Erasure

I dreamed about the weird bird like guy again last night. All I remember is a map of the United States and written on a chalkboard next to it, information about weird bird guy. And just as I was getting ready to focus in on the board and read it, the writing simply disappears! Like an eraser just swept across the board. And I actually heard someone say the word “erasure” as I woke up, startled.

Of course, no one in the real world said it. It was the bleed over between the dream world and ours. But my annoyance remains. Why make me aware of something if I’m not allowed enough information to do something?

Doubles

The dark headed girl who keeps popping up in my dreams was back. I was at her house, in a bedroom. There was a twin bed and a nightstand next to it. There was a window off to the side, but it looked like there were blackout curtains up. It was very dingy.

I’m standing on the other side of the bed trying to talk to the girl. She is very agitated. She is building a wall between the bed and the nightstand. Drywall and everything. I keep trying to get her to tell me what is going on, and she finally tells me that she is afraid of the Joker. I get a flash in my head of Heath Leger’s Joker and I’m a bit creeped out too. Then we hear a door close, and she starts freaking out and building the wall even faster. I realize that the wall she is building will block her off from the door.

I don’t know what is going on, but I have the feeling this is not going to go well. Either she is insane, or there is someone dressed up as the Joker causing trouble. In either case, I decide I’m not going to stick around, because I just know whatever happens I’m going to get blamed for it. So I leave.

Then I am at a mall, and there is a cinema attached at the back. They are running an independent film festival there, and I’ve just watched a movie about an Indian family. They make you clear out of the theater and then go back in between movies. I’m out in the lobby waiting to go back in. The family that was in the film comes out into the lobby. I’m wondering if maybe it was a documentary and I didn’t notice it when a guy grabs me by the arm and starts pulling me away.

“You don’t want to go to that movie. It’s awful,” he says.

I am pissed that he is dragging me by the arm and I shake him off. “How would you know? It’s a premiere.” I look at him and am taken a bit aback because he looks like my ex. The ex that died. I am a bit creeped out but fascinated so I don’t immediately walk away. Is it him reincarnated? I try to do the math in my head. This guy is really young, but I’m not sure it’s been long enough for him to be an adult in another lifetime. Is it a ghost?

Whoever it is, we are arguing. He is trying to get me to stay away from the cinema. As we are arguing, we run into a weird obnoxious red-headed guy who says to him “Hey did you bring that hot one for me?”

I tell the guy to fuck off and walk off over to a bar I see a couple of buildings down. Doppelganger ex is running after me. I sit down and order a drink and he sits next to me. I realize his shirt is unbuttoned. I think that is so gross. But at the same time he looks like my ex, and my ex was pretty hot, but he was never this in-your-face-hey-look-at-me hot.

He is still trying to convince me not to go back to the cinema. I get really pissed, and I tell him that Gareth Lloyd’s zombie movie is the next movie up after this one, and it’s the premier, and as soon as I finish my drink I am going back to the cinema and get into line. He is really upset. I keep telling him “No, I am going to go,” and he just gets more agitated the more I say no to him. I think, Now this is the guy I used to date.

Just a snippet. Another guy, at a party. There’s a weird energy vibe going on between us, but it’s not sexual. He is a very weird looking guy, with a long pointy nose. He reminds me of a giant bird the nose is so much like a beak. I am trying to figure out what it is about this guy and then suddenly I go into vision mode (I know vision mode within a dream–trippy). I see a globe and it spins around to show where I was born. A little comment bubble comes up with my name and birthdate. Yeah, so what? Then a little comment bubble comes up with the guy’s name and his birthdate. I don’t remember the guy’s name, but I remember the place was the same as where I was born and the birthday was the same day. So I think, that’s it. We were born on the same day in the same place so we share that energy. But then I think, But the birthdate wasn’t correct. It said the 11th and I was not born on the 11th.

And then I get the realization, oh it’s a twin. He’s not my twin, but he is a twin, so born same place, same day, of the same tribe? And as soon as I realize that, I think, Where’s his twin? And the globe spins around and shows me Australia.

And I think, Well, once again, I’m being given information and I don’t know what the hell to do with it. There’s a twin, who has a twin in Australia, and I don’t know who he is and I didn’t get a name for the person in Australia, and even if I did get the names, what the hell am I supposed to do?

And then I realize Heath Ledger was Australian. This is weird. Does this twin I’m being shown have something to do with “The Joker” from the first dream? And is The Joker the same Joker I saw in this dream? And if there is a connection, is this guy maybe the girl’s twin and she’s scared of him and trying to block the door to let him into her life?

My head hurts enough just trying to sort things out in my own relationships. Is the universe really asking me to play matchmaker now for others too?

Odd Combinations

I’m in a bungalow. I’m trying to pack to catch a flight. For some reason, Matt Smith is there too. There are people lined up outside the door to see him like they are at a con. I tell him that he had better tell them that he wouldn’t be making an appearance or they were going to be upset. He didn’t want to tell them, so I had to raise the window in the door and tell them that he wasn’t going to make an appearance.They were sad, but there wasn’t a riot. I go back to packing. Matt is just standing there staring at the unmade bed. I suggest that if it bothers him, he should make it. He just keeps standing there, hands on hips, staring at it.

At some point I leave and am driving in a car.

Then I am in a store. It’s a lot like the dollar store down from our house back when I was a teenager. I don’t even remember the name of the chain; it went out of business, but it had fabric and sewing goods, a pretty good collection. There are some women looking at fabric on large rolls like upholstery fabric but it is regular fabric for clothes. The woman who is waiting on them tries to tell them that the colors they are looking at, black and turquoise, just don’t go together.

I tell the women, “That’s silly. If you like the colors together, then you should buy them.”

The clerk gets really snooty with me. She is not happy that I contradicted her. I point to my shirt and cardigan. I say, “Look, I’ve got on a pink tee shirt and a lavender sweater. They aren’t the usual combo, but they look fine.”

I don’t remember the transition, but somehow I invoke my husband to back up my choice of colors. I don’t know how we got to it, but I guess the clerk said something snarky about him not being with me and I say “He’s thrown his back out. I carried him for so long, and now he’s carrying me, and it hurt his back. He’s resting it.”

Back to School

The kids are going back to school, but in my dream last night I was going back to school–as the teacher!

It started out I was in a high school classroom. I had a fairly large class of students, and I don’t know what subject I was teaching, but it involved numbers, and some sort of data analysis, because we all had highlighters and tables  and charts and there were sets of numbers projected up on the screen in front of the room. I’m walking down the side of the room, and I tell the students that we are going to meet in the media room to watch a movie. I’m picking up highlighters and notebooks and am trying to tidy up the room as they are leaving.

I hear a kid go “ewwww,” and I walk back to the back of the room. The kid says, “Someone peed on the floor,” but as I walk over to the puddle, it’s not really the color of urine, and it doesn’t smell like urine either. And–it seems to be fizzing.

I notice there is a chubby boy named Jack next to me holding a bottle of Mountain Dew, and I notice that it is dripping. “You’ve got a crack in the bottle,” I tell him, and point at the trail of pop on the floor.

“I’ll go get paper towels and mop it up,” he says, putting his hand under the bottle and running out of the room.

When he comes back to start mopping up the pop, I walk out into the hallway and the principal is waiting for me and draws me aside. Oddly enough, the principal is my current supervisor at work (even my boss in the dream time I guess), and he says sotto voce “We need to talk about Andrew.”

It turns out Andrew is a student who was in a previous class I taught and was suspended. He is back in school and re-enrolled in my class. The principal tells me, “There are concerns.”

“What kind of concerns?” I ask.

“That he will be repeating the same assignments.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I say. “He flunked out the first time, so he did the assignments but he failed them.” Does he really mean repeating the same mistakes that led to the suspension?

“But the worry is that he will be doing the same assignments.” It’s almost as if he could sense my question in my head and was trying to set me straight. Assignments, not mistakes.

I’m still not getting what he’s trying to say. If you flunk out, you repeat a grade. You keep doing it over until you manage to pass. Is he worried he’s going to try to cheat somehow?

“Well,” I say. “It’s the same class. I can’t change the class just for one kid. We have to meet the outcomes statements, so that means we have to do the required assignments. You know that. But he’s not going to be doing exactly the same thing because the class isn’t exactly the same. No two classes are exactly the same.  And I’ve been teaching a long time and have built up my knowledge base too so I’ll be able to challenge him. Other than that, I don’t know what else to say or what you want me to do. I’m not the one who sets up the students’ schedules. I deal with the kids you give me. It’s up to you whether he stays in the class or not. You’re the principal.”

He doesn’t seem happy at my reply, but I don’t know what else to tell him. What would be another option? Do an independent study? Put him in the alternative school?

He walks away, and I start down the hall and panic because I don’t know the hall. How can I not know where things are? I supposedly have been teaching here a long time.

A student sees that I’m freaking out and says “The American History room is down this hall and to the right.”

So I start down the hall, and I see Nan curled up asleep on the floor of the hallway up ahead on my left. I’m curious what the hell she is doing on the floor. Another teacher walks up and kneels down to shake her awake–and can’t seem to wake her. I’m freaking out. Is she dead? On the fourth shake, Nan wakes up and is really irritated that the teacher woke her up. I’m nearly where they are, and the teacher gets up and turns to me and says “She’s fine. Go on to your class. They’re waiting on you.”

So I go right at the turn and at the end of the hall, I see a huge curved entryway with glass doors. The glass doors are curved too, like the glass on a revolving door, but they are not revolving doors. They are fairly small doors, just big enough for a person to get through, and I am looking for one with a specific number (I think it was 402 or 420? I remember there was a 4 and 2 in it) and again a student has to point it out to me.

As I go through the door with my students, it opens into a huge auditorium. It must be like the Tardis, bigger on the inside, because students were going into the other doors but they did not end up in this auditorium (other dimensions, perhaps?). Anyway, I make my way down the aisle to where they have an old projector set up about halfway down (how old of a school is this? I think). There is a bench next to the projector for the projectionist, and I sit down on a chair next to the bench. I’m going to have to tell him when to start the film and pause it so I can comment on it.

Then I wake up.

Creepy Dream Imagery

I read online yesterday that supposedly if you meditated last night you would have a revelation of your future. Well, I didn’t get anything when I meditated, but I got some genuinely creepy imagery in a dream. Let’s hope it isn’t precognitive.

The only part of the dream I remember with clarity is the end. I am in a kind of post-apocalyptic junkyard filled with gutted cars. My cousin walks into view and motions me to follow her. There is a guy there with us. I get the sense that he is a military type, but he is not in military gear. We are walking alongside a board that is embedded in the ground, and as we start to come up on a building in the near distance, a flashing light and a siren go off. I’m inclined to run, but the guy says to keep walking like nothing is happening, and soon we are at a wall. We somehow manage to scale it (and I don’t remember scaling it) but we are walking along the top edge of the wall. There are people down below, but we seem to be invisible to them.

To get down,we ease ourselves onto a clear plastic canopy. Underneath it it looks like a public shower with pipes and nozzles. I am sick to my stomach. I say to the man “Is this where they gas the children?” I don’t know why I thought that; maybe it was a past life flash back or something. The guy looks at me weird and says “Don’t be ridiculous.” I get the feeling that he is lying to me. I say “Well, what do they do with all the children?”  Somehow I have the feeling that there are lots and lots of children, or there should be lots and lots of children, but there are no children anywhere to be seen. And that is creeping me out.

We manage to slide down the canopy but I am really creeped out and sick to my stomach. A lot of well dressed people are walking into the building and we blend in with them. I am separated from my cousin and the guy and end up in a very large chi-chi conference room. An old man is up front giving some kind of medical lecture. I sit down and half-listen; I am still worried about those outdoor showers and what is happening to the children when the man who is lecturing calls on me and calls me “Doctor.” That startles me. I’m a doctor? I don’t remember what he asked me, but I remember that he was suspicious of me, and I said something, and he sneered at me. It was like he was daring me to do or say something, knowing that I wouldn’t or couldn’t. I didn’t even know what was going on; what was I supposed to do. I felt really angry and helpless at that point.

Then I look out the door (I am seated in the back of the room on the far side of the door). In the hall is a table with a floral arrangement on it. It was too big to be a normal table arrangement, but not really big enough to be a funeral arrangement. Above it is an engraved sign saying Sterling Heights, which is a town in Michigan. I suppose that would explain the post-apocalyptic setting–Detroit for the cars, the water being shut off there for the pipes, but who knows about the rest.

The alarm goes off and wakes me up, and I have a sick feeling in my stomach like something horrible has happened. I have no memory of the dream at first; I have to really struggle to remember it, and these images are all I can remember. There was much, much more, I know it, but I can’t access it. And I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong with the children, but I don’t know what children and I don’t know what is wrong to begin with.