2:45 this morning, I woke up from one of the slow, mundane dreams that I’ve been having lately. If not for the weird physical contact during the dream, I might not have remembered it.

    The dream starts out in another club or music venue where the crowd is right up against the stage, close to the action. The part of the dream where I enter with some friends is very vague and I don’t know who I am at this point. The stage and surrounding area are painted all black, the lighting from the bar and people coming in from the entryway was the only illumination. The stage lights provided some more muted ambiance. A group gets on stage, they are – you guessed it – dressed in all black, black T’s, jeans, and boots and rip into a hard metal set reminiscent of Metallica (I wish that I could remember the words to the song) 

    The lead singer is becoming agitated because the crowd doesn’t seem to be into the music for some reason. My friend is bopping and visibly enjoying himself. The leads anger starts to reflect in his voice and seems to grow large and push through the crowd until they realize they should be moving to the song. My friend noticed that I wasn’t moving either and said something to the effect “C’mon dance already” as soon as I start moving I’m enjoying myself and notice the crowd is finally into the song. The night seems to fade out and I felt like we leave the party and go to my friends place to chill at his apartment.

    We get there and hang out, having drinks, I get sleepy and somehow end up in bed, I remember falling asleep in the dream

    I feel someone kissing my neck, spooning me with a hardon, hands groping on me and wakes me up, my friend is all over me – I jump up out of the bed and yell “What the fuck man?” He’s still high and try’s to have me calm down by saying “Relax” – this pisses me off. I punch him dead in the face, grab my clothes and leave his apartment. Taking the walk of shame, I couldn’t believe that the guy I thought was a friend would take advantage of the situation. 

    My apartment is only on the other side of the road, maybe fifty yards away, I get upstairs knowing that he might come over to apologize or try to start something because I hit him. Wearing a robe from his apartment I go to check myself in the bathroom mirror – I’m not a man… The dream flipped the situation on me, I was certain that my friend was being a jerk, now I felt guilt as the woman – I had feelings for him and must have messed up any chance at a relationship with him. The realization hit me and I begin to cry, sinking down in front of the window that had bars (Bad part of town?) looking down from the second floor over to his building.

    A few minutes later I see him walking over, he’s dressed and stops a few yards away. I’m wondering if I should buzz him up, I’m conflicted. I think he sends me an apology via telepathy – He knows that I’m torn whether to accept. He throws up his hands and walks back to his building… this part of the dream fades out.


    I’m caught in the grip of the dream, The next scene starts, I drop in to a strangely familiar room, it reminds me of one of my first weird dreams – a sitting room at a mansion. There is an ornate oriental rug of gold and red, Louis the XIV furniture and a long oak table. My mind is trying to place the room at this different angle, I think about the meeting room with the Cabal… A man comes inside the room, he’s the boss or something. He’s wearing a Mr. Rogers style sweater that reminds me of a bowling shirt, there is some deception trying to keep me involved in the scenario about to play out. “I mean to hire you today” the conversation starts as if we had been speaking earlier for my “interview” – “I want you to give a presentation to the other employees” he continues without missing a beat. My mind is trying to figure this person out, I know he’s “rich” maybe a billionaire or something. He guides me by the shoulder, I tell him “What will I talk about, I don’t have anything prepared?” with a charming smile he stops me in the hallway “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine – Just be yourself” Where have I heard that before? Suddenly I recognize part of the charade that is keeping me interested – he looks a little like Patrick Stewart! Before I can ask him about the resemblance or lose the grip of the dream – he brings me into a conference room (been there before) and introduces me – “I would like to introduce your new team member” everyone looks up and greets me kindly – PS says “Go on, they’re really nice” pats me on the shoulder and closes the door leaving me to it.

    I begin my talk, not feeling pressured at the least, explaining my expertise and other details that unfortunately didn’t make it past my review. Speaking with confidence, I fielded questions from my new coworkers, they seemed impressed by my ability to answer their inquiries clearly. By the time my talk was over, smiles and a few applause from the group made me feel better about the situation. I notice two African American women giving me the eye as we leave – PS says to me “Oh, I see your popularity with the ladies is starting off on the right foot” I blush but don’t know who I am yet. Out of curiosity I pull out from the body I’m in, to get a better look from an astral perspective. I’m young, handsome – but not me. Patrick Stewart was not going to let me leave the dream just yet. We exit the offices outside to a park that is supposed to be set up like a baseball field but the dimensions are off and everything is dusty like Africa. He begins to tell me the advantages of his wealth and all the women he has at his beck and call – that he keeps them in competition for his affection – this part felt like telepathic communication, his arm still over my shoulder. I see the women he’s talking about, they are on the dusty field wearing tight fitting brown burlap sack outfits with a hooded mask on top to keep out the dust as they played softball. To get Patrick’s attention they would hit a softball our way – he tells me “Throw it back, they love playing this game” I pick up the strange softball that looks like a mini tumble-weed but can’t make the throw all the way back. The women groan and laugh that my throw was so weak. I try again and still miss the mark – he’s found a way to keep me engaged (pun) On the third try I make it to the woman who catches it and pitches it to another who cracks a long shot over our heads past the fence. One woman rips off her mask and runs out to get the ball, she’s fast. I recognize her as one of the women that made eyes at me back at the office. 

    Something was off, this isn’t right – these women didn’t have to be his “playthings”. I reconsidered the offer of the job and was about to let him know that my conscious was not OK with this arrangement because of his activities. I turn to talk to him and he’s now over 8 ft. tall, bringing his long spindly hand on my shoulder again as if to say “But we have an agreement”…

I’m snapped out of the dream, like a tether is broken leaving me floating in the darkness. Slowly I wake up and check the time. The dream is fading fast and I feel confused. I want to go to the bathroom and just lay there silently… slowly the dreams come back and I try to sort them out.

Recurring themes again – Africa, the conference room, the “Boardroom”, the office… 

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Gabe Miranda lives a stones throw from uptown Charlotte, enjoys Star gazing and creating chaos on Twitter. Currently working on editing diary posts to self publish his first book.