August, 20074 8 13 16 17 18 22 23 24 26 30 31
I have a coupon or rebate for replacement of my car body (and interior?). My wife (Frances) and I go over to an auto-repair-and-body shop. I am driving. She is in the passenger seat. I take the (all black, kind of boxy or angular) car in and leave it with the folks at the shop. They check out the engine and find that is (it) is fine, not simply as good as new but like a super-engine, running superbly and with far more horsepower than most cars of this (standard sedan) size. It also has little wear and tear. It is really sturdy. The car is old, but it's a classic and reliable as jungle rain. The mechanics' report is good news, of course, but I feel a little disappointed, for I thought I wanted to refurbish the engine and replace the body (using the coupon or rebate), thus having a great new car, perhaps one that seems sportier or more modern. The body goes with the engine. It is built to last, heavy-duty, much tougher than the contemporary models. It has been fixed and repainted a few times, but just fits the engine perfectly in form, style, and durability. There is a lot more tempered and reinforced steel in it that (than) we can get in car bodies of today. I follow my first impulse anyway and ask the mechanics to honor the coupon and to give me a new body. They look doubtful but have an attitude of "the customer is always right, even when he's wrong." They get ready to do the requested trade. I confer with Fran and say I am not sure I am doing the right thing. She has been silent till now, just going along with what I wanted, but, since I've expressed misgivings, she feels free to say what she things (thinks), that the old body is just right for that engine and, if it were up to her, she would not have changed it. I realize I have made a mistake and want the car left just as it is. To heck with the coupon! I go to cancel the order and get my great car back.
8/8/07 - Title: "Preying Creatures to Discuss or Watch"
1. I have been designated as the person in charge of a discussion group. This was not my choice, and I do not feel up to the task. The group is quite large, perhaps a couple hundred people, sitting in folding chairs in tightly packed, orderly rows in a big meeting room or hall. The topic changes at each meeting. Tonight it is the preying (praying?) mantis. There is an illustration handy of one, a pen-and-ink drawing about 6 inches tall. After I briefly introduce the topic of praying (preying?) mantises to the group, I ask how many have knowledge of this topic and so could speak on it. I am surprised when scores of hands go up, maybe 30-40% of the group. I realize we have more than enough specialists to fill up our discussion time. I suggest we limit the talks to those who are experts and that each speak for 10 minutes. I make a lame attempt to introduce the topic myself, with a few comments before the first speaker starts, but several people point right away out that some of what I say is wrong, so I stop trying to facilitate for the group at all and just let the speakers talk, one after another. (I don't know how we determined who would go first, next, etc., but assume the speakers are self-selected and go up just as they feel like it. They all seem to have interesting things to say. None are challenged by the rest of the group as I had been.)
2. We have a dog. He (she?) becomes interested in some animal a little up in a tree (maybe 5-6 feet off the ground) in the backyard. I do not see it, but have the impression it is a large cat species, maybe a mountain lion. However, it could be a wolf. There is no sense that the animal is a serious threat. It's position in weak branches is very precarious. We can just all stay indoors until it has left. There are a couple children in this household too, it seems, who normally play in the back and climb into the same lower parts of the trees where the creature is now. They are quite curious about it, but I am watching them and believe I can keep them from danger.
8/13/07 - Title: "Onward Through the Fog"
1. I'm in a suite or apartment, waking up slowly and then getting ready to start the day. All is quiet except for my activities. I assume I am alone. Then a man appears from around a partition (partial or incomplete wall) and says "Good Morning," and I realize he is one of my two roommates. I still do not see or hear the other one, but comment to the first that lately I have become rather forgetful or have been making wrong assumptions, for instance just now that I was alone, not recalling that I had roommates (room-mates). "In fact," I tell him, "I do not remember your name."
2. I'm with two friendly male characters, one of whom is a murderer, though at this point I am not sure which one. In a roundabout way, I figure the one with a Revolutionary War musket (rifle) is the killer. Thinking I have the other man's cooperation, I decide we shall apprehend the killer and turn him over to the police.
Somehow, this involves my driving at night in an unfamiliar area of the city with the other two. We park on a side street and go to an all-night cafe/bar. But when, after a few minutes there, I decide it is time to go ahead and take the killer to the authorities, both of the others have stopped cooperating. Indeed, it seems the cafe manager/bar tender (bartender) is friendly with them and wants to help them avoid the police as well.
I realize my first assessment may be wrong and that I do not know which of them is the murderer, or if they both are. I leave alone to get my car, drive over to find the police, and tell them where the possible murderers are.
"Good luck finding your car on a night like this!" the one I had first thought was not the murderer yells as I am leaving. And, in fact, I realize I cannot recall either the name of the establishment or the part of town where it is, and I am quickly forgetting the names of the two possible murderers too.
Outside, there is such thick fog that the wholesome, girl-next-door streetwalkers (prostitutes who, though young and attractive, are not dressed or made up in any way distinguishable from other youthful women, just attired in a not flashy manner reminding me of conservatively dressed Hollywood movies (movie) stars in black-and-white films of the 1930s [Great Depression era]).
These women just suddenly appear, one at a time, walking out of the fog a few feet in front of me, each once she sees me offering her services in a quietly discreet but direct way as she gets close to me. I turn them down with regret and continue searching for my car, but with less and less hope of finding it. I expect I'll have to ask the help of the police.
They have sturdy, brightly lit, and colorful (blue and white) vehicles, "manned" by two-person female crews, out helping people find their missing cars, periodically stopping near a likely prospect, using computers and searchlights to confirm, from the recorded car descriptions and license plates, they have found the right ones, then calling in the news to Mr. or Ms. (So-and-So), that "We have located your vehicle. It is at (such-and-such address), near (this and that) intersection. Thank you for using our Vehicle Locator Service. Feel free to call us anytime." It is embarrassing, but I must ask for their help too.
8/16/07 - Title: "Beware Cash-Only Sea Voyage (Maritime Trip) Deals"
Several relatives have disappeared. I know that they had contracted with a pair of brothers to be taken on a cruise or other fairly short trip by sea, though I do not know precisely when they were to depart and return. The brothers and their small maritime business have been doing Very (very) well, "making" lots of money (or at least becoming wealthy). And they cannot or will not account for the absence of my relatives. They deny ever seeing them. I know, but cannot prove, that they have gotten cash for taking many people on boat trips, people who now have disappeared. I am convinced the brothers took all the victims' available money, killed them, and dumped their bodies overboard at night, outside the harbor in shark-infested waters. There now appear to be dozens or perhaps scores of people unaccounted for who presumably have been bumped off by the murdering brothers, though as yet there is no proof.
8/17/07 - Title: "All the World's a Stage, and Pete and I Are Mere (Mer?) (Merely?) Players"
I am impressed with a dynamic, polished, urbane personality who, in a large busy populated lower level area, befriends me and helps assure I successfully negotiate the ins and outs of this nether world existence, find a meaningful thread that connects me to several rooms here, get some of the refined ("let them eat cake") food available here, and enjoy a show or two, where live entertainers perform on a small stage. Then, I see a tray sitting on the floor containing all the costume elements of this personality and even the top half of it sitting there upright on the tray, as if it were simply a clown costume one could put on for a performance, head, chest, arms, and all, and I realize the whole thing has been part of a dramatization starring my brother, Pete. I wonder where he is now that he is out of costume, for not since he was a young teenager can I recall a time when he has been simply genuine, vulnerably and completely himself, not putting on a phony act. I am all the more impressed with the polished personality, knowing now what a great performance it was and is, but am sad to think of Pete without this protective cloak. I wonder if I shall find the real Pete in some corner down here, cowering and frightened, or if he will be happy being himself and just enjoying a break from performing.
8/18/07 - Title: "Out of My Hands Now"
I am making exceptional efforts to get a new job. For instance, I have a thick, carefully constructed application I am submitting at the final minute, indeed, after the final minute, for I squeeze in once the establishment has officially closed and talk my way into having an extra several minutes alone to finalize and submit this sheaf of application papers and references. I pull it off, but am uncertain if all my frantic, persistent, last-minute efforts will have been worthwhile, so that I'll land the job. Still, I am satisfied that I at least put my all into the attempt.
[I have no idea what the dream job is that I'm trying so hard to secure, or what it would mean to my waking life if I do or do not land it.]
8/22/07 - Title: "A Ghost in the Garage"
It is late evening or at night and is dark outside. Puff and I are home alone. We both hear a noise from the garage. This is spooky. I open the door between the kitchen and garage and flip on the light. Puff is on the floor at my heels looking too. I think we both expect to find some ordinary explanation for the noise we'd heard, perhaps a cat that somehow got trapped in there. With the kitchen to garage door open and Puff and I both looking in at the ordinary garage, we hear the noise again, louder now and somehow ominous. Something is there making a noise, but we can see nothing causing it. Spookier and spookier. The outer garage doors are closed. Everything appears to be normal, the cars there as usual (but with their hoods up), and misc. other stored things are as and where they ought to be. I seem to realize there is no rational explanation, and then, as if to drive this point home, the noise, indescribable except like something large, malicious, metallic or mechanical, and heavily material shifting by itself, comes again, almost daring me to explain the unexplainable. We see nothing shift at all, but clearly something is there doing this. It is a menacing, malevolent kind of sound under the circumstances. I am shocked and very frightened. Puff is quite alarmed too. I seem to wake up in my terror but cannot cry out. Then, as though screaming through clenched or locked jaws, I make a weak, pinched yell, so slight I come fully awake and realize that my yell had been still a dream yell, while asleep.
[The sense of terror and menace persisted on waking, as though the presence of something independently willful but invisible in the garage were quite disturbing. - This afternoon, I picked up a new book selection for my discussion group: A Ghost in the Machine, a title not consciously remembered till at the library today, where it had been on hold since a week earlier. - Puff is my wife's and my nearly 4-year-old female wirehair fox terrier. She is quite playful, emotional, extroverted, cute, creative, companionable, and intuitive. ]
8/23/07 - Last night the DG discussed my "A Ghost in the Garage" dream. Highlights:
8/24/07 - Title: "Mister Mom"
I see a single image, as if a photograph, of a man in the nude, a profile view. He is clearly very pregnant. It looks like he could give birth at any moment.
[I had asked for an answer in a dream, following my "A Ghost in the Garage" nightmare, to the question: "What needs to change?" Thinking about the dream, I realize natural childbirth is out of the question, but a caesarian ought to do the trick. As with the other dream's unexplainable and powerful sounds, there is no rational explanation for this image. I do not know who the pregnant man is (did not notice or remember), but assume he is meant to be me or one part of me.]
8/26/07 - Title: "Getting Into Stuff"
1. A young woman and I are getting acquainted. I am younger as well. We are quite interested in one another, though the conversation topics are all neutral or scholarly. Our talking is thus lively and stimulating.
2. There is a cityscape similar to Venice, with lots of deep, dark canals or old quarry water holes. At one point, I fall or get into one of these and am swimming. The cool water feels good on my body.
3. I'm in a strange place, partly outdoors, partly indoors. I'm doing productive researches on my own, but a lushly sexy woman takes an interest. I explain. She says by coincidence she is a magistrate and able to judge my specialty. We both are pleased that to test my abilities we must undress and have lush, powerful sex in a dark, private bower. We get it on.
8/30/07 - Last night, the DG discussed my "Out of My Hands Now" dream, among others. Highlights:
8/31/07 - Title: "Time for Study, Fun, and Help for an Agitated One"
1. I'm a student at a college campus and am younger again, though still somewhat older than the average folks on campus. I have returned after not completing the coursework my first time here. There is a foreign student, a small oriental (Asian) gentleman, perhaps my roommate. He is rather agitated, insisting we must order a special ring right away. Evidently I had agreed to eventually help him with this. The ring is part of a long family and national tradition for him and is very important. It is somehow tied to his completing his studies here. Acquiring it will prove his place in that tradition, as if it is a royal ring, and entitle him to acceptance as the leader in his country of origin. I picture it as a thick, wide, shiny gold band, perhaps with a royal seal on top. I privately think the ring ordering process can wait. We are as yet near the beginning of the new semester, but he is anxiously insistent, as though he believes any delay or failure to follow all the procedures and traditions will have dire consequences for him. So, though without much personal sense of urgency about it and mainly to appease him, I agree to help him start the ordering process soon.
2. I am taking one very tough course. It will likely require more effort than the others. There is a big exam coming up in this course. I believe I can do alright on it if I really concentrate and focus on the lectures and book. However, the book is terribly thick and is filled with details, while my memory is not the best. It seems to be a history text, but a better one than most, with elaborate, interesting connections drawn between or among all sorts of separate times, peoples, and events, leading up to the present. A teacher or professor (who reminds me of Sonya) is not my instructor for this hard course (which is led by a male scholar) but a friend and advisor, aware of my overall situation. She encourages my having good study habits, particularly for this toughest course.
3. I see several attractive younger women. I am younger than I am now, but not as young as most of them. I'm about in my 30s. They probably are in their 20s, except for on (one) I've known before who is about my age. We happen to be going across campus in the same way (direction) and to be near one another, this earlier known woman and I. She seems more mature than I and a little leery of me, as though suspecting (no doubt correctly) I'm an irresponsible slacker, prone to go for quick and easy satisfactions and solutions rather than having commitment or persistence. I ask her out, telling her I'm only taking 12 hours this semester, and so ought to have a little time for fun. I call [can] tell that my having less than a full course load confirms her misgivings about me. She politely turns me down and goes on her way. I'm not particularly disappointed. Indeed, it is almost a relief. Now I can hit on the younger women, with whom I'll have more chances of success and carefree enjoyment. Any sense of obligation or loyalty toward the first woman, due to our former friendship, has now been taken care of.