Dream: The bear in the garage

I was in a garage with several doghouses and a bear on a big heavy chain. It was a big brown bear, taller than me by at least a foot, and I was trying to figure out if it was tame enough to be around the dogs. The ninja’s mom’s and sister’s dogs were there, as was the dog I had when I was growing up, Tila, but I couldn’t see her. The bear slobbered my hand, not really biting it but leaving these yellow granules and slobbery bark on it (and now I remember my dream yesterday, one in which profuse yellow mucus poured from my nose and mouth), and while I felt the brush of his teeth, he didn’t seem interested in biting me.

The bear slept on the ground with his paw on Rory, the poodle, and it walked on all four legs, urinating as it walked, and I thought, “is that how they really do that?” I was going to ask it to give me a kiss, to show my aunt (this was in her garage) and my cousins that the bear was pretty tame, although I knew with a swipe of a playful paw I could have broken bones. I didn’t like that it was chained up in the garage.

Dream: CG sword clash a la FFVII

This time the dream was at my aunt’s old house, and it had CG elements, namely, Cloud Strife and Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII. Cloud in the dream looked awesome (like in Advent Children, a FFVII sequel movie). The detail and texture was beautiful, the way the fabric moved, and his hair moved and it was very well done. Sephiroth, on the other hand, was kind of polygonal (but not as simple as he was in the game), and I knew his face would have been awe-inspiringly beautiful if he had been rendered in the same way Cloud had been.

Anyway, they fought in the driveway and in the road, and Sephiroth threw down his sword, sticking it in the sand in the side of the road. He said something to Cloud but he seemed very sad, and I touched his polygonal sleeve, but he pulled away, and turned away. I was going to remind him about his sword but I knew I wanted to hold it and the person I was with wanted to take it. Cloud seemed to walk away in the other direction, and I picked up Sephiroth’s sword. When Sephiroth held it, it was long and very sharp, but when I held it, it was only about a foot and a half, and didn’t seem sharp at all.

“Oh it’s a (Q-something? Probably meant Karach (karach is a kind of a sword created out of chaos matter in a game called Planescape: Torment that reflects the mindstate of the one holding it))” my associate said, looking disappointed. “Sephiroth channels down the sword and creates it in the way that he uses it.” He picked up a pencil by the side of the road and wrapped it in tissues. “This should trick him into thinking I have it,” he said, and put it in his pocket.

I watched Sephiroth still walking down the road toward the sunset (he was headed west, and Cloud was going east), and wished I could help him somehow.

Dream: The ball again, without Duncan.

There was a dress up party, again, that my cousin Kayla and her “sister” Sarah were going to, but this time I was going along, just because I wanted to be with them, but at the same time, I really, really, did not want to go at all. I was frustrated and upset with everyone around me, particularly my mom, who seemed like she was trying to be helpful but being totally irrational at the same time. Another addition to the frustration was that everyone else knew what was going on but I did not, so I was on edge from trying to figure everything out and no one would just tell me, and I didn’t have the sense in the dream to just let it go.

At first, we were in the kitchen, but it was more like my Great Aunt Deedee’s kitchen instead of my aunt Cath’s, even though it was my aunt Cath’s house (my aunt Deedee died about ten years ago, and the only part of her house I remember is her kitchen, which I didn’t spend much time in). We were discussing the party/event, and I tried to be excited about it even though I really didn’t want to go. I was trying to push myself to be a bit more open to it.

This woman wearing a lavish gown, with her hair finely curled in shining mahogany curls came and handed me this clear plastic bag with what looked like cheaply made kid costumes, one for a Zorro type character and one for a lady. They had specific names. I was really happy there was a dude’s costume because it would be a helluva lot easier and more fun for me to wear pants and a cape than try to get all dolled up. I opened the bag and pulled out the gown first because it was on top, and I was immediately disheartened. Not only did it look flimsy and super cheap, it looked like the only thing it would fit was a doll. “I bet this would fit my arm,” I said, and pulled the bodice of the gown up my forearm. That’s about how big it was.

Luckily for the purposes of having a costume, I had a lavish sort of gown of dark colors, mostly violet, deep blue and perhaps green, which I was not at all looking forward to wearing because dresses are: 1. not comfortable, 2. Not becoming to my football player’s frame, and 3. I’d have to make my face and hair fancy to go along with the fancy shmancy dress, which would only serve to make me feel and look even more ridiculous. I’d look like a drag queen. I was being pressed to leave, and I felt like I needed more time. I said that I just needed ten more minutes and everyone seemed to be looking at me and treating me like I was crazy.

Then my mom and I were driving, and I was frustrated. We were driving and it was dark in the way that it is dark when there’s a big storm but it’s daytime, the sky charcoal black but light still comes through somehow from somewhere. I said the only reason I was going was because Kayla was going and since she didn’t seem to be going there now, I didn’t want to go either. My mom was like “Kayla’s already there!” and sounded particularly angry with me, and I said “oh, okay.”

So, we got to the place where the event was occurring, and I was hoping I would not be expected to drink because then people might see me as a downer, and I didn’t want to have to go through the bother of explaining why I don’t feel like drinking anymore. Kayla and Sarah vanished somewhere and I went into this women’s room to change. It was full of girls in various stages of dressing up, and some of the costumes were very intricate. This was another reason I dreaded this—I could not blend in with them, and knew I couldn’t. I went into a stall and closed the door, then realized it was conjoined with another stall, and suddenly realized there were no real stalls at all, just a labyrinthine maze of walls, toilets, mirrors, girls and crinoline. As I beheld this green-tiled sight, I turned around, opened the door, and left the room.

There was a food preparation area, and that was where I found my mom and my aunt. I figured I could just help them cook and not bother with the party that I had no interest in being a part of any longer. My aunt was making an oreo pie. She removed a crust from its cardboard pan and transferred it to a metal one, and had a bowl full of ingredients. She seemed to be mixing dough, but when she cleared a place off on the cupboard it looked like there was blood on the cutting board, like someone had just cut up raw flesh on it, and I pointed it out to her, but she just pulled a bowl over the blood and moved down a bit.

She poured a measure of oil into the bowl, and the oil threatened to overflow, and I tried to warn her, but she said “I know exactly what I’m doing,” and the oil overflowed into the container of Oreo cookies—the whole container welled with oil. My mom took the cardboard pan and arranged these things that at first glance looked like onion rings, but turned out to be raspberry cookies. She went to throw them away, but I asked what she was doing, and she said she thought these were just being tossed, and I said something about why would she assume instead of just ask someone, and took a few of the cookies out, trying one to see if they were awful. I said they were fine, and my aunt said, “Why don’t you shut your mouth?”

It didn’t hurt my feelings because I knew I was acting out of frustration, and I gave up trying to be helpful or a part of the event at all. Then I awoke.

Dream: The young and the old

I am not sure where to start because I went to sleep after I woke up from having this dream, so the details are a bit sketchy…

There were two groups of people, one of which seemed to be a little more immature and fun than the older more somber people. The younger ones were the kids of the older folk, and again, this took place at my aunt’s house (as an aside, I lived there for the first eight years of my life, but I don’t think that’s why so many of my dreams are there. I spend more time at my aunt’s house than at my mom’s much of the time when I visit).

I met the younger people first, and they had their hideaway where my cousin Rachel’s room was. It was a very busy sort of room, and I had the feeling that it was a two story room, if people climbed down this ladder, they’d get to the storage place. Imagine the younger folks as “Lost Boys” from a cyber punk future. They had a set up of electronics on the south wall that had monitors sensitive to touch, and the audio ran on a different sort of feed. Like you could run a television with a touch screen and run a radio signal through the television too. Then you could selectively mute whatever frequencies you wished to properly tune in to whatever it was that you were trying to tune into. The radio popped up as a square in the t.v., and I accidentally assigned it a frequency that locked in. It was 91.5 or 94.5—or maybe 97.5. I muted the station because I didn’t want to mess up whatever they had going on (it seemed new, as none of the radio frequencies had been established in memory).

I know there was something about a word in four or five letters that might have been displayed on the television. Okko or Okka or Oh.. something (not Osaka). It doesn’t seem that important but when I woke from the dream I repeated it to myself so I could remember.

I went outside and saw the group of older folk, and this older balding guy was sitting on the corner of the back porch, criticizing the younger folk for being messy, telling me I should hang out with them instead rather than the young folk, but I didn’t like his patronizing attitude. He seemed to be the father of one girl in particular, this heavier set blonde chick named Ursula (I think—it’s just the feeling I had). I told him that I had grown up in a chaotic atmosphere, and so the atmosphere of the younger ones didn’t startle me or put me off. Let them be how they are, I thought, and when they want to grow out of their situation, they will. (I think a lot of communication in this dream after leaving the younger group’s area was telepathic or at the very least, wordless.

Then it seemed like there were these two guys who were going to try to actively bring me somewhere else. I think they were going to bring me to the more somber group, but both of the lads who attempted recruitment were young—not as young as the teen-early twenties of the younger group, but about mid-twenties or early thirties.

I went between the houses to talk with my mom on the other side of the fence and the first dude tried to grab me there. The way the houses are, is that there’s about a 12 foot space between the two houses, and then there’s a length of fence aligned with the front of the houses, and then one running between the yards, so the fence is like a T. Somehow I defeated the dude (I think he was in black) and looked at my mom like “okay, everything’s all right.”

My mom made a face like a warning, and then I felt the swish of a broom against my legs. The other guy had poked a broom through the fence (and I thought in the dream that it was odd, considering the bristles and all, but he had a definite disadvantage with his weapon). It didn’t bend my knees or knock me down; I just grabbed the broom and jerked it through to my side of the fence, ducking down to see through the links. I think the fence was covered in vines, honeysuckle and morning glory or some such.

I could see his eye through the fence, and it was light, either grey or blue, and he wore round glasses. He stood, and I am reasonably sure it was a variation of the dude Killian from my last dream. He wore his hair down, and it was long and that gold, dark blond color, but he looked a bit sturdier (wider and taller) than in the previous dream. I recognized him, but not from any prior dreams, and it was as though my perceptions were split.

One set of perceptions had me jabbing him gently in the face with the broom handle. I preferred to knock him in the glasses because they protected his face, although I also hit him in the chin, forehead and cheeks. I wasn’t really trying to damage him, just convince him that it was better to go away. He didn’t seem to mind this. The other set of perceptions went to him and touched his face where I had struck him. On this layer of perceptions, he was smiling at me. This set recognized him and didn’t wish for him to be harmed in any way. I am not sure if these happened simultaneously or if the second happened following the first. Within the second set of perceptions, I held his face in my hands and had the distinct feeling of floating upward (as if I had a brief flash of the two of us lifting up from the ground, higher than the fence) when I woke up.

In which the ninja and I dream similarly.

So my roommate, "the ninja," as I call him, wakes up, showers and all that, and I go into the living room from the room I usually go to when he sleeps and I'm awake. When he finished with whatever, he came in the room and sat down, and said that he'd had a really strange dream.

He was sitting in a theatre with this blonde lady who was sad that he was with me instead of her. I was on the stage, moving props around. He said she was wearing heavy makeup with turquoise eyeshadow, and I thought maybe she was an actress in the play.

I told him about the girl in my dream (the spiral of rooms dream), and he started to describe her more carefully, her face and small nose. I asked if she was sort of thin and shorter than me, and he said she was thin, and went on to describe her hair, blonde with curls, just like in my dream.

Obviously, this is kind of disturbing because it fits perfectly with the reasoning that such a person would just climb into my bed knowing that it was mine. And yet, in the dream she reminded me of a dog, big time, from her eyes to the careful way she climbed into the bed, the way a dog does when it is doing something it knows it will get in trouble for but does it anyway. The ninja had a dream after the one about the blonde lady in which the dog he was close with came and asked where she could sleep, and he pointed to the place between his and my sleeping spaces. Perhaps the lady in our dreams is her!

Also, I looked up "Mark Killian" on Google (I picked Mark because I suddenly remembered a dream I'd had about someone I had a dream I was with) and there was an entry on imdb. Here's another kicker: He has the exact same birthdate as my ex, August 24, 1978. I found a picture, but I am not sure it's the same guy with the birthdate since there were camera person entries and one acting one. The actor didn't look like the dude in my dream, but people who would look like that guy would be pretty rare in today's world.

Anyway... weird, yet freaking awesome! :D

My earliest dream...

Me: Four or five years old. I have a cousin who is three years younger than me and had to spend a great deal of her toddlerhood in a lower body cast due to a malformation of her hips.

The dream: I am hiding behind a table that is set up in my living room, but I am above myself, looking down on the scene. It is one of the few dreams I have had in black and white (weird!) and there is a man there who has turned my cousin into a pair of mittens, the sort that are connected to one another with a string. He unravels her.

The end.

Dream: The Spiral of Rooms and personal boundaries

042308 Dream:

I was in a conglomerate of apartments, my old apartments, my aunt’s house, and someone else’s house that I’d been to before. The living room had a sectional sofa that bordered three walls, with a doorway in the middle of the center wall, and a black and white young cat played there. The door lead to a huge open room that connected with the hallway that opened up in the way my aunt’s kitchen connected to the hallway in her house (I’ll draw a diagram of the place, but I am pretty sure the rooms followed the Golden Spiral). There was an alternate way to get to this hallway, and that was to go through room after room on the outer edge of this spiral.

My cousin Rachel’s room was my room, even though there were two beds in it. I was still living with the ninja but he wasn’t there (I wished in the dream that he had been).

The dream started out with me in the couch room, looking at the couches. They were packed full of people. One of the times I went through the room, I counted at least seven people (including myself). They were couples, hormone driven twenty-somethings, and at first they were cuddling up, watching a movie or something, under blankets and I had the sense it was quieter than it had been before. I noticed the cat playing in the rectangle of dim light from the sofa room (it was brighter than it sounds). I decided I was going to go to bed, so I took the long path through rooms I think I’ve seen before in dreams (it always feels like that) and got to the hallway where my room was. I realized I could have taken the shortcut through the large room with the playing cat. I watched it jumping around playing with something I couldn’t see, and the flickering light from the television set (I never saw the T.V., actually, and come to think of it, there were no windows anywhere).

I opened the door, and saw a dark hump in my bed. Someone was sleeping in my bed. I left the room, quiet, and closed the door, and thought of what to do. I figured I could go slump into one of the living room chairs, but when I got back to the sofa room (again taking the long route), the couples had progressed into alternately sleeping and orally pleasing one another. One of the dudes noticed that I’d come into the room, and he pulled the blanket over his chick’s nakedness, but I again left quickly.

I went into my room, and now I was kind of annoyed that I’d been displaced, and it hardened my resolve. The person sleeping there was under the covers and was turned away, so I touched the person’s shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. It wasn’t enough. I shook a little harder, and asked “who are you, and why are you in my room, in my bed?” He rolled over, and looked at me with a big smile, then got up. “I’m Killian,” he said. He had glasses, and long, long curling gold hair, that deep vibrant blondish hue. I had the sense that he was wearing a long black peacoat and that he should be wearing a hat to go with it (thinking about it now) but he could have very well been wearing something else. I have the feeling that he was waiting for me (now, looking back), and he looked at me like he knew me, and was saying things I can’t remember anymore, but they seemed like jumbled schizo ramblings, which means I really should listen and try to remember.

I’ve never had such a string of meeting people in my dreams, remembering their faces, and have them say so much to me that I dismiss within the dream but want to know when I wake up. Anyway, he said everything on his way out of the room, and I went to close the door but couldn’t. Not that I physically tried to, but everything in me told me to go find Killian. So I left the room, closing the door behind me, and ran through the middle room where the cat played, running on the balls of my feet. I dashed through the sofa room, straight through to the outer spiral of rooms, running through them, hoping to catch him before he left. I couldn’t find him.

So I started to go back to my room, but I started closing and locking doors as I went. I started thinking that there were apartments within this circle-spiral of rooms, and that I was going to close mine off so more sleepy people didn’t come wandering into my room. One door was white with bronze colored fixtures, and the outer edges of the door stuck out further than the interior, which was slightly recessed. I thought that it might not be terribly sturdy.

When I finally got back to my room, a blonde girl was there, and she was standing in the room, quiet. She looked at me with mournful eyes (like a puppy) and lifted the covers to get into my bed.

“Hey,” I said. “This is my room, and that’s my bed. I know you’re sleepy, but I was just about to go to bed…” Seeming to ignore me, she climbed in, pulling the covers around herself. I looked at the other bed, which I could sleep on, but now I was frustrated by the constant lack of consideration I felt I was being shown, first people in my house, people doing each other on my couch, dude sleeping in my room, now this chick who didn’t have the decency to leave when I tell her that this is my room, my bed?

“Hey,” I said, and shook her shoulder. If she fell asleep, I wasn’t sure I could be mean enough to wake her again. She rolled away from my hand, and now I was pissed. I went to the foot of the bed and grabbed the wooden board. “This is my bed!” I said, and picked up the foot of the bed, then slammed it against the floor. I went on a shouting spree, saying this is my bed, my house, people had no consideration, she was being rude to me for no reason when I was letting everyone stay in my house, I just wanted to go to sleep, please, etc.

After what seemed like a few minutes of cathartic bed slamming (and it felt really good to shout and let it all out), the girl got up, still silent with the forlorn expression, and looked at the other bed. I apologized to her and said I wasn’t usually like that, but it was my bed, and I was very tired and frustrated, and I was willing to listen to her when I could actually stay awake to do so. I was going to offer her the other bed after so rudely removing her from mine, but she started out the door. I didn’t follow her, I just looked for a way to lock the door. I was sure there was a hook and eye thing on the door, but they looked like two eyes. I pulled on one and the chain seemed to pull out from where I don’t know. It was a strange chain set up (this is the second dream with a chain that didn’t work how it was supposed to) with safety pins and necklace chains, quite unreliable, and it ended up being really long. I figured I could MacGyver something that would hold, and I finally got it situated where it would be strongest and where I might be able to actually get some undisturbed sleep.

My interpretation of this is not only do I feel separate from the people in the living room, but I’ve been blocking out messages as if they were intrusions in dreams, from the hooded cult guy to this Killian. I even had a second chance within this same dream, but I was too lost in my preoccupation with feeling intruded upon and trying to stick up for myself and set boundaries to let anything else in, seeing how silent the girl was. I knew that the house was set in a sort of golden spiral within the dream somehow too, which, if I’d been thinking clearly instead of out of the programming in my subconscious, I might have taken notice.

I think a lot of this dream is, in fact, my thinking that I really do need to set boundaries with people. In the past I’ve been really open and sharing with people as far as with my apartment and finances have been, and in two cases, I ended up not only wiping out my bank account and getting abandoned with a 600 dollar a month lease, and in another case, about 400 dollars worth of video games and movies of my and the ninja’s stuff was stolen by the person I was letting stay there! I had a bad feeling about several things leading to this, one of which was getting the apartment because it was 600 dollars a month, and the other being the dude himself, who gave me a horrible feeling in my stomach, but I really, really needed a roommate, and a ton of people had looked at the place and no one called back.

I’ve been working on this balance between just being open, really open, and generous and actually preventing myself some “harm” because of this, trying to bring a tempering of wisdom to that unconditional love.

Another part of this dream is showing me that the subjects my conscious mind has been preoccupied with hasn’t yet stuck with my subconscious programming, and my subconscious mind is letting me know that by going overboard with the boundaries thing, I’m shutting out stuff I don’t need to be shutting out. I could have slept in that other bed in my room and shared my personal space with strangers that were just looking for a place to sleep. They weren’t rude or anything, just kind and reserved people.

Hmm I shouted two days in a row in my dreams. Wonder what that’s all about (the throat chakra sure was pulsing in my meditation last night, though).

Dream: One little, two little, three little submarines...

I had a weird night last night. I was trying to relax my body to attempt astral projection, and my mind began to drift into the state that is just before sleeping, and I had these weirdly worded inner voices all rambling about whatever they were rambling about, and then I would doze off, wake up to the weird “twilight” state of neither awake nor asleep, and the dozing off would begin again. This happened for a long time, and I am pretty sure I had a dream I woke up and remembered, and had a touchstone sort of thing to remember to recall the dream, but I am not sure if it was the dream I remember or not.

In the first part of the dream, I was with the ninja on a shore I’m not sure exists in Marquette, but it was supposedly at Presque Isle, in a place where the shore is sandy and slopes easily from the water up to the grass. I am pretty sure we were facing East. We were sitting on a rock or standing near one, and I saw a submarine in the water. It was a small sort of submarine, and it rolled up onto the sand and drove over to the grass on wheels. It took awhile for me to realize it was a submarine in the water, and I asked if it was one but didn’t think it was true. I kept thinking about how many things I might not be able to see because I had been conditioned not to see them or pay attention enough to see them. Four submarines drove up on the grass, and made a sort of enclosure. Soon, four more drove up to make another one. I am not sure of the pattern.

Then the ninja and I went to leave (and I think I am remembering that we went to Border Grill just because twice we’ve seen this person there), but there’s an older gentleman that hangs out around town who isn’t mentally/socially all there, and he walked up to me and told me that Jacob was dead. I could not remember Jacob for the life of me, although I was getting a weird image of someone who could be Jacob, and I tried to remember so hard it was as if I rewound the dream and found myself back on the shore, meeting Jacob before he went to the submarine enclosure.

I think there was more, but I am not sure.

Dream: Texans get in my face.

There was another dream about Dir en grey, and again, the lead singer was nowhere to be found. I knew that I was having a dream about this again, and wanted to go down and ask them what on Earth all this was about, but I don't remember anything else about the circumstances.

The next dream took place at my mother’s house, and it involved these two loud men I seem to categorize as Texans (no offense to Texans in real life). They were large men, tall, wide, wearing hats Don Imus would approve of, and got in my face to try to intimidate me. They kept coming in my mom’s front door (which we usually don’t use at all) and I kept telling them to leave and locking the door on them. Then one would come in the back, and unlock the front for the other one to get in. I told them I would call the police because not only were they trespassing, they were entering a home without permission. One of them leaned down to be more in my face, shouting “don’t you tell me what I can and can’t do, missy! Don’t try to tell a former police officer the law, I know the law.”

I raised myself on my tiptoes to be more in his face, planted my hands firmly on his shoulders, and directed him outside with gentle but firm pressure. I locked the door, but it didn’t stay totally closed, and he opened it again, so I slammed it shut this time before he could enter. It was a long tiresome process, but they finally stayed out.

I remembered thinking in the dream that I had to be resolute to stand against them, not to give one inch because they were unjust, but I did not know how to do so without pushing them away because they would not stop shouting, even when I was quiet and listened.

I also had a dream that I was in this apartment looking at the bathroom mirror, and I was very obese in the mirror, and I was shocked, since I remembered looking in the mirror yesterday and I was not so. There was also something with tapers for piercings that I managed to hide before I was “taken.” I’m not sure where I was taken, or by whom, but it seemed as though I was physically moved. The tapers were not just regular tapers, they had some kind of mystical ability that I equate somehow with chakras, maybe helping them open wider (that would be the logical interpretation).

Dream: A Concert and a Robed Figure

There was a Dir en grey concert, and the band members decided to put latex masks on that looked like themselves. They huddled together (except the drummer, Shinya), and when the lights came up and they began the first song, the audience burst out laughing. But suddenly there were a lot of people on stage, with added keyboards, and the person in the Kyo (the vocalist) mask had drums strapped to his person, and played them as if the song was supposed to be played that way. It looked like the real Die (guitarist) was playing keyboards with great skill, and then I noticed the bassist Toshiya standing up front without a mask, playing between someone with a Toshiya mask and a Kaoru (guitarist) mask.

One by one the masked people removed their masks, and the camera zoomed in on their faces, and the audience cheered. Not understanding Japanese, I did not understand what was being said, nor who the people were, but the audience loved it. Then the guy with the Kyo mask pulled off his mask. I was expecting it to be the real Kyo, and the audience went wild. It was a tall man with a shaven head and eyeliner on his bottom lids, with a line descending from the outer corner of the eyes, and I paid attention to what he said but I couldn’t make anything out except “Kyo desu!” at the end, which he screamed with his tongue hanging from his mouth. The crowd absolutely loved this for whatever reason, and Kyo was still nowhere to be seen.

t seemed like I was on a balcony overlooking the scene, where there were cameras and light rigs and I went through a back door, where a team was overlooking the audio and video feeds on monitors and giving commands to camera men. I passed through that room, and a tall hooded man in a deep blue robe approached me, and leapt up so I was carrying him. I zoomed out the back of my head to see how he was hanging on, and his knees were over my left shoulder. He clung to me, and I looked into his face while he spoke. I cannot remember what he said (it was in English, and he was Caucasian--everyone else in the dream was Japanese), but he knew he had little time to unload everything he wanted to say.

I could hear a part of what I think is a Dir en grey song in real life, so I’ll have to find it. It sounds almost like high-pitched monks repeating “hallelujah.” I think the robed man in blue was trying to tell me about a ritual that was taking place while everyone was distracted by the concert, but I thought he was crazy. I walked all the way downstairs with his legs over my shoulder, and into a lower basement level of the building where it looked like the room had been carved from white stone. There was a large pool of blue, blue water in the center circle. There was also large cushion/bed, circular with dark fabric, and I stepped up on it, knelt very quickly and bent in a way that flipped him from my shoulder and onto the mattresses, and started back up the stairs, him still talking, but not following me. My mother appeared at the foot of the stairs, to confirm that she knew who he was and that he was, in fact, crazy.

The end.

So, the main things are masks, my being left out of what the crowd was experiencing due to the language barrier, the man in blue and how I ignored him, and the white room under the ground.

Through this entire typing, I’m pretty sure the man in blue was trying to tell me something that the “Illuminati” or whatever kind of local self-promoting cult was doing, and that his message was somehow specific to me. Another possibility is that I've been reading and listening to stuff about the Illuminati lately and there's no reason to focus on it to the point where I was yesterday, so I could drop it off and not really give it too much thought. For one thing, if they do exist, they don't matter a whole lot outside of this world. While in this world it might be a good idea to learn about them and their philosophy, mostly to recognize it for what it is rather than to be led by it. Basically, if you have a good sense of your spiritual self, it's probably pretty difficult to be waylaid by Illuminist philosophy.

Where I was yesterday was that I actually had a very strong feeling that I felt like I could see into this older woman working at a higher end department store (high end for Marquette, mind you), and was certain that she was an Illuminist--not a high level one, of course, but at the same time I was sure she didn't know she was one. She smiled and said she would be back to see if we wanted anything in a few minutes, but I felt that she wouldn't come (she didn't), and that she was frustrated, annoyed, and in no mood to be around people. Of course, the Illuminist thing wasn't because of how she felt, but it was rather how I felt about her. It's not as though I was afraid of her, I just wondered what she did in the middle of the night.

Still, it's kind of ridiculous to go about and get that kind of feeling from people. I guess feeling that it's ridiculous isn't my reaction to it, but rather the reaction society at large would have at me thinking such things. It does seem as though most people dismiss the Illuminati as ridiculous conspiracy theory etc. I wouldn't run around holding tight to the idea that they do exist, because they may not--but it seems more likely to me that they do. Anyway, my mostly ignoring what the guy said and dumping him on a cushion to walk away from him seems to mean either that's what I should do or what I should not do. I don't know which is which, but I do feel that I can't really trust my dream mother too much because she usually seems to negate my experience, even when it's true, such as when I knew I was dreaming in the dream, although lately she tends to reiterate my own experience.

The underground, carved white room with the pool in the middle is something that seems to reoccur, though in different forms. Everything within it is circular, the room itself, columns, the cushions, the pool. It always strikes me as an absolutely beautiful place, a place where I would want to be, and also a secret place, but I don’t know its significance.

And, my mother in my dreams is usually telling me the opposite of what I know is happening in the dream, although more recently she’s been acting a little more like my mom in real life than contradictory and bizarre. Usually, in the past, what has happened with her in my dreams is this kind of thing:

Me: “Mom, I’m dreaming!”
Mom: “No, you’re not.”
Me: “Yes, I am, I can levitate!”
Mom: “No, you can’t.”

Me: “Mom, my teeth are falling out and I need to go to a dentist, asap!”
Mom: “No, you don’t.”
Me: *shows her my handful of teeth*
Mom: *sigh* “Well, go take care of the gazelle [in the backyard] and then we’ll go.”

Me: “Mom! There’s a tornado! We have to get under the house!”
Mom: “No there isn’t.” *tornado goes by*

Me: “Mom! There’s a big golden bird in the kitchen and I can’t catch it!”
Mom: “No there isn’t.”
Big golden bird: “BIG GOLDEN BIRD!!!”
Me: *looks at Mom and raises eyebrow*
Mom: *sighs and makes to get off of the couch*

This happens over and over again. Lately though, our dream conversations have mostly been her knowing something that I didn’t, and making it seem normal or acceptable in some way instead of denying me. Now it’s a “I’ve seen that before,” “yes, I know him, and he's a bad man,” and “yeah, he’s crazy.” It still has the same kind of function, keeping me in the dream unquestioningly, now that her flat out denials no longer work in the dream. Some things have been done so many times that I know if my teeth start falling out, I’m dreaming. If my mom denies things, I know I’m dreaming. I should somehow set up my dreamstate so I know that if my mom appears, I’m dreaming.

Anyway, I really don't know what on earth this dream was about.

Dream: Community busses in the future...

I was not entirely me, but that seems unimportant. I lived in a quiet sort of community in the future, where people were genuinely concerned about their kids learning to be expressive, bright, and caring. However, there were outside forces involved, particularly with the bus system. I was told to help transfer kids from one bus to another, but I didn’t know who was supposed to go where. On top of that, I was told to carry a cart onto the bus, and the only way I could accomplish that was to put it over my head. My instructions were all mixed up and by the time I figured out that I was helping kids transfer from one bus to the other (by putting them in the cart and taking them to the other, the cart was in a useless place on the bus itself. I asked “Who needs a transfer?” and my cousin Kayla, now in the dream, was only about two years old, stood up on her seat and waved really hard. I picked her up and wondered if she knew I was her cousin or not, and handed her to this guy who was taking her to the other bus. I waved to her and told her I’d see her later.

The guy was this guy who looked really familiar, so I wonder if I’ve seen him on television before. I’d recognize his face if I saw him. He was a bigger sort of guy and had blondish hair and a full beard and a really kind face.

Later, chronologically within the dream, it was nightish, and people tended to look at a video forum, like youtube, where people posted videos for whatever purpose, but a sort of news program had been set up like that so people could watch any day’s news at any time (way to keep them accountable, eh?). The news anchors went to the dude who transferred kids between the busses. He was standing in a kitchen, his kitchen, I’m guessing, and said he was going to comment on the bus system. He turned this wooden thing, like a spice rack, but as if the spice rack was incased within cupboard doors. He turned it, and I expected some information to be tacked to it, but instead he was going to give an informal talk, which seemed rare to see on the news posting.

He said “All my information on this came from a guy named --- (He was talking about the ninja). We have busses that go from here to here, and then a separate line that goes here to here, but we have no connections between these bus systems. What we need is an interconnecting system so that anyone can go from here to way over here,” he gestured with his hands to point out places, “with ease and without expending any natural resources, open for anyone to use at any time.”

The news anchors seemed a little stunned by this and said that it doesn’t really work that way because other people were unable to mesh with our community (I can’t remember the exact words, but it was something akin to not fitting in or clashing) and the blond guy shook his head emphatically and said that he doesn’t know a single elitist within our community that would ever reject any individual for any reason. His point was that anyone from anywhere was able to be welcomed and shown the love and respect our community was known for. Watching it, I thought he was brilliant for saying something that seemed “new.”

The blond guy seemed pretty emphatic that we the community must learn to extend itself to others and undercut the authority figures that have made the decisions about how our transports ran. We should be able to transfer busses to other places, that every being was part of our community whether they lived within range of our bus system or not.

I think I could make a short story about this, a kind of slipstream futuristic thing, and I can’t help but see the transfer from busses to other as symbolic, but I am not sure what symbolism it is. A big part of me wants to insist it’s about energetic steps from one to another and the transfer was from one world view to another, but I’m not sure. In the dream I pretty much followed my instructions and did not think. I was an observer and an inactive part of the dream itself, but I wasn’t totally me, either. I felt more like I was a man than a chick, but I never looked at myself. That happens a great deal though. Anyway, it was a neat dream and left me with a feeling of hope and positivity towards each other.

Dream: Tornado hits the bus

I was in a bus headed toward Saginaw. I was sitting on the right of the bus, and looking out the window, I saw a long, ropey funnel cloud high up, and slanted. I didn’t think we’d be getting close to it, nor did I think it would get closer to the ground, but we pulled into a downtown area, and the funnel was closer. As I watched it lowered and the end of its funnel seemed to blast apart the roof of a building. It trailed downward and broke bricks on the face of the building and I realized it wasn’t quite right. The tornado was pushing outward instead of drawing upward. It shifted and aimed at the bus, and I could see up the tornado, but the bus was shoved backwards. I could watch it from above at the same time that I was aware of being in the bus, but we were pushed almost sideways backwards. The glass over my window cracked.

People screamed but didn’t seem too interested in the fact that this tornado was not acting in a way that normal tornadoes did.

I watched cars get pushed back, but no one seemed injured.

Dream: Makeup and lectures

I had a few dreams, one of which was me standing in a store with other chicks, and we were putting on makeup. In the waking world, I have no interest in using it, but this is how the dream went. I had a thin stick of purple stuff that was supposed to be a general use kind of stick. It was slim, thinner than a pencil, and flat on both sides so that the lips could be put on either side of it for applying it to both at the same time. It left very little color, and suddenly I noticed in the mirror that my bottom lip had become quite red. Leaning closer to the mirror, I saw that the skin of my lip had torn and it was blood that I was spreading. I abandoned the idea of giving myself purple lips. I showed one of the girls I was with, and she had a thin line of violet over her eyelids, so I tried to use the stick for my eyes, rather unsuccessfully. I gave up on this and began to draw an elaborate bindu over the third eye instead.

(End of that dream) The last two nights before this one I’ve had dreams that were more like discussions, one of them about the anahata chakra, and another about J-rods or P52 Zeta Riticulans. In the one last night it was about the heart chakra and a body was open like an anatomy chart, revealing the energetic structure, the nadis and chakras. I ended up waking up somewhat unsure if I had dreamed or had woken up thinking about it for so long I didn’t realize I was awake immediately.

Dream: Running and hiding as an adolescent

I think I started out with some dude (it felt like I was my current age) and there was a certain route we took to get to a middle school. The school was rather sizable and was set in the middle of a city area. It didn’t feel like a safe place at all. The sunlight seemed to be a bright but pale morning light, and the air had that kind of morning chill to it that you’d get in early summer because you were dressed for the afternoon heat instead of the walk to school. Waiting outside for school to start were a bunch of kids, quite a few of whom were smoking, both cigarettes and pot. And then I was standing with them as one of them instead of walking with the dude at the beginning.

It felt somehow good to have a place among them, and I don’t know if I smoked anything or not, but we all started to head inside and it seemed like I was close with this girl who looked like Rachel Evan Woods’ character from the movie Thirteen. This guy came up with a posse of security guards or police officers and they grabbed a bunch of kids and caught REW’s wrist. I grabbed her and pulled her back, and he started trying to place her under arrest for drug use. I peeled his fingers from her wrist, and yelled something about he had no incriminating evidence against her. I noticed she had a green wristband with white lettering that said “Vegetarian” on it and paused to think “Oh, that’s cool.”

And then we ran out of the building and back up the streets the way I had come, happening to end up in her house. There were two doors and we secured them carefully and quietly, laying down on the living room floor with the curtains drawn. She turned the television on quietly, which I didn’t think was a good idea. I asked if she’d gotten the chain on the door and she said, with big eyes “no!” and got up to do it. I had trouble with the chain on the back door. Instead of having a round piece to fit into a track, it was like there were two broken pieces of metal that were supposed to somehow lock into place if the chain was straightened.

Anyway, then I woke up.

Dream: Michael Jackson dances off with the undead

Michael Jackson remade his Thriller video. It was mostly him, in white, on a bench in a huge nighttime area with grass behind him sloping gently upwards and into the distance, with a dark sidewalk running parallel to the screen upon which I watched it. This time he was battling the undead, but grinning while doing so, and the battle was more like a dance contest than anything else. Example, the green hands of the undead would reach from behind the bench to grab him, and he would grab the wrists, separate the hands, lower himself from between them, turn and end up on a different place on the bench, his smile never wavering. It was campy and ridiculous. Of course, I was watching this at my mom’s house, and I think she was in another room, but I called to her to tell her about it. It was ridiculous but enjoyable. I don't even remember Thriller being the song that was playing, so maybe it wasn't.

I am reasonably sure there was another dream after that one, but after waking and trying to remember it, all I got was this close up visual of a little girl’s face. She had dark hair and white skin, but her eyes were black holes from which blue moths or butterflies crawled out.

Dream: Motorcycle ride and cats in a bag

The dream I had upon waking the first time is mostly lost. There’s one trigger for it that will hopefully come up so I can recall it later. Oh, driving a motorcycle. That was it.

I’m not sure where I was coming from, maybe I’ll remember later, but I was driving through downtown Saginaw on this small kind of motorcycle on my way to my mom’s house. Before I took off from somewhere my mom was there, asking me if I was sure I could do it. I knew how to adjust gears and accelerate, though at first my legs felt like they were pedaling, and I thought that driving was such an undemanding physical act, that all I had to do was press an accelerator. This is all ridiculous, by the way, as though my legs were in another vehicle, though looking down I could only see this yellow motorbike. (I can’t drive anything in real life though, by the way. I’ve never had any kind of license and have never as much as touched a motorcycle). I know there was more to the dream, but I don’t recall it anymore. I woke up, went back to sleep and had another dream.

Dream 2:

I was at my aunt’s with my mom. My cousins were there, and Kayla’s (my older cousin) car wasn’t working, and this group of dudes got out of a car that pulled up in the driveway to work on it. It was higher off of the ground than in real life, and the exhaust was pointing back underneath the vehicle, and it burned, not quite like a flame, but more formless and transparent. I pointed it out to the dudes working, that it should absolutely not be heating up the underside of the car, and there should definitely not be flames near her gas tank.

Rachel, my younger cousin, picked up the old exhaust and aimed it under the car, and it too began to shoot flames, as if it was emitting gas that needed a spark to ignite. I kind of grabbed her back and was worried about the exhaust pipe she was holding exploding or burning her or something. Eventually it seemed like everything was fixed and the dudes who came were going to leave. My mom and I walked around the front yard to my mom’s yard and the hose my mom had brought from the backyard was running full blast. Rachel was standing next to the running hose with one of the dudes, and she was carrying this tiny plastic bag-like container that kind of resembled a goldfish that she’d filled with water.

“Great,” my mom or I said. “I wonder how long it’s been running.” I’m guessing Rachel said it was on when she came or something. So I bent to close it, and the hose was clear, and there were goldfish swimming against the current, trying to stay in the hose, which was elastic and flexible. I tilted the hose up to try to give the fish a chance to get further in before I turned the shut off valve, and finally got it without squishing any fish. When I tilted the hose up, the material of it stretched out into a large cylinder, like a tank, and I thought it was kind of neat, if my mom hadn’t put fish in it.

But suddenly, instead of being fish, they were tiny kittens, about ten of them, all sleeping. My mom started to talk about how they hadn’t been growing, and I said “of course not, they’re underfed.” My mom kind of nodded, and talked about how some of them had been developing horns, which I understood she was talking about feathers on ducks’ heads growing in a certain way. I said that they should be fully grown by now because they’ve been the same size for the last couple of times I had been there to visit, and she nodded, agreeing. “Mom, they’re cats. You can’t keep them in water or in this container.”

I picked up the bag, which was now devoid of water and made of a non-stretchy plastic with a zipper around its circumference. It was beginning to get steamy on the inside. I was surprised they hadn’t suffocated, and when I picked them up, their little bodies were warm. I was thinking that it was too bad I couldn’t take them home with me, wondering if my mom was losing it, and then I opened the container.

The kittens jumped out, but they were big, like a kitten that was six months old instead of a few days. I looked at the back of one, white and dappled (this was all underneath an apple tree in my mom’s front yard) through the sunlight from above, and thought, “this isn’t right.” Of course, as soon as I get that “wait a second” trigger, I wake up.