Dream Diary 062114: Madonna, Memories, and the Halloween Tree

I am in a theatre with lots of people. Madonna is there.  As she is leaving she kind of makes fun of me for actions I took when I was a fan of hers. I eat a weird pie that is mostly re-fried beans. Nacho pie?  I talk to a lady that says she and another couple hang out with Madonna regularly. The woman is a strange turtle lady with a weird flat neck thing.  I rub her neck thing.

Night at the house. Young friends. College? It is an old friend's house. I look outside. One of his dogs has found a way through the backyard fence and has run out.  It is harassing other neighborhood dogs.  I go to tell my friend about his dog, but we talk about weed instead. He says he has stopped smoking completely. I tell him I am not chronic anymore just occasionally. We recount old times.

I have a memory of following behind a pizza delivery guy wearing a backwards ball cap. His car is a convertible.  A police car comes over the hillside with lights flaring.  The pizza guy is on the wrong side of the road and faces off with cop's car. The cop passes. The pizza guy's hat flies out and away. He stops to find it.  We stop our car to tell him where we saw it land.  He is blonde with short buzzed hair.  Back at the house, everyone is exploring the basement. I miss the tour.

An old boyfriend is soaking in a bathtub. I run outside to decorate the Halloween tree and put out "take one" signs for the toys and candies hanging there.  There are little skeleton signs that say take one and lots of skull designs. Most everything glows. The house is wrapped in black plastic. When I go back inside he is under the water face down. Drowned?  Meditating?

I wake.

Dream Diary 121714: Big Snow and the Invisible Dog Thief

I am moving through a space that is equal parts small city and large map – of a gaming world? I am speaking to someone out of view and to my left and behind me. We are discussing the NPC's that his character killed. One was named Uto? Zuto? His body lies just off a small island on the map. There is a reason that we must commemorate the dead. That same island has something to do with fiction writing. A new method emerges concerning the completion of stories. It has something to do with an author taking a story to a particular point and passing it to another author. There is a feeling that the rotations are limited? Each author only writes half the story and passes it on to the next to complete the fiction?

I am standing outside an entryway to a hotel? There has been a snowstorm recently. The snow is partly melted and icy. It is very cold. We can see our breath. The entrance doors are large wooden doors with open slits at the bottom. I tell the attendant on the other side (an older man with an indian accent) that I am waiting for my old friend to arrive. He has been delayed on the freeway because of the weather.

The attendant passes a small receipt stapled to a larger set of papers through the slit and asks me to sign it. The receipt looks like one from a small mom and pop restaurant. I have trouble figuring out where to sign, there are multiple lines for such. From the noise coming through the slit, he sounds very busy. I realize that this is for some form of room reservation. I am not getting a room, but I sign anyway as I just want to get in out of the cold and he is too distracted. I am part of the convention that is happening here, I just don't want a room. I figure that we can work it out once I am inside.

There is an entry hallway inside the hotel that faces a large set of windows. The snow is falling. It looks beautiful. I can see individual flakes. They are intricate and as large as cookies. The flakes are piling upon themselves before they hit the ground, creating strange birdlike shapes. The snow keeps changing into a light rain and back again. There are many people waiting in this hallway area with their luggage. An old friend is going up to her room. I tell her that I will see her later, but that I must wait for my other friend to arrive. I can feel the cold through the windows.

I am in a medium sized room that has lots of light colored wood in it. There are three doors leading out from the area: one is a double door frame with no doors with a set of stairs leading down, the other is a regular door frame with no door, the last is another door frame with no door. There is a large pit? In the center of the room. I am setting up a store front with a lass case and lots of items. There is a feeling of Wicca / Magick about the event. I feel anxious about getting everything set up in time.

There is a large group setting up across from me at the other end of the room. There is a dark curly haired woman, older and slender. She is their leader? There is a younger blonde woman with long hair, also slender. There is a younger man to one side who is standing in a doorway. He has dark curly hair and stubble? Beard? He is the son of the older woman? There is also an older male who smiles a lot. He has stubble and dark hair. I feel he may be in a relationship with the older woman, but is not the younger man's father.

They are having trouble with their set up. There are several sculptural pieces that will not be finished for two days that are part of the display. By then, the show will be over. I move to face the display. I ask if there is a drawing of how the set up is supposed to look when finished.  I offer that, following the drawing, they might set up everything in the positions where it is supposed to be minus the sculptural portions that will be missing. The young boy from my left and behind me says that he does not work that way indicating that there is no drawing.

When I move back over to my area, I notice that my wallet is missing. A large hound dog? great dane? is walking off with it towards the door frame where the boy had been standing. The dog had been invisible until I realized that my wallet was missing. I stop the dog and get my wallet back. I recognize that the dog belongs to hotel management and file a complaint. This is the second time this has happened. When I return, the other group are hanging out at one end of my area.

I wake.

Dream Diary 102313 - 111113: Tzadkiel, a Candle, Spiders, and Suspended Animation

102313

There is a slender bearded man dressed in flowing a purple toga.  His dress is very ancient Greek in style.  He wears gold accessories and his hair and beard are dark red and long. He has several faerie-like attendants.  He walks through a crowded party.  Everyone else there stands still like statues.  Nearby there is a large decorative water fountain.  He is Tzadkiel?  Bacchus?  Dionysus?  Raphael?

102913

A woman that I worked with previously and disliked is my roommate.  We only have bunk beds to sleep in.  I am returning home.  I bring her a large white penis shaped candle.

103013

I lift up a container.  There are spiders on its underside. They are black and poisonous, but I do not read them as black widows.

111113

I am in a dark room shining a flashlight.  The cats are playing in the darkness.  I see the shadows of spiders.  The cats are playing with them but I cannot see where the spiders are.  I am anxious.

I am in a warehouse full with muslin canvas room separators.  I walk on the same aisle several times before I wake the Classic Star Trek cast from their suspended animation chambers.  They exit the suspension chambers through a large technological archway.  When they do wake, there are multiples of everyone: two McCoys, two Spocks, etc.  This activation also wakes many children who were in suspended animation.  They are all wearing international day costumes. There is lots of confusion and everyone who woke up is very disoriented.  Everyone is amazed at the number of people that were in the chambers.  I try to direct the large crowd to a temporary waiting space until we can figure everything out.

Upon waking the word Lornafan? Lornafin? is in my mind.

Weekly Mandala: Exiting the Oven

{8x8,  Digital Images manipulated in Adobe Photoshop}

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