Dreams – 12/3

12/3/24 #1: I was driving on an expressway when I saw a police car on the left with blue lights. Traffic started to slow so I tried to move to the left but a black Mercedes cut me off then hit his brakes. No one was in the middle lane for some reason–then I saw the middle lane had pillars in it/construction and then traffic totally stopped and because of all the 19th century skyscrapers, I knew I was in Nashville. 12/3/24 #2: I was in what had to be a bedroom–all I could see was a bed 10-15 feet from me. There was a woman laying there face down on her knees in a pink tutu. She was looking at me–but I knew under the giant tutu, there was an assassin(criminal?) hiding under it waiting to ambush whoever came near. 12/3/24 #3: I was in a room with a bunch of naked male swimmers (though no one had genitalia). There was a barrel imbedded in the ground and a swimmer from the other team climbed in and immediately flipped over and people had to pull on his legs to get him right-side-up. Another guy climbed in and went upside down and banged his head on the rim. That’s when I realized the liquid was body waste and bacon grease but no one would help the guy and he couldn’t get right. I pulled on his leg and his leg just stretched and stretched. Eventually the guy was pulled clear and I let go and his leg returned to normal. That’s when I realized I saved the 1972-version of Mark Spitz.

12/3/23: I was with my wife and Kevin Woods(?) and they wanted me to teach them how to do role-playing games. The decision was to try superheroes/Champions so I went to get my game rules but when I got back there were six people wanting to play. I decided to find my Swashbuckler! rules but when I got back this time, there were 20 people. I knew we only had a couple hours and no one had characters so I thought about Cthulhu and realized 20 people was too many, so I tried to invent a game on the spot but everyone got angry at me except Julie and they all left. Then I realized that my room was all brown and the walls had wood paneling (like the basement in my mom’s house)

12/3/22: I was a tourist in downtown Moscow. I needed to catch a bus and saw several in a city square. There were long lines and police in yellow Polo shirts supervising. It was a tour group of Americans and you had to be registered with them if you wanted to visit the Kremlin. I didn’t want to register. I looked around and didn’t see many skyscrapers. I looked across the river at the rest of the city against a backdrop of mountains and there was a sudden mushroom cloud/geyser of an explosion but there was no sound or flash of light. Then there was a swept-wing silver bomber with red stars on it that flew overhead and banked away and I knew the Russians had dropped a bomb on themselves. I went into the nearby building and it was a video arcade. The games there were weird–things like horse racing but the players had to sit on actual saddles. Because of the bomb, I was assigned a hotel room to share with an American woman and all the walls were plexiglass and people could watch us in the room. She then said, “I bet you were cute as a boy.”

12/3/21: I was with someone else in an industrial area. We entered a door and stepped into a brightly lit “residence”. We had to go down to the bottom of the house and outside. When we went into the house it was all messy and battle-damaged and I realized I was unarmed. We found some stairs but they were cluttered and there was blood everywhere. The person with me said “I’m not going any further. I give up.” That’s when I remembered there’d actually been more than two of us at the start but I kept going. Around the corner were more stairs. At the bottom, I saw my lunch cooler. I opened it and there were three breakfast sausage patties (the circular ones) floating around in grape juice from a broken juicy-box. I kept going for a while then sat down, wondering if I was a clone and if this was all just some sort of experiment. I decided to keep going when I heard a single gunshot from the first set of stairs because I knew the other person committed suicide.