Dream Log: June 3, 2003

I return to a building that recurs in my dreams. Sometimes it is a library, sometimes an office, but the architecture is more or less consistent. A conference is being held.

People are in small groups in different rooms. Minutes are kept and published. I discover that my siblings are present for some reason .

It evolves that I am crawling throug a tight plaster-walled passage. I come to a glass box. It is a puzzle. One must be inside the box, which is sealed, while another manipulates sliding gears using controls on the outside in order to open a lock.

I enter the box, and, contorting to avoid the sliding gears, I am able to remain while the puzzle is solved.

Suddenly I am atop the box, while everyone else is inside. The box sits in a grassy field near the building. It begins to fill with water. Those inside will drown if I don't do something. I try to force it open, but cannot. There are zombies. A girl is walking by in the distance. Somehow it comes to me that she only speaks Japanese. I shout "tasukete!". She turns and starts running.

I am awoken by heat.

I fall asleep, slow, drifting, stoned drowsing. Warm and thick in my blankets.
I'm in the garage, my temporary living quarters. I hear T and Moli arguing over my head, faintly through my dazed dreamlike state, faraway filtering through walls to me. I drift off.
My sleeping mind: Moli opens the door and whispers my name, he steps in onto the carpet and informs me in his hopeful voice that T ordered him to go out; to leave their room. Told him to come sleep with me in her dictator way. (He blew up my air mattress earlier and she'd been joking about it) I unfurled from my warm blanket cave, made sure he had covers on his side, and proceeded to go back to sleep.
I opened my eyes in the night, a dream within a dream, my hair had grown enormous lengths. Moli and I were near melded together. Me spooning his back, my hair wrapped around everything, a safe protective blanket, undulating underwater like. The dryer going sounded it's heartbeat rhythym, and I could hear faint humming in the background, that murmured queerly, siren sounding fetus singing. I simply held Moli, and tried to comfort him, in this half asleep state, letting my hair cradle us both. Darkness of my eyelids, floating Quiddity.
It was vaguely sexual, Moli's a good looking man, but it was mostly maternal. Dark in the womb of the house, floating in my hair, hearing the heartbeat thrum of the dryer.