What Would Mya Think?
Mya came over and we were in my room. I handed her my pictures and said something like, "Here's some pictures," and she began to look through them and turn the page, but then she saw the captions and stopped to read them. (I had written funny captions for the pictures.) This is strange because at first I think it was only me in my room and I was wondering what Mya would think of the pictures, then she was there. I think it was sunny outside.
Secret Agent Ten!
I was in a group and we were doing little skits. Micheal S. (a friend from high school) was in the group but I don't know who else--I know it was a female, so it might have been Michelle L. or Mary B., (junior high/high school acquaintances) or both. We did two skits together but I can't remember them. I know they were funny because we were laughing and joking around.
Then we were riding a green-seated bus through Aloha and we came up with an idea for a "Secret Agent Man" skit. It was supposed to be a James Bond thing (the real one) with the number twelve but in our parody we changed it to ten; I don't know where this came from. Anyway, Mike began singing, "Secret Agent Ten!" when in the real song (in my dream) it was supposed to be Twelve, I think. I thought it was funny, but as we rode it slowly faded out, so slowly I didn't even notice. When I finally did and asked Mike when and if we were still doing the skit, he looked at me (we were sitting near the back of the bus and I think he and Michelle, or whoever, were sitting in front of me) and seemed a little angry. He said something like, "We aren't doing that anymore."
One Would Think They've Never Acted Before
Richard Pryor and that curly-haired blond guy he usually stars with (Gene Wilder) were in a mall and they saw a camera mounted on the wall, filming them (it was like KMart, only it seemed to be like a warehouse with a long wood counter, machinery, and some big things covered with plastic). They started laughing and waving their hands and acting funny for the camera, and I think they were looking at themselves on TV also. Then they looked a little bit confused, as if wondering why they looked the way they did on TV, and they started doing something like the Pepsi handwave. O_o
I was at school and I went into Mrs. P.'s (the writing teacher's) classroom, only I felt as if I were at home. Over where the three(?) TVs are, underneath, was a shelf of cheap wood with several small compartments. In each of these was a pack--really just a hexagonal (I think) piece of light cardboard, about the width of this page--of pencils, with a lot of pencils in each. I knew they were mine because someone (a girl friend, I suppose) had given them to me and the cardboard looked about ready to fall apart because the pencils (they were yellow and ordinary) were sagging out. Some had beem taken from the top shelf (about neck level). I wanted to take all the separate packs and put all the pencils together on one shelf, but the person who had given them to me had told me to keep them separated.
There were two young boys--definitely from elementary school--sitting at the front of the class. They had straight sandy hair and might have been twins. I took out one pencil with a good eraser, almost new, but I had some trouble finding a good second pencil--all of the erasers were about half worn. I finally just took one out and I handed them to the boys, saying something like, "Here, take these pencils! They're supposed to spark when you write with them." I said it as if I were kind of in a hurry but I was nice--not babyish, though.
I think Mrs. P. or another adult was waiting for me, off to the left, behind the desk, maybe. I also think there were other students in the class, high schoolers, but not in the desks immediately by the boys.
* [The boys' hair] straight like this, curved over head and bangs brushed down
There had been a sudden explosion in the cat population, like in the third world only with cats, not humans. In shelters and Humane Societies there were millions of kittens that were probably going to have to be put to sleep. I was in the living room with Ma and Pepper, watching TV, and they showed the kittens. They were all tiny and thin, with large bat-like ears and the sweetest faces--gray, tabby, calico, etc. Then I began to silently cry. The tears just poured from my eyes and I got up to go down the hall. I didn't sob or anything--it was like I was sad and indifferent at the same time. I just felt so sorry for those poor kittens, and upset that we couldn't take one in because we already had a cat, Pepper. It was somehow like the China law--only one cat per household.
Was That Your Foot?
I can't remember what happened very well, but I was going down this street sort of like Galbraith. It was asphalt and just about new, and there was just flat grassy land on both sides. Houses like those in the Orchard Beach housing subdivision were on both sides with plenty of yard space in between. There might have been mountains on both sides in the distance, and I think there may have been a rise in the road ahead of me. The sun was high but I think it was behind me. Then I think there may have been some trees on the right too, not just houses and land, but even trees, not a lot.
I was trotting down this road, pretending to be a gray tabby like Eli (my grandma's old cat), but then I might have been riding my bike. It's confusing. Anyway, I was thinking that I wanted to pretend to be Thutmose IV, then I realized that my character Thutmose IV is a dog (I write furry fiction), and I was wondering how to compromise. Now the other person I met might have been me taking another role or a whole different person. But at the right side of the road in a paved driveway sat a funny-looking gray tabby. He looked a little like the Garfield in the comics that were supposed to be really old but actually weren't--the creator drew up some mock early comics once and Garfield's style was different-- and he was big. I think I might have run over his foot or he caught his foot in my tire; I was probably riding a bike at this point and I'm almost certain there were trees on the right now. He was going "Oowww!" and holding his foot. Me, being like a cross between another gray tabby and a genial Thutmose IV, was all cheerful and asked what was wrong. He (the other tabby) was still rocking back and forth and seemed kind of mad but he talked, though. I can't remember what he said. He had a funny voice a little like Chernobyl's (a fictional character of mine).
In another dream I think I was near or in the sandbox, standing near the garage doing something (I think it was overcast), but I don't remember.
Has Everyone Gone Out Into The Pines?
I can't remember this dream very well. I was bicycling, I think, around a whole bunch of gravel roads out in the country. I came out on the end of one road where it joined two or three others. I had just come out of a treed-in part and looked to the left. The grass everywhere was goldish. There were a bunch of pine trees a ways off and maybe a farmhouse or trailer to the left. It was sort of like the last road I came out on when I went exploring during bingo at the Senior Center in real life.
There was a huge sign that asked something about being able to sell something, or had everyone gone out into the pines (it said both)? I knew that "gone out into the pines" meant "gone off the deep end," and some big farmer guy who was a bit mean had put it out there. It was just a cardboard sign but somehow I think of silver duct tape, so maybe there was some of that on it. I also knew that there had been another one out there before only it was just some kind of insult, and it also told of going out into the pines, but it had been replaced by this one this week. (I think it was overcast then.) The farmer guy was big and stocky, sort of like Frankenstein's monster, with a plaid(?) (flannel?) shirt and jean suspenders, and a frown, dark, somewhat stringy hair, and eyes with hollows under them--I think they were Grandpa H.'s eyes. He must have been asking if he could sell his farm vegetables, or had everyone gone nuts?
An Affair? Who Cares?
I know I was in a mall or KMart and I was standing near or at the front, I think, to the far right of the door, between the clothes partitions on the wall and clothes racks behind me. I think I was idly looking through the partitions, and a woman to my right was speaking to a worker (I think). She had long, curly or wavy auburn hair and wore funny glasses. I know their edges were pointed. I couldn't see the other person because she (I'm almost certain it was female) was almost behind me. Anyway, this weird woman was talking to the other. Her voice was deeper than Ma's but not really deep; maybe a little like Aunt Sue's but not as "round." She was telling of how her husband was having an affair with another woman. Or maybe it was she who was having an affair with another man, I'm not certain. I don't know which way it went but I was shocked and I think the cashier (?--worker?) was shocked too, but the first woman seemed as if she couldn't care less.
* [the woman's glasses] maybe like this; pale aqua blue I think (maybe with little diamond rhinestones)
The Pharaoh's Seat Is Bad For The Environment
I don't know who I was but I think I was a boy with straight hair, blond streaked brown, and a somewhat depressed or tired-looking face, maybe with big eyes--but it might not have been me at all. I think it was though. Anyway I was playing around outside the house; I think it was overcast. Someone--maybe me--told me of some better toy (I might have been playing with one) and said it was Egyptian pharaoh style. I was a little bit aloof but accepted.
At first it was something else but then it turned out to be a plastic seat--that thin, brittle, shiny, cheap kind of plastic. It held me though so I liked it. It had the main part of the seat plus two big parts sticking out of the sides where armrests would be, only I think they had hollows in them like cupholders. It was white with a spraying of pink and gray I think, and it must have been ribbed in places because there were little white ridges where the paint didn't reach. Then there must have been another one (this took place underneath the side living room window overlooking H. Road) only it had steps--I think that might have been all there was--and I started to step up but the plastic started to crack, so I stepped down and murmured something about being glad I didn't get that one or something.
Then all of a sudden I was pretending to be a raccoon either washing his face or drinking, and I sighed (I was depressed looking and gray) because I saw those humans--of whom I had been one earlier--with the plastic, which might be bad for animals, so I went to the front porch to see Ranger Rick. My front porch was a lot different--it still had the black wrought-iron bars, but the brick was now some kind of shiny white tile-like stuff, only it was one piece I think; the porch stuck out a lot more over where the sidewalk would be, and I think it had some kind of light blue pool in it. I was still a raccoon looking for Ranger Rick, but then a thought struck me. I knew the voices of Sammy Squirrel, Ollie Otter, and Boomer Badger and the others (they were the voices I had given to them on my audiocassettes--sometimes I would read the stories and do the voices--but I must have heard them on a show they had on TV), but I couldn't think of a single grown male raccoon, or the voice he would have, from the stories. Only now do I remember that Ranger Rick is the grown male raccoon.
* [the chair] maybe like this only thinner
Jewelry-Hawkin' English Teacher
I was in KMart or some kind of mall and Mrs. P. (my Advanced Writing teacher) was selling expensive jewelry. She was to the left of her glass showcase counter, at its corner with a flat velvet stand, like the ones in stores where they display jewelry; it was gray (I'm almost certain there was one). She would hold up an item to the crowd gathered around and would tell about it. She kept saying things like, "Now I won't compromise on this one. This one is very expensive," with that British accent of hers and I don't really remember her saying anything about the jewelry itself. One thing was pink, but the only one I can remember well was some kind of heart necklace. I think it was on a blue ribbon "chain" and the heart appeared to be glass. It was either clear with transparent blue around the edges or had blue casing around it. It had a small diamond inlaid in it. I don't think the heart was perfectly symmetrical.
Then Mrs. P. said that this one was very expensive and a price--like something on QVC--flashed up on my lefthand side. It read $300, I think. Something like that. But I thought that it was very expensive. The price sign was rectangular and gray like on QVC but I can't remember what else it said.
* [the heart necklace] heart about this big. diamond could have been on other side. About this big. maybe like this
Will Sing For Money
There was some kind of teenage club that was trying to raise funds. I can't remember this dream very well. But one girl in particular, with short blond hair--I think it was Greta M., a high schooler--was talking and walking around a lot, confident like. This was all in my house; I think she was dressed in a white T-shirt and white shorts, and it might have been overcast outside. I was sitting on the floor in the living room and "Greta" was walking back and forth in the dining room. She was giving a speech, I think, and though I saw only her I knew she wasn't talking to herself. I think she was either trying to gain support or psych up the other club members--it was a female high school club--wherever they were. I had the feeling that they were standing all around even though I couldn't see them.
Then "Greta" took a microphone which was attached to my tape recorder (my little recorder from Christmas) and began to walk back and forth again in front of the ironing board, singing into the mike. My tape recorder acted as a speaker. I don't remember what she sang, but I think it was a slow song, and she didn't sing bad but she had the kind of voice it would be hard to dance or sing to. It was deep, but I can't explain it.
* ["Greta's" hair] kind of like this, but shorter. Curved to head, bangs brushed down
The Vanishing Tornado
The dream that scared me most and was closest to a nightmare was this one. I think I was kneeling at the living room picture window, watching the wind blow the clouds across the field. I might have been in my room earlier, watching, and came out to get a better look. Dad was nearby, maybe ironing something or sitting on the couch. I can't remember if the TV was on or not. Anyway, these low clouds (too low for real life), with the sun making their smooth, round bottoms shine goldish-white, were skittering south very quickly, and I remember thinking it looked like time-lapse photography. I might have turned but I looked again and saw a dark gray tornado in the field. It was smooth and didn't seem to move; it must have been very small since it was in the Dodders' field and didn't seem to be hurting anything (then again, so were the clouds), but I was terrified and shouted for Dad. I called for him to come outside with me and look.
We were in a hurry. I put on a brown and white coat which was a little too small for me--somehow I think of my brother Eric, so it may have been his once--and Dad also put on a coat; I think it was his light white jacket. He told me to put on a coat (he might have said, "Put on Eric's coat"; perhaps that's why I suddenly thought of Eric), and I told him I already did. It must have been cold outside.
Then I started to drag him out and run down the long driveway to the yard, only I wanted him to carry me because I was so scared, I didn't want to be separated from him by the tornado. He wouldn't carry me and I tried to keep a hold of his arm because of my fear. Then we got either to the yard or the end of the driveway and...there was no tornado. /:( It was overcast but not "cloudy" cloudy like it had been before. (The sun had shone yellow-white but there were many clouds then.) I think the wind had died down. I'm almost sure we was still outside.
Now I'm not sure what happened first, but somewhere along the way it got dark blue. It may have gone like this, and this is the way I think it went: When I was inside and saw the tornado it was light; when we were getting ready to go out and were running down the driveway it was dark; and when we looked for the missing tornado it was light but not sunnyish as before (though I'm uncertain; it might still have been sunny). That's the way I think it happened, but I'm not sure. When I say dark blue I mean the color of my Zebra Posi-Grip pencil, about. The trees were bare, leafless, and as I've said it was cold. Dad wasn't mad but acted like, "Oh, well."
As we walked back up the driveway, back to the house, I think I was holding his (right?) hand and looking ahead, feeling slightly down, perplexed. That's how I felt. And I have the feeling I must have looked and acted a lot like a little kid--very young, helpless, afraid, and confused.