a dream I had about a man and a woman near the end of their romance

I don’t know if it was a movie I was making or what, but it was about a man and a woman; black race, 20-or-30-something years old; in a monogamous romantic relationship. They were hanging-out all day together, on an extended date of sorts, going to different places. By the time evening came, all he wanted to do was go home or back to the hotel, whichever it was, to get some rest. She wasn’t tired though and wanted to continue on. There was no argument or anything like that. She said that it was okay for him to retire for the day. But he didn’t want her to go on without him, especially dressed up the way she was.

She was already a slender beauty, but that red dress, or whatever elegant garb it was she was wearing, made her look particularly stunning. She also had a gentle personality to match, which made it all the more difficult for him to walk away. He did eventually, but he didn’t go far. He stayed around, separated from her by several steps, as they strolled individually thru what seemed like a huge building; possibly the hotel they might’ve been staying in; passing people who danced at fancy balls, ate expensive food and engaged in casual conversations. He wanted to go but wanted her to want to go with him. She didn’t.

It seemed I played the role of the man, but I don’t know because it also seemed I was the one making; shooting and directing; the movie, if that’s what it was. It could’ve been a sort of dramatic TV show or even real life. I wouldn’t have been involved in a monogamous relationship though and I don’t think I would’ve felt as heartbroken as he felt about losing her, which is actually what was happening via metaphor. By getting tired and leaving, and there was a hint that this wasn’t the first time it happened, he may as well have been introducing her to another man. That’s what made that final separation scene so poignant.

2017 ( August 14 )

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a dream I had about being on a tower and trying to run home before being eaten by lions

I had no idea how I got up there. I just sort of awoke standing on top of what seemed to be some sort of huge water tower. I don’t know how tall it was, but it had to be at least a hundred feet in the air as I remember looking down to see various animals running around in the neighborhood. Most were small and harmless, like rabbits and squirrels, but there were also some full-grown lions scattered about. It was sort of scary being that high in the air; I’m generally afraid of heights in real life; and once I realized I’d be able to climb down via the legs of the tower, I wanted to do so immediately. It was those damn lions I was deathly afraid of. I remember thinking, if not saying aloud to myself, that they’d (probably) kill me if they noticed me.

That was the dilemma I was facing; stay up on the tower and hope someone notices me before I eventually fall asleep and possibly roll off the side over a hundred feet to my demise or climb down and risk being eaten alive by lions. It was a decision I might’ve pondered longer if the sun weren’t about to go down. It was late in the evening and night was about to fall, which meant the chance of me being seen by a helpful human in what seemed like a desolate area of the city was also falling; not to mention the fact that it would be harder to spot the lions in the dark night. So, after making sure I couldn’t see any lions near the tower I was mysteriously perched upon; the few I could see were running around, chasing small animals; I decided to climb down.

Whether to walk or run was another decision. Running would increase the chance of being chased if a lion were to spot me, but it would also get me to safety quicker. I decided to run. It was actually more a swift jog as I probably looked back several times to make sure there wasn’t a lion on my tail. I knew the neighorhood; I lived near; so I headed what seemed like northwest, across streets, past buildings and eventually houses. One house had what looked like a (white) pet tiger fenced in the front yard. The weirdest part of the dream though was the end, at which I thought to myself that I had to figure-out what date (year/month) it was in order to determine where I lived because I’d moved before and didn’t want to go to the wrong home.

2017 ( January 06 )

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a three-part dream I had involving police and black guys and a girl probably named Jenese

I was on a college campus among scattered groups of mostly black guys, all facing police officers on a street. There was at least one police car, probably two or three, and at least three officers, probably four or more, standing nearby. They were, or one of them was, yelling for us to go away. “Get away from here,” they may have phrased it, “I’m telling you for your own good; go home or you’re all going to jail.” It was probably an empty threat; it seemed unlikely for them to jail all of us for standing in silence; but the possibility of being taken to jail, or shot dead by a trigger-happy cop, did make me want to leave. I stayed though, with all the other protestors, as I assumed the police were waiting for backup officers to arrive.

I was riding on what seemed to be a high-speed Segway. I don’t know what city I was in, possibly Detroit, but it was in a state of anarchy. There were widespread riots happening by mostly young black males with no police anywhere to be found. Not that I was looking for any as I rolled up or down a relatively empty street, a two-way street, that was normally busy with traffic. Suddenly I saw a big black guy, imagine Kimbo Slice, coming on the opposite lane, riding a Segway of his own. He was holding a big black gun, probably some sort of assault rifle, in one hand. I feared he would shoot me, or at least rob me of my Segway, as I rolled by with a stupid smile on my face, but he just looked at me and saluted as we passed.

I was in a building for young football players, probably part of a university. It wasn’t for housing, at least not the floor I was on; it looked more like a place for them to turn in paper work, talk with psychologists and stuff like that. Whatever it was, I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, so I made myself invisible as I had the magical ability to do, by blending in with floors and furniture. At one point, I awoke on a couch to the sound of a girl jokingly telling me that it was “time” to give her a massage, or vice versa. It was a girl I knew; Jenese Harris, it looked like. We laughed as she got onto the couch or bed, where I briefly and inadvertently fondled her bare feet, before engaging in a friendly conversation.

2016 ( December 07 )

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