I remember parking my car and taking a “shuttle” bus to some place I worked. I remember riding past an older (1950s?) low brick building with a gold logo. I called it the “West Union.” The bus went around a large median, possibly part of a large roundabout with newly planted spring flowers and those white blooming trees. I thought about how I didn’t park THAT far away, the bus just had to go around the place in one direction.
I remember going under an underpass – maybe a skywalk between buildings.
I later remember walking toward the building the offices were in. I had to go through a small courtyard the offices faced – they were on the second floor. The courtyard was paved with brick, but it seemed to have been neglected for some years. Tree roots were pushing up in places and weeds were growing in others.
I remembered the other times I was in that building. In the dream, it was a place I used to work or worked more often that I was visiting for some other job. I knew where the elevators were and where each hallway went and even remember parking in a lot behind the building.
In waking life, I have never been to a campus that looked like that, but I’m guessing based on weather and flowers that it was in the north/northeast America and in an older part of some larger city. The buildings seemed to have been built only 2-3 stories due to zoning at the time and I don’t remember any skyscrapers near the campus. The parking and bus system reminded me of a larger city, though.
I remember random overlapping dreams.
One involved taking a class with some tough journalism teacher. She talked about influencing dreams, though, and told another student that she will dream of her most frightening teacher. I couldn’t think of a frightening teacher, so I asked her what I’d dream about. She said it would be her if I decide to take her class.
This overlapped with me cleaning up an old friend’s messy studio apartment.
The third, middle dream featured some nude guy and I thought it was awkward for him because he walked out of the studio apartment’s restroom into the class that was in session. He was in shape and appeared to have tanned skin. I didn’t recognize him, though.
I’ve been playing Uncharted, so part of the dream featured a too-bright and animated cliffs for my character to climb. Each level was a setting for a different dream and the cliff interface was a way to get from one to another.
I have been playing The Last of Us, so my dreams have become more vivid. However, I’m writing this days after the fact.
I remember being in a college auditorium. The guy next to me had written an Images of America book (a friend did this in waking life recently), but instead of a place, it was about a subset of people with some kind of power. I asked him to sign it. He said aloud what he was going to write, but I can’t remember what it was. He wrote it not only backward but to be read in a mirror. I thought that was AWESOME. I remember the pen was kinda leaky and smeared as he wrote.
I left to use the restroom, but could “remote view” the auditorium and the speaker. The speaker was an asshole, though, and called me out for leaving to use the restroom. He made it seem like I was a slacker and the guy I was sitting next to seemed embarrassed.
I started walking to my next class – it was an interesting set of one-story buildings I walked through. My schedule had the week’s schedule broken up into 1-1.5 hour classes. I was already late to the next class, so I skipped it to go get a form signed by a director of some engineering college.
The room was 1011 (even though it was on the first and only floor) and I remember looking at room numbers to navigate the space.
I got to the front desk and the director – an Indian guy – invited me back to his office and left. I had to go through other rooms that were being used for experiments. The students looked as if they were studying how blood absorbed into the carpet and had those yellow crime scene evidence markers by each stain. I had to hop over one and thought, “they shouldn’t be doing this in the doorway.”
I got to the director’s office and sat in a leather office chair. He walked around, worried because he failed some certification for his job twice. I asked him about his research about “Seeing without seeing” (which I meant that remote viewing I did). As he paced around with a weird clock object, he said the data wasn’t significant enough to do further research. I was disappointed.
I remember dreaming that I was staying someplace with my mom and she kept trying to wake me up to have me watch the breaking news about an earthquake. It wasn’t even that big of an earthquake. I remember seeing a news graphic drawing a line through just north of the Canadian border near Vancouver.
Note: This is censored more than normal to protect people’s privacy.
I remember watching a news segment way after the fact about an event on the campus I work at. The reporters interviewed a guy at a buyback/bookseller tent at the southwest corner of the park across the street and I got excited when I saw my office building behind he guy.
It was pouring rain and I remembered going to work that day laughing at the fact there was an event where people dressed in dresses and other clothing from the 1800s only to cover them up with modern jackets and coats, holding modern umbrellas. I kept expecting me to walk by in the shot, but they cut before that.
I remember being on campus after the rain and speaking with a character. I was showing off the campus, but it changed to a completely different campus and street. I pointed to an area that had dumpsters, construction equipment, and old things just thrown there for storage. Behind it was a stone wall because the land jutted up a story and there was a road above. It was a place people would go for secret conversations, drug deals, etc. because it’s usually ignored and partly hidden.
I told the character that the university had to add a tag to some library book sensors because new regulations. The tag said it contained radioactive materials. I partly thought it was a tactic to keep people from going there, but laughed because it was only 0.4 microsieverts per hour, so not as dangerous as they make it out to be. (Note: I think you get more exposure to ionizing radiation on a commercial flight.)
Later, we went looking for a computer in a library. I couldn’t understand why the character wanted to go there when my office building had a library that was nicer. (In waking life, there isn’t a library in my building.)
We got to a strange elevator and he got in and sent me a message through some dumbwaiter thing. One piece of paper was receipt paper showing results about something and another message was an explanation about how he had to take the job to be a MANTEE. I thought, “It’s just like the government to use an acronym for a position.” I pictured it to be something in “clean up” whatever that means, but it meant transferring to another part of the country. The message appeared to be something he felt guilty about, but I didn’t care. I didn’t have a reason to judge him.
One paper had a written date: 9/22 – I don’t remember the year.
My Facebook post sums it up:
“One of my dreams last night was about a friend betting I couldn’t create a religion and convince people to follow it. I created a nice, peaceful one using archetypes found among world religions and basic psychology. I posted it online and random people started following and teaching it. Then, my friend bet me I couldn’t convince the followers I made it up or even disprove the existence of the fake “god.” My friend won that bet. I have such weird dreams.”
I remember organizing a college organization that was going to be about discussing different religious beliefs. It was supposed to be open and free and interesting and include MANY faiths, but some lady ended up making it a southern baptist group and anything non-southern baptist was prohibited.
I was mad and spoke with a classmate about how this wasn’t the plan and we have to find a way to go back to the many faiths idea. Scott* from high school was there and I mentioned he’d help because he wasn’t religious and was somewhat insensitive. He wouldn’t be against trying to make it a many-faiths thing.
I can’t remember the rest of this dream.
* Name was changed
I remember being in masters classes and making some kind of mechanical thing with electrical charges and lights. I was able to make it look good and made it work the first time. I was the only one in the class who didn’t have trouble building it.
However, I flunked the assignment. The teacher was filling in for the original teacher and didn’t understand the building process. She was an English teacher with a Ph.D. and thought publishing articles in a scholarly journal was the highest achievement in life. I suck at writing essays and hate lit reviews and reading research about something that doesn’t lead directly to something practical. I wrote my paper similar to a news article and the teacher said I failed because I kept getting zeros on her rubric. One of the criteria was not to use certain words on a list I was never provided (the other students had the list from an English class they had last semester with her). I was given a chance to redo the assignment, but I was mad about it.
I even rebuilt the device – it had metal rods and I had to wind copper wire around the rods.
Part way through this, I remember talking to someone in a garage or maybe a hallway(?) and a family member quit her job and got a job at the family bakery. I remember realizing I was on vacation and haven’t checked the assignments for three classes. I tried to get my email on a smartphone designed similar to an old GameBoy – even with the dot matrix screen. Some virus got in it and I thought, “I’ll take care of it later.” However, it kept putting Russian porn model photos on the screen. This was while I was telling someone I couldn’t believe I didn’t keep up with my assignments and he said, “It’s not illegal [to miss assignments].” I said, “I sometimes rather do something illegal than stress about getting these assignments done.”
I wondered why I took on a full class load AND still worked 40 hours a week. I thought about quitting and working at the bakery, which would be less stress. The owner was my father-in-law (I’m not married in waking life). I decided against it because I knew it wouldn’t pay enough.
I remember a scene where I was looking through an old book. The bottom of the pages were falling apart and reminded me of dead leaves.