New York again

Zack and I driving through New York City streets, everything gray and a little sleazy in a light rain. The right hand side of the windshield is obscured. We park in a lot and go inside some non-descript building to transact business of unspecified nature. When we return we find that the car has been stolen. I ask Zack if he left his window open and he admits that he did. Anxiety anxiety anxiety.

Camelflage

All I can remember is a camel, crouching in the darkness.

Fugue States of Amnesia

D again. I meet him outside somewhere. His face is rounder, apple-cheeked, clean-shaven. He is sitting at a picnic table, where we are shortly joined by two other men. One is a German academic of some kind--dressed in a suit and speaking with a thick accent. He makes a conversational reference to some obscure movie and a character in it. D, of course, knows this movie and replies pithily. We move inside and there D opens a suitcase(?) and removes various items, one of which is a painting of a civil war scene.

An unexpected visit from a benign spirit

D. arrives for a visit (highly unlikely in waking life). He is cheerful and energetic. I welcome him as we stand in front of the house and look out at the front yard, which stretches parklike for several acres in the dream. There is a wide semi-circular driveway beneath spreading oak(?) trees. I start to explain that he must see this as we see it--still in development, much work to be done, etc. Essentially I'm being defensive about what I perceive to be the faults on view. He brusquely shrugs me off, a little irritated that I'm so pathetically defensive. I grab his upper arm and force him to turn back and look at the yard again, attempting to explain that I'm not being defensive but just wanting him to know all the great things we've got planned for the place. Looking ahead, not backwards.

We go in the house, where there is much food and he quickly begins preparing some.

Awake after the dream, I feel like it was essentially a positive visit. The night before this one was so wretched, that this dream feels like a welcome visitation by a benign spirit.

More grinding anxiety

I've been arrested for some crime, which I didn't commit, and I'm waiting in a crowded detention center. Unfortunately, I also have a small baggie in my pants pocket. I try to figure out how to get rid of it in the crowd. There is a table next to one wall where there are various small objects--ashtrays, etc. I surreptitiously lift one and place the baggie underneath it. A few moments later one of the police comes by and pokes around on the table, eventually lifting the ashtray and finding the baggie. I affect nonchalance. He hands it to me and asks if it's mine. I'm happy to pick it up, since that means my fingerprints will have a legitimate reason for being on it. I deny ownership.

Nevertheless I next find myself in prison. There are men and women both there, and various disguting things occur--one prisoner shits on the valued comic book of another, for instance. As I look around at the haggard and disturbed faces I realise that they are all crazy, that in fact all prisons are insane asylums.

I wake distressed.