Stanford, TV video type work, my mom, Chicago, & Stanford again -- dreams
Dreams I have had since the last time that I reported my dreams. There were several segments in these dreams that I could not remember when I woke up.
I had one especially interesting dream, but the problem was that I could only remember it for a couple of seconds when I woke up and then its memory disappeared.
1. I had one dream I could remember more of, although there were still unremembered snippets to it, and I do not remember the exact sequence of segments in the dream. In the dream I went to stay with Danny R at Stanford University. My stay with Danny R went well because we did not wear each other out with each other's company, but rather though I was staying at his house we both went our own ways during the days. He looked like a college guy, young looking. He was his usual exuberant energetic self. My new car had been transported a long way by boat or by train or something, I think the car had been transported to Stanford (it is the kind of car that is especially useful in California). It was in a lot and I asked someone how I could find it in amongst all the other cars that had been transported. I was wearing a knapsack and slipped into some water; the weight of the knapsack was drowning me in the water. This was an unacceptable outcome to me so I simply took shallow breaths underwater and by my own willpower ended that segment of the dream. I always thought that towns in California would be the type where you cannot get from one place to another without a car, spread out, but the town Stanford was at was set up so everything was in walking distance; there were rows of one story high houses and buildings with crimson roofs. There was a swimming pool at Stanford that was like three swimming pools on top of each other, like a three story building. I was on the second or third floor pool, I knocked three books that belonged to someone who was sitting by the pool, they fell into the pool below. they were slowly sinking into the water. I was preparing to dive from the floor I was on into the pool below, so as to rescue the books before they sank into the water. In one segment in the dream, I had gotten a long hand-written letter on light blue paper from Davianne Brown the Northeastern U track-athlete/student.
I had had another dream about Danny R earlier, which I never reported because at the time I was tired out by a cold or a flu or something. In that dream Danny R was living in the apartment buildings on 59th St. between Blackstone and I think it was Harper, the street next to Blackstone. I went to visit him he was happy to see me he wanted to share his food with me.
I had both these dreams after I sent an email to him that he did not reply to. Though I hear people badmouth him, and though he did not reply to my email my dreams about him have cast him in a good light.
2. In a dream after I had the above dream about Stanford, there were four segments that I could remember. In one segment, Jonathan Hall the WHDH TV reported and myself were both working at a market research firm. Hall wore gray slacks and a pink shirt with no tie. I was dressed similarly I do not remember what I was wearing. In another segment, Erin G who used to be on the Tufts track team, was lying on the ground in an almost fetal position in a train station. Her hair was long straight and black. She was lying on the floor like this because she was dissatisfied. In another segment, I saw Dan Rather on TV. The lighting and the positioning of him on camera, the angle of his face relative to the camera, were an imitation of the lighting and the angle and the positioning in a video I had been shooting at my apartment (the footage I shot is in computer at WCAC TV). However Dan did not look and sound as impressive as I did during the few minutes I appear on the video at WCAC TV. There was another segment which could be interpreted to be an example of me criticizing myself through my own dream symbolism. I will not report this segment because of the hyper-critical, judgmental, condemning persons who would go nuts with such a segment, using it to judge and condemn me.
3. One of the nights after the night in which I dreamed the dream (2) listed above, I dreamt that I saw my mother sitting in a courtyard, there was a gray stone wall about 20 yards wide and 30 yards long, and my mother was sitting inside the courtyard that this rectangular wall bordered off. She looked small and low in the courtyard. The floor of it was gray stone also; there was some green lawn in it, and no ceiling. I told my mother that I hoped that she went to a place where there was joy and no pain.
4. These segments may have occurred the same night as (3), maybe they occurred a night or few after. In one segment I saw a bunch of nice lightweight cushions and pillows that had been dumped on the street, on either 57th Street in Hyde Park or 59th St. in Hyde Park. I thought to myself, just the thing for my small SUV, my Honda Element! I drove back to pick them up, but when I got back they were in a store. The salesman in the store said that they, the pillows, were dirty from snakes crawling on them because someone had left them in their garage. In another segment, there were big floods at the University of Chicago. Big buildings with big wide open lobbies, buildings on 57th or 59th street in Hyde Park, were flooded. I saw two huge eels, each about 20 yards long and four feet wide, slither up a wall in one of these big lobbies. It was as if there was water on the wall up to about ten feet, then dry space of about ten feet, and then more water on the wall, and the eels became visible as they entered the dry space between the wet spaces.
5. The next night, on the internet, there was some kind of essay machine. The web page that was the interface was a dark yellow. You typed your essay into the main box at the top, and below the main box in smaller boxes there appeared material such as other web pages using the same words you were using, and analysis of the form and content of the essay, words used, and so forth. In another dream this same night, a young white male high school student from the rural USA Midwest was being interviewed in an elevator. In another dream this night or a few nights after, I dreamt that my brother was in two places at the same time. In one place he wore a white India-Indian shirt and in another place he wore western clothing. This confused me. I found out that eleven copies or clones of my brother had been made, but that this was being hid from me.
6. One or a few nights after the night on which I had dreams described in (5) above, I had a couple of dreams, this after listening to, on coast to coast AM with Noory. Noory had been discussing with callers whether Sharon Tate and the ones with her were murdered because of cocaine disputes. In the first dream, I was splitting up cocaine on a tray in the apartment I lived in during high school. It was as if one big part of it was for one guy who was the Republicans, another big part of it was for another guy who was the Democrats, and a third much smaller part of it was for another guy who was an independent. My brother was looming over the scene. It was chaos, whereas the math of it should have been quite simple. It seemed the guys arguing over the splitting up of it would cause it all to fall on the ground, and thereby screw everything up. I in the dream felt high, though I was not in reality high (proving that through the powers of the unconscious we can experience the high of a drug without actually taking the drug?). While I was high I wanted to look at beautiful naked women. Then my mother came walking out of the back bathroom towards the room I was in after taking a shower. I had to pack up the cocaine I was splitting up and hustle back to my brother's room in the back of the apartment. In my brother's room I saw big posters of nude sexy women, and there was a poster of a black woman with basketball shaped and sized breasts whose face looked like the face of some round-faced black man who was not ugly.
7. There was another dream the same night as dream 6 described above. In this dream, I was in California looking for Danny R now a Stanford bigshot. Danny lived at 5 Tarpley, it was 5 Tarpley Ave, or Street, or Avenue I'm not sure which. But by mistake I wound up somewhere around 28 or 30 Tarpley street. There was a residence within tall dark yellow walls, there was an open air courtyard within the walls. Some MBA students with MBAs from Stanford and maybe from some other places lived in the house and courtyard inside the high dark yellow walls. The walls looked like they were made of clay, they were about 20 feet high, the whole architecture of it was the Spanish-influenced California type. In the courtyard there were youngish white MBAs who were female and male. One of them was a pretty white woman with long wavy yellow and brown hair, who was about five feet eight inches tall, sitting on a rock, sort of in that mermaid-on-a-rock position. These MBAs were well paid, say $100K per year or above, and as I looked at them I was thinking to myself how it was weird that employers acted as if these people with MBAs were worth so much more than me. I said to this guy I was with who was similar to me, like my twin, that the MBA is phony, meaning that the people with MBAs do not really know anything that makes them any better than say a CPA. Me and this guy I was with played some of these Stanford MBA types in ping pong or something. There was a guy of slim-average build, about average height, with yellow hair and beard, who was in about his twenties, who looked like General Custer of the famous last stand against the Indians. These Stanford MBA type folks were of medium to slim build, not especially muscular, and lacked the arrogance you find in muscular husky college football player types who act as if they were doing something very charitable just by saying hello to you. Next thing I knew there were say about fifty Stanford types in the courtyard, including men with gray hair and a gray beard and mustache. They were all singing and some of them were smoking marijuana. Their singing was pretty good, it sounded pretty good (when I awoke I realized that the Haitian women who lives beneath me had been playing Christian-type music loudly so I could hear it while I was having this part of the dream). I remember one of them was this handsom-ish white guy with a short gray beard and mustache, who was wearing a crown. He was well built and about five feet eight inches tall. Looking at these folks singing I was thinking, wow, out here in California you can really find these artistic types who are hippie like and liberal despite being successful academics, John-Steinbeck-Salinger types, folks who are nice and tolerant and like young people (though mature) and into being good to people, even though they are successful academics, even though their hair has turned gray.
I had one especially interesting dream, but the problem was that I could only remember it for a couple of seconds when I woke up and then its memory disappeared.
1. I had one dream I could remember more of, although there were still unremembered snippets to it, and I do not remember the exact sequence of segments in the dream. In the dream I went to stay with Danny R at Stanford University. My stay with Danny R went well because we did not wear each other out with each other's company, but rather though I was staying at his house we both went our own ways during the days. He looked like a college guy, young looking. He was his usual exuberant energetic self. My new car had been transported a long way by boat or by train or something, I think the car had been transported to Stanford (it is the kind of car that is especially useful in California). It was in a lot and I asked someone how I could find it in amongst all the other cars that had been transported. I was wearing a knapsack and slipped into some water; the weight of the knapsack was drowning me in the water. This was an unacceptable outcome to me so I simply took shallow breaths underwater and by my own willpower ended that segment of the dream. I always thought that towns in California would be the type where you cannot get from one place to another without a car, spread out, but the town Stanford was at was set up so everything was in walking distance; there were rows of one story high houses and buildings with crimson roofs. There was a swimming pool at Stanford that was like three swimming pools on top of each other, like a three story building. I was on the second or third floor pool, I knocked three books that belonged to someone who was sitting by the pool, they fell into the pool below. they were slowly sinking into the water. I was preparing to dive from the floor I was on into the pool below, so as to rescue the books before they sank into the water. In one segment in the dream, I had gotten a long hand-written letter on light blue paper from Davianne Brown the Northeastern U track-athlete/student.
I had had another dream about Danny R earlier, which I never reported because at the time I was tired out by a cold or a flu or something. In that dream Danny R was living in the apartment buildings on 59th St. between Blackstone and I think it was Harper, the street next to Blackstone. I went to visit him he was happy to see me he wanted to share his food with me.
I had both these dreams after I sent an email to him that he did not reply to. Though I hear people badmouth him, and though he did not reply to my email my dreams about him have cast him in a good light.
2. In a dream after I had the above dream about Stanford, there were four segments that I could remember. In one segment, Jonathan Hall the WHDH TV reported and myself were both working at a market research firm. Hall wore gray slacks and a pink shirt with no tie. I was dressed similarly I do not remember what I was wearing. In another segment, Erin G who used to be on the Tufts track team, was lying on the ground in an almost fetal position in a train station. Her hair was long straight and black. She was lying on the floor like this because she was dissatisfied. In another segment, I saw Dan Rather on TV. The lighting and the positioning of him on camera, the angle of his face relative to the camera, were an imitation of the lighting and the angle and the positioning in a video I had been shooting at my apartment (the footage I shot is in computer at WCAC TV). However Dan did not look and sound as impressive as I did during the few minutes I appear on the video at WCAC TV. There was another segment which could be interpreted to be an example of me criticizing myself through my own dream symbolism. I will not report this segment because of the hyper-critical, judgmental, condemning persons who would go nuts with such a segment, using it to judge and condemn me.
3. One of the nights after the night in which I dreamed the dream (2) listed above, I dreamt that I saw my mother sitting in a courtyard, there was a gray stone wall about 20 yards wide and 30 yards long, and my mother was sitting inside the courtyard that this rectangular wall bordered off. She looked small and low in the courtyard. The floor of it was gray stone also; there was some green lawn in it, and no ceiling. I told my mother that I hoped that she went to a place where there was joy and no pain.
4. These segments may have occurred the same night as (3), maybe they occurred a night or few after. In one segment I saw a bunch of nice lightweight cushions and pillows that had been dumped on the street, on either 57th Street in Hyde Park or 59th St. in Hyde Park. I thought to myself, just the thing for my small SUV, my Honda Element! I drove back to pick them up, but when I got back they were in a store. The salesman in the store said that they, the pillows, were dirty from snakes crawling on them because someone had left them in their garage. In another segment, there were big floods at the University of Chicago. Big buildings with big wide open lobbies, buildings on 57th or 59th street in Hyde Park, were flooded. I saw two huge eels, each about 20 yards long and four feet wide, slither up a wall in one of these big lobbies. It was as if there was water on the wall up to about ten feet, then dry space of about ten feet, and then more water on the wall, and the eels became visible as they entered the dry space between the wet spaces.
5. The next night, on the internet, there was some kind of essay machine. The web page that was the interface was a dark yellow. You typed your essay into the main box at the top, and below the main box in smaller boxes there appeared material such as other web pages using the same words you were using, and analysis of the form and content of the essay, words used, and so forth. In another dream this same night, a young white male high school student from the rural USA Midwest was being interviewed in an elevator. In another dream this night or a few nights after, I dreamt that my brother was in two places at the same time. In one place he wore a white India-Indian shirt and in another place he wore western clothing. This confused me. I found out that eleven copies or clones of my brother had been made, but that this was being hid from me.
6. One or a few nights after the night on which I had dreams described in (5) above, I had a couple of dreams, this after listening to, on coast to coast AM with Noory. Noory had been discussing with callers whether Sharon Tate and the ones with her were murdered because of cocaine disputes. In the first dream, I was splitting up cocaine on a tray in the apartment I lived in during high school. It was as if one big part of it was for one guy who was the Republicans, another big part of it was for another guy who was the Democrats, and a third much smaller part of it was for another guy who was an independent. My brother was looming over the scene. It was chaos, whereas the math of it should have been quite simple. It seemed the guys arguing over the splitting up of it would cause it all to fall on the ground, and thereby screw everything up. I in the dream felt high, though I was not in reality high (proving that through the powers of the unconscious we can experience the high of a drug without actually taking the drug?). While I was high I wanted to look at beautiful naked women. Then my mother came walking out of the back bathroom towards the room I was in after taking a shower. I had to pack up the cocaine I was splitting up and hustle back to my brother's room in the back of the apartment. In my brother's room I saw big posters of nude sexy women, and there was a poster of a black woman with basketball shaped and sized breasts whose face looked like the face of some round-faced black man who was not ugly.
7. There was another dream the same night as dream 6 described above. In this dream, I was in California looking for Danny R now a Stanford bigshot. Danny lived at 5 Tarpley, it was 5 Tarpley Ave, or Street, or Avenue I'm not sure which. But by mistake I wound up somewhere around 28 or 30 Tarpley street. There was a residence within tall dark yellow walls, there was an open air courtyard within the walls. Some MBA students with MBAs from Stanford and maybe from some other places lived in the house and courtyard inside the high dark yellow walls. The walls looked like they were made of clay, they were about 20 feet high, the whole architecture of it was the Spanish-influenced California type. In the courtyard there were youngish white MBAs who were female and male. One of them was a pretty white woman with long wavy yellow and brown hair, who was about five feet eight inches tall, sitting on a rock, sort of in that mermaid-on-a-rock position. These MBAs were well paid, say $100K per year or above, and as I looked at them I was thinking to myself how it was weird that employers acted as if these people with MBAs were worth so much more than me. I said to this guy I was with who was similar to me, like my twin, that the MBA is phony, meaning that the people with MBAs do not really know anything that makes them any better than say a CPA. Me and this guy I was with played some of these Stanford MBA types in ping pong or something. There was a guy of slim-average build, about average height, with yellow hair and beard, who was in about his twenties, who looked like General Custer of the famous last stand against the Indians. These Stanford MBA type folks were of medium to slim build, not especially muscular, and lacked the arrogance you find in muscular husky college football player types who act as if they were doing something very charitable just by saying hello to you. Next thing I knew there were say about fifty Stanford types in the courtyard, including men with gray hair and a gray beard and mustache. They were all singing and some of them were smoking marijuana. Their singing was pretty good, it sounded pretty good (when I awoke I realized that the Haitian women who lives beneath me had been playing Christian-type music loudly so I could hear it while I was having this part of the dream). I remember one of them was this handsom-ish white guy with a short gray beard and mustache, who was wearing a crown. He was well built and about five feet eight inches tall. Looking at these folks singing I was thinking, wow, out here in California you can really find these artistic types who are hippie like and liberal despite being successful academics, John-Steinbeck-Salinger types, folks who are nice and tolerant and like young people (though mature) and into being good to people, even though they are successful academics, even though their hair has turned gray.
posted by David Virgil at 3:10 AM
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