Dreams 10/22-10/28-2003

10-22-2003

(1) In some complicated dream involving lots of people packing for a complicated departure, I notice that there are large animals to be packed. People are laying tigers down on the grownd and folding them neatly, like laundry. There is also a giraffe laid out on the ground, awaiting folding.

(2) A computer game is mentioned, written and distributed by "C. Haynes". I wonder if that is the same person as Charles Haynes.

(3) I'm witnessing a complicated sort of aerial recreation, a cross between hot-air ballooning and parasailing: A person in a harness is lifted by a hot-air balloon, and is tethered to a vehicle on the ground.

While this paraballoon is being towed over a cold, snowy landscape, the gasbag ruptures, and the paraballoonist begins to fall to the ground. Fortunately there are rescuers standing by (I seem to be one of them), who swoop in and snag the balloon, lowering it and the paraballoonist gently to the ground.

Once on the ground, it is no longer snowy, but dry and lumpy: the ground is solidly covered by carrots and potatoes. As we stow the balloon and get its passenger out of his harness, some of us are picking up these vegetables.

The paraballoonist mentions that he played football, as a running back, in high school.

There is a buzzing sound. I am gathering potatoes, and feel a vibration in one on the ground as I prepare to pick it up. The buzzing is the sound of bees, and this potato is very close to the entrance of an underground beehive. I hastily back away, fearing possible attack by a swarm of angry bees should I disturb their hive.

(4) I'm inside a wooden building, like an assembly hall, with a group of people. The interior of the building goes dark, and the walls are lit by firelight, as if they are themselves on fire (but they are actually not – this is some kind of illusion). Seen as silhouettes against the illusory flames are the shadows of dancing children, our enemies. The shadow-children dance in time to evil music that fills the hall.

This is a magical attack on us by our enemies, and if something isn't done quickly, they will defeat us. I counterattack by singing in a loud, bass voice, to a tune of my own: "THIS MU-SIC IS NOT GOOD MU-SIC; THIS MU-SIC IS <pause> CRUEL MU-SIC!" I sing the phrase over and over again. Will it drive our attackers away? I don't get to find out, because at that point I awaken.

10-23-2003

(1) All I remember of this lengthy and complicated dream is of being by the side of a lake that is surrounded by a high, thick wall. There are stairs on the inside of the wall, and I climb them to get to the top. I look around at the lake, at the surrounding countryside. Then I go down on the outside.

(2) I am preparing to return to school, to Caltech, to get another degree. I spend a lot of time wandering the Caltech campus trying to find the office of the program to which I want to apply. I remember it the office being in one of the library buildings [this dream-campus is nothing at all like the Caltech campus in the waking world], but when I go there I discover that the office is there no longer: it had been there only temporarily, while its permanent offices were being constructed. I never actually get to the program's offices.

I also spend some time thinking about precisely to which program I wish to apply. The program I've been thinking about is a humanities program. Maybe I don't want to get a Ph.D. Maybe I should get another masters instead. Or maybe I should apply as an undergraduate and get another bachelors. Maybe I should get another bachelors and another masters.

10-24-2003

For some task or purpose, it is necessary that I cut my hair and shave my beard. It is the first time my chin has been clean-shaven in many years. I see myself from an outside perspective. I don't recognize myself: my chin is prominent and pointed.

10-26-2003

(1) D. is about to finish a course in aeronautical and astronautical engineering. Unfortunately, NASA is undergoing a series of budget cuts and is not hiring any more. None of the graduating students will be able to get jobs. I ask D. about this, and she assures me that recently she has been taking classes in other subjects so that she is more employable in other fields.

(2) I arrive in Kwajelein to teach a class in health statistics at the local high school. School hasn't started yet. I run around getting errands done, and finish my errands unexpectedly early. I think about what I could do with my time. It's three o'clock, and I have to be at a meeting at five. Suddenly it occurs to me: this is a perfect time to go to the gym and work out.

The YMCA, I recall, is attached to the high school. I get on a bus and take it to the site of the school. I pull the chord to ring the bell as we approach the stop for the school. I see, though, as I get off the bus that at the site of the school there is now only one small building. A FedEx truck is parked there, making a delivery.

I discover that the rest of the school's buildings, including the gym, had burned down last month. No workout for me today! And the classroom for the class I am to teach, along with the other high school classes, has been relocated to another school.

Some people are indignant about some nuclear wastes that had been stored on campus unbeknownst to the community. Those nuclear materials had been consumed in the fire and gone up in smoke. The school's principal assures us that this is all for the best, and that the nuclear waste is now safely disposed of.

I have to sign a disclosure indicating that I have been made aware of the location change for my class. There is a small crowd of other teachers and student teaching aides around the table where the disclosure from is waiting. I wait for my chance and turn the form around to read it to find where I am to sign it. While I am reading it, a student aide snatches it away from me and signs it himself.

I take the form back and scan it for the place where I am to sign. I can't find it; there is no listing for "health statistics" or "statistical health" in the list of affected classes. I hope that this won't turn out to be a problem.

A rival teacher is gloating at me, expecting that I am going to look bad in front of the students. It is raining, and I am getting soaked. My rival starts taking photographs of me in hopes of using them to discredit me with my students. But he's wrong! He doesn't understand that those pictures of me standing in the rain will win their sympathy and increase their rapport with me. My rival is completely clueless! I laugh at him, mocking him, as he walks away.

I take out a flyer for a school event, something involving a visiting professional football team and its cheerleading squad. I begin to hatch a scheme to embarrass my rival, one that involves a famous supermodel, who happens to be married to one of the players on the team.

10-28-2003

There are mice in my room. They are funny-looking mice, with coarse gray-white fur, long, thin bodies, and knobby heads.

I hunch down in my bed with a high-powered rifle with a sniper scope. Against the far wall, miles, away is one of the mice. I set my sight on it, allow for range and windage, and squeeze the trigger. I can see the wake of the bullet leave ripples of distortion in the air between us. The bullet hits the mouse, which topples over, dead.

I take sight on another mouse. But as I am aiming I see more ripples in the air. The mouse is firing back! But because I can see the bullets coming, they are easy to dodge. I fire, and hit my target.

I cross the room to investigate further. There's another mouse, sticking its ugly head up. My cat Rocky suddenly appears and pounces. It's a perfect kill: Rocky grabs the mouse in his clawed paw and quickly brings it to his mouth, where he breaks its spine with a quick bite. Rocky plays with the body for a bit, then looks for more mice to kill.

There's another cat in the room, but it isn't our other cat, Chewie. It is a strange cat who must have come in through the cat door. Half of its fur is dark, but half is a shiny silver-blue color.