Alex Peak


2009/02/06:  Co-workers in My Dreams

Also available in .txt.

In this dream, I inform certain co-workers—specifically Tom, Katie, and Erin—that they had all appeared in dreams of mine.

Tom scoffs at the idea of having appeared in one of my dreams.

I leave the Towson University post office during a slow period (a period with no actual work to do) and go to the library.  In this dream, it seems I have a blog, albeit a rather inactive one.  At the library, I take the opportunity to work on my blog.

Unfortunately, it seems I stay at the library too long, and I end up not returning to work before the the campus post office closes.

I have a book in my possession about Obama, and it is written from vaguely libertarian perspective.  The cover of the book has a seal made by Mr. Obama, which is to serve as the new Seal of the President of the United States.

I ask a library worker if she can photocopy the cover (or perhaps some of the content, but I think it’s the cover I wanted), to which I’m told that the photocopying would cost $95.  Thinking that was exorbitant, and wanting to make sure that the photocopy would be of a quality worth paying $95, I ask if I can see a photocopy before making a purchase.  They allow this, and when I see the photocopy, I find that it is extraordinarily small—too small for my purposes, and thus definitely not worth the cost.

I go back to my blog.  It seems I had started writing a book, the preface of which was complete.  Chapter one was still in progress.  I had believed that this content, despite being on my blog, was hidden from public viewing; but I learn that it was not, and that everything I had written, even drafts, were widely available.

I go to a store, where the food is waiting outside.  I and whomever I’m with pick up candy, probably chocolate.  But, are we getting this for a dog?  That doesn’t make sense, as dogs are not supposed to be allowed chocolate for health reasons.

I go to a rich party with my grandfather who—later in the dream—is my mother.  I sit at a computer along with other people who are also sitting at computers.  It feels like sitting at the slot machines of a casino, but it’s a computer.  This computer either has Limewire on it, or I’m downloading Limewire onto it without the consent of its owner.  My objective is to download music to which I wish to at that moment listen.  The guy to the right of me, perhaps the owner of this place, seems to be getting angry with me.  (I’m not surprised.)  I go outside to eat some ice cream.

Then I’m with [Vladimir] and others.  [Vladimir] has some sort of blueberry-flavoured soda, the can of which is leaking.  He’s in bed, leading me to believe he’s not feeling well.

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