Thursday, December 24, 2009


I'm driving on wet roads. It's raining and I'm in high-alert mode. The van in front of me stops and though I brake in plenty of time and with plenty of space, my car won't stop and taps the back of the van so slightly that I think the driver won't notice. He does notice though and starts yelling at me, his van having somehow turned sideways so he can scream out the window at me. I don't yell back but listen in exhaustion and exasperation.


I'm kissing an ex-girlfriend. It feels wrong, weird and bearing consequence.


1) On a platform or boat or something. It started raining and soon began to flood until my room was completely submerged, and I knew that all of my possessions were destroyed. The water level kept rising until a group of us were going to jump onto a grated metal platform to survive. The jump seemed possible, but by no means certain, and I felt deep regret that I had chosen to be there in that place when the rain had started, and I thought about how that one choice would cost me my life.

2) In a restaurant with Donald, a friend from Russia, and Jim, a friend of the present. The waitress was Russian, and we chatted with her and were friendly. I was not ordering food because I had already eaten, and she said to me meanly, "Я знаю, почему вы не ешьте." I was bothered by this, so later I got up, walked over to her and said to her in a sincere but stern voice, "Я обиделся." I then went to the amusement park/carnival by myself, and met Donald there. I explained to him that I don't mind when people joke about my weight, but her intentionally aggressive tone upset me and I had to leave.


A girl who I sort of have a crush on was featured. The only thing I remember is that she told me she stays up really late and sleeps during the day, so I thought that would be a problem for us, and we wouldn't get to talk much.


In an interesting case of observation affecting experiment, this dream took place in my other Grandmother's bathroom, from where I watched out of the clear, unfrosted window as my grandmother and my mother swam in the pool outside and my Grandma talked about Heroes DVDs.


A blonde woman takes interest in me. At times, she is noticeably older than me and at times she seems closer to my age. She is what might objectively be considered a hot blonde, but she is not someone I would be attracted to in real life. We are in a store and she is affectionate, but I cannot overcome the feeling that it is only because she wants something materially from me. I begin to worry that she will start asking me for things and I will have to buy them to save face, despite the fact that I neither have the money, nor do I consider her someone I would want to be in a relationship with.


I'm sitting by Peter Petrelli and I lean over to tell him, "If you become Sylar's tool, I'll kill you." I felt afraid that I may have to confront Petrelli, because I knew he was very powerful.


Exploration of an old Adams Family/Castlevania type mansion that was at times mine and was at times more like ancient ruins. This dream contained float-jumping, a common occurence in my dreams.


Two parallel stories. In one, George W. Bush and I visit what seems to be some sort of crypt that houses dead bodies from the Salem Witch Trials. It is a cavern-like space, and the bodies mainly hang upside down by their feet from the ceiling. They are still fleshy and not skeletal. George W. Bush grabs one of the bodies, hands on both cheeks, pulls it to his face, squeezes it and keeps repeating "You're a witch, b***." I am filled with terror at the dark thought that he really believes these women were witches, and I think about how it will ruin him in the press once people find out.

Going on at the same time was a plane crash into an iceberg. The plane contained Barack Obama as well as everyone in the successive line of the presidency up to Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, who became president of the United States. Eventually, someone who we all know to be the Vice President takes back over, but Barack is never found.


At work. One of the Police Officer applicants is talking with two other applicants in the waiting room. He is acting gay in a very stereotypical way. The officers he is talking with seem to be treating him nicely and pass their psychological interviews. Later, we find out that those officers had violently attacked the gay man. All of our jobs are on the line because the psychologists failed to spot the violent tendencies of the officers.


The trash bag has gotten too complicated, and the general sentiment is that there needs to be a return to the simple, regular bag. I write a song for an advertisement, the lyrics of which are "It's just another bag it's the same d** bag. It's just another bag it's a bag." In the dream this song is considered both profound and catchy.


I'm in my grandma's bathroom, which is distinguished mainly by its small blue tile and the presence of baby wipes. Sitting on the back of the toilet is a small gelatinous blob, the main property of which is that every time I think about it, it grows larger. Although the blob is still small, I am filled with terror knowing that it will eventually grow and suffocate me in the bathroom.