(1/29/06) drug dealer in flight school; wrong way, brother; ravenous ants; i just wanted him to die; go ahead and kill the guy; seal tank; why the fuck am i here

(Entered in paper journal at 11:24 AM at Starbucks near 77th Street and Lexington Avenue in Manhattan.)

Dream 1

I was in a basement hallway or elevator bank. Maybe a few people were waiting for the elevator, and maybe some got on and let the doors close before the rest of us could get on.

Now it was me and two women. We were talking about how slow the elevator here is, especially when we have to go up fifty floors.

The elevator opened. It was really small. The two women got in first. I stepped in. I felt like it was too small. I was about to get out, but the two women told me to stay inside, that we'd all be fine together.

It was like the elevator went on the outside of the building, in some pipe, and went around all four walls. First we went past the parking lot. We got up to the eleventh floor. There was something like a lawn and buildings "up there." A bunch of kids, maybe college age, were all getting ready for some kind of orientation.

I got off the elevator. One of the women said, "Why don't I pick you up here in my car every day?"

I said, "Oh, no. That's too much trouble."

The other woman was a little annoyed. She said, "She doesn't mean it that way. It's just that she goes this way every day. So why not pick you up along the way?" I agreed.

I went toward people sitting at picnic tables. It was a grey day. I thought, Why did I let them leave me here? This is the eleventh floor, and I'm looking for the fiftieth.

I jumped in the air and flew a little bit. I landed. But I didn't really believe I could fly like that.

I walked toward the college kids. I thought, Oh, I don't want to go through this crap again with mean kids. I'm not a kid anymore! I figured I'd fly out of their field of vision. I did.

A couple guys noticed me. They looked annoyed like they were scheming to pull me down. I wanted to look more normal, but I didn't want to stop flying. I didn't know if I could start again once I'd stopped. So I flew really low, almost so my belly touched the ground.

I flew low behind a guy who was sitting at the picnic tables. The guy was talking on a cell phone. He said, "Yeah. That kid" (he meant me) "is a drug dealer. I'm sure of it. Keep an eye on him."

I got freaked out. I tried to fly upward again, but I was stuck. I lifted only high enough so I could put my feet on the ground. I walked toward a little fountain and lawn area with some marble benches and gates and a marble statue of a man in the center of the fountain.

I was upset that I had been accused of being something I would never be. I thought, Isn't this flight school? How do people like that asshole get in here? And why do people get mad at me for flying?

I wasn't quite to the fountain. I was already feeling really defensive. But then a bunch of white kids sitting by the fountain all turned and glared at me like I was a pussy. So I "showed I could fight." I jumped way high, maybe ten feet in the air, and did back flips with my arms stretched out.

I kept tight while I did them. I wondered why this would show I could fight. I even lost track of the people I was trying to prove myself to. I wondered how long I could keep up these back flips and whether they were going to get me flying again.

I jumped again. This time in the middle of the flip I felt extra energized. I felt like I was being pulled through an electric tunnel. I was still where I was though. I thought, Here comes the fight again. I can feel it. It's the power!

But now I opened my eyes and I was in bed, naked except a pair of panties. I thought, In some way I knew it was all a dream. But now that I have the power from the dream I can bring it here.

It was lightning and thundering outside. My room and my bed were very large. I only had a sheet over my body. I was rolled in a ball on my right side (?).

I closed my eyes and told myself to levitate. I thought, If you can't levitate, at least pull yourself back into a dream where you can levitate. I closed my eyes and concentrated wildly, like I was driven by the lightning. At some point I felt my body levitating, my back and bottom, just like I was rolling forward.

I thought, I must be entering into a dream again. I got too excited. All the closed-eye-focus dropped. My eyes opened. My body dropped to the mattress. I thought, I can't prove my body lifted at all. I may only have been dreaming the whole thing.

I tried to sit up. But I could only get so far. I didn't have a sheeet on me, either: just a long, silver band or string, like a thin chain of a necklace, noded with very occasional, thin, silvery beads and silvery rings, the rings certainly not more than one-eighth of an inch in diameter.

The band went the whole length of my body. In one way it felt good -- sensuous. But in another way it felt like a trap.

Dream 2

It was daytime. I stood outside an American-Victorian-style (?) building at the top of a sort of steep slope of grass (maybe a park lawn) that was littered with yellow leafs. The building was stately, short, with a nice, pale portico, and a body of red brick. This was where I worked.

I had stepped out for lunch. Now, heading back, I got a call from my brother on my cell phone. My brother said, "Why not take a car ride with me? I'll take you back to work."

Now my brother was walking beside me, on my right side. Now we were in my brother's vehicle, an SUV-type vehicle, tan, with a pale cream interior. I'm pretty sure I was on the driver's side. But my brother was driving.

My brother drove us really fast down a suburban road with a median, like Louisiana above Montgomery in Albuquerque, except a lot sunnier and happier. There was something very lovely about it: undertones everywhere of baked orange and tan, like on cliff walls in New Mexico.

As we drove toward a downward slope of road, I told my brother, "What are you doing? This isn't the way to my work! Where are we going?"

My brother said, "Oh, Don't worry. You aren't going back to work today."

I thought, He knew all along he was going to do this to me! Even if I got out of the car right now, I couldn't get to work even close to on time.

My brother said, "We're going somewhere I need to go. Why does it always need to be about work for you?"

I thought, It's not. But right now I've just started with work. I need to make a good impression.

My mom called me. She asked where I was. I said, "I'm with my brother. He picked me up in his car and now he won't take me to work."

My brother had turned the car around and was taking me back to work. I could tell he was both angry. I felt bad. I wanted him to understand, I wasn't doing this because I didn't like him or want him around. But I had to do my work for now.

Dream 3

It was night. I was on a sandy shore. The moon was enormous. The ocean or sea seemed more abundant than usual. I "remembered" I had been here before and seen seals. The "ocean" wouldn't wave: it would swell and sink. The water was a slimy, slightly glowing, dull-fluorescent green, like the brightness on a TV turned down to 1 or 2.

I walked out to something like a handicap ramp with rusty guardrails right at the edge of the water. Now it was like I was at the top of the wall overhanging the water. As the water swelled again I saw three seals' heads skimming above the slimy surface of the water.

I thought, See? You can see them without having to get into the water like you did before.

But the water swelled more. First it just lapped up onto the concrete. Now I was floating in it. The water felt great. It was as viscous as regular water, but a bit warmer.

There were a bunch of seals swimming around me now. "Remembering" again, I thought, As long as they don't get face to face with me I'm fine. I felt a couple of seals swimming up against the soles of my feet. It was so magnificent to be around all this.

But now my "memory" came back. I "remembered what had happened to me. It had driven me completely mad. I knew I had to get out of here before I went mad again.

I swam toward a stone wall, like I was in a canal. I was thrown out onto the beach. Looking out (it was now daylight), I thought the ocean looked like a "bog" (marsh?) at low tide, with muddy pools of water everywhere.

I thought, Something about the water? Was it that I don't have enough power to be in the water yet? I hoped that wasn't it.

Even though it was daylight, it was still night, and some of the things I saw were like I saw them only by the light of a flashlight.

I knelt down. The ocean was "back to normal." The beach was pebbly. I saw a fiddler crab. It climbed up on my knee and pinched me so that I bled. It ran off. A drop of blood dripped onto the sand.

It was daylight again. Ants from a nearby anthill came out, maybe fifty to one hundred of them, and devoured my blood in a fraction of a second, creating in their ravenous frenzy a little, square-like ring around a pile of sand.

I was amazed: the ants had just fizzled over the blood and erased it from existence. I thought, If I bleed more, they'll eat right from my wound. They might even consume me.

I thought of walking away. But I didn't know whether I could get away now.

Dream 4

I sat by a window on a hospital bed. I was a doctor. I was naked except for a pair of panties. I was knelt so I leaned against the window.

I was waiting for a black man my friend R had treated nicely and I had treated mean. I didn't really like the man. But I didn't want to be known for having treated him mean. People could think of me as a racist for having treated a black person mean.

As we waited -- there were a few other people in the "hospital," and this was probably the emergency room, I started quoting out facts about how much things had progressed for black people and how black people were working in good places more than ever now, but how it still wasn't enough. By this I meant that black people were still being treated unfairly and that there was still a lot of inequality.

Now the black man lay on a bed. He was thin and dark. he was unconscious. But he still looked angry and defiant. He had tubes sticking out of his mouth. I was pounding his chest like I was trying to resuscitate him, even though I couldn't care less whether he died.

I called to him, mostly to appease him by flattery if he were even only half-conscious, "Please! Please, get up! Don't give up so soon! We need you here!"

But, really, I just wanted him to die.

Dream 5

A tall, white man who looked like a skinhead had done something bad to me. Now he had come to "my house." He wasn't wearing a shirt. He may actually have been completely naked.

I enticed him into the place. I somehow lured him into the kitchen, which looked like my aunt P's kitchen. I started beating the shit out of him. Eventually I had him so subdued that I hung him back-down, into a garbage can, so from his waste to his head he hung downward into the can. I then began pouring all kinds of liquor onto the man, mostly sweet, reddish stuff like Campari. I also kept throwing liquor bottles at the man. I got angrier and tossed more stuff at the man.

The man was now totally pummeled. I stuffed him into some small space.

Now my friend R came in. we both walked out of the kitchen and into the dumpy but empty living room. I looked at some frail shelves that stood on the floor.

R's girlfriend L came in. R said, "Well, we're heading out for a date."

I, trying to be discreet, said, "Oh, um... Should I, with the guy, I was thinking of finishing up." By this I meant that I was going to dismember and kill the guy.

R said, "No. Just keep him in there a while. And when we get back, you can let him go. I figure that ought to teach him enough of a lesson."

I was disappointed. I figured that as soon as R left I'd just go ahead and kill the guy.

Dream 6

I was walking around in a nice place that reminded me of Denver in "the old days." It was all so nice, and I had never been aware that everything good about Denver had all been so closely located.

I walked up to an exhibit of seals. I wondered why I hadn't realized this was here before. I could see the seals right here!

There were two or three seals. Their pool was upside-down "T" shaped with a small island in the middle and a couple anthill-like "columns" on the sides. The concrete sloped up to brick and then to iron fence.

I was afraid at first as I came to the exhibit fence. I knew there had always been a sign on the fence of a dead seal's stomach that had been cut open to reveal that it was filled with pennies. The sign had always disgusted and saddened me (in waking life) whenever I went to the zoo as a child. It was so sad to think of an innocent seal dying because of the pennies it had naively eaten. But it was also so disgusting and unsettling to see a sliced-open stomach.

But when I got up to the fence, I didn't see the sign. Without having to look at the sign, I simply triumphed in watching the seals play around. They were coppery brown and happy. Again I thought to myself, This place is so close! I never knew!

But now I saw how small the pool was. I thought, These seals can't be happy. They must be miserable. The seals seemed to swim into hiding.I scanned the pool for them. I then noticed how shallow the pool was. And in the corners of the pool was human debris -- things like cigarette butts, etc. The more I looked at this place, the more I realized this was an awful place for seals to live.

I saw one seal dart out from a corner. I looked toward that corner. Under a ledge of sorts were maybe three other seals, maybe more. One adult lay with her back against the wall. Two smaller seals were up by her. There may have been another adult seal.

At first I thought the baby seals were suckling. I did and didn't want to see that. Then I saw they weren't suckling. They were trying to get the seal back to life. The seal's stomach was split wide open. I can't say whether the seal was alive or dead. I was afraid to look.

Dream 7

I stood outside a beautiful building Then I went inside. It was a library/museum. It was so wonderful. The exhibits were busts of famous people. At first I saw a bust of George Bernard Shaw, like the one by Rodin. I was excited to see it. I walked up to it.

In a moment I was somewhere else, like everything had started all over again. I tried to find the bust again. I couldn't find it in this room. So I walked into another room off to the right. I saw a "bust" of Shaw, which actually looked like strips of Shaw's face abstractly, or in an almost skeletal way, brushed together. I was excited, but skeptical. I couldn't believe this was the bust I had seen previously.

I looked back into the first room. There was a "bust" that was made out of some cheap-looking, plastic-like material. But once again I was excited to see it. I walked up to it. It looked like some computer-cartoon version of Shaw. I was a little disgusted, but I tried to act impressed, just to lift my own spirits.

I walked along a strange series of strips that went in a huge oval. They were like shelves with nothing on them but pictures and displays attached to their tangents. Each cluster of displays was devoted to a different celebrity. None of the celebrities was too impressive.

I stopped at the display devoted to some black female model. I wasn't interested. She looked completely average and unprofessional in her photos, which were like photo's of any girl's cheap prom. There was some typewritten stuff about the model's "big day(s)" being a model and how she was afraid it wouldn't work out, but then it did, and "how fun!" and "I always knew it!"

I looked behind the weird race-track-like or Saturn-ring-like shelves, to an oval of desk/counter space. The woman whose display I had just reviewed sat at the desk. She was now kind of overweight and average-looking. Some woman stood by her, talking to her about how "excellent" it was that the woman had been a model.

The ex-model said, "I've gotten so fat! I can't believe it! I need to pay more attention to what I eat."

The ex-model had a bunch of desserts by her. The woman (white, blonde, middle-aged, somewhat in good shape) was fingering one. The ex-model said, "Don't be shy! If you want a dessert, that means your body needs it. That's what I say! Don't be afraid to take it."

I stood there staring at this scene and wondering why the fuck I was here.

(3/23/06) the skyscraper and the flying saucer; passive-arrogant;citizen kane monologues; no fruit for Lent

(Entered in paper journal at 8:14 PM on Brooklyn-bound Q-train from 57th Street and 7th Avenue in  Manhattan.)

Dream 1

I saw a city at night -- rather primitive houses surrounding a tall building like a mix of a new skyscraper made of dark glass and Seattle's Space Needle, with a wide, square base.

A huge, jellyfish-shaped object like a flying saucer flew down onto the building. It had a square in its center just fitting the building's square base.

I felt that somewhere, either in the city or in the city-sized flying saucer, there was some kind of rebellion. I felt like the rebellion in the city would have been because the flying saucer would crush the city. But I realized that the revolt "probably" wasn't coming from the city.

I saw, like I was near the building, the building enter into the flying saucer. The innards were at first jagged and boxy, like nighttime skyscrapers turned at all different angles. But soon, possibly out of anger, the shapes all turned gooey and gummy, though keeping that technological dark glass under-lighting.

Dream 2

I was in a room with my friend Y. We went form the room out onto a street, walking and talking. We were then in a car, traveling through a slightly busy city.

I saw an advertisement -- a close shot of a hand on a body or two close bodies in erotic contact. The shot was in black and white. It then became a color-negative image, so the shadows were lime green highlights and the "black and white" was more copper and sepia. But when I noticed the change, the ads took on a normal color scheme.

The whole time, Y and I had been talking about normal things and how I was sorry I hadn't spoken with her in so long.

But now I "was in' a different conversation. I could hear my friend R's friend KZ talking about someone, either Y or me, about how that person was a know-it-all, but how that person acted like a know-it-all in such a meek way that anybody who called that person arrogant would seem either jealous or pathetic or cruel. I hoped KZ wasn't talking about me, even though I also felt guilt, like KZ was correct.

I stood indoors somewhere with a lot of people, fact to face with Y. Y had a zip-up hoodie sweater on, a pale, dirty blue. Some man's hand touched the zipper near Y's collarbone. Y got mad but didn't act as indignantly as she usually would. She said, "Don't touch me like that."

I looked to my right to see who the man was. At first it was Y's father.

(Continued writing at 9:01 PM at home in Brooklyn.)

I wanted to call out to him, but I couldn't remember his name. By the time I remembered, he'd changed into someone else: a younger, strong person with kind of dark, red-blonde hair and a kind of red, sunburned face.

Dream 3

I walked up a street in a nice city as I heard a movie, like somewhere I was actually watching the movie. It was Citizen Kane. At first, Kane's wife gave a monologue on how poorly Kane treated her. Then it changed to a character (played by Rita Hayworth) giving Kane a speech like, "Well, at least I know what kind of person you are now. I guess I'll just have to deal with it."

Hearing the monologues I thought, I must really have grown over the years. When I first watched Citizen Kane speeches like these, they just breezed past me. I had no idea what they meant. Now I finally understand.

Dream 4

I was in a car, driving through a busy but slightly dilapidated, somehow Latin-seeming, town. I was looking for fruit. But because it was Lent, no stores had fresh fruit. I rode past fruit carts, bodegas, and grocery stores. One store even had a huge sign over it that advertised that they had no fresh fruit. I thought maybe I should be fasting anyway, since it was Lent.

Then I went into a grocery store. They had no fresh fruit. But the older fruit they had looked fine. But I didn't want to be seen buying fruit. I knew it was a sign of weakness not to fast for Lent.

(5/22/09) shemale superhero

(Entered in paper journal at 7:43 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I was in a hallway like in a run-down apartment. An Asian woman was with me. The hallway probably had brown-painted wood walls and uncared for wood floors that were probably caked with dust.

The Asian woman was about six inches shorter than I. She had dark skin, long, silky, black hair, round, black eyes, and a small, healthy, roundish body. She wore a silvery outfit, possibly a tank-top and shorts made of spandex.

I was taking the Asian woman somewhere, possibly from one of the rooms of this apartment, where a party had been held, to another room. For some reason I felt I needed to pass into my room first.

It was night. The hallway was lit by softish, incandescent light. At first I could see into my room, like the door  was wide open, from slightly down the hallway. My room was lit by a slightly brighter incandescent light. The walls may have been a sea green color, with the paint possibly chipping. My room was even more unkempt than the hallway.

As the woman and I walked toward the room, I noticed I had a large pornographic magazine in my right hand (or alternately in my right, then left, hand?). The magazine was maybe as large as, and of the same paper quality as, an old Life or Vogue magazine.

I had been waving my hands to gesture while I had been talking to the woman. Now I realized that this whole time the woman must have seen that I had this huge porn magazine in my possession. I tried to be more discreet with my gestures, hoping to keep the magazine hidden as I walked.

When we reached the door to my room, it was closed. I opened it. We were here so I could show or give the girl something. My room was run-down and a mess. I even had a pile of stuff on the bed, possibly even an entire set of shelves.

We walked in a shallow arc through my room. As we walked pat the bed I saw (possibly on the set of shelves) a stack of for or five large magazines titled SHE-MALE (which is, or was, a real magazine), all in clear plastic envelopes and tiered down so that the title showed for each magazine. I hoped that the woman wouldn't notice the magazines.

I didn't know how the magazines had gotten here. I had always been interested in the magazine, I had thought. But I had actually never bought one. I knew one of my friends, maybe my old friend R, had snuck into my room and laid out these magazines, which he'd bought, so that they'd be in plain sight, just to embarrass me in a situation like this.

The woman saw the magazines and rolled her eyes, as if annoyed that I liked that sort of thing. Our talk kind of fell flat. The woman must have gotten whatever she'd needed. She walked back out into the hallway.

In a little section of the hallway, something like an inset large enough to fit a little cabinet or phone table, the woman now sat or stood with a man. The man was Asian, short, with coppery skin that was lighter than the woman's darker brown skin. The man had thin eyes, a square, solid body, thin lips, and short, gelled, spiky hair. He wore a baby blue t-shirt and khaki shorts.

The man and woman sat or stood amid a bunch of clutter, broken shelves, etc. They were giggling quietly to themselves about me. It was just loud enough that I thought they intended me to hear their ridicule. They were laughing about my having the SHE-MALE magazines in my possession.

I was in my room. The door to my room was now closed. I'm not sure whether I had closed it. Daylight may now have been streaming in through windows over which raggy, tattered, patchwork sheets had been stretched.

I thought, Why should I be ashamed of having the SHE-MALE magazines? I thought to myself, with anticipation, how each issue also included a piece of cheap lingerie with it. I looked back to the magazines. The plastic wrappings were now much bulkier. I thought that the wrappers must have been bulky because the lingerie was stuffed into them underneath the magazines.

But I unwrapped one of the magazines to find that underneath it was, instead of lingerie, a strange, thin, plastic version of a male superhero's outfit. It may have been a Superman outfit. I unwrapped another magazine and found another superhero outfit -- one that I couldn't figure out at all.

I was a little disappointed. I had been hoping to find some lingerie that I could wear. I thought, Well, there are female superheroes as well. Perhaps I'll find one of their costumes.

I unwrapped a costume which at first looked like the Wonder Woman costume. But now it had pant legs on it. Seeing pant legs on the Wonder Woman costume made me less interested in it. I tossed the costume on the stack of other costumes.

I may have opened another costume before thinking, Wait! The Wonder Woman costume was a female costume, after all. I pulled it back out. But the costume now looked like a female version of the Captain America costume. I wasn't interested in it at all.

But now I unwrapped an article that was like a woman's black, one-piece bathing suit. I thought I should at least try this on.

I was now (different dream?) flying over a big city at night. The night was very dark, with little amber specks of light set into all the shadowy skyscrapers below me. I may have been flying by my body alone, and simultaneously flying in some small vehicle. Someone else, a man, was also flying with me, just behind me and to my right or left, probably my left.

There were structures attached to the roofs of, or the top parts of the sides of, certain skyscrapers. These structures were "cylinders," like tireless wheels, made of white plastic, maybe thirty or fifty feet in diameter, lit from behind in amber incandescent light, stuck into the building to look like an "entranceless" tunnel into the building.

These fixtures were docking areas for ourselves or our vehicles. We couldn't land safely without landing via one of these docking areas. We needed to land, however, either because we were running out of the ability to fly or because we were chasing a badguy who himself had landed and had thus required us to land in order to continue chasing him.

I almost docked at one area but somehow missed it, as if the buildings, and not I were moving, and my job, to time my attachment to the moving building, had not been performed accurately. I apologized to the other person. I felt inadequate for failing, and slightly worried that I'd never adequately attach to a docking area, that both I and the other flyer would crash and die because of me.

I found another docking area, which seemed easier to land in because it came out of the top of a building. But I probably didn't make it into this docking area, either. We flew low over the ground now, through an outside area that looked like an indoor employee lounge at a grocery store or fast food restaurant, except that it was, of course, outdoors. Concrete columns, like highway overpass pillars, ran alongside the room.

A young, black man, light-skinned, tall, stringy, but strong, wearing a tan sweatshirt and some kind of baseball cap, with a gaunt face and dull, tiny eyes, sat in a booth across from a white man who may have been in uniform as a policeman or firefighter.

As I flew past the men, the black man laughed at me. He said how crazy I was to think I could fly, and how crazy I was to think I was part of anything special. I was going to ignore the man's negative comments. But I let myself get too angry. I turned back and faced the man (almost as if I sat or crawled on the tabletop before him or stuffed myself on top of him, between him and the table).

The floor around the booth table was now littered with something like crumbs and popcorn. I yelled something at the man about how I thought he was really cool and he was doing really good things, and that I didn't make fun of him, so why did he have to make fun of me for doing something that actually was pretty important?

I then yelled about how I could show him danger, if he really wanted to see it, that I was holding some danger away from him in my fights, but that if he'd rather I didn't act crazy and fight, I could go ahead and let the danger loose on him.

The man looked a little taken aback and slightly ashamed and afraid. The policeman/firefighter may have been on guard, thinking I was acting a little dangerously, and that I should be watched. The two men got up and walked away.

I now realized that the young man was actually a firefighter in training and that he probably was a really good guy. I felt bad for acting so strangely toward such an innocent person.

The men had walked down a hallway that turned right and away at the "back" of this "room." I got the young man's attention again. The young man was now taller and thinner. He now wore a black baseball cap and a maroon sweatshirt.

I gave the young man a gift, something like a big gook. I apologized for having acted weird. The young man may have taken the book. But he didn't pay me much attention beyond that. He had gone back to regarding me as kind of crazy and not really worth any thought.

(9/30/09) dancing at mcdonald's; sexual derivatives; washer full of lingerie

(Entered in paper journal at 7:55 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

It was a blue, sunny day. I walked onto a parking lot, heading onto it from either the sidewalk or the street (i.e. after having crossed the street). The parking lot feels like the parking lot of a King Sooper's grocery store my family used to drive by, but never shop at, when I was in junior high school in Denver. The parking lot and the street behind it were empty.

In the distance I could see the side of a large, square, brown-painted block building, like a King Sooper's. But nearer to me was a McDonald's. The McDonald's had a 1950s look, with one golden arch coming out of the roof on each side of the building. But it also had a strange, futuristic look, as if the whole building were also made to look like the chassis of a vehicle, or like the torso (?) of a battle robot. The building looked plastic and was painted a wet-looking white or silver. I could see a drive-thru menu beside the building, as well as an outdoor eating patio in front of the building.

Raucous, cheerful 1950s music began playing on the speakers outside the McDonald's, like the music one might expect to hear playing in the car area of a Sonic restaurant. I think the song sounded like a specific John Lee Hooker song that I can no longer remember. I almost felt possessed. I began bopping up and down and dancing to the music as I walked.

I looked down at my shadow on the asphalt and then caught a glimpse of myself somehow. I was wearing a low quality dress shirt and pants, the shirt a blandish tan-brown, and the pants a shade lighter, almost khaki, but a shade greener. I was fatter. I definitely had a bit of a stomach. I could see from my shadow (?) that my hair was cut, but that it had a tall, wavy, but messy look, like a Ricky Ricardo hairstyle, but on a complete geek. I may also have been wearing a thin, black tie.

I may have tried to stop dancing, thinking that any of the Mexicans (?!) at the McDonald's would see me dancing and think I was just a wannabe Mexican. I may finally have stopped myself from dancing as the McDonald's passed behind me and out of my sight.

I may then have met up with a few people, possibly near a car in this lot, which was still empty. My mother may have been among the people. I may have had a conversation with the people, some kind of critical discussion regarding my actions over the past couple minutes.

Dream #2

I lay in bed with my brother. We were in a dark basement. A sliver of dim light came from above, as from some place around the corner from the top of the stairwell of which we were at the bottom. I was trying to explain stock options, derivatives, to my brother. The two of us may have been children, although we both had our adult minds.

But as I continued explaining derivatives to my brother, he took on the appearance of TT, a female co-worker I had a crush on. I myself may have taken on my adult form. I got into some quasi-detail explaining derivatives, which I only half-understood.

The bed was huge, and the two of us lay under thick blankets. The blanket was like a patchwork quilt, the squares in many places of white and blue patterning, like patterns on China. My brother/TT pulled the blanket off him/herself, apparently bored and/or confused by everything I had been talking about. He/she said that he/she had to get somewhere to take care of something.

I now saw my brother's body. He wore nothing except a black pair of panties. His body was slim, warm brown, with big breasts. I was suddenly very aroused. I asked him, "Would you mind if -- if I --."

I hesitated, partly because I didn't want to embarrass the woman and partly because I didn't feel alright making love to a man. But I continued, too aroused to stop myself. I asked, "Would you mind if I -- had sex with you?"

The woman, now sitting against the headboard of the bed, ready to get up, looked at me as I sat before her, my shoulders still covered by the blankets. She gave me a surprised, politely disinterested look, then said, "Well, sure. That would be fine."

I may have laid down on the woman. But now she was floating away, standing upright, from the foot of the bed, her back to the bed. I floated just behind her. We floated with our feet maybe a foot above the ground. The woman still wore only her panties. We were floating toward the back of the basement, possibly toward the laundry room, nowhere near the stairwell up to the main floor. At this point, the basement reminded me of the basement from a townhouse my family lived in when I was ten years old.

The woman said something like, "We can make love soon. But for now I have to take care of some things."

I thought this made sense. The woman needed to go to work, or something like that. But I still really wanted to make love right now. I felt like if I didn't make love to the woman while I felt this way, I might never be able to make love to the woman.

Dream #3

I was in a department store, like a Kmart, except that the place was maybe the size of six Kmarts put together. I sat in some seating area, possibly like an area of table-booths in a food-court-like area, with my mother. The booth seats/benches were orange. The light around us was a glaring white fluorescent.

Even though my mom sat next to me, I couldn't see her. It was like I was looking down at a newspaper or some knitting, or even just a white, plastic bag I was fondling, while my mother sat to my left, her head just above and out of my line of sight -- like I was as small as a child!

We were possibly about to finish up here and go somewhere else. But then I realized that I hadn't done my laundry, and that my mother hand done my laundry for me. It was now like I sat in an orange plastic seat, like in a row of single seats all fastened atop a single square iron beam, like might be seen in waiting areas for bus stops, government offices, etc.

A little impatient with my mom, both for not having done my laundry -- she had done her own and, possibly, "everybody else's" -- and for thinking it was fine for us to go even though my laundry wasn't done, I stoop up quickly and hurried away.

I knew I had very little time, now, to take care of my laundry, even though I could still possibly get it done. I just had to find the washing machines. I walked counter-clockwise through the store, and then, passing the end of a tall partition at the back of the store, I saw a seemingly unending row of washing machines, the backs of which all rested against this other side of the partition.

Each washing machine was partitioned off from its neighbors by a thin, plastic-sided plyboard that was maybe as tall as the washing machine. I had to find the specific washing machine in which I had left my clothes. I would then take the clothes and put them in the dryer. I hoped the clothes wouldn't have that musty smell of wet clothes left too long in the washing machine.

I found my clothes in a "washing machine." The washing machine was actually more like wall-inset dryer, like at laundromats. I opened the "washing machine" door. The barrel of the "washing machine" went far back, maybe six feet.

I pulled a lot of my clothes out from the front end of the barrel. Everything was lingerie. I suddenly worried. If I had to dry all this stuff, wouldn't everybody see me handling all this lingerie and know it was mine? It was very inconvenient for me to have to worry about all this, especially right now, while I was in such a rush.

I continued pulling all my clothes out of the barrel. Then I noticed I couldn't reach the stuff in the back of the barrel. It was too far back for me to reach by standing here and reaching in, my body in the barrel from the waist up. I saw that some of the clothes were stuck to the sides and top of the barrel, like wet clothes would be, although I'm pretty sure all the clothes were dry.

I thought perhaps I could crawl into the barrel to get the clothes that were stuck in the back. But I had a feeling the barrel wasn't set solidly enough to carry a human body, and that if I got in, I'd snap the barrel off its fixture, crashing to the ground, or maybe down through a deep pit.

I then thought I could manually turn and shake the barrel, working the clothes off the sides, then tumbling them along, until they finally worked their way toward me, like clothes naturally do in a dryer. I started doing this, but some kind of cluttering, clattering feeling stopped me. I may also have stopped wondering what people would think of me if they saw me standing in front of a "washing machine" with a bunch of lingerie tumbling toward its front.

I now sat that at the top of the barrel there hung a couple hangers on which hung hangers with bras on them. I was somehow annoyed with my mother, as if I thought she could at least have had the consideration to take my bras off their racks once they had finished washing. Now I had to take each one off its rack in order to put it into the dryer. This would take me even more time.

But I went to work on the task. I pulled a couple bras off their individual hangers, gently sliding the straps off the of each square-edged plastic bar. Then, moving to another top-hung hanger I unthinkingly pulled each bra straight down from its individual plastic hanger, hearing some kind of snap each time. I caught myself doing this and, surprised, became aware of what I'd been doing.

I saw that the straps of these bras were a clear, thin, flexible plastic and were removable from the bras themselves. I knew that snapping the bras straight down, clipping these straps off, would do no harm, since the straps were removable. I thought this would save me a lot of time, though I couldn't quite see how the few seconds I'd saved by not having to be so careful with the bra straps could get me back on schedule. Again, I felt rushed and frustrated.