Hans disappears

          I was in an office which was rather posh. It was very quiet, located on a hill, in a sunny garden. I was wandering around, bored, when I stepped in front of a window I glanced out and there was a tall, pale man outside who looked Dutch or Norwegian. There was one of those awkward moments when we both saw each other and it seemed that I had been peeping at him. I opened the door and let him in, saying something about how I hadn’t been peeping at him. He came in, and stood before the counter. I flipped a number of wall switches, and couldn’t’ find the one for the lights directly over the counter. I gave up, and walked around to stand on the merchant’s side.

          The man had trouble saying what he wanted. He said confusing things. We sat at a table and he took out paper and pens, and started drawing diagrams and pictures. The colorful pictures seemed to be architectural drawings of landscapes. There were nebulous blobs of color indicating various flowering shrubs or lawns or flowers. Over these he drew lines with a blue pen, straight lines that indicated where someone went. They originated at the top or toward the center of the page and traveled to the lower left hand corner, pointing generally toward me. He was trying to describe something that had happened.

          I followed him outside. We talked about him driving to San Francisco, and I lamented the fact that there wasn’t any public transportation. I said if there was a reliable subway, I’d go regularly to the city to catch a play or something. He said he’d see a hockey game at least once a month.

          I went back to the office, and as I was walking up to the door I saw a woman walking away. She had been waiting for me, and given up.  She was dressed in an old fashioned, flounced dress of gingham or something; suggestive of Little House On the Prairie. I called out to her and at first she couldn’t hear me, but then she did and turned around and came back. She turned out to be two women, and they were looking for the man. They walked up the garden steps toward me. They called him by name, which might have been Hans. They were ominously worried about him. The woman standing on the upper stair was disfigured. She was wearing a shirt which exposed her belly, which was deeply scarred. I looked at her face and it was also scarred. It might be that someone had cut off her nose, leaving a deep divot there. It might have been that she was in a fire.

          They came into the office, which was now bare of furniture or carpeting; just a big open room. They were looking for clues. There was a spot on the floor and they thought it might be blood, but I knew what it was, and it wasn’t blood. I helped them look, but I couldn’t get them to tell me plainly what was going on. They seemed to think he had been killed. There was an intrigue behind it.

 Hans is pretty amorphous. He can’t say what he wants, he’s pale and obscure. He can’t be illuminated. My first thought is that he’s one of my alters, who is no longer necessary, so has been killed off, or sent away, and that the two women are other alters, who are associated with him. The maimed woman would be a part of me which is injured. I hesitate to posit this interpretation directly, though, since it seems too pat. Sometimes a hat is just a hat, and sometimes it’s a symbol of something else. Is this dream a hat or something else? The warm, sunny, flowery garden and the architectural drawings are thematic. Peace and tranquility. The colors of the drawing turn out to be those of a painting I saw the next morning. It was on the website of a Canadian man. Hockey. Hmmmn.

The food guy

     I was in Iraq, walking down the street, wearing an abaya. I had it wrapped around my head like a shawl, and it was difficult to keep it on. I was watching the other women to see how they did it. I went into a building that housed an office I needed to visit. I went up several staircases, and had fun dancing up the stairs. A woman and her little girl were behind me and the little girl said sotto voce ‘mommy look that lady doesn’t move like other ladies!’ I started walking as much like the other women as possible, watching them. They held the skirts together and walked with tiny steps, leaning forward with their heads down.

    I came back to the same place ten years later. Instead of only Iraqis, there were tons of western students all around in

Very lucid dream

          I was in the Post Office after being off for a day. Betty’s things were all over. A tall thin man came in the office part, and opened the Showdown box from the back, and removed a pair of scissors and a half a pear from it. I tried to stop him, saying he couldn’t do that, but he showed me the scissors and on close examination I saw that they really weren’t ours. I wondered how he got in, since the door should be locked. The box had brown paper taped over it rather than the proper cardboard stopper. I found the stopper in the trash, with writing all over it. I took off the paper and put in the stopper, then looked around for stickers on which to write the proper information. I found a sheet of really old, pink stickers. Someone, looking over my shoulder excitedly asked for their own, and I said that these were really old, so only stickers for customers who had been renting a box for many years would have one. I found Showdown’s and placed it on their box.

          I kept getting distracted by things, and didn’t get around to doing my morning reports until it was too late. I heard banging in the lobby, so I looked out and workmen were hanging all sorts of decorations. I said I had thought the banging was just the electricians, but it I guessed that they were here for the official postal retail standardization. They said yes. There were five or six of them, and they were working outside the office as well as in the lobby. I had to pee, so I went out to the old outhouse. Usually I’m there alone, and just pee in a chamber pot, but with all these people around I had to use the old red outhouse. I went in and it was dusty and dark. I sat down and started peeing, and a swarm of flies came up and landed on my arms. I kept brushing them off. They were an odd sort of fly that didn’t startle easily, and when they started landing on my face, I was horrified, and brushed at them harder, which wound up smashing them on my face. I was peeing and peeing, but not feeling relieved, so I reasoned that if my bladder wasn’t empty after all that peeing, I must be sleeping, so I got up and left.

          Outside I looked around and wondered what I should do to take advantage of my lucid state. I tried leaping through the air, because in other lucid dreams I’d been able to sort of fly this way, and it was fun. I flew just a little bit. I came to so steps up to a porch, and all the workmen were up there, on chairs, having lunch. Their chairs crowded the pathway to the office door. I leapt up the stairs, half flying, and pounced on the men, who were covered with a yellow foam. I pulled at the foam, and teased them about what it was – meringue or something. I told them I was dreaming, so I could do whatever I wanted. I continued up the stairs toward the office, and there were so many chairs to navigate around, I fell off the walkway.

          It was three or four meters down, and I saw I was going to land partly on hard-packed earth and partly on some raised garden beds I had dug earlier in the dream. I landed without hurting myself; bending my knees and rolling into the fall. I went back upstairs and the men said teasing things about how that was an on-the-job accident and they posited that two things would happen: I’d get in trouble and be suspended, and that I’d be able to file a workmen’s comp claim and I’d get rich. I didn’t really understand how either thing would happen, and I just said – rather glumly and defensively – that if I was called to the committee or the hospital, well, I’d just go. They said no, no, we meant it would be a good thing! I shrugged and moved on.

          This time I got to a place that was over another level of patio, with a blue surface, which was once again three or four meters down, and I leapt on purpose. Again I landed easily, and thought or said “hey, I’m doing Parkour.” Next I went into a door, and there was a group of men and women at a table. Another tall, thin man was there. He offered to serve me some of what they were eating and I declined, saying I had already eaten. He then asked if I wanted something else, like a hot dog. An “active” hot dog (snicker), and I said “not yours”. Another man said some other things and then his wife got up, saying she’d be going somewhere. She leaned over a counter in a sexual, exposing way. I went over to her and said, ‘since I’m dreaming, I can do this!’ and I rubbed my hands over her ass and vulva. She was extremely thin, and I thought it wasn’t in the least bit arousing to feel her bones like that.  She took off her black dress, and was wearing a complicated bit of lingerie. A different man said he’d go with her, and they moved off. I moved on to the other side of the room and tried some more leap-flying. There was a person on the floor in the corner, and a disembodied leg, covered in striped a woolen sock. I rubbed the foot, saying something about being dreaming.

A tall, thin man flirted with me yesterday, and I was put off by that for some reason. He’s a nice  and attractive man, and my intellect tells me I should welcome his advance, but for some reason I just don’t. Thus the plethora of tall, thin men, and the sexual innuendo which simply doesn’t do anything for me.

I actually was off work yesterday. I’m also expecting to be audited soon, so I guess that’s what having all those strangers in my office is about. I had woken and gone back to sleep several times in the night, and actually had thought about getting up to pee, but decided to try for more sleep instead. There is something about the red outhouse that means something to me, but I’m not sure what. That barn red color was used on my old house…there was even a barn-red outhouse. I’m not sure if this is what the outhouse in the dream was about.