Dreams II

<When I have such vivid dreams as this, I wonder whether or not the brain really does produce DMT during REM sleep…  But that’s a WHOLE other topic for discussion… That aside, here are a few recent dreams.>

Dream sequence I

I’m on a date with a football-jersey wearing black man with long thin dreads.  I feel inadequate and when he sees me, he leaves.  We both leave things behind (as a matter of course/politeness?)  because I guess we both don’t want to be there.  The date is in a grocery store/Michael’s-type place.  I randomly see a childhood friend in an aisle of the store; we say hi and pass ways, nothing more.  I decide I need to put more makeup on, so I quickly duck out of the store, and go next door.  It’s very dark out, and there are intimidating-looking groups of Russian men and women hanging out.  We’re on a sidewalk outside, and there’s a bar next door.  One group of 3 people is standing nearby the body of a barefoot man lying in a pile of mulch.  I go inside this ragtag-type bar with dark carpeting on the inside, and people are dancing bizarrely, with no rhythm.  I need a quiet corner.  I find a stool at the corner of the bar, and as soon as I grab the chair, the bartender, a heavily painted woman, approaches.  “Mind if I sit here for a minute to do my makeup?” I ask.  “Sure, no problem.”  I proceed to line my eyes, but it’s all wrong, too thick, and little bits get smeared.  I’ll worry about it later.  Then on to the mascara; my lashes are as long as my chin, and terribly knotted at the end.  I try untangling them.  My face is streaked with black by now.  I know I need to leave, but I take a napkin and try to dab the streaks with a folded edge.

Dream sequence II

Myself and a group of about 5 people are struggling in the dark… we’re in some kind of prison, chain-link fence compound, where there’s a threat of zombies.  I’m hiding in a room with one person, and we see a zombie; the light catches its rotting face and its mouth hangs open crookedly, impossibly wide.  It groans terribly, and then I realize the groan is from my comrade, who has been bitten.  I run off, and realize that we’re being picked off one by one.  Another person in our group gets hit, and it launches him into a nearby garbage can… but when we look closer, the garbage can is connected to a HUGE garbage chute, and by now we see he’s a tiny writhing figure, and we know he’s gone.  2 left.  Then we start getting pursued through the woods by a tribe of Native Americans.  They’re shooting at us with guns and arrows, and their war cries are terrifying.  My partner and I swim and run for our lives, but eventually we get caught.  But instead of hurting us, we make a truce.  One of the Native American men wants me as his wife; if I accept, my friend can go home, unharmed.  I decide I want to be his wife, and send my friend off with well wishes and a message for my family.

Dream sequence III

Going to Mecca with Malcom X and others.  This is my second time going; the first time, I did a ritual involving my written dreams, and a copier incinerated them.  I can’t work the apparatus properly this time around, I need help.  Malcom X helps me work the machine, and I think he inadvertently saw my dreams on the paper as he was helping me.  This takes place in a gymnasium with golden wood floors, and Malcom X transforms into a colleague.  He talks to a Caucasian girl with long curly hair in Arabic; she was from somewhere in northern Africa, and absolutely beautiful.  I lay out a blanket I brought with me on the gym floor, and notice she didn’t have anywhere to rest.  So I moved over and she laid down next to me.  Her boyfriend joined her here, and because the blanket was so small, I could feel her toes touching my arm.  No matter how I moved, I couldn’t get away from the feeling, so eventually I just accepted her little toes dancing on my arm.

Then I’m moved to a restaurant, where up front I can’t hear anyone talking anymore, just feeling lighter, happier, and more spiritual.  We walk down a sunny road with a strange outcropping of asphalt over a storm drain that I tightrope-walk over, and we find ourselves in a backyard, with Aziz Ansari opening up the chain-link door, surrounded by sunlight and green, holding a large blue camera in his hands.

Dream sequence IV

I’m in ‘France’ at this furnished shack-type place with F.  Then I come home to the US, and I’m meant to have a photo session/professional meeting in my bedroom with a girl that reminds me of a friend.  She’s very pretty and dressed in all black… we have a short meeting, then I move on.  I go back to France without telling F, and settle in the shack next door to him.  (F transforms into a heavy-set woman with black hair?)  S/he hugs me, says hello when s/he realizes I’ve returned from the States, then leaves me to deal with my business.  I’m left to deal with flooding water, bathing a small child that resembles F, all while “someone” watches me with amusement… is it F watching me?  I don’t recall.

CUT to me on a deserted tropical island.  There are 2 rickety houses on the beach, and I’m stuck with a group of women.  We’re cut off from the world, so we try different things to make money/get attention, so we can be saved.  Eventually we leave our rickety houses, disillusioned, going in different directions.  I’m walking on the beach, and it’s almost dusk.  The ocean is on my left, and lush green forest is visible to my right.  As I walk along the beach, away from the plywood buildings that look like they’re about to collapse, I remember someone telling me once that if I leave, I might run into savage people that will kill me (strangers they don’t know).  I decide to continue, and take my chances.  As I go further, I find more and more development/civilization.  I enter a library, and by now I’m dressed nicely.  I go further and further upstairs, and the people there are quietly studying, not really paying attention to me.  The stairs get narrower each flight, and the last flight, I need to wait for a stern woman to descend first, and she takes a while.  Nevertheless, I wait, and make my way upstairs.

It’s a recording studio, and as I’ve been walking this whole time, I realize I just want to sing.  Whether or not I’m amazing, I just want to sing.  So there’s a funk tune being played at the moment.  The stern woman appears behind me, suggesting we put on a Drake and Josh album, it’ll be more suited to me.  I say no, please wait until this song is over.  I take out the album book to this funk tune (it’s all black with white indeterminable words), and I sing with the words I know.  I feel content and productive.

Dream sequence V

I went back to France, and I’m in an apartment that I share with F; it seems vaguely familiar, and everything is white/beige.  There’s a party going on with his friends, but I don’t recognize any of them, and I want to make a good impression.  They all brought items like booze and yogurt, so I was running around, mixing drinks and getting out spoons.

I can’t find enough spoons, I keep spilling drinks, my efforts seem to be falling flat.. so I ask F to put on some music.  Everyone seems energized, and then they all get up, with the exception of one girl sitting on the couch.  They all go in the bathroom and I feel kind of hurt that he didn’t invite me.  So I talk to the girl and her story doesn’t make sense to me at all.  I keep asking her to repeat the story, and it seems to keep changing; she doesn’t get annoyed with me, no matter how many times I ask her to repeat.  I’m drinking a milky-white drink that has bits of ice floating on the top, staying around the inner rim of the glass.  So I keep drinking and listening to the story, concentrating my hardest, and everyone soon comes out.  Everyone’s got tobacco/cigarettes that they were smoking.  They open up the windows and F comes over, sits down with me and the girl, and offers me a cigarette.  I bite off the filter end, and then get a bunch of tobacco in my mouth, and I keep trying to sputter and pick them out, like little ants.  When we speak with the girl, all 3 of us, her story seems to make more sense.  I tease F that I hadn’t had a cigarette in the 3 weeks since we’d seen each other, and he looks annoyed, so I quickly change the subject.  I don’t want to make him feel bad.  So I ask what he’d been doing with everyone in the bathroom, and he invites me to see.  It wasn’t such a big deal, and I could have asked to join.  So I walk behind him to see what was up, and then it occurs to me:  Why am I back in France after 3 weeks?  I don’t have a job or a work visa yet!

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