1-7-2b
Penn Hills Shopping Center, in front of the Post Office. A Dennis Quaid-like character and a bunch of (semi-)famous guys are buddies of mine. We hang out and talk and joke. But I have to leave to go somewhere, and so we sadly say goodbye. But the place I have to go is to a hotel, which turns out to be where they are going too. It's a place with an entrance not unlike the industrial park where we stayed at a Hampton Inn on Thanksgiving vacation. When I see Dennis there, inside on the second floor in a private dining hall, he says something like "I didn't know this was where you had to go." So we are united again, the group and I. A number of women have accompanied Dennis. One of them, a petite, but tall (i.e., thin and appearing petite; you know the type) young woman is very taken with me, and she lets me know it in no uncertain terms. She dotes on me and comes on to me. But I resist her, which takes all of my resolve, because I'm very attracted to her. My girlfriend, to whom I am dedicated, is nearby, which makes my resistance easier, and in any case I wouldn't cheat on her, ever. She's a young (but not as young as the other girl) black woman, slightly bigger than (i.e., as tall, but weighing more, but not fat) and not nearly as attractive as the other girl. I find myself wishing the other girl was my girlfriend. There is a guitar nearby, a hollow body electric model. It's mine, but I don't know how it got here. Apparently, the guys and I are a semi-famous music group. I am the lead guitarist and, in order to show me off, Dennis gives me the guitar. I take it and play riffs, just messing around. But this minor activity even further attracts the younger girl, as well as other girls in the room. I begin to show off a little bit, but without letting anyone realize I'm doing it. The attention I get is very satisfying to me, but I pretend I'm oblivious to it.

1-8-2a

1728, but not; more like some kind of a military center bldg: I am assigned to live in abandoned quarters on the 4th floor, by myself. (I am isolated, ostracized by the "command.") The floor is a mess. I make a place for myself in the southwest corner, organizing the area around a bed and walling it off from the junk with high metal cabinets.
Outside, at the south side of house/bldg., a hugely oversized F-16 circles above, pinpointing us for some important, beneficial reason, (not unlike, perhaps, an angel or a deity). After it has located what it was looking for (me?), it lands via hovering, like a Harrier. It has a crew of 3(?), one of them a woman(?). Everyone (there are a lot of people, men and women, service people) is happy to see it arrive. It delivers something (supplies? a message?) and leaves almost immediately. At the arrival, I see several women who work on floors nearby. One of them in particular I am very attracted to, a small woman. They walk into the building and up the stairs ahead of me. The girl I like is wearing a uniform-like short-skirt and she is making excuses to bend over to make sure I see her cute little rear-end and the panties between her legs. Her genital area is very soft, curved, and inviting. At the top of the stairs, in an uncharacteristic manner, I ask her out. She comes up to my place that evening.
Earlier (as an after thought in the dream), I (had) arranged to clean up the floor. (This is what I'd do with my house if I ever meet another woman I'm serious about.) I organized it and cleaned it completely. It looked great, and as a result of the organization, it takes on an operational function. During the organization I was helped by sympathetic elements, enlisted men and lower echelon officers who "admired" me for my independent, yet efficient stance against the "establishment." So, when I bring the girl here, she finds not a disheveled mess wherein I have been isolated, but an organized, advanced, "secret," operational center of which I am in informal charge (because I am the only one "assigned" here; everyone else is a volunteer, because they believe in the work.) I (we) take the girl (and other people new to the place) on a tour of the floor, but there are places that they are not allowed to go, for security reasons. (There is stuff in my house I would not want anyone to see, and in my computer.) Much of the equipment is computer oriented. The "work" is some kind of an advanced computer programming/"mind" investigation/exploration. At the north end of the floor, I am taken aside and consulted as to a "breakthrough" involving a CD. The information on the disk is crucial to our work, but it is in a delicate condition and the information on it is in danger of being lost. I start to work on it to get it transferred to a more stable medium. Near the south end of the floor, on a diagonal from my cubicle, an imminent scientist (Einstein?) helps us with the information, because what is on the disk is also in his mind. We work to get it transferred to a new disk.

1-13-2a

Schley Ct., Swissvale (my grandmother's home), but as if it is somewhere near McKeesport??: My family is getting ready to go to a wedding. As usual, I am involved only in a token way, i.e., I'm not particularly interested in going, in participating in the family activity.
Dad is driving (to the wedding?). But he's driving way too fast.[¥] I start shouting at him to slow down, and then I shout to stop the car. I'm very angry. He stops beside the road (a road near to Center Road, Monroeville, maybe in Boyce Park, but as if it were in a park in/near McKeesport ). I get out. Dianne gets out with me. Her role seems to be to quieten me and make me feel better. We walk down to Center Rd.(?) Off to the right in a field/woodsy area is an old stone bridge, about ten feet wide and thirty feet long that is being rebuilt by an historical society. It spans a gully. We walk over to it. Dianne crosses over it, despite its state of disrepair. I start to cross it, but a part of the roadbed is composed only of old rotten timbers. I step cautiously so as not to fall through if they break. And sure enough, one of them does break, and the rotten wood goes crashing down into the gully. If I had not been careful, it would have been me that was falling. I say something to Dianne about knowing that it wasn't safe. She has to get back across, which she does, carefully, but easily.

1-31-2c

1728, back bedroom, but as if it were at (an) atc (that doesn't exist): I'm trying to get a screening press to work. It seems to be out of sync with itself, the squeegee and flood bar not raising and dropping at the right times as it cycles. It's Joan's press, but someone else (Liz?) has been working on it. Joan returns and fixes it, relieving me of the burden.
Wilkinsburg, on the main drag, in a van, cruising: I'm sitting next to the open (sliding) side door. Liz is on my left. She's leaning across me, calling out the door to a girl she knows who's walking along the street. Her girlfriend is on Liz's other side. Liz leans fully over me, her small un-bra-ed breasts beneath her t-shirt pressing down on me as she talks to the girl. I am very turned on and yet very comfortable and appreciative that she treats me in such a callous, matter-of-fact way. (Or does she? Is she far more conscious than I, or even she, fully, realizes? fai: She apologizes for having turned me on. I say it doesn't matter. I have no problem with it if she doesn't. She's afraid that I might start to hit on her, but I assure her that that's not what I'm all about. It's a nice feeling, though, and I continue it after I'm awake. [I really liked her, and I wish I'd gotten to know her better, but I was way too preoccupied with work and stress at the time.]

2-3-2a

I'm walking through East Liberty, in a residential district north of Penn Circle, on a very wide street. I approach Rita, who is sitting outside a house, reading, or in some other way preoccupied. She sees me coming, and she sees that I see her see me. I look straight at her as I walk past, and she looks straight at me, but we don't otherwise acknowledge each other in any way. After I am past her, I think that she must be hurt that I never spoke to her, that I didn't think enough of our past to even have done that little thing. Then, I think that she might be thinking the same thing about me, or even that my thoughts on this might actually be hers, perceived psychically (empathetically.) [Most probably, the thought is my own: I am hurt that she doesn't think enough of our past to say hello to me. This is an agenda of mine. It's the Leo motive. I want attention. I want others to acknowledge me--first. I want to be catered to, chased after, proven to that she (anyone) is worthy of my attention and my time.] I continue on down to the western part of the circle. Some kids are there, and they know me. I am an ex-con, slightly famous karate expert. They ask me about karate, and I begin to show them some moves. I begin, casually, to train them. Then, I get into a match with a guy who is also an expert, a demonstration for them, which they enjoy. He is far better than I am, but I spar with him on his level, performing way about my real level, and without any of the back pain. I am agile and adept. We almost fly, like in the Kung Fu films. [When I awaken, I understand, for the first time, the stylistic approach to filming these movies. I'd always hated this unrealistic depiction, but now I realize that it's meant to be a perceptual device. It's the way the karate experts feel when they perform those high-kicking, high-jumping moves that I have never been able to perform adequately because of my back problems.] After the bout, I'm at the east end of the circle, which is a college campus [only in the dream]. I'm sitting with a bunch of students, one of whom is Wesley Snipes (to my right.) One of the girls to whom I am attracted, and who is attracted to me, begins to flirt with Wesley instead. Her girlfriends chide her, only partly because she is white and Wesley is black. They think she's being too forward, or something. I feel a little bit jealous, but at the same time, I have to recognize Wesley's ability to "contact" the girl, to make her feel something just by looking at her. I know that I could do this to her too, but I choose not to because, although she is desirable, I do not want to mislead her into thinking that we can succeed at a relationship. Wesley doesn't care. He'll pursue her without a thought for doing the "proper" thing. [I'd like to do this too. I used to do it all the time. I still do it, in a flirting manner, without intending to follow up. Wesley is my "dark side." Chris Rock says that we (men) should not worry about deceiving women because their entire behavior, from high heels to make them look taller, through make-up to change their appearance, to artificial hair, is a lie. They lie to us, so fuck them. This is why I am always looking for an unaffected woman, one who doesn't wear make-up or who is not overly concerned with her appearance, or appearance in general.] A woman makes an announcement, both over a loudspeaker and at the same time from an administration office, that due to a number of students in a class becoming sick, finals will be postponed for several days. Most of the kids are happy, but a few of us are upset. We begin to shout out our reasons in protest. Some of us have starting dates for jobs scheduled immediately after finals. Some of us want to get it over with as soon as possible. A number of other reasons are shouted out. Then, I shout out mine: I'm prepared and want to take the tests now, before my preparation wanes. Chaos is beginning to take over and rebellion threatens. The school administration relents and goes ahead with the testing, saying that the sick students can make up the tests, which I feel is right. That's the "normal" way to do it.

2-24-2a

Downtown: I visit Rita at old atc. She takes me over to a storage area, as if it were immediately adjacent to the building, as if it were a huge room off of it, or a building attached to it, or across the street, to the north, when (at the same time) it's a deep valley that's actually on the North Side. We enter the room/building/valley from the east ridge, walking down a long slope as if it were a very long flight of stairs with multiple landings. This "valley" is more like a canyon with four steep, nearly vertical walls, the only way into it being this entrance we are using. The east wall is covered with scrub trees almost all of the way down. The south wall is covered with these same trees only about a third of the way down. All of the rest of the place is used to store boxed product. Rita wants my opinion of this set-up. She needs my advice and is happy that I've come to visit so that she can get it. I tell her that the trees are dying. They're infected with some kind of a disease and will be dead before the end of the year. They have to be destroyed immediately, cut down and burned before the disease gets out of the valley and spreads to the healthy trees beyond it. She's concerned, and she takes the problem to Roger. I sit down with Roger at a table on the canyon floor, in the middle of a huge open area. He talks to me, at first in his usual roundabout way, about my employment. I'm having trouble understanding him, but eventually it begins to become clear that he's offering me a job, a better one than I had when I'd worked for the company before. I understand, when he says that he is registered with an employment agency and has several good offers pending, that it's his job that he wants me to take, or at least a job as some kind of a technical adviser. I want to tell him, yes, I'll take the offer, but I'm very hesitant. I don't want to recreate the same stress/anxiety situation that existed in my previous employment. He tells me that I can determine my own hours, that it can be part-time if I want. Still, I'm hesitant.
I go to the main building and see Steve, who also pitches the position. I express the same concerns to him. I go out into a customer service area that is on the third floor, next to the floor entrance (which is on the east, instead of the west where it really is). Karen Steffes is there. She's happy to see me, and I her. She tells me, indirectly at first, about how I am (have been) perceived over the years since I've been gone. I am some kind of a rebel-hero, and I've been immortalized in songs, and she begins to sing one of them, and from across the room, another girl, whom I do not know, joins in as she works. I listen appreciatively, trying to understand the words. I never do get the sense of the song, but I understand that it is flattering.

7-20-2e

M goes out to start her car to let it warm up before going to work. She's wearing a short dress, but I don't get to the window in time to see her getting out of her car. As she's walking back toward the house, I see that the dress is barely long enough to cover her butt. I'm praying for her to slow down and bend over. And she does, but my attention had been distracted and I missed it. I keep repeating the phrase "bend down again" in my mind. She bends again, and again, and each time just far enough so that I can't see anything important, but each time slightly more, until at last I see her bikini panties between her legs. She walks back out into the street, aware, without seeing me, that I am watching her, and she continues to bend over, as if she's picking stuff up off the ground. There's a guy with her, talking to her, and I'm a bit jealous of him. He's a big guy, hulky and young, and he follows her around like a puppy.
[I've never seen this guy before, but I will see him the next day with D, getting out her car, having driven it alone, then later in the car with D and her daughter. He might be the daughter's boyfriend, or I guess he could be dating D. You never know. Two days later, I'll see him driving T's car, alone, and walking into T's house. Maybe, the woman in the dream is D. It looked more like her ass than M's, but the "idea" of the woman was definitely M: starting her car, getting ready to leave for work; "feeling" like M; etc. But, maybe, she was, functionally, or psychically (in both senses) both women.]
The scene shifts to a first floor hallway in an office or school-like building with windows along one side extending from near the floor to the ceiling. M is outside the windows on a sort of wide concrete entranceway to the building, much closer to me now. She's fully aware now that I am watching her, i.e., she can see me. I am wearing only my underwear and my cock is erect and the head is extended half-out above the waistband. I walk along the row of windows to my left and use my right hand to fondle my cock. She's just too far away to be able to see any details or what I'm doing, but she's aware of it, by the bulge and by my motions. When I disappear behind a solid wall, I'm aware that earlier, bending over, she had been performing for me like I was just performing for her.

7-26-2a

1) I'm in bed with Rita, in an unknown place that resembles a dream I had a long time ago (in a motel room on a vacation with Rita) and also in the living room of an unknown apartment in several dreams I had a while ago. Carol O., whom I haven't dreamed about in a long, long time, gets into bed with us. Carol is still quite young. I'm very attracted to her and try to ignore Rita. At one point, I have my arms around both girls' shoulders as they snuggle up to me, but my real attention is on Carol. She kisses me, and then she has sex with me while Rita is in the bed. Maybe Rita realizes what we are doing, or maybe not.

2) I'm on Verona Rd., waiting for a bus, walking toward Eastwood, trying to make it to the next bus stop, and then the next as the bus doesn't come, hoping that when it does, it doesn't catch me too far between stops to run and catch it.¥

Cut to Poketa Rd, on the hill above the fire hall, walking down toward it. I notice the trees on either side of the road. It's mid-summer, yet the trees' leaves are barely developed, as if it's only spring. I wonder at this and think that they'll develop later in the summer.

7-27-2a

1) 6023, my bedroom: I'm trying to go to sleep, but I'm too hot. I turn on a fan. But then, after sleeping for a short while, I'm too cold, but when I try to turn off the fan, it won't stop. The plug is not plugged in; in fact, it's cut off and the end of the wire is frayed. Then, I see another plug. There are at least four wires coming out of the back of the fan. I unplug the second plug and the fan shuts off, but I notice there's another one running. I shut it off and try to go back to sleep, but pretty soon, I'm too hot. I turn the fan back on. Then a bug is buzzing me, keeping me from sleeping. After a few lame attempts to swat it, I look for the bug spray. I can't find it, so I go to the door and shout to my mother, asking her, or anyone in general, where the bug spray is, but no one answers me. Then, I find it. I lock the bedroom door again and start to spray along the cove of the wall and along the edge of the north window where I see bugs. The seal along the window edge is deteriorating, but it still looks intact. But when I go to spray the west window, I see that the seal has completely broken down and the window barely hangs in place, with lots of gaps letting in cold air. I think that I'll never be comfortable with the window in this condition. [Last night, before I fell asleep, a gnat was buzzing me and wouldn't leave me alone. I saw on tv a thing about sleep, how the body's temperature drops during deep sleep, but rises again to a near-waking level during REM sleep. When I half-awoke after the dream, I felt cold. I realized the fan was still on. I turned it on just before I fell asleep because I'd been too hot. I pulled the sheet up rather than turn off the fan, because I thought I'd get hot again. Before I fell asleep, I theorized that, during the spring and fall especially, or in the summer when the nights are cooler, I get hot and cold because I'm going in and out of a dreaming state.]

2) I'm on a road like Northern Pike, but as if it were just outside a small city and not in Monroeville. I have a portable electric guitar with me and, as I walk along among people, I begin to play and sing "Maybelline" like Chuck Berry, but without the motions. Some black guys see me and start to sing with me. We transition into soul music. We form a group with me singing lead. But I tell them that we should all take turns singing lead, and the lead singer should choose the song. Consequently, we end up singing mostly R&B. We only sing rock when it's my turn to choose. Thus, we are a very unique and versatile band. Our only accompaniment is my guitar, which I make sound like a whole band. (It's electronic and has rhythm and accompaniment functions on it.) Often, during the soul and R&B songs, we sing acappella.

This same group and I transition into rookie cops assigned to the city police force. We go into a large meeting hall to attend a kind of church meeting of a Christian fringe group, posing as would-be new members. Attractive young ladies approach us, enticing us to join their group. One big, but attractive girl approaches me, but I remain cold toward her. Then, a smaller girl approaches. Although I like her, I still remain somewhat aloof. I know what she's up to. She asks me what I do for a living. I tell her I'm a cop. Suddenly, she's no longer interested in me. I tell her I'm here to protect her from the threats the group has had. She didn't know anything about them and decides she and her girlfriend should leave.
It turns out that the meeting is a pretext to herd a lot of people into one place so that a group of mass murderers can kill them all at once. I get wind of the plot just before the mass execution is to take place, so I sneak off into a back room and make a call to headquarters, which dispatches troops. Meanwhile, when the killing is to start, I go into a back room and shoot a few people (men and women), and I get a high powered rifle from a woman I kill. I climb up onto the hillside above the hall and, from behind a ridge, I begin to pick off the murderers, one by one, changing my location after each shot to prevent them from zeroing in on me. After reinforcements arrive and it's all over, I am awarded a citation for uncovering the plot and preventing the murders.