Tonight's dream was particularly unusual in that I was not the main character, my friend was (maybe, see below). I was often in the scene somewhere, acting as a narrorator, but I was only an observer. Thus, it is possible that some of the things that I saw in the dream did not happen, even in dreamtime, but were instead my attempts to figure out what had passed while I was away.

The dream took place outside of chronological order, but I will try my best to rearrange it into chronological order for purposes of easy reading.

A woman is in a prison cell when a man comes to visit her. Both of them look very different from normal. They are both very overweight, and even their faces are wrong. Hair color was wrong, too. Both of them should be light blonde, yet they both have reddish-brown hair. The man has brought the woman a cake, but it is unfrosted. They sit down in the cell as the warden (who looks exactly as he should) watches from the door.

"You brought me a cake!" she says.

They banter back and forth, and the man cuts the cake, although not in wedges, but rather using parallel horizontal lines. They both sit down to eat. The woman crunches on something in the cake. It does not contain a file or any other tool. Instead it contains pills of some sort. It is not revealed what kind of pills these are.

The woman and the man are lovers, although they did not become so before the woman was in jail. I do not know why she is in jail. This was long ago.

Now she is out of jail. This is some time later, although now everybody is of normal weight, so they all tend to look younger. My friend, the man, looks like himself. The woman looks like Lex from Sofia Coppola's The Virgin Suicides. Now I am in the picture, too. There is a younger sister, a brounette like me. The two of us will flirt occasionally, but mostly just to avoid the third-wheel feeling created by the two love birds.

Some scenes are repeated several times throughout the dream. We are moving things out of a basement. Small things mostly, so we can take several at once. We are outside at a park with a gazebo.

There is one point where the younger sister and I flirt more lustily than usual. We are rolling about on her bed, and she is just about to kiss me when she gets up and walks out the door of the bedroom. I follow behind at a short distance, trying to figure out what's going on and when we can get back to the making-out. The hallway has a banister on one side that looks down to the first floor (the bedroom being on the second). This part of the architecture is similar to a house I lived in when I was a child. The younger sister looks down and sees the blonde girl.

"Do you mind sharing?" she asks with a hint of laughter.

The blonde girl shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head slightly in a "do what you want" way. As far as I know I have no relationship with her, so I do not know why the blonde girl would be "sharing" me. I wrap my legs around the younger girl and we go back into the bedroom. More making out occurs, this time with kissing, instead of just mad, childlike rolling about with sensual hugging and petting. Then suddenly, I realize that the younger sister has disappeared, and I am with the blonde girl instead. I am slightly surprised, but it makes a strange kind of sense so I continue to make out with her. She slides out of her jeans and is wearing the tiniest of white g-strings.

It occurs to me that I might have also turned into my friend. Or, if I haven't turned into him, that I was him all along and didn't notice. We could be separate personalities in the same body. I have not seen or read Fight Club, but it might have been something similar to my understanding of what was going on in that book. The girls might also be one and the same, and anyone who has read The Illuminatus! Trilogy will understand how.

I don't often dream, but I remember this one so vividly. My alarm woke me up about an hour and a half before I needed to wake up, so I turned it off and went back to sleep, where I found myself in a lucid dream.

It began in a mall - Eden Prarie Mall in Minnesota, the mall where Mall Rats was filmed. Even though I know it's gone through some renovation, the mall I am in is the mall of my teen years; cheesy late 80's decor, every second store front is empty, terrible muzak plays in the background everywhere.

I am being chased. I don't know by who, but there's a bunch of them. They all want something from me; I don't know what it is, but I know that it's actually inside my body, that they'll have to cut me open to get it out. I'm not running, I'm briskly walking from one store to another, backtracking, hoping that whoever is looking for me will lose my trail. I know that it's not working, that they're getting closer with every second. I bolt out of a store, and immediately run into a group of my friends. Ah, safety in numbers. The group of friends is comprised both of friends from back home in Minnesota, and a few people from my college in Iowa. I'm glad to meet them, they're glad to meet me. Some rather notable friends are missing, and I force myself to ask the others where they are. No one knows.

As we move through the mall, I get a sense of foreboding. My friends begin to demand things of me. I reply that you're only as good at something as you think you are, that practice only makes perfect if you are ready on a cosmic level to get better. I remember saying that exactly, but not why I said it. My friends give me a blank stare. Then they start demanding the same thing, insistently: "Where is it?" and, "Just give it up, Bob, we've been waiting long enough." And then they rush me.

I force my dream-paralyzed legs to run, and I take off past a number of closed shops in a poorly lit part of the mall. I find myself on the second floor, so I race down a set of stairs - I know my car is on the first floor parking lot. The stairway doesn't stop, though. It extends far longer than I remember. My friends are gaining. I force myself to hop over the edge, down a full flight of stairs. I land, and find myself on the first floor, well ahead of the pack. I run through a chinese restaurant. There is no exit. My pursuers are so close, I can feel them. I throw myself through a window, and then force the dream to propel me through the glass doors on the other side.

I run to my car, get in, drive away. There is no sign of my friends. I hear my father's voice in my head, saying, "Well, nothing to do but re-apply and try again."

Music Men & Hit And Run

  • I enter a strange house shaped like long cylinder lying on its side (like a quonset hut) and recessed into the ground. Inside I meet my friend Adam and his brother Erik. Erik is working on a computer when I arrive. The room is bright and colorful, though a rather cluttered space. The light comes from large skylights embedded in the ceiling. Adam puts some jazz music on the stereo and we have a listening session. We discuss the music we're hearing on an abstract level, deeply impressed as we are with the improvisational prowess of the players. Soon a mutual friend of ours arrives: John Whooley, a professional musician locally famous in Santa Cruz. We all dig the tunes some more before leaving the house to go to a jazz show.

  • I'm with my friends Allen and Mario, having just exited a strange house in a strange neighborhood. We all know this is a dream and are having fun runnning through the residential streets. We revel in our ability to overcome the stereotype of sluggish dream-running as we speed down the street. We pass a park on our right and each of my bounding steps stretch ten, fifteen, twenty feet apart. I imagine we must look like running wolves. I call out the idea to my friends, "We're running like werewolves!" At that moment, three enormous wolves with brown fur bound past us on our left, going the opposite direction. They look like the wolves from Princess Mononoke, and only have time to snarl in greeting before they're gone behind us; we don't look back. A few seconds later I see a car coming towards us fast, head on. I easily leap over its whole length without breaking stride. I stop and turn to watch Allen attempt the same feat. Everything moves in slow motion as I see Allen dodge slightly to the left of the car. His legs move through a hurdler's motions as his body skims over the driver's side fender and mirror. The car speeds away leaving us three grinning at each other.

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