Category: Dreams

A friend is having a party and Deborah is there. While I leisurely paint on a piece of art, Deborah runs about setting up food dishes. I only want to eat cheese and continue painting. As people start to arrive, Deborah gets angry at me and insists that I help her help our mutual friend. I say no, I just want cheese, and then accidentally drip paint on the painting.

Continue reading “Plate of Cheese”

I have pencil-sized cactus needles stuck in my upper legs. I start pulling them out and then wake up. Continue reading “Recent Dreams”

In a cinematic dream, two brothers spend a lot of time near the water and on the football field. One brother is tall, copper-skinned, with kinky, red hair. When he walks the field, counting off the yards, I see through his eyes. The other brother is dark skinned with dark, kinky hair. The captain (an unknown, voice-over-only character) tells them that a person went to end of the field, dove into the water, sank to the bottom, and died.
Continue reading “Two Brothers Lost”

I am either on an urban Native American reservation or at a convention with many different peoples. A four-story structure is being assembled behind a common area where we all meet. As the structure goes up, the builders seem to have the proper training to build it. It still looks unsafe.

I pack my bags, trying to figure out how to make all of my things fit into two small pieces of luggage. My roommate has the same problem but with more things to pack.

I take a break and go downstairs into the gift shop. A young Native American asks the shop worker if she can smoke her pipe in the shop. He says no. Another young Native American holds a glass wand as he browses the store. The shopkeeper says “I’m glad you found what you want, but you can’t keep looking around for other things.”

I go outside to share the pipe on the lawn and see that the structure is finished. People walk on it, so I go up to the top floor after sending a prayer up with the pipe. At the top, a woman falls through a walkway piece. She climbs out of the crumbled aluminum piece right before it falls to the ground. It lands next to another damaged piece as some people lay boards over the gap.

Then the whole structure begins to collapse. I stand on the only safe area, and, from the top level, watch helplessly as people fall off and through the dropping pieces. I see three women, one blonde, fall, so I go look over the edge to check on them. They are curled up like bugs on their backs, holding their necks with their hands.

Time passes as I descend the ruin. Not knowing what to do, I call 911.

“A building has collapsed and people need assistance!”

“What address?” the 911 person asks. I don’t know so ask someone. “There isn’t a building registered at that address. We can’t help you.”

I notice two fire trucks are helping the bug women and the see that the first floor is all cars. “But you’re 911. You’re supposed to help no matter what.”

“I see,” she says. “Please hold.”

Left on hold, I eventually hang up. The fire trucks have taken the bug women away.

Just a fragment from a dream I had in Truckee: I refused to pay respects to Chairman Mao because I had open-toed shoes. I felt that it would disrespect him, and, since he was visiting my family’s funeral home, I insisted on leaving to find better shoes to suit the prestige of his visit.

I go to a local art store to buy some stencil board. The worker tells me that they have regulated that product due to its misuse by street artists. To buy some, I’ll have to sign a waiver saying that I won’t use it for illegal reasons. I agree to sign, thinking of a fake name (Wayton?), and the worker tells me that I have to sign with a manager.

I find the manager outside near a pick-up. I ask her what I need to sign and she hands me a piece of scrap paper. She isn’t paying any attention to me when I hand the paper back to her. “Excuse me, here’s the paper.” “What? Oh, sorry. How can I focus with that going on over there.” She motions to the street behind us, and I look over my shoulder.

Someone has be brutally run over. A rolled-up, mangled body lies in the middle of the road, and possessions are strewn about. I think it may have been a homeless person, and turn away in horror. The manager has walked out into the street, well away from the accident, and is crouched down, bawling and talking to herself.

In a cafe, Deborah anxiously shows me a long strip of microfilm. As I look at the tiny writing on red film, she tells me how this is a paper that she hasn’t finished yet. I ask her what the paper is for, and she tells me that it is to graduate from a class. Two women behind Deborah are listening to our talk, and one turns to speak with me after Deborah goes to the back of the cafe to be with friends.

The woman tells me that she submitted a hand-drawn comic book to the same professor and passed. She invented an enviromentally-friendly cleaning product, made a comic book about it, and passed the class. She then offers to replace Deborah. I don’t quite understand but then realize that she is offering to be submissive for me. I decline the offer and go visit Deborah.

Deborah has already forgotten the microfilm paper and is hanging with friends. I say goodbye and head out into an imagined city. I’m walking through a poorer part of town to head home, thinking about how I’ll be watching DVDs tonight since I’m so broke. I walk buy a few buildings with quick-tag graffiti, and turn a corner to cut through a wide street that passes a high school.

Sometihing’s just ended in the street. Could be a riot, a drive by; I’m not sure. Upset parents are getting pushed back by plain-clothes security and what looks like armed-school faculty. A group of riot cops, dressed in thick-striped zoot suits, take their clubs off and load in to a van. A janitor opens a metal door out of the street, and then drops it.

Curious, I walk on home, almost going up an alley. Once home, I turn on the TV and watch the news. The female anchor happily says “Newsteam 4 didn’t catch the last violence at our local high school, but we were prepared this time.” They show footage of police beating back students. The first line of students are in wheel chairs, and there’s a second line of students holding chains connected to the chairs. The cops beat the shit out of them.

The news report never says why the protest started, and covers the police fashions instead. One group had nice sweaters under their green protective armor. They interview one of those cops, and I notice that he has no badge number (his sewn badge looks like a logo). The reporter speaks with the principal who, with a holstered gun, acts like nothings wrong. He compares the students to terrorists and admits that his people are well-trained to handle these situations.

I’m working in a corporate environment, but seem to be a temp. People know me, but I am in a different area of the floor from the two guys that need my help. On top of that I have a young girlfriend (I could be younger in this dream) who seems to be spending the day with me at work. She physically resembles my friend J.

The two guys have given me a presentation file to work on. Not hard considering I could do this with my eyes closed, but I am constantly distracted by my girlfriend. She knows people that I work with better than I do (one is a young blonde-haired surfer type), and I am a little jealous. I finish the job and it prints out on a spool printer. I cut out the individual pages to give back to the two guys.

Other dream fragments consist of foreplay with my girlfriend that always gets interrupted. Scenes include a park by a fountain, a condo or hotel room, and the place where I worked. Everywhere we go she knows people or is distracted by other people.

Dream fragments from this weekend:

My wife and I are on a boat in the ocean. Neither one of us knows how to drive it, so Joel S. shows up just in time to get us to safety. He immediately drives the boat into a wave and we get sucked in to it. My wife and I are OK but Joel has disappeared. I take the wheel and get us out of there.

My wife and I are in a building and unable to get out. There is something prowling outside and we do not know what it is.