Thursday, September 12, 2002: Demons

I don't usually have bad dreams, but this one was. There were demons. There was something about being in a place of business and finding a cigar-box-sized box full of pot smoking paraphernalia, and there was a burnt-looking piece of paper, and I touched it, and it was warm. I tried shutting the box, but when I'd open it again, the paper was still smoldering.

There were two things involved here--one, that there were demons, and this was a portal to the underworld, and two, that I didn't want anyone at work to know that I knew about this box, because I would get in trouble for having something to do with drugs.

Later, the demon was in a shape like a rubber ball, and bouncing off walls and around corners after me. I was trying to get away from it, but I never could.

I woke up a little, and tried to think of nice things, like kittens, but then they'd turn into big animals with big teeth and snarl at me.

Monday, September 9, 2002: The crowded hotel

I checked into a hotel, and when I got to my room, there was a woman in the bathroom, coming out just as I came into the room. She was a nice-looking woman, nicely dressed and groomed, very blonde or white hair.

She was talking, saying something about how she should never have been banned from the place, and should still have been able to stay in this room. I just look at her as she leaves.

Then I'm hanging up my clothes in the closet, and hoping that I remember to take everything with me when I leave, and at some point there are loads of people in the room, big tables with papers and pens, and all kinds of people. Dennis Miller was there . . .

I call the front desk to complain about the woman; I do it nicely, though. I can't understand the person who answers the phone, he has a thick accent, but I say the reason I'm calling is that there was a woman in my room, and I'm sure the has kept a key from a previous visit.

I tell him that if I have to move, I will, but I'd prefer not to, since I've got things strewn everywhere. At this point I tell him to hold on a minute, and yell at the room in general that I want everyone to leave, just get out! Then I start walking around the room picking up pens and pencils and shoving them in pencil jars and mugs, thinking if I find a nice pen, I might keep it.

About half the people leave and I tell them that's okay, the rest of them can stay, and I tell the guy on the phone they should probably change the lock, but then I think, how will I get back in?