Wednesday, July 27th, 2016 — 27°C / 79°F – Sunny & Muggy @ 10:21 am in Atlantic Canada —
In a series of dreams with continuity :
- I was working at a newspaper or video news organization with a group of young-ish men and women, some of whom I recognized as having been hyper-critical near bullies in high school, the kind who sneered and never had anything good to say, who usually began a conversation with a sneering fault-finding put-down of whatever person they were talking to. We all had blue and white shirts we were supposed to wear while we were reporting (on the air?) These short sleeved shirts were there for anybody to wear when it was their turn to research or report a story. The shirts looked like they had a plastic coating.
- I went to the police with notes. These notes were on about a six inch [ top to bottom ], by three inch wide yellow, lined pad. I was made to feel like I was in trouble with the law. But my notes were thorough – I got my point across to the police officials’ satisfaction – They then brought me to Fire Department investigators who asked me to repeat my story to them and answer their questions. When I got back to the News Office I was happily relieved and told everyone that I had new contacts at the Police Department and The Fire Department. I got some kind of promotion, got my own desk and a bonus large enough to buy my own blue and white shirt so I wouldn’t have to wear one of the communal shirts.
- I was with several others, maybe from the news office, maybe a completely different group of people. We were traveling around in an alien (as in Extra-Terrestrial) vehicle that had the capability of transporting us in and out of the consensus time line – we could “phase out” and move around in a nearby parallel dimension where we could see people in our normal time ‘zone’, but they were ‘frozen’ in extreme slow motion. They didn’t know we were there. — While we were phasing in and out and moving around in that dimension, I was taking notes on a smaller yellow lined ‘sticky notes’ pad and secretly leaving messages to the people in the normal time zone.
- Back in the news office I was happy to sit at my private desk with my private shirt hanging on a hanger in what may have been my private closet. I got up and moved back to the room where all my colleagues were clustered together with typically four desks together in groups, two side by side facing two more side by side so they almost looked like one large desk with their seams presenting just a bit of groove between desks. It was down time, lunch break or something, and the idle reporters were playing some kind of game with silver balls that looked like ball bearings, but were probably plastic. The balls were different sizes and had slightly different coloured glows so they could be identified as ‘belonging’ to different players. The game they were playing was something between table top Bocce and a very fluid kind of Curling where the players put amazing spin on their balls and the balls roll around in circles and try to knock other players’ balls off the field. I was unfamiliar with the game and asked somebody how it was played and how it was scored. This wise cracking reporter type grinned and said, “You have to have a lot of balls to play this game.”
— shrug –,
~~~~~ Jim