<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575</id><updated>2011-08-03T01:29:13.278-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wide awake in dreamland</title><subtitle type='html'>I have strange dreams at night that are very vivid. Sometimes I have a dream or two every night that I remember, other times I don't.  Either way, hopefully I'll have time to write them here. </subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>112</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8358704920092811728</id><published>2009-08-31T12:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T12:03:33.268-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Laundry</title><content type='html'>I had yet another dream in the house where I grew up. I was in the basement wanting to do laundry. Everything that was always in the basement was there, in my dream. Except the large laundry bin; it was replaced by a shiny, new, large commercial front-loading washer. Inside the washer was embedded 2 shiny new stainless steel racks, front to back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The regular top loading washer was already being used. There were other people in the basement, also waiting to do laundry. A guy who looked a lot like John Barrowman was standing nearby and he told me that if I planned to use the new machine, to please read the instructions carefully and BE VERY CAREFUL. I silently scoffed at him. I know how to use all kinds of wash machines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put all my stuff into the machine &amp;amp; there was still plenty of room left, although there would have been more room had the racks not been in it, but there was no way to remove them. Someone else asked me to put as much of her clothes in the washer as I could but then realized I was putting the whites in with colors. I told her I just planned to wash everything in cold water &amp;amp; get it all done at once. I then wondered if the purpose of the racks was to help separate them so there was less chance of the colors "bleeding". In the meantime, John Barrowman looking guy was standing several feet away observing but not saying anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8358704920092811728?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8358704920092811728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8358704920092811728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8358704920092811728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8358704920092811728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/08/laundry.html' title='Laundry'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3287601297451244901</id><published>2009-07-30T12:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T12:02:02.758-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mistaken Identity and Lint</title><content type='html'>First weird dream: I was outside walking somewhere. Ahead of me and to my right was a brick wall, faded yellow, roughly 4 foot (121.92 cm) high. A man was standing on the right side of it looking over it. Gareth David-Lloyd was walking past the other side when the man pointed a gun at him. I only remember the man implying he thought GDL had in his possession something the man (Mr. Gunman) wanted back. Either that or the Mr. Gunman thought John Barrowman had something Mr. Gunman wanted back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't quite remember what was being said in the dream, only that either GDL kept telling Mr. Gunman he was mistaken, that GDL did not have whatever the thing was. Or GDL kept telling Mr. Gunman he was mistaken in thinking JB had something of his or that GDL could contact JB and go see him on a whim to find out what it was. I knew that even if GDL could contact JB, he wouldn't have anyway, because, nutcase holding a gun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I somehow managed to signal GDL to escalate the argument, which he did, just enough so I could distract Mr. Gunman long enough for GDL to take the gun away from him. We succeeded and GDL was pointing the gun at Mr. Gunman while we discussed which of us would go for help when I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I had a dream that I was in a very large room, with white walls, floor, ceiling, brightly lit. The floor was literally covered with light-colored navy blue gobs of soft lightweight lint. My friend Irene &amp;amp; I were trying to sweep it up, but it was so lightweight that every time we ran the brooms across the floor, half the lint would just float up &amp;amp; settle back down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone walked into the room and started talking to me about something. As I talked I continued to try sweeping the floor. I said something about there not being even one square inch of the floor that was not covered with lint and wondering how we were going to get it all swept up. It went on for a time. I'm guessing that because it was pretty much a never ending battle, I got myself to wake up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3287601297451244901?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3287601297451244901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3287601297451244901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3287601297451244901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3287601297451244901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/07/mistaken-identity-and-lint.html' title='Mistaken Identity and Lint'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5414785497234804435</id><published>2009-07-19T11:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T12:00:12.828-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrities</title><content type='html'>WARNING: THIS DREAM IS RATED SOMEWHERE BETWEEN PG-13 &amp;amp; NC-17&lt;br /&gt;FOR SEXUAL THEME:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a dream last night that I was in a house that resembled the one in which I grew up. John Barrowman, Scott Gill and a couple other people were in the kitchen discussing something of which I don't know the details. I walked in carrying my journal &amp;amp; set it down on the table and proceeded to fix myself a cold drink of something. SG looked at the journal and asked about it. It is the one in which I have GDL's, Mark Sheppard's &amp;amp; Peter Wingfield's autographs. I considered asking JB &amp;amp; SG for theirs, but decided it would probably be tacky because they were guests in the home. I also thought briefly of mentioning that GDL had signed his autograph to "Carol" instead of to me, but I thought that, too, would be tacky &amp;amp; I did not know what I could gain from doing it other than perhaps a little sympathy from JB. But then SG surprised me and asked if I wouldn't mind if he signed a page in it. I took him up on the offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, I was getting ice from the freezer and putting it in my drink. I stood on my tip-toes in my Dansko shoes and commented on very nearly being as tall as the two of them. JB gave me a "you are rather silly" look &amp;amp; I realized that WAS a really goofy thing to do. After they both signed my journal I thanked them &amp;amp; took it into the living room, sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. I told someone else that the program we wanted to watch was about to start &amp;amp; for that person to hurry up &amp;amp; finish whatever he/she was doing &amp;amp; get into the living room. JB asked what we were getting ready to watch. I told him, although I do not now remember what it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was in my car driving to a store where JB &amp;amp; SG had just arrived. They decided they did not want to go inside the store, but wanted to go back to the house because JB was more tired than he originally realized. Suddenly I was in the car in which they drove, sitting in the front passenger seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car was some old 1980's boat, a Thunderbird, or Riviera or something. I was leaning against my door a little, looking out the passenger window when the car started swerving into oncoming traffic. I looked over at JB and saw he was beginning to doze off. I told him to be careful. He claimed that he was not sure how to get back to the house. I asked him if he perhaps wanted me to drive. I looked back at him again and he &amp;amp; SG were making out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He took me up on the offer to drive &amp;amp; pulled over into the left turn lane where I quickly ran around to the driver's side and JB &amp;amp; SG both got into the back seat, laid down and started really making out! As I shifted into drive I told them that one of them would have to at some point later drive me back to my car. SG told me he would while JB slept &amp;amp; in the meantime, if I needed to go anywhere I was welcome to use this car. Then I grabbed a phone and held it up. JB asked me what I was doing. I told him I had to text pretty much every one I knew about driving them, but then said I was totally kidding. I got back on the road &amp;amp; they were pretty much ready to have sex right there in the back seat of the car (even though they never got as far as taking their clothes off) when (thankfully?) I woke up. By "thankfully" I mean having a dream that I am driving a car with JB &amp;amp; SG in the backseat about to have sex is just plain bonkers, yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ummm, yeah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5414785497234804435?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5414785497234804435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5414785497234804435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5414785497234804435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5414785497234804435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/07/celebrities.html' title='Celebrities'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8538925955450194660</id><published>2009-07-12T11:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:57:10.335-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hiding</title><content type='html'>I suddenly found myself hiding from someone(s) in someone else's apartment. Those searching for me either wanted to kill me or was just seeking information they thought I had. I was in some sort of small closet/storage area, laying on a metal wire rack shelf. There was a shelf below me &amp;amp; one above. I was hiding behind an assortment of things. The door was a roll-up type that was open just then. The person who allowed me to hide there was gone, but his roommate walked in. I tried to stay silent. He sat down at a desk on which was a computer. He worked at the computer for only minute. I debated crawling out &amp;amp; announcing my presence. He got up just then and walked to the closet/storage area and rummaged around for something. I thought for sure he would see me, and I began to squirm just a little in the small hope that he would notice me, realize I was there but I did not want to frighten him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He never noticed me. I found what he was looking for and rolled down the door. I was afraid he would lock it, much like one does for the roll-up door for a box truck or actual storage unit. I quickly crawled to the door, started banging on it and shouting for the guy to open the door. At first nothing happened. I kept banging &amp;amp; shouting. He finally opened the door &amp;amp; looked at me. I explained that I was hiding from someone who was searching for me. He just looked at me &amp;amp; shook his head. I finally realized he was deaf. Because I know some sign language, I tried telling him in ASL who I was and why I was there. Unfortunately for me, there were words I could not remember the signs for. I kept making the sign for "it has slipped my mind" and then I would fingerspell the word. He would nod &amp;amp; show me the appropriate sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He offered to take me somewhere else and I crawled out of the closet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there is more to the dream, but I can not for the life of me remember the rest. Just something about sitting on a couch between other people and listening to their conversations. They would ask me something and every time I tried to speak my words came out wrong or not at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eventually woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8538925955450194660?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8538925955450194660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8538925955450194660' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8538925955450194660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8538925955450194660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/07/hiding.html' title='Hiding'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-6323235792286031583</id><published>2009-07-09T11:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:55:35.863-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Invasion</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed I was riding my bike through a neighborhood. Suddenly people were in a panic running or riding bikes up &amp;amp; down streets. I don't remember if I actually asked anyone specifically what was going on, but I did get the information that a group of someones or somethings were forcing people to gather in groups to take them somewhere. People suspected they were being killed. I jumped off the bike, let it drop to the ground and ran into a house. There were lots of people inside trying to house-hop, trying to hide from the group-who-possibly-kills. I did briefly wonder if they were Daleks or Borg or something. As the group went to each house, people snuck out back doors &amp;amp; through windows to the next house in which to hide. Those not fast enough were herded away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I snuck behind a large couch and crouched there hoping to not be seen. A group of soldiers entered and I heard one of them tell the others to check behind &amp;amp; under every piece of furniture. I was trying to figure out how to get from behind the couch &amp;amp; out of the house without the soldiers seeing me when I saw my maternal grandfather, who passed away something like 15 years ago--July 22 now that I think about it, at age 84--sneak out from another room. He spotted me, grabbed my hand, dragged me towards a window and pretty much shoved me through, following behind me. It was suddenly night time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ran behind the house and ended up at a narrow canal or river. He pulled me towards some boats tied up to the canal/river bank except the boats were all several feet out in the water. He was about to grab for the rope attached to a boat and pull it in so we could get on but it was floating in the water and the boat was beginning to sink. Another older couple ran up to us, the owner of one of the boats. The man offered the use of his boat, except it, too, had the rope too far out to reach. There were people closer to the house still running around in a panic and the soldiers trying to gather as many of them as possible. Inside the house and outside we heard lots of gun fire. They were shooting at or towards many of the fleeing people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I jumped into the water and swam to the boat. My grandfather yelled at me to just jump in the boat &amp;amp; go &amp;amp; to not worry about him or the other couple. I refused. I told him I could drag the boat to the bank so they could all jump in. My grandfather kept telling me no. He had been carry a suitcase which he threw to me &amp;amp; told me to just make sure the contents stayed safe. He was telling me that something inside the suitcase could not get into the hands of the soldiers because they would hand it over to whom/whatever wanted to kill everyone. In the meantime, I had just managed to drag the boat back so they could all get in. I got into the boat. My grandfather ushered the couple onto the boat first, but then the boat floated back out before he could on. I looked for oars to row back again but there were none. I was about to jump back out into the water, but my grandfather kept telling me to duck down &amp;amp; lay in the bottom so the soldiers would not see us &amp;amp; to not worry about him, he would meet me at a place he told me, but I can't remember now. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-6323235792286031583?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/6323235792286031583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=6323235792286031583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6323235792286031583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6323235792286031583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/07/invasion.html' title='Invasion'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-9087438511668428415</id><published>2009-07-08T11:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:55:59.928-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy Restrooms</title><content type='html'>I had a couple strange dreams last week that I recall but hadn't gotten to posting. Both were because I had to pee a little except I was fast asleep. In the first dream, I was at a school, possibly the high school I went to or maybe even the elementary school I attended. Anyway I walked in &amp;amp; it was pitch dark &amp;amp; I could not see anything. I felt along a wall as I walked. I was looking for someone specific. I had to go to the bathroom and somehow came to what I knew was a ladies' room. I went inside. Still very dark, but I heard voices talking. A projector was turned on. There were lots of people sitting and standing facing the wall opposite the stalls, where all the sinks were. Everyone was getting ready to watch a movie or TV show. I walked back out &amp;amp; felt along the wall until I eventually found another ladies' room and went inside. Again more voices. This time I found the light switch &amp;amp; turned on the light. It got very bright and I saw lots of people. Many were sitting in lawn chairs in front of the stalls, others were standing behind those who were seated crowded but not packed into the stalls behind the seated people. Again they were all facing the wall where the sinks were. Again they were all getting ready to watch something from a projector. People yelled at me to turn the light off. As I turned the light off I told them I had to go to the bathroom. Some people cleared out a stall for me, but I could not go with all those people in the room. Even though by that time someone had turned on the projector &amp;amp; everyone had begun watching the show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left and continued feeling my way in the dark, abandoning the idea of going to the bathroom and concentrating on finding whoever I was there to meet when I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second dream I had the next night was that I was in a park. I had just watched something entertaining. I have no idea what it was but I was there with&lt;span class="ljuser ljuser-name_mrs_sweetpeach" user="mrs_sweetpeach" style="white-space: nowrap;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   A &amp;amp; GH and &lt;span class="ljuser ljuser-name_jebra" user="jebra" style="white-space: nowrap;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. They both folded the lawn chairs they had been sitting in and gathered up a bunch more stuff. I gathered up a couple things of mine and picked up some umbrellas. One was mine, the rest belonged to A &amp;amp; G. G tried reaching for theirs, but both of their arms were full of stuff. I offered to carry the umbrellas, but I told them I had to get to a ladies room first, then I would meet them at their car to hand off the umbrellas. They agreed. I went to a shelter that was specifically a mens' &amp;amp; ladies' room, just like a rest area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went into the ladies' room. There was a row of about a dozen or so stalls. Every one of them had someone in it and there were a few dozen women &amp;amp; children lined up waiting to use the stalls. This was not first in line first to use first available stall like usual, though. People were lined up at each stall and along the wall. I kept walking, rounded a corner and was met with same thing: a dozen + stalls, women &amp;amp; children waiting to use them. I kept walking, went through a door and ended up with the same problem. Rounded another corner, same thing. Except that was the end of line, so to speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned around and went back through each "room" hoping to find that things had sped along and there was an available stall. No such luck. I did not have to go very badly, hardly at all, so I went outside where jebra was waiting, with arms still loaded with stuff. For a reason I don't know, I was adamant about going to the bathroom rather than wait even though afterwards I was headed to the house of whoever was hosting &lt;span class="ljuser ljuser-name_semgs" user="semgs" style="white-space: nowrap;"&gt;a party&lt;/span&gt;  that day &amp;amp; I could wait &amp;amp; more easily use their bathroom. But, somehow, it became a major issue for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, instead, I told jebra there was a line &amp;amp; to let AG know I would be along shortly. He headed towards their car. I went back inside but still far too many women &amp;amp; children waiting to use the toilets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I just walked up to a stall as a woman exited and asked for some toilet paper. She said there was none left. I went to the next stall, same thing. In the third stall there was a little toilet paper left. The woman next in line started getting angry at the thought I was cutting in line. I grabbed a couple squares of tp and angrily told her that it was utterly ridiculous that it was taking so effing long just to use an effing toilet. I lied &amp;amp; said I had to go too frigging badly to wait &amp;amp; that I was just going to pee in a frigging corner of the frigging bathroom &amp;amp; I did not care what anyone thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thankfully&lt;/em&gt; I woke up just then. And went to the bathroom even though I did not have to go very badly. sheesh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-9087438511668428415?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/9087438511668428415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=9087438511668428415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/9087438511668428415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/9087438511668428415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/07/busy-restrooms.html' title='Busy Restrooms'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-558564870205633327</id><published>2009-06-29T11:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:48:56.013-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost in an Airport, Being in a Hospital and Vampires</title><content type='html'>1. I dreamed I was in California trying to get back to Michigan and I was driving around in my own car inside an airport trying to find the parking lot. I was supposed to park and catch a plane back. I was in very large rooms, semi dark with darkish carpeting. Some rooms had no windows, some had windows that were very high near the ceilings. I kept coming to wooden gates, the kind that are at the tollbooths in Illinois. Only these did not have shelters per se. They were just the wooden arms that were down and there was no visible means of making them go up to let me pass. I was suddenly following another smaller car. The smaller car made it around an arm, but my car was too large. Also, every so often I would see security guards or police officers walking around. I finally stopped my car, turned off the engine, got out &amp;amp; started walking. There were more security guards/police officers. I started towards a couple to ask where the parking lot was, but they turned and walked away from me and I could not catch up to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally approached a set of doors &amp;amp; went in &amp;amp; found myself on an elevator. The doors opened and I found myself on a roof parking lot. I walked through the parking lot and was getting frustrated and tired while making my way towards a wall. I went around the corner and found several sets of glass, mirrored doors. I went in a door and was back inside the airport. I attempted to find my car while trying to remember where the parking lot was. I was back in one of the rooms I had driven through at least a couple times previously. I walked to the back of the room passing several people and more security guards/police officers and headed towards several escalators. I got to them &amp;amp; discovered they all came from what I thought was a floor above. I wanted to get to that upper level. Only 1 escalator worked, but I was too tired to try climbing it while it went down to the floor I was on. The others did not work, but they had a wooden arm across indicating I could not use them. The only other thing that worked that went up to the floor I wanted to get to was more like an inclining conveyor belt. I got on. Just as it got to the top, I realized it went no where but back down to the floor, and it sped way up at that point so I had no time to turn around and try to run back down the way I came. Instead I plunged down to the floor. There was about a 2 foot space between the conveyor/escalator and a wall. I was completely stuck. I thought about yelling for help hoping someone would hear me when, thankfully, I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Another dream I had, I went to a hospital to see someone who was there as a patient. I was in a separate room sitting on a bed and a nurse was taking blood from me. She said that as soon as we were finished I could go back &amp;amp; visit the person I was originally there to see. It was the third or fourth time during my visit that blood was taken from me. They kept testing it for something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had to go to change into my scrubs and go to work. I only had my scrubs pants on when someone came into my room and told me that everyone had to be evacuated to the basement. I walked with several other people to an elevator. The elevator filled with people. I tried to squeeze on, but decided I'd rather wait. Someone asked if it was safe in the basement. I looked at the speaker and saw it was Carol W. Her face had broken out in a pink rash. I asked her if she realized it, if her face hurt or itched. No she said. There was a mirror nearby that she looked into. She had no idea what it was. A nurse had just walked up with some patients to take to the basement on the elevator when it got back. I grabbed C by the arm and pulled her to the nurse &amp;amp; drew her attention to the rash. The nurse began escorting her to a room and I started following when I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. This dream I blame on trying to watch a badly edited R to PG From Dusk Til Dawn. I did not watch the whole movie because it was a) edited so badly the audio was slightly off and/or b) the movie is 13 years old anyway. It was almost like watching a TV episode of anything that someone recorded from TV &amp;amp; uploaded to youtube using a bad audio/video software program or something. Sometimes the audio is off just enough to almost like a Bruce Lee movie made in China &amp;amp; dubbed in English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamed I was battling vampires. Not much detail. I woke up while fighting off one that was about to try taking a chunk out of my neck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-558564870205633327?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/558564870205633327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=558564870205633327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/558564870205633327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/558564870205633327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/06/lost-in-airport-being-in-hospital-and.html' title='Lost in an Airport, Being in a Hospital and Vampires'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-9182529805460271511</id><published>2009-06-24T11:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:46:28.784-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Extraterrestrial Terrorists</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was a substitute elementary school teacher, 4th grade or below. I had bought a large plastic interactive help kids learn to draw thing. I had put it in the teacher’s locked desk drawer, but the next morning it had disappeared. A teacher in the next room was bringing her kids over to watch. I asked her if she had seen anyone in the room the previous day or early that morning. She had not. I went to every classroom looking in windows if they had one, barging into those that didn't. I was on the other end of the school and hoping the kids in "my" class were not getting too rowdy while I peeked into a room and saw a teacher showing her kids the same drawing “toy”. I ran in &amp;amp; grabbed it, telling her it was mine. She said it wasn't &amp;amp; told me she had just bought one and pointed to the receipt on the desk. I put down the toy &amp;amp; picked up the receipt. I looked at it and wondered if either it was mine &amp;amp; she had taken that, too, or she had printed her own. I doubted it and apologized explaining what had happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly we heard over the school's PA a news report that there was a rumor that alien terrorists may be getting ready to destroy Earth and everyone had to evacuate to the moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was suddenly at a NASA like place in Illinois waiting in line to get on a rocket ship. Standing behind me were min8ive, J. &amp;amp; their son B. B was allowed onto the first rocket, but min8ive &amp;amp; J were told they had to get on the second one. B was not allowed to automatically get on the second one. A couple getting on the first offered to switch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I embarked along with M &amp;amp; T B, L &amp;amp; J &amp;amp; their 2 kids, JB &amp;amp; several others. On the way there, M pointed out that perhaps the old ratty t-shirt I was wearing might not be the best to have gone to the moon in. I realized I could have been wearing a nicer, newer one and commented that now I am worried that I could have picked a nicer t-shirt in which to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I noticed John's brother Chris B sitting next to him. He was just sitting motionless with his hands clasped together staring blankly at the floor. I told him how sorry I was to have heard he passed away (he really did, of leukemia). He did not say anything or move a single muscle. I thought about how it was probably inappropriate for me to care what T-shirt I was wearing at that point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to the moon &amp;amp; the second rocket ship was on it’s way when we got news that it was a false rumor &amp;amp; it was ok to go back. Our rocket ship had taken off from the moon when it was discovered they left behind 3 people who had gotten off to walk on the moon. The rocket orbited the moon while the three people space walked back and the rest of us looked out windows and watched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The three people made it safely back in &amp;amp; we returned to Earth. The rocket landed at S W’s house (even thought I have no idea what it looks like). Everyone else left quickly. Steve was in his kitchen looking at a piece of mail he had retrieved from his mail box &amp;amp; was a bit upset over it’s contents: a credit card statement saying he had charged a lot more than he apparently thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M &amp;amp; I were inside trying to make our way to the front door so we could leave, but she spotted a copy of the extended version of the Lord of the Rings book lying in a stack of books on a side table. I told her we should really get out of the there, but she picked it up. I quietly commented that I had the same book in a storage container. Suddenly we heard music over another PA system: the song Eagles Fly by Sammy Hagar (see below). She flipped through the book looking for the song lyrics but in the center of the book, the pages were stiffer. I told her they were photos of filming the movies. Then Terry B walked in the front door &amp;amp; gave us both “Why are you still here looks”. I told him we were just leaving and pretty much grabbed the back of M's shirt collar &amp;amp; dragged her out the front door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-9182529805460271511?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/9182529805460271511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=9182529805460271511' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/9182529805460271511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/9182529805460271511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/06/extraterrestrial-terrorists.html' title='Extraterrestrial Terrorists'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5964012982771164337</id><published>2009-06-18T11:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:37:16.201-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Cigars and More Zombies</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed I was riding on someone else's motorcycle. He dropped me off in a parking lot at the back of a strip of only a few stores. It was very crowded. I walked in the back door of one of the stores intending to buy a cigar. Yeah, I don't either. The store was too crowded so I walked back out &amp;amp; went to the one next door. That, too was crowded but I continued in anyway because I thought I really wanted a cigar. I have smoked a cigar maybe 2 or 3 times in my life, but only that was offered to me so I know nothing about buying them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The store manager saw me &amp;amp; asked me if he could assist me. I told I wanted to buy a cigar. He pointed to my right where, along the wall was a dark gray metal shelving unit upon which were lots of different cigars. I just wanted to buy something cheap because I could not afford to buy an expensive one. I looked them over. He asked me if I really wanted to buy a cigar. I thought about it for a couple minutes and decided I did not. I wanted to buy a newspaper. To the left of the cigar shelves were dark gray metal newspaper shelves. I looked at the neat stacks of newspaper, but they were not labeled like they are in, say a Borders book store so I was not quite sure which I wanted. I started to pull the top paper down from each stack to see what they were but gave up altogether because more &amp;amp; more people were coming into the store. I told the manager I changed my mind and walked out the front door where motorcycle guy was waiting for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We rode to someone's house where he again dropped me off at the back door. I went inside and encountered another person. Not sure if it was male or female but he/she was in his/her 20's and he/she told me he/she was waiting for his/her father to get home. We made our way to the front of the house where the father had pulled up in the driveway and was getting out of the car. He came towards the door and noticed his eyes were all blood-shot and glazed over and half his face was decomposing. I knew immediately he was a zombie. I slammed the door and told the kid his/her father was a zombie &amp;amp; to not get near him. We went out a side window onto a porch deck where my motorcycle driver and a friend of his on another motorcycle were waiting. I jumped on the motorcycle behind my friend while pushing the other person towards the other motorcycle and yelled for the person to get on. The person kept wanting to go to his/her father, who was quickly coming towards us. I again explained to the kid that the father could not get anywhere near us or we could end up becoming zombies. The motorcycle drivers had to find a way to turn around on the somewhat narrow deck when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5964012982771164337?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5964012982771164337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5964012982771164337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5964012982771164337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5964012982771164337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/06/cigars-and-more-zombies.html' title='Cigars and More Zombies'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8444843302185462557</id><published>2009-06-17T11:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:35:31.254-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mascara and Pretending to be a Zombie</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that I was in on a joke being played on another person. It was morning and I had gotten up and was to go outside and walk to a pre-specified location where someone was waiting. First, I had to put mascara on my eyelashes. For reasons I was not quite sure of, it was before showering or at the very least washing my face. As I put the mascara on, my lashes grew by at least an inch and there was very little clumping. I was impressed by it. I then walked to a parking lot. There were 2 people sitting in a black SUV. About a dozen other people approached the driver’s side of the vehicle. On the passenger side of the vehicle was a grassy median with trees. It’s not significant as far as I know. I’m just including as much detail as I remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, someone standing nearby interviewed me about the mascara. I was asked what I thought about it. I told the person I liked it in that it certainly made my lashes a lot longer than they are but that I did not like that I would have to use makeup remover to get it back off. If it were the kind that did not require remover, however, it would undoubtedly be all over my cheeks already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the interview was time for the prank. Each one of us walked up to the driver in the SUV, he pointed something at us &amp;amp; we each pretended to become zombies. Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t recall seeing flix or mascara ads lately, so why I dreamed about either…*shrugs* There was one person there who was supposed to believe we really had become zombies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we each zombie-walked back to our houses. My “house” was the house up north where my uncle &amp;amp; his sister live. I was in his sister’s bedroom, but it was the room it used to be before she converted it and it was much larger. There was a lot of stuff in the room, some seemed to be gift-wrapped presents. I was digging around the stuff looking for something. I think it was clothes in order to take a shower. Then I was in the bathroom trying to clean the mascara off my lashes. I got a small square piece of gauze, took a bottle of make-up remover, put some on the gauze and proceeded to wipe it off my lashes. My lashes got smaller again as the mascara came off. I intended to put it back on after my shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the dream changed. The person on whom the zombie prank was being played had come over. I started pretending I was a zombie, but he got hip to it and asked me why we were doing it. I started telling him, but I don’t remember the actual reason. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8444843302185462557?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8444843302185462557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8444843302185462557' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8444843302185462557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8444843302185462557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/06/mascara-and-pretending-to-be-zombie.html' title='Mascara and Pretending to be a Zombie'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8045399054729649472</id><published>2009-06-08T11:25:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:31:27.261-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Ghost, A Dead Person, Fried Eggs and Drugs</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was back at the house where I grew up. Again. I was in the backyard, laying on a lounge chair. There were people behind me selling things at small kiosks next to the garage. I got up to look at the stuff. I walked over to a bin that had standing upright in it some kind of rolled up flags or banners or something. I started taking a closer look at them. They were mostly white with a kind of burgundyish-brownish colored...something on them. I suddenly had the creepy feeling that I was being watched closely. I looked around at the people milling about, but no one was looking at me. I ran out of the yard to the side door of the house. As I reached for the door knob to open it, I saw in the door window the reflection of a girl standing directly behind me staring at me. I whirled around, but there was no one there. I looked at the reflection again &amp;amp; saw she was still there. She had long, straight dark brown or black hair, very pale skin, dark eyes, wearing a dirt-smeared white dress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I yanked the door open, jumped inside the house and slammed the door shut. I stood there for a minute, then slowly eased the curtain on the window back to see if she was still standing there. She was. Except I could also feel her standing directly behind me inside the house. I started to panic but I also started thinking that I couldn't panic, I had to find out who she was and why she was following me when I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="cutid2"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then, I had a dream I was once again in the backyard of the house where I grew up. There were several people around. Someone was frying eggs in a pan on a grill. I was going to have one of the eggs. The eggs were already partially cooked when I noticed the “skin” that covers the yolk had been pulled back on 2 or 3 of the eggs. I took a spatula and pulled the skin back over the yolks. The yolks started “bubbling”. The person cooking the eggs said that was why he or she had pulled them away. I took the spatula and peeled the skin back again &amp;amp; the yolks stopped bubbling. I wanted the yolk on my egg soft, but the person who was “in charge” of cooking the eggs was just standing there. First, I was staring at the eggs watching the yolks be too cooked, I looked up at the person, who at first was talking but had suddenly grown quiet. He or she was just staring off into space. I took the frying pan off the grill, carried it into the garage, and set it on a table. I cut one of the eggs with the spatula, took it out of the frying pan, and put it on a plate. I then got some toast from somewhere and put 3 slices on the grill for a couple minutes to toast them, but then decided 3 slices was too much &amp;amp; I only wanted 2. I took 1 back off the grill and stuck it back in the bag with the rest of the loaf. I proceeded to let the other 2 toast, then buttered them and put jelly on one of them. As I did that I glanced up and saw my original employer at the last place where I had worked; the employer who had passed away several years ago now. His name was Abe. When he passed away no one knew exactly how old he was, he was a Holocaust survivor. He never spoke about it, except to say that when he was dragged from his bed his mother had told him to lie about his age and say he was older so he had a better chance of surviving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my dream, he was standing towards the front of the backyard, on the outside of the fence. He had just come from inside the house looking for his daughter-in-law Kelly. He asked me if I had seen her. I told him I thought she was the one who had just slipped toward between the fence the separated our yard from the neighbors’ and the garage to head towards the back, but I had not actually gotten a good look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was in a movie theater watching a movie with lots of other people. I was sitting in the 3rd or 4th row on the far end with an aisle to my immediate right. The people next to me &amp;amp; in the row directly in front of me were all talking and scoffing at the people in the row in front of them. They were high schoolers who were being a nuisance. They were making fun of the movie. Somehow, all of their seats were facing the rest of us and they had all stood up, put their heads on the seats and were “sitting” upside down with their asses facing the rest of us. I took my camera out of my sweater pocket &amp;amp; was trying to take pictures but the camera settings were all wrong. I was getting pictures with fancy frames around them that I did not want. Security came and approached a woman who was accused of being the instigator to the high-schoolers mischief. I tried taking pictures of the woman as she was being escorted out of the theater from the right side of the movie screen. The security guys saw me trying to take pictures and told me not to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was in a car with Abe. We had just completed a journey. I dropped him off at someone’s house, then phoned a friend to meet me somewhere public to pick up my luggage that she had taken with her because there was no room in my own car. The friend had arrived the next day after Abe &amp;amp; I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met in a parking lot behind a restaurant. She was parked there first, I was somewhere across the street on the other side of another parking lot. I was looking through a chain-link fence &amp;amp; I could see her from where I was. She had pulled 2 suitcases out of her car. One of them was exactly like the one I take with me, the other looked just like it only a little bigger. In my dream, both were mine. Two police officers walked up to her. One was a friend of hers. The other insisted on “inspecting” the suitcases. By inspecting, he had a large, black plastic handheld device that had a handle and was shaped sort of like a gun, but the “barrel” came to a point and had a small blue light on the end. It was actually some kind of drug detecting device. I stood there and watched. The officers detected no drugs, the officer friend conversed with the woman for a few minutes, and then they both left. I walked over to the woman, conversed with her &amp;amp; thanked her for bringing my luggage. I wheeled them back across the parking lots towards my car. I was almost there when both officers suddenly appeared and asked me if the luggage was mine and where was I going with them. I told them yes they were mine &amp;amp; I pointed to my car, which was still about 30 feet away. The one with the drug detector asked if I had a receipt for them. I told him no. He told me had to inspect them and proceeded to unzip the outside pockets and slide the device around the insides. I hoped and prayed my friend had not slipped in bags of coke or heroine while she was out of my sight as I had walked across the parking lots to get to her. I wondered of I should tell the other officer, her friend, that she was also a friend of mine &amp;amp; to explain about how I had traveled with someone else and that I’d not had room for my own luggage but that our friend had brought it for me when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8045399054729649472?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8045399054729649472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8045399054729649472' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8045399054729649472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8045399054729649472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/06/ghost-dead-person-fried-eggs-and-drugs.html' title='A Ghost, A Dead Person, Fried Eggs and Drugs'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-7412767071270998487</id><published>2009-05-30T11:22:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:25:14.941-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Bus, George Clooney and The Doctor</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that I was going somewhere (I don't know where) and got onto a red bus. The gray seats were designed to sit 3 people each, but we were told to sit 1 or 2 people each. I sat on one of the seats to my right. Across the aisle was a family of 4 or 5 sharing a seat and they were pretty much crammed in. I heard someone nearby repeat that there were only supposed to be 1 or 2 people per seat. The family made no move to separate. I saw George Clooney also step onto the bus among the line of others still being seated. Suddenly there was a commotion in the back of the bus. I turned and saw the front of another bus was inside, adjacent to the one I was on. GC told everyone to quickly get off, that there was another bus waiting for us. I stayed behind and helped GC make sure everyone got off the bus ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was in some sort of room, not very well lit. There was a wardrobe covered with dark royal blue curtains in the room. Standing in front of it was The 10th Doctor, but he was dressed as a clown, complete with make-up. There was another person in the room, talking to him. I looked at him closely and decided he did not look like David Tennant. I realized he looked more like one of the previous Doctors, like Tom Baker or Peter Davison. He was wearing shiny gold pants with red &amp;amp; white striped suspenders. I don't remember the color shirt he was wearing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-7412767071270998487?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/7412767071270998487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=7412767071270998487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7412767071270998487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7412767071270998487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/05/bus-george-clooney-and-doctor.html' title='A Bus, George Clooney and The Doctor'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8333659881937294792</id><published>2009-05-29T11:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:22:07.151-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Jared Tries to Cook Chicken</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that Jared Padalecki had come over to my house. &lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Except "my house" was the one in which I grew up. He had stayed the night (sorry, nothing pervy went on!) and slept on the couch in the basement. The next day he was in the kitchen making fried chicken. Both my younger and my older sisters were there. I had just woken up and needed to take a shower. I went downstairs to the bedroom in the basement where I had my blue &amp;amp; white striped duffel bag packed with my clothes except my older sister, who was upstairs, had locked the door. I yelled up to her to come &amp;amp; unlock the door, but she wasn't coming down fast enough. JP was there to see me &amp;amp; I felt bad that my sisters had to occupy their time with him in case he needed anything for the chicken he was frying. I tried kicking in the bedroom door, but it was too solid. Finally D. came down &amp;amp; unlocked the door while I asked her why on earth she locked it in the first place. I don't remember her response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got fresh clothes and my deodorant out of my duffel bag, but the deodorant was nearly gone. I knew I had a new one I had bought somewhere and went searching for it. I finally found it and went upstairs into the bathroom. Suddenly I was done with my shower &amp;amp; fully clothed when I went into the kitchen to see how the cooking was going. JP was gone. I panicked and asked min8ive where he had gone. She said he had to run to the store real quick for an ingredient. I went to the side door and looked out where I saw him jogging up the driveway with Sadie, one of his dogs. Except it was more like a cross between his Sadie &amp;amp; LL's Sadie. More than likely because I don't offhand remember exactly how JP's Sadie looks, because it wasn't like I went looking for pictures before I went to bed last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They both came back into the house. Then I was looking out the kitchen window that faces the front yard thinking about how good the chicken smelled and I asked when it would be done. JP told me it was done &amp;amp; put them all on plates. I took a bite out of one and thought about how yucky the breaded skin tasted. I can't even describe how bad it was. The skin was crunchy, like KFC's extra crispy style, but more flakey. The first thing I thought of was vinegar-y, but even that does not accurately describe it. The meat part of it tasted much better and so tender I barely had to chew it. I wondered how I could possibly get around eating the skin part while eating the meat part without hurting JP's feelings when suddenly JP turned into a friend who lives in the UK. I wondered how on earth that happened when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8333659881937294792?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8333659881937294792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8333659881937294792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8333659881937294792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8333659881937294792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/05/jared-tries-to-cook-chicken.html' title='Jared Tries to Cook Chicken'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5035399158391086069</id><published>2009-05-27T11:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:17:47.562-04:00</updated><title type='text'>In A Suitcase</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I was in a strange kind of room. The walls were gray painted brick. There were at least 3 people in the room other than myself. My hands were tied behind my back and I was standing off to one side. I had to watch while a man forced another (conscious) man into a very large suitcase and he zipped it up. He then opened a section of the wall adjacent to me &amp;amp; put the the suitcase with the man inside onto a gray metal shelving unit against the wall on the other side of the wall/door. He then closed the door and pulled in front of it another large gray metal shelving unit. Meanwhile the man in the suitcase kept yelling to not be left there. I tried to think of a way to escape these people and let the man out when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5035399158391086069?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5035399158391086069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5035399158391086069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5035399158391086069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5035399158391086069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/05/in-suitcase.html' title='In A Suitcase'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-318071678602279298</id><published>2009-05-18T11:12:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:16:11.206-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Supernatural Dream</title><content type='html'>I was watching an ex-coworker from years ago on TV when Dean came busting into my house telling me I had to leave quickly. I said I had to call J &amp;amp; tell him his life was being shown on TV. Dean told me it would have to wait &amp;amp; grabbed me &amp;amp; pulled me out the door. I grabbed my laptop on the way out and, while in the Impala, I went to a website that was simulcasting the "show". Dean told me I could contact J as soon as we get to our destination but that I had to hide from something or someone. We arrived at a small town, like one sees in old westerns. I got out of the car still watching the show on my computer. I still wanted to call J but I also wanted to call all my (now ex-)coworkers and gossip about it. In my dream I knew their phone numbers. Sam had come out of a business when the car had pulled up, escorted me into a door and told me the phone call would have to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-318071678602279298?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/318071678602279298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=318071678602279298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/318071678602279298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/318071678602279298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/05/supernatural-dream.html' title='A Supernatural Dream'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-401554943667463690</id><published>2009-05-13T11:10:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:11:42.755-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sprayed by Milk &amp; Taking Videos</title><content type='html'>Had a dream that I was in a very large room with lots of other people. Kind of like a cafeteria. I was floating on the floor in an inner tube. I was suddenly being sprayed by warm milk from above. I got off the inner tube and climbed up on tables &amp;amp; other tall things and discovered it was coming from the vents in the ceiling. People tried running for cover but there was none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was arguing with some guys near their cars. They had taken a video of me taking a video of them. It didn't matter, but for some unknown reason it did matter. I grabbed the video camera and looked it over. It could record video with an 8mm tape, an SD memory card and by one other removable source that I can't remember now all at the same time. I first removed the memory card and put it in my pants pocket. Then got the tape and handed it to a woman and searched for the third removable thing. In the meantime the woman handed back to the guys the tape. I got angry and tried to grab it back. The guy hid it among a bunch of other tapes &amp;amp; I had to try sorting them to find it. I finally gave up and took all the tapes &amp;amp; the camera and starting watching them to find the right one. Suddenly the memory card disappeared from my pocket &amp;amp; I asked the woman what she did with it. She told me gave it back to the guys. I got very angry and asked for it back. They refused. I told myself that it didn't really matter because I had the original recording of whatever thing they were doing that I planned to make public anyway and it didn't matter that they recorded me recording them, but I was committed to finding their recordings when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-401554943667463690?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/401554943667463690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=401554943667463690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/401554943667463690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/401554943667463690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/05/sprayed-by-milk-taking-videos.html' title='Sprayed by Milk &amp; Taking Videos'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3942253078039620553</id><published>2009-04-30T11:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:09:12.160-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Beer Run and Unburying A Sandwich</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I was at a house party. &lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Someone was going to make a beer run &amp;amp; I offered to accompany him. First I wanted to go to the bathroom, but when I went in the room was large and there was a burgundy couch and one or two chairs in which people sat and conversed. There were also dark wooden book cases with lots of books along the walls. I sat on the toilet but I couldn't go with so many people just sitting there. So I went back out, went outside and found the person making the beer run to go with him. On the way, I took my swiss army knife out of a pocket, handed it to someone I knew and asked him to hold onto it until I got back. As we walked to beer-run guy's car I wondered to myself why I didn't keep my knife because it wasn't like it mattered if I walked into a store with it in my pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then suddenly I was in the backyard of the house where I grew up. My friends M &amp;amp; T were out there and there was a banquet table set up on the lawn where T was standing. There was a lot of things on the table and he had something in his hand. I started digging in the lawn up against the garage and unburied a bundle. I announced my find as I picked it up. It was a burgundy, thick linen napkin. I unfolded the corners and found neatly folded and still clean a couple sandwiches cut into small squares. M asked T if they were the sandwiches she had made for him for lunch. He denied it, but I had a feeling he was lying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3942253078039620553?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3942253078039620553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3942253078039620553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3942253078039620553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3942253078039620553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/04/beer-run-and-unburying-sandwich.html' title='Beer Run and Unburying A Sandwich'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5004011497711609903</id><published>2009-04-22T11:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:06:44.308-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Trying To Get Ahead Of The Pack While Trying To Dodge Too Many Obstacles</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that I was trying to drive somewhere, possibly a sporting event. I was on a freeway and encountered a very long line of cars I knew were going to the same place as I. I needed to get as far ahead of everyone else as I could. I had a special ticket and I was supposed to be in front of them all. There were some other people driving on the shoulder of the road so I followed them. I knew most people would not take kindly to my trying to cut in front of them so I waved my ticket out of my window as I drove, taking care to not let it blow away in the wind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to get in front of a great deal of cars by the time I got to an intersection. The reason for the massive backup was construction. In order to get where I had to go, I was supposed to go straight through the intersection. The other side of the intersection was a two lane road, two directions. The construction crew was re-paving both lanes at once, instead of the usual paving one lane while swerving everyone over to the other side. My alternate to get to my destination was to turn right. Except that road was blocked off by construction equipment and torn up completely down to the dirt and sand. The road they were repaving still had wet asphalt we were expected to drive on. I asked a construction worker if I had any other alternatives to get to my destination. No, he told me. I asked him isn't it a bad idea to drive on wet asphalt? He said no, it would not hurt my car if I went slowly. Or, he told me, I could turn right and go around all the construction equipment and take that road. I had to make a decision because I knew the people behind me were getting impatient. I chose to drive straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was out of my car and I was pulling a very heavy box. The box was about 4 feet high and I was pulling on a rope that was attached to the box, each end on each side of the box. The box had wheels on the bottom. I was pulling the box through very deep sand/dirt. I tried pulling and walking as fast as I could in order to get as far ahead of the people behind me as I could. Naturally, as in all dreams I have, no matter how fast I thought I was going, the people behind me were right on my tail. If I stopped the first person behind me would bump into me. I kept thinking it might be faster if I sat on the box and started it's motor (Yeah, I don't know either), but that meant having to stop &amp;amp; the people behind me would pass me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized how ridiculous the whole thing was so I managed to make the box turn back into my car. While I walked beside my car and pushed I managed to reach in the window &amp;amp; get the car started. As fast as I could I jumped in &amp;amp; shifted it to drive &amp;amp; got going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I drove I had to keep dodging lots of construction obstacles. I desperately wanted the dream to end and to wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't wake up so I ended up in the backyard of the house where I grew up. I was in the garage looking for something. The garage in my dream was larger than it is in real life. In reality it is a one-car garage. In my dream it was a two-, possibly 2 &amp;amp; 1/2 car garage. I was trying to find something specific to give to a specific person except I don't know what I was looking for nor to whom was the recipient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the rest of the details are too fuzzy. I just remember someone approaching &amp;amp; telling me to take a break and offered to take me somewhere for something to eat. We walked a short distance and stopped in front of a small store that was part of a strip mall. We went inside where they sold ice cream, soft-frozen yogurt and various other food &amp;amp; beverages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't really remember what happened next, but I know I woke up shortly thereafter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5004011497711609903?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5004011497711609903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5004011497711609903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5004011497711609903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5004011497711609903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/04/trying-to-get-ahead-of-pack-while.html' title='Trying To Get Ahead Of The Pack While Trying To Dodge Too Many Obstacles'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-6830861597174018338</id><published>2009-04-19T11:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:04:10.998-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Trial and Seafood</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I was in a courtroom watching someone's trial. I'm relatively certain I was not a juror, that I was supposed to know the person on trial, but I don't know who it was. I'm also not sure what he or she was on trial for, but I know it was serious--possibly murder. The judge broke for lunch &amp;amp; I found myself in a store walking down an aisle. I was looking at table skirting, neatly folded on hangers, in plastic bags just like at the place where I used to work. They were hanging on hooks. An employee was changing some of the bags because they had gotten dirty. I offered to help. Then I got hungry and got into a line where food was being sold. I was behind a woman who looked a lot like Cameron Diaz. She could not decide what she wanted to order. She wanted fish, but all they had was fresh goldfish in a tank. It was like places where you look in a tank &amp;amp; pick out the lobster you want, they take it &amp;amp; cook it for you. It was the same thing for goldfish. I kept thinking that one would have to order many goldfish to just make an entree. The little fish were all different colors &amp;amp; the woman couldn't decide which color she wanted. The employee dumped all the fish onto the floor for her. I gave up and walked out of the store &amp;amp; back to the courtroom where the trial was about to resume. More people had arrived who wanted to watch the trial but had not been there during the morning. A man asked if all the seats had been occupied during the morning. I told him yes. He said he would stand in the back because he did not want to upset anyone by taking his or her seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-6830861597174018338?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/6830861597174018338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=6830861597174018338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6830861597174018338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6830861597174018338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/04/trial-and-seafood.html' title='A Trial and Seafood'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-2767649206253558445</id><published>2009-04-16T11:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:01:23.977-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Money, Blueberries and Shopping</title><content type='html'>First, I was in the bathroom of the house where I grew up, about to take a shower. There was a man in there who was supposed to be a boyfriend or husband, but he was breaking up with or divorcing me. He had a large stack of money that he was trying to put somewhere while he ran some errands. He didn't quite trust me. I didn't trust him either and I had a larger stack of cash. I set my stack on the floor behind the toilet &amp;amp; was about to get into the shower. He set his in the doorway. I asked him to move it so I could close the door, but he wouldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I had my stack of cash &amp;amp; was running through a very large room that had whit walls. I was headed towards the back, where I had a duffel bag in which to put my money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was outside and it was night time. There were lots of people around a bonfire. I sat down and someone handed me a large plastic disposable bowl that had in it a homemade fruit yogurt. I started eating some of it. It was vanilla flavored with lots of blueberries and strawberries. I love blueberries so I dug around in the yogurt with my spoon, sometimes eating the strawberries, but mostly going around them for more blueberries. In the meantime, a woman sitting next to me asked me if I should be eating it. My husband/boyfriend who was breaking up with me had made it &amp;amp; what if he poisoned it knowing I'd eat it. I said I had to hope for the best &amp;amp; kept digging for blueberries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was in a grocery store with a lot of other people from the bonfire. Everyone had their own shopping carts. I pushed mine around looking for specific things. First I went to the produce aisle and got either some fruit or I got vegetables, I'm not even sure which. Someone else from the bonfire was a foreigner &amp;amp; had no idea what to get so I took him around to see if anything looked appealing. He kept asking the prices on things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to the refrigerated dairy/butter/cheese section where I was looking for something else specific, but couldn't find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the details are really fuzzy and I woke up shortly thereafter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-2767649206253558445?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/2767649206253558445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=2767649206253558445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/2767649206253558445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/2767649206253558445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/04/money-blueberries-and-shopping.html' title='Money, Blueberries and Shopping'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5961376258202755047</id><published>2009-04-15T10:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T10:58:51.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Car &amp; Trying To Pee In A Garden</title><content type='html'>I dreamed that I had just woken up &amp;amp; had to go somewhere in a hurry. I got outside and found several people I know standing around my car. They wanted to go with me to wherever I had to get to. Somehow, my car was locked and they were waiting for me to unlock to get in, yet as I slept, they had managed to rearrange things in my car so that all my passenger seats were free of stuff. My car remote is such that pressing the unlock button once unlocks the driver's door. Pressing it a second time unlocks the rest of the doors. In my dream I pressed the button once, then tried pressing it a second time but JM had tried opening the passenger door at the same time so the rest of the doors did not unlock. I pressed it again, again at the same time JM pulled on the door handle. We were all in a hurry, we were supposed to be following someone who had just driven off. I suddenly got very angry and shouted at everyone. I said, "Now you all listen to me!" I then proceeded to explain how my car remote works. "You are not to go pulling on the door handle until I press the button a second time! DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at everyone all of whom were just staring at me. I realized I should not have gotten so angry and I apologized. I also realized that the person we were trying to follow was getting away. We all finally jumped into the car &amp;amp; I took off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were on a highway and my car was going way too fast. It became like a roller coaster. Sometimes I get a bird's eye view of my own car and the rest of traffic. It looked like one of those hotwheels or matchbox or whatever car tracks with 3 lanes. I kept mashing on the brakes, but my car would not slow down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was back at the house in which I grew up. I went out the door carrying a 17 inch TV which was not at all heavy. I set the TV on the porch, sat down, turned it on and proceeded to watch programs. I had to pee really bad. I stepped off the porch and squatted in the front garden next to it. There were people loitering on the sidewalk near the street watching me. Someone walked out of the house and asked me what I was doing. I told him I was trying to pee, but couldn't. He asked me why I didn't go back into the house, to the bathroom. I said I didn't think I had time before I peed my pants. But yet, there I was not able to pee, partially because I still had my sweatpants pulled up &amp;amp; I did not want to pee in them and partially because I really did not want to pee while all those people were looking at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the dream changed to something else that I have now forgotten in my attempt to remember the details of the other dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5961376258202755047?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5961376258202755047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5961376258202755047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5961376258202755047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5961376258202755047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-car-trying-to-pee-in-garden.html' title='My Car &amp; Trying To Pee In A Garden'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-6703961281681891323</id><published>2009-03-21T10:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T10:55:40.086-04:00</updated><title type='text'>School Dreams</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream about high school. This is by no means the first dream I've had. It's just the first time in a while that I remembered not only it, but it made me remember other dreams that I couldn't remember upon waking. In last night's dream, I dreamed I was in a class and I was starving. I had a bagel hidden in a large purse or it could have been my backpack. I kept sneaking it out &amp;amp; taking a bite of it, then drop it back in. Then class was over and it was time for lunch. Yeah, apparently I just couldn't wait. I left the class and went towards the cafeteria, except I could not go in. It was already packed inside &amp;amp; I had to wait in the hallway with a whole lot of other students. I was standing near a wall and still taking sneaking bites of my bagel only this time I'd managed to put some butter on it. I looked around &amp;amp; saw KR &amp;amp; MB loitering a few feet away so I headed towards them but then they disappeared into the crowd and I saw my older sister sitting on a couch in a corner that never existed in real life. She was not actually talking to any of the other people and I headed towards her, but there were so many students it took me time to get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I finally got to her, she stood up &amp;amp; said she was going outside so I followed her. Then I was outside. There were a bunch of people out there, too. I was headed toward where some cars were parked when I pretty much woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my dreams about the cafeteria, one of the "walls" is actually sections of safety glass in which one can walk down the hallway &amp;amp; be able to see in to the cafe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="cutid3"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Other dreams I've had concerning high school are ones in which I get to class &amp;amp; there is "pop" quiz. The questions are written on the blackboard and we have to write the answers on a piece of paper that is handed out to us. The whole time I can't keep my eyes open. I do everything I can to open them, first to read the question, then to write my answer. But I can't write while keeping the lids of both eyes propped open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Others include being in a classroom, the bell rings to indicate the end of the school day &amp;amp; I walk out &amp;amp; go looking for my locker. I end up at the top of the stairs in front of the front entrance. Everyone is headed out the doors. I have to make my way out &amp;amp; get on a bus, but there are so many people it takes me a long time. Once outside, I can't find the bus I'm supposed to be on. Sometimes I get on a bus, but I'm not sure if it's the right one. I ask someone where the bus goes. Sometimes it's where I'm supposed to go, other times it isn't &amp;amp; I have to get off &amp;amp; find the right one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all reminds me of another dream I just recently had that I couldn't remember upon waking. It also involved a school bus except I was the driver. I had just picked up a bunch of students from the side of a road and headed towards a school. I didn't know where the school was, but I was able to follow another bus. I turned left at an intersection, then turned right into the parking lot of the school. It was a small school &amp;amp; there was a wooded area on both sides of the bus. I pulled up to let the children off, but then I had to turn around to get back out onto the road. Except there was very little room to turn a full-size bus around so it took me time &amp;amp; other bus drivers were getting impatient because their students were going to end up late getting off by the time they could pull up to the doors. That is all I remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-6703961281681891323?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/6703961281681891323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=6703961281681891323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6703961281681891323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6703961281681891323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/03/school-dreams.html' title='School Dreams'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3647132756696142502</id><published>2009-03-18T10:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T10:53:38.982-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Zombie Dream &amp; A Dr. House Dream</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was in a large rundown house. I was sitting on a couch or cushioned chair listening to conversations. Suddenly I was fighting off a zombie who looked a whole lot like The Master in the first season of Buffy The Vampire Slayer. No, I have not been watching the show anytime recently. Zombie was albino white, not wearing a shirt, it's skin had lots of thick wrinkles, it's eyes were red and it had razor sharp teeth. My left hand was on it's right shoulder, my right hand had a hold of it's left forearm and I mostly could not take my eyes off it's mouth &amp;amp; teeth while I tried desperately to keep it from taking a huge chunk out of the right side of my neck. I kept screaming for someone to help me then I looked around &amp;amp; saw it was only me &amp;amp; zombie in the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I briefly woke up sweating &amp;amp; had to peel off my sweatpants. I immediately fell back to sleep and dreamed I was in a gym or fitness center locker room. There were other people (all fully dressed, as well as myself) maybe only about 5 or 6 people. I was talking to someone while attempting to find my locker &amp;amp; get my coat so I could leave. I finally found my locker, but my coat was not in it. I thought I had the wrong locker and asked a couple others. They all knew nothing about my missing coat. Dr. House was in the locker room (fully clothed) talking to a couple of the other people. He stopped talking and loudly said no one could leave until my coat was found. Some one asked what it looked like. I described it (black with a gray stripe, etc.). Someone took a black coat out of a locker &amp;amp; asked if it was mine. No, I said. The coat the person held up was made of a thinner nylon and had sections of black stitches in which one could tell it was filled with either down or polyester filler. A woman wearing business attire walked in and handed me a white, hardcover children's book, roughly 9 x 13 with only a dozen pages in it. I looked through it, then attempted to hand it back. She told me to keep it, I would be needing it. I didn't understand. I asked her how it would help find my coat. She told me it was inside. I opened the book again to the back cover. Folded inside and attached to the binding was a thin clear plastic folded-up coat. I had no idea how it was going to help me because I knew it was very cold outside. I just thanked her &amp;amp; said I still wanted my own coat back. The guy who had asked about the black coat he found was still holding it. House told me to just take that one. I thought the coat was rather ugly &amp;amp; didn't really want it, but I took it from the guy anyway. Then I pondered whether I should take the clear "coat" out of the book or save it for a rainy day (literally) when I woke up--still hot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3647132756696142502?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3647132756696142502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3647132756696142502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3647132756696142502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3647132756696142502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/03/zombie-dream-dr-house-dream.html' title='A Zombie Dream &amp; A Dr. House Dream'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3020441719206333990</id><published>2009-03-15T10:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T10:51:52.737-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mistake and Trying to Shower</title><content type='html'>In one dream I dreamed my brother-in-law had a tesla coil concert in a regular neighborhood. Everyone was either packing or unpacking everything. The extension cords needed to be straightened. I grabbed the end with the plug and pulled it straight except it was at least a 100 foot cord. I had pulled it over neighbors sitting on the sidewalk either in chairs or on beach towels on the sidewalk &amp;amp; whatnot &amp;amp; then had to pull it back to the coils. The neighbors were not to pleased &amp;amp; neither was J. I kept apologizing but no one was overly happy. Suddenly I was inside a house and the authorities (local police, state police, FBI, I'm not sure) was after me. I jumped out a window and ran. I ran through backyards &amp;amp; such until my back started hurting. I realized my back was hurting because I was laying on my stomach &amp;amp; my cat was laying on my back (I turned over &amp;amp; gently dumped the cat off me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I had a dream that I was in someone else's house where I spent the night. I wanted to clean the bathroom shower. Except it was one of those multiple several-people-can-take-a-shower-at-the-s&lt;div class="asset-body"&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;ame-time showers, kind of like at a fitness center or, well, a prison, like I've seen on TV. There were a whole lot of people in the house who had also spent the night there. I was talking to someone in particular when I realized I was pretty much the only one who had not yet showered that morning. I looked at myself &amp;amp; saw I was wearing satin pajamas &amp;amp; a robe. I still wanted to clean the shower before taking one but I felt the need to find a pair of shoes first. I went to an area where everyone's shoes were and sorted through them looking for mine. My boots were there but I also shifted through a milk crate filled with sandals &amp;amp; flip-flops. I finally found a pair of flips-flops that were allegedly mine except I don't really own a pair. I already had a sponge and bathroom cleaner and headed towards the shower area to start cleaning when I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3020441719206333990?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3020441719206333990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3020441719206333990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3020441719206333990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3020441719206333990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/03/mistake-and-trying-to-shower.html' title='A Mistake and Trying to Shower'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-806539942742942981</id><published>2009-03-06T10:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T10:49:38.334-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Trying to Close Up Shop</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream about the place where I used to work. I was trying to get things done and, as in many prior dreams, it was quitting time, but I seemed to have a million things I had to do before I could leave. Someone else was there with me but she had to leave on time. I had to go around the warehouse turning off lights, water, and close doors. Every time I went to the exit door, I'd notice another light on in another room. Then there was some kind of water leak in one room. I tried shutting off the water valve, but couldn't. I called TC the maintenance guy and he said he couldn't be over just then. Someone else came in &amp;amp; helped me stop the water. Then he left through one of roll up doors, but left it open as well as the light on in the area. So I had to turn the light back off &amp;amp; close the door. Except then the rest of the guys pulled up in trucks &amp;amp; said they had to either load or unload stuff. At first I was going to stay behind because I knew once they were finished they wouldn't turn off lights or close doors. I finally decided I didn't care. That was not my problem. So I left. And woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-806539942742942981?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/806539942742942981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=806539942742942981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/806539942742942981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/806539942742942981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/03/trying-to-close-up-shop.html' title='Trying to Close Up Shop'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3103673279421504426</id><published>2009-02-15T10:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T10:46:28.878-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Partial Nudity, a Bomb and a Ghost</title><content type='html'>I dreamed I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. I discovered some women's cosmetics in their original packaging, a couple partially opened, in the bathroom garbage can. I picked them out trying to figure out how they got there. Then the woman to whom they belonged walked into my room. I demanded to know how she got in. She said she managed to get a key card from the front desk. I got angry. Someone else came in asking what the commotion was &amp;amp; I told him. She said she knew someone else was staying in the room, but she thought she had the right to come in anyway. I told her just for that I shouldn't give her her make-up. It was in the garbage after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned back toward the bed and suddenly there was a second bed next to the first one. I wondered how it appeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I decided I really had to go to the bathroom and walked towards it. But found myself in what appeared to be a department store. I went back looking for my bed but couldn't find it. I walked passed rack after rack of clothing. I saw someone standing behind a desk and asked her where my bed was. She pointed in a direction &amp;amp; told me "that way". I kept walking and decided I had to go to the bathroom with more urgency so I looked for a restroom. I ended up in a bright room with white walls. There were a couple people in the room and lots of miscellaneous stuff. I grabbed a thing that had stainless steel rods that formed the shape of a square cube and sat on it as if it was a toilet &amp;amp; urinated. An ex-coworker pointed to the floor &amp;amp; told me I was making a mess. I told him I knew it, but I couldn't hold my urine any longer and that I would clean it up. After I was done I walked toward a mop &amp;amp; bucket. The ex-coworker went searching for another ex-coworker &amp;amp; showed him what I had done. Even though I was getting embarrassed I just shrugged &amp;amp; started cleaning up. Then I realized I was only wearing a white blouse &amp;amp; it was not actually long enough to cover my privates very well. I dropped the mop &amp;amp; went back out to the department store section to find some underwear &amp;amp; pants to put on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was suddenly wearing pants and I saw a crowd had gathered in one area. I walked up &amp;amp; asked a person what was going on. He or She told me that someone had put a bomb there and there was discussion as to how to either diffuse it or get rid of it so no one got hurt. Unfortunately, it was impossible. Then it was discovered that if anyone at all moved, it would explode. Somehow people started escaping in pairs. It was down to 4 people. 2 of them decided to stay even though at that point the bomb would explode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to get to an escalator as unobtrusively as I could when the bomb did explode. Then a guy who was the last of the 2 people left behind went stumbling down the escalator. Then I saw the girl who was the last of them to start down the escalator. She was all dirty &amp;amp; appeared disoriented. I looked closer at her &amp;amp; she seemed to nearly disappear, then reappear. I realized the woman had died in the blast &amp;amp; it was her spirit I was looking at, and that she didn't realize she had died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3103673279421504426?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3103673279421504426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3103673279421504426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3103673279421504426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3103673279421504426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/02/partial-nudity-bomb-and-ghost.html' title='Partial Nudity, a Bomb and a Ghost'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-956258609563939038</id><published>2009-01-18T10:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T10:43:55.178-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Performers</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I was in a large banquet room. It was mostly filled with lots of metal folding chairs, either black or dark grey, I can't quite remember now. The room itself had dark brown wood walls and a very large rug covering most of the dark brown hardwood floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was standing off to one side where there were theater-type seats for an audience and I was leaning against the railing. Most of a group of friends were there standing on the floor, off to the side of the chairs, roughly 30 feet from me, partially facing me. You were all holding batons and trying to practice a choreographed dance routine. "Opening night" was that night and no one had had a chance to practice. JKR  and JR were in the front of the group, JKR seemed to know the routine the best. I watched for a few minutes then suggested that perhaps since JKR seemed to know the routine the best, perhaps she should stand even more towards the front of the group and everyone else watch her &amp;amp; take the cues from her. I noticed that while several peoples' batons were exactly the same, not everyones' batons were. At least one person had one longer &amp;amp; thinner than the rest. After a few more minutes of practicing, jennlk was suddenly holding a saxophone and began to play a solo. Except she wasn't blowing with her mouth, she held the mouthpiece against her larynx and hummed and music came out of the saxophone. Lol yeah JKR not only can you dance like no one's business, but you can play a sax with your larynx! *throws hands up &amp;amp; shakes head* That was when I decided it was probably time to wake up. So I did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-956258609563939038?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/956258609563939038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=956258609563939038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/956258609563939038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/956258609563939038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/01/performers.html' title='Performers'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3635114111344425906</id><published>2009-01-10T10:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T10:29:18.453-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fending of Alligators</title><content type='html'>I dreamed I was at a gas station filling up my car’s gas tank. The gas pump stopped after only a couple of gallons, which I knew, was wrong. My tank was nearly empty when I started. A man who was nearby filling up a container with gas showed me something on the gas nozzle to make it keep filling up my tank. I thanked him. Suddenly he disappeared leaving his pump filling up his container. His finally stopped and he was nowhere to be seen. I was afraid the gas was going to overflow so I stopped it and put the nozzle back where it goes on the pump. I then finished filling my own tank and replaced the nozzle on the pump. The man reappeared and I told him his container was filled so I put the gas nozzle back. He thanked me and I went inside the gas station. I saw standing in line JM &amp;amp; said hi. He told me JN was outside in their truck. I looked out &amp;amp; he was standing near a red pickup truck. JM told me they were on their way to see something &amp;amp; invited me along. He told me to leave my car and I could ride with them. I was wearing dress pants, a blouse &amp;amp; dress shoes and wanted to change into jeans and a t-shirt or sweatshirt so I got them from my car and got into the pickup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was in the truck and we went to some cliffs that overlooked a lake or ocean. JM got out of the truck and went towards a group of people to talk to them. I stood behind the pickup, took off my blouse &amp;amp; pants, and was still wearing a bra, panties, and nylons when JM walked from the group of people to the cliffs and looked over. He saw a bunch of alligators and called the attention of both JN &amp;amp; myself. I walked over to look at them. I asked if they were alligators or crocodiles, JM told me they were alligators. The alligators walked towards me opening their mouths. I backed away from them wondering why they looked like they all wanted to eat me. There was a chafing dish food pan laying on the ground nearby so I grabbed it and used it like a shield but the ‘gators kept coming towards me. I jumped into the bed of the pickup truck but I could not get away from the ‘gators. JN jumped into the bed of the pickup and tried helping get the ‘gators away from me. He grabbed the food pan from me and tried swinging it at them but they were still approaching. I realized I was still in my underwear and tried looking around for the clothes I wanted to put on. JN noticed I looked embarrassed &amp;amp; was trying to cover myself up. I wouldn’t be seen in my underwear around people I’ve known for years &amp;amp; I had only really known these guys for roughly a month &amp;amp; there I was standing in my underwear trying to fend off alligators. He tried covering me up with his body as much as he could while trying to hold back the ‘gators when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3635114111344425906?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3635114111344425906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3635114111344425906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3635114111344425906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3635114111344425906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/01/fending-of-alligators.html' title='Fending of Alligators'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8527800539999087143</id><published>2009-01-09T10:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T10:39:42.850-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Twilighty Dream</title><content type='html'>I was in a restaurant, very crowded lots of dark browns; the lighting was somewhat dark. I was walking along between booths when someone ahead of me stopped to talk to a girl who looked a lot like Bella in Twilight at one of the booths. She was sitting across from a guy who looked a lot like Edward in Twilight. She stood up to hug the guy who stopped to talk to her. While hugging, the guy suddenly bit down on her neck. Blood poured from the wound. I couldn’t tell if he was drinking her blood or trying to eat her neck. The Edward looking guy got up. The guy who was eating or drinking from the girl had his back to Edward looking guy. The Edward looking guy plunged a stake into the back of vampire/zombie guy. I couldn’t tell if the stake was wood, iron, or some other metal &amp;amp; I'm not sure if Edward looking guy hit his heart or not. He then grabbed the girl’s arm, ran up to me, and asked me if I could help them escape. I turned around and we ran out of the restaurant towards a bike I had sitting right outside the front door. Sometimes the bike changed to a bicycle sometimes it was a motorcycle. The guy put the girl on and sat down behind her. I grabbed the bike with the both of them on it and picked it up and half carried it down a bunch of cement steps. Someone else standing near me had asked how I was going to carry the bike along with the 2 people anywhere. I told him that because now both people were dead (undead actually) they didn’t weigh anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I carried them down the steps and found myself on a grassy hill. I rode the bike (with the Bella looking girl and the Edward looking guy still sitting on it) down the hill halfway. There, there were a large white plastic sections of seats. The section was roughly 15 x 15. To enter, there was a kind of gate that opened from the white plastic waist-high “wall” that surrounded the entire thing. Inside were white plastic folding chairs on which people sat. It was mostly filled with people already sitting. Standing right in front of me was a couple, very rich and famous but I don’t know who they were. They went into the seating area and sat down near the center of it. Towards the front was a woman who looked a lot like Charisma Carpenter (played Cordelia in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel). She sat with a small table in front of her. On the table were several sheets of paper. There were people who kept walking up, they would get in front of me and tell CC looking girl their names and she would check the sheets of paper and tell them if they could sit with wealthy couple or if they had to sit further down the hill in another section of seats. I stood there waiting to ask if I could pass on down the hill. There was going to be some sort of show or concert starting that everyone was being seated for. The Edward looking guy told me to not wait. More &amp;amp; more people just kept stepping in front of us for their seating assignments. I was afraid that if I continued on, someone would say something to me. I finally just walked the bike down the hill and we were completely ignored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all I can remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8527800539999087143?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8527800539999087143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8527800539999087143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8527800539999087143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8527800539999087143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2009/09/twilighty-dream.html' title='A Twilighty Dream'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-6408285363008230941</id><published>2008-12-23T10:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T10:28:46.891-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anxiety &amp; Singing About Chocolate</title><content type='html'>I dreamed I was taking the clinical part of the Nursing Assistant test but I had not, in fact, had time to review anything. I had, in fact, just been "thrown to the wolves". I did not recall even calling to make the appointment, all of a sudden I was just there picking from a hat the 3 duties I'd perform. Unlike in real life, in the dream I was with 2 other testers and unlike the other 2 I was the only one who remembered to knock on the resident's door before entering. That was the only thing I could remember to do. Then the dream switched to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I was in a school gymnasium, either elementary, middle (junior), or high school. I was a part of a chorus (chorale?) giving a concert to the students. Also included was min8ive who stood to my right. We were all standing right on the floor, not any kind of stage or risers or anything and the entrance to the gym was behind us, the audience sat on the floor in front of us. my sister &amp;amp; I and a bunch of other people were on the right side of the room (from our POV) while other people who included an aunt I just got a Christmas card from and the mean egg donor were way over on the left. A song we were getting ready to sing involved the 2 of them as well as several other singers walking in from the entrance and lining up. I was taken aback to see the mean egg donor and hoped she wouldn't see me at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed people noise coming from behind and wondered if the doors would be closed, I looked behind me &amp;amp; saw the entrance doorway had been removed, it being portable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the song started and I suddenly had a chunk of chocolate in my hand and started belting out a song about how the chocolate was ok, but this other chocolate (that my sister handed me: it was smoother, creamier, slightly darker than what I had. I had some that was lighter in color and had all kinds of small air pockets. I broke it in half so I could hand her back the other half but it was quite thick and hard, like it had been in a refrigerator but it was not at all cold and it wouldn't break fast enough) tasted much better. Everyone took a bite of their chocolate and held it up singing about how yummy it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, I then woke up. Kind of wanting some plain chocolate. Wish I knew what kind that was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-6408285363008230941?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/6408285363008230941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=6408285363008230941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6408285363008230941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6408285363008230941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/12/anxiety-singing-about-chocolate.html' title='Anxiety &amp; Singing About Chocolate'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-1704001928751617970</id><published>2008-12-19T19:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T19:19:44.638-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams of Parties</title><content type='html'>I dozed off this afternoon and had a dream that I was supposed to go to a party my Aunt C was giving in honor of one of her kids. my younger sister, L, did not want to go because the egg donor was going to be there. I said I was going but was going to ignore her. Then I arrived and saw her sitting with my Aunt C and realized she was probably telling her all kinds of lies about us. We sat down at a table as far away as possible. It turned out the party was already beginning to come to a close because people had begun to leave. I waved to my Aunt C and L. &amp;amp; I left. We went to KN's house where a semgs gathering was going on. His fiance T had gotten a box of something from somewhere and set it on a kitchen counter. KW showed up and I stood talking to her for a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went off to talk to someone else and I suddenly decided to dye my hair. I got everything I needed and suddenly realized I did not want to do it at someone elses house. I proceeded to put everything back away. In the meantime T had taken out of the box the stuff to perm someone's hair. I went into another room and started talking to other people when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-1704001928751617970?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/1704001928751617970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=1704001928751617970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1704001928751617970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1704001928751617970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/12/dreams-of-parties.html' title='Dreams of Parties'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5061154301325020467</id><published>2008-12-19T11:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T11:19:38.999-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Talking Cats, Murdering Rats and a Mass Murderer</title><content type='html'>Early this morning I had a dream that I was in a basement and saw a mouse running around. I chased it into the garage. I had the impression I was in the garage of the house where my maternal grandparents lived on Oakman in Detroit while I was growing up. The garage was packed with lots of stuff. I debated leaving the mouse but I kept hearing noises. I suddenly had my maglite flashlight in my hand, turned it on and looked around. I saw a couple large black cats sitting watching me. I was about to head back into the house when more cats appeared and they spoke to me. They told me I had to get rid of the mouse because it was dangerous. I saw the mouse dart out from a hiding place &amp; run to another and it had grown to a rat nearly the size of the large cats watching me. A couple cats ran after the rat and managed to get it out of the hiding place into the open. I ran to it and, wearing my leather work gloves, I grabbed it &amp; pressed it into the ground by it's neck trying to figure out what to do. It bared it's sharp teeth and squirmed trying to get away from me telling me it had to kill me. I looked around to see if there was any kind of container within reach to put the rat into. Suddenly there was a small saw in my hand and a cat sitting nearby told me I would have to kill the rat in order for it to not kill others. The cat had a relatively deep voice, btw, and spoke slowly and calmly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was pressing the serated end of the saw blade into the rat's neck being a little squeamish at first but knew I had to finish the job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then someone else walked into the garage and noticed what I was doing and the rat was dead and I was forced to go back into the house. Except the house was suddenly very large warehouse type building and there were at least a hundred or so people standing around scared. I asked what was going on. Someone told me that the man who had escorted me into the building was going to kill us all but did not know how. I looked all around the building and found that people could hide and escape through certain walls behind huge shelves. I started pointing people towards them. As they climbed through, I suddenly had a bird's eye POV near the ceiling 100 feet above and saw the killer taking people into a large room that I could not see the interior of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was just 30 feet above the floor, sitting on a wooden chair with only the front two legs of the chair balancing on some of the shelving people were climbing to escape. There were just too many people and they couldn't get out fast enough. Someone was balancing on the shelf below me and holding one of the back legs of the chair I was sitting in. I climbed out of the chair and told the man it was not necessary to hold it for me, but he insisted. I was the one leading everyone to safety and he was trying to protect me. I knew the chair was an inconvenience and wondered why it was in my dream and why I was sitting in it and I was trying to figure out how the man could get rid of it without alerting the killer and I continued to climb and I watched other people trying to climb as fast as they could so the people on the floor below could escape when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5061154301325020467?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5061154301325020467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5061154301325020467' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5061154301325020467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5061154301325020467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/12/talking-cats-murdering-rats-and-mass.html' title='Talking Cats, Murdering Rats and a Mass Murderer'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-6889770324604922136</id><published>2008-12-14T11:26:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T11:26:05.675-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In The Park, On a Fire Engine, In a Building</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was going shopping with MB, HS, and RK. All of their kids ran off to do their own shopping (except HS has a toddler so idk). HS said it wasn't worth shopping without their kids. I suddenly got the impression she meant people without kids were worthless and I snapped at her, told her none of it was my fault and turned and walked away trying to keep from crying. MB came after me &amp;amp; told me that wasn't what HS meant then asked if I wanted to go in on a pizza. Suddenly there was a pizza on a table in front of me and MB was pouring Ranch dressing all over her share. I was still angry and sad and I declined and walked away. We started out at a strip mall under the shelter. I walked out into the open where there was a large park where people were just laying on the grass or walking around a large pond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I encountered another girl who just started talking to me. I couldn't understand most of what she was saying but I just nodded and conversed back. The pond was on my right and suddenly a ginormous cruise ship pulled up to the side of the pond. I looked up and saw the Captain standing there on the deck. He looked at me and nodded. The girl next to me thought he was hot so I decided to try to set them up together even though I did not know either of their names. The Captain jumped down from the huge cruise ship (jumped. as in a few hundred feet) and walked away. I grabbed the girl's arm and followed him. He walked towards a huge set of risers, the metal/aluminum kind seen at outdoor events like high school football fields or public parks with a baseball diamond. The Captain climbed all the way to the top before I could get his attention. He remained standing &amp;amp; suddenly had a pair of binoculars he looked through, like other people around him. He leaned forward as did several other people standing around him. I noticed they were all leaning forward way too far and before I had a chance to shout up to them, they all went tumbling down the risers knocking over the people in front of them. They all stood back up and climbed back to their seats unharmed. I could not believe it. The girl next to me was so busy talking and looking elsewhere she asked me how everyone ended up at the bottom. "They leaned too far forward," I replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw a couple of older people, in their late 60's or their 70's, on the bottom seats having some trouble. I walked over to them and asked if they were ok. The woman was having trouble sitting up. I touched her arm and she yelled out in pain. She said everything hurt and she needed to go to the hospital. I thought, "Lawsuit. She is going to sue the pants off everyone she can."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was in a fire engine with someone else who was not the girl and the engine was racing towards the top of a hill, but we had to go in a spiral fashion to get there. There were occasional crowds of people in the way, at one point there was construction going on. In a park. On a hill. The construction crew moved in one direction while the fire engine driver swerved in the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to the top of the hill only to find other emergency vehicles and no fire. The driver was not too happy. He said something about it costing whoever called $500 if it ended up being a false alarm and he knew the company could not afford it. He started to turn around and head back down the hill but I wanted to stay so I jumped out. I walked toward another building and walked inside. There were some people standing or wandering around. I tried to eavesdrop on conversations as to why emergency vehicles were called. Someone said something about thinking he/she saw smoke and thought the place was on fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wandered through the building. It was just a shell made completely of 2 x 4's, most of them set vertically side by side to form the walls. There was small rooms and tiny closet or other storage spaces. I looked into each one looking for a hiding space of some sort in which someone had hidden an object that I was suddenly looking for specifically. Someone asked me what I was looking for. I replied that it was something my (maternal) grandfather said he hid in that building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-6889770324604922136?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/6889770324604922136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=6889770324604922136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6889770324604922136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6889770324604922136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/12/in-park-on-cruise-ship-in-building.html' title='In The Park, On a Fire Engine, In a Building'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3585568977515660523</id><published>2008-12-08T10:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T10:10:57.648-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Working and Partying</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that I was back where I used to work...again. *sigh* The place was a mess. It was very busy. One ex coworker was not there doing her job. I was asked to take back some equipment in her place. The customers asked me if I was the only one working there. Yes, I said. The customers looked around. I explained that normally someone else was there (the woman they saw when they picked the tableskirting up) but that I did not know why she wasn't there. I took back the tableskirts and had another customer bring more back. Once I finished, I called up to my (now ex) boss to tell him who returned what, but suddenly I couldn't keep them straight. One of them had returned x lavender skirts and n beige or ivory while the other customer had returned m beige or ivory and y lavender (m, n, x, y each = 3 or 5 but I can't remember in which order).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was in a large hotel walking through the hallway of one of the floors. I walked into a room that had construction going on and picked up a dark gray metal case. It had a camcorder and supplies in it. I was already carrying a light colored, white or ivory box. I left the room and walked down the hall to an elevator, pressed the button, the doors opened and I stepped in. The elevator was very large, the kind seen in a hospital that is used to transfer patients in gurneys from floor to floor. At first I thought someone else was standing in the elevator, but I looked again and saw the walls of the elevator were decorated and there was a lifelike person painted on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked for the # floor buttons to press an appropriate one, but there was none. Suddenly there was a person standing there and she told me I was on the top floor the elevator could only go down. I ended up in the lobby where a big Christmas party was in the final stages of being prepared. Guests would be arriving any moment. There was a huge green decorated Christmas tree in the center and 60" or 72 " round tables were set up all around it, with white linen tablecloths.  Someone in authority was setting up a table with fluted champagne glasses he was in the process of filling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I retreated back to the elevator to go back up, but I ended up at a regular smaller people standing in it size. I got in and pressed the button for the top floor, but it was for a floor higher than I was previously on. I had realized I'd forgotten my bag of clothes so I pressed the button of the floor where I started out. I got off and went back to the room where workers were working on the room. I went in then wondered how I was going to carry everything to my new room. I was suddenly afraid to leave stuff there to make 2 trips and also didn't want to leave the camera equipment anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was secretly told to take pictures and videos all night of a certain guest who would be showing up at the party soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3585568977515660523?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3585568977515660523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3585568977515660523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3585568977515660523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3585568977515660523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/12/working-and-partying.html' title='Working and Partying'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-4850355419206336213</id><published>2008-08-29T11:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T11:18:25.543-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Supernatural Dream</title><content type='html'>I had another &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0460681/"&gt;Supernatural&lt;/a&gt; dream last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew Sam and Dean from a previous case. They had saved my life when some nutjob was going around hacking into people's blogs and making lists of things people are scared of, then the nutjob would kill people via the things on the lists. I was a computer expert and I was next but SamnDean saved me. Except Sam &amp;amp; I kind of sort of fell in love a little bit (we had sex).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, in this dream, I went to investigate weird goings on in a tiny town. I forget how I came to know about it. But people were disappearing and reappearing. I called Sam on his cell phone and asked them to meet me in the town, except I only got his voice mail and left a message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking around and noticed that everyone had again disappeared. It was like a ghost town. Then I was just watching like on TV Sam &amp;amp; Dean's scenes. They were driving around looking for me, but couldn't find me. Dean wondered if Sam had gotten the name of the town wrong, or I had solved the problem and left. There were people around and they didn't see anything unusual. Sam said something wasn't quite right and while Dean wanted to leave, Sam didn't. So Dean agreed to poke around some more. Then I saw them from my me in the dream POV and walked over to them and started talking. They seemed to not see me at all. I panicked and started yelling, to no avail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They drove off and went to the sheriff's office and talked to him. He denied that anything was wrong in the town. Said he didn't know anything about people disappearing for lengths at a time and had never seen anyone matching my description. SamnDean left the sheriff and went back to the spot where they were before. It was a big open space with a large pond and powdery light colored dirt, almost like sand but more powdery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had pretty much been following them on foot. I started yelling some more while Sam&amp;amp;Dean discussed what to do. Again Dean wanted to leave, Sam wanted to stay, had a feeling something had happened to me and the sheriff was lying. So Dean asked where they should start. They were standing near the car thinking and I was yelling and screaming. I waved my hand in front of Sam's face and yelling. Sam could kind of sense me but he wasn't sure what it was. I was scared and felt like crying. Sam&amp;amp;Dean got back into the car. I jumped on the hood, which they felt, but didn't know what it was. I breathed out on the windshield and formed condensation onto it which Sam&amp;amp;Dean saw. I saw them react. So I breathed again and started writing words onto it before it faded. First I wrote "Help". Sam called out my name asking if it was me. Suddenly I had a towel in my hand and I would wipe the windshield before the next words so it wouldn't get jumbled. The next word I wrote was yes. Sam kept asking me questions and I would try to answer. Dean&amp;amp;Sam got out of the car as I was doing this. Soon I discovered I could write in the powdery dirt and they could see it. Sam asked if I knew what happened to me. Dean thought I must be dead. I somehow knew it was a parallel world which I wrote. They asked if I knew how I got there. I did not. Then I saw the sheriff and someone else approaching me. I wrote sheriff in the dirt, Sam&amp;amp; Dean couldn't see him which meant he was in the parallel world. I wrote that I had to hide. Sam told me they would figure out how to get me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sheriff managed to grab me and drag me away. Then he knocked me unconscious. When I came to, I was handcuffed to a shower curtain rod in a bathroom. I was trying to escape when some people heard me and made me drink from a 9 oz. Old Fashioned shaped plastic cup that had clear liquid in it. Tasted like some kind of alcohol. I passed out and woke up again handcuffed to a bed. The cup with more liquor in it was on a table next to a bed. I found out it was moonshine the sheriff and the rest of the townspeople were making. They discovered that by drinking it they ended up in a parallel world that was supposed to be so much better than the real world because no one knew about it so it was quieter. Except things were getting out of control. They were addicted to the moonshine and to going to the parallel world. They hadn't counted on an outsider passing through and noticing people disappearing, nor did they realize that someone would call me. When I snooped around they thought they could get rid of me by forcing me to drink the moonshine and thought I would disappear forever. They had assumed that I was never able to make contact with Sam&amp;amp;Dean. I managed to get myself free and had decided to find where the moonshine still was. In the meantime, Sam&amp;amp;Dean were still trying to figure out how I'd gotten to the parallel world. They didn't yet know about the moonshine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They went back to the sheriff's to snoop around while he was gone (looking for me) when they found the recipe for the moonshine. Sam looked at it and commented that some of the ingredients were pretty potent stuff and used by earlier Native Americans because they thought they could control their future or some such thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They found a small bottle of it &amp;amp; drank some of it and ended up in the parallel world and went looking for me. They found a house where the rest of the townspeople were gathered and went in armed and demanded to know where I was. The people lied to Sam&amp;amp;Dean and said I went to the pond to drown myself. They lied and said I was permanently stuck in the world and didn't want to live like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They rushed to the pond. but couldn't find me because I was at the warehouse where the  moonshine was being made and I planned to blow it up.  Except I thought I was going to have to blow myself up, too. Somehow Sam&amp;amp;Dean found me and Sam pleaded with me to not kill myself. He told me that he cared about me more than he would ever be able to show and that he wanted us to be friends forever because the three of us needed each other. They needed me for my computer skills, I needed them to investigate cases like this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They wired the explosives I had so that it could be planted inside the building yet we had time to get out. Then the townspeople were coming after us and Dean blew up the building when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-4850355419206336213?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/4850355419206336213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=4850355419206336213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4850355419206336213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4850355419206336213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/08/supernatural-dream.html' title='A Supernatural Dream'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-2047556598289819884</id><published>2008-08-17T12:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T12:37:18.536-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting to Eat</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed I was in the gas station parking lot next to where I used to work. There were large plastic bins sitting there with lots of children's toys. I went into the gas station to buy something. When I went back out, everyone was looking for the baby that was with us. (S)he had disappeared. I could hear him/her buried in one of the plastic bins of toys. The bins were stacked on top of each other so I had to take each one down to determine which one the baby was in. I finally found him/her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was suddenly in a large building where lots of families were staying, like a shelter. I approached one of the families, who were laying on bunk beds. The mother was talking about how hungry she was. All the families had to use a lottery system in order to eat because there was only one small kitchen and this family had not eaten for days. This family had "won". I helped them make lots of eggs, bacon, and toast. By the time it was all done and they had eaten, I was hungry and asked if there was any left. They had eaten it all. I figured I would just wait until I helped the next family who cold cook their food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up...Kind of craving eggs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-2047556598289819884?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/2047556598289819884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=2047556598289819884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/2047556598289819884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/2047556598289819884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/08/waiting-to-eat.html' title='Waiting to Eat'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-4917900141060722311</id><published>2008-08-16T12:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T12:50:16.572-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Date?</title><content type='html'>I dreamed I was on a bus but I don't know where we were going. The bus stopped and the driver told us that other people would arrive to take us to another destination. A man came and got me. We stepped off the bus and I saw a drug store nearby and I was thirsty so I asked if we could go in so I could buy a bottle of water. He agreed. We got my bottle of water and waited in line so I could pay for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was standing at a small banquet table where 2 people sat. I handed the woman a piece of paper with an order for a pizza and some pop for me and the man I was with. The woman looked at the paper, at me and told me I had to get a parent's signature for the pizza because I looked younger than 18.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me?!?" I asked incredulously. "I'm 42 freakin' years old and you're telling my I need a parent's signature?!?" I would have gotten out my driver license except I realized I didn't happen to have it in my purse. I had left it in a smaller pack I sometimes carry with me instead of my purse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman looked at me, at my graying hair and apologized. I was angry and snatched the paper from her and told her never mind, I didn't want pizza anyway. (Ok, I have no idea why pizza can not be purchased by anyone under the age of 18 in my dream). The man and I left. He asked me if there was somewhere else I'd like to go to get some food. No, I told him, let's just get to where we are supposed to be. It was dark out and we walked along a grassy field and got to a large canopy. There was supposed to be a very large crowd, with many of the people being those I was on the bus with and the companions who had come for them. Instead there were very few people and the ones who were there were folding the tables and chairs and stacking them into neat piles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man I was with offered to take me back to the bus or take me home. He thought we were on a date but I was not at all attracted to him so I asked him to take me to the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-4917900141060722311?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/4917900141060722311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=4917900141060722311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4917900141060722311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4917900141060722311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/08/date.html' title='A Date?'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8830910107675086505</id><published>2008-08-15T12:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T12:58:47.224-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnant With Chicken Pox</title><content type='html'>I dreamed I was about 6 or 7 months pregnant and I had chicken pox. I was not worried about the side effects of the chicken pox on the baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had walked to a store. Upon my return, I saw several emergency vehicles parked near where I lived. It was a few yards away with a grassy median separating where I was standing and the house or apartment where I lived. I tried to get closer, but was told by an emergency response guy that I could not go closer. He looked at me, noticed I was pregnant and was about to ask about the rash on my face. I told him I knew I had chicken pox (I believe I was in the final stage of it).  The man, who looked a whole lot like Jensen Ackles, asked me if I knew where the father of my baby was. I told him I did not even know who it was. The JA lookalike offered to help me raise my baby. I did not know this guy so I told him it was not necessary, but he insisted. I started taking him up on his offer when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8830910107675086505?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8830910107675086505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8830910107675086505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8830910107675086505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8830910107675086505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/08/pregnant-with-chicken-pox.html' title='Pregnant With Chicken Pox'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8258192473768086185</id><published>2008-08-14T12:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T13:05:12.323-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Filming</title><content type='html'>I dreamed I was helping film something for a TV show. I was in a red pick-up truck with the driver and a couple other people, but the truck broke down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I and 2 other people were in the back of the cab. The driver got out and opened the hood. The camera guy wanted to get videos of the driver fixing his truck except we the passengers were showing up through the windshield in the shot. So we had to try to slide down the seat and cover ourselves with a tarp. I was behind the driver's side next to the window. Suddenly my sinus closed up on me and I couldn't breathe. I wanted to get out but the camera guy couldn't stop filming. I started breathing louder and louder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up because I couldn't breathe through my nose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8258192473768086185?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8258192473768086185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8258192473768086185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8258192473768086185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8258192473768086185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/08/filming.html' title='Filming'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-9085118058253663909</id><published>2008-05-30T11:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T11:44:08.642-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I was supposed to be somewhere but the event/function was canceled. So I walked/jogged/ran to the house where I grew up. I was going there for a reason, but once I woke up I couldn't remember what the reason was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to google maps I live 12.4 miles from where I grew up. In the dream, I remember suddenly being on Beech Daly Rd heading north. I got to Grand River and waited for the traffic signal to red for eastbound traffic so I could cross. There were a couple other people standing there too. I then got across both east and west bound GR and headed west. I was several blocks away from the street where I grew up when I realized I couldn't do what I set out to do because I hadn't taken my purse (I usually don't whenever I walk anywhere) and all my keys were in my purse. I thought I should head all the back home, but that would be too time consuming so I decided to keep going and figure out what to do once I got to my destination. I was about a block away from the street when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-9085118058253663909?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/9085118058253663909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=9085118058253663909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/9085118058253663909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/9085118058253663909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/05/walking.html' title='Walking'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3685104409964707630</id><published>2008-05-27T11:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T11:42:20.477-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Earrings</title><content type='html'>Last night, I had a dream I was at my former workplace getting ready to leave for the day when I saw an earring back laying on the ground. I bent to pick it up wondering where the earring itself was. I saw it on the floor a couple inches away. I picked it up, then saw more earrings and earring backs. I kept trying to pick them up, but they seemed to be multiplying. Other times, because I was picking them up with the same hand that held the ones I had already picked up, I kept dropping something. I got stuck in a loop of constantly trying to pick them up when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3685104409964707630?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3685104409964707630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3685104409964707630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3685104409964707630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3685104409964707630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/05/earrings.html' title='Earrings'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5323110716807840775</id><published>2008-05-23T11:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T11:36:00.206-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Swimming, Cars and Murder</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was in an olympic size swimming pool. I and several other people were in one end. Some were sitting on the edge with their feet in the water. I wanted to swim the width of the pool as opposed to the length because everyone was having a very interesting conversation and I wanted to continue to listen. Every time I started across, someone who was swimming the length would suddenly be there.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then I was suddenly outside the place where I previously worked. I was standing on the side street that is immediately east of the building that is on the south side of the road. Someone had stolen a car and was racing down the street. I was standing in the middle of the street and jumped out of the way. A police officer was there as well and jumped into his car and took off after the car.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then there were other people standing around and, again, they were conversing about something. At first everyone else's vehicles were parked on the side of the road, but then they all disappeared. Someone thought all the cars had been stolen. TC, the manager at the place, walked a few feet and saw his car right where he had parked it: on the grass, parallel to the building, just inches from it. Then I saw a huge theater screen attached to the building and a movie or TV show was playing on it. Then someone who looked a lot like John Barrowman grabbed me and shoved me against the building. He asked if I had anything to do with the death of his wife. I told him no. He kept me pressed to the building and got in my face and yelled at me to look into his eyes and tell him again. I first looked behind him where there were several people standing there quietly looking at me. I was thinking that while I did not kill this man's wife, I knew who had. The person, who looked a lot like Burn Gorman, was standing back there looking at me. I looked back into the eyes of the man who had me pinned to the building and I told him I did not kill his wife. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5323110716807840775?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5323110716807840775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5323110716807840775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5323110716807840775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5323110716807840775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/05/swimming-cars-and-murder.html' title='Swimming, Cars and Murder'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8665107221774233933</id><published>2008-05-13T11:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T11:30:26.160-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hungry?</title><content type='html'>Last night's dream was more disturbing than the previous ones. Not even sure quite what prompted it. I was hungry???&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I dreamed I was in someone's house along with lots of other people. Quite a few of us were trapped in cages, the tall, narrow kind where you are forced to remain standing, possibly made of bamboo. I was trying to secretly cut or break my way out.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The owner of the house, the one keeping us hostage had been sleeping in his bedroom. He woke up and came to the living room where we were. I was on the far side of the room. He walked to the nearer person, reached into the cage and pulled her close to him. It looked like he was going to kiss her, but started &lt;i&gt;eating her face&lt;/i&gt;. She screamed for a minute.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Suddenly his gray hair became what looked almost like immobile snakes all over his head. He finished his....meal...and smacked his lips around his big, sharp teeth saying he was still hungry. He headed right for me.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;As he reached in to try to grab me by my head, I suddenly had some kind of bamboo or other strong wooden pole and jabbed it at him through the bars. I kept doing that while still trying to get the cage open and the other people started shouting when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8665107221774233933?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8665107221774233933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8665107221774233933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8665107221774233933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8665107221774233933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/05/hungry.html' title='Hungry?'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3961248506577584890</id><published>2008-05-12T11:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T11:33:00.229-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Laundry</title><content type='html'>I can only remember bits and pieces from last night's dream. I walked into a laundry mat carrying a large black garbage bag filled with my laundry. I looked around and saw the place was filled with people doing laundry. I should have realized it would be, it being a Saturday.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I looked around to find a couple available washers. I saw 2 and headed towards them, but a woman told me someone else was going to use them. I figured that someone wasn't there, so I would, but I realized I had no quarters or laundry detergent. I decided I would try to wait until a week day when I thought there would be fewer people. Except I realized I was wearing the last of my clean clothes.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then I walked into a bathroom. Just like the ones where I used to work. Those bathrooms were always so disgusting. I would clean the one I used the most, but otherwise I quit cleaning the rest of them. No sooner would I clean them when everyone else would troop into them and come out with the bathrooms looking like a mini tornado had blown through them as well as a small village full of people with dysentery. At work there were only roughly 10 people. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;In my dream there was toilet paper everywhere.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Suddenly I was standing in a driveway. Just like at the house where I grew up. There were 2 cars parked in the driveway, one behind the other. I was standing between the two holding the garbage bag of laundry. I dropped it and started pulling my jeans off so I could change into a pair of red sweatpants I actually own and wash the jeans.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3961248506577584890?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3961248506577584890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3961248506577584890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3961248506577584890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3961248506577584890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/05/laundry.html' title='Laundry'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3257575994614630395</id><published>2008-05-11T22:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T22:34:59.582-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Office</title><content type='html'>I had a strange dream last night that I was working in an office building with a cubical maze. There were not many people around, mostly people who were my supervisors. Everything was mostly light grays and white.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I was told to make a copy of handwritten notes that was on notebook paper. I was supposed to somehow make the copy look exactly like original notebook paper without the writing. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The woman who handed it to me closely resembled the woman who was a secretary at the CPA firm where I was a receptionist back in the mid-eighties. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I took the paper into a small room where a copy machine was and started making a copy. I then wondered how on earth I was going to make it look like real, blank notebook paper. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;A man walked in who looked a lot like the V.P. of where I worked during my senior year of high school and right before I left to work at the CPA Firm. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;He asked me what I was doing in the room. I realized there were lots on small boxes lined up along many of the walls. The walls were drywall halfway up and the remainder was clear plexiglass. The room had a second door, mostly made of plexiglass that opened into the boss' office. I wanted to look in the boxes and see what they contained.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Before I had a chance to explain, the woman walked in and told him what she had told me to do. He didn't seem very happy. He asked me if I knew what I was copying. No, I told him. I was just making the copy. Then I showed them how it looked and asked them if it wouldn't make more sense to go to a store and match the paper up with general notebooks to find which one matched, buy it and tear out a sheet of paper.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The paper was supposed to go to someone else, but I did not know if the one I held was stolen from somebody, or if there was some sort of evidence written on the paper that the somebody was never supposed to see, or I just didn't know what.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The boss walked into his own office and I waited for the woman to leave or turn her back so I could quickly make another copy of the paper and pocket it as quickly as possible.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I then started explaining that trying to white out all the writing and make a copy to make it look like original notebook paper was pretty much impossible.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3257575994614630395?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3257575994614630395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3257575994614630395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3257575994614630395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3257575994614630395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/05/office.html' title='The Office'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3014809284662116868</id><published>2008-03-30T23:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T01:47:49.697-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Demon</title><content type='html'>I had another strange Supernatural dream early this morning. I dreamed I was in some really small town with the Winchesters. There were just some "old western" type buildings on each side of a wide dirt road. We walked from one to another. There was another female with us. Dean kept taking her from building to building while Sam &amp;amp; I followed. We walked into a store and started looking at things. I noticed on a bulletin board an announcement that a very old law from the 1800's would once again begin to be enacted. The bulletin board was on the wall to the left of a doorway. The doorway led into a very small room. The room was dark. On the left was a shelving unit. The notice on the board directed the reader to a newspaper on one of the shelves in which there was an article detailing the law. I took the newspaper and put it on a table so I could read the article. I pointed it out to Sam &amp;amp; Dean. Neither was all that interested. I read it anyway. It said that the friends of anyone caught committing a crime would be prosecuted along with the person who committed the crime whether they were present at the scene or not, and whether they even knew the friend was going to commit a crime or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I carefully folded the newspaper back up-it was dated from the 1800's when the law was first enacted-and put it back on the shelf. In the process, I had managed to tear it a little. Fortunately, no one noticed. I just put it back on the shelf. In the meantime, Dean, Sam and the other female had left. I walked towards a back door, not surprised they had "abandoned" me. I opened the door to find Sam standing right outside waiting for me. I felt better just then. We looked for Dean and the other woman. We went around to the front and saw the 2 of them standing in the middle of the road. Her back was to us. Dean was standing there holding a shotgun on her. Sam asked what he was doing. Dean told him the woman was a Demon. We walked around and stood next to Dean and saw that her eyes were indeed black. She told Dean that if he didn't shoot her, she would kill Dean. Sam kept telling Dean to shoot her. Dean didn't want to. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, because it wasn't the Colt he was aiming at her. Then Dean also pointed out that by shooting her with a gun other than the Colt, the Demon could just exit the body &amp;amp; go into another one. Like mine. I was not protected from being possessed. Sam grabbed my arm &amp;amp; pulled me closer. Just as Dean was considering shooting her, I told him not to. I explained about the newspaper article I had just read. The law essentially meant guilt by association. If Dean shot the woman &amp;amp; the Demon exited the body, the woman would die. And we all would be held responsible and tried for murder. If Dean didn't shoot her, she would kill Dean and Sam &amp;amp; I would still be arrested and tried for murder. And there was the whole would the Demon possess me next whether Dean shot her or not debate. Sam &amp;amp; Dean stood there trying to decide what to do when I woke up. At 1:00 this afternoon. Wow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3014809284662116868?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3014809284662116868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3014809284662116868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3014809284662116868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3014809284662116868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/03/demon.html' title='Demon'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-1717921950903057128</id><published>2008-03-16T11:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T01:51:43.277-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Footbridge</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I was back at the house where I grew up. I was outside talking to people. Someone asked where my mother was. I heard my sister's voice behind me saying "she's up there". I looked in the direction she was pointing: up. Our mother was walking on a &lt;a href="http://gallery.34thnottinghamscouts.org.uk/5199-2/acf.jpg"&gt;footbridge&lt;/a&gt;, only wide enough for one person, meaning two people would not be able to pass each other. The bridge was clear, nearly invisible with the waist-high walled railing being a hint of whitish/clear. It appeared to be made out of what I can only describe as acrylic. It extended from the front of the house to somewhere near the house across the street but it didn't seem to be connected to anything. It just ended. It seemed to be suspended by nothing about 15ish feet overhead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said I wanted to go up and take some pictures. My mother said in her condescending, I-know-you-way-better-than-you-know-yourself tone, "You don't want to come up here. You will get dizzy and fall." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got mad, but I said nothing and went inside the house and grabbed my camera from one of the bedrooms. As I passed back through the living room, min8ive was then sitting in a chair against the wall to my right wearing stereo headphones listening to...whatever she was listening to. I grumbled to myself, "I won't get dizzy. Even if I do I can steady myself on the wall." My main concern was possibly dropping the camera. But it has a lanyard anyway that I can secure to my wrist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked back out the front door wondering how one gets up onto the footbridge. Then I saw it was suddenly right there in front of me. Well, almost. It was hovering about 5 or 6 inches away from the porch. &lt;i&gt;She&lt;/i&gt; had gotten off and was sitting in a chair on the porch. I had to stretch and climb over a wall in order to get to the bridge. The wall I climbed over was made of some sort of padded fleecey/velvety material, black, with lots of some sort of designs all over it in different colors. As I climbed over &lt;i&gt;she&lt;/i&gt; kept saying, "you don't want to go on there, really you don't want to."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said nothing but thought, "no, I do want to, I really, really do want to. It would make for cool pictures."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And couldn't go back to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-1717921950903057128?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/1717921950903057128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=1717921950903057128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1717921950903057128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1717921950903057128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/03/footbridge.html' title='Footbridge'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-4686270435532784069</id><published>2008-03-08T15:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T16:04:45.549-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Restroom?</title><content type='html'>I had a dream this morning that I realize is a recurring dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in a school, in a classroom with only a couple other people. One of them, a man, was trying to work on some sort of project. He had corkboards on the walls and was pinning things up &amp;amp; taking other things down. He was supposed to give some sort of presentation. I started to help, but then I had to go to the bathroom. I told him I would be back in a minute. I went in search of a ladies rest room. Everytime I thought I found one, it was the men's. I kept walking around the school. Every so often there would be a lot of people around &amp;amp; I would follow females hoping they were heading to a women's restroom, but, no luck. Then I thought I saw a sign leading to a restroom. I kept walking, weeing sign after sign and I also noticed a man was in front of me going in the same direction. I hoped he wouldn't think I was following him. I kept following signs and ended up in what seemed like the basement or a delivery area. There was no one else around so I decided to head back thinking I must have missed a restroom a lot closer to the classroom where I started out. Suddenly I was walking out of a large roll-up door doorway. There was a big truck on the right and a hi-lo forklift on the left and I had to squeeze between the 2 in order to get out. I suddenly got scared b/c I was afraid I was lured there and the truck was going to back up &amp;amp; squish me. I started climbing onto the forklift to get to the other side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was outside and the school was about 50 yards ahead of me. I had no idea how I had ended up leaving the building but thought the guy I was supposed to be helping probably thought I had ditched him. So I started to make my way back when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-4686270435532784069?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/4686270435532784069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=4686270435532784069' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4686270435532784069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4686270435532784069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/03/restroom.html' title='Restroom?'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-6799800911945065205</id><published>2008-02-23T11:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T01:55:43.128-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Skeletons</title><content type='html'>I had a strange dream last night. That, yeah, led me back to my (ex)job. It has actually been awhile since I dreamed of &lt;i&gt;that place.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I had to fly to California. I don't know why exactly. I was suddenly there and I arrived at someone's house. my sister was there. She was holding a clipboard with paper attached and told me we had to inventory a bunch of things in a backyard. The yard was very large and at first I didn't see any objects. Just a large grassy field. As we walked to the back, I asked what happened to the large "hole" that used to be there. Then I realized that over time grass had grown over it. She was walking ahead of me and way ahead of her was our father's girlfriend. She told us the people who lived at the house had moved and wanted everything cleared out, but wanted to know what was there so they knew what they wanted to keep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly we were back behind a garage. It was just like the house where we grew up. There was alot of stuff packed against the fence that separated our yard from the one behind us and next to us &amp;amp; next to the house behind us. Does that make sense?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was an old purple colored Thunderbird car, 1990's, shoved against the fence. I opened the driver's door to look inside. Suddenly a man appeared in front of us on the other side of the fence. He reached over and slammed the door back shut. I told him I just wanted to look inside to see if anything was in it, if anything was salvageable. I told him that the same kind of car was in the position at the house where we grew up and some interesting things were packed into that car too (So not real, I have no idea where that came from) such as the car stereo. Min8ive just said she hadn't know that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I convinced the guy to let me look inside. I opened the door again, bent down &amp;amp; peered in and saw some old decomposing bodies. It smelled bad. I stood back up and glanced at the guy who looked at me with narrowed eyes. I just said, "oh. We should probably leave this here and let someone else worry about" thinking that later I would tell the authorities if I was still alive and I shut the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was back at my (ex)job. It was the summertime. I was inside the warehouse working. They had let everything pile up all over again and it was a packed, cluttered mess. While I tried moving things around and getting stuff organized, people started driving up. I had to go out to see what they wanted because everyone else was busy growing roots from their behinds into chairs. Even my (ex)crazy coworker/self-designated personal assistant was there. She started trying to help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was so much stuff all over the place there was barely room to walk. I stopped going out to see what the people in their cars wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suddenly realized it was very stupid of me to go back there in the first place. I started getting really mad and eventually ended up literally throwing things around and just shoving stuff into corners. I knew it would make the guys mad because then it was in their way, but I didn't care. They were the ones who had just put all the stuff haphazardly around in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally said I was fed up. I wasn't going to put up with it again. Everything could just stay where it was and why had I agreed to go back. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-6799800911945065205?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/6799800911945065205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=6799800911945065205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6799800911945065205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6799800911945065205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/02/skeletons.html' title='Skeletons'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-7594987142350844292</id><published>2008-02-03T11:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T01:58:57.859-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Singing</title><content type='html'>I was standing in a gymnasium with a bunch of other people, all of us standing in rows. At the front was a mean man sitting on a throne (with red velvet cushioning) on a 4' x 8' section of staging. Everyone had been forced to take a picture of him (sitting on the throne) and make it into an 8" x 10" framed picture. We had to pair up, move over a couple feet to the right from everyone else, &amp;amp; do a "song and dance" number and present it to him. I even remember some of the song. When it came time for my partner &amp;amp; I to do it, we got as far as&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We made,&lt;br /&gt;this picture,&lt;br /&gt;of you.&lt;br /&gt;We hope,&lt;br /&gt;you like it,&lt;br /&gt;because we do..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, not only could we not remember the rest of the song, we couldn't get our dance steps right. So we gave up and got back into our places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man asked why we stopped. We explained that we knew that even the tiniest mistake would cause points to be taken off our final score. Since we did so poorly we saw no point in continuing. Some of the other people we watched were so much better, pretty much perfect. He was telling us that he hadn't seen one performance that he thought was utterly perfect &amp;amp; that we should try again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started thinking it had to be one of the dumbest dreams I have had yet, so I woke myself up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-7594987142350844292?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/7594987142350844292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=7594987142350844292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7594987142350844292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7594987142350844292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/02/singing.html' title='Singing'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-6084782126775380663</id><published>2008-01-06T23:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-06T23:24:47.355-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A green house</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that someone or other I knew had just bought a smaller house than the one they lived in. They were quite happy with it. I suddenly was getting a bird's eye view of it &amp;amp; the neighbor hood. All the other houses were very large, multi story houses while this particular one was tall but very narrow. And very green. I flew over it a couple times while the people who bought it talked about how great they thought it was. They were not with me though. They did not know how it looked in comparison to the rest of the houses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was suddenly in a bed sleeping, with an I.V. hooked up to my arm. I wanted to wake up but I couldn't, I felt too drowsy. I heard someone say they suspected my I.V. had some kind of sedative running in it &amp;amp; tried to secretly unhook it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-6084782126775380663?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/6084782126775380663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=6084782126775380663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6084782126775380663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6084782126775380663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2008/01/green-house.html' title='A green house'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-6217981474143352692</id><published>2007-12-16T23:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T23:35:47.353-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Party</title><content type='html'>I had a strange dream last night. I was looking out a window and I saw a crowd suddenly gather along the street. I went out to see what was going on. Several celebrities were visiting, arriving by boat. I found myself standing nearby, near a large body of water. The celebs disembarked. A man whose name I knew in the dream, but has since escaped me walked up to me and said hi. Strangely, I think this man, in reality, passed away in the last year or so. He motioned me over to a wetbar and offered to buy me a drink. I asked for water, but got something else, ice tea I think. The bartender put both the man's &amp;amp; my drinks on a cocktail tray. My drink was in a beer mug. The man took his, I was reaching for mine, but the bartender moved the tray &amp;amp; my drink ended up falling to the floor. I apologized profusely. The man just smiled &amp;amp; ordered another. The bartender put that on a tray as well, but he held it still while I took it. We then turned away and we were suddenly in a very large room with lots of table &amp;amp; chairs at which lots of people were sitting. We found an empty table &amp;amp; sat down. We talked for a while and sipped our drinks. Mine tasted odd, but I said nothing. After a while the man excused himself &amp;amp; said he had to go mingle with the rest of the guests. I got up shortly thereafter, but some women came up to me &amp;amp; started talking to me. One of them asked if I was going to another function where they had been invited. She then started showing me pictures. The other women told me I could not go b/c they did not want me there. I told them I did not care b/c I had to stay to help clean up anyway. That wasn't true, but I knew of only 1 person who had volunteered to clean up &amp;amp; I thought it would only be appropriate for me to help. I started clearing glasses &amp;amp; mugs off tables as people got up and left. A couple times I thought people were vacating a table &amp;amp; I began clearing it when they would sit back down again. So I would leave the glasses and move on to another table. The one woman who had volunteered came up to me &amp;amp; thanked me for helping her as she did not know how else she was going to get it all cleared away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-6217981474143352692?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/6217981474143352692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=6217981474143352692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6217981474143352692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6217981474143352692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/12/party.html' title='Party'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-4332493400049181706</id><published>2007-12-15T00:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T00:44:04.955-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Zombies &amp; Work</title><content type='html'>I had 2 strange dreams last night, one of them being another &lt;a href="http://cwtv.com/shows/supernatural"&gt;Supernatural&lt;/a&gt;-type dream. I didn't take any Benedryl or anything so I know that wasn't a cause, like I thought in a previous post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamed that suddenly I was living in a &lt;a href="http://www.28dayslaterthemovie.co.uk/"&gt;28 Days Later&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0063350/"&gt;/Night of the Living Dead&lt;/a&gt;/&lt;a href="http://www.dawnofthedeadmovie.net/"&gt;Dawn of the Dead&lt;/a&gt;/&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088993/"&gt;Day of the Dead&lt;/a&gt;, etc. type world where cannibalistic zombies were roaming the earth. The few humans not yet infected were escaping to parts unknown. I am not sure exactly where I was but, once again, &lt;a href="http://cwtv.com/shows/supernatural/cast/jensen-ackles"&gt;Dean&lt;/a&gt; &amp;amp; &lt;a href="http://cwtv.com/shows/supernatural/cast/jared-padalecki"&gt;Sam&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&amp;amp;friendid=188627124&amp;amp;MyToken=7ba7eb72-eff7-4823-9e0d-35d43f032506"&gt;Winchester&lt;/a&gt; were there helping people escape, trying to find out how the people became the living dead &amp;amp; whether or not to "kill" those who already became the living dead, or if they would change back once a solution was found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a fairly large open field with some hills and very green grass. And possibly train tracks nearby. A train was going to arrive &amp;amp; people were headed towards it as a means to escape. I did not think it was a good idea. What happened if anyone already inside the train was infected? I started running towards where the train would pass to warn people. Someone came up behind me &amp;amp; knocked me down. I was on the ground on my back, the guy jumped on top of me &amp;amp; sat with his legs straddling my waist. He had me pinned down &amp;amp; was going to kiss me. Possibly meaning the infection was through saliva contact. I struggled to get away when Dean came at us &amp;amp; knocked the guy away from me &amp;amp; killed him. Sam came running up saying there were more of them on the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sam &amp;amp; Dean grabbed me &amp;amp; told me they would take me somewhere safe and we headed towards their &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Metallicar-Supernatural.jpg"&gt;Impala&lt;/a&gt;. From somewhere they produced alot of bottles of water b/c we were not sure if there would be any where we were going. We started loading it all into the car when Sam questioned if it was even safe. Was bottled water how people got infected in the first place? We were just deciding to think about it later &amp;amp; leave now when I briefly woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had another dream that I was at the place from where I was fired. I was in the warehouse, upstairs. I wasn't working, though, I was just observing...what I don't know. I saw something of mine I realized I'd forgotten to take with me the last time I was there. I headed towards the thing when someone asked for help getting something down off a very high shelf. I climbed up the &lt;a href="http://www.ladders-999.co.uk/steps_warehouse_2.htm"&gt;mobile stairs&lt;/a&gt; &amp;amp; stepped onto the shelf &amp;amp; grabbed something to hand down. Then I started walking along the upper shelving unit. I found myself in a different part of the warehouse and had to step/climb across a section of an unstable wooden walkway. Other people started following me. They were all leaving &amp;amp; the way we were walking was the only way out. Someone was afraid of heights &amp;amp; did not want to go, but he had no choice. First I went across &amp;amp; offered to help him across, but he was still scared. So I jumped back over &amp;amp; someone else went over &amp;amp; together we helped the guy finally get across. Then I jumped back over &amp;amp; nearly fell, but I caught myself in time. I was just kind of hanging there, hanging onto a bar of some sort &amp;amp; was pulling myself up when I woke up again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-4332493400049181706?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/4332493400049181706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=4332493400049181706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4332493400049181706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4332493400049181706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/12/zombies-work.html' title='Zombies &amp; Work'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-7991945956209861351</id><published>2007-11-27T16:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T22:25:25.465-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An interview, gym, &amp; disappearing people</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I was supposed to go to a job interview. The interview was at 9:15. I was getting dressed and looked at my watch. The time was 10:00 AM. I debated on whether I should even go. I figured I should call &amp;amp; reschedule, but would they even want to see me at that point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was in a gym of some kind &amp;amp; dressed in shorts and either a t-shirt or sweatshirt, I couldn't tell which. I went into the locker room &amp;amp; suddenly I had lots of dirty white tape wrapped around my legs. I started taking it off while I walked to my locker. Someone called me over to talk to me about something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was sitting in a chair at a banquet table. I was at some sort of party, but there were very few people there. Someone sitting in another chair in front of me asked me when everyone else would get there. I told him to not worry, everyone else would show up. Someone else walked up &amp;amp; climbed around me onto the table to peer around a large box truck. There was room divider curtains on the other side of the box truck. We peeped over. The person climbing around me asked why all the people were hiding. I looked and so no one. I looked at the person &amp;amp; asked who he was talking about. He pointed &amp;amp; said "them". I looked again &amp;amp; suddenly saw a lot of people where he was pointing behind the truck/curtains. The person sitting in front of me looked and couldn't see the people. I asked to borrow a video camera &amp;amp; started taking videos of the people hiding, milling about talking to each other. They looked at me &amp;amp; all of them suddenly disappeared. I asked the person who was also looking if he had seen what I saw. He said there was never anyone there in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-7991945956209861351?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/7991945956209861351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=7991945956209861351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7991945956209861351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7991945956209861351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/11/interview-gym-disappearing-people.html' title='An interview, gym, &amp; disappearing people'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-1881216729019354681</id><published>2007-11-19T21:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T00:15:45.054-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A message</title><content type='html'>I dreamed I had to put some kind of small message on signs all around a city. Except I don't know what the message was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamed the messages were not verbal in nature (that I could see). I had to use a square of white gauze pads &amp;amp; stick them to signs using band-aids stuck on either side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man approached me &amp;amp; told me I could not put anymore up. I couldn't quite make out why. I told him I was told to do it so I would. We argued for a few minutes. Finally I agreed &amp;amp; walked away in the hopes he would also leave. He did, or so I thought. I went back to the sign &amp;amp; proceeded to put up more bandages. The guy came back. Suddenly someone else approached me &amp;amp; said we had to talk. We went into a building &amp;amp; he told me he was with the FBI &amp;amp; that whoever didn't want me to put up the messages was wanted for some kind of felony or other &amp;amp; asked if I'd help capture them. I agreed. I went back out to put a message up when 2 females approached me &amp;amp; also told me to stop. I said I couldn't. I waited for them to get closer so the FBI agents could listen to the conversation. I asked the women why I couldn't put up the messages. They just told me that if I didn't stop they'd have to kill me. They then came at me, one of them holding a tiny pin that had been dipped in poison. One grabbed me while the other tried to prick my wrist with the pin. I fought &amp;amp; screamed. I managed to get away &amp;amp; I ran. As with all running-away-from-someone-dreams, they were right behind me &amp;amp; I couldn't run fast enough. Just as I saw the FBI agents in pursuit, I woke up--3 &amp;amp; 1/2 hours after my radio initially went on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-1881216729019354681?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/1881216729019354681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=1881216729019354681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1881216729019354681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1881216729019354681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/11/message.html' title='A message'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-1776054715882500409</id><published>2007-11-18T20:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T00:19:09.685-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vampires</title><content type='html'>I had a vampire-y dream. I don't remember most of it, just the tail end where I was about to be bitten by a vampire. And yeah, the Winchesters came to rescue. Except just b/4 they were going to decapitate vampire dude, he informed us that he was not, in fact, about to bite my neck. He was leaning in to tell me that someone else nearby was going to attack me &amp;amp; he was trying to save my life. So there we all were talking and vampire dude telling us he's a good guy when I woke up. At noon today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-1776054715882500409?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/1776054715882500409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=1776054715882500409' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1776054715882500409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1776054715882500409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/11/vampires.html' title='Vampires'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-9219399401572739752</id><published>2007-11-11T16:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T00:21:56.274-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Supernatural dream</title><content type='html'>I ended up having another &lt;a href="http://cwtv.com/shows/supernatural"&gt;Supernatural&lt;/a&gt; dream. This one was just a general dream, not based on any episodes. I actually don't even remember a whole heckofalot of the dream. I just remember &lt;a href="http://winchester-journals.net/characters/deanwinchester.php"&gt;Dean&lt;/a&gt; &amp;amp; &lt;a href="http://winchester-journals.net/characters/samwinchester.php"&gt;Sam&lt;/a&gt; talking...about...somethingorother. Then I heard my upstairs neighbor moving around. My ceiling was creaking. So it ended up in my dream. In the form of spirits. Or Demons. Me, Dean &amp;amp; Sam went upstairs to investigate. There was no door on her apartment entrance. We snuck cautiously inside. And saw no one inside. There was no corporeal evidence of the source of the noises.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-9219399401572739752?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/9219399401572739752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=9219399401572739752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/9219399401572739752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/9219399401572739752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/11/another-supernatural-dream.html' title='Another Supernatural dream'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-1386062826400593845</id><published>2007-11-10T21:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T00:24:12.744-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Supernatural dream</title><content type='html'>I had another &lt;a href="http://cwtv.com/shows/supernatural/about"&gt;Supernatural&lt;/a&gt; dream last night. This one was about Thursday night's &lt;a href="http://www.tv.com/supernatural/red-sky-at-morning/episode/1138361/summary.html?om_act=convert&amp;amp;om_clk=episodessh&amp;amp;tag=episodes;title;1"&gt;episode&lt;/a&gt;. In my dream I was Bela (whom I really hate btw).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the episode, Bela asked the guys for help in stealing the &lt;a href="http://www.randi.org/encyclopedia/hand%20of%20glory.html"&gt;Hand of Glory&lt;/a&gt;. In my dream I (as Bela) decided to attempt it myself. While I get inside and make my way to the room where it is being held, Dean &amp;amp; Sam sneak in through a window. They got to it b/4 I did. Suddenly I was no longer Bela, I was just me &amp;amp; I was laughing at her while I helped the guys escape &amp;amp; made Bela take the blame for the Hand going missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-1386062826400593845?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/1386062826400593845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=1386062826400593845' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1386062826400593845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1386062826400593845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/11/another-supernatural-dream_10.html' title='Another Supernatural dream'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5593289748929626572</id><published>2007-11-02T22:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T00:26:35.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Supernatural dream</title><content type='html'>Had a &lt;a href="http://cwtv.com/shows/supernatural"&gt;Supernatural&lt;/a&gt; dream last night. Although I watch the show on a regular basis &amp;amp; am quite the fan, the dream was probably caused from watching last night's &lt;a href="http://www.tv.com/supernatural/bedtime-stories/episode/1138359/summary.html?om_act=convert&amp;amp;om_clk=episodessh&amp;amp;tag=episodes;title;1"&gt;episode&lt;/a&gt;. I dreamed I was sitting in the back seat of the &lt;a href="http://www.tvacres.com/autos_chevy_winchester.htm"&gt;Impala&lt;/a&gt;. We were headed for a fast food restaurant where my friends (all of whom I haven't seen for quite a few years now) were. We had just gotten in the parking lot when someone held us up at gunpoint. He handcuffed all of us together. &lt;a href="http://winchester-journals.net/characters/deanwinchester.php"&gt;Dean'&lt;/a&gt;s (&lt;a href="http://imdb.com/name/nm0010075/"&gt;Jensen Ackles&lt;/a&gt;) left wrist was handcuffed to the steering wheel; his right wrist was handcuffed to my left; my right was handcuffed to &lt;a href="http://winchester-journals.net/characters/samwinchester.php"&gt;Sam&lt;/a&gt;'s (&lt;a href="http://imdb.com/name/nm0655585/"&gt;Jared Padalecki&lt;/a&gt;) left wrist; his right wrist was handcuffed to...something on the car I couldn't see. None of us could move very well with me being in the back seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy went into the restaurant to kill people. Dean &amp;amp; Sam didn't have any of their lock picking devises handy to get us out of the handcuffs so Dean drove right into the restaurant--without damaging any part of the building. He pulled up next to the counter thingy that holds all the straws, napkins, plastic utensils, etc. Somehow he was going open the handcuffs with...something. I had maneuvered into the front &amp;amp; somehow managed to reach the something (I didn't see what it was), &amp;amp; we got free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sam &amp;amp; Dean dealt with the guy with the gun (who was possessed) &amp;amp; I went over to talk to my friends who were all scared &amp;amp; trying to hide under tables &amp;amp; booths. I explained to them what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was all "over", I &amp;amp; the 2 guys jumped back into the Impala &amp;amp; Dean began maneuvering back out of restaurant when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5593289748929626572?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5593289748929626572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5593289748929626572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5593289748929626572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5593289748929626572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/11/supernatural-dream.html' title='A Supernatural dream'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-7582399578412996288</id><published>2007-10-15T20:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T20:45:20.985-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Drugs</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that I was shopping. Looking at bras of all things. I started trying one on right there in the store. And not in a dressing room. I realized how crazy it was so I stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I had a bag in my hand. A paper bag I think. It was supposed to have drugs in it &amp;amp; someone was chasing me for them. He caught up to me &amp;amp; demanded I dump them into his hand. I did but it was empty nut shells of some sort. Then I ran again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-7582399578412996288?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/7582399578412996288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=7582399578412996288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7582399578412996288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7582399578412996288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/10/drugs.html' title='Drugs'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5331200672297236965</id><published>2007-10-14T20:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T21:47:17.807-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed I was at a friend's house. There was a small gathering. My 2 sisters were also there. My older sister had fallen asleep on the couch. She only knew one other person there who decided to leave seeing as she'd fallen asleep. Just then she woke up &amp;amp; asked her friend to stay. But she wouldn't. So my older sister left too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was going up the stairs from the basement, turned back &amp;amp; noticed the host was smoking a cigarette--something he doesn't normally do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continued on up the stairs &amp;amp; out the side door. &amp;amp; found myself outside of a structure similar to ones in which vendors are selling something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My other sister said she had something to show me. We walked into some woods where there was a brook nearby. We walked alongside the brook. I noticed a large frog or toad partially buried in mud. There was a small white heavy piece of paper next to it in black calligraphy ink were the words "for sale".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We kept walking. After a short time she said she couldn't find what she was looking for. The big frog/toad. I told her we passed it by. So we doubled back &amp;amp; found it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went back to the structure. I suddenly had the urge to take a shower. So I went for a towel &amp;amp; fresh clothes. But instead, I came across my coffee mug. I hadn't washed it since I had coffee in it that morning &amp;amp; decided to do so. I went to a freestanding counter that had a sink. The sink was full of dirty dishes from the last meal we had all had. So I decided to wash them. Except I still really wanted to take a shower. Fortunately some other people came to help me do the dishes so they got done pretty quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5331200672297236965?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5331200672297236965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5331200672297236965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5331200672297236965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5331200672297236965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/10/last-night-i-dreamed-i-was-at-friends.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-1711175009655283145</id><published>2007-09-29T11:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T11:18:03.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Murder</title><content type='html'>I was at a grocery store shopping. I found a woman laying in the produce section...dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spoke to the police. They asked me to help canvass the neighborhood where she lived. It was an apartment building. There was already someone else there knocking on doors, but she wasn't having much success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knocked on the door of the person who lived right next to the victim. The other woman told me she already tried, but didn't get an answer. I did. A woman opened the door. I asked her what she could tell me about her neighbor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman told me it was just tragic how she had died. That told me she was the killer. The fact that the woman was dead, much less had been killed had not been released to the public yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pretended I hadn't noticed &amp;amp; continued talking to her. Then I alerted the authorities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-1711175009655283145?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/1711175009655283145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=1711175009655283145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1711175009655283145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1711175009655283145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/09/murder.html' title='Murder'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-821035582643693784</id><published>2007-09-06T19:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T19:15:54.808-04:00</updated><title type='text'>School</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was back in high school. I was on the second floor &amp; was making my way to the first floor. I just then remembered I've had more dreams concerning being in the school. One of them was that I was looking for a specific class, &amp;amp; couldn't seem to find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this dream I was again looking for a class. I was also carrying a bunch of things such as a very large key ring with a single key on it. Just like the one that opens the warehouse door at work. I also had in my arms a bunch of linens of some sort. I went to the stairs that went down to the main lobby &amp; turned right. There were classrooms there &amp;amp; I walked into the first one where a class I was attending was to be. No idea what the subject was. I walked in &amp; tried to find a seat. There were tables with 2 chairs on one side &amp;amp; 2 chairs on the other instead of desks. I tried to get a seat but they all seemed to be filled up. So I walked out &amp; decided to drop off the things I was holding at a counter in the lobby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met up with someone I knew &amp;amp; chit chatted for a minute, then made my way back to the classroom. There were fewer people inside. I went up to the first desk &amp; noticed a bulletin taped to it. It stated that the class would be meeting in downtown Detroit at 6:30 PM. The person I was talking to from the lobby had walked in with me. I read the bulletin aloud &amp;amp; said that it didn't say where to meet downtown. And, it would seem, 6:30 was fast approaching and I decided I would not be able to make it in time even if I knew what building I was supposed to go to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-821035582643693784?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/821035582643693784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=821035582643693784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/821035582643693784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/821035582643693784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/09/school.html' title='School'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5905055827110848536</id><published>2007-08-29T21:18:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T21:19:42.939-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Abandoned</title><content type='html'>I just woke up from a dream that I was living in an abandoned city with 2 other people. Ok, it was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nearly&lt;/span&gt; abandoned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all decided to stay together in one (rather rundown) hotel, each of us having our own floor, but visiting each other often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were all in one of our rooms together when we heard noises from outside. I peeped out a window &amp; saw another guy walking around. We were trying to decide if we should make ourselves known to him. We didn't know if he was friendly or if he may want to kill us, we also weren't sure just how it was that no one else was in the city: had everyone died or had they all just left?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy, who looked strangely alot like Jack Black (sorry, no time for a link showing who he is if you don't know) managed to hear us &amp;amp; came to investigate &amp; found us. He seemed friendly enough. I offered him a drink, except all we had just then was pop (no beer, etc.). He and my other 2 (male) friends each asked for something different. One wanted caffeine free cola (we only had regular cola, with caffeine, which I reminded him); one wanted one of those lemon-limey pops which we had; &amp;amp; the other I don't quite remember, ginger-ale or something. I started pouring each into glasses. Then I went into the bathroom or a bedroom to rummage for something. I was suddenly late getting ready for work which I told them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5905055827110848536?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5905055827110848536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5905055827110848536' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5905055827110848536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5905055827110848536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/08/abandoned.html' title='Abandoned'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-3688355663045088794</id><published>2007-08-26T22:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-26T22:33:58.845-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Graduating</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I graduated from a school. The classes hadn't gone on long &amp; I don't know what the subjects even were, but everyone was required to stay on site during the duration (like even sleeping there). We were all standing around in a huge foyer type room chatting. There were people I hadn't seen since high school. One of them was a friend of mine back in elementary school. She asked me if I needed a ride home, which I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed my suitcase &amp;amp; backpack &amp; followed her outside to her car. It was a winter night &amp;amp; it was cold with lots of snow on the ground. As we made our way to the car, we stopped &amp; told lots of other graduates good-bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her car was a very old one. One of those big late '70's or early '80's boats. We went around to the trunk &amp;amp; dropped our stuff in &amp; jumped into the car. As she pulled out of the parking lot she said we could stay at another friends' place until morning then set off for home. We were at the top of a street. She started down the hill at what I thought was a too fast speed but I didn't say anything b/c I saw the street was slushy but it didn't seem slippery or icy. We got safely down to the bottom &amp;amp; continued on to the friends' place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got there &amp; there were several people outside waiting for us. Suddenly the weather was warmer &amp;amp; it was lighter outside than b/4. We got out &amp; the people congratulated us on getting through the class(es). My friend, R. told them that she had the highest score &amp;amp; that I'd gotten the second highest. I actually hadn't even known that until she said it. Someone else there congratulated us again &amp;amp; said that he used to have the all time highest score but that we both beat him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up. Actually my cat woke me up with her crying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-3688355663045088794?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/3688355663045088794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=3688355663045088794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3688355663045088794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/3688355663045088794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/08/graduating.html' title='Graduating'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-1673774773201231797</id><published>2007-07-17T19:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T19:27:25.068-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bugs</title><content type='html'>I dreamed I was laying in bed &amp; there were people around me. I was supposed to be rehearsing with someone for a short camera performance with 1 or 2 of the people (no porn or anything like that). Just someone waking me up &amp;amp; telling me something. Another person sat down near the bed &amp; pulled out a few cases of pairs of roller blades &amp;amp; proceeded to try them on. I looked at them &amp; noticed they looked very different from the old ones I have. Instead of 4 wheels in a row, 1 or 2 pair had 6 wheels, each in pairs in a row. Others had 5 wheels in a row.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was near a fake tree with real bugs in it. A very fuzzy black &amp;amp; white caterpillar dropped from the tree onto my leg. I got scared of it for a brief minute, but I asked 1 of the people if that species bites &amp;amp; is it venomous? No was the answer. Then the caterpillar seemed to float. I noticed it had butterfly wings but it was still a caterpillar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then a tiny venomous spider dropped onto my leg. I tried shaking it off b/4 it bit me, but it hung on. Then another bug landed on me. I tried getting up to get them off me but I couldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-1673774773201231797?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/1673774773201231797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=1673774773201231797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1673774773201231797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/1673774773201231797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/07/bugs.html' title='Bugs'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8669150547540447170</id><published>2007-07-14T21:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T16:37:24.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Visiting</title><content type='html'>I dreamed that I was living in a large multi-room apartment with a few other people on an upper floor. I got up one morning and went down the stairs to check the mail. The stairs were the privacy entrance kind. After retrieving the mail I went back upstairs to my private kitchen &amp; placed the mail on the counter. As I did that the phone rang &amp;amp; I answered it. It was someone I talked to on the phone for a very long time. She lived out of state, but would be visiting &amp;amp; wanted to know if she could stay at the apartment. I told her I would have to check with the other people I lived with, but I was sure there wouldn't be a problem. I figured I'd have to let her sleep in my bed while I slept on an air mattress. Not too thrilled with the idea, but there was little other option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8669150547540447170?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8669150547540447170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8669150547540447170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8669150547540447170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8669150547540447170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/07/visiting.html' title='Visiting'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8089076047583053268</id><published>2007-07-14T15:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-14T15:28:30.177-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gas station</title><content type='html'>I had a dream Thursday night/Friday morning that we had a blackout. No electricity. Very much like the Blackout of 2003.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was driving around trying to get home. Except I wasn't sure where home was. I came to an intersection where there was a gas station on one corner. I went in but the manager said he was leaving to go on vacation. I could look after the place while he was gone if I wanted to. Suddenly he was just totally gone &amp; I was there alone. Someone else showed up. I told him what had happened. We decided to buy supplies for ourselves &amp;amp; sell the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took water, pop, &amp; food &amp;amp; the money it all cost &amp; hid it upstairs where there was a room set up like an office. There was a desk with lots &amp;amp; lots of papers &amp; ledgers, a couple end tables each with a lamp, &amp;amp; a small couch. I hid the food, beverages, &amp; money away &amp;amp; went back downstairs. There were customers coming in. I told everyone that seeing as the cash register was electric, &amp; therefore, not working everyone had to pay the exact amount as we would not be able to hand out change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the day went on, we got more &amp;amp; more customers for food &amp; drinks, but no one could get gas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point, someone drove into the parking lot. I went outside &amp;amp; he dropped down one after another many various packs of unopened cigarettes. He told me to sell them all. He started cry, jumped into his car &amp; took off. I picked up all the cigarettes &amp;amp; took them inside. There were alot of people inside. A couple men started going upstairs to see what was there. I quickly followed them &amp; told them it was the manager's office &amp;amp; they could not be up there. I grabbed an armful of papers &amp; the current accounting ledger &amp;amp; held them close. I again repeated for them to get out. I remember looking out a window, but I can't remember now what I saw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ushered the men back down the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More people were tempted to go up, but I blocked their way telling them to either buy what they needed (provided it was there) &amp;amp; leave immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8089076047583053268?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8089076047583053268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8089076047583053268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8089076047583053268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8089076047583053268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/07/gas-station.html' title='Gas station'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-4466012143198939190</id><published>2007-07-07T20:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T21:06:13.713-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Murder?</title><content type='html'>I had a strange dream that I was walking around the neighborhood where I grew up. I witnessed something I wasn't supposed to see or hear. Not sure exactly what, a plot to murder someone, or the murder itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The police were following me wanting to talk to me. I ran up the street behind the one where I grew up. I ducked into the yard of the house right behind the one I grew up in. I tried to pretend like I went into the house, but I went into the yard, snuck all the way back &amp; hopped the fence. I went to "my" house &amp;amp; to the side door &amp; snuck in. All the while I had an idea the police officer chasing me had seen me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There in the house was my uncle. I told him I didn't have time to explain but to tell the officer he hadn't seen me. He asked why. I explained very briefly that I didn't trust the officer who wanted to ask about what I'd seen/heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The officer came up to the house &amp;amp; I hid while he &amp; my uncle conversed for a couple minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then suddenly I was working in some kind of attorney's office, but there was a huge pool for exercising &amp;amp; I and several other people were swimming in it playing some kind of "pool game" like water polo or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then break-time was over &amp; we all got out to go to the locker room to shower. Everyone else finished b/4 I did. I was showering when I heard noises. I peeped out calling out someone's name to see if it was she. I didn't see anyone but I still heard noises. I quickly finished my shower &amp;amp; got out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I followed the noises to a specific locker. I looked inside. There was clothing with blood on it &amp;amp; a piece of paper with my name. Someone was trying to frame me for the murder or plot thereof. I wondered what I should do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my cat woke me up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-4466012143198939190?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/4466012143198939190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=4466012143198939190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4466012143198939190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4466012143198939190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/07/murder.html' title='Murder?'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-7127069965374066056</id><published>2007-05-08T21:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T21:44:56.999-04:00</updated><title type='text'>shopping</title><content type='html'>I had another dream last night that I was shopping. At some kind of hardware store. I kept looking around, there were a couple things I wanted to buy, but didn't need them, didn't really want to spend the money. At some point I stepped outside for a minute, but I couldn't actually leave for reasons I don't know. Then someone else stepped outside &amp; started talking about being able to fly. We looked up &amp;amp; there was someone clinging to some kind of airplane or spaceshippy thing, hitchhiking. Just hanging there. We watched it &amp;amp; him pass over us. Then we went back inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-7127069965374066056?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/7127069965374066056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=7127069965374066056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7127069965374066056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7127069965374066056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/05/shopping.html' title='shopping'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-6915363353322386205</id><published>2007-05-07T20:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T20:37:21.674-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Injured dog</title><content type='html'>I dreamed that I suddenly came across an injured dog. A Golden Labrador who couldn't stand up. I feared one or more legs were broken. A stranger picked the dog up for me so I could transport it to a hospital. Except the only place anywhere nearby was a human hospital. They agreed to x-ray the dog's legs to see if any or how many were broken. Except we had to wait as the only x-ray machine was being used for a person. So we laid the dog on a table in a nearby room. I talked to the dog saying everything would be ok. The dog looked at me with gratitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-6915363353322386205?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/6915363353322386205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=6915363353322386205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6915363353322386205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6915363353322386205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/05/injured-dog.html' title='Injured dog'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-2678630856119519675</id><published>2007-05-03T20:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T20:40:25.535-04:00</updated><title type='text'>email</title><content type='html'>Last night's dream was that I was sitting in a classroom. What the subject was I don't know. But I was sitting there &amp; everyone else was giving me nasty looks &amp;amp; talking about me behind my back. A longtime friend of mine came up to me &amp; explained I had sent an email from an email address I hadn't used in a long time stating something nasty about many people &amp;amp; had been carbon copied to everyone in the class plus lots of other people I had known over the years. I eventually somehow discovered that another person who used to be a friend a long time ago &amp; who I hadn't heard from in years had hacked into that email account &amp;amp; sent the vicious letter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the room &amp; was walking around outside trying to figure out what to do, as I had no idea how to get in touch with this past friend &amp;amp; ask her why she had done that. Then I saw another person who had been a friend since kindergarten sitting on a wall. I sat down next to him &amp;amp; asked if he'd gotten the email too. He had. I explained that I wasn't the one who sent it. He told me not to worry about, he had assumed that. He told me I should change the email password or delete it altogether. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-2678630856119519675?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/2678630856119519675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=2678630856119519675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/2678630856119519675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/2678630856119519675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/05/email.html' title='email'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8890286877524941112</id><published>2007-05-02T19:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-02T19:16:07.587-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bathroom</title><content type='html'>I dreamed I stayed overnight at someone else's house. I got up early in the morning having to go to the bathroom. The bathroom was dark &amp; quiet, so I assumed it was empty. I went in &amp;amp; was about to close the door when I realized the homeowner was in there. He was standing in front of a mirror wearing a burgundy bathrobe primping. I apologized &amp; explained that I had to go &amp;amp; that I thought it was empty. He just stood there. I was still half asleep &amp; couldn't actually open my eyes more than occasional slits throughout this exchange. He made no move to let me do what I had to, so I decided I didn't have to go so bad &amp;amp; went back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up for real.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8890286877524941112?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8890286877524941112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8890286877524941112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8890286877524941112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8890286877524941112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/05/bathroom.html' title='Bathroom'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-77211654671797101</id><published>2007-05-01T19:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T19:19:40.416-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Accident?</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed I was on my way to work. Except I was driving in the direction to get home. It was a few minutes b/4 8:00 AM. I came upon 4 cars sitting in the right traveling lane &amp; a woman standing nearby. She flagged me down, said she'd been in a car accident &amp;amp; could I call the police. I didn't have a cell phone, so I told her I would drive her to the nearest gas station where I thought would be a payphone. We got there &amp; as I located the payphone, she started crying. She said she wasn't sure if she should call the police b/c the accident may have been her fault. I asked her why she wasn't sure. I asked her which car was hers. It was a white SUV, the 3rd one back in line. I told her it may be the fault of the first 2 vehicles if they were just sitting there in a traveling lane. On the other hand, here in MI she would still be ticketed for not keeping control of her car. We went back to the vehicles &amp;amp; I asked where all the other drivers were. The woman didn't know. Suddenly another woman showed up &amp;amp; I thought for a minute they were trying to rob my car. I started yelling at them, then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-77211654671797101?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/77211654671797101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=77211654671797101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/77211654671797101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/77211654671797101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/05/accident.html' title='Accident?'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-7757455558624751792</id><published>2007-04-30T19:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-30T19:45:18.811-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Surgery</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I needed some kind of surgery on my bladder. The surgery was scheduled for a Tuesday the 20th (the only month that the 20th falls on a Tuesday is in November).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-7757455558624751792?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/7757455558624751792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=7757455558624751792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7757455558624751792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/7757455558624751792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/04/surgery.html' title='Surgery'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-6613522397752692121</id><published>2007-04-29T10:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T10:31:07.276-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The airport</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was taking an airplane trip in the near future. I went to the airport in the morning to validate my airplane ticket. When I got there, I first went into a bookstore &amp; was browsing. I heard over a loudspeaker that there would be discounts to anyone who went into the bookstore I happened to be in &amp;amp; got their tickets validated by 3:00PM. So I went to the register &amp; got in line. I ended up second in line behind someone else. A third person got in line behind me. It was around 11:00 AM. There was no cashier there. It was suddenly 2:30 PM &amp;amp; someone finally showed up to work the register. The guy in front of me gave his ticket for validation. As I was pulling mine out of my purse, the guy behind me gave his b/4 me. I said, "excuse me but I was next." The woman said not to worry, she'd see to it that mine got validated in time. I told her she should validate them anyway as we had been standing there for 3 &amp; 1/2 hours with no cashier in sight. I said that was probably the catch. They announce a discount b/4 a certain time, but make sure there is no one around until the last minute to validate them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was finally my turn &amp;amp; I asked if there was any penalty for cancelling one of my tickets. It turned out I had 2 of them b/c I thought I was going to have a companion flying with me, but it turned out he wouldn't be able to make the trip with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up shortly thereafter not even knowing where my destination was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-6613522397752692121?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/6613522397752692121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=6613522397752692121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6613522397752692121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/6613522397752692121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/04/airport.html' title='The airport'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8962548535800037079</id><published>2007-04-26T21:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T21:22:42.394-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that I was using a laptop computer size Personal Digital Assistant at work. There was a youjng kid watching me. He told my boss he wanted a PDA just like it. My boss told him he could have mine. That made me upset b/c I loved my PDA. I told him no way &amp; the kid got very upset &amp;amp; tried to take it away from me. I had to keep going to different places to hide from the kid, but he kept finding me. I ended up in a basement bedroom &amp; closed the door. I had to lean against it b/c there was no lock. The kid kept pounding on the door, so I figured I'd have to give the PDA to him, but first I had to delete all my personal info. I got very mad about having to give it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was facing my boss &amp;amp; telling him he had no right to promise someone something that wasn't his to promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was back in the basement bedroom looking for a way to reformat the PDA hardrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8962548535800037079?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8962548535800037079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8962548535800037079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8962548535800037079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8962548535800037079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/04/last-night-i-had-dream-that-i-was-using.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8550695610817212665</id><published>2007-04-04T21:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-04T21:39:58.504-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Water</title><content type='html'>I have been having lots of dreams involving water lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one dream, I was a guest at someone elses house. Everyone else was downstairs socializing so I decided to take a shower b/4 everyone else thought about it. I started undressing in the guest bathroom when I realized there were no towels put out. I had to go thru the master bedroom to the bathroom where there were bathroom cabinets. I rummaged thru &amp; found a bunch of towels. I heard people coming up the stairs so I grabbed a bunch &amp;amp; went back to the other bathroom. Right about that time I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I dreamed I was...somewhere near water. It seemed to be some kind of camping place. There was a covered boardwalk where people camped out for the night. There was a family with 2 kids &amp; a dog. Suddenly it rained alot &amp;amp; the boardwalk flooded. All I could see was the top of the black roof. The rest was submerged. I asked the kids where the dog was. They told me it had drowned. Couldn't tread water for so long. I was very sad. Suddenly I was in the house where I grew up. I was talking to some other people &amp; wanted to go to some store &amp;amp; find out if the water had receeded yet. My mother wanted to go, but she had to put her make-up on first. It was taking her forever &amp; the store would close in 15 minutes. It was going to take her way longer than that to finish. I got angry at her &amp;amp; told her I was leaving right then &amp; either go with me or stay there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was at the store &amp;amp; asking around how things were going. Suddenly it became a fast food place. I went outside &amp; the dog I'd seen earlier &amp;amp; was told had drowned ran up to me. I was so happy to see him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8550695610817212665?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8550695610817212665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8550695610817212665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8550695610817212665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8550695610817212665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/04/water.html' title='Water'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-5325852287217389915</id><published>2007-02-02T22:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T22:58:23.397-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I dreamed I &amp; a man I knew in the dream ran a store together. We had an employee, a boy, who was working to put himself thru college. We were in a large parking garage. I &amp; the man who ran the store with me saw the man shoot up with something. Heroine, maybe. In the thigh. The man took the boy's picture. The boy got upset. We told him he had to stay straight for 1 year &amp; he would get the roll of film back undeveloped. He didn't like that. I grabbed the roll of film &amp; told him I would hide it somewhere &amp; I ran off. The boy ran after me. Everywhere I ran, he was just a few feet behind me. I tried to hide a few times, but he was always there. I ended up at some people's house. One of them was to marry another. She showed me the engagement ring. I tried it on. Someone else showed me a diamond bracelet. I had it in my hand. Suddenly I ran off to try to get ahead of the kid whose pic we had taken. He ended up right behind me. I realized I had the ring &amp; bracelet. I ran northwest to the place where I now work. People were there working. I should have been working too, but I was obviously busy. I snuck in &amp; got an envelope &amp; put the jewelry in it with the kid's name on it &amp; stuck it at the front door. I hoped he would take it back to the owners. If he didn't, it was no longer my responsibility. Then I ran out the back door &amp; hid behind some trucks &amp; jumped over the back wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept running, but always the kid was about 5 feet behind me. Suddenly I was in a different city &amp; was waiting for a public transportation bus. I managed to hop onto the bus &amp; it took off right b/4 the kid got to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-5325852287217389915?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/5325852287217389915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=5325852287217389915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5325852287217389915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/5325852287217389915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-dreamed-i-man-i-knew-in-dream-ran.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-8849244790013534038</id><published>2007-01-31T20:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T20:58:21.752-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a very strange dream last night that I went on a trip with many other people. I had no idea that we were headed for either Mexico or Spain, but we ended up in on of the 2. All I know is the natives spoke Spanish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was night time &amp; everyone prepared to shower. There was a huge house with many bathrooms, but everyone would be camping outside to sleep. I went to the vehicle I had traveled in for my suitcase &amp;amp; went for clean clothes. The only shirts I had packed were sleeveless shirts &amp; I didn't know if it was going to get cold. I just had to hope for the best.  I got in line to shower. I didn't have any towels either, only a wash cloth. Fortunately the hostess had plenty of towels to go around.  At one point I passed her by in a laundry room where she was putting the towels in washers &amp; washing them as fast as people used them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went into a large shower room where there were dispensers on the wall that dispensed shampoo, conditioner, &amp;amp; soap. One need only get undressed &amp; stand underneath the dispenser. We were sprayed with water then the various cleansers. We then moved over to where the shower heads were &amp;amp; rinsed off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I was done, I went back outside. Someone told me my vehicle, which was the Bronco I traded in 5 years ago was in the middle of the road blocking traffic. I was told that the police were chasing an armed robber &amp; were headed for where my truck happened to be parked. I went to move it when the robber ran up from behind my truck. I tried to run &amp;amp; hide &amp; he tried to get inside my truck. I hurried up &amp;amp; relocked it &amp; kept the keys away from him. He shot me many times in the left arm &amp;amp; chest, but I didn't feel it too much. The police took him into custody &amp; I got into my truck to drive myself to a hospital. Suddenly my car sped up &amp;amp; no matter how hard I mashed on the brakes it would not even slow down. I kept spinning it around in circles to avoid mowing people down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the truck was working fine &amp; I was driving to a hospital, but first I had to find somewhere to house my cat who suddenly appeared in my truck with me. I drove down streets feeling increasingly fatigued &amp;amp; drowsy from having slugs in my body. I came to another house in which a man was in his garage working on some kind of renovation. There were many cats laying, sleeping all looking content. I asked if the lady of the house was home. She was in the house. I walked in &amp; explained that I had been shot but I needed someone to watch my cat for me for a few days while I would be in the hospital. I pleaded with her that even though we were strangers I still trusted she would take care of my cat. I gave her $20 &amp;amp; got the food &amp; dish out of my truck. I cried &amp;amp; swore I would be back for my cat as I loved her very much. The woman assured me should would take excellant care of her. As I walked back to my truck again to leave I fainted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-8849244790013534038?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/8849244790013534038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=8849244790013534038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8849244790013534038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/8849244790013534038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-had-very-strange-dream-last-night.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-4479864105612949688</id><published>2007-01-28T17:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-28T18:07:08.457-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have been having more strange dreams lately. I should be posting them more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one dream, I wanted to dye my hair to cover the gray.  My hair is dark brown. I dyed it a  weird darkish gray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I dreamed I was back in the house where I grew up. I was in the kitchen &amp; I had to go to the bathroom. Except there were other people there &amp;amp; we had to take our own buckets &amp; crawl into the cabinets under the sink to pee. I had to wait for a woman who was already there. I had to go real bad &amp;amp; started crying begging her to hurry. She wouldn't out of spite. I finally couldn't hold it anymore so I crawled in, set my bucket down &amp; peed. The woman got angry, but I told her I couldn't help it. The inside of the cabinets were way bigger than the outside. There was also a bathroom attendant there. The place reminded me of a basement living room.  Then I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In another dream I traveled to a different country. First I was on a bus &amp; I was trying to make sure no one near me tried getting into my backpack to steal anything or try taking the one suitcase I had with me. I was on my way to find an apartment to live in. I got off the bus &amp;amp; found the place. It looked like a very large garage. It was nice &amp; warm inside. Near the door was the bathroom. I looked inside. I moved the shower curtain back &amp;amp; the bathtub looked like a very large plastic kid's pool. Blue. Very filthy inside. I called someone on a cell phone &amp; asked what kind of luck they were having. The places he, she, they had looked at had no heat &amp;amp; were more expensive, but they looked more like apartments. I told "them" to come to where I was to have a look, b/c at least it had heat &amp;amp; we could scrub the bathtub clean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-4479864105612949688?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/4479864105612949688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=4479864105612949688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4479864105612949688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4479864105612949688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-have-been-having-more-strange-dreams.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-4897421364345524907</id><published>2006-11-26T16:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T16:28:24.883-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I found myself in a very small town. The stores were just one small strip mall. I was looking for something to eat, so I walked along the stores &amp; peered into each of them. I came to a donut shop &amp; saw to people standing against the back facing out. They had their backs to donut displays. They were trapped behind a wooden security gate that would move every time they tried to move in attempts to escape. It was an older woman &amp; a man. I stood in the door trying to think how to help them. I was suddenly afraid to let the door close, or I might somehow be trapped inside. I found out that the stores were all going out of business because people were scared to go in. And people were scared because the stores had developed minds of their own (hey it's just a dream) &amp; were angry that no one was going in them any more. I guess everthing was computer generated. I finally said quite loudly that it was no wonder the stores were all going out of business. No one would want to visit them because they got trapped inside. Nothing happened. I motioned for the two people to quickly try to ease around the security gate. They did &amp; escaped. We went outside &amp; waited to see if something would happen to us. Nothing did. Next we went into a movie theater lobby for our coats. Once again we each held the door open for each other while the others searched for our coats. The coats had been jammed into some kind of shelving, in an attempt to hide them. At first I couldn't find mine. After some searching, I finally found it hidden under others. I reapeated loudly what I'd said at the donut shop about no one wanting to enter the stores due to fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we left the theater, we discovered there was a town meeting being held to figure out what to do about the computers controlling the stores. I was going to leave, as I was not even a resident of the town. But I stuck around &amp; listened to the townspeople talking outside the stores. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I'm pretty sure I woke up at that point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-4897421364345524907?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/4897421364345524907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=4897421364345524907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4897421364345524907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/4897421364345524907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-found-myself-in-very-small-town.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-116205718478488578</id><published>2006-10-28T13:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:17:54.352-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed that I was with a bunch of people &amp; we needed a shelter. Some of the people added a floor to an existing building. After it was mostly finished, &amp; every one decided to call it a day, a man came along &amp; dropped something heavy thru the floor or ceiling (I had a hard time figuring which it was) to see of it was stable enough to hold everyone. The heavy thing fell thru the drywall. I called out to those who had built it. When we peered thru the hole, we saw lots of blood. We didn't know how it had came to be there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the dream was kind of jumbled; &amp; then i woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-116205718478488578?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/116205718478488578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=116205718478488578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/116205718478488578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/116205718478488578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2006/10/last-night-i-dreamed-that-i-was-with.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-115854632129138772</id><published>2006-09-17T21:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:18.742-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird weekend dreams</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that I was traveling out of town for the weekend. It was a Friday &amp; I was looking for someplace to store my car. I found a park in the town where I grew up. There was some kind of party going on. There was a table set up with a couple women standing there giving out info &amp; whatnot. I went up &amp; asked if I could park my car there for the weekend. They agreed. I told them when I would be back. They took my car key from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the weekend was over &amp; I was back at the park to pick up my car. The woman who I gave my key too handed it back to me. I went to where I'd left my car, parked right behind one car, &amp; in front of another. They were aligned around a pond. Except my car was no longer there. I went back &amp; asked where my car was. The women said it should still be there. They didn't see anyone drive off with it, especially since they had just handed me the key. I thought about this. Then I realized I was driving around in my car that I currently own, &amp; the car I'd left there was a Honda that I used to own many years ago. I realized how impossible this all was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the dream changed &amp; all I remember is trying to escape from somewhere. I remember being handed a bar of soap &amp; taken out of a huge gated house. We walked towards the gates. The man who wouldn't let me leave had to get something or other that was near the gate. He handed me a key &amp; told me to retrieve the object from the other side of the gate, but I was not to try excaping. I pretended to trip &amp; managed to press the key into the soap to make an impression. Who I'd get to make a copy of the key from that I have no idea, but I figured it was worth a try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The previous night I had a dream that a restaurant I walked into was haunted by ghosts &amp; cursed by witches. One man in particular thought he could figure out how to stop the hauntings &amp; break the curses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was an older woman in her 60's who sat at the same booth at the same time every single day. No other customers would go into the restaurant. Suddenly, the man who thought he could break the curse grabbed a shovel &amp; started scooping up some sort of red dust from a pile on the bench opposite from where the woman sat &amp; threw it up onto the hanging light directly above her. It would then fall right on the woman who just sat there. I asked the man what he was doing &amp; he said he was testing out a theory. He wanted to know how the dust would fall from the overhead light, but he couldn't get the woman to move. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one of the waitresses was going to steal a large computer server. I watched her wheel it outside on a cart. We were on the roof of a building. She wheeled it around a corner &amp; went to a narrow furnace closet. She then unhooked the furnace &amp; wheeled the computer server to it &amp; somehow proceeded to hook that up instead. She knew the server would be found missing so she was hiding it until she could get it completely out. I told her it was never going to work. As soon as someone tried to turn on the furnace &amp; it wouldn't go on they'd know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then some "inspectors" showed up to inspect the furnace. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-115854632129138772?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/115854632129138772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=115854632129138772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/115854632129138772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/115854632129138772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2006/09/weird-weekend-dreams.html' title='Weird weekend dreams'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-115758218174188926</id><published>2006-09-06T18:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:18.679-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I did not realize I had the comments set to "comment moderation set to on".  Now I can't get the comment made to show up. Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My reply is that That could, in fact, be the reason I had that dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-115758218174188926?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/115758218174188926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=115758218174188926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/115758218174188926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/115758218174188926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-did-not-realize-i-had-comments-set.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-115749333978289582</id><published>2006-09-05T17:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:18.611-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I had a couple dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the first, I traveled up north to visit family with a few other people. One of them was my older sister. We were close to our destination when I discovered we were walking instead of driving. We came upon a group of people standing in the road. We asked why they were standing there. They said something(s) was blocking the way. We looked. It was some large animals rummaging in the bushes on the side of the road. Someone else said they were racoons, but I thought they were too big to be coons. We edged past them &amp; continued on. By the time we got to the house, it was late &amp; time for bed. We were all to sleep in the same room. There were 2 double beds. Some people didn't mind the floor, so I took a bed. I discovered I was wearing a negligee. One that didn't fit properly. I was a bit embarrassed &amp; made sure I stayed covered with the bed sheet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was suddenly up &amp; dressed properly &amp; someone was showing me their attic. She wanted to get rid of a bunch of things. She thought the attic was haunted. I climbed up &amp; looked through the things. There were all sorts of very old vintage clothes hanging on hangers &amp; hooks. There was a window nearby looking out. As I looked out I thought I saw a young girl outside on a bicycle wearing the white bonnet I held in my hand. Suddenly she disappeared. I was just telling the owner of the house she should look into who owned all the clothes (she said they were in the house when whe bought it) &amp; find out if she had died suddenly when I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-115749333978289582?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/115749333978289582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=115749333978289582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/115749333978289582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/115749333978289582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2006/09/last-night-i-had-couple-dreams.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-115738500285458312</id><published>2006-09-04T11:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:18.529-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a strange dream last night that I was staying the night at someone else's house. They were having a small overnight house party. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to go to the bathroom, so I went into one but found the toilet seat soiled so I found some cleaner &amp; sprayed it down. I went to find something to wipe it off with &amp; found myself in the dining room. Then a couple people knocked on the front door, but I ducked down &amp; hid. I knew they were merely trying to sell something. In a whisper I warned everyone else to hide &amp; not open the door. We waited for them to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then went back to the bathroom, but someone else got there first, so I went in search of another. That one was in the basement &amp; it was a part of living/sleeping quarters of someone who lived there, but had gone away for the weekend. I looked for something to clean that toilet with, but there wasn't anything. I went off &amp; found a maid, who lent me some stuff. I sprayed the toilet, then closed the door &amp; saw a rat sitting there. I left it alone, &amp; went to the sink. The water was trickling from the faucet &amp; there was a towel shoved into the drain. I pulled it out &amp; discovered a baby mouse wrapped up in it. I shook it &amp; it washed down the drain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then went back to wipe the toilet seat off, but couldn't find what I had done with the cloth I was given. It had disappeared. The towel that had been jammed in the sink was dirty, so I couldn't use it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out to find something else like paper towel. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I passed by one of the other bathrooms &amp; found it clean &amp; unoccupied so I went into that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-115738500285458312?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/115738500285458312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=115738500285458312' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/115738500285458312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/115738500285458312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-had-strange-dream-last-night-that-i.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-114117942200815562</id><published>2006-02-28T21:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:18.359-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I first had a dream that I &amp; a whole group of people were going to visit someone in the hospital who was going to die. I thought it inappropriate, but everyone first went into the hospital cafe for something to eat. Since I did not know where the room where the person was, I followed along. I was not hungry so I just decided on somthing to drink. I did not want coffee or pop so I asked for tea. All they had was some with half sugar &amp; half artificial sweetner premixed into it. I did not want that. The guy said they previously had other kinds, he whispered to me that they had found bugs in it. I settled for a glass of ice water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was suddenly in the house where I grew up. I lived there. There were lots of people in green uniforms walking around outside. For a few minutes, there was a large boat on the street. One of the uniformed people stepped onto it &amp; spoke with the owner a few minutes. Another came to my door. I was typing on my computer when they knocked. I was asked if I'd heard any noises coming from the house next door on the corner. At first I told them nothing unusual. They told me no one was supposed to be living there &amp; thought it was either squatters or the house was haunted. Then I said that yeah I heard noises but didn't know no one lived there. I told them it sounded more like haunting noises. As I spoke I looked over at the house &amp; saw through a window that there was a female inside right then. They saw nothing &amp; figured it was a ghost. The ghost had heard me &amp; got real angry &amp; started coming after me when I woke myself up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-114117942200815562?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/114117942200815562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=114117942200815562' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/114117942200815562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/114117942200815562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2006/02/last-night-i-first-had-dream-that-i.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-113906962955830020</id><published>2006-02-03T23:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:18.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I had bought a house 2 streets away from where I grew up. I was walking around the neighborhood. By the time I'd gotten back to the street where I was going to live, either my legs hurt pretty bad, or I was too tired to walk any further. I found myself crawling down the street to the house. The street had never been paved. So I was crawling on dirt &amp; stones &amp; pebbles. I wondered why I even bought a house there as I would never want to live over there again, but I realized it was all I could afford.  Just as I got to the house I realized I hadn't even started to put things away &amp; whatnot &amp; I was getting visitors. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-113906962955830020?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/113906962955830020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=113906962955830020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/113906962955830020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/113906962955830020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-had-dream-last-night-that-i-had.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-113906924300105737</id><published>2006-02-02T22:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:18.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I was compelled to buy some mascara. I do not wear makeup except for special occasions so yes this is unusual. I just had to know if it was true that it would make my lashes long &amp; thick, without clumping. It did ok, but since I know mascara is expensive, I decided I was going to have to wear it everyday just to get my money's worth. Then I decided I needed some eyeshadow to go with it. I suddenly came up with some without having purchased it. But I couldn't get the eyeshadow to stay on my lids. So I used the pressed powder I do have with a makeup brush I have to *set* it. It still wasn't looking right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-113906924300105737?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/113906924300105737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=113906924300105737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/113906924300105737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/113906924300105737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-had-dream-last-night-that-i-was.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-113614184365346214</id><published>2006-01-01T13:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:18.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2 strange dreams last night</title><content type='html'>In the 1st dream, I was at someone's house where there was a party happening.  I just remember being there for a time &amp; walking around mingling (something I don't normally do). I had to go to the bathroom.  There were multiple bathrooms at the house.  I picked 1 that appeared, sounded empty. As I was doing my business, I heard a sound in the bathtub right next to the toilet. I looked behind the shower curtain &amp; saw a woman, fully clothed, in a tub full of water, passed out. I hurried up &amp; finished, &amp; while I washed my hands I shouted for help. Some people ran in &amp; I showed them the woman. No 1 knew who she was or why she was there. I saw in the garbage a crumpled piece of paper &amp; read it. I don't really know what it said, but for some reason we decided it was the reason she did what she did &amp; we had to know who the author was. For other reasons I can't explain no 1 called an ambulance or anything. They decided she would be fine. So I left the bathroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was a boy who was in love with some other girl. He ran out of the house &amp; across the street, possibly to some store or other to purchase something to give to her. Or she had left the house &amp; he ran after her. I don't know. But people were cheering him. Then a news helicopter appeared to report the story. The reporter saw me &amp; interviewed me. He asked me had I ever seen such devotion in someone so young. I told him no, usually people are older. I found it admirable. The reporter then gave me a Detroit Lion's cap. He then offered me a ride in the helicopter while he followed the kid &amp; I accepted. We rode around for a while, then our attention was turned to a really tall, possibly 50 foot, possibly person walking around. All I saw were black pants I thought were covering very tall stilts. The 'thing' was trying to dance or something, but people were scared of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then remember feeling the back of my hair &amp; feeling that it had knotted up. I needed to find a hair brush. At first I had gone back into the house &amp; went to a different bathroom. There, once again, was the woman I'd found in the tub. At some point, she had woken &amp; gone into this bathroom, filled the tub, gotten in, &amp; again passed out. Again, I called for help. This time I figured I give the reporter the note I'd found &amp; see if he could investigate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I continued my quest to find a hairbrush. In the meantime I was walking around &amp; trying to work the knot out of my hair. I went outside &amp; headed towards a couple other houses. In between them was a set of stairs, where, at the top was what seemed like another town or something. I had to get past the 'thing' on stilts. There were lots of people running everywhere, I tried getting past the thing without him noticing me, but he saw me anyway. Again I thought he was just playing around, &amp; as I climbed the stairs, everyone else was going down, screaming &amp; scared of him/it. That was when I tried to decide if I should keep going, or turn around. Suddenly my throat felt like I'd gotten a bit of dust in it &amp; I started coughing. I needed a drink of water &amp; thought maybe I could get up the stairs &amp; get thru the 'town" to where there was water without the 'thing' noticing me, except it was emptying quickly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up really choking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After eventually falling back to sleep, &lt;strong&gt;I had a dream&lt;/strong&gt; that I was with another group of people who wanted to, or had to parachute from a plane into an ocean, or lake or something. At first everyone thought I would too. I went up with them, but I didn't have the nerve to jump. I claimed I was just writing a paper on it &amp; needed perspectives &amp; other thoughts on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strangely, for people jumping into water, they had on thick coats, b/c the water was going to be cold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the dream kind of jumped around. I think I was still on the plane, but it was real low to the water. I looked out towards the beach where everyone else had swam. There were a bunch of boxes on the plane &amp; we had to get the boxes off &amp; onto the beach to the people. Some of the people had taken the smaller ones with them, but there were much bigger ones to get to them. Then, someone threw something in that I needed &amp; it was a way to get me to go after it. Except I didn't want to. But I resigned myself to having to jump in the water. I can swim &amp; all, but I thought the water was cold. I finally jumped in &amp; decided it wasn't so cold after all, &amp; swam toward shore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-113614184365346214?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/113614184365346214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=113614184365346214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/113614184365346214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/113614184365346214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2006/01/2-strange-dreams-last-night.html' title='2 strange dreams last night'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-113115021168437929</id><published>2005-11-04T19:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:18.004-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed I was in a classroom, I think.  There were several other people there.  The class finished and it was time for a lunch break.  Everyone else wanted to chip in for pizzas, but I didnt b/c I had brought my lunch.  A couple pieces of pizza.  I was following a girl into another classroom where the lunch was being eaten.  I don't know if she didnt realize I was behind her b/c she let the door slam shut.  I reached out to grab it &amp; pretended it slammed on my hand.  So I went in &amp; said I needed everyone's ID &amp; insurance information.  (I have no idea why.)  Then I left &amp; went back into the other class room.  After class started up agian I suddenly realized my vision was getting very blurry.  It occured to me I didn't have my contact lenses in nor had I remembered to grab my glasses b/4 leaving the house.  I suddenly started crying.  A woman next to me asked me what was wrong.  I told her about my eyes &amp; said there was no way I'd be able to get home if I can't see.  My vision kept going blurry then it would be as if my contacts were in.  I had to hope my vision would be ok until I got home, then i woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-113115021168437929?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/113115021168437929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=113115021168437929' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/113115021168437929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/113115021168437929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2005/11/last-night-i-dreamed-i-was-in.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-113114816318282680</id><published>2005-11-03T18:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:17.934-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream I was dressing up to go somewhere.  Possibly a funeral.  Just as I was leaving someone I'm supposed to know looked at me &amp; asked was going looking like that.  I asked what was wrong.  Seems I had previously dyed my hair &amp; my roots were showing.  My hair is really brunette except in the dream my hair was really blond dyed brunette.  &amp; I was trying to let it grow back to it's natural color.  I hadn't thought to dye it the color it's supposed to be so I didn't have different color roots.  But I went to a store &amp; bought root touch up in brunette.  I got back home &amp; was about to work on my hair, but as I started parting it, I noticed my hair had whole sections missing.  I still tried using the dye, but then my scalp started burning really bad.  The person who said something in the first place told me I prob shouldn't be using the stuff, it might be what's making my hair fall out.  So I decided to forget the idea of fixing my hair b/c my scalp kept burning.  Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-113114816318282680?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/113114816318282680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=113114816318282680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/113114816318282680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/113114816318282680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2005/11/last-night-i-had-dream-i-was-dressing.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-112641087207027708</id><published>2005-09-10T23:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:17.861-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed I was at some naval or air force military base investigating how someone had died many years ago.  At first I thought it was a natural death, but someone hinted that it may not have been.  Also I &amp; the other person &amp; possibly some others entered into a top security room where there were bookcases, display cases, desks &amp; file cabinets &amp; filing boxes in it.  We weren't really supposed to be looking thru the stuff, but someone had encouraged me to.  I was trying to be discreet b/c there was a security guard nearby, but he didn't seem to be looking at me.  I found what appeared to be suspicious paper currency &amp; receipts inside a box.  I snuck some out &amp; put it in my pants pocket for later scrutiny.  We then exited the room into another museum looking room with lots of photos &amp; stuff on the walls.  Then the female wanting me to investigate in the first place wanted me to interview a guard who she thought would know about the "death".  I agreed, but it turned out I had to be "patted down" to make sure I had no recording device or weapons.  I didn't want him to know I'd taken the money so I made an excuse to go back in the room &amp; stuffed it into the box I originally found it.  Then went back to the other room.  The guard started checking me.  I thought it was odd that they didn't have a female pat me down, &amp; I was uncomfortable b/c my jeans were really tight to the point of being uncomfortable.  The guard got a little too into what he was doing.  I finally told him that foreplay doesn't last as long, he got a little embarrassed &amp; apologized &amp; said we could start the interview.  In the meantime the female I was helping was discreetly looking thru items she wasn't supposed to while the guards attention was on me.  She found a book she thought had clues.  She pointed to it &amp; indicated I needed to somehow smuggle it out of the place &amp; take it with me.  I was trying to figure out how b/c I couldn't hide it on me b/c my pants were too tight.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-112641087207027708?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/112641087207027708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=112641087207027708' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112641087207027708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112641087207027708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2005/09/last-night-i-dreamed-i-was-at-some.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-112544869676837847</id><published>2005-08-30T20:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:17.765-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Had a bad dream that I was at werk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Werking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a nightmare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-112544869676837847?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/112544869676837847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=112544869676837847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112544869676837847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112544869676837847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2005/08/had-bad-dream-that-i-was-at-werk.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-112535914489150332</id><published>2005-08-29T19:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:17.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I had a strange dream that I was watching a male interview Courtney Cox Arquette &amp; David Arquette.  He asked questions I do not now remember, but he had given her some lingerie as a gift.  She told him it was highly inappropriate to do something like that &amp; she was quite offended.  Her husband seemed unbothered by it.  He just sat there.  They had their baby with them who got fussy.  She turned around &amp; bent over &amp; what she was wearing was black panties &amp; a black bra &amp; had on a sheer white robe type dress.  The interviewer apologized for the gift but asked her how she could think it was inappropriate considering what she was wearing to the interview being telecast live on TV.  She started to ask what was wrong with her outfit, when she considered that maybe he had a point.  She hadn't realized the dress was completely see thru.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the dream changed &amp; I was back at the house where I grew up.  Actually the garage.  The sun was blazing hot &amp; I had taken refuge in the garage.  There was desert sand &amp; dirt everywhere--no grass or even sidewalk.  There was a dog with me who had approached me after having lost his owner.  Then another male approached &amp; we would leave for....somewhere as soon as the sun started to set &amp; it would be slightly cooler.  In the meantime we had to be careful of lions &amp; tigers roaming around.  The tigers weren't as dangerous as the lions.  They would eat people.  The man set a trap for when we were ready to leave.  He'd found animal bones that was still intact, minus the skull.  He somehow rigged it so it the spine was laying on the ground &amp; the ribcage was facing up.  He made it so the ribs would spread apart, then when a lion would walk over &amp; paw it, the ribcage would snap onto the paw--similar to a bear trap.  We then left the garage &amp; to the right was a tiger laying there feasting on something.  As we walked toward the street the dog tried following me, but the man didn't want it to.  But I told him I felt safer with the dog beside me.  It had scared away a lion b/4 I'd gotten to the garage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I saw another dog in the next yard.  It saw me &amp; got up &amp; started coming towards me.  The man said no way we could handle 2 dogs, but I couldn't leave it there.  Just then a woman showed up &amp; saw the first dog--turned out it was hers.  It didn't want to leave my side at first, but I asked the woman if she had anywhere to go, if not she could travel with us.  No, she said she was headed for some relatives' house.  So I told the dog to go with her &amp; I'd have the 2nd one with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-112535914489150332?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/112535914489150332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=112535914489150332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112535914489150332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112535914489150332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2005/08/last-night-i-had-strange-dream-that-i.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-112414557752116178</id><published>2005-08-15T18:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:17.547-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Soul sucking shadow</title><content type='html'>Last night's dream was that a shadow floated around at night &amp; stole people's souls.  It left behind empty shells of people with big weird bumps on their faces &amp; bodies.  I was in a family's house possibly helping with babysitting &amp; cleaning, preparing for the parents of the mother to arrive from out of town.  That was the same time the shadow appeared in the town.  It was in the afternoon, but it was getting dark in the house.  I saw the shadow thing upstairs &amp; we tried turning on all the lights to keep it away.  It had started sucking the husband's soul &amp; the bumps appeared on his face.  Then the mother's parents showed up.  I tried getting them back out of the house, but they didn't believe what was happening.  I literally tried pushing them out the door, but they wouldn't go.  Then the mother of the house ran to the top of the stairs &amp; told me to get her parents out, that her husband's &amp; childrens' souls had been sucked out &amp; it was sucking hers too.  Her face then started to blister.  We ran out.  We ended up in a well lit 24 hour Grocery store with a few other survivors.  At first we didn't think the soul sucker would find us as long as we stayed in the lit store, but we were wrong.  We were trying to figure out what to do when an older man &amp; his grandson had gotten a shuttle bus type vehicle started &amp; pulled it up to the front of the store.  We were all going to get on &amp; get out of town except someone asked us if we believed the old man was really trying to save us.  He tried convincing us it was the shadow in disguise.  The doubter kept asking us if we believe he could take us to safety b/4 it got dark when we were all in danger.  He convinced us we were safer in the well lit store until the next morning.  So we all got back out of the bus &amp; went back in the store.  Then I saw the shadow drifting thru the store towards us.  We all kept moving &amp; I realized we were wrong when we thought a person had to be in darkness in order for the shadow to suck their soul.  That is when I started wondering if the person who had convinced us to stay in the store did it in order to get us killed.  I asked why would the person lie to us about the grandfather's motive for getting us out.  Then I kept saying, "oh I think I get it" still trying to figure it all out.  Then I said the person who didn't want us to leave was probably the 1 who had summoned the shadow thing, but why?  Then I (thankfully) woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-112414557752116178?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/112414557752116178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=112414557752116178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112414557752116178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112414557752116178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2005/08/soul-sucking-shadow.html' title='Soul sucking shadow'/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-112405857267415196</id><published>2005-08-14T18:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:17.419-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I had moved to a new place to live.  I think it was a house, but it was small like the apt I live in now. Strangely I thought it appeared that one couldn't tell where the living room ended &amp; kitchen began.  I thought it was partially b/c of the rust colored carpet.  It extended a little too far into the kitchen.  There also seemed to be about 3 or 4 stairs that went up into the kitchen where there was a counter at the top step.  Looking from the stairs upward, there was a washer &amp; dryer to the right of the counter.  I needed to do laundry &amp; I looked into the washer &amp; saw I had left a load previuosly.  I put those into the dryer underneath.  I then went outside to my car to get the other dirty laundry.  Suddenly I found myself in a wheelchair wheeling myself out of an old Kmart store that used to be about a 1/2 mile or less from where I grew up.  I was wheeling to my car. My younger sister was just driving into a parking space 2 to the left of my car.  Another woman pulled into the space 2 to the right of my car.  I got to my car &amp; opened the back hatch &amp; pulled myself from the chair into the back where all my dirty clothes were strewn.  I proceeded to gather up the clothes &amp; throw them out of the car into a basket or something.  Both my sister &amp; the other woman proceeded to do the same thing.  Like the building had been turned into a laundrymat.  I had a sense of urgency, I didn't want anyone feeling obligated to ask me if I needed help.  I got all my things &amp; wheeled myself back into the building.  At that point it turned back into the place I had just moved into, &amp; I realized I could not get up the stairs to the washer.  Just as I was figuring out what was going on I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-112405857267415196?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/112405857267415196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=112405857267415196' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112405857267415196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112405857267415196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2005/08/i-had-dream-that-i-had-moved-to-new.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-112407518981396373</id><published>2005-08-13T22:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:17.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed I went to Jimmy John's for lunch for people at werk.  I've never really been there but it is about 2 miles from werk.  So in the dream, just I got to the place someone started shooting people.  I'm not sure if he was caught, but the police came &amp; everyone had to wait while we were all questioned.  As we sat, I recognized the voice of a DJ from a radio station I listen to, so I asked him to sort of entertain us while we had to wait.  Of course he didn't want to at first, didn't think he could.  But he did it.  B/4 we knew it, the police were leaving &amp; letting us go back in.  So I got in line to order the sandwiches, except there were so many people who had been waiting that there was a real long line.  I got the sandwiches ordered but a couple people had wanted special drinks &amp; that line was even longer.  So I decided to wait for it to go down a little.  In the meantime I started a conversation with someone.  Again, b/4 I knew it it was late.  My watch showed 11:30 which would have been wrong, but I went back &amp; discovered the restaurant was closed.  There was some sort of note for me that my sandwiches were at another store, a bakery I think, at the other end of the strip mall.  I went down there &amp; asked a female who was making cakes about it.  She handed me my order.  I wondered about drinks &amp; asked her if she had what I was supposed to get.  No, she said.  So I went back to werk &amp; told everyone, I hoped all the sandwiches were there, &amp; told them what had happened &amp; why it took me so long &amp; why there was no drinks.  But I told them they had to close b/4 I could get the drinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-112407518981396373?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/112407518981396373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=112407518981396373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112407518981396373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112407518981396373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2005/08/last-night-i-dreamed-i-went-to-jimmy.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6974575.post-112389027380606607</id><published>2005-08-12T18:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T14:12:17.357-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I had a new job werking in an office with a few other females.  The boss had left for the day so 1 female decided to watch a video on VHS.  It was about a woman who was doing an investigation of some sort.  As we are watching, more people who werk for the company come in &amp; sit down on the floor to watch.  The tv is hidden under a desk.  As we are watching, the girl on the tape is searching thru trunks or something in a large room.  The owner catches her &amp; suddenly the tape skips &amp; shows her laying on the floor.  I ask the woman to rewind it some so we can see what happened.  She tries to but we realize there is a section missing on the tape.  Then there is a computer tower nearby &amp; DVDs or CDs start popping out of the drive.  A man sitting near my takes them out &amp; hands them to me.  There is a endless supply of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I'm no longer there, I am outside &amp; I was trying to escape from someone.  A Pierce Brosnan type person suddenly came along &amp; began helping me.  I realized I've had this dream b/4.  &amp; everytime, I am not wearing any pants.  I think I start out wearing a skirt, but it ends up getting torn to shreds.  I am only wearing a t-shirt that only goes to about my hips.  &amp; it's cold out with snow on the ground.  The guy takes me into a museum type place.  It has lots of artifacts on display &amp; there are lots of people milling about.  In 1 area there is a line of people looking at stuff in order.  There are benches so they can sit &amp; wait their turn to look at various objects sitting in small wicker baskets on a real long table.  As people look at the items, they scoot over on the bench.  The guy &amp; I get in the line.  It is moving towards a set of closed double doors.  As we wait, I pick up a basket of dried pasta that is in the shape of &lt;a href="http://www.generalmills.com/corporate/brands/brand.aspx?catID=438"&gt;Bugles snacks&lt;/a&gt; but larger.  I looked thru them, then handed the basket to a girl sitting to my right.  By then we'd made out way to the doors &amp; he grabbed my arm &amp; pulled me thru the doors.  We thought it would either lead to a way outside, or it was a room in which we could hide.  Except there were lots of people inside.  They were getting ready for a large supper.  I felt real dumb dressed only in a t shirt &amp; underwear.  I wondered if I could get a pair of pants from someone, but he told me they would miss the pants &amp; know I had stolen them.  I'd have to wait until we could get somewhere to get a pair.  That's when I realized I've had this dream a few times &amp; it's always the same.  I was determined that next time I would be fully clothed.  Some of the women invited us to sit &amp; eat with them.  The guy told them we had to get going so we went out a different door &amp; ended up outside.  Suddenly the guy left me &amp; started walking away.  I thought he was just going to leave me there to fend for myself with someone still chasing us, but he didn't go far.  There was some kind of vehicle coming towards us &amp; he talked to the driver who got out &amp; we jumped in.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6974575-112389027380606607?l=asleeporawake.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/feeds/112389027380606607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6974575&amp;postID=112389027380606607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112389027380606607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6974575/posts/default/112389027380606607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://asleeporawake.blogspot.com/2005/08/i-had-dream-last-night-that-i-had-new.html' title=''/><author><name>BloggerChick</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18165662491124584979</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
