Dreams about a wrestler, busty women in bikinis, bras, and flying
1 There was a very tall white female wrestler, medium build, with straight short yellow hair, stretched out flat on her back in a wrestling ring. I saw her from far away, not above her but horizontally speaking about 20 yards away from her.
2 A couple of very tall, very busty women wearing bikinis were walking around. I saw them from a vantage point about 30 yards above them.
3 I was looking up brassieres in a card catalog in a college library. I figured this was a good way to maintain my relationship with busty women. I used to write Christian content letters to bra shops that sell big bras, and then I found that I had become popular with busty women. Women with small breasts should not feel offended. I think all types of women are attractive in their own way; I think that you cannot really compare busty women to small breasted women because that is like comparing apples to oranges. You might say, that amongst busty women woman X is physically speaking the most beautiful; or you might say, amongst normal sized women woman Y is the most beautiful; but I dont think you can really say, that woman X is more beautiful than woman Y because that is like comparing apples to oranges. Realistically speaking looks is part of life; but other factors, such as voice, personality, intelligence, gracefulness, are realistically or idealistically speaking important also.
4 IN THE DREAM, it was late evening, and I started off on the south-west border of the Midway in Hyde Park Chicago, and literally FLEW from there over into Hyde Park near the northeast border of the Midway. I somehow trained my body to literally fly; I got my body a few feet off the ground, and kept IT in the air for several hundred yards, moving along at around ten miles per hour. I moved by flapping my arms like a bird, and by kicking my legs as in a dolphin kick in swimming, and by moving my arms as they are moved in swimming. Incidentally, I think I have a chance at at least getting very close to world records for my age group in swimming (after having been out of practice for a long time, after only about 6 hours of training over the course of 3 weeks, I swam 250 yards in 5 minutes) but the hobby of swimming has for me lately been screwed up by various obstacles.
In the dream, I crossed the Midway and got to Hyde Park, flying several hundred yards. I wanted to go further than I did before stopping to train myself physically, but I got real tired. I was sweating. I was counting off in some kind of unit how far I had gone. This unit was not yards, it was, probably, the number of times I flapped my arms. After 215 or 216 such units I stopped at this apartment building in Hyde Park that looked like the apartment building that I lived in as a high schooler. It was brick, with front and back porches, it was three stories tall. I flew to the building and landed on the roof or one of the porches. Some guy at the building looked at me admiringly, the way fans look at pro baseball stars; I knew that he admired me the way fans admire baseball stars, for my athletic feat in being able to actually fly, without any mechanical assistance, for several hundred yards.
I landed at the building and began discussing with some people at the building, whether I could take off from the second or third floor porch, and fly off that way, without falling and hurting myself. I was talking about how When I start off from the ground, by the time I get into the air I have built up some momentum, the way a helicopter builds up a kind of storm beneath it to get it going, however, I pointed out that if I attempted to start off by just jumping from a second or third story porch, I might sink like a stone and hurt myself, because I would be entering into the air without building up a kind of vortex of air beneath me.
Someone I am acquainted with, Jenny A., who went to my high school, was in this building, although it was a complete coincidence that she was there, it was not the building her family lived in, it was not a building she was listed as living in. I did not arrive at the building to harass her because I did not know she lived at this building. I caught a glimpse of her tremendous thighs in tight blue jeans somewhere around the lower floor of the building--I saw her from about 10 yards above her.
RE Jenny, in real life I had called her parent's house on the phone in Chicago, and then her dad made up a story (vain-glorious ambition?) about how I had been obsessively calling his house in Chicago over and over again; he called my dad to complain. The reality is, and the phone records prove this, that I did not call the house repeatedly, excessively, or obsessively.
In the dream, I was wandering around this apartment building that I landed in after my flight. I was not breaking laws or intruding on privacy--I was wandering around the hallways that connected the apartments, and these public hallways had doors that opened on to the front and side porches.
On one of the porches, I encountered my mother. She was wearing some kind of whitish gown or robe that looked like a bathrobe. She was sitting, I think on the porch wall, a couple of yards away from me. She talked to me as if I was guilty of landing at the apartment building to harass Jenny. This was false; I did not even know that Jenny had anything at all to do with the apartment building that I had landed at; I had simply landed there because I had gotten too tired from flying. My mother talked to me in a condescending way, nodding her head in a condescending manner, with an ever so slight condescending smile on her face, about how I had been looking at pictures of naked women. Her whole attitude, was that I was some kind of immature pervert, who was harassing a woman (Jenny) who was above my social level. I felt humiliated and unjustly persecuted. I slapped her in the face (I never did any such thing to her in real life, but, once, a very long time ago, upon being provoked, I very mildly punched her on the shoulder in a symbolic kind of way, without hurting her at all, which led, thanks to her complaints, incredibly, to me being incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital for a week). In the dream, me slapping her produced a noise like a gunshot. People in the area became startled. I figured my mother would add to the problem by calling the police or something. I figured people who heard me slap my mother would never understand the psychological torment she was putting me through by talking to me in that humiliating, condescending, falsely accusatory manner. I was trying to decide if I should escape from the apartment building by flying away...I WOKE UP.
When I woke up I looked up the numbers 215 and 216 on the internet. Apparently the number 215 is not considered to be especially significant; but the number 216 is amongst those who are into such things considered to be a very important number. Some consider it to represent God, and some consider it to represent the devil. Reading web pages by numerologist types, what struck me is how certain of these types seem to go to absurd, insane lengths to give special significance to mathematical coincidences. Seems to me, that these people in their nuttiness fail to realize, that you can take any number associated with any event, and find all kinds of significance in it if you really want to. Then again, when numbers appear in dreams, it becomes more reasonable to consider them to have perhaps some kind of significance.
2 A couple of very tall, very busty women wearing bikinis were walking around. I saw them from a vantage point about 30 yards above them.
3 I was looking up brassieres in a card catalog in a college library. I figured this was a good way to maintain my relationship with busty women. I used to write Christian content letters to bra shops that sell big bras, and then I found that I had become popular with busty women. Women with small breasts should not feel offended. I think all types of women are attractive in their own way; I think that you cannot really compare busty women to small breasted women because that is like comparing apples to oranges. You might say, that amongst busty women woman X is physically speaking the most beautiful; or you might say, amongst normal sized women woman Y is the most beautiful; but I dont think you can really say, that woman X is more beautiful than woman Y because that is like comparing apples to oranges. Realistically speaking looks is part of life; but other factors, such as voice, personality, intelligence, gracefulness, are realistically or idealistically speaking important also.
4 IN THE DREAM, it was late evening, and I started off on the south-west border of the Midway in Hyde Park Chicago, and literally FLEW from there over into Hyde Park near the northeast border of the Midway. I somehow trained my body to literally fly; I got my body a few feet off the ground, and kept IT in the air for several hundred yards, moving along at around ten miles per hour. I moved by flapping my arms like a bird, and by kicking my legs as in a dolphin kick in swimming, and by moving my arms as they are moved in swimming. Incidentally, I think I have a chance at at least getting very close to world records for my age group in swimming (after having been out of practice for a long time, after only about 6 hours of training over the course of 3 weeks, I swam 250 yards in 5 minutes) but the hobby of swimming has for me lately been screwed up by various obstacles.
In the dream, I crossed the Midway and got to Hyde Park, flying several hundred yards. I wanted to go further than I did before stopping to train myself physically, but I got real tired. I was sweating. I was counting off in some kind of unit how far I had gone. This unit was not yards, it was, probably, the number of times I flapped my arms. After 215 or 216 such units I stopped at this apartment building in Hyde Park that looked like the apartment building that I lived in as a high schooler. It was brick, with front and back porches, it was three stories tall. I flew to the building and landed on the roof or one of the porches. Some guy at the building looked at me admiringly, the way fans look at pro baseball stars; I knew that he admired me the way fans admire baseball stars, for my athletic feat in being able to actually fly, without any mechanical assistance, for several hundred yards.
I landed at the building and began discussing with some people at the building, whether I could take off from the second or third floor porch, and fly off that way, without falling and hurting myself. I was talking about how When I start off from the ground, by the time I get into the air I have built up some momentum, the way a helicopter builds up a kind of storm beneath it to get it going, however, I pointed out that if I attempted to start off by just jumping from a second or third story porch, I might sink like a stone and hurt myself, because I would be entering into the air without building up a kind of vortex of air beneath me.
Someone I am acquainted with, Jenny A., who went to my high school, was in this building, although it was a complete coincidence that she was there, it was not the building her family lived in, it was not a building she was listed as living in. I did not arrive at the building to harass her because I did not know she lived at this building. I caught a glimpse of her tremendous thighs in tight blue jeans somewhere around the lower floor of the building--I saw her from about 10 yards above her.
RE Jenny, in real life I had called her parent's house on the phone in Chicago, and then her dad made up a story (vain-glorious ambition?) about how I had been obsessively calling his house in Chicago over and over again; he called my dad to complain. The reality is, and the phone records prove this, that I did not call the house repeatedly, excessively, or obsessively.
In the dream, I was wandering around this apartment building that I landed in after my flight. I was not breaking laws or intruding on privacy--I was wandering around the hallways that connected the apartments, and these public hallways had doors that opened on to the front and side porches.
On one of the porches, I encountered my mother. She was wearing some kind of whitish gown or robe that looked like a bathrobe. She was sitting, I think on the porch wall, a couple of yards away from me. She talked to me as if I was guilty of landing at the apartment building to harass Jenny. This was false; I did not even know that Jenny had anything at all to do with the apartment building that I had landed at; I had simply landed there because I had gotten too tired from flying. My mother talked to me in a condescending way, nodding her head in a condescending manner, with an ever so slight condescending smile on her face, about how I had been looking at pictures of naked women. Her whole attitude, was that I was some kind of immature pervert, who was harassing a woman (Jenny) who was above my social level. I felt humiliated and unjustly persecuted. I slapped her in the face (I never did any such thing to her in real life, but, once, a very long time ago, upon being provoked, I very mildly punched her on the shoulder in a symbolic kind of way, without hurting her at all, which led, thanks to her complaints, incredibly, to me being incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital for a week). In the dream, me slapping her produced a noise like a gunshot. People in the area became startled. I figured my mother would add to the problem by calling the police or something. I figured people who heard me slap my mother would never understand the psychological torment she was putting me through by talking to me in that humiliating, condescending, falsely accusatory manner. I was trying to decide if I should escape from the apartment building by flying away...I WOKE UP.
When I woke up I looked up the numbers 215 and 216 on the internet. Apparently the number 215 is not considered to be especially significant; but the number 216 is amongst those who are into such things considered to be a very important number. Some consider it to represent God, and some consider it to represent the devil. Reading web pages by numerologist types, what struck me is how certain of these types seem to go to absurd, insane lengths to give special significance to mathematical coincidences. Seems to me, that these people in their nuttiness fail to realize, that you can take any number associated with any event, and find all kinds of significance in it if you really want to. Then again, when numbers appear in dreams, it becomes more reasonable to consider them to have perhaps some kind of significance.
posted by David Virgil at 10:21 PM
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