I had a dream the other night that I had just gotton married. It was weird and didn't feel like I thought marriage would feel like. It was a bit foreboding... I remember that my bride had to leave for some reason right after the wedding, and I went to stay with my parents for a few days before she returned. She wasn't very happy about going and that made the first few days of our marriage very hard. In fact, I felt particularly bad because in the dream, I didn't tell my family that I had gotton married. We were married in secret and didn't even have a chance to go out and find proper rings. My ring was actually a girls ring with a clump of green metal where a jewel would normally be. I turned it around on my hand so that all that was visible from my backhand side was the band. I also tried to live at home for a few days hiding my hand from view of my family, because they would feel bad about not having been invited to the wedding. When my bride returned, (I don't know who she is in real life... she had dark hair and dark skin) she wasn't happy at all with the way things were going. She didn't cry, but she didn't have to. I took my ring off and I took her ring off and I said that we would have to act like we were starting over. We couldn't separate because that would be getting a divorce even though we were legally married. We would just have to act like we were starting to date again and go through the whole process again, including the wedding for our parents. She didn't like the idea but couldn't think of anything better. It was very difficult trying to get along with someone in that situation. We had to constantly remind ourselves that no matter what it looked like, we knew that in the end we would be together and happy again. It was like we read the last page of a book first and now we have to go through the whole novel to get back there.

Last night I dreamt that I was annointed to be a Pastor. It was all very exciting, but I didn't know what my role as Pastor would be. I went to my Pastor's office to ask but he was busy with other people, so I arranged a hike up Bishop's peak with a bunch of kids. I brought a bunch of adult chaperones with me and every once in a while, some of the kids got tired. I said that it was okay for them to stop and wait where they were with a chaperone until the rest of us came back. At the top, I talked to the kids that were left, that they were not to think less of the kids who didn't make it up to the top. God gives us different abilities and we are responsible for using them to their limits and to being obedient. Those kids are waiting for us to return patiently and whatever they lack in ability, they make up for in faith. The ones who stopped sooner have to wait longer for us to return than the ones who stopped later. If it were me, I would rather work to get to the top than have to wait for a long time. We went back down the mountain, collecting small groups of kids as we went, and when we came down, the kids parents had gathered to pick them up. Some of them were worried about us climbing a mountain, but after talking with their kids, had peace about it. It was a weird dream, a bit unusal since most of my dreams involve a bit more action than a nature hike. No one died in this dream, no fighting took place. Just a little complaining and look at that, a moral.

I had a dream that I was in San Francisco. I ran into the manager of Barnes and Noble (where I used to work in and out of my dreams) and he asked me to meet him in his office. Barnes and Noble had been remodeled since I had been there. (Only in my dream. In real life, it is exactly the same.) It is now the first two stories of a skyscraper. I walked in and someone asked me to help him find a cookbook. I tried, but I couldn't find the section. I found where it used to be. I found books that should have been next to it (like nutrition and health books), but we couldn't find cooking. I also couldn't find the manager's office. I found an elevator and rode that up, but I got off at the wrong floor and there was a realtor. He showed me around the five story penthouse and asked how I would like to live here. I asked what the price was and he handed me a piece of paper with seven boxes on it. I asked what the boxes mean and he said that each one was a million dollars. So I asked, "You mean this place is seven million dollars?" He said, "A month." I told him I'd have to check with my committee. I finally found the managers office down on the first floor. He wanted me to work for him again. I told him that I didn't think I was going to. He was a little agitated that it took me so long to find his office, but after I told him that I couldn't find it, he decided to go to lunch. We walked outside together talking about other stuff and a plane flew low overhead between the tall buildings and around a corner. Ileft the manager there and followed the plane. My job was a secret. I was a counter-spy. I worked for the government secretly, but lived a normal life until I needed to rise to the occasion. The plane was an enemy plane and it being so conspicuous made me believe that there was something urgent at hand. The plane crashed next to a building and I met two other agents at the door who had saw the plane like me. We all had out issued hand guns and we took them out and followed a 15A formation as we searched the building. Floors one-through-five were clear and on the sixth floor, we were seperated by a small explosion. My gun flew out of my hands and pieces of ceiling fell between me and my partners. I called at them through the burning rubble that I was okay and I'll just go around and meet them on the other side. I found my gun and walked along the sprinkler infested hallways. I knew that the enemy agent was on this floor and I knew that he was alone. It was a single person plane. I heard gunshots and poked my head around the corner to see one of my partners nursing his side and the other one with her hands in the air. Both guns were on the ground a few feet in front of them. I could not see the enemy becasue he was just out of my frame of vision through the door at the end of the hallway. I snuck down the hallway, slow and invisible. He had his gun pointed at my partners. Thinking about it now, I think he was scared. I could see it in his eyes. I should have recognized it, but I wasn't thinking about that at that time. I was angry that he shot my partners and tore up the street in my town and tried to blow me up earlier. I could see him, but I wasn't happy with the target he presented. He was yelling something at my partners, but I didn't hear what. I yelled no partictular word, but just made a loud noise to make him turned and I shot him just right of his heart. He wobbled back and my partners both dove for their guns and they each shot him once. One in the leg and the other in the side. I took the enemy to an office room and rummaged through the drawers. I found some zip ties to tie him up with and a pellet gun. I asked him some questions. He didn't want to answer. I didn't like him trying to be defiant. He was dying and he still didn't want to answer my question. I shot his wounds with the pellet gun. He screamed. I asked my questions again. My partners had left to head off the police. We didn't need police involvement. They were good for one thing. Keeping reporters and citizens off our back. He screamed and still didn't answer my questions. maybe he didn't understand English. Maybe he just didn't want to understand English. I shot him again. He screamed. I asked my questions again. I didn't feel pity for him at all. I didn't feel remorse or compassion. I felt angry. I was angry at him for trying to blow me up. I shot him again. He said, 'Doctor.' He did speak English. I shot him again. Then I woke up and I was late for church. That's weird, I thought I've never dreamed about torture before... well, not on the giving end anyway.

I had a dream last night that an old man came to me for help. I was in charge of this walled town back in the old west. It was kinda like a fort, but non-military. I ran it with my militia. He said that he was being chased by this guy in a bowler. He didn't call him that, but I don't remember his name. The guy in the bowler had a militia of his own and we ended up shooting it out. My milita was better, and we were beating them, but the old man went out to confront the man in the bowler. He said something (I was too far away, shooting other people) that I couldn't hear, but the man in the bowler got scared, then mad, and drew a gun on the old man. I took aim with my rifle and shot his bowler off. He got scared and fell down in his confusion. The old man took the gun and shot the man who previously wore a bowler several times in the head. I realized that he was evil, and that this whole little battle was planned so he could have his revenge on the bowler man. My men and men on the other side were dying needlessly. So I shot the old man.

I had a dream that I was in a war. My unit was sandwiched between two units of enemy and caught in the crossfire. I did get more than my share of them, but to do that, I made a bold move and stood up from behind my cover. I lasted a few seconds, enough for me to think that what I accomplished was worth it, and I was shot. I felt one go in my back, low (off the stomach and to the right). Another one went through my left thigh from the front. I spun as I fell and I could remember watching my fellow soldiers cower behind the cover, but I knew that they wouldn't last. They were scared. They started at me with wide eyes and gripped their guns too tight. You need to be loose. My fingers held the handle of my gun lightly, I couldn't hold on anymore,but I wasn't letting go. I didn't call out with any words of wisdom. I used whatever willpower I had to slow my breathing and heart beat. Trying not to panic as a chill swept into my body. I was shot again, but I couldn't feel it.

I didn't die.

I woke up in a bedroom. The government had found me, still alive, and brought me back to safety. They removed the bullets (7) and put them in a jar next to my bed. I took them out and fingered them. my arms hurt. One of them was shot. I had bandages and casts all over under ripped pajamas. A little girl of about four or five came in to smile at me. After a pleasant but silly conversation, she ran to fetch her mother. The mother explained to me that the government (who was losing the war) didn't have a lot of room in it's hospitals for the patients so they asked familes to volunteer to care after wounded soilders. They were in charge of feeding me and giving me medicine and taking me to the hospital for tests. Her husband was serving in the war somewhere. Her, her daughter and her thirteen-year-old son became my family as I healed and re-learned how to walk. I had a cane and a limp for a long time afterwards. After I healed, I wanted to go back to the front, but the dream ended instead.

Last night I dreamed that I was in Disneyland with my brothers and we rode the pirates of the carribean ride. After that they wanted to go, but I told them that we could't go to disneyland to ride one ride once and leave. So we found a play structure and climbed on the monkey bars. There was more to the dream, but I was distracted by actual life and I forgot.

Gotta Pee

I had to pee last night. So, coincidentally, I dreamed about being in a
house that was being remodeled. It was huge, with more bathrooms than I
could count. None of them worked, but there were many. What's more was
that there were toilets everywhere, in the middle of the living room,
bedroom, everywhere. These didn't work either. I ran around the house
checking every room, every toilet for one that worked and I may have
found one, but the door was closed. I think someone was in there. Both
good and bad, I was not able to relieve myself in my frustrating dream
and felt I was about to explode. Then I woke up, and I didn't really
have to go too badly. Weird, huh?