I was in a room and saw two large tortoise shell cats, one with a small
section of its belly shaved. I thought our cat Lola (who died recently)
had come back, but then realized that these were two new cats.
Later I saw pairs of large, raccoon-like tortoise shell cats attacking
lion cubs, in a sequence extending away from me down a winding road.
I returned from somewhere (hospital?) and found my house totally changed.
Many friends were living in it, and it was much bigger. Some rooms had
dividers in them so that more than one person could live in them.
Someone was talking on the phone with someone I didn't know, and they
handed the phone to me; I was supposed to be arranging some kind of
contract with them, but they were saying much, and I didn't know what
was going on. I was fiddling with a camera while I was on the phone,
and then a part of the camera fell out and broke on the floor, spreading
many thin layers of metal around; it was clear that putting it back
together would be very difficult. I put the phone down and went to the
bathroom. I had lots and lots of carbon fibers piercing my lips,
some going deep into my jaw. I spent some time pulling them out.
I tried to wash my hands, but the sink had disgusting soaps and sponges
around it, as if the bathroom had not been used in a long time.
Later I was sitting on a couch with a pretty woman and I noticed that
the cuffs of my jeans had turned yellow green. She lifted the lower
part of my legs and batted at my cuffs; yellow green flakes came off,
a bit like grass.
In a separate dream, Jenni and I kidnapped a very small baby bear.
Driving a away in a car, I realized that this was a federal crime,
and was very agitated: we had to go back. We returned the bear
to the kennel where it had been, and everything seemed okay.
I was checking out an excellent kinetic sculpture. It was a lot of black angled strips
of metal, and on a pivot, about table-top size. It made pretty plinking sounds, I think.
I was explaining it to Oprah Winfrey. I told her that Roger Ebert, the famous film critic,
had made it, and she denied knowing who I was talking about. This seemed, and still seems,
I was riding to a brevet start with a group of cyclists, I guess. I was riding a bike with bad
brakes, and as we crested a hill, I knew I needed to stop and fix them, so I rode
a little up a dirt embankment to stop. I adjusted the brakes, and felt skilled.
At the brevet start, there was a lot of confusion, and somehow I found myself on the
road with a few others, who I seemed to be riding with, but I hadn't checked-in and
got my control card so I had to go back the little distance to the start.
The weather was impossible: it was nearly pitch black with dark clouds, like night
though it was 11 AM. As I road back to the start I could see out into the ocean,
the sky completely black with clouds, and the sea filled with battleships. As my
friends rode with me, one said that another had said he was apologizing for the
low speed he expected he would be capable of on the ride. I didn't really care: I
just wanted to get going. The check-in was in a large space, like a train station,
with two women at teller-like windows who were handling the check in.
I went up to one and began telling her about the ridiculous weather, emphasizing the
"pitch black at 11 AM".
Later I was taking a shower at my parents' house, using my parents' bathroom. I came
out of the shower and was looking for something to wear. My brother B was using the other
bathroom, and he came out. I was in my parents living room, telling him about
the crazy weather, and how
the ocean at the end of 5th street was full of battleships. My drawing teacher M's
head started talking to B and interrupted me, but I deduced that her head was just
a dream, based on a pair of glasses on the back of a couch, I moved the glasses and
she was gone.
I was at a job interview. I was seated closely at a table with several
people, only some of whom seemed to know I was interviewing with them.
The main interviewer was really distracted, and didn't talk to me much.
Finally, it was decided to have another meeting on February 3 at 9 AM.
This was quite far in the future, so I was rather confused. I wrote
the date in my little notebook, while a woman sitting next to me watched
carefully, acting as though she would point out mistakes I was making, so
I tried not to let her see what I wrote. Someone other than the main
interviewer started talking about how they used 26-pin connectors, and
made a quick sketch of them, and wasn't that interesting? I said I
had just had an interview where someone else said the same thing; I think
the man was disappointed. Finally, people started getting up and leaving
the table; eventually I was the only one. Nobody said anything to me
as they left, so I assumed the interview was over. There was an adjacent
table (like in a restaurant), and I described what had happened to
the people at that table, and one of them said something about how it is
too bad the job candidates are not more interesting. I walked out of the
building. As I was going out the door, I looked down and saw that I was
wearing sandals with socks [which I often do], and thought, "Why did
I wear sandals to an interview?"
Lots more dreams here.
I haven't had this much dream detail in a long time.
I was back in Lowell, Massachusetts [where I was an undergraduate].
I was a student, sharing an apartment with quite a few people.
In fact, we were all sharing beds, though the beds were somehow
partitions so it wasn't strange. It felt good to be back in that
situation again: I was a student, but I was experienced, so I was
giving lots of advice to everyone. It seemed my luggage never
arrived, so I was without clothing, except for what I was wearing.
I reckoned that the next day would be unpleasant as I would have to
search for my luggage, and I said as much. The apartment had many
young men and women. One woman seemed crazy, and was upset and yelling -
nobody knew what to do, but finally another woman took care of her
somehow. Then I felt bad: I told them I had a PhD and I didn't know
what I was doing there. I said I felt psychotic, but not in a dangerous
way, and suggested I might go lie down.
I was outside the apartment building watching a red-haired hippy-type
woman wheel her loaded bicycle past. There was a bridge connecting
the building across to a nearby hill, and she easily walked her bike
backwards across it. When I went to follow her, I found the bridge
was fantastically rickety, just some boards nailed together end-to-end.
I could not go across.
I was getting ice cream at an ice cream stand. Looking in, I saw two
or three men embedded in ice cream, their faces covered and surrounded
by white. I thought they must be very cold. One of them came up to
me and said I would get 75 cents off if I could hold two forks that he
handed me. I thought the forks would be very cold, but I held on to
them for quite a while. My right hand became puffy, red, and looked
like it was dirty with grease.
I was in a hospital, having a study done (perhaps ultrasound).
The technician informed me that she was going to inject me with something
that would make my blood pressure get very high: 380 over something, and it
would take a few days to come back to normal. This sounded like a bad idea
and I said I wanted her to talk to my cardiologist about it.
She left, and I searched desperately for my cardiologist's phone number: in
my wallet, where I couldn't find his card, and then in phone books which were
in the room, but all of them were very old, one from 1977. I thought I might
just be able to call 411, but when I picked up the phone there were already
people talking on it, having conversations I didn't understand.
I was out somewhere skating on inline skates, but realized I also had my bike with me. Rather than leave my bike unattended any longer, I decided I'd skated enough. I loaded my bike in my pickup truck [I've never owned a truck]. I was then at my parents house, when I realized I had left my bike in the truck. I went to get it, and found a giant squid in the back of the truck, intertwined with my bicycle. I remembered that one of my brothers had mentioned that my oldest brother had bought the squid. I went back into the house, very agitated, and got my oldest brother to go out and deal with the squid, which I said was crawling down the street.
An elderly couple graffitied my car with spray paint.
They were attempting to flee in a tiny car. I was
writing down the license plate number of the car, but
the number was very long and my writing unsteady. Jenni
and I followed them to their house and I wrote down
their address: the street number was 39666. We then drove
away, and the ventilation system in our car was very noisy: I
manipulated a bunch of levers to try to get it to be less
I was in line with my parents and brothers at a fast-food pizza restaurant. I was separated from them, and got a slice of pizza and started eating it. When I got to the cashier, it seemed there was a policy against eating in line, though I had looked for a sign indicating this and did not see one. I ended up being charged $6.95 for the slice. I gave them a ten dollar bill and told them to keep the change and the remainder of the slice. I walked toward where my family was sitting, but I didn't feel well, mentally, and mistook a young man for my father; his glasses were very similar to the ones my father was wearing. I apologized to him, and pointed out my father so he could see the similarity. A woman came and sat with me.
I was crossing a field and picking up old camera bodies, putting them in a very large plastic bag. I was wearing no shirt.
I could see an old red pickup truck driving on a wide bridge. There were many railroad tracks running longitudinally. A voice, like a narrator, said, "...I want to emphasize this: you can write to Congress, not to just to individual Congress members. This can be helpful if your letter gets lost...".
A pickup truck wouldn't make it up a hilly road. My dad said something about its suspension. I started pushing it, it rather easily went up the hill. Near the top, I wondered why it was so easy, and turned and saw my dad helping me. He said this was like E. T. going to a hockey game with his brothers, and I said, "Because he never does that?".