Strange dreams...

First I dreamed I was taking flying lessons. For my first lesson, I had to clean out and check over the teaching airplane. It was a small tan jet with a brown stripe, empty on the inside, and in the cleaning hangar there were several stacked up without wings. I scrubbed mine and checked it all out, then pushed it out the open door where it fell many feet to the ground and bounced. Somehow I got down to the ground too, and it had had its wings affixed. I saw it against a clear blue sky hanging by fishing line from another jet, blue and red this one. The instructor told me to get into the training jet. I climbed in and was zipped into a tight cover like a kayak has, then settled down into the seat. Rosa was snuggled next to me outside the covering. We took off and suddenly we were indoors rather than out, zooming around a huge room like a gymnasium which was full of beams and struts that I wove in and out of.

Then there was the parking garage with exit ramps like drawbridges: when it came your turn to exit the operator would lower the bridge so you could drive over it. The person I was with tried to exit at the wrong time and we nearly fell because the bridge went away just as we were driving over it.

There was something about sitting around a table drinking beer (a la Mama-san's in Japan: wow, that takes me back! I may have to write about Mama-san's sometime.)

Somewhere from there I ended up in a hotel with Ray. To get to our room we had to pass through a meeting room full of neo-nazis. Some of them were dressed in scarlet uniforms with black and white insignia that resembled the KKK symbol; others, the lower-ranking ones, were wearing khaki. We walked in front of the last row of men, as there was no other path through the room. One of them, a young man with dusty blond shoulder-length curls, reached out and thrust his hand between my legs. I was wearing either shorts or a skirt, I'm not sure which. I continued past for a few feet, then changed my mind and turned around. I strode up to him, poked him in the chest with a stiletto, and told him "Never do that again without permission." He looked frightened, nodded, and said nothing.

I continued through a pair of double doors to the room. Our bed was on a raised platform, curtained off from a hallway of sorts: there was another door on the other end. Two more neo-nazis in khaki came in the other door and passed out the ones I had come in.

( Warning, from here on it gets gruesome. )

About that time I woke up to Rosa suddenly saying "I don't want to give it back". I asked her if she had been dreaming, she said yes but didn't want to--or couldn't--tell me what she'd been dreaming about. She told me to "go downstairs." I got up and went to take a shower to wash some of that hideous dream out of my head. I used the green tea shower gel today because it's labeled "Soul Cleansing". I figured I needed that. Then I did in fact go downstairs and started to write morning pages--about these very dreams. She got up a few minutes later and came looking for me. Morning pages did not happen after all. Of course, I've been writing for a good half-hour now...