I was at a family gathering, and I was so sleepy I missed most of it. When I woke up I was in a room, which seemed to be in a huge mansion owned by nana. Closets were full of dozens of pairs of her slippers. As I looked among the clothes I chose a pair of her slippers to have and wear to remember her, when I have a baby. They were dark blue velvet slippers, and new, among many identical pairs in the closet.

I still felt so tired but was afraid I was missing everything.

I got up and tried to find something to wear. I found dresses I used to own in the 80s, which now seemed to belong to my mother. I found many clothes which in the dream reality I used to own. A beautiful and elaborate pale blue corset, looking more like a foundation garment than anything, a shirt laced together in the back which was made of a fabric printed with a glam shot of me in a small oval in a pattern down the front. In the dream I remembered someone gifting that to me. There were some new relatives, a lot of babies, too. One was a woman who was named nina, married to a black lawyer, who had just had her third at age 48. I found my mother and asked her what I missed, and she said nothing.

People were moving into the kitchen, the whole house and grounds was becoming a mall with fast food outlets set up all around the kitchen.

In this dream, I was at Burning Man. My friends were scattered around, but the festival was now inside a huge, enormous convention center. Our cell phones worked, so I could reach people when I wanted to find them. I spent my days wandering around...each day seemed to go by in an hour or so of dream-time.

One day, I found a mother with a five-year-old boy I started playing with and we had some adventures. Another day I discovered that a lot of attendees were having mini-garage sales.

Suddenly, my unconscious mind seemed to embroider on this theme of shopping at Burning Man and more and more booths seemed to appear, many of them carrying gorgeous sample sales and antique furniture which I knew somehow the booth-master would happily handle shipping to me free. I don't know how I knew this, but it was true!

So there I was in this shopping wonderland; vintage coats, gorgeous antiques, handcrafted ironwork, beautiful rich-hippie clothes, all priced reasonably. The futher out I walked the more stalls there seemed to be. A loudspeaker pealed out that it was the "burn" in a few hours, and booths were closing so I had to reach my friends and go back to my camp.

Strangely, as I made my way back I only wandered into more and more sections I had never imagined. A huge outdoor movie theater with velvet curtains and cinema seating. Another area seemed to be a Las-Vegas-style casino, larger than life, with dozens of normally dressed people. I wandered in what seemed to be the right direction and ended up in the hills above the festival. Every time I let my mind slip, I would drop the bag of gorgeous rich-hippie clothes I had already bought. I kept trying to remember not to drop it, somehow in my deluded sleeping state, I believed that I could keep these clothes into reality.

I had picked out a black-embroidered sheer white gypsy blouse and a couple of other things. As I walked around I kept seeing more great clothes. At one point, I just grabbed a vintage jacket without paying. Fuck it! It's a dream and I did believe that I would be putting these clothes into my closet when I woke up, so I guess I figured morality was flexible at the moment.

I ended up flagging down a ride in a car, though I was having a hard time keeping the driver's hands off me. Even with me in the back seat and her in the driver's seat. Well, Burning Man, I figured. Everyone gets wild here. I phoned up Hallie and was answered by some anonymous nerd on a kind of rigged system who said that she would call me back. I tried to call John but that was equally frustrating. We drove in hills above the festival and I could see steam above a huge forest, not smoke. Finally, I insisted we drive back to where I jumped into the car, since we weren't getting anywhere useful.

I got out and entered this enormous shopping mecca again, still searching for my camp when the dream ended. I was thinking to myself as I woke "maybe I SHOULD go to Burning Man again, the shopping is the perfect touch!".

I dreamed that I was in a huge house with many floors and many outside areas.

I had a boyfriend in the dream who seemed interested in controlling my movement.

I saw my sister coming in with big plates of pancakes and decided to make a break for it. I circumvented the traps and made my way to the kitchen and my mother; with a heroic, galloping stride, tumbling over various obstacles.

After awaking, I called my mom to tell her, and she was very happy because she has been in a wheelchair for a few months and is just now being able to walk again. She was making iced tea as we spoke. Pancakes have a lot of carbs for a diet-conscious, tiny little lady like my mother to be cooking up, but if she wanted to make pancakes, I bet she could handle it, and soon.

Here's a recurring dream I've had a lot. It involves being in one place, usually across the country, with my car, full of my possessions, and somehow only being there on a visit, with a plane ticket leaving the next day. The problem of - how to get my car and stuff home emerges, more slowly than one would think.

In this dream, it doesn't occur to me until late the night before I am due to fly home. It suddenly occurs to me and I start to make half-baked plans. Can I ship this stuff? Ok. So I start to pack. Uh oh. The car. What about the damn car? I can't ship the car.

I start waking up people who are sleeping in the house I am staying at, they seem to be mostly young punk rockers. I make a brilliant plan with one of them. Maybe he can drive my car out, don't they want to tour the west coast?

The stuff in my car seems random and even as I wake up, still trying to solve the problem, I am scolding myself for making such poor plans for this trip.

This is the story of a dream I had 10 years ago.  In my dream a meteor had struck the earth.  I was searching for my Dad in the aftermath.  When I finally found him, the shock wave from the impact was pushing me away.   He was scared out of his mind,  and frozen with fear.  I could see the reflection of the explosion in his eyes, glowing bright red.  In the end I couldn't reach him,  and I woke up in a cold sweat...??I wrote a song about that dream called 'Black Winter'.  You can listen to it at this link, or type my name in 'Google' along with the song title.
http://www.mp3.com.au/track.asp?id=141312

I was dreaming about being at a computer seminar, where for some reason they were giving away a number of sleek, encased laptop computers and other paraphernalia. For some reason, while everyone was in attendance and no one was looking, I managed to collect a fair number of computers.

To the chagrin of leaving my old one behind in the process of arranging and moving the new ones to a table, where they might not be recognized as the seminar let out, and as the seminar let out and there were people everywhere again going through and taking whatever wasn’t tied down, I realized that the device I was left with turned out to be one of those thermal paper word processors and at that point, I knew I was duped.

And so now that I had lost my computer that contained my hard drive and potentially all my data from a time when I was seeing a flight attendant among other long-winded memories, I was now faced with that loss and the thought of someone else looking down at the machine that due to a broken power supply, fried CPU, or perhaps even a broken hard drive, was frozen in time.

When I look back at the lesson I am supposed to be learning in this life that the dream is alluding to, I sense that it isn’t to horde empty technological vehicles, but to do with what you’ve created or better still if you haven’t done something by now, its time to kiss it goodbye. Maybe someone else can make use of what you seem unable.

It’s odd how the truth of a complicated relationship that really shouldn’t see the light of day, kind of like The Notebook, which made for an interesting read, but to have actually lived it as the story of the flight attendant revealed as a tragedy from start to finish and not something I should have been proud of anyway.

And to think that I knew a collector of typewriters, those hollow instruments that have absolutely no memory and can only serve to document truth if they are fed a sheet of paper, and even then it’s the paper we should cherish and perhaps not the memories.

I was offered a job at an ad agency. The first meeting consisted of a brief, fun meeting with two women who wanted to know what I did well, and then structured the job to fit me. There was a playground/test market center for children on site, and so I had contact with toddlers every day. The women handed me a packet of five logo shirts to wear at work. On first glance they seemed to be very normal looking, but when I unwrapped the package they all seemed very different sizes and strange looking - one was green with wide lace trim on the sleeves, several were too small, and when I went to put one on I got flustered and put on my jeans backwards.

i had won a makeover and went to collect at a big hotel. it soon became clear that there was a mystery. no makeover was forthcoming, that was certain. fortunately, i was befriended by several of the hotal employees who slipped me innocent-seeming flowers with notes attached which gave me clues to the mystery, all of which centered around the forbidden 21st floor. I managed to make it to the 21st floor though I missed out on finding the right area to shed light on the mystery. Knowing that I could always throw the hotel management on the defense by proving that they had no intention of EVER giving me the makeover, i felt well armed to deal with any challenges.

I sneaked up to the 21st floor, with a friend, though once there, I got very distracted by the filthy stoves there, with baked-on grease. I found a spray bottle of cleaner and decided that whether I was caught or not in my attempt to solve the mystery, it was worth it to just take a moment to clean up.