Monday, September 03, 2012

Dream - Trying to fix tardies at school, and other confusion

On Monday, Memorial Day, May 31, 2010, around 10:00 AM-12:50 PM, I dreamed I was at school, near the end of the term, maybe the end of the whole thing. I had had several tardies, along with some other students. They had gotten very strict about it, to the point where if you weren't there when the bell rang you had to go to the office and get it taken care of. The teacher gave you a tiny thing to take with you, some little paper. Now they even had something where the office gave you tiny little colored things, maybe about an inch and a quarter, mostly gray blue, that had a phone number on it that you had to call to get it settled before you could go back to the class.

It was near the end of the school day. After a class a teacher told me he had fixed some of my tardies. I had had four, but he showed me on the little card, about the size of a vertical business card, that he had taken off three, X'ed them out and fixed it so that they were canceled. I still had to go to the office for the other one. He had done it to some other people, too.

I went to the office. A girl was ahead of me, and the person was explaining to them about the phone number. It was an odd number, given in letters for the last four digits. It didn't seem long enough for a phone number, but I was probably expecting an area code, though I didn't think of that back then. The calling-a-number requirement was something that had been initiated by the corporate people in charge, and apparently covered all the schools owned by that company.

It was getting late and I had to get back to class, but there turned out to be confusion about the class. The two that I had to go to were being held at the same time. Some of the students were in one room and some in the other. The students realized what had happened and a lot of them were joking about it, though some seemed subdued and worried, more in one of the rooms than the other.

I didn't know what to do. I went back and forth from one room to the other, trying to find a teacher I think. When one finally showed up, he started immediately running the class. I tried to talk to him about it, but he wasn't interested and just looked mad, like I had bothered him for something that wasn't his problem. Meanwhile the bell had rung and I was late for two classes being held at the same time. I saw the students in the one I was in bending over their tests, hard at work.

I went back to the office, trying to explain what had happened. The woman gave me the two little colored papers and was carefully explaining about calling the number, and then I had to give them a number off the paper apparently, and maybe explain my situation. She didn't give me a solution about the classes being held at the same time, maybe just saying that she would have to look into it.

I left and hurried down the hall. The place was set up something like DeVry, a big square with a hallway that ran around the edge with rooms on each side. I was trying to find a phone. I think I saw a couple, but they were already in use by other students trying to fix their tardies. I finally left to go somewhere else, that I thought would have phones. I think I left one of the little pieces of paper on something on the covered sidewalk around the school.

I went to the other place and was going through it. It seemed like a hospital, and was laid out like DeVry. Going down the hall quite a ways I came across some phones. They were hooked up to some video displays set into the walls. Some of them were being used. I saw a video game was being played on one, and it had something on the screen that might be important, a little rectangular box with numbers in it, and a smiling and frowning creature standing off to the right, who might have been an ogre but who looked something like the Looney Tunes Tasmanian Devil character. I couldn't get the person to give up the phone to me. A man was letting his son play the game to pass the time so he would have something to do while they were waiting, someone was having an operation evidently. A phone to the right of it had another video game being played, something with a genie I think. It didn't look useful to me.

I went back and forth between them for a while. There was another phone or two to the left of them, but I think one of them was being used by someone to make a call. I wanted to use the video game with the box on the screen that might be useful too, and I didn't know if I could find it on my own. The person playing the video game that had the box finally stopped and left, with his father, but now the screen was dark.

I started looking at the number on the little piece of paper again. It was not the number I remembered seeing on it earlier, the same one that had been given to the others. Now it was a regular number and it had one of those free area codes on it, starting out something like 1-877-... I was puzzled, but assumed I would have to call this one. I couldn't understand why there had been a change. I wondered if I had to give them a number when I called. I had left one of the little papers back at the school, and wasn't sure if it was still there. It would delay me a lot to have to go back and get it. It was getting late and the classes were almost over now, I thought. I wasn't sure what I could do to fix it, but I would try to explain what happened and hope something could be worked out.

I went off to try to find someone who could explain about getting into the program I had seen on the display, the video game. I started trying to go to the upper stories, hoping to find a nurse or someone who could explain it. I went to one of the corners to take the stairs, but I found that they were being worked on. They were roped off with yellow tape, and a young man and a young woman were painting them. They were maybe eight to ten feet apart, doing different sections. The wood had been kind of a dirty dark color, but was being painted yellow. The stairs themselves were much simpler constructions than I had expected, being simple boards nailed together, even the railing just seemed to be 2 x 4's. It was a very wide open area, much more so than I expected, with the stairs going back and forth beside themselves, at shallow angles.

I reached out and tentatively touched and took hold of the yellow tape, preparing to go under it anyway. I paused and asked the young man if it was okay if I used the stairs, I didn't need to touch the railing and I would try to just walk on areas that hadn't been painted or were already dry. He said sure, somewhat jovially, and said to watch out for the paint, some of it was wet.

I started to carefully walk onto the stairs. Some of the steps were partly painted, sometimes with the painted part not covering it completely, not put on heavy enough to get into the surface everywhere, creating a kind of fog effect, with a lot of the old surface showing through, like the brush or roller had been too dry when the paint was applied, and it would have to be painted over again. While most of it immediately ahead of me was dry, the one I had to step on first was wet, one of the partially painted ones. I stepped on it and quickly on to some dry steps, apologizing. I was touching the railings too, but they were either partly dry or hadn't been painted. I was heading up, at least at the moment. The stairs also led down, to lower levels.

I was talking to them about what I was trying to do, and I think one of them mentioned a way to speed it up. I saw a little wooden boat that had drifted up, outside the railing, floating I guess on air, though it seemed almost like a dark ghost water. The boat was simple in construction, like the stairs.

I climbed over the railing to it, talking now like Clint Eastwood, and maybe a little like Humphrey Bogart. I came to look like Clint Eastwood now, and it seemed to have changed to a mystery, and something about some evil people who had gone upstairs and were waiting for me, trying to stop me. They had been sent by someone. I talked some about that and about what I was doing there. I was confident that I could take care of them. There would be others too, sent to stop me when I was trying to leave, and I also had to solve the mystery of the numbers, and get that taken care of, and the answer to that mystery should be somewhere upstairs.

Earlier in the dream I had been driving to school in the gold 1970 Cadillac. There had been some problem with other cars, about them trying to stop me, threatening to crash into me, but the Cadillac, already big and sturdy, got even bigger and taller, and with even thicker sheet metal, and crashed into them, knocking them away, bouncing them way back or to the side and sometimes even sending them tumbling. I had stopped there on the street and talked to someone about it, and about what was happening, and about what the Cadillac could do, before getting in again and doing it some more. I don't remember much about it, though.

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Dream - The policeman, the UFOs, and the long garden hose

On Saturday, May 29, 2010, around 3:00-11:30 AM, I dreamed I was in the Phoenix area, it was dark, and I was driving. I'm not sure what car I was in, possibly the dark blue 1987 Oldsmobile 88, but it could have been the gold 1989 Oldsmobile 88, or even something else. I went up a road going to the north-northwest. It seemed to be on the east side of Phoenix. It wound around a bit, going up, getting up into some mountains that were fairly shallow, not very high, maybe a few thousand feet. It was something that doesn't exist in real life, though there are small mountains around Phoenix.

A policeman went up there, too. I was worried that he might try to stop me for some reason, some imagined violation, but he turned out to be friendly. He kept repeating his name, and then sometimes going into a longer thing about what he was doing and what his duties were, something like "I'm Officer such-and-such, ..." (I don't remember what his name was anymore).

Up near the top of the mountain, in a small, slightly lower area surrounded by ground and peaks that were a little higher, an area that seemed to be partly cut out of the mountain, there were some small buildings, and more further on. It was some kind of government thing. They were checking people that went through, and people evidently were supposed to go up there periodically to get their papers updated and renewed. It was something fairly simple. They were asked a few questions and I guess had to fill out some simple forms, not much more than a few things to fill in, including signing it, though the forms were regular paper-sized and had two or three layers with carbon paper between them. While this happened their cars were being looked at by mechanics, put up on hoists, etc. The government was also doing some kind of scientific research, though, at least partly unrelated to the other.

I think my mother also came up, in a separate car. We might have been expecting my father too, I'm not sure. The policeman showed up, and was again saying who he was and what he did, in a kind of loud droning way, like it was a prepared speech he did often, but he was also there giving updates on something. We managed to leave after a while, without having to go through much, maybe fill out a few places on the forms, which I think my mother handled instead of me. The forms were mostly text, giving instructions and explanations I guess, with just a few places to actually enter things. They may have looked at her car some, but I don't think they did it to mine.

I left and went back down a little ways, then stopped at some other buildings, going through a series of large passageways with my car. One of the places I stopped was some kind of garage, and it seemed like we at least partly owned it. I saw a Cadillac from the early 1960s, that had been raised up in the air several feet. I looked under the back, at the underside of the huge trunk (where the gas tank would be in real life, but wasn't here). I marveled at the size of it, and the length of the car. It looked like they had a lot of room underneath to make the trunk even bigger, though I knew that it was huge already. Though I had used to drive a car like that, I didn't think I would be able to drive something like that anymore. It was just too big, and I wouldn't know how to properly get around in it, particularly with the cramped parking lots they had these days. I had also earlier seen another car or two, somewhat newer but still older models.

I finally made my way out and went on, going down the long, somewhat winding, gentle slope in the dark. I passed the policeman again, who was also driving down that road, but stopping in places along the way. I briefly heard him saying, "I'm such-and such....", a little plaintively this time, before I was on and past him.

It got to be a little lighter, and I was going along a portion where the road turned west for a while, a portion that was almost level and that could be described as simply higher ground rather than a mountain. Beyond the flat stretch of ground, the road would turn left again, and though relatively flat, would turn more downhill, and would be going again among and through some mountains.

While still on the broad flat stretch of land, I saw ahead what looked like a flying saucer parked in the road. I stopped and got out and walked partway around it. It was possibly 20 feet across and 10-12 feet high, and had no windows or doors that I could see. It was a dull silvery color with a slight sheen, and went down in broad folds, like a giant mass of soft ice cream that had been dispensed from a nozzle. In some places it also had some kind of framework sticking out from under it and to the side, large metal tubes at various angles, painted white.

I had no doubt that it was man-made, and not something from outer space. I didn't know what it was doing there, but suspected it was part of some promotion that was being set up. It took up a large part of the road, mostly my side of the road, but the road was wide enough here, with wide shoulders and flat land beyond, that it could be driven around. While I was there, a few cars went by going the other way, in the gray light. Their lane was squeezed a little but not much. They slowed as they went by, though, both to look and because of the lane restriction. I got back in my car and continued on.

I had brought a long garden hose with me, very heavy duty, with a heavy crisscross outer casing of stiff fiberglass cloth. It had had to be cut at some point earlier, before the trip, and was in two pieces, with the short end perhaps 5 or 6 feet long. It was something from the house. It had been awkward trying to coil it up, it was stiff and had lots of places where it had wound about itself, sometimes in long twisted loops, where it repeatedly turned around, like it was trying to weave itself into a rope. I had tried to coil it up into loops, but at some point all I could do was gather it up into long folds. It was extremely heavy too, and tiring to have to hold. I think part of it had dragged behind the car on the way up, and I had had to try to re-coil, re-gather it up on the mountain. I had needed to take it up there for some reason, though I'm not sure what that reason was, and it wasn't too clear even in the dream. Going back down the mountain, a lot of it had trailed out beside and behind me, several car lengths.

Now, after the UFO, I continued on, and the road wound through some small mountains, not much more than hills, and turned back toward the southeast. I was finally coming down a gentle slope, leaving the Phoenix area, with a car or two behind me. It was dark again, and I was very tired. The hose was still dragging and bouncing along behind me. I was coming down alongside a shopping center to the left of me, a strip mall. It was apparently where Woolco used to be in the old days, but the roads in the area in real life have been redone and rearranged, and the road there no longer goes off through the hills, which in some cases no longer exist.

I noticed another flying saucer in the parking lot, similar to the other one. This one had a few banners that had been partially set up, and there was something else set up nearby, some kind of square roped-off area, with small curtains set up along the ropes, blocking off the interior, and maybe a second roped-off area too. It was going to be some kind of Halloween thing. I think one of them was eventually going to be a haunted mansion and the other was an area for judging costumes. I think I stopped there briefly, and tried to do something with the hose, get more of it gathered up and back in the car. The next road, bordering the shopping center, was Rural Rd., which would turn into Scottsdale Rd. as it went north. I got on it, turning left, going north.

After a while I got to the radiator shop. It was still dark. At least some of the employees had come already, and were out front, near the road, tiredly digging. There were several large holes. One of them had to do with the sign tilting and partly falling over, and the others had something to do with various pipes. They had been at it for a long time. It seemed to be a long term project, to have to keep digging, fixing and working on things. Although I came in from the front, it feels that there was also a version where I came in from the alley.

I stopped there, in front of the shop, and got out and tried to undo the hose and rewind/gather it up, undoing some of the tangle, but it was difficult. I tried to find which end was the shorter one, and finally ended up just pulling on one of the ends until I found one that could be pulled out. My father was there, and was sometimes talking to customers that brought their cars in. One of them was a short woman, in her thirties maybe, very slightly overweight, who stood there smiling brightly as she talked about what was happening with her car, and my father talked to her about it and about other things, and I tried to get something done with the hose.

The dream had a lot more at the beginning, but I don't remember it anymore.

Note: I had another dream, relatively close in time to this one, where a woman was smiling brightly, and a dream about the radiator shop sign being at a tilt (the shop was in a different location, though, not matching any in real life).

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Dream - The thieves, the horse, and the battle

On Friday, May 28, 2010, around 9:30-10:30 AM, I dreamed I was at home, looking out the back window, by the kitchen table, with my mother. We were irritatedly talking about people getting in the backyard. It was probably late in the day, getting toward evening. We saw some kids going along the top of the fence, but then it seemed like it was the concrete fence across the alley, not the wooden fence we have. Then a woman was out there and took the kids, slowly, to the backyard of a house a little to the west and across the alley from us. She was talking to them, pleasantly it seemed. Then she got a call in the house, which someone there evidently transferred to her cellphone, and she was saying something like, "Is that the spammers again? I have to take this." As she got back to the house, talking and listening on her cellphone, she turned and looked back at me. I somewhat grimly waved at her, and she waved back.

It got dark. My mother was worried about someone getting in the yard. I went out and looked around a bit. Things were not exactly as in real life. I think the two male mulberry trees were still there, and there were a few things sitting around, on the porch and in the yard, that aren't there in real life. I located a pickaxe, but I think it was mostly the head, I think the wooden handle was mostly rotted away. I picked it up and may have carried it to some place on the porch. We also had a dog we don't have in real life, a medium-to-large size one, as well as at least one small one that may or may not have been similar to ones we have or have had.

I went back inside and told my mother that I didn't see anyone, and told her about the pickaxe, which could be used as a weapon by us. Things were taking on an increasingly chilled, ominous feeling, like something was going to happen. It seemed important that we leave a message about the pickaxe, and send a message about it to some other people, in case they needed to get one, and so they would know about it, and so there would be a record of it if something happened to us. My mother had put something on the refrigerator, held by a magnet, a kind of violet strip of old thin construction paper, with straight lines drawn on it dividing it into boxes. I was talking back and forth to my mother about the measurements, while she was trying to call someone and leave a message. I was talking about the approximate measurements of the head, how big it was, and was giving the thickness of the shaft, which seemed important. As I had measured it near the head, it was something like 2 3/4 inches, and I was writing it in some of the boxes, then I realized I had gotten it wrong and it was actually 3 3/4 inches, and I wrote it in another box. I needed to change the others somehow, I might have to do it later. Then I thought that it would be good to make a small drawing of the pickaxe head, so that there would be no question about how it looked. Then I saw that my mother had already done it, on another narrow scrap of the same paper, that was a little to the right of and partly over the paper I was writing on. The image was drawn vertically, and a little crudely, but was good enough. It was much bigger than I would have done, maybe half a foot or so long. I had been intending to draw a much smaller image.

Then the woman and the kids were back at the fence, near the gate. She was telling them to go inside the yard and get something. They went over the fence and started digging in the yard, and came up with some pale shallow plastic things, like things to put paint rollers in when you are trying to put more paint on them. One of them had a huge pile of scratch pads [small blank notepads, around 3 x 5 inches] from the radiator shop, with advertising on them. It wasn't what they were looking for, though, they were looking for something else.

I was getting mad, and told my mother that I was going to go out there and stop them. I was intending to scare them off and gather up the scratch pads and take them inside, but when I went out and started walking across the yard toward where they were, or had been, I suddenly saw a huge horse, light brown in color, striding purposefully toward me. It was probably around 8 or 10 feet high at the top of its head. I started backing away. The big dog, which had come out from its place of hiding on the porch, stopped and started to back up a bit, too. I turned and started going more rapidly back to the house, the horse was moving too fast. While its eyes looked a little uncertain, it seemed that it intended to head right for me.

I got inside and got the back door shut and I think locked, and went around the counter to the dining area, telling my mother what happened. I went back to check on the door, staying back by the end of the counter, and saw that the horse was bashing at the window in the door with its hoof, looking angry. It didn't seem that the window could stand up to it, and probably not even the door itself. I saw the window, which was longer now than in real life, bending sharply inward, taking its thin metal frame with it, and the window cracking in several places, with big horizontal splits going across it, like it was a plastic sandwich reinforced glass, like a car windshield, and not just regular glass.

I went away, back into the dining area, nervously talking about it with my mother. I went back then and checked, expecting to see that the horse had its hoof and leg through the glass, but instead saw that it was a man there, with his leg hanging through. He was wearing a black mask over his eyes and a black bandanna around his head, and was evidently a burglar. I went back in the dining area and nervously talked to my mother about maybe somehow trying to get the pickaxe. I couldn't remember where I had left it though, was it somewhere on the porch or out in the yard? Then I went back and found the man had gotten most of the way in; his arms and body were in now too, only his other leg was on the other side. He was holding a very small gun in his right hand. I went to him and started trying to twist his leg around. He was looking at me surprised, like he was thinking, don't you see have a gun? He kept trying to get the gun pointed properly at me and I kept twisting his leg and moving it around and up in the way. Then suddenly he had it in his other hand, with a clear shot at me. I stopped, there wasn't anything I could do to block it. I let go and backed up some, wondering if he was going to shoot me, then abruptly he had a another small gun in his other hand, too. He took my mother and me hostage, and took us along with him. He didn't seem really interested in what we had in the house, at least for now. He wanted us to do a job for him, to help him steal something, I guess to prove our loyalty, and in any case make us useful. We left and went out into the night with him. The area now seemed more like Fallon, Nevada than Arizona.

He sent us toward a supermarket. We were supposed to search in the trash cans out front for something that was left by an associate, something from the store. He stayed well away, in the darkness by another building, but it was pretty dark where we were too, not much light to look at the things with. We took out some things. Some of it looked a little interesting, like the paint roller-type shallow container I had seen in the back yard, but we didn't find anything like we were supposed to be looking for. It hadn't been described, only that something would be left there, but we didn't find anything useful or valuable, at least toward the top, where presumably it would be. Something had evidently gone wrong, or maybe he hadn't been able to get out here with it yet.

Suddenly, there was a commotion of some kind in the store. He had evidently been found out. We hurriedly left.

We were wandering around then, wondering what to do. It seemed like a good time to talk to someone in law enforcement, get them involved, but we were also afraid that the man, the crook, might be mad at us and try to hurt or kill us. We finally decided to try to find someone. I remembered seeing a man a bit earlier who I knew was a police detective. We went back to the general area where he had been and eventually found him. We told him about what had happened. He listened and was trying to devise a plan about what to do. He talked to someone on his cellphone about it, and we went to a place where I had earlier seen the horse parked on the street, in a parking place. The horse didn't look so big now, more like the size of a normal horse. I told the man that the horse might know something and be able to help us, though I wasn't sure about its reaction. It looked back at us with a little bit of a mad, irritated, uncertain look as we came toward it. Then it was thanking us profusely as the man untied its rein to free it, and it started talking about how they had mistreated it. It agreed after a pause to help us, seeming to be reluctant to get involved with the man again, and then resumed complaining about how it had been treated.

My mother and I went back to our house, which looked a lot different now, but found the man and his associates were already there, and in the process of stealing some things from it before they left. The man was inside and was handing stuff out to them. Besides the man there were two other people, a somewhat short middle-aged Oriental man and a very tall muscular man who appeared part black and part Asian, and wasn't wearing a shirt. They saw us, and the head man seemed to want to get us, perhaps kill us, but they got in an argument. The others, particularly the Oriental man, didn't want to do it, and the Oriental man wanted to let us go. He was yelling at the head man, and he had a weapon that was two heavy hooked-together dark sticks. The hooks were just heavy eyelet type things and weren't sharp, they were curved around so they were almost closed and had blunt ends. He was swinging it around his head, threatening to throw it at the head man, but the head man threw an odd thin metal black piece, very slightly bent, with a wider thing at the back end, like a small light gray pipe that went over it like a handle. It hit the Oriental man in the leg near the hip, going almost straight down, and went in deeply. He screamed, but kept on standing.

The fight continued, all three of them in it, generally separated quite a bit from each other, 10 or 20 or more feet at times, throwing things at each other and yelling. It may have been mostly the associates, widely separated, fighting the boss, but it seems the associates sometimes threw things at each other too. Sometimes a couple of them got close enough together to get into a struggle, and try to swing their sticks or whatever they were holding, trying to hit the other person's back or whatever else presented a good target, or trying to stab the other person, if the weapon was of that type, and sometimes one or the other of them would get tossed or flipped. Then they might get separated by a bit and sometimes one would even chase the other briefly, till the person chased got far enough away or the fight became more equal again.

After a bit either the Oriental man or the part Asian, part black man threw some of the sticks at me. I managed to avoid them and they landed at my feet. They were apparently intended to hit with the hook and cut into a person, though the hook was curved over and blunt. It seemed the proper way of throwing them was to swing them around your head and somehow quickly unhook the one that wasn't being held, to let it go flying at whatever was being aimed at. I got two of them sent at me, still hooked together. You could hook three together, I saw it done, and let loose two and still be holding one, though I'm not sure it was done in this case. I was trying to throw them back, and I think I did, throwing both, not trying to get one unhooked, but it was awkward and I don't think I hit my target.

At some point, I saw the horse coming back, a pleasant and hopeful look on its face, but as it got closer it became aware of what was happening, of the crooks being back and the fighting. Its eyes widened and stared at the scene, and its expression drifted downward into a surprised dismay. It leaned its body back, pushing at the pavement with its hooves, slowing itself to a halt and then backing up. It turned and left, looking back once or twice at us, a nervous grimace on its face.

Then the Oriental man was going off with the head man. They had some kind of carriage, like a horse might pull, but no horse this time. It was filled with stuff. They were going along beside and behind it, pushing and guiding it I guess. They had gotten pretty far away already, maybe a hundred feet. I had a couple more of the heavy dark hooked-together sticks, ones that had been thrown at me, and I took careful aim, thinking I could get them this time, and threw the sticks. They flew forward at them, scooting along the ground after a while, but still heading straight for them. It looked like I might get them. I think I even had a line attached so I could pull on it, to drag them back when they got hooked.

All of a sudden the sticks stopped and started coming back, going backward, and I saw that they had one or two more sticks hooked onto them. The tall, muscular, part Asian part black man was standing a few feet from me, laughing, and pulling on the line, dragging them back. He had thrown his own sticks at them, and hooked them. I was apprehensive about what was going to happen now, but he seemed friendly and genial, not wanting to harm me, and amused at the situation. He didn't want me to harm the others, either, or get in a fight with them. I had a feeling that I might be able to get him to help us later, maybe help us escape or even turn against the others and get them captured by the police, if I could convince him to do so. He seemed close to being able to do it, but I wasn't sure how close or if I could convince him. He didn't seem willing to let us go at the moment though, or maybe I was too intimidated to even try.

The others came back. Maybe he called and signaled to them, waved them back over, it seemed he might have but I'm not sure. We were captured again.

Then we were together somewhere else, and they were working with various things, bent over some, working at them, with some open boxes around with things in them. They were working in or near the boxes, separated from each other by probably six to eight feet, getting things ready for the next job. The head man was saying, talking about the next job, and what had happened this last time, "At least there were no witnesses."

I was standing a few feet from my mother, who was to the side and slightly behind me, and we were probably about eight feet in front of him, and I said, "But what about next time? What about the next time?" He stopped talking and lowered his eyes, looking thoughtful and subdued and a little chastened, but he continued working, bent over his box. I stopped talking too, suddenly feeling strange and vulnerable, thinking that perhaps I had said too much. We were, after all, witnesses.

More happened earlier, and some more happened in town after we first escaped, but I don't remember it.

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Sunday, September 02, 2012

Dream - The dimensional doorway in the wall by my bed, and the mysterious woman who helped me through it

On Saturday, May 22, 2010, around 12:05-3:15 PM, I dreamed that when I was little, a woman took me through the wall, into another dimension, and out again, coming out of an opening in the opposite wall of the next room, into the girls' (my sisters) bedroom, which was huge, unlike in real life, and at least temporarily unoccupied, though it had furniture and things. To do it she had to turn a large combination lock that was mounted on the wall or somehow slightly inside the wall. and somehow hidden, and then open a small narrow door that led into the other dimension. The door was perhaps two feet wide and three feet high, and a very thin slab of dull gray metal. Years later, after I had grown up, I was thinking about it, trying to figure it out, had it really happened, how had it been done, how could I find the doorway again. It seemed to be hidden somehow.

A business man who had a large ship contacted me, saying he knew how to do it. I didn't know how he knew about it, or about me. He came to my house and talked with me a while, trying to make a deal. There seemed to be something he wanted from it, in exchange for showing me how to do it. There seemed to be a large treasure involved, stacks of money that had been stored in the wall or other dimension, just beyond the door, not huge stacks, maybe as much as a foot high in places. But there also seemed to be something else that he wanted, that there was something else he could find there, or maybe that going through would give him some kind of power or ability that he wanted, something that would give him an advantage over other people, people that he might be in a conflict with, that would enable him to better battle them. It was a sense I got, he didn't really answer me, though I pressed him a bit upon it.

I laid down on the bed under the window while we talked, at least toward the end of it, and went through some things that had just come in the mail. The bed was my brother's, who no longer stayed here, and now it was my bed, too. I normally slept in the other bed, though, at the side wall, where I also had some mail laying. It was some older mail, and I had earlier been going through some of that while we talked. The door had been in the wall beside my bed, high up, so that the bottom of it was roughly level with the mattress.

Now, on the other bed, I was a little nervous at him seeing what I was doing with the mail. Part of it was a small catalog, mounted on stiff cardboard, showing books and things one could buy, on esoteric subjects, ESP, strange things, etc., and I felt that he would think it was in competition to what he was proposing. Though he glanced at it, he didn't seem to be bothered by it, seeming to just consider it a distraction. Worried about what he really wanted, I was unable to make a decision at the time, and put it off.

I left the room and wandered around. I seemed to be in a huge multistory mansion now, that had a luxury ship's interior as the theme, and some kind of party was going on. I wandered out to the back a bit, and there was a dock, and water beyond, though it wasn't exactly the ocean, maybe an arm of it or perhaps part of a lake.

A man came up with a clown's face, made up that way, though sometimes I could see a different face partly superimposed, that of a seaman, a sailor. He seemed to be middle aged. He said that he could help me against the other man, that he knew of him from earlier. I got the impression that it might have been a past life, one that had ended by being killed by the man or his helpers, or maybe by a past life version of the man. The clown face was apparently just a disguise. He was trying to keep the man from knowing he was there. He said he could help me find the doorway, but I had to go on a search for something involving it, perhaps the combination to open the door, I'm not sure.

I went to a place by the stairway going up, with its wood a varnished polished bright medium brown, and wood pieces on the wall behind it. I went up the stairs a bit, then went over the railing and was climbing on the wood of the wall, sometimes squeezed between it and the railings. Sometimes people were on the stairs, not a great many, and they sometimes looked at me strangely, seeming to wonder what I was doing and if I needed help. I was evidently one of the hosts of the party.

I eventually made my way back down, without finding anything that was useful, though I did find some kind of odd things that were related to it somehow. I felt that I didn't get high enough, but that I had to come down now, it was getting too dangerous for some reason. Maybe I felt the man might be coming back soon and I didn't want him to see me trying to find it. I dropped down the last bit, near a railing piece that ran along the wall above an extremely narrow strip of planter with landscaping. There had been wider areas of landscaped planter strips that I had gone up the wall above in other places earlier.

I wanted to find the clown man again and I think I did so briefly, from a distance, but then I had to make my way back to the part that was my home. Somewhere around then, or perhaps after I got home, the word came to me from a distance somehow, that the man was willing to give up on the matter. He had to give up, his ship was sinking, and he wanted to know my terms, what I would allow him to have.

Going home, I went along a very small narrow concrete bridge that ran along the front, with water to the right and under it, and a small strip of water, just inches, on the left, between the bridge and the building. The concrete was crumbling a bit, though it was clean and bright. It had little bright cement ridges going up at the sides every foot or so, along the very low railing, and they sometimes showed little plants sprouting up where they joined the floor of the bridge. The house had a narrow strip of landscaping running between it and the water.

I finally made it to the front door and went in. Some other people were there, at least part of them family members. I found, or was partly directed to, or maybe somehow remembered it, something on the wall of the girls' room near the window, some homemade decorations that had been made by them years ago. One was a small Christmas tree cut out of green construction paper, now faded with age. It was perhaps eight inches high, and had layers of trees, at slightly different angles, each projecting out slightly from the one underneath, and the later ones, especially the those sticking out the furthest, being smaller than those behind. Some other decorations were around it. Behind the Christmas tree decoration was a heavy steel rod holding it out from the wall an inch or two.

I went to it and was saying something like, "You mean this?" and feeling the rod, "I've known about this." It seems the Christmas tree decoration hid the combination lock dial.

I went and talked to my father, who was in a large bedroom across the hall, next to the master bedroom. He was looking much younger, maybe in his forties. The room he was in doesn't exist in real life. I asked him if he knew anything about a safe that was hidden in the wall. He, looking a little uncomfortable about talking about it, said that, yes, he had put something in, back in the 1960s apparently, so he could save money in it. He had put money in it back then, accumulated it over time. It was still there, he hadn't done anything with it. Most of it, especially the last, I got perhaps more from impressions than him actually saying anything. There was some kind or particular combination of numbers that had to be followed, that corresponded now with positions of other decorations.

He gave me the numbers. They were long numbers, three to five digits long, and it seemed there were three main ones, but he gave me two others that followed them, seemingly secondary ones but ones that also had to be used. The woman from the past who had taken me through it had come back now (she looked somewhat like Jacob's mother from the TV show Lost). She was trying to help me now. We went to the wall with the safe, along with several other people. She was talking to me about it, trying to help, and I was saying that the various number positions corresponded to these particular positions on the wall, these decorations, move it here and here and here, and so on, as I turned the green paper Christmas tree decorations around, back and forth. Most of it involved fairly small movements, making my way through the numbered positions, though not actually seeing the numbers. As I went I became doubtful, unsure of what the later numbers were, but I felt it was something I had to complete, and that I would somehow complete.

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Dream - The silver giants and the dangerous devices

On Monday, May 10, 2010, in a sleep period around 9:00 AM-12:45 PM, I dreamed I was in a place like DeVry (a college I went to), square, with halls around the edges. It was at least two stories, maybe more. I spent a lot of time wandering around. Sometimes I went to different stories, but there was some difficulty in doing so. The passages going up or down were generally at the corners, and it was more like climbing up out of, or going down from, a big square hole in the floor. Sometimes I climbed up on top of things, even narrow room dividers. I'm not sure exactly what purpose the place had, though it seemed to be partly a school, but also partly a business, maybe even partly a hospital, and had a big area with women doing what seemed to be secretarial and bookkeeping work. I occasionally talked to people I met, teachers and others.

At some point, after I had gone to the second floor, I went back down, an awkward business, and went around to the back, outside. I was on a back corner anyway. It was cool and there was a slight wind, and the light was dim, like it was late afternoon. The sky looked gray-white, almost overcast, streaked with dirt. Things were changing, feeling more ominous.

I was at the southeast corner of the building. I went a little way along the back, and stopped and talked to someone there. He talked about someone coming, and pointed perhaps 50 or 60 feet further along, where a strange figure stood, silver in color, like a statue frosted with aluminum. It was about 8 or 10 feet high, and heavily built, especially the upper body, and had a huge head. It was almost like a Pan figure, a goatman, though it wore some clothes, also silver, pants and shirt and vest, that seemed much too small for it. It seemed to be some kind of ancient minor god that had been awakened and summoned. It was talking to a man and sometimes glanced in our direction. It seemed like it could be dangerous, but it didn't have any personal interest in causing a lot of trouble, and was talking with the man to see if he knew when the person who had summoned him would arrive. He basically seemed to lack direction until that happened, though he had been given a general idea of what was planned. I couldn't hear any of it, it was a matter of what the man next to me said, which wasn't much, and just being able to feel what was happening, and to partly picture it.

It was seeming very creepy out there now, and potentially dangerous, and the man next to me was warning me to get away. When I wasn't doing it, and just slightly backing up, he kept doing it, telling me I had to leave now.

I went back around the corner, and to the front of the building, sometimes looking back, and I think it was probably this time that I left and went out in the parking lot. It was brighter now, sunny, and things felt a lot better. Showing how I could take longer steps than normal, I began actually gliding through the air to extend it, to oohs and ahhs from the people watching. I went past the front of the building, going mostly west, and stepped across a small dividing area of curbs and dirt and brush and across a small road and another dividing area, to another parking section beyond, gliding most of the distance.

There was some question, though, about a device. A tall man was there, who had followed me part of the way across the parking lots. He looked kind of rural, like a tall farm worker. We talked briefly about the device and what it meant. I think it was something left in the parking lot by someone. I decided I had to go back to the building, maybe to tell them about it. I didn't really want to have to go all the way back there. I may have left the device where it was, probably did. It wasn't real big, something mounted on a square bottom that was maybe 12 or 14 inches across. I didn't know what it was for and why it was left, though there was a feeling that there might be some danger about it, like it might be a bomb, and I had a feeling that there was a bad guy that had been lurking around that had done it. I don't think I ever saw the bad guy, except sometimes as a dark presence, not close to where I was but off quite a ways. We didn't know if he or whoever left the device was going to come back and get the device, either.

I went all the way back to the building, back to the back corner, and was trying to get up to the second floor. I think I ended up going up and down two or three times. Someone had to point out to me how it was done, and I think it was in fact a little different than before, though part of it was that I had gotten a little rusty, I felt. There was a lot more activity now, too. I climbed up the homemade ladder, a wide rickety structure of old boards, with the steps just being big thin boards, on edge, with the flat side nailed to the front of the two boards that made up the sides. There were actually two ladders, one that went perhaps two thirds of the way and another one that loosely hung down at an angle partly over the top of the one below. The passage was also very cluttered, mostly filled with other things, some of which projected out in the way. The passages had been cluttered before, though.

At some point it was noticed that someone had left a device there, on a square piece of thin gray board or metal, about 8 inches or so across. It was something somewhat complicated, held down by a gray metal strap that was bolted to the bottom. It had something in it like a gray flare, but shorter and wider, and softer looking, like it was made out of cloth and stuffed. It had wires and tubes too I think, along with maybe a few other things. I noticed it for a while before I said anything, but one of the times I was using the passage I finally said something about it. I was intending to leave soon and I just couldn't leave it that way. Some people looked at it and picked it up, and I think I even held it for a while, maybe even taking it up with me and asking about it with the people up there, the women in the apparent secretarial/bookkeeping section. I did go up and ask about it, even if I didn't bring it with me. One of the women in the secretarial/bookkeeping section was talking to me about it, while I got up on something, a tall room divider near a wall I think, and crouched down on it, near the ceiling. As I talked to her from about 10 feet away, she was sometimes talking to other people on a phone that was mounted to her head, with a small microphone that came around to the front. She said she called someone about it, but hadn't heard back yet.

I noticed that she had something similar herself, on the floor beside her, though less complicated, and the padded gray tube had turned and was turning, bending in the middle at a place past the strap, forming a short right-angled section. I said I wondered if that was it, that they had been sabotaged, changed so that when they started doing that they became dangerous and might do something.

I had a white plastic pen in my right front pants pocket. They had been given out by the company, lots of them. They had the company name on them, it was kind of a commemorative thing, with advertising. I wondered if they were all going to change, become like that, that it had been something that was planned, and the one in my pants pocket might be changing now, I felt that it was, becoming wider and softer, as part of the transition to something else, and that they might all become bombs, or whatever it was that the enemy had planned for them. With so many around, practically everywhere in some parts of the building, it was going to be very difficult to stop it, to find them all, and everyone might have to leave, evacuate.

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