I was on board a plane. I was in a lounge inside the plane when it landed. There was a container below our seats, and I intentionally left my bag there. The female flight attendant would usually catch the passengers' attention by announcing that someone left his or her baggage, but this time she forgot to do it. So I could go home with one less bag, and wait for the bag to be sent by the airline company. The bag I left was a black one I bought in Manchester I usually carry with me.
I went into a university building where graduate
students majoring in art have their offices. The graphic artists'
offices are all on one side of the building, and each office was
shared by several students. Opposite from the graphic artists'
offices were those for musicians. They had one office for each
student. The office with a big analog synthesizer was used by a
beautiful girl wearing a dark clothing, who was in love with the
musician next door. I was a bit jealous, but I was encouraged by the
existence of such beautiful people.
I left the office building, thinking how on Earth such beautiful people could be in such an average university of art. Probably, my standard has to be rewritten. I deeply regretted my mistake of not going to an art school.
I walked through a crossroad with a lot of people. It was hot and I took my shirt off. I walked up a slope filled with green, where a half-naked woman was lying, panting with pleasure. Everyone was watching her. She was a street actress.
There were a lot of street performers on top of the hill. I passed them. Then there was a sudden rain. I went under eaves of some store to avoid being wet. There was a man in a white shirt in the pouring rain. He was standing still for a moment, and then suddenly moved rapidly out of my sight.
But he was still there. He talked to me in a northern Japanese accent, and I didn't know what he was saying. Then he attacked me. So I killed him and left the scene.
I was inside a house. I pasted my bread with a blue paint I used for some painting, and ate it. Although my stomach was fine for the moment, I knew my behaviour was terribly wrong. I decided to redo it with a proper pasting. Then I visited the office building at a university (there was a twist of time).
What I was doing was beside I was going to visit the university, I was preparing for an F-1 race. I was one of the drivers of our team.
I drove, but it had nothing to do with our team winning the race. Some other drivers took care of it. In fact, I was thinking while I was driving, "I'm going to tell everyone that I drove an F-1 car in my dream although I don't even have a driver's license." There was a girl driving there too, and she was a much better driver.
My mother was excited because her daughter (she doesn't have one in reality) was appearing in a Ryuichi Sakamoto concert. While my mother and I were half asleep in a Japanese tatami room, musicians and dancers were getting ready for the show in the next room. My mother was a close friend of a hispanic dancer, and had a chat with her cheerfully. I had something in my throat then and could not join the conversation.
A detective came and wanted to talk with me about a murder case before the concert. I said OK, wondering if he knew that I killed the guy. My mother was explained the situation by the detective.
I rode on a separate truck from the one carried the musicians, dancers and my mother to the concert hall. On my truck, there was the guy I killed on board alive.
I was thinking that the important thing was to know which pieces of
information I was not supposed to know.
A bunch of people from a country area took a trip to a city. I was one of them. Every night, we made a mess at the small hotel we were staying at.
At one night, when we returned from the dinner we had outside, the hotel employees were gathered at the entrance to see us. I thought they must have been angry at our behaviours, and I tried to apologize. But it was the hotel employees who wanted to apologize to us. It turned out that some of the employees sexually abused one of the girls in my group who was still a minor. We got really mad and shouted at them.
One of the girls in the group was my girlfriend, but it was meant to be a secret. We had a date secretly in a building where you could shop, eat and rent books. When the girl and I went to a buffet in the building, I realized that a couple of girls from the group were following us. I said to my girlfriend that it was likely that our secret was known by the girls. She panicked. I told her that I could fool them. I turned and said "hi," to the girls pretending that there was nothing more than a friendship between my girlfriend and me.
At a hotel, a rather expensive one, a farewell party was held for my friend. There was our common friend wearing a white tuxedo who was staying at the hotel. He acted as if it was his party. He was a celebrity. Everybody seemed to dislike him in the party. But actually, he was a lonely person. When everybody went to bed, he was awake alone, dancing to a waltz. I felt sorry for him. I got dressed like a woman by wrapping myself with a bed sheet, and danced with him.
I met one of the ex-colleagues of mine in a convenience store when I was trying to buy a piece of cake. One of my current colleagues was working part time at the store, and I didn't want him to see me. My ex-colleague and I took a train to go somewhere. At a station, he got off, but I knew it wasn't our stop. He realized his mistake and got back in.
I was in a room at the bottom of a boat. My girlfriend who was
brunette wearing a blue sweater came in and lied on the floor,
pretending to be asleep. I told her that the news media should talk
more about the real life in the war zone. I thought that although
people were struggling to survive there, they must be having some
sort of enjoyment as well, and every aspect of their lives should be
introduced to the rest of the world. She seemed to disagree.
I was a member of a big family or a commune living together in a huge white house in a suburban area. On a cloudy morning, the women of the house had to take a trip somewhere. They were not going to come back for sometime. The men of the house were quite happy with it. After the women left, the men went to the river in the backyard of the house to collect magazines drifting there. The men used long wooden sticks to catch the magazines, and made a pile of them on the ground.
The men were having fun with this activity. One of them left an impression on me that he looked like Masuo-san, a cartoon character from a famous Japanese animation series Sazae-san.
I felt sorry for the men because it looked to me as if that was the
only way they could entertain themselves.
I was simulating a criminal's activities by doing a role play. My part was Lupin III, but I was looking at him in the act. He was wearing a red jacket and looked exactly like the character from the Japanese animation series of the same name. He was intruding into some building in the darkness, which looked medieval European.
When that was over, we were prepared to go home. But there was a person, a man, a rather big man, who wanted to demonstrate something. It wasn't at all clear what he wanted to demonstrate, but he kept expressing his wish to show us something.
He did demonstrate it finally in a opera house, and the audience
got mad at him. But it was still unclear to me what he demonstrated.
The world fair was hosted by the university in my town, which in reality does not exist. When I went into the classroom, I realized that the room was more like my office, and the faces I saw there were those of my office mates.
At a lunch time, a close friend of mine who has the same family name as mine left a photograph on his desk. It was of three girls having their hairs done in a beauty parlour, seated in line, their bodies covered with white sheets. The three girls were all blonde and were from the left Brooke Shields, Nastassia Kinski and someone as famous as the other two but I don't remember. The picture was taken at the fair. When I asked my friend about the picture, it became twice as large horizontally and three men appeared on the other side of the three girls, seated in line, their bodies covered with blue sheets. These men were our common friends.
Women at the class talked about the photograph, all excited about
seeing their acquaintances in a picture with celebrities.
I was standing in front of a prostitution house which had both female and male prostitutes. I didn't know if I was there to become a customer or an employee there. All I knew was that I phoned the place, and I was told to pick up a girl who wanted to be an employee there on my way.
The girl and I walked toward the prostitution house which seemed like a multi-screen theatre. As we approached the entrance, two half-naked men who were like bodybuilders emerged out of the door and passed us. I thought that they must have been male prostitutes and I would not be able to become one if I needed to have such a body. The girl seemed to have an anxiety. We holded our hands together as we entered the house.
The applicants were to be separated into four groups: female-domestic, male-domestic, female-foreign and male-foreign. I was told to sit at the table where about ten men sat anxiously. I must have been one of the applicants after all. We were going to have a meal, which was a part of the test. Our faces were scanned every second, and were displayed on TV screens in a deformed way. Although every other applicant was eager to show their faces from eight different angles, I refused to show my face from a side.
Then there was a video played on the TV screens. It was about what kind of prostitutes that the place had. The video explained that the place could meet any types of demand by preparing all sorts of prostitutes. The video showed morphing images of the following: an East Asian girl, an African girl, a Hispanic girl, a dark skinned woman with lots of wrinkles, and a skeleton of a woman. All of the figures were half-naked wearing exotic and colourful costumes, except the skeleton who didn't wear anything, naturally.
The skeleton looked like that of an elephant from an old Michael
Jackson promotion video.
This was a dream about white powder. I was a student at a high school or a university. The school didn't have a ski club although it was surrounded by white mountains. I decided to found one, but everybody knew I didn't ski well. In fact, I didn't like skiing at all.
Regardless of everybody's worry, the club was founded and started its
activity. The first day I went to the mountain covered with snow,
there happened an avalanche. The flow of the white powder was
unexpectedly gentle, and I didn't get hurt. It was also quick.
