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It was my first night home for the Christmas break. I wish I could remember this dream better, as it seemed to be fairly eventful and reached new areas of strangeness. I think there is a contest having to do with a train or a railroad station or something of the like. It may be old western times. There are many people I know and celebrities participating in this contest. It seems that the participants are being eliminated quickly, but there is one of them who has yet to compete, and who I have great faith in. This of course is Sting, my favorite song writer. IRL, I read his memoir “Broken Music” over the summer. It influenced me greatly, and I have this connection to him. That connection was evident in the dream; though I’m not sure he acknowledged it. I cannot remember the outcome of this contest. But there are two other instances of this dream that I remember. One of them is me, in a hotel room, high above the ground, in a bright white room. I look out at the balcony. I think there is an ocean. That’s all I can really remember. The other is me receiving fellatio from this brunette girl who bears a resemblance to someone I met briefly about a year ago. Though all goes as it should, several times I think, it is strangely dissatisfying. I remember feeling rather pleased with the state of affairs, as was she, but I do not think I felt anything orgasmic or really significant, as I normally would in this situation. I can remember so clearly the pictures from these dreams, which only makes me long to remember the circumstances and sequences of events.

D, and J are with me. We were scoping out this crowed building full of mobsters. I think they called a meeting together, and we were sitting near the entrance. J started randomly hitting his panic button on his car. Over and over. One guy was getting pissed. I had something...like a mirror. I used it and flashed it in his eyes. He kept talking trash, and we all gave each other that look, and started rushing all of them at the same time. I went for the trash talker...he had to be about 6 foot six. I was hitting him with straights and elbows. Then the guy pulls out a 22. I backed off ducked around the corner, saw D disarm a guy with a .45 and point it at the other dude. We continued to wreck shop on these guys while backup came to handle the situation.

I came in another room where a kid was at, and I swear she had drugs on her. I frisked her, and she was clean. Someone else was watching me, and I told them "damnit I quit". I wasn't going to write up this long drawn out report about how we ended up in a gun fight without finding any drugs. My plans were to move to California and handle the rest of the case my own way, since I remember they said that was their main base of operation. I met up with the guy who was the girls father, and he was offering me these 12 packs of stimulants for the drive over there. I'm wondering where he came up with all of that crap, and I've never even seen most of the stuff there. Either they're banned, or just don't exist. Maybe this is our guy.....

Good morning, everybody.

The new designs for the Dream Views site are pretty cool!

Dream #1

A TV show. A missile had been launched over some part of America, possibly on the west coast. I saw what looked like some landforms in a huge river or else some chain of islands in very shallow water. I saw this from a couple thousand meters in the sky.

A man then discussed what he had seen. The man seemed to be in maybe his late thirties or early forties. He was pretty tall, kind of overweight, and kind of pale. He had wide, blue eyes, and a kind of long, walrus-like moustache. He wore a black t-shirt and a baseball cap.

The man had apparently worked at some point in his life as a missile expert. He began discussing some of the contrails he had seen coming out of the missile.

The man knew, from the contrails, what exact kind of chemicals were in them. The man listed the chemicals. From the chemicals, the man knew this missile was a Chinese nuclear missile. But the man was less concerned with the fact that the missile was nuclear than with the harm that could come from the contrails.

There was now a view, which the man had apparently prepared, of the missile rising up over the landscape I had previously seen.

The contrails were visually altered by the man, so that they now appeared blood red. The man had colored the contrails red so they would be easier to see. The man wanted people to see something very specific about the shape or the motion of the contrails.

Dream #2

I was in a record store. I was at the front end of the store, looking through some kind of bin attached to the wall. I was flipping through a bunch of CDs.

I found some CDs by the K-Pop rapper G-Dragon. There was some new album that I found by him. I wanted it. It may have had a price tag of $49.99 on it. I may have been holding some other CDs. I took the CD I wanted to the register, at the back of the store.

The man at the register sat down at a desk like a receptionist's desk. The top was higher than the cashier's actual desktop. The man pulled out a "for sale" copy of the CD I'd wanted. There was some price on it like $129.99. I thought that was a horrible price to pay for a CD.

I told the man that I probably didn't want the CD after all. I'd thought it was a lot cheaper. The man didn't seem to quite hear me. He was now opening up the CD case and fumbling through the contents of the CD. There were a few different sleeves, like from G-Dragon's old albums.

I thought that perhaps this CD was actually a collection of all of G-Dragon's albums. But I didn't think he'd actually made enough solo albums to justify a CD for $129.99. Then I realized that G-Dragon had actually made six solo albums. So $129.99 seemed like an okay price, even though I still didn't want the album.

I may have told the man that I'd go back to the front and get the album I'd seen and wanted -- the cheaper album. I then somehow got talking to the man about how I liked G-Dragon. I may then have discussed Big Bang, the band G-Dragon had been a part of.

Dream #3

I was walking down in a tunnel of a subway station. It was a long corridor between different platforms. It was wider than a lot of corridors -- almost as wide as a street and sidewalk.

I walked past a little rock band that seemed to be made up of middle aged men. The band was playing a song that sounded very familiar to me.

I was either the only one or one of the very few people walking down the corridor. But as the band stopped playing, a man and a woman may have walked past the band. They asked the band who had made the song they'd been singing. The band said Sting had made it.

But I suddenly recognized the tune from a L'Arc en Ciel song I liked a lot. In my dream, I mistakenly thought it came from the album SMILE. I had walked past the band. But now, realizing the tune, I turned around and ran back to the band.

The band seemed to be breaking apart, as if they were done with their performance. There seemed to be a couple of Latino guys and maybe an Asian guy, a black guy, and a white guy. I got their attention before they all walked away.

I asked them if the song they had been singing was by L'Arc en Ciel. One of the men told me no, that the song had been written by Sting.

I then told them I thought the song was a lot like a L'Arc en Ciel song on the album SMILE. I told them I would play them some of it from my phone. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began scrolling through what I thought was my list of albums.

But instead, I was getting nothing but a bunch of photographs of SUVs. There were green, red, beige, and steel-grey SUVs. I had nothing on my phone, apparently, but photos of SUVs.

I was kind of panicked, and I tried to tell the band members that I had completely forgotten how to pull up the songs on my phone. All I could do was pull up photos.

One of the men said something like, "That makes sense. You're down in the subway. You can't access sound. You can only access images."

I am standing outside my house, looking around at the area. There is a lot of construction work going on in the house, it looks like they are adding large areas on to the existing building. I figure my mother has some reason for all the remodeling, though I don't remember what that reason might be. Since there is so much construction going on in the house, I wander around outside for a bit. It's like I never had looked around out there before, I wonder how things can be so unfamiliar to me since we have lived there for quite a few years. (For some reason this doesn't trigger a reality check! >.<) I walk over to the edge of our property, but instead of the fence I normally find there, I find a grassy ridge that blocks my view of the land beyond. I climb up the ridge, which is about eight feet tall, it's a gentle slope so it is easy to climb. Once I'm at the top I am able to look down into a green tree-filled valley that looks nothing like the desert I actually live in. (Another missed dream sign…) I notice a trail that descends into the trees and I wonder why I've never followed that path before, I make a note to myself that I'm going to check it out when I have more time.

For now I turn around and head back to the house. I go inside the house and make my way around the workers to the far side of the house where my mother has her new room. It is looking quite nice, this area is clearly almost done, so I look outside to where I remember my mother is going to have a large rose garden. There is already a selection of roses growing out there, many of them are rather large bushes with many beautiful blooms on them.

I go out through sliding doors to take a closer look at the flowers, they smell wonderful, but they are also swarming with bees. I am keeping my distance, but then a brisk gust of wind actually blows several of the bees right at me. They respond as if the wind was my personal attack on them and sting, leaving behind their stingers and dropping to the ground dead. I go back in the house and close the door behind me. I see there are quite a few stingers still in my arm, so I try to pull one out. I end up squeezing the rest of the venom right into my arm, and it burns a bit. I remember that pulling bee stingers out like that isn't a good idea, so I take a tweezers to carefully remove the others. Each of the stingers is dripping with copious amounts of venom, there is also venom oozing out of my arm where I was stung, and all I can think of at the time is that I am sure glad I'm not allergic, or that much venom would most likely be fatal!