I dreamed I was at home in a place with a large and almost empty front room, with a central front door, wooden floor, and a central back door leading into another room. To the right of the back door, a white TV was attached to the wall, and it was turned on to a science fiction show, maybe from the 1960s.
There was a knock on the front door, so I hastened to turn off the TV, but it wouldn’t turn off–I couldn’t figure out how. There was another, louder knock, and the scary black uniforms barged right in. The person in front, a skinny and young blond woman with a clipboard, brusquely asked me a question. I was offended not only because of how they arrived, but they weren’t even slightly polite. As a hint, I said, “Hello,” twice, and when they didn’t take a hint, I rolled my eyes and answered the question.
There were several of these sinister black uniforms reminiscent of riot police, and they charged in and started searching.
I’m not sure if they left…I think this was after they left, although a man was to my right, in the corner, and he seemed like a customer (the space seemed kind of like a bar, maybe I just bought it). I suddenly charged toward that corner to again try turning off the TV, and as I was touching the knobs, it transformed into…. something like a brown metal parking meter. And behind it, against the wall where the TV had been, was a cigarette machine.
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I dreamed I was in another world, and there were a lot of other people around, and I think there was a rocky shoreline, like much of the Oregon Coast. There were lots of tall rocks, and people were around them. I wanted to climb at least one of them, and it felt like an important journey or mission. I don’t remember why it was important.
I approached this one tall rock that slanted away in a dramatic incline. There were men standing next to it and on it, seated on the edge with their legs dangling. I started climbing this rock, and it was very difficult, because it was sharply sloped and slick, and I didn’t have much to grab onto. I wasn’t using a bungee cord, just bare hands. The men standing and sitting were all companionable, chatting pleasantly. I was the only one who seemed to have urgent motivation.
Suddenly, while I was on the rock, it became extremely windy and rainy, and I couldn’t understand what people were saying over the roaring wind, and I was having trouble holding onto the rock. I was lying along the top and clinging to the high edge, so I had gotten all the way to the highest point, when the wind hit. At this point, I was aware that I was a young man, and a little boy was hanging from one of my hands while I clung to the rock with only one hand, and the wind was making me slip. The boy was either my son or my younger brother.