Dream Journal 2

I'm walking through a college town, similar to Urbana Champaign, or DeKalb, I cross paths with a girl who is a student at the college, she is blonde, pretty, around 5'7", 130 pounds, sweet and friendly. She isn't following me but we keep meeting on the streets. I cross through a wooded passing and then find myself, by chance, to be at my friend Ward's house, the house is part fictional, partly based on fact. I feel self-conscious that I have not seen him in years, and then I see the girl and she appears to be lost, or too far out of town and I ask her if she'd like to join me at my friend's house. My conception of myself is to be older than her, but slightly younger than my physical world age. She accepts and I knock on the door and wonder how Ward will react, I see him and his first wife Laura, who both graciously accept me into their home, Laura is wearing a furry pajama suit, white, and it makes her look very thin. As I pass into their house I am conscious that Laura is looking at me and I am aware that my face is ugly, but I stay as cool and as accepting of this fact as I can, knowing most likely she won't mention my bad looks. I take a seat and the house is sometimes enclosed and other times partially outdoors. The girl is now gone and my friend Dave is there with his gf Carol and I know I am lucky to have friends, aware that this makes me look normal and safe to the girl. The girl is no longer at the house but she shows up now at the front door, lost, and we invite her in and I am about to puff on a blunt but pass it to her and she takes a hit then gives it back to me and I take a big inhalation. I notice Ward's house has an ice cream cooler and counter like in a shop, I can see 10-15 buckets of flavors, colored brightly pinks blues reds, and we walk over to get scoops of ice cream and then I find myself and the ice cream counter partially outdoors, at a place where I have been before, in prior dreams with Ward and he has lived at this place and I recognize it. I notice hot dog buns and other foods and Ward explains that he helps the owner of the house/bar/restaurant as a counter man and scooper. I imagine Ward's main job, which is scooping ice cream for people and giving out hot dogs, he mentions it gets busy on the holidays. I turn to the girl and ask her name, she says it's Sarah, and we all introduce ourselves, before it comes to me I become self conscious again, the thought that my name, Jim, is second rate, passes through my mind and I know I'm going to have trouble pronouncing it because of how it flows off my tongue, and when I tell her my name I do have difficulty, the m seems garbled so I have to repeat it and then I feel that the impression of my name on Sarah must be neutral at best. Even though I'm aware that I'm ugly I can't stifle feelings of attraction for her, and awareness of my advanced age does not inhibit my desires for her affection, to feel a connection with her. I find myself admiring how Ward lives, working odd jobs for money and in his remaining time working on his art and spiritual advancement. I realize I love Ward because his life is a mirror for my own, he is my spirit guide, always has been. It is now night and I ask Sarah how she is going to get home. She does not know. Ward's house is now further away from the town and the roads which surround it I have seen before, along with its location. My black Schwinn bike leans against the garage, as if I had ridden it to the house instead of walked. I ask Sarah if she'd like to ride my bike back into town and she agrees, but then I realize it's a bad idea because the roads are dark and she might get hit by a car. I am enjoying her company and know I will miss her, but at the same time our meeting seems fated and easy, as if we have a strong, yet very short, connection. We all leave Ward's house and decide to drive Sarah into town, I see a red London-style double deck bus pass by, very close to me, and I sense that I don't know how to ride one, how to get a ticket, but that I will soon need to learn how. I wake up, it is 5:00am, I immediately try to get back into the dream, to be in a lucid state, I close my eyes and imagine Sarah and Ward. I almost get there, almost. It is still dark in the room and I want to return to sleep, but if I do I will forget the details of the dream, so I get the laptop, sit up in bed, and write the details.

Dream Journal I

Before sleeping I focused on wanting to mind travel to India or Thailand, and once there to find myself as a monk living in a small hut. Also focused on wanting to be conscious that I was dreaming, or lucid dreaming. Woke at 6:00am and instead of being in India I was in urban USA working a clerk job which I did not know fully well, which must have meant I was new at the job. My supervisor was Joyce, who was my supervisor at the Art Institute.

At one point I felt distanced from my workmates, sensing the usual feeling that I was different, not necessarily inferior, but because I am unable to feel comfortable and wanted in a work group, it basically does mean that I am inferior in that particular environment. I know in the big picture that everything has its value, but in the realm of human society I have and always be a loser, most likely due to having my consciousness tethered to an ugly body. It's like being a white tulip growing amidst 200 red ones. Nothing I can do will change the color of the flower, and how I ended up in a bed of red tulips is a mystery. I also sensed the familiar dread of having willfully given up my freedom of time and space, knowing that day after day until I quit the job or die that I have to spend the best part of the long day stuck in an environment I don't like and doing an activity that is meaningless. This type of dream is my hidden consciousness alerting me that I have a question in life that my visible consciousness has not yet answered, and that question is how do I get money without giving up my freedom and not ending up in a place where I am a white tulip surrounded by red ones.

At one of my warehouse jobs, in 1990, the office manager came back into the warehouse and stood smoking a cigarette. After observing me for a bit he spoke to me and said "you don't belong here." He didn't say it in a mean way, but in a way of someone who is looking at a bed of flowers and notices one flower that is not the same color as the others. He was basically saying, you should be somewhere else where you fit in. I knew he was right, but at the same time I also knew that my life karma at that moment was to be someone who did not fit in, so I accepted this and was grateful that I somehow managed to still be grudgingly accepted and not completely wiped out by others who knew I was different. At my shipping job at Morningstar a workmate once old me "you think your'e better than everyone else." I found it interesting that he believed he could read other's emotions and thoughts, and that his guess could be completely wrong. I can't recall my reply, but I know I did not tell him the truth, which was that I felt the opposite, that I was inferior to my workmates due to the fact that I did not fit in, both physically and spiritually.

The final part of the dream I was asked to do a task for my supervisor for the first time, to call UPS  and give them her name. A few hours later Joyce arrives, along with the UPS driver and he mentions that I did the task right, but why did I give her last name before her first. I pondered this while he spoke with Joyce and after a minute or two of reflection realized she had written her name last, then first on her instructions. I was pleased, and not surprised, by my ability to follow detailed instructions, which has always been a saving strength for me. The UPS driver then went to the front of the bus and began driving, and we started to move and I realized that Joyce's office was located in the middle of a bus, and one of my workmates, Tasha, who I worked with at the Art Institute, was now with us, so I sit down and marvel at the fact that we are driving down a road on a mobile office. I feel distanced from Tasha and Joyce when Tasha asks Joyce to call in her stock trading company and sell bitcoin that she can make a million dollar profit. When overhearing this I feel despeondent about my own fate, having a few thousand dollars in the bank and no way to stop coming in to work day after day. At least Tasha can quit, but I doubt she will because most people who work fit in and don't feel the need to quit and find a better place to be.

I woke up with the bus driving down the road to an unknown destination.