(Night before, I asked if we come from different planets, before birth.)
The bathroom is in the hallway, and I see the door open. I walk over to use it. I see that Judy is on the toilet, straight in front of me. She doesn’t see me. I think it odd / strange that she would have / leave the door open.
After a bit, I then see two guys messing around in the shower (nude?). The tub is filled with water, the floor is flooded, all of the hall carpet is soaked.
There are other 20-somethings in the other room. They are all here to party with Judy. One girl, slouching back against the couch, has her breasts covered, but the rest of her is naked. I tell them all to leave, and for the girl to cover herself / put something on.
I then see them outside the window, lowering themselves, using a mountain climbers rope / equipment.
I see them again in another part of the house(?), where there are chairs, and a stage. There are a handful of people in the chairs, watching these people up on the stage, who are lined up, front to back, singing.
Still irritated by them, I walk to the right side side of the stage where the steps are. As I walk up, I am singing for them to leave / go away.
I am standing on a balcony, have a baby bottle (newborn?), filled with milk, and am dripping it on their heads. There is so much milk, that the ground / floor is covered with it. I see to my left, down below, a small boy / small guy, who has slipped and fallen, not moving. The others are walking around him.
I am then sitting on some steps. The cops have been called because of me. I think that they’ve got me now, and will have the connection / link between me and Ali.
They are not dressed in uniform. They are in a circle, talking with some other guys, discussing what to do.
Kyle has an open wound on the inside of his left leg, going from ankle, to halfway up. There is gauze covering it, but is coming off. He has had this wound for a while, waiting for it to close and heal.
He is standing in the kitchen, wanting to cook some food. He had gone where he thought the cupboards were, but nothing was there, only an old yellow wall.
(From Sept. 28, 2014)
(It is evening throughout these dreams, and all at the same place, basically. There were a bunch of small ones, so I picked the most memorable ones.)
I am somewhere with Amy. A church? I never see her, but know she is there. I went out to the parking lot when it was time to leave. She had already gone. I then noticed the parking lot is nearly empty, and I don’t see my car. I start to get scared, and want to start crying. It seems someone came, and walked me to another area, comforting me.
I am outside watching fireworks. There are buildings to my left, and right. I never look at them. In between them is a grassy area. The fireworks are by the building to my right. They were eye level, not up in the sky.
When I first looked at them, they were static / suspended, and I wished I could have taken a picture. They then started moving, after a second, or two. One of the huge ones turned into a man’s face. For some reason, I winked at it. He winked back.
I am in church, in the chapel, walking from front to back, looking for a place to sit. There weren’t benches, but individual seats, along with couches / sofas. I did see one white loveseat, with the curvy back, that was empty, but it was up close to the seats in front of it, so there was no leg room. I finally settled on a couch / chaise in the back, lying down, but with head up. Everyone was there to listen, and learn, but were doing their own thing(s).
On the couch to my left (the front of the room was to my right) was a man, wearing nice black clothes, writing letters to be sent to Paris (I saw Paris on an envelope). His writing was the distinguished 18th century type. I wondered if he was French.
As if reading my mind, he showed me his black attaché(?), speaking with a deep / thick French accent, to where I could only understand him now and then.
His attaché had an embossed picture on it of a nature scene, close up, as if you were there. This man explained that the artist had incorporated his name at the bottom, so people would know who the artist is / was.
After he speaks to me, I see a dog lying on me, resting. I am thinking it might have been a wolf. It is fluffy, and I am petting / stroking it. I ask it if it needs to go pee, since it had been resting there for a while. With slow, small movements, he shook his head no.
A young black girl, sitting in a chair, by a coffee table, at home, with her single mom, and younger brother. Her mom, with lots of long tiny braids, pinned up, is holding the brother, cleaning the table. The girl tells her mom that she’s funny.