Silent dream
More dreams. I don't know if I'll be able to relate them very well, because in retrospect they make a lot less sense than my plot-driven dreams usually do. Even for me. They were very intricate and detailed, though, but I feel removed from them now.
The first dream I remember from last night was sitting on the back steps of my apartment (sort of - dream places are always off somehow, and so was this one) but I was listening to these two guys who were also sitting back there complain of how they don't know their neighbors. Eventually they looked up, and introduced themselves to me. I felt shy, and odd, like I was sure I was missing something. Were they hitting on me? Making fun of me? And then the dream became this odd college-dorm/game show something. And I wasn't me anymore, and the situations were all teen-angst wacky. One girl was sure this guy was her boyfriend, and they were dating, but that's not what *he* meant by kissing her etc, and so he felt free to be kissing someone else ... unnecessary drama, and awkward unhappiness. I'm not sure what that's all about.
This morphed into, I was part of a security detail for a head honcho for this, um, all I can think of is Charlie's Angel's type spy agency. He was in a closet/phone booth, giving orders to someone. The booth was more like a custodian's closet, with an accordian door, white paint, brown wood, and an old fashioned phone right inside the door, but otherwise empty, with sickly gray lighting. I knew there were bad guys after head honcho guy, and I got in the phone booth with him, made him get off the phone and hide in the back of the closet. The door was shut on us, and nailed closed. The closet reached back further than the opening of the door did, and so I squeezed us back there. Machine gun fire ripped through the door, and I waited for the bad guy to realize he had to angle the bullets to the back, but he didn't. Dust and shards of wood were flying. Eventually the shooting stopped, and I used the back of a wrench or something to hit the nails out from the inside so we could force the door open. We ran and got into a yellow flying car, and joined all the other flying cars. Ours was kind of round and didn't have a top on it. I felt really exposed. We ended up inside a giant tunnel that was a highway for all the flying cars, and then there were fountains, and we got in one, and it was like a fountain/elevator, and then we were all bath toys. Or babies. Or something. Which ... I don't know, I kind of lost the thread of the narrative there. Or the thread of the inner-reality. Such as it was.
The next part of the dream(s) I remember I was entering a performance hall with a large group of people. The walls were red and gray and it was loud, like a converted gym. The place was packed, and we were looking for our seats. Lori (yes, you) was there, and there weren't enough seats for our group, so I sat on Lori's lap. She was asking me if I could tell where "the butcher" was. He was in one of the singing groups, and I'd met the group. There were about eight or a dozen big, hairy men (think 70s Hell's Angels) in the group, but I wasn't sure which one he was. I told Lori as they entered "That's the group, but I don't know which one he is." SHe said "You will," in this tone of voice that made me a little nervous. Then she wasn't there, and I heard someone describing how the last time they met up she'd done ... something. I can't remember what exactly, only he was some kind of bad guy, and she'd turned him in and ... had his son? Something? And basically humiliated him. Threatened to kick his ass. OK, Lori's bad-ass and all, but, um, what? Anyway, the next thing I knew, she was confronting one of the big hairy guys and telling him he was going back (to jail, I think?) and that he was only allowed to look at her during the performance, and she had his son ... there... only, he wasn't really the butcher's son, in reality he looked just like one of the other guys in the group, and the joke was on, um, someone. Er. I don't know. The son was all grown up and had a huge family of his own, and they were walking in and smiling and calling out to people, and the guy he looked like was laughing and laughing ... In the dream there was horror and humiliation and rage, and now it just doesn't make any sense at all. I then dreamt that I was *telling* Lori about this dream, and trying to explain it, and it worked a lot better in the dream explanation than it does here. Maybe I have to be asleep to understand it.
Anyway, it's weird, it's incoherent, it's my head. But it was pretty detailed, to the point where I still remember what the buildings look like, the corners of the room, the wodges of the irregular paint, the expression on the butcher's face. (He had a lot of greasy grey beard. And he was huge. And pretty pissed.) With that much detail and my dreaming self trying that hard to remember it all, I thought I'd better write it down. Feel free to ignore. Move along, it's just my brain.
The first dream I remember from last night was sitting on the back steps of my apartment (sort of - dream places are always off somehow, and so was this one) but I was listening to these two guys who were also sitting back there complain of how they don't know their neighbors. Eventually they looked up, and introduced themselves to me. I felt shy, and odd, like I was sure I was missing something. Were they hitting on me? Making fun of me? And then the dream became this odd college-dorm/game show something. And I wasn't me anymore, and the situations were all teen-angst wacky. One girl was sure this guy was her boyfriend, and they were dating, but that's not what *he* meant by kissing her etc, and so he felt free to be kissing someone else ... unnecessary drama, and awkward unhappiness. I'm not sure what that's all about.
This morphed into, I was part of a security detail for a head honcho for this, um, all I can think of is Charlie's Angel's type spy agency. He was in a closet/phone booth, giving orders to someone. The booth was more like a custodian's closet, with an accordian door, white paint, brown wood, and an old fashioned phone right inside the door, but otherwise empty, with sickly gray lighting. I knew there were bad guys after head honcho guy, and I got in the phone booth with him, made him get off the phone and hide in the back of the closet. The door was shut on us, and nailed closed. The closet reached back further than the opening of the door did, and so I squeezed us back there. Machine gun fire ripped through the door, and I waited for the bad guy to realize he had to angle the bullets to the back, but he didn't. Dust and shards of wood were flying. Eventually the shooting stopped, and I used the back of a wrench or something to hit the nails out from the inside so we could force the door open. We ran and got into a yellow flying car, and joined all the other flying cars. Ours was kind of round and didn't have a top on it. I felt really exposed. We ended up inside a giant tunnel that was a highway for all the flying cars, and then there were fountains, and we got in one, and it was like a fountain/elevator, and then we were all bath toys. Or babies. Or something. Which ... I don't know, I kind of lost the thread of the narrative there. Or the thread of the inner-reality. Such as it was.
The next part of the dream(s) I remember I was entering a performance hall with a large group of people. The walls were red and gray and it was loud, like a converted gym. The place was packed, and we were looking for our seats. Lori (yes, you) was there, and there weren't enough seats for our group, so I sat on Lori's lap. She was asking me if I could tell where "the butcher" was. He was in one of the singing groups, and I'd met the group. There were about eight or a dozen big, hairy men (think 70s Hell's Angels) in the group, but I wasn't sure which one he was. I told Lori as they entered "That's the group, but I don't know which one he is." SHe said "You will," in this tone of voice that made me a little nervous. Then she wasn't there, and I heard someone describing how the last time they met up she'd done ... something. I can't remember what exactly, only he was some kind of bad guy, and she'd turned him in and ... had his son? Something? And basically humiliated him. Threatened to kick his ass. OK, Lori's bad-ass and all, but, um, what? Anyway, the next thing I knew, she was confronting one of the big hairy guys and telling him he was going back (to jail, I think?) and that he was only allowed to look at her during the performance, and she had his son ... there... only, he wasn't really the butcher's son, in reality he looked just like one of the other guys in the group, and the joke was on, um, someone. Er. I don't know. The son was all grown up and had a huge family of his own, and they were walking in and smiling and calling out to people, and the guy he looked like was laughing and laughing ... In the dream there was horror and humiliation and rage, and now it just doesn't make any sense at all. I then dreamt that I was *telling* Lori about this dream, and trying to explain it, and it worked a lot better in the dream explanation than it does here. Maybe I have to be asleep to understand it.
Anyway, it's weird, it's incoherent, it's my head. But it was pretty detailed, to the point where I still remember what the buildings look like, the corners of the room, the wodges of the irregular paint, the expression on the butcher's face. (He had a lot of greasy grey beard. And he was huge. And pretty pissed.) With that much detail and my dreaming self trying that hard to remember it all, I thought I'd better write it down. Feel free to ignore. Move along, it's just my brain.