DREAM DIARY
If I remember the dream, it will live on here for everyone to remember.
This website started in June 2001; so after each month a new page will go up & previous ones will be linked here.
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2015: JAN    FEB    MAR    APR    MAY    JUN    JUL    AUG    SEP    OCT    NOV    DEC


Not many remembered dreams this month either, except these:

FEBRUARY 19, 2002:
Bar dream again. Same place - the old 611 Tavern here in Seattle.
This time I was opening the bar. The phone rang, and it was some woman claiming to have been a former customer, and she was trying to leave a message to the bar owner who had just left. I was writing down details on the front of a big phone book as she was describing various medical problems, including something wrong with her esophagus. The phone became progressively harder to hear, so I was asking her to repeat stuff more and more. It seems like it took five minutes just to get part of the phone number where she was at (which was a hospital of some sort). Music from a TV or a jukebox started playing, and that only made things worse. Finally, I noticed somebody had seated themselves at the end of the bar, so I said "excuse me I have a customer" and set the phone down on the floor.

At the end of the bar was an older gentleman who asked for a beer. I go to get a glass, but it seems we don't have the usual bar ware, just typical kinds of household cups & drinking glasses. So I quickly picked up a good sized drinking glass and filled it up at the beer tap. I said the beer was 75 cents and the guy puts $1.25 in quarters and two live shrimp-like creatures in my hand. They were red and about the size of jumbo shrimp and they had long spindly legs & antennae, but were fatter and didn't have the fan-shaped tails. I went back toward the center where the cash register is, put the two animals in a small glass, put 75 cents on the lip of the till (not yet open), and threw the other 50 cents in the glass with the shrimp creatures.

Four or five more customers immediately showed up before I could open the register. One asks for a cocktail, and I said "sorry, we only serve beer and wine". He already had a cocktail in his hand. He turned to talk to his friends, so I went to the next customers.

I next served a threesome at the opposite end of the bar. Again, one of them asks for a hard liquor drink, and I again said "sorry, we only serve beer and wine". She asked for a Coors Lite. The can I pulled out of the cooler had already been opened, so I put it in the bottom and grabbed a fresh one out of a 6-pack and served it. One of the others in the threesome asked what kind of beer we had, and I started telling him "let's see... Budweiser, Bud Light, Miller, Miller Lite, Coors, Coors Lite, Heineken..." and named a couple of other weird sounding names as well. I woke up from this dream before that last guy had a chance to decide upon a beer.

As far as I know, the phone was still on the floor with that poor woman on the other end.



FEBRUARY 22, 2002:
This dream was really fragmented, and I only remember it in bits and pieces.
I was walking through what seemed to be a seedy part of town, trying to get home. It started raining, but I saw the sun shining a block or so away, so I followed it. Soon I was back in the sun, yet the rainfall was continuing. Steam and mist rose from concrete steps and other objects that were in the sun with the rain hitting them.

The next thing I remember is being on a bus heading toward home. Somehow it became an elevator, attempting to reach the street level. I don't know what the building was or why the bus changed into an elevator. The elevator stops and I start to get out, but it opens to some kind of rich people's "transport ship" like a spaceship out of the future. I stepped back inside the elvator while saying "I can't afford that" and the doors close. Some lady whines and bitches that somebody in that spacecraft cabin heard the comment and was upset by it. I told her in no uncertain terms where to stick it. Another woman starts nitpicking about my clothes and my hair as if I were white trash. I was carrying a shirt which I said was Ralph Lauren. The woman then BIT my small diamond earring right out of my ear and began doing something to it. I asked her what she was doing, and she said in a sarcastic voice, "I'm polishing it". Shortly thereafter, the "elevator" became a bus once again, and stopped. I paid 81 cents fair (that's what it said to pay on the farebox) using 8 dimes and a penny, thanked the bus driver, and stepped off. I heard the earring being thrown at me and clattering on the bus steps, but I did not look for it and instead ignored it and continued walking.

Still trying to get home, I started walking along the wider than usual shoulder of a freeway. The sign above the freeway entrance said it was OK for pedestrians. A short while later, the freeway kind of ended somehow and transformed into some kind of large stucco building complex, which I tried to walk *around* but ended up trapped in a maze-like courtyard. The courtyard had several dozen black men, all shirtless and smelly, walking aimlessly around. I didn't feel comfortable being there, and eventually found what appeared to be a way out. It led to a dark alley like place, filled with bags of garbage, drug manufacturing equipment, drugs, and guns. Among the individual items I saw was a big brown glass jug with a white hose sticking out the top, many spent shell casings, and several high powered rifles stood on their butts leaning against walls and bags of garbage. At this time I realised I was barefoot, so I took care not to step in the broken crack pipes and booze bottles. I thought I'd stumbled across an illegal gun deal in progress, but it was just a couple of guys smoking a bowl, and I left this area without anything bad happening. The guys smoking out even took the time to say hello as I was departing the area.

The next thing I remember was being briefly inside a house, and getting ready to leave via the front door. My original intent of finding my way home was still valid, so I wasn't quite there yet. Out the window, I saw my stepbrother Dan on the front porch. He was shaving his head into a mowhawk with a pair of dog clippers, and he had a big gang tattoo arcing across his upper back. That didn't bother me, as I figured he must have gotten it in jail sometime back. I got out a comb and started combing my own mohawked hair off to the side, and then I woke up just as I was about to open the door & go outside..



FEBRUARY 28, 2002:
This dream started with me driving my Rascal scooter around in some strange neighborhood, through buildings, and in & out of elevators. It didn't seem all that strange, except that I was driving the scooter backward a bit more than might be usual. (Maybe it was backing in & out of elevators?)

The next part that I remember places me in a small enclosed structure without windows, set up like a small flea market. Most of the items seemed to be sports collectibles and clothes worn by star athletes. I was rummaging through a "bargain barrel" and had pulled out some jackets and jerseys, most of them torn or stained. Then I went to a table with short bins or tubs on it. These tubs contained items like flattened basketballs, broken shafts & hosels off of golf clubs, golf club heads, dirty baseballs, worn-out baseball gloves, crumpled chunks of red foil or wrapping, and similar broken or well-used articles. I picked through a few items, but did not take any.

When I went up to a row of tables the seller had set up and went to pay for the stuff I got from the "bargain barrel", I noticed a pair of white pants with red & blue square patterns on them set out with several other pairs of pants. The patterned pants had a blue, handwritten price tag of $42 stapled to one of the legs. The butt was totally charred & burned away, as if somebody had taken a blowtorch to the pants. At that moment, I realised I was naked and that those were my pants, and I asked the guy what my pants were doing for sale on that table. The guy said they weren't my pants. I went and checked them. The burned areas were still warm and I insisted the pants were mine.
Then I woke up.

Strange dream, yes. But nothing I'd call a nightmare.





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