Dream Journal 112515

There was a man lounging in a reclining chair and he was smoking a cigarette with both ends lit, no filter. Had one cherry in his mouth and was smoking on it like this was the normal way to use a cigarette. I took the cigarette from him, broke it in and threw it on the floor. He just grins at me and pulls out another cigarette which he smokes in the same manner.

Stunk and I were running from some one. Weaving through buildings that had lush back yards and oddly placed fences that neither provided privacy nor connected to close in the yard. We went into a LDS church. I went into a bathroom that looked more like one you would find in a hospital. And there were 2 toilets. Instead of stalls, there was a curtain that you drew between them. There was an old woman already on one toilet so I drew the curtain between us and went to the bathroom.

Then the Skunk and I were in another bathroom, still in the church. We were in muddy clothing and looked wan. Both of us were washing our hands. The wall that would separate the bathroom for the hallway didn’t exist. So we could see a group of adolescent girls poor out of a room. They were all girls that I had known while I was a kid and attending the youth group at the church. They approached us and one asked what we were doing. I looked puzzled and reported that we were watching our hands.

I was sitting in a class room and my head was shaved. I had a box of crackers and a stack of sliced cheddar cheese in front of me on the desk. I was sitting in one of the desks for the student and there were 3rd graders sitting all around me. They were eyeing my snack. The teacher was trying to get me to talk about Zen concepts, but I just sat there and ate my cheese and crackers. I pretended not to notice when the children starting taking some too. This upset the teacher, but she didn’t say anything.

I can recall weird details about the way the cheese was cut. Some slices were really thin while others were think. Some were straight and even while others were lopsided or lumpy. One kid made a point to grab only the thick slices that were cut lumpy.

The dream was broken fragments. Even while I was dreaming, there didn’t feel like there was a connecting thread between the different parts.


Posted on November 25, 2015, in Dream Journals and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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