Dream Log: May 19, 2001

Woke up fully clothed, cold, as I was on top of the covers, and knew I had to go and brush my teeth, as it was some hours since I'd eaten that tub of Chunky Monkey ice-cream. Reluctantly went and did so. Lay there thinking that it wasn't quite right: I think I decided that I must be dreaming therefore the tooth-brushing wouldn't do anything positive for my teeth unless I did it while awake. (Woke up and did so. That was about 3 a.m.)

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At work, except that it was around the dining-room table, I has two tasks, and complained half-humorously about some aspect of each of them. One of them was writing an essay about someone who'd risen to prominence quickly, a young man, a war hero? My boss connected my two comments and thought perhaps the idea of this guy daunted me.

So here was there in person, to tell me his story, or let me ask questions, or whatever. Pleasant enough, but there was no need for him to be, as all it would take would be a bit of time on research and effort in writing. I felt slightly embarrassed for him having been dragged out to see me. I said I couldn't think of anything and it would be considerably more convenient for me if I could write to him if I needed answers, because then I could be clearer and more spontaneous in phrasing things.

Was looking at old newspapers, 1970s perhaps. I can no longer remember the connexion here.

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Third dream, set in a maze of tunnels, where we were warned about the rough sleepers of some Brazilian city. They were vicious, and carried knives and scalpels. So I ran through these corridors hurdling over sleeping figures, almost mummified in their tatters of blankets. Fortunately I only hit one, who rose up like a ghoul and lunged at me with a scalpel. I fought it off briefly by parrying with my knife.

Outside the other two in my team caught up with me. I found my reward was to kiss one, who was to become my partner. Hm, tolerable.

Why did I have rememberable dream two nights in a row, and not for months previously? Common element: had no alcohol either of those nights.

Apparently, I worked at some sort of TV News station. I was a technician working behind the scenes, but I was on location everywhere the reporters went.

For some reason, we were covering a fairly large event held at my old high school. There was a table out in front of the library that had pasta salad, pie, and cups out for the visitors. Behind the table were Mrs. McLeod (English Teacher), Crystal (a student) and Ralph Lauren. Ralph walked out in front of the table, and Crystal proceeded to go into detail on what he was wearing. (A black shirt with a beige sport jacket of some sort.)

I walked back into the event center and sat down on one of those metal fold-out chairs. To my left was our stations's reporter - a very attractive female with brown hair, probably in her late twenties. She had a maroon blouse on with a large gold pin, a matching maroon knee-length skirt, and light-colored stockings. She was sitting next to me, fiddling with some of the equipment.

She turned to me and asked if I knew how to work the machine on her lap, and I said yes. I started explaining the details of the functionality of the unit, what it does, and what it doesn't do. She pointed to the pop-out bays on the bottom right and asked "Do you know how these work?"

I popped out one of the bay covers, and began to explain their use. As I started talking, she un-crossed her legs and draped her right leg tightly over my left leg. At this point, I became visibly nervous, and continued explaining the bays, albeit with a shaky voice. Of course, she noticed this, and began to very slowly move her leg up and down. Factoring this in with my current state, my nervousness increased exponentially within a matter of seconds. I had no idea what provoked her into this action, but by no means was I complaining.

I shakily finished my explanation, and she smiled brightly and said "Thank you!" She kept up her motions as we continued small-chat for a few minutes, when the station manager walked in behind us. We both stood up quickly, and the station manager announced that she would be covering the event.

That left myself and our reporter with nothing to do for the evening.

Then some asshole outside woke me up with his car horn.

(I apologize for the lack of umlauts)
I'm in German class. The teacher, somewhat annoyed by me blurting out the answer to every "Was bedeutet 'foo'" question he asked, sent me to some underground [labyrinth where I befriended a snake named Scott. He was a Scot, no joke. He spoke deutsch, however, but he always referred to it as dutch. The conversation was mostly filled with basic conversational German that I had learned in the past couple of months, but he would occasionally slip something in from my childhood fluency in German that was long forgotten when assimilating to American culture. He also talked about Pancakes a lot. "Ich mochte Pfannkuchen, Gib mich Pfannkuchen!" "Gibt es Pfannkuchen?" (I'd like pancakes, give me pancakes and Are there any pancakes?) When I gave him pancakes, he would curl around my body and shake. This was like having an orgasm in my ankles.

Scott looked at me and told me that the bell was about to ring and that Herr Hoppe would let me borrow his bicycle to go home if I missed the bus. I was stuck in the labrynth however, and so Scott took me to his house and picked up the telephone with his teeth and called Herr Hoppe.

"Hoppe!"
"Ja, ist Andi da?"
"Hier ist Andi!" (he had a very excited tone the entire time)
An image appeared on the wall, a big box with a diagonal line split between it and in the center of the line was a circle with a telephone in it. On each side of the telephone was an image of Scott and Herr Hoppe.

"Andi, Aimee ist bei mich. Kann sie gehen?"
"Nein! Sie ist ein blod madchen!"
"Bitte, Andi."
"Doch."
"Doch?"
"DOCH!"
"Warum sagst du 'Doch?'"
"A SHIP IS LANDING ON THE DOCK! RUN!"
A big wave came splashing into the labyrinth and I was wisked away into a big sewer and as I hit the end, I awoke.

Dreamed of many, many concentric circles which were filled with Hebrew and Latin words,

I was directed to the center where there was a black circle, like a dot.

As I focused upon this center the words "Golden and Blessed Casket" came into my consciousness. Those words are in fact the title of an alchemical book that my friend Charles Waine gave me. It is a collection of rare and enigmatic tracts on Hermetic Science.

Well, what a weird dream...

Apparently, it was in some kind of school which vaguely resembled mine, except for the fact that it was on a smallish asteroid which was orbiting some unfamiliar planet. Somehow, a friend of mine had taken the school hostage, along with a girl I know. They also had a clone of some unfamiliar man with them, and all were armed.

Somehow, it was my job, along with a clone of my friend and there and another unfamiliar man, to infiltrate the school and eliminate those who had taken it hostage. Fortunately, everyone else had been evacuated, so it was just us and them in there. I was armed with a sniper rifle, while the others working with me were armed with a shotgun and a pistol. There were a few brief skirmishes between us and them, one of which resulted in my former friend getting shot in the leg.

However, it all ended when the clone helping me was able to drive them into the cafeteria, and while he was distracting them I was to use my sniper rifle to finish them. Though it pained me to do it, I knew it had to be done, and I got a good shot on my former friend in the back, and took him down. The girl who was with him took off running when she heard it, and I got her in shoulder; not enough to hurt her badly, but enough to keep her from running while we arrested her.

However, just as I finished doing that, the clone who had been working with them rounded the corner on me, and shot me point blank in the chest. With my last ounce of strength, as I was falling down, I managed to get off one shot at him, and finish him off.

I awoke before I hit the floor. Maybe I should start getting to sleep a little earlier.

Strange dream indeed last night...

It seemed that sometime in the not-too-distant past, I hurt my buffalo.  It must have been bred for food.  But what I actually went through in the dream was trying to comfort the animal, you see I had cut a piece off the back of its neck.  I knew the animal hadn't complained, and was happy that I was there with it, treating it well at this point.  It didn't seem any worse for the missing muscle and fur, although the skin was healed by now.

I felt so bad.  I didn't want any more harm to come to this beautiful creature.  However, I also had this thought in the back of my mind, about the way it wasn't angry with me in the least.  Something between sympathy and disgust.

The buffalo lived in the garage and was smallish and cuddly, yet life-size and strong.  The dream very likely means nothing at all, but I literally couldn't help interpret it a few hours after I awoke, when I remembered it.  Not a concious effort, more like thoughts streaming into my mind about what it might mean.

The smallish stature could indicate a recent ex-girlfriend.  I don't feel bad about anything, but I could have skipped some of the comments I've made.  I wasn't mean per se, the breakup was agreeable, we both had been going back and forth for awhile realizing this or that wasn't working.  But she is someone I grew fond of protecting.

The nature of the buffalo also could indicate a recent dating experience.  A sweet girl who would probably try hard to please me if I gave the opportunity.  But there just weren't any sparks, sorry. Someone I'd like to cultivate a friendship with, but doubt much more would develop.  So it feels slightly one-sided.

The last of the likely interpretations might seem unusual... my car.  It is one of the few things I've treated myself, something to show for my hard work.  I love the car in the way that one can love an inanimate object.  But I haven't been able to drive for awhile, and just started again yesterday, due to recent surgery.

The common thread is something about not being perfect.  Having a tinge of remorse for something out of my control.  Wishing things were different somehow, but knowing I did no wrong.

The jury's still out on whether dreams are randomish connections being purged from the mind - maybe higher level stuff like forgiving oneself, or a strengthening of connections allowing one to integrate internally - maybe bringing up things that need to be dealt with by an individual.  Or maybe it's even more random, and really means nothing.  But they surely seem meaningful as the patterns are necessarily similar to one's own thoughts and experiences.