items, but not regular chairs, which would have been too tall for the table. We all spoke about something that made me ashamed. It may have been about work or about me leaving work.
I stood on the deck (?) of an aircraft carrier. I stood before two men, both of high rank (for the Navy?). One stood directly in front of me; the other before me and to my right. To my left was a grey aircraft which, as I looked at it, I tried to identify by sorting through aircraft images in my mind. Finally my mind locked on something like an SR-71.
The man in front of me waved his right arm toward the craft and told me that everybody felt I should be the one to make the last flight of this craft. I felt honored in a very relaxed, understated way.
The jet was now in a small space that seemed to have been formed to fit only this craft. The space matched the contours of the jet and extended out only a few feet on all sides. The surrounding material seemed to be thick stucco or concrete, round, like the walls of a Spanish building or catacombs (?), not like the inside of an aircraft carrier (?).
The two high-ranking Navy men and I stood before the jet. The two men were joking about some movie, which I didn't figure out until later was Top Gun. I now knelt, as the men kept joking about the "unreality" of the movie, by the left underside of the craft, near the wing.
I stuck my head into the small gap between the undercarriage of the jet and the wall of the space. I turned my head in a strange way and, trying to pull my head back out of the gap, found I couldn't. I was panicked for a moment. But then I turned my head and came back out of the gap with no trouble. As I was doing this the two men were joking about some place name, something that started with a "B" but was always mistaken "in the movie" to start with a "G."
I could see the glass (?) dome of the cockpit, which had tan pieces of tape holding white, washer-shaped, paper circles to the window.
I may have tapped (somehow -- I wasn't in the cockpit) on the glass and remembered the flip-off scene from the beginning of Top Gun.
Now the jet pilot was getting ready to fly. I heard some people talking to the pilot as I (disembodied?) looked out over brightly rolling waves underneath a hot, blue sky. The waves would surge in a white blaze of sun reflections and then trough in fading, brilliant, deep blue.
One man told the pilot, "I never thought anything yo did was ridiculous. I was just a little jealous. But now that you're making this flight," (which was now going to keep the pilot away from home for a long, long time) "I want you to know how you important I think it is and how good it is that you are doing it."
I could see that the jet was going to launch from a hole in the front and midsection of the aircraft carrier.
I may have been flying with another person. We flew through a bunch of clutter floating on the water. We were near a tall wall of concrete, like at the edge of a river.
As we flew past one piece of clutter, a yellow, metal, rectangular "box," maybe fifty feet long, probably lying on a waterlogged, wooden barge, the person I flew with said something like, "Perhaps while you're there, they'll even let you open the research box." I knew the research box was this yellow box. It was stuffed with a grimy, smelly, sludgy matter. It was like decomposed garbage, I thought. I thought, Why would I want to open something like that?
I stood on a ledge of the tall wall. The front of the aircraft carrier faced an end of the ledge. The pilot and other people could load into the carrier from the ledge. A lot of other people were on the ledge, which may have been about twenty feet wide. The people were having a sort of "bon voyage party" for the pilot. The only person I could pick out in the crowd was a skinny, brown-haired girl.
A young man, maybe in his early twenties, though he seemed to be only about three feet tall, came up to me and in a panic cried, "I'm going to do it! I'm going to do this to myself!"
I recognized the young man from somewhere, possibly as one of the people who had been milling around after the movie earlier on. I knew that I had known the man (from wherever) as a self-centered boy who generally requited no attention, although he felt like he always had it, and that that produced an uneasy sensation in people, so that, he felt, people generally stayed away from him.
The young man had been engrossed in some mechanical science project. But now everybody was watching this pilot go off, and the young man had to accept that nobody was paying attention to him. This fact put the young man in a suicidal frenzy, apparently. The young man came to me with a screwdriver and a chain like the thin chain of a cheap, backyard swingset. The chain was black. The screwdriver, Phillips-head, had a clear handle with red markings in the grip ridges.
The young man made it clear he was going to kill himself, and that he would try with the second instrument he held if he didn't succeed with the first. (The screwdriver may have been the first instrument.) The young man may have been trying to run into the launch area to do this to himself.
I grabbed the young man and yelled, "Don't you know you have no right to do this right now? Everybody is here to give this man support! He is going somewhere and leaving everything he knows behind for a very long time! For years! And we are all trying to support him in a moment that is probably very scary and sad for him!"
The young man lost his frenzied look about halfway through my speech. He then took on an aghast look, which broke into a lost look of regret, like the young man couldn't believe he'd acted so selfishly. Then he broke down crying, in sympathy with the man for the scariness and loneliness of the journey he would be going on. The man might at this time have had a face like that of a classic grey alien.
Dream #1
I sat outside a house (in the woods?) with my co-worker ES. ES told me that a woman who had just been by had really impressed her, but that ES felt like she must not have been impressive to the woman. I listened as I sat on a four-foot-long log. There were a few other logs lying around. The day was calm and grey.
ES walked behind me and off to my right, where there may have been a couple vehicles like old Ford Broncos. ES continued speaking about the beautiful girl (whom I saw in my mind's eye as tall and blonde). ES said, "She just has everything: she's beautiful, she's smart, she's nice. I hope she knows how much I appreciate that." It suddenly dawned on me that ES was in love with this woman.
I stood at a lawn in front of a building like a long house or like my old high school. The day was still grey, though now it was a little windier. There were a lot of people outside with me. Most were men. It was like people were coming out of a movie.
A little verbal conflict started and finished quickly between two short, Mexican men and a tall, white man. Now everybody was gone. I stood by myself thinking, Those two kids are going to come by to find that man and make him pay for fighting with them. I couldn't remember now whether I was the white man. It felt eerie outside all alone in the grey breeze waiting, presumably, for some carload of kids to come by and shoot me.
I stood inside an almost empty house. The house was like the house I lived from about my sixth grade to ninth grade years of school. I was in the living room. Off to my back and right the room seemed to have opened into a hallway for a larger building like a community building or a large church which could also serve as a community building. In front of the front window of the living room stood a table with a lot of food on it.
I milled around the room, possibly waiting for a woman to get finished at a presentation or a movie. I was still afraid of the two kids and their friends coming after me. But I was also disappointed that I had "pulled" myself out of the range of their fire (apparently by shifting scenes).
I looked a little through the food on the table. Some cups on the windowsill caught my attention. I felt like there was a sweet, warm liquid in them. That was what I wanted. But as I grabbed the cup I felt like maybe I shouldn't take it, that maybe people were watching me and my taking food would only confirm to them what a "waster" or "grubber" I was.
I took the cup anyway, but when I looked inside I saw that all there was was some thin layer of grimy, pale-brown, translucent, sludgy material dotted with little, white, goopy chunks. It smelled almost too sweet. I thought, This isn't what I was looking for.
I thought I had picked up something diseased. I worried whether touching the cup would also make me diseased. But now I looked back in the cup. The material inside was just dry, powdered hot chocolate with tiny, dry marshmallows. I thought, Oh, it was just hot chocolate mix after all. Still, it wasn't the drink I'd wanted.
I sat in a room with my friend R, his fiancee L, and a couple other people. The room was large, and the table we sat at took up most of it. It was low to the ground, circular, and made of dark, dark wood. We sat on various items, but not regular chairs, which would have been too tall for the table. We all spoke about something that made me ashamed. It may have been about work or about me leaving work.
I stood on the deck (?) of an aircraft carrier. I stood before two men, both of high rank (for the Navy?). One stood directly in front of me; the other before me and to my right. To my left was a grey aircraft which, as I looked at it, I tried to identify by sorting through aircraft images in my mind. Finally my mind locked on something like an SR-71.
The man in front of me waved his right arm toward the craft and told me that everybody felt I should be the one to make the last flight of this craft. I felt honored in a very relaxed, understated way.
The jet was now in a small space that seemed to have been formed to fit only this craft. The space matched the contours of the jet and extended out only a few feet on all sides. The surrounding material seemed to be thick stucco or concrete, round, like the walls of a Spanish building or catacombs (?), not like the inside of an aircraft carrier (?).
The two high-ranking Navy men and I stood before the jet. The two men were joking about some movie, which I didn't figure out until later was Top Gun. I now knelt, as the men kept joking about the "unreality" of the movie, by the left underside of the craft, near the wing.
I stuck my head into the small gap between the undercarriage of the jet and the wall of the space. I turned my head in a strange way and, trying to pull my head back out of the gap, found I couldn't. I was panicked for a moment. But then I turned my head and came back out of the gap with no trouble. As I was doing this the two men were joking about some place name, something that started with a "B" but was always mistaken "in the movie" to start with a "G."
I could see the glass (?) dome of the cockpit, which had tan pieces of tape holding white, washer-shaped, paper circles to the window.
I may have tapped (somehow -- I wasn't in the cockpit) on the glass and remembered the flip-off scene from the beginning of Top Gun.
Now the jet pilot was getting ready to fly. I heard some people talking to the pilot as I (disembodied?) looked out over brightly rolling waves underneath a hot, blue sky. The waves would surge in a white blaze of sun reflections and then trough in fading, brilliant, deep blue.
One man told the pilot, "I never thought anything yo did was ridiculous. I was just a little jealous. But now that you're making this flight," (which was now going to keep the pilot away from home for a long, long time) "I want you to know how you important I think it is and how good it is that you are doing it."
I could see that the jet was going to launch from a hole in the front and midsection of the aircraft carrier.
I may have been flying with another person. We flew through a bunch of clutter floating on the water. We were near a tall wall of concrete, like at the edge of a river.
As we flew past one piece of clutter, a yellow, metal, rectangular "box," maybe fifty feet long, probably lying on a waterlogged, wooden barge, the person I flew with said something like, "Perhaps while you're there, they'll even let you open the research box." I knew the research box was this yellow box. It was stuffed with a grimy, smelly, sludgy matter. It was like decomposed garbage, I thought. I thought, Why would I want to open something like that?
I stood on a ledge of the tall wall. The front of the aircraft carrier faced an end of the ledge. The pilot and other people could load into the carrier from the ledge. A lot of other people were on the ledge, which may have been about twenty feet wide. The people were having a sort of "bon voyage party" for the pilot. The only person I could pick out in the crowd was a skinny, brown-haired girl.
A young man, maybe in his early twenties, though he seemed to be only about three feet tall, came up to me and in a panic cried, "I'm going to do it! I'm going to do this to myself!"
I recognized the young man from somewhere, possibly as one of the people who had been milling around after the movie earlier on. I knew that I had known the man (from wherever) as a self-centered boy who generally requited no attention, although he felt like he always had it, and that that produced an uneasy sensation in people, so that, he felt, people generally stayed away from him.
The young man had been engrossed in some mechanical science project. But now everybody was watching this pilot go off, and the young man had to accept that nobody was paying attention to him. This fact put the young man in a suicidal frenzy, apparently. The young man came to me with a screwdriver and a chain like the thin chain of a cheap, backyard swingset. The chain was black. The screwdriver, Phillips-head, had a clear handle with red markings in the grip ridges.
The young man made it clear he was going to kill himself, and that he would try with the second instrument he held if he didn't succeed with the first. (The screwdriver may have been the first instrument.) The young man may have been trying to run into the launch area to do this to himself.
I grabbed the young man and yelled, "Don't you know you have no right to do this right now? Everybody is here to give this man support! He is going somewhere and leaving everything he knows behind for a very long time! For years! And we are all trying to support him in a moment that is probably very scary and sad for him!"
The young man lost his frenzied look about halfway through my speech. He then took on an aghast look, which broke into a lost look of regret, like the young man couldn't believe he'd acted so selfishly. Then he broke down crying, in sympathy with the man for the scariness and loneliness of the journey he would be going on. The man might at this time have had a face like that of a classic grey alien.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
(11/13/07) missed the flight
(Entered in paper journal at 5:20 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I stood outside on a clear day, possibly with a large group of people, and possibly by a large body of water. I saw a large, grey aircraft like a B-52. Attached to the underside of the aircraft, near the tail (?), were an X-15 and an SR-71. The SR-71 may have been blue like a Blue Angels jet. I excitedly pointed the jets out to the rest of my group.
We were down on some concrete walkway. The large craft (which now had a strange, thin-bodied appearance, like an aircraft carrier) stood above us. I thought I might get into the X-15 or the SR-71.
But now the craft rolled away. I knew it had stopped taking passengers and was now getting ready to lift off. I had missed my chance.
I traveled up to a nearby hilltop with the people around me to watch the jet fly away. The hilltop was largely dark, clumpy, basaltic rock, with some patches of grass.
Dream #1
I stood outside on a clear day, possibly with a large group of people, and possibly by a large body of water. I saw a large, grey aircraft like a B-52. Attached to the underside of the aircraft, near the tail (?), were an X-15 and an SR-71. The SR-71 may have been blue like a Blue Angels jet. I excitedly pointed the jets out to the rest of my group.
We were down on some concrete walkway. The large craft (which now had a strange, thin-bodied appearance, like an aircraft carrier) stood above us. I thought I might get into the X-15 or the SR-71.
But now the craft rolled away. I knew it had stopped taking passengers and was now getting ready to lift off. I had missed my chance.
I traveled up to a nearby hilltop with the people around me to watch the jet fly away. The hilltop was largely dark, clumpy, basaltic rock, with some patches of grass.
(11/20/07) celebrity assistant; blackbird lucid
(Entered in paper journal at 5:20 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I walked through the lobby of a nice, modern building with an Asian woman. The woman was pretty, but a little overweight. She told me she worked with my company's economist, ML. I thought that was neat. Suddenly I remembered a news article or TV story saying ML had often had the sole audience of the former Fed chairman.
The woman and I stood in the elevator. We were going up. I asked the woman, "Doesn't it ever seem weird to be working with such a famous person? Do people ever treat you weird?"
The elevator opened on the woman's floor. The woman giggled and shook her head. She walked out. I thought I had probably said something kind of dumb to the woman. I had wanted to be friends with her. Now she probably just thought I wanted to advance my career.
Dream #2
I got onto a bus with a line of people. I sat in the second row of the bus. A man who had been in front of me in line sat in the front row. He was black, with lightish skin. He was tall, with a scraggly beard and wide, frizzy hair. He looked mean. The second row felt tight, like the seat back from the first row was pushing into my space.
The bu drove along a river or wide body of water (to our left). Before the river were small warehousing or industrial areas. I sat a jet like an SR-71 Blackbird glide over the water. It moved slowly. It came closer and was now large in my view.
I didn't know the man in front of me. I was pretty sure he didn't like me. But I knocked on the seat-back and said, "Blackbird! Blackbird!"
The man said, "I don't want to see it. I don't want to know what's happening if something like that is flying again."
The Blackbird was pointed at maybe seventy-five degrees, its underside facing us. It may have been only one hundred feet above us. It had a weird, thin, twisted shape. There was a lot more red lining on it than I was familiar with there being.
The Blackbird lifted slowly in the air and then clattered down onto its back in one of the industrial lots. I thought the man meant, when he said he didn't want to know why a Blackbird was flying, that he didn't want to know that a nuclear war was approaching. I thought, seeing the Blackbird lying on its back (the Blackbird having skidded across the lot as if it were just a hollow shell), that if it had a nuclear bomb on board, the crash might have agitated the bomb so that the bomb would go off soon.
I looked away almost flinchingly. But by then we had pretty much passed the jet. I thought, It's strange, isn't it?, that I should see something like that. This is a dream.
At first I couldn't believe it: everything felt so real. But I thought, To see if it is a dream, I should just shout out that it is. I pounded on the seat back and window and yelled, "This is a dream! This is a dream!"
I decided to control my own actions. I would go back to the plane. I stood up. Everything faded out, as if I were waking up or going out of the dream. I tried to keep myself aware. I walked to the back of the bus. I couldn't see where I was going. I couldn't tell whether I was dreaming or just imagining.
I got to the back of the bus. Right behind the bus, I knew, was an SR-71 Blackbird that was being towed along on a truck. I moved through the back of the bus (i.e. through the material of a door that was in the wall of the back of the bus, then kick-pushed off the back of the bus, like a swimmer would kick-push off a wall, to fly/swim to the hatch for the cockpit of the jet.
Dream #1
I walked through the lobby of a nice, modern building with an Asian woman. The woman was pretty, but a little overweight. She told me she worked with my company's economist, ML. I thought that was neat. Suddenly I remembered a news article or TV story saying ML had often had the sole audience of the former Fed chairman.
The woman and I stood in the elevator. We were going up. I asked the woman, "Doesn't it ever seem weird to be working with such a famous person? Do people ever treat you weird?"
The elevator opened on the woman's floor. The woman giggled and shook her head. She walked out. I thought I had probably said something kind of dumb to the woman. I had wanted to be friends with her. Now she probably just thought I wanted to advance my career.
Dream #2
I got onto a bus with a line of people. I sat in the second row of the bus. A man who had been in front of me in line sat in the front row. He was black, with lightish skin. He was tall, with a scraggly beard and wide, frizzy hair. He looked mean. The second row felt tight, like the seat back from the first row was pushing into my space.
The bu drove along a river or wide body of water (to our left). Before the river were small warehousing or industrial areas. I sat a jet like an SR-71 Blackbird glide over the water. It moved slowly. It came closer and was now large in my view.
I didn't know the man in front of me. I was pretty sure he didn't like me. But I knocked on the seat-back and said, "Blackbird! Blackbird!"
The man said, "I don't want to see it. I don't want to know what's happening if something like that is flying again."
The Blackbird was pointed at maybe seventy-five degrees, its underside facing us. It may have been only one hundred feet above us. It had a weird, thin, twisted shape. There was a lot more red lining on it than I was familiar with there being.
The Blackbird lifted slowly in the air and then clattered down onto its back in one of the industrial lots. I thought the man meant, when he said he didn't want to know why a Blackbird was flying, that he didn't want to know that a nuclear war was approaching. I thought, seeing the Blackbird lying on its back (the Blackbird having skidded across the lot as if it were just a hollow shell), that if it had a nuclear bomb on board, the crash might have agitated the bomb so that the bomb would go off soon.
I looked away almost flinchingly. But by then we had pretty much passed the jet. I thought, It's strange, isn't it?, that I should see something like that. This is a dream.
At first I couldn't believe it: everything felt so real. But I thought, To see if it is a dream, I should just shout out that it is. I pounded on the seat back and window and yelled, "This is a dream! This is a dream!"
I decided to control my own actions. I would go back to the plane. I stood up. Everything faded out, as if I were waking up or going out of the dream. I tried to keep myself aware. I walked to the back of the bus. I couldn't see where I was going. I couldn't tell whether I was dreaming or just imagining.
I got to the back of the bus. Right behind the bus, I knew, was an SR-71 Blackbird that was being towed along on a truck. I moved through the back of the bus (i.e. through the material of a door that was in the wall of the back of the bus, then kick-pushed off the back of the bus, like a swimmer would kick-push off a wall, to fly/swim to the hatch for the cockpit of the jet.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
(3/16/08) flying accident; stalking and flying; military forgetfulness; construction event; blue room; out of here
(Entered in paper journal at 8:11 AM at "laundromat" -- possibly the Clean Rite laundromat on Empire Boulevard and Montgomery Street in Brooklyn?)
Dream #1
I was in a vehicle like a bus or a big van that may have been driven by my mom. We drove through some area like a military base at night. At times the light was like moonlight. At other times it was like streetlamp light. We drove past a couple rows of jets like SR-71s with the angularity of F-117s.
I told my mom I had to go somewhere before I went to bed. But my mom told me to go straight to be so I wouldn't be tired for flying the next day.
I had a view of the next day. I had been flying a jet. When I was aiming straight up in the air, some accident occurred which had killed two copilots who had sat behind me. I tried to convince myself that the accident hadn't been my fault and that it hadn't happened due to the fact that I had flown tired.
Dream #2
I was in the lobby of a theater building in a university. Some show was wrapped up for the night. Only my co-worker BR and I were left in the lobby, which was half lit. I told BR congratulations, that he had done a good job (I had been an audience member). Then my senior co-worker, and BR's old boss, RO, came out. I told RO congratulations as well.
I didn't want to take up BR's or RO's time, so I quickly walked out the door. RO followed. I didn't want RO to think that I was tagging along after him, so I hurried down the steps down to the sidewalk, even sliding down the railing toward the end. It was night and raining. Cars lined the curbs, and there were a few people walking around.
I ran forward and thrust my right fist before me. I wondered why I would do a move as childish as that. Suddenly I was flying. I flew across the road and over into an area like a densely wooded park.
My eyes got more and more clouded by the rain. I could barely open my eyes. I couldn't quite believe I was flying. I thought I should direct myself back home, just to give myself a focus so I wouldn't lose my flight through excitement. But with my eyes closed I wasn't even sure what direction I was headed in. I knew I was flying over an area like a cemetery in my hometown.
I forced myself to open my eyes. I was suddenly in the backseat of an SUV. My mom drove. It was night and raining. We wee on a moderately busy highway, about to turn off onto an exit. My mom explained how we had gone slightly out of the way to get onto this highway, which could get us home much more quickly.
Dream #3
I was walking out of a place like a coliseum at night, probably with my mom.We had seen a presentation by a man who was praised for his moral strength. We walked through the dim foyer or front outside area, walking through bars of orange light pouring through from the inside from windows on the doors.
I remembered my cousin T talking about how anything that made him a good man had come from his experience in the Army. I felt bad that I hadn't gone into military service. But then I thought, Did T ever go into the Army? I don't remember that. Am I that out of touch with my families' lives?
My mom and I were outside in the dark and the dim, orange streetlamp light. A wet snow was falling. I thought, Hasn't my mom always said that she was pregnant with me when she went to Army boot camp? So I guess I have been in the Army! My mom and I walked into the doors of another arena.
Dream #4
I was in the hallway of a building like a high school building. I had walked out of one of the classrooms. The place was busy with people from my work. Most of the people stood before another classroom.
I saw my co-worker JC close by. I felt that JC had snubbed me at some point. I didn't want to see her. I was still mad at her. I instinctively sighed, "Oh, no!" when I saw her.
I walked into a bathroom nearby, to avoid JC. The bathroom was huge. It had the look of a warehouse. I stood there for a moment, thinking of how immaturely I had just acted toward JC.
I now stood outside during the daytime. I was on a pale-soiled, deserty hill. A group of workers were digging a trench and building a system of pipes, which was above and beside the trench (?). There were two or three pipes on top of one another, supported at points by concrete slabs. I took a lot of interest in this work.
I now stood on another hill, looking down on a running track of red, synthetic material, maybe two hundred feet below. All around the track the ground was torn up, and up on the hill where I stood the ground was similarly upturned.
Behind me and to my left were a small group of women who may have been talking about JC. I tried not to listen to anything they said. I knew that an event important to JC, in the creation of which JC had taken part, would soon occur.
I had wanted to watch the event and to monitor the progress of the construction around the track. But now I thought I would stay away. My idea was to start walking the circuit I stood on at the top of the hill. I hoped it would take me long enough (in the distance it went down another hill and presumably took a short tour through a mountain range) so that by the time I got back, JC's event would be over.
But now an older man, someone like a supervisor of mine, came up to the group. He was tallish, thinnish, wiry, and white with reddish skin. He wore a khaki shirt and slacks, a tan cap, and black sunglasses. I didn't want the man to think I was here following JC, i.e. that I was here because I knew that JC would soon be here. I thought that would make the man think I was dangerous, like a stalker.
So I commented on the construction around the track. The man then commented on the construction of a nearby house. Only the foundation of the house had been laid. I told the man that the family (my family?) who would live in that house was fine where they were right now, in some place like a trailer set up on a frame like a folding bed frame.
The man and I now stood before this place. The man told me to kneel and look at the shelter. The man pointed out how weak the frame was. Almost crying, he said, "If a strong wind comes up -- and it'll happen! -- this frame will fold up and smash the family flat!"
(A break in the entry. I then resumed writing at 10:35 AM at the Flying Saucer cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #5
A boy and a mother stood in a deep-blue-lit living room, panicking as if they were drowning in a room full of water. Then suddenly they stood in a bathroom (the living room still visible) lit with regular incandescent light. The boy and mother were breathing regularly. I wondered (as if I were the boy) why the boy and mother had been so panicked.
Dream #6
I sat at a computer looking at a bunch of random scenes. The room I was in, maybe an office, was dim. One of my friends stood behind me, looking at the things I was looking at.
At some point the office was light again. It now looked like a science lab. On the computer screen were moving images of equipment in a room below us, which was also visible through a window in front of us.
One of the heads of my department, RF, walked up on my left side and pulled my mouse out of its socket. He sat back in a chair behind me. I turned my chair to see RF. RF said, "Did you think you'd get away with still working here? Did you think we wouldn't know you've already accepted an offer somewhere else? You're out of here!"
Dream #1
I was in a vehicle like a bus or a big van that may have been driven by my mom. We drove through some area like a military base at night. At times the light was like moonlight. At other times it was like streetlamp light. We drove past a couple rows of jets like SR-71s with the angularity of F-117s.
I told my mom I had to go somewhere before I went to bed. But my mom told me to go straight to be so I wouldn't be tired for flying the next day.
I had a view of the next day. I had been flying a jet. When I was aiming straight up in the air, some accident occurred which had killed two copilots who had sat behind me. I tried to convince myself that the accident hadn't been my fault and that it hadn't happened due to the fact that I had flown tired.
Dream #2
I was in the lobby of a theater building in a university. Some show was wrapped up for the night. Only my co-worker BR and I were left in the lobby, which was half lit. I told BR congratulations, that he had done a good job (I had been an audience member). Then my senior co-worker, and BR's old boss, RO, came out. I told RO congratulations as well.
I didn't want to take up BR's or RO's time, so I quickly walked out the door. RO followed. I didn't want RO to think that I was tagging along after him, so I hurried down the steps down to the sidewalk, even sliding down the railing toward the end. It was night and raining. Cars lined the curbs, and there were a few people walking around.
I ran forward and thrust my right fist before me. I wondered why I would do a move as childish as that. Suddenly I was flying. I flew across the road and over into an area like a densely wooded park.
My eyes got more and more clouded by the rain. I could barely open my eyes. I couldn't quite believe I was flying. I thought I should direct myself back home, just to give myself a focus so I wouldn't lose my flight through excitement. But with my eyes closed I wasn't even sure what direction I was headed in. I knew I was flying over an area like a cemetery in my hometown.
I forced myself to open my eyes. I was suddenly in the backseat of an SUV. My mom drove. It was night and raining. We wee on a moderately busy highway, about to turn off onto an exit. My mom explained how we had gone slightly out of the way to get onto this highway, which could get us home much more quickly.
Dream #3
I was walking out of a place like a coliseum at night, probably with my mom.We had seen a presentation by a man who was praised for his moral strength. We walked through the dim foyer or front outside area, walking through bars of orange light pouring through from the inside from windows on the doors.
I remembered my cousin T talking about how anything that made him a good man had come from his experience in the Army. I felt bad that I hadn't gone into military service. But then I thought, Did T ever go into the Army? I don't remember that. Am I that out of touch with my families' lives?
My mom and I were outside in the dark and the dim, orange streetlamp light. A wet snow was falling. I thought, Hasn't my mom always said that she was pregnant with me when she went to Army boot camp? So I guess I have been in the Army! My mom and I walked into the doors of another arena.
Dream #4
I was in the hallway of a building like a high school building. I had walked out of one of the classrooms. The place was busy with people from my work. Most of the people stood before another classroom.
I saw my co-worker JC close by. I felt that JC had snubbed me at some point. I didn't want to see her. I was still mad at her. I instinctively sighed, "Oh, no!" when I saw her.
I walked into a bathroom nearby, to avoid JC. The bathroom was huge. It had the look of a warehouse. I stood there for a moment, thinking of how immaturely I had just acted toward JC.
I now stood outside during the daytime. I was on a pale-soiled, deserty hill. A group of workers were digging a trench and building a system of pipes, which was above and beside the trench (?). There were two or three pipes on top of one another, supported at points by concrete slabs. I took a lot of interest in this work.
I now stood on another hill, looking down on a running track of red, synthetic material, maybe two hundred feet below. All around the track the ground was torn up, and up on the hill where I stood the ground was similarly upturned.
Behind me and to my left were a small group of women who may have been talking about JC. I tried not to listen to anything they said. I knew that an event important to JC, in the creation of which JC had taken part, would soon occur.
I had wanted to watch the event and to monitor the progress of the construction around the track. But now I thought I would stay away. My idea was to start walking the circuit I stood on at the top of the hill. I hoped it would take me long enough (in the distance it went down another hill and presumably took a short tour through a mountain range) so that by the time I got back, JC's event would be over.
But now an older man, someone like a supervisor of mine, came up to the group. He was tallish, thinnish, wiry, and white with reddish skin. He wore a khaki shirt and slacks, a tan cap, and black sunglasses. I didn't want the man to think I was here following JC, i.e. that I was here because I knew that JC would soon be here. I thought that would make the man think I was dangerous, like a stalker.
So I commented on the construction around the track. The man then commented on the construction of a nearby house. Only the foundation of the house had been laid. I told the man that the family (my family?) who would live in that house was fine where they were right now, in some place like a trailer set up on a frame like a folding bed frame.
The man and I now stood before this place. The man told me to kneel and look at the shelter. The man pointed out how weak the frame was. Almost crying, he said, "If a strong wind comes up -- and it'll happen! -- this frame will fold up and smash the family flat!"
(A break in the entry. I then resumed writing at 10:35 AM at the Flying Saucer cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #5
A boy and a mother stood in a deep-blue-lit living room, panicking as if they were drowning in a room full of water. Then suddenly they stood in a bathroom (the living room still visible) lit with regular incandescent light. The boy and mother were breathing regularly. I wondered (as if I were the boy) why the boy and mother had been so panicked.
Dream #6
I sat at a computer looking at a bunch of random scenes. The room I was in, maybe an office, was dim. One of my friends stood behind me, looking at the things I was looking at.
At some point the office was light again. It now looked like a science lab. On the computer screen were moving images of equipment in a room below us, which was also visible through a window in front of us.
One of the heads of my department, RF, walked up on my left side and pulled my mouse out of its socket. He sat back in a chair behind me. I turned my chair to see RF. RF said, "Did you think you'd get away with still working here? Did you think we wouldn't know you've already accepted an offer somewhere else? You're out of here!"
Sunday, January 6, 2013
(9/30/08) wrong side of road; gurgling bathtub; maine and nevada
(Entered in paper journal at 6:17 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was in a car being driven by my brother. We were driving along a snowy, rural road in the daytime. At one point we drove past an SR-71 mounted on a concrete platform. I was excited to see it. The cockpits were open. My brother and I looked back as we passed the jet, trying to get a deeper look.
When I looked forward, I saw that my brother had steered us into the other lane, and that we were about to run head-on into another car, probably a pickup truck. I told my brother to look forward and steer back into one lane. He did. I noticed there were a few cars on the road. We later turned onto another road, which may have led up a mountain.
Dream #2
I was in my house. I heard my bathtub gurgling. (It constantly did this in waking life, sending water from upstairs down into my bathtub.) I decided to go in and turn on the water to stop all the junk from popping up the drain again. I might have gone in and noticed nothing was going to start flooding up through the drain.
I headed into my hallway. The hallway was full of white, plastic and paper bags filled with trash. Some of the bags were almost as tall as I. I might have opened a bag and eaten something in it as I mulled over some thought.
The light in the house might have been orange and gold, like at sunrise or sunset.
Dream #3
I was looking at a huge picture book. I thought of the picture book as something like a map, showing places where I would go. I was turning the pages to get to my next destination which I knew was Maine.
But now I noticed my old friend R sitting beside me, to my left. I didn't want him to see and know my next destination. So I turned the pages slowly, hoping he'd lose interest and go away. But now he turned the pages quickly.
R turned past a page that interested me. I stopped him. I went back to the interesting page. It had a picture of two gigantic stones in the red sandstone desert. But the stones were actually two gigantic headstones. The photo was in sepia tones.
I felt like I had been to this place before. But I didn't want to remember it (or to face the thought of going there again) -- the headstones seemed so maddeningly frightening, like they could fall and smash you, even though they were already lying relatively flat to the ground.
I turned another page. It had a sepia photo of a desert canyon covered lightly in snow. I stopped at this photo and, hoping I could fool R, said, "Oh! Nevada! This is it! This is where I'm going!"
Dream #1
I was in a car being driven by my brother. We were driving along a snowy, rural road in the daytime. At one point we drove past an SR-71 mounted on a concrete platform. I was excited to see it. The cockpits were open. My brother and I looked back as we passed the jet, trying to get a deeper look.
When I looked forward, I saw that my brother had steered us into the other lane, and that we were about to run head-on into another car, probably a pickup truck. I told my brother to look forward and steer back into one lane. He did. I noticed there were a few cars on the road. We later turned onto another road, which may have led up a mountain.
Dream #2
I was in my house. I heard my bathtub gurgling. (It constantly did this in waking life, sending water from upstairs down into my bathtub.) I decided to go in and turn on the water to stop all the junk from popping up the drain again. I might have gone in and noticed nothing was going to start flooding up through the drain.
I headed into my hallway. The hallway was full of white, plastic and paper bags filled with trash. Some of the bags were almost as tall as I. I might have opened a bag and eaten something in it as I mulled over some thought.
The light in the house might have been orange and gold, like at sunrise or sunset.
Dream #3
I was looking at a huge picture book. I thought of the picture book as something like a map, showing places where I would go. I was turning the pages to get to my next destination which I knew was Maine.
But now I noticed my old friend R sitting beside me, to my left. I didn't want him to see and know my next destination. So I turned the pages slowly, hoping he'd lose interest and go away. But now he turned the pages quickly.
R turned past a page that interested me. I stopped him. I went back to the interesting page. It had a picture of two gigantic stones in the red sandstone desert. But the stones were actually two gigantic headstones. The photo was in sepia tones.
I felt like I had been to this place before. But I didn't want to remember it (or to face the thought of going there again) -- the headstones seemed so maddeningly frightening, like they could fall and smash you, even though they were already lying relatively flat to the ground.
I turned another page. It had a sepia photo of a desert canyon covered lightly in snow. I stopped at this photo and, hoping I could fool R, said, "Oh! Nevada! This is it! This is where I'm going!"
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
(12/18/08) all that's left of the lion
Dream #1
I stood across the street from a big building like Grand Central Station. The face of the building recessed about midway along the building.
From within this recess there pointed out the nose of a craft which looked to me like an SR-71. Judging by the nose, however, I assumed the jet must have been enormous. I got very excited.
There were a couple people with me. One woman, who was about my age, was to my left and just behind me. I told the woman we should walk farther along to look directly into the recess of the building. The woman didn't seem to be as excited as I.
I now saw the whole recess directly. The "SR-71" stood at the bottom. It was enormous and may have been grey. A number of other jets hovered, as if hung by wires, all the way up along the height of the building, within this recess. There may also have been a few jets standing atop the building, just peering over its sides.
I thought, There's a jet show! I forgot all about it! I hope I'm not too late!
The woman and I went inside the building. The woman wasn't excited about the jets at all and made me feel ashamed for being excited.
The inside of the building was, like the outside of the building, like Grand Central Station, except with display cases everywhere, like the jewelry and perfume sections of a nice department store.
I may have been looking down at some jewelry. The woman called from behind me, telling me she had found a lion. I thought, Well, we were here to look for jets, but perhaps they also have (stuffed) wild animals here as well.
I turned. The woman, whom I still couldn't see, directed my view to an old, rich-looking woman. The woman wore a fur coat. On the fur coat was a circle, maybe six inches in diameter. The circle had white plastic backing and was inlaid (?) with pale, golden-blonde hair/fur. The fur was kind of short, maybe one inch long. The top of the circle of fur had three oval, pale purple, polished stones lying on it. The whole thing seemed to look as if it were under a magnifying glass.
I thought, This is all that's left of the lion? I felt like the woman (my friend) was trying to mock both my excitement about this event and the lion itself.
I stood across the street from a big building like Grand Central Station. The face of the building recessed about midway along the building.
From within this recess there pointed out the nose of a craft which looked to me like an SR-71. Judging by the nose, however, I assumed the jet must have been enormous. I got very excited.
There were a couple people with me. One woman, who was about my age, was to my left and just behind me. I told the woman we should walk farther along to look directly into the recess of the building. The woman didn't seem to be as excited as I.
I now saw the whole recess directly. The "SR-71" stood at the bottom. It was enormous and may have been grey. A number of other jets hovered, as if hung by wires, all the way up along the height of the building, within this recess. There may also have been a few jets standing atop the building, just peering over its sides.
I thought, There's a jet show! I forgot all about it! I hope I'm not too late!
The woman and I went inside the building. The woman wasn't excited about the jets at all and made me feel ashamed for being excited.
The inside of the building was, like the outside of the building, like Grand Central Station, except with display cases everywhere, like the jewelry and perfume sections of a nice department store.
I may have been looking down at some jewelry. The woman called from behind me, telling me she had found a lion. I thought, Well, we were here to look for jets, but perhaps they also have (stuffed) wild animals here as well.
I turned. The woman, whom I still couldn't see, directed my view to an old, rich-looking woman. The woman wore a fur coat. On the fur coat was a circle, maybe six inches in diameter. The circle had white plastic backing and was inlaid (?) with pale, golden-blonde hair/fur. The fur was kind of short, maybe one inch long. The top of the circle of fur had three oval, pale purple, polished stones lying on it. The whole thing seemed to look as if it were under a magnifying glass.
I thought, This is all that's left of the lion? I felt like the woman (my friend) was trying to mock both my excitement about this event and the lion itself.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
(5/7/09) jet maneuvers; ring of baldness; apocalyptic home improvement
(Entered in paper journal at 9:09 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
A view of a B-52-like plane carrying along a whole school of SR-71-like jets, all tethered to the B-52 by something like metal cords. The B-52 led the SR-71s through a series of maneuvers like for an air show, darting back and forth through the sky.The sky was a darkish, purplish blue, dotted by occasional white clouds, behind which the planes might fly.
I wondered how the planes could all be tethered to the B-52 while going through the maneuvers and manage not to get all tangled up -- especially the SR-71s. As I had this reflection, the SR-71s might have changed into old, World War I style biplanes, painted a purplish blue.
After more maneuvers the planes landed. One of the pilots of the tethered planes stepped out of his plane -- which was now like a somewhat modern, very small private plane. The man was tall, white, a little heavy, with a broad forehead and pale blue eyes. He may have been balding, with short, pale grey hair. He looked exhausted. The right side of his face may at some point have been a little grey, dry, and cracked.
The man was talking about the rigors of these training flights. He spoke about how his thumb (on his right hand?) had gotten smashed or otherwise somehow injured. He said he'd be okay. He had to go up for one more flight, but he could make it. As the man spoke, he looked more and more exhausted. He almost looked like he was dying or becoming a zombie.
I saw the man's injured hand. The thumb was smashed almost flat at the nail. It was all normally colored, though: no bruising or anything. But the thumb was flat, and there was a bloody mass around the sides and top. The man pulled at the thumb, so that the top part of the thumb flapped away from the bottom part a little.
I knew the man normally used this injured hand to manipulate one of the plane's control knobs. I wondered how the man could possibly use the hand. But I also thought that if he did use the hand, the same conditions which caused his thumb to get smashed the first time around would injure his hand even more.
But all the pilots, I knew, had to take the planes up one more time today. They were each taking a child on the flight. The children were special in some sense. Most likely they were terminally ill children, part of a "Make a Wish" type program.
The man now put a thin, blonde girl, maybe nine or ten years old, into the passenger seat of his plane. The girl wore a 1970s style, flowery dress of muted colors, with a white shirt underneath.
The girl requested that the man not do too many rough stunts. The girl was either afraid or too sick to sustain too much force. The man assured the girl that he would take it easy. The flight pattern assigned was very gentle, planned specifically for this special group of children.
The man then put a "helmet" on this girl. The "helmet" looked like a chain-link basket of thin-spun metal links, like the biggest bottom "bowl" in a ceiling-hung series of tiered, mesh-metal "bowls," used in kitchens sometimes to hold fruits or plants or other things.
Dream #2
A man got angry at me. He was either very short or bent down, or else I was standing on a slightly higher level than he. I could see the top of the man's head. The very top and center was bald in a circle maybe one and a half inches in diameter.
The man got madder at me and asked me why I thought I should be so interested in his head. I looked at the man's head again. The circle had a bit of longish, thin hair in it now, leaving only the edges, a ring of baldness. This was something of a relief to me. I had thought that the man's baldness was a sign that I myself would become bald.
Dream #3
I was in the living room of the house my family lived when I was eleven to fifteen years old. Some of my family and friends were also there. It was night. The room was lit with incandescent light. The front door was open.
Something was happening in the neighborhood, maybe even throughout the world, like an attack of killers or zombies. We had to take care of something on the roof, which was sloped and made of tin or some other sheet metal. We were (or I was) afraid to do this. It would likely call the attention of the killers/zombies and put us at great risk.
Dream #1
A view of a B-52-like plane carrying along a whole school of SR-71-like jets, all tethered to the B-52 by something like metal cords. The B-52 led the SR-71s through a series of maneuvers like for an air show, darting back and forth through the sky.The sky was a darkish, purplish blue, dotted by occasional white clouds, behind which the planes might fly.
I wondered how the planes could all be tethered to the B-52 while going through the maneuvers and manage not to get all tangled up -- especially the SR-71s. As I had this reflection, the SR-71s might have changed into old, World War I style biplanes, painted a purplish blue.
After more maneuvers the planes landed. One of the pilots of the tethered planes stepped out of his plane -- which was now like a somewhat modern, very small private plane. The man was tall, white, a little heavy, with a broad forehead and pale blue eyes. He may have been balding, with short, pale grey hair. He looked exhausted. The right side of his face may at some point have been a little grey, dry, and cracked.
The man was talking about the rigors of these training flights. He spoke about how his thumb (on his right hand?) had gotten smashed or otherwise somehow injured. He said he'd be okay. He had to go up for one more flight, but he could make it. As the man spoke, he looked more and more exhausted. He almost looked like he was dying or becoming a zombie.
I saw the man's injured hand. The thumb was smashed almost flat at the nail. It was all normally colored, though: no bruising or anything. But the thumb was flat, and there was a bloody mass around the sides and top. The man pulled at the thumb, so that the top part of the thumb flapped away from the bottom part a little.
I knew the man normally used this injured hand to manipulate one of the plane's control knobs. I wondered how the man could possibly use the hand. But I also thought that if he did use the hand, the same conditions which caused his thumb to get smashed the first time around would injure his hand even more.
But all the pilots, I knew, had to take the planes up one more time today. They were each taking a child on the flight. The children were special in some sense. Most likely they were terminally ill children, part of a "Make a Wish" type program.
The man now put a thin, blonde girl, maybe nine or ten years old, into the passenger seat of his plane. The girl wore a 1970s style, flowery dress of muted colors, with a white shirt underneath.
The girl requested that the man not do too many rough stunts. The girl was either afraid or too sick to sustain too much force. The man assured the girl that he would take it easy. The flight pattern assigned was very gentle, planned specifically for this special group of children.
The man then put a "helmet" on this girl. The "helmet" looked like a chain-link basket of thin-spun metal links, like the biggest bottom "bowl" in a ceiling-hung series of tiered, mesh-metal "bowls," used in kitchens sometimes to hold fruits or plants or other things.
Dream #2
A man got angry at me. He was either very short or bent down, or else I was standing on a slightly higher level than he. I could see the top of the man's head. The very top and center was bald in a circle maybe one and a half inches in diameter.
The man got madder at me and asked me why I thought I should be so interested in his head. I looked at the man's head again. The circle had a bit of longish, thin hair in it now, leaving only the edges, a ring of baldness. This was something of a relief to me. I had thought that the man's baldness was a sign that I myself would become bald.
Dream #3
I was in the living room of the house my family lived when I was eleven to fifteen years old. Some of my family and friends were also there. It was night. The room was lit with incandescent light. The front door was open.
Something was happening in the neighborhood, maybe even throughout the world, like an attack of killers or zombies. We had to take care of something on the roof, which was sloped and made of tin or some other sheet metal. We were (or I was) afraid to do this. It would likely call the attention of the killers/zombies and put us at great risk.
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.
Monday, November 12, 2012
(10/13/09) blackbird and flying saucer crash
Dream #1
It was a hot night in a big city. The grid of the city was lit with yellow, orange, and red. The lights made the city look like it was on fire.
A flying saucer and an SR-71 crashed over the city. The flying saucer and the SR-71 were enormous, large enough to smash a couple buildings below them.
The SR-71, besides being much larger than usual, didn't look much different from a normal SR-71. The flying saucer had white plates all around its body, like heat tiles on a space shuttle.
The two craft lay tilted toward each other, making a shallow V-shape. I could see as if I were floating between the two craft and facing the cockpit of the SR-71. The cockpit was lifted just slightly. From under the cockpit pulsed a red light. There was a pulsing sound, possibly coming from both craft.
I knew that there was some danger with the SR-71, either that it had a nuclear bomb on board or that it was itself a nuclear bomb. Now that the two craft had crashed, the nuclear bomb was activated. The city was doomed.
It was a hot night in a big city. The grid of the city was lit with yellow, orange, and red. The lights made the city look like it was on fire.
A flying saucer and an SR-71 crashed over the city. The flying saucer and the SR-71 were enormous, large enough to smash a couple buildings below them.
The SR-71, besides being much larger than usual, didn't look much different from a normal SR-71. The flying saucer had white plates all around its body, like heat tiles on a space shuttle.
The two craft lay tilted toward each other, making a shallow V-shape. I could see as if I were floating between the two craft and facing the cockpit of the SR-71. The cockpit was lifted just slightly. From under the cockpit pulsed a red light. There was a pulsing sound, possibly coming from both craft.
I knew that there was some danger with the SR-71, either that it had a nuclear bomb on board or that it was itself a nuclear bomb. Now that the two craft had crashed, the nuclear bomb was activated. The city was doomed.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
(2/9/10) flying to the intrepid; long, diseased lives
(Entered in paper journal at 6:20 AM, on B-train to work from Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I walked down through a park like Madison Square Park. It was a sunny day. I saw two gardeners working on a ground-level flower bed at the south side of the park. One was a man; the other, a woman. The man stood while he worked on the flowers. The woman lay on her left side, possibly digging in the soil. The soil was dark and rich.
The man told me, "She's here, KB (an old friend of mine) is here." I now saw that the woman working the flower bed was KB. I may have bent over her to wave hello. She sat up and greeted me. We started talking. I had told her at some point that I was going to go to the Intrepid Museum. We walked away from the flower bed and now faced a wide river.
It may have been like I had now come back from the museum. KB spoke as if I had invited her to come with me, though she had declined. She now said she was sorry she hadn't come, since she'd always wanted to go there. I may have said it had been fun. But I didn't want to talk about it too much -- I felt like I was starting to sound obsessed.
As I spoke, I watched the river, which seemed to be moderately active. I now saw the Intrepid, which was partly like an aircraft carrier and partly like a gigantic pier. I pointed it out excitedly to KB, even though I was again afraid that my being so excited would make me sound obsessed, or like a know-it-all (against which KB would react by saying a lot of things she knew).
But KB said, "Oh! How great!" in almost a motherly tone of approval. I pointed out one jet, which looked a little like a Falcon jet. I pointed out how the plane was propped up on a ramp that seemed to lean against the control tower.
I said, "That jet hadn't been that way before." But then I thought about it and said, "Well, maybe it had." KB seemed interested in my statements.
We were now moving across the river, as if we were floating in the river up to our chests, but moving as quickly as if we were flying over the river. We saw the SR-71 Blackbird, which was enormously long, and which I also didn't quite feel was in the right place.
We now stood on a walkway of wooden planks and metal just a couple of feet above the surface of the water. The sides of the aircraft carrier towered (straight up, not curved over) over us. There was some series of metal walkways over us as well. We were alone.
At some point KB may have put her arms around the underside of the nose of an older plane, clapping her hands against the surface for a moment. We spoke a little more. Then KB told me, "I'm broke." She said this as if she were also a little bit panicked about her future.
I said, "Do you need money? If you need money, we can go get you some right now. I'll lend it to you, no problem." KB looked at me with a stunned expression, her pale eyes blank. KB was unable to say anything. Finally she accepted.
Dream #2
I was in a small living room which was dim, with only natural light flowing into it from behind thick curtains. The room was narrow and slightly long. I sat on a couch on the right side of one end of the room. My mom and my aunt B sat on either a couch or chairs on the left side and other end of the room.
My aunt spoke with my mom and me about how people live to a certain age even with certain diseases or health problems. My aunt said something to the effect that my great grandmother lived with her disease until she was 80 years old -- and that was an old age to live to with that specific disease.
Dream #1
I walked down through a park like Madison Square Park. It was a sunny day. I saw two gardeners working on a ground-level flower bed at the south side of the park. One was a man; the other, a woman. The man stood while he worked on the flowers. The woman lay on her left side, possibly digging in the soil. The soil was dark and rich.
The man told me, "She's here, KB (an old friend of mine) is here." I now saw that the woman working the flower bed was KB. I may have bent over her to wave hello. She sat up and greeted me. We started talking. I had told her at some point that I was going to go to the Intrepid Museum. We walked away from the flower bed and now faced a wide river.
It may have been like I had now come back from the museum. KB spoke as if I had invited her to come with me, though she had declined. She now said she was sorry she hadn't come, since she'd always wanted to go there. I may have said it had been fun. But I didn't want to talk about it too much -- I felt like I was starting to sound obsessed.
As I spoke, I watched the river, which seemed to be moderately active. I now saw the Intrepid, which was partly like an aircraft carrier and partly like a gigantic pier. I pointed it out excitedly to KB, even though I was again afraid that my being so excited would make me sound obsessed, or like a know-it-all (against which KB would react by saying a lot of things she knew).
But KB said, "Oh! How great!" in almost a motherly tone of approval. I pointed out one jet, which looked a little like a Falcon jet. I pointed out how the plane was propped up on a ramp that seemed to lean against the control tower.
I said, "That jet hadn't been that way before." But then I thought about it and said, "Well, maybe it had." KB seemed interested in my statements.
We were now moving across the river, as if we were floating in the river up to our chests, but moving as quickly as if we were flying over the river. We saw the SR-71 Blackbird, which was enormously long, and which I also didn't quite feel was in the right place.
We now stood on a walkway of wooden planks and metal just a couple of feet above the surface of the water. The sides of the aircraft carrier towered (straight up, not curved over) over us. There was some series of metal walkways over us as well. We were alone.
At some point KB may have put her arms around the underside of the nose of an older plane, clapping her hands against the surface for a moment. We spoke a little more. Then KB told me, "I'm broke." She said this as if she were also a little bit panicked about her future.
I said, "Do you need money? If you need money, we can go get you some right now. I'll lend it to you, no problem." KB looked at me with a stunned expression, her pale eyes blank. KB was unable to say anything. Finally she accepted.
Dream #2
I was in a small living room which was dim, with only natural light flowing into it from behind thick curtains. The room was narrow and slightly long. I sat on a couch on the right side of one end of the room. My mom and my aunt B sat on either a couch or chairs on the left side and other end of the room.
My aunt spoke with my mom and me about how people live to a certain age even with certain diseases or health problems. My aunt said something to the effect that my great grandmother lived with her disease until she was 80 years old -- and that was an old age to live to with that specific disease.
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