I just dreamt Obama took me on a date to his favourite restaurant. Once you entered there were four old venetian pressed glass doors to choose from. Each door had a word printed on it which gave indication to what sort of food would be served on the other side. He said we were going through door four. We entered, somehow traveled downwards, landed, and had to travel down yet again. We entered a vaulted room, a beautiful room with wood wainscoting and tiles reminiscent of the Oyster Bar in Grand Central except it was smaller and more intimate. The table before us was round and no bigger than a plate. They brought an appetizer which I began to eat when suddenly I needed to excuse myself to the bathroom. I left, fell down some stairs, got In a fight with a woman who imagined I was messing with her husband ( I wasn't messing with him, she just caught him adjusting my bra strap after I'd asked him too), and I realized that I had gotten some weird stain on my dress, the dress Obama had bought me for my date. I got lost on the way back too and when I finally returned to the table he had gone. I left the restaurant and Obama was there just outside surrounded by a bunch of well wishers. I waited until he saw me and the crowd dispersed. He came over, kissed me - he smelled of cigarettes- told me he would see me soon and that the chandelier over our table he had purchased for me and was mine to keep. He left in a flurry of CIA, bulletproof, shiny car hysteria.
Extraction: I'm in love with a man that on the day of this dream had a moment where he left me feeling like I'd been run over by a flurry of CIA, bulletproof, shiny cars with a sandstorm of hysteria. Snakes & Ladders, remember that game? Well I slid down (backwards) a flight of stairs now having to get back to where I was. That man who adjusted my bra strap? An inconsequential person I shouldn't even have to be talking about. The weird stain on the dress my wonderful date gave me? That was probably the bile he regurgitated into my ear ruining the pretty stuff I was holding. Four doors? There are always choices to be had. Why so far down? That's what I am wondering. What do people fear so much about love? The Oyster Bar? A place in the middle of hysteria that is calm, peaceful, beautiful and quiet. That plate sized table? We don't know enough about each other yet.
The crowd dispersing, you coming to me and the gifted chandelier? That's you. The man that travels around in trains, planes, automobiles, bikes, even borrowing the shoes off of others if he needs to walk. Giving me huge things which I can't manage on my own.
The first dream I had this night involved Oprah. She was a bitch! She followed me around harassing me endlessly. I went to apply for a job at her agency and when I inquired if there were any job openings the secretary began to give me info, handed me an application, when I noticed she was looking at something over my shoulder. I turned quickly and it was Oprah making frantic hand signals to the secretary to get me out of there. As I was leaving I walked passed Oprah and said: we don't even know each other! The next thing I know, I am about to do something else (like get on a plane) and Oprah stops me to tell me so and so is dead (so and so sleeps below me on a bunk bed). So and so also has Down Syndrome. I rush home to see about so and so and there she is on the floor next to her lower bunk, surrounded by candles, laid out for a wake. That's when I notice she is not dead! I yank on her ankle and demand to know what is going on. She tells me Oprah told her to do it as a joke on me. I am angry, I march out looking for Oprah, find her, and tell her she is a bitch. Oprah has never been told this before, so she knocks it off.
Extraction: This dream is just more of the same only now he is a bitch disguised as Oprah. Trying to get me to believe stuff that isn't even true and trying to disrupt my life when I tell him one solution to our problems is developing a routine.
Extraction: I'm in love with a man that on the day of this dream had a moment where he left me feeling like I'd been run over by a flurry of CIA, bulletproof, shiny cars with a sandstorm of hysteria. Snakes & Ladders, remember that game? Well I slid down (backwards) a flight of stairs now having to get back to where I was. That man who adjusted my bra strap? An inconsequential person I shouldn't even have to be talking about. The weird stain on the dress my wonderful date gave me? That was probably the bile he regurgitated into my ear ruining the pretty stuff I was holding. Four doors? There are always choices to be had. Why so far down? That's what I am wondering. What do people fear so much about love? The Oyster Bar? A place in the middle of hysteria that is calm, peaceful, beautiful and quiet. That plate sized table? We don't know enough about each other yet.
The crowd dispersing, you coming to me and the gifted chandelier? That's you. The man that travels around in trains, planes, automobiles, bikes, even borrowing the shoes off of others if he needs to walk. Giving me huge things which I can't manage on my own.
The first dream I had this night involved Oprah. She was a bitch! She followed me around harassing me endlessly. I went to apply for a job at her agency and when I inquired if there were any job openings the secretary began to give me info, handed me an application, when I noticed she was looking at something over my shoulder. I turned quickly and it was Oprah making frantic hand signals to the secretary to get me out of there. As I was leaving I walked passed Oprah and said: we don't even know each other! The next thing I know, I am about to do something else (like get on a plane) and Oprah stops me to tell me so and so is dead (so and so sleeps below me on a bunk bed). So and so also has Down Syndrome. I rush home to see about so and so and there she is on the floor next to her lower bunk, surrounded by candles, laid out for a wake. That's when I notice she is not dead! I yank on her ankle and demand to know what is going on. She tells me Oprah told her to do it as a joke on me. I am angry, I march out looking for Oprah, find her, and tell her she is a bitch. Oprah has never been told this before, so she knocks it off.
Extraction: This dream is just more of the same only now he is a bitch disguised as Oprah. Trying to get me to believe stuff that isn't even true and trying to disrupt my life when I tell him one solution to our problems is developing a routine.
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