I awoke between these dreams and thought about them before returning to sleep. Probably remember them because it was slumber interruptus brought on by a nameless ginger boy (Papi – yeah, I named him) who, suffering from rainditis, wanted in and out of the house from four to seven AM.

The first dream was very sexy and erotic. I met several people at a bar, including a short woman with dark, short hair. She was wearing a purple shirt. I complimented her on it. When we began talking, we had an immediate connection. She revealed she was a schoolteacher. Eventually, while having drinks, we moved away from the others, and she proposed that we go have sex. I declined, explaining that I was married. She kept making suggestive remarks, touching me, stroking my face and arm, promising me that she’d be discreet, and no one would ever know. We kissed. I told her that was a mistake and left. I found my wife, who was out shopping. The woman walked by. She was with another man. My wife remarked that she looked familiar. I began telling her, I want you to know that she and I kissed. But my wife interrupted me while I was speaking, and I didn’t finish the confession. She continued shopping. The dream ended and I awoke. I thought about the dream, fell asleep, and began dreaming again.

I was in an art class in the second dream. I was the only student. The teacher was a young woman. Her shoulder-length black hair was glossy but then, watching her, I realized that the right half of her hair was dyed dark blue. Her hair curved up, becoming feathery. A white woman, she was wearing a purple top.

She was administering a test to me. I finished it very quickly. When she saw that I was finished, she came around to grade it. I told her that I probably hadn’t done very well, maybe a seventy or eighty, because I was preoccupied with trying to understand a dream that I’d had. I then woke up.

For the third dream, I was in a large farmhouse with many people. I knew some but many were strangers. Most were families staying there like me, temporarily, but it was a place where I used to live. In this dream, I was thinking about the first dream that I’d had and what it meant. Trying to find some privacy to think, I went into a bedroom. It turned out to be a suite and some other people were staying there. I started apologizing, only to realize that no one was in there except a black dog. I went back into the main part and began walking around, still thinking about the dream. Another guest asked me what was wrong. I didn’t want to tell about the dream, so I told her that I was having problems with a project. I’d created a film that was part stop-action, part live-action, and part art. I then started trying to explain this more, bringing out a video player and playing the work on a screen, and complaining that I couldn’t get it to work right. She thought it was a technical issue and contacted a woman to come and help. She said this was a technical expert who could fix anything. The expert turned out to be a short, stocky, dark-haired young woman. I explained my problem and she began working on it. We were interrupted when others came in with food. I awoke.

In the fourth dream, I was walking, wandering a city, trying to understand the first dream. The city was unusual, one with a series of elevated sidewalks connecting buildings. The sidewalks were high above railroad tracks, streets, and highways. The arrangement reminded me of M.C. Escher paintings. The walks were sometimes no wider than a steel girder, although the walks were always made of white concrete. I was walking randomly along them, often making ninety degree turns, with no idea where I was going, but not caring.

When I made one turn, I ended up walking into a crowd of girls. They were by a doorway. I veered around them to continue but realized that I was entering a private residence. Stopping, I said, “Oh my God, what am I doing? This isn’t my house. I have no right to enter.” The girls — probably five or six in number, all teenagers, and wearing shades of purple — were mostly indifferent or irritated by my presence, but one laughed about what I’d done and commiserated with my situation. She asked if I wanted something to eat. I replied, “No, but I’ll take a milkshake if there are any.” She gave me a vanilla shake. I drank it down, really enjoying it, then left.

I ended up at a small food stand in a large hall being run by a short, elderly man with a bushy black and gray mustache. Nothing else was there. Although I had consumed a milk shake earlier, I ordered a milkshake and a cheeseburger. He said, “These are really popular.” He handed me a shot glass and a small plate with a silver-dollar sized burger on it. I handed him a twenty and gazed at what he’d presented me. He returned two dollars in change, which I gave him as a tip, even as I thought, that’s a lot of money for this tiny meal.

Then I recalled reading about this milkshake and burger, that they’re supposed to be energy boosters that also elevated your thinking and intelligence. I downed the milkshake and swallowed the burger in one bite – it was that small. I discovered that I was at a theater; the burger and shake had cost so much because it included a theater ticket. I went in.

The stage was in the center of several elevated levels. I went up to the highest to find a seat. White tables and chairs lined the levels, which had a thin, metal handrail. The tables were occupied. I found one where an old friend was sitting with several empty chairs. I asked if I could sit there but he said, “No, I’m saving those for other people.” I sat with a laugh, telling him that I’d move when they came, which upset him.

A young woman passed. She was speaking with her mother. I noticed that she wore purple. She said that some old guy had interrupted their study session when he’d tried walking into her friend’s house. I realized that she was speaking about me and tried to eavesdrop. My old friend began talking, though, telling me that he was worried about his son. The OF looked the same as when I last saw him, almost forty years ago. He was telling me that his son was having problems, that he thought he might be suicidal. I listened, trying to offer supportive words. The OF invited me to go have something to eat with him. I accepted although I wasn’t hungry, because I’d just eaten. We went down to a restaurant. I ordered a milkshake.

The dream ended.