I am in a house with Melissa. (I think it is ‘our’ house in the dream, though it doesn’t look at all like our real house). This house is smaller and simple, size-wise it seems like a two bed, one bath. I’m in the front yard/entryway right now and it too is simply landscaped and clean. There is a tiny, empty stone river bed between this property and the neighbor’s. I think I am in the yard now, and I have removed the sun from the sky. It is as simple as it sounds, and I simply hold it in the house, a sphere of no temperature, exactly the shape and color that it appears from Earth. Now, I’m back outside and with Stella and floating up into the sky. I’m high enough to … roof of the house when I will myself to go higher. I think this is the highest I’ve ever managed to go. I see Maggie down on the lawn. Back on the ground now, I return the sun to the overcast sky. I hold it … I retrieved it from and a soft magnetic pull takes it the rest of the way. I’m in what feels like a night club that is kind of out in the middle of nowhere. There’s a group of people waiting to go in. When we do go in, I notice how dingy the place is. The floors are sticky and all of the handwritten drinks on the walls sound unappealing. All I can think is that I have no desire to drink here and that this is not my idea of a fun time. There are also some booths here, where I sit with some unfamiliar people. One of the ladies humorously uses my middle name - Ryan James? We are going to order BBQ.
I’m with Melissa, in our house. I think we are about to go on a trip. I know it has been raining lately, and I’ve noticed a tiny crack in the ceiling that wasn’t always there. Now when I look again it is even longer and deeper. I show Melissa, and by the time she comes over it is bigger yet and the outlined portion looks unsteady. We watch as it slowly cracks more and the now giant chunk falls out of our ceiling and onto the couch. (The layout of the house feels similar but maybe arranged in the opposite direction - like the couch, and with even higher ceilings. It seems dim). Dumbstruck, I go over to it and look unbelievingly into the exposed attic. I touch the portion on the couch, as if I’m just going to put it back. It has a texture exactly like wet paint. I don’t know why it would be wet. I don’t know what to do or how much this is going to cost. I’m in what feels like a different state, at what looks like a BBQ food truck. I’m with some others who order first. I’ve barely had time to look when I’m up. I tell the man I’ll just have a combo plate and ask what his favorites are. He enthusiastically tells me, and I agree to them. Now, I’m reparking my car here. I go down a very small hill, which the spots surround. I back my car up, aiming between two parked cars. I do a really bad job and back into one of them because I haven’t straightened out enough. I don’t think there’s any damage, so I just fix it. I also end up making art for this guy (over a period of time) in exchange for food
I am in some neighborhood. The houses are similar looking, though each with their own personality, set a ways from each other, maybe a couple lots worth between each, though not rigidly so. They are mobile home size or smaller, all a little dilapidated. The roads seem to be dirt and the terrain is a slight hill. I don’t notice any trees. There is something about this whole scene that gives me an uneasy feeling. Now I am in one of these houses. I’m in its tiny living room, and I think there are only two other rooms off of this one. I think that I am or will be moving here? I’m getting deja vu from this space - something about it looks a lot like my childhood home and it recalls bad things that happened there.
I’m going to look at a house with Melissa. Walking up to it, it looks like it’s in the 3 bed, 2 bath range. It looks somewhat newer and very clean and visually appealing. It’s a good mix of earth tones with white. The landscaping is immaculate; I think to myself that I’d have to keep up on it. Inside now, we see the kitchen first. It isn’t huge but it is a good use of space. It’s in a corner, with the counter at a 45° angle, everything brown, light brown, and beige. There is a range on a section lower than the counter, something in a pan of boiling water. Upstairs now, we see the master bed. There is no door but a hallway to it instead. It is connected to the master bath, again with a hallway, [missing] and wider. The rooms are both airy and [missing] bedroom is also furnished and still … closet. I lay on the bed for a … into its plushness. There is another, smaller bedroom connected to this one. It’s narrow … and I think about making it the office/… this room too has a bunch of stuff in it … downstairs, we see a black SUV with 3-4 people inside pull up. They have also texted me that … is running late. It hits me how quickly this is moving and wonder if I’m ready for it. I also stir whatever is in the pan on the stove.
I am in what looks like the back or side yard of a nice house. There is a pool and Makayla is here. There is something going on here?, or about to, and I ask Makayla about me going to it. She sarcastically says ‘no’ (in more words) and, in a moment of low self-esteem, feel bad, thinking there is truth behind the joking and that I’m not wanted. More people have shown up now and are in the pool, filling it to what looks like it’s capacity. I’m in the pool too (I think we’re all in our street clothes) and notice a three piece band at the other end. The drums are in yet slightly above the water - it must be shallow? He starts playing a fast jazz groove, which I think is Take 5 (it sounds different than in reality). The other two I think are some combination of guitar, keyboards, and vocals.
I am in some unfamiliar house, I think with Melissa. It seems like it’s some time over the night and like we’re staying here by some last minute arrangement. I think there may be 1-2 others staying here as well. I’ve gotten up to use the bathroom and from the hallway I can actually see 1-2 (the house is very large and opulent). I think one of the others staying here, an unfamiliar girl, has just used one of them. I don’t go to one of these, but go to find another (I think the master bath). There’s a small opening in the wall with a fairly steep and slightly twisting incline. It’s narrow and mostly unassuming; when I get to the top of it, the giant bathroom is revealed to me. It is larger than my entire apartment, every amenity luxuriantly spread out. It is immaculate, light tile and soft lighting. There is a circular opening in one of the the walls; I slide through head first and am deposited into a swimming pool size bathtub. The water is silky and perfectly body temperature, dreamily blending into the walls. There is a picture window with a view of the city (the house seems very high up).
The earliest parts of the dream I can still remember involve going around a house at night so that I can listen to different pieces of music being played on various radios and other equipment. All the rooms are dark, and I think I’m trying to avoid being seen by somebody. There’s a deliberate quality to what I’m doing, like it’s some task I’ve got to complete. Then, walking through a large room, possibly some kind of storage space, I remember that I’m dreaming, and so I can just do what I want. I walk further. Up ahead are two large windows set at an angle. I can see scenes playing out on the other side – it alternates between a bird’s-eye view of a large herd of dinosaurs of various kinds that looks a little unrealistic and something else I can no longer remember. (This was circa 4-5 am, not long after I’d finally managed to fall asleep, which would explain the relatively fluid, early-dream quality to some of the imagery.) I decide I want to get a closer look at the dinosaurs, so I jump through the glass when they’re visible. I start somewhere above them and to one side, but flying seems unusually difficult. I just feel too exhausted for it and float down towards the ground. But once I land, there’s suddenly someone there – I think at first that he’s my father, but it’s immediately obvious that he isn’t – the thought was probably a lingering remnant of the nonlucid dream that preceded this one. I ask him who he is. He seems a little sad at the question and, in fact, never actually answers it – he only says something that implies my not knowing already indicates some unfortunate state of affairs. We fly together – it is much easier now, with him. He wants to head back into the building I originally came out of, which is quite tall, almost like an office building. I ‘recognize’ various rooms I see through the glass. Among our surroundings out here, though, I can now see a place that strikes me as familiar among the array of them surrounding us in a rather physics-defying way. It’s hard to describe my impression of it – it’s like I’m looking into a realm that is the night sky, filled with colorful ballooning shapes, a little like kites, which I know to be sentient beings. I have good memories of that place. It isn’t just familiar: it feels as if, in some way, I belong there. I’m reluctant to go back inside when it is once again right here in front of me. But I follow my companion back through the glass, somewhat higher up than the level I exited from. We walk through a close, dark space which I know to be a puppet theater and into the room beyond, at which point I awaken. 3.12.22
I think I am at Aly and Adam’s place (not at all what it really looks like). This place seems like it’s far away from any others. It’s a modest house with a modest but nice yard. It seems like this is a get together with the family. We pass through the house and into the yard (which is maybe the size of the warehouse at work or maybe a little bigger). After a moment, I notice that the yard is completely enclosed with a white tent structure that comes off the roof of the house at the one end and has its own wall at the other. It seems dark out but it’s fairly illuminated in here, with a subtle but cool effect. Cousin Jon is here; I give him a handshake and one armed hug. I think he lifts me off the ground a bit. I ask him how life has been. I think some people are kicking a soccer ball in here (it is all grass). I’m lying in bed with Melissa in a completely unfamiliar room (it somehow reminds me of my bedroom at Dad’s, though I think it looks nothing like it). We cuddle facing each other; I notice a large black and yellow frog slowly making its way up the wall. I know my gaze is fixed on it, but I try to make no intimation that anything is there. I get up to try to catch it. Zoe has sent an email that asks something like ‘Ryan? Is that lucid enough?’ It’s about how hot the store and warehouse get. I am going to research OSHA and other sources and put together a large reply. I’m at what feels like work (though it looks nothing like it). There are radial stone steps outside of the front doors and a man sitting on them. I think we are currently closed. I go out and sit by him. I tell him “thank you for filling in for Bill (Kreutzman).” (This guy is not Jay Lane, however). He seems appreciative, and I continue talking with him.
I’m in some house - I guess it is mine or mine and Melissa’s. Erika and Mason from work are here. It seems dim or dark out and they are on this large couch in what feels like a small living room or den. It also feels like it’s upstairs. They are both just on their phones. I notice another, unfamiliar girl on the floor, on her phone as well. She is wearing only a shirt and underwear. I realize that the three of them are going to be staying the night. I think of where I’m going to sleep and then remember I have a bedroom here. I think of offering to sleep on the couch, but it doesn’t make much sense. The couch is an L shape, and I go find something to put next to the ottoman to make a square sleeping space. Whatever I find is a good couple inches too short, but I think they can fill it in with blankets or something.
I’m in a large house on the ocean shore. It is Dad’s birthday, but Makayla and I jokingly run away from him when he shows up. He takes it personally and the look on his face says so. I’m going to try to find him a book here to make up for it. This room looks like a large foyer, books lining the top of every wall on a high shelf. They all look like Franklin Library or similar. Some are more ornate than I’ve ever seen. There are a couple of thick Dostoevskys, the binding looking like his portrait in stained glass. I think about getting these for myself. I know that Dad wants [a certain title] that has to do with maritime, so I search for it. I do find the title, but it’s combined in one volume with The Red and the Black by Stendhal. I open it to find it’s in a weird font that is pre highlighted, I think each character in a different color. I don’t like it. I find one more pre highlighted and spiral bound. Again, I don’t like it. Al shows up now and offers to help. Looking to the shelves, I tell her I’ve looked through every single title. She hands me a book on the old west as a recommendation. I flip through it and see some familiar figures in the illustrations/photographs, such as Judy Garland as Dorothy. Appreciative, I tell her I will take this one. Now, through a window or open door I see Dad walking along the beach with a beer bottle in hand and talking to himself. It is dark out. He’s sad about us abandoning him and, staggering and slurring, says he is going to see [someone]. I feel really bad about this. Now, Julia is here and it feels late at night. She says something and I say “these shrooms are starting to feel good” (I must’ve taken them a bit ago). I go into a room here, hers?, that has a nicely made bed with a fuzzy gray color theme. The rest of the room has the same aesthetic. *Melissa asked last night what I’m getting Dad for Father’s Day and I told her I didn’t know. She then brought up Carlos’ birthday. I commented on the Franklin Library copy of Ulysses I’m reading and grabbed a Franklin Library copy of Crime and Punishment at work. The things in brackets are specific details present in the dream that I’ve since forgotten.
I have showed up to some house for some appointment. The house is fairly large and very well kept. The natural lighting is soft and I don’t initially notice anyone else here. I then see a boy about my age in plain clothes who I assume works here. I tentatively ask if they’re still taking appointments today. He informally but not unkindly says yes and asks my name. I tell him and notice a few closed doors along this hallway that I assume must be the rooms for the appointments.
I’m with Jessica and Julia somewhere. A random man is bringing us to his house, I think for a party? I’m not sure how we found this man or vice versa, and I think there is a vague acceptance that this isn’t the safest thing to do. I think he is driving us there and we approach the place. The house is massive, on a huge stretch of land. We look at each other in awe. It’s dark out and the house is lit from the front and the ground, making it even more impressive. It looks more like the White House than an average house. Palatial is the best way to describe it; there is even a toroidal water feature in the front with a massive planter in the center. There are marble steps and the landscaping is immaculate. It also feels like we are fairly far away from anything else. Inside now, the place is completely empty. I think the man has also disappeared. I start exploring. Every room is impossibly clean, like a model. The floor plan is open, yet complex. It seems corners serve to divide space more than do walls. There are multiple floors and I keep ascending. There is one room with a tan couch against the wall and a small, old TV awkwardly in the corner. I imagine sitting on the couch and having to turn to see the TV. I notice that all of the TVs in this place are antiquated.
I am going to design a house for someone (for Kreg - for a class?) It starts with me not wanting to, but I then take interest in it. I start sketching a pool that’s pre-existing or being added to the yard while I talk to Kreg on the phone. It’s long and narrow, with some angular changes that seem to only be for aesthetic. This lot is also long and narrow - only 30 feet wide. I am now on the phone with Zoe and telling her this. I tell her that the average house is that wide, without including the setbacks. I get the idea that I’ll have to design this house long and tall. It may be in a mountainous setting, as I’m imagining it with a cabin look. I imagine the second floor protruding on the back side to cover a patio, possibly with a hot tub. Now it seems as if I’m actually at this house, pretty much how I’ve been envisioning it. I’m showing it to some unfamiliar guy about my age. It is pretty impressive, long and low, dim and with plenty of dark wood. I am at what seems like the GSR or something similar with Brittney. It is somewhat crowded, and masks are not a concept in this dream. I think we’re going to get a beer at one of the places here. The tap handles at the first place I’m not impressed with, so I suggest going to the other one across the way. There were three taps of domestic beer and then a bottle of what looked like a German beer but that I wasn’t sure about. At the place across the hallway space I notice at least two good taps - Revision and something else. I think we get drinks there, and now we’re taking them into a restaurant. The guy here questions our age, I guess because we’re bringing in alcohol?
I am in a house. It sort of feels like the 695 house and like there have been some renovations. Someone is showing us the new rooms/spaces. They are still empty. There are also some unfamiliar people here. One is a man who when I pass by once is briefly naked. I just see it out of the corner of my eye, not sure if he’s changing or what the scenario is
I’m in an unfamiliar house with my mother, showing her some pieces of music I’ve written using a playback program on a computer. As the dream goes on, the physical setting apparently vanishes in favor of the scores scrolling before my eyes. Unfortunately, I can no longer remember any of the music except for the clarinet part in one. The clarinet is holding a single note, and as several measures go by without it stopping, I make a mental note to modify the part as soon as we’re done listening. The computer may be able to play it back as written, but a clarinettist does actually have to take a breath at some point. -27.4.22
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