First Day on the Job

I was in a car with a guy, at first sitting very close to him holding hands in the truck as if we were dating. But then he said something I didn't like, so I moved over to the passenger seat. We drove approached a campus, which had lots of buildings with interesting architecture. I hand him the pass to get on campus. He had been there before, but it was my first time. The guard lets us through the gate and we drive to one of the buildings on the left. We take our equipment (in black suitcase-type boxes) and carry it upstairs. We stop in the first room. I take something from the box to begin cleaning the equipment. The person in the room takes the other piece of the equipment and hooks it up to their camera to do its work. I introduce myself to the person in the room as the new service tech. When we are done, I give the person the receipt and go to the next room through an adjoining door in the wall. This room is much smaller. A man of Middle Eastern descent is sitting on a small room talking on a cell phone. He sees me and acknowledges me by nodding his head. A person sitting in his chair to get a picture taken gets up and leaves the room. I put the black box down and open it, then turn to clean the equipment. He has the phone to his hear and uses one hand to hook up the other piece of the equipment to his camera. Then he gets off the phone and stands up to introduce himself. He hugs me and tells me his name is something that begins with an S. He says I could call him a more American-sounding name, but I try to pronounce his name twice in the correct way. The man sits back down. Then a younger man comes into the room asking about the receipts we give out. I could tell by S. reaction that this guy goes around begging. I had the feeling the young guy was trying to steal the equipment so I started to move in front of the box in case he tried to steal it.

Shooting/bazaar/party/reunion

I was at some sort of shooting range; there were tall towers that apparently launched clay pigeons or something of the sort. I met a friend from school there, but we didn't get to do any shooting, because he was going to start setting up for some sort of event. He's Persian in real life, and was apparently setting up a bazaar of sorts, I guess so he could sell things he'd imported--things like textiles. He was very excited about it.

As several of us were talking about it, he threw an arm around me and another friend. I really didn't like it, and squirmed and tried to move it, but he didn't notice. Finally, I shouted, "You are making me very uncomfortable and I don't like it! Please remove your arm!" Then he did, but I felt kind of bad that I'd had to be so overt.

Eventually, the bazaar turned into a party with a bunch of people, and we were in a big room. I was sleeping in a large bed in the corner of the room, and when I woke up, a woman was cuddling with me. At first I thought it was Demi Moore, but then I realized it was someone else's wife, though I could never quite place exactly who. She was beautiful and had extremely soft, smooth skin.

Then I was back at my high school, maybe for my sister's 10-year reunion (which will be in 2010). I went into the high school gym, only it was dark and tiny. Two sporting events were going on at opposite ends of the gym, and I saw a bunch of people I knew, including the English teacher for whom I worked all four years. She wanted a picture with me. There were actually lots of digital cameras in the dream; at one point I reached into my bag, and found not my camera, but two cameras belonging to other people.

Demon cats

She pointed out the moving things in a dark corner--something black and fluttery? At first, they seemed simply to be black moths. Then they were bigger: bats? Finally, they emerged in their final form as sleek, very thin black cats with bat wings and strange green eyes. They were not very big, but seemed vicious--likely because of their long, pointed teeth. There was an entire collection of them--six or seven. We contained them by binding them together in some way, and I tried to get good pictures of them using my digital camera. They kept moving, though, so I wasn't sure I'd captured them.

Somehow, the dog--like a small golden retriever at first, but later more like a terrier--was attached to them, whether because he had pursued them and his leash (red) had gotten tangled with their bonds, or because someone had connected him in an attempt to control the cats. Somehow, he ended up being dragged along behind them and getting roughed up--the skin on his sides was scratched and his fur was bloody. When they stopped, he lay perfectly and frighteningly still on the chair, and I was afraid he was dead. I noticed that his tail was sticking out rigidly over the edge of the chair, which I was afraid indicated rigor mortis. But when we got up closer, and touched him, he moved! He was definitely alive, and looked like he was going to make it.

There was lots more, which I wish I could remember. Unfortunately, all I have is vague snippets, including going to a church where the pastor was promising a million dollars to volunteers who could complete some task. I'm pretty sure that part was inspired by this YouTube video.

steve mcqueen?!

My subconscious is really making fun of me. Last night's dream was a combination choosing-clothes/ group-trip/ celebrity dream--again!

In part one, I was with my parents, sister, and grandmother on a visit to some distant relatives or friends-of-acquaintances, somewhere in Europe. We were supposed to be getting ready to go to some See-and-Be-Seen event, and this time my clothes options were actually pretty good, with some things I wouldn't mind having in real life (oh, and I also didn't have any pudginess issues in the dream). I hit a snag, though, when I got to the legwear. It was cold, and I wanted some opaque black tights to pull the whole thing together. I got out what I thought were black tights, and they turned out to be semi-transparent double-layered baggy purple nylons. I decided it was okay, though, because they looked Prada-ish.

In part two, I was on a mission-type trip to Morocco, and the leaders had assembled everyone for a morale-building session before going out for some sightseeing. They made everyone get in a circle and instructed us to all hold hands for several minutes. I found myself between an older, insipid woman and *Steve McQueen* (?!). He was gigantically tall, had huge hands, and seemed less than interested in the morale-building exercise. He did take my hand for a while, though, which I thought was great because then I could tell people, "Guess what? I've held hands with Steve McQueen!" There wasn't a great response to the hand-holding exercise, and it kind of fell apart when someone pointed out that Mr. McQueen's attire (a Moroccan shirt and shoes with jeans, acquired for him by his People) was likely to provoke the ire of the natives. Then someone pointed at that I was also wearing Moroccan shoes, although I thought it would okay, because they weren't as blatant (or as big!) as his. After that brouhaha had settled down, I discovered that I had bought a rare Japanese Lomo-ish camera for $3.99, and was really excited about it, but couldn't figure out how to use it.

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Huh. I just looked up Steve McQueen because I knew absolutely nothing about him, and it turns out that although he was "listed" as being 5'10", he may have been as short as 5'7". How disappointing. Take that as a lesson not to do research on people in your dreams.