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.

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