Dream Journal

Dream 5/13/15

I had had a few "nightmares" in a row this morning and didn't want to start the day on that note so I told myself I was going to try one more time and that I would allow only good thoughts and a good dream. This is unfortunately what followed.

Sitting at a round cloth covered table in a darkened gymnasium which had been transformed for prom. Not a gym I remember from the real world. I am in some fluffy god awful chiffon floor length dress with off the shoulder puffy chiffon sleeves. It is pale pink. I would never wear this but in the dream I was protective of it. The room is full and everyone is sitting and watching something on a large projector  screen in the center of the wall I am sitting closest to being in a corner near an exit. I am trying desperately not to  draw attention to myself. I keep having stuff appear in my mouth that I have to spit out. It is gritty like little tiny pebbles and sand and then sometimes there are piece of metal. I spit them into my hand and can see them shiny and silver and reflective of the little light coming off the screen. Some pieces of the metal are up to a centimeter in size. 

I see on the table some of the clear plastic organizer boxes I keep my beads in. I am not sure if I am pulling beads from my mouth or just using them to make something (because it's not so crazy to think I'd bring a craft project to prom) but the beads are mixed up and strands of half done projects are tangled and I can't separate them. I want to chuck the whole thing but don't want to waste the beads. I can even recognize some of the strands from projects left undone in the waking world.

I'm still chewing trying to collect all the debris in my mouth and spit it out but there becomes more and more to the point where I  feel like I have to vomit. I stand up, move quickly but quietly toward the gym door which thank goodness I am seated right near and go out into the hallway to find a bathroom. 

Hall is unfamiliar. There are lots of doors and I don't recognize where they might lead but it's like any high school but maybe from many years ago. The colors are warmer. Like a mossy green. The doors are stained wood and have glass panels set in the upper part so you can see inside. I pass a room with a teacher working bent over at a desk. He is young, maybe 30, tall and gaunt and has fluffy shaggy dark hair like its 1970 and he is totally not cool. He looks up just in time to see me pass and I don't see his mouth move but I can hear his thoughts. His voice in my head sounds a bit like the comedian Steven Wright. In his mind and in mine I hear him say "where is she going?". There are many doors around but I see a door ahead of me that I somehow know is the bathroom. And head toward it. And I hear another thought from the shaggy haired teacher "oh she's going  to the bathroom, probably pregnant" and then he gives a snort as if to say typical; throwing up on prom night.

 
I push open the bathroom door the same color scheme very woodsy. There is a large old-school round metal garbage can with a lid. I lift off the lid to start spitting inside and see there is no garbage bag which for some reason is a strong deterrent to me. I put the lid down and turned to look for another place to spit as I am now beginning to heave. There are two or three small stalls and one large one at the back. The smaller stalls doors were all ajar the back larger stalls door was closed and yet I headed straight for that one. I opened it and inside instead of a toilet there was a perfectly made (with a patchwork quilt no less) half sized bed, normal twin sized width but the length was for a dwarf, a sink, and a very large different type of metal garbage pails. It was like the garbage pails in labor and delivery rooms are the ones that have the footpedal that opens the lid only this one was so tall that it was difficult for me to lean over the side to spit into it without leaning my chest or my chin on the edge of the garbage pail which grossed me out to touch. I finally felt free to spit what was now a very very large amounts of metal and debris and pebbles from my mouth into the pale . So I did. 
In the waking world I spit saliva all over my hand which happened to be up near my face and that woke me up.

10/23/14

I had a bit of a rough night last night and was up for most of it. I passed out around 12:30 after asking Rich to make me lunch and insisting I wasn't tired.

I had an amazing dream.

We lived in this big house. BIG. HUGE.

Palatial. Modern. Vast open spaces. So much light.  I don't mean, a big house. I mean like an airport. Like a museum.

Every door opened onto another sunlit space. Around every corner another vast chamber of light. It was all white. Impossibly tall ceilings. Walls of windows. Interesting architectural elements, curves, surprises. As I wandered through the house and would come upon a new space I would simultaneously think "oh I remember this now" and "holy crap how awesome is this! I forgot all about this".

There with so much potential in every room. So many rooms that weren't being used properly. Like if you just turned the furniture and put it against a different wall  or threw a nice coat of pain on the wall it would make everything in the room makes sense.  Everywhere there was light, and open spaces. Huge rooms with many just a few pieces of furniture. Like making the sculpture gallery at the Met your bedroom but setting the bedroom up in one neat corner.

It was a beach house. And it was located on a strip of land similar to those impossible houses along the oceanfront that you see when you're driving along Ocean Parkway. Kind where you drive-by and wonder how you get to be the lucky soul we can live or at least summer one of those places. And you also kind of worry that it's going to get washed away in the next storm but figure hey they're wealthy, they can afford flood insurance.

I wandered through the house sometimes alone sometimes showing parts of it to my mother. It did not look like my house at all. It looked as thought we had been living in only a small part of it and the rest was left the way the previous owners had left it. Only, we'd be living there a while now.  As though my shabby snug little ranch was attached to it and that was all we'd been living in and I completely forgot that through one particular door was %90 more house. It was like I was seeing it with fresh eyes all that potential that we could've been using the whole time.


There was so much space not even being used. I opened a few closets and they were empty. And I remember thinking "wow we don't even have enough stuff to fill these I guess we will grow into the house". 

Every room a beautiful open light filled space.

We gathered on the top floor in the back of the house. It was an impossibly long long narrow room one wall made up entirely of windows facing the ocean.

the room also doubled as a home theater and there were two or three rows of leather couches set upso that the rows behind were a little higher than the ones in front of it. There were other people scattered on couches further down away from us but I didn't know them and didn't seem to mind other people being in "my house". We sat on the white leather couches and talked about the possibilities.

A little while later I was walking with my mother around the property. There seemed to be a large number of people gathered on the  side of the house. Their attention was on the sky. We looked up and saw a skinny man with bushy hair (think Bob Ross) flying down from the sky attached to a parachute. He seemed to swirl over the heads of the crowd wildly causing many to shriek in fear. Then he landed perfectly and elegantly and everyone clapped. Another pair, two women, obviously good friends, sitting on a double wide old school lawn chair in bikinis and sunglasses came to a landing in just the same way.

I was overwhelmed with a sense of freedom, purpose, and hope.

Freedom: from financial limitations. This house with all its possibilities that I could spend a lifetime curating and celebrating in. Freedom from stress and anxiety. I was totally chill. Not at all overwhelmed at having to take care of something so big. The feeling that all would come in time and I was in no hurry.

The house though most likely representative of my conscious/subconscious/unconscious mind felt like my ovaries. Clean slate. Open. Ready for change.

Flying in dreams is very telling. Controlled flying is control in your life. Feeling euphoric. Out of control flying is far more common and means an out of control life or situation. Seeing these other people flying though they appeared out of control they were totally calm. They trusted they would land softly and sturdily and they did. I panicked watching them careening around above my head and then .....all was fine.

All will be fine.

I made the right choice.

10/2 - Dreamt I was mackin it with David Boreanaz

Was it HOT YOUNG POUTY BROODING David Boreanaz from Buffy?

Of course not.

Even in my dreams he's too hot for me.

I was making out with chunky grumpy  David Boreanaz from Bones

Even so I was pretty stoked and surprised by his obvious and rabid interest. Rabid...as in sloppy, drooly, exploring the depths of my throat with his tongue rabid. 

Why would I, in a rare "sex" dream, be making out with David Boreanaz....and he was terrible at it?

Somehow I don't think I"m going to find the meaning of this one in a dream dictionary.