Sleep, but Never Rest

I remember three parts…

The first part took place on the third floor of a cruise liner. I don’t remember the plot, but my family and my half-sister was there. I had been there before and remember trying to remember the room number.

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Later, I remember my dad driving me out to some house and property he bought. There was three days before he officially owned it. The back yard had gravel and looked like a small parking lot. My dad wanted to keep it gravel, but when we got out there, they had just paved it in black top. I asked him why they’d do that.

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I remember leaving late for class - German class, I think - and I remember having a 20-min. commute.

It was a gloomy day and I remember trying to fix my clock and change the radio station, etc. by pressing different buttons in my car.

I was so preoccupied with that, I almost ran a light in front of a cop. Later, I missed my exit and ended up driving toward a park with a decorative iron railing on the right.

I knew if I turned left, I could find my way back to SR 161, but missed that, too. I followed some cars to see where the road went, but it dead ended into a walking trail. I turned around and saw a baby tiger or lion. I parked and got out with my camera.

I got some photos of the baby lion, but it walked away. I pet it like a house cat and it started to roar like an adult lion. It didn’t try to bite me, it just continued walking away slowly. It turned into a baby tiger.

I looked to my right and coming up the trail were two adult tigers. So I left it alone and walked to my car.

I don’t know why, but I threw some headphones (nice ones) across the way and it landed on the other side of the road. I picked them up and brought them back to my van.

When I got to my van, I saw policemen searching through it and one even looked at papers and balled them up and threw them in a bag. I told them they had no right to search my vehicle without my consent. They laughed at me and later got in and drove it away.

I walked to the police station nearby and stood in line to speak with someone there about it.

The three people in front of me were led into glass offices.

One of the office associates came back to help me. It was a dark-skinned lady with a short beard.

She gave me the amount of  the fees/charges - over $300 for just one. I don’t even remember what the charge was. She would then get part way through looking it up and help others. Finally, a hot guy without a shirt came in and helped look up the rest of the information for me. He handed me two drug-test pee cups that had plastic bags around them and didn’t tell me to use them. He gave me the rest of the information and asked me about Columbus this time a year.

I remember later joking about how everyone is so big into the Buckeyes. I remember also talking about how even on top of these charges, it will cost $109 to get my car out of impound.

While this was going on, one of the associates pointed out the dark tornado cloud forming outside. I didn’t hear any sirens, so I didn’t care. I was explaining that I should not have to pay any of the charges because the cops should have never searched my car.

I ended the dream thinking I could speak with local news places so this doesn’t happen with other people. I said, “Yeah, you should never piss off a journalist.”

I remember being in a room at some sort of government agency.

I had slightly shorter hair, styled, with a little more volume. It was dyed slightly lighter with subtle highlights. I was wearing make up. I was dressed in a white button-up shirt with a knee-length black skirt, dark pantyhose, and black high heals.

I was dressed up because I would be interviewed in court and on TV.

I was normally respected in the agency, but recently was suspected of something bad (I don’t remember what it was, but I remember being confident I would not face jail time or be fired because I was innocent). Although I was good at my job, several colleagues were mad at me because of a decision I made during a project.

I walked around the room - it was similar to a newspaper office were it was open, a conference table in the middle and a couple of desks with computers lining the walls. There was a computer lab for training and a conference room next to it. We were at least on a second floor, maybe higher.

I remember anxiously pacing the room looking into the training lab full of people and the meeting happening in the conference room. The white blinds were partly drawn and coworkers glared at me every once in a while through them as if they were talking about what to do with me.

I was full of energy and bored so I started to sing random songs like “Frere Jacque” and “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall”. Once I got down to 96, I thought I would restart the song and sing it in German.

That’s when the meeting ended and people left the conference room to talk to me.

The next thing I remember is sitting on a stool outside the building at night and I was being prepped for a TV news interview. There was a camera on a tripod, a camera man, a sound guy with headphones and a boom mic, a reporter, and portable lights.

They put a mic on me and started doing mic checks. There was an airport nearby and I could see the silhouettes of planes landing, lit from behind by the city lights reflecting orange off of the clouds. Others were flying so close to us, it seemed as if they were about to crash.

The planes were loud and it was a busy and large airport with a plane landing and taking off every 30-60 seconds.

I asked them if they’d be able to hear me over all the planes.

Just then, we heard a very loud plane. I looked toward the noise and saw a large passenger plane come in from the right and crash into the building I was just in on the left. The building and plane exploded on impact.

The camera man picked up the camera and started shooting the damage.

I called 911, but I don’t remember what I said. After I gave them the location and what happened, I hung up and started getting into my camera app on my phone.

That’s when another plane came over the hill and seemed to react to the burning wreckage and tilted left to avoid it, but the plane’s left wing hit the ground and was torn off, causing the plane to roll left and over the cliff that the building was located on. A large plume of fire and black smoke came up into view when the plane exploded. I ran (in heels) to the edge of the cliff and started taking pictures. I went over and took photos of the building fire.

Then, ANOTHER plan came over the hill and reacted the same way, but tilted right and got the right wing taken off when it hit the ground. The plane rolled upside down and exploded on impact when it also hit the building.

Later, people were consoling others saying they died instantly and it was their time to go. My coworkers in my dream kept joking that I attract disaster and that no wonder I was in photojournalism.

Went back to sleep for two hours with 10TV news on talking about the ice storm.

I remember being a journalist interviewing a psychologist that talked about a rare mental disorder that causes hallucinations and changes in perception. Some symptoms were sleep walking, going into trances where they would write symbols - often english letters - and draw on surfaces that they normally wouldn’t. Sometimes the drawings were really good.

One of the top symptoms was that the person would wake up to find it would put both hands on a surface then dig all their fingers in and scratch down to the left. The psychologist had a framed poster ad for the awareness group that looked like two hand prints with smears from the fingers going down to the left. It was a great ad.

She showed me a wall of someone who had the disorder. The man didn’t remember making the markings, but one of his walls in his bedroom had deep scratches into the drywall. There were the down and to the left scratches, but also letters. I was trying to see if they made sense at all. He had also drawn sci-fi images on the wall of mostly aliens - several with just one eye and most were at the controls of a spaceship. All of them were drawn as if they were looking at you.

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After that, I was somehow outside in deep snow, bending low to stay out of news cameras. I was wearing a 10TV coat and two reporters were outside near each other reporting about the weather.

One male reporter held me down by placing his hand on my face, keeping me from standing. It wasn’t violent, it was more of “wait for a second while I finish this one scene” gesture.

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There was also a part of a newscast i was watching on TV where they were doing handwriting analysis. They encouraged changing your handwriting to obtain personality qualities. I was talking to the TV saying it totally works if you believe it will. But then they tried to say only guys use capital letters. I argued with the TV saying, “No! Government/Census workers or any one needing to write in caps for work write in caps out of habit!”

The dream I remember most from last night was actually the last one I had this morning. I guess what they say about the more REM cycles you have, the more likely you are to remember your dreams.

So I remember working with people in a large studio and a coworker from CSCC was teaching some new people how to shoot certain scenes like an interview. They had a crowd of extras (really good, too) in auditorium seating.

I remember later as the people were being taught what shots to get and how to edit a scene from a presidential election, I was thinking, “Ready 1, take 1, ready 2, take 2, camera 3, get a wide shot, ready 3, take 3, camera 4, follow him through the crowd giving handshakes….” as the scenes were coming up.

Later, I was filming a story about what some people are doing during the presidential election and their views. I was not writing the story, just filming and maybe editing it later.

For some reason, we were filming a female African American janitor of a prison. I got B-roll of her mopping the floor and cleaning and her talking with another female janitor. They were both grandmothers.

I randomly turned on my camera at times to capture the great quotes they kept saying to help the writer. I was worried that people thought I couldn’t shoot because of the way I was wanting to get audio of the quotes during the times before we started shooting B-roll to use over B-roll and all the bad footage would be cut out. However, if someone else was editing and had a different style, they would see the first 10 seconds and call the whole thing crap.

The one janitor we focused on invited us back to her children’s family’s duplex in a bad part of town. It was a nice area for such a bad neighborhood. They said since it was so warm out, they brought their TV out onto the front lawn and set up some lawn chairs and all ate dinner as they watched some old TV series instead of the election.

As I was filming them, their neighbor, who honestly looked F-ed up on crack came out with her son. She told me to stop filming her property. I looked at her confusedly. They went back in and carried out a dead body and she yelled, “This is what happened to the last one [photographer] who took pictures of my property!!” she threw the body and it rolled down the small hill to the chain-linked fence.

She was incredibly stupid because I got it on film.

I was across the street on another hill filming all this and sitting on a bench next to the writer, who I think was Sean. After a few seconds, I got up and marched over to the fence yelling, “I have the right to film here! I cannot film inside your home, but I can film the outside of this duplex from across the street!! That’s public property! You can’t stop me!”

Last night, I dreamt that Nonofo returned and was working to get hired on as the multimedia editor at the Lantern. I tried helping her out by getting her a form and putting in a good word for her.

For some reason her mom was angry she went back to Ohio and I stood up for her saying that she’s doing great things and that she should be happy to see her daughter be so successful.

I went to get the application form, but it was changed. Everyone but the Editor-in-Chief got paid the same. I thought that wasn’t fair because one of the assistant editors didn’t have a lot of responsibilities and was going to get paid the same as Nono who was going to be working her ass off.

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Other than that, I had a nightmare about aliens. Nightmares usually mean the following day will be awesome in some way.