Showing posts with label Mrs. Campo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mrs. Campo. Show all posts

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Dreams

It's hard to remember my 1st dream.  Oh, yes, I thought my old choir director, Mrs. Campo, was murdered.  It was my fault, somehow, I guess because I'm indian.  So, I found her, and she was carrying me quite a lot with my hurt ankle.  It was interesting how I connected.  Before, Ellen DeGeneres was carrying me with my hurt ankle and I was thinking about being rubbed.  There was another dream where I was trying to **********.  My dad's youngest sister and little girl cousin, the aunt told me to be more comfortable in the bathroom.  When I went in the bathtub, I looked from behind the curtains and the light was on and she had come in then left.  The next dream, I was on a long long walking bridge, strong, like a dream.  I remember there were 3 boys, 1 maybe his name started with a Z.  1 was Tim Burton's son.  I talked to him, and he was really nice and cute.  He was small with dark hair.  I was with several adults.  I know Helena Bonham Carter was there, and she was taller than me by several inches and more rotund and healthy.  I got up thinking I wanted to put how her round, chubby daughter squaked as she picked her up.  After awhile, I said she was the most European person here and went up to her and maybe or probably started to put my arm around her.  I guess she was putting her arm around me and stuff for a long time, with my hurt ankle, which isn't really hurt now, and in different ways.  For some reason, I was thinking of old movies like Singing in the Rain or An American in Paris, which I thought of seeing Mary Poppins yesterday.  Eventually, she picked me up because of my ankle, for a long time.  I made a strong connection with her dad being all English and then with the rest of her race being Spanish and Jewish.  I'm not sure what was most memorable.  I guess my hurt ankle and seeing her as most European.  I did see maybe an all English blonde with slick hair, and I guess for some reason it didn't matter to me.  ***  So, I guess you can imagine how it was.  I don't remember all the details.  I guess I felt kinda knocked out a bit but nothing really bad, like I went in and wasn't afraid to process things.  Before, I think I felt a bit worn and unable to experience.  This time, I was kinda not fully developed, still.  When I was looking to see if she was murdered, it was very depressing and something I had to accept.  I was worried that it had to do with me not stopping it and causing it.  It was sorta a dark, trashy, more sharp slum area, more orangey and like with slits of other things.  The bridge was big, like an old dream, and weighted down, quite a lot, though it didn't seem to affect me as much as it could, like I was dead in a way partly.  It was a thick bridge.  We were sitting on the side.  There were like maybe 3 wires and a window with cement on the outside.  It was very strong, like a building or street, very thick, seemed so stable but uh-oh not really invincible.  So, Helena Bonham Carter was wearing a dress, which was maybe was like brownish with certain colors like orange or blue or green.  So, Helena Bonham Carter was saying "David" because her dad is all English a few times.  Also, I went in the bathroom to lock the door.  I can't even close my garage door because of a chord in the way.  I guess with the choir director we were down in a low area that was kinda yellowy-orangey-maybe gray.  I had told someone about a Cathedral that seemed good but not the best, you know 1 of 3.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Dream

I was standing in line to package some things, and there were about 3 people working, 1 my old choir director and organ teacher.  Someone filed to the other person knowing I wanted the teacher.  At the last moment, I addressed it, which was to her, maybe did it ... well, there were like a thick sorta bunched up package, a box, and maybe a blank more medium-big thick, white, rather plain envelope.  I think the tape was over the home address.  So, she left, had to, something to do with dying.