My dream last night started very comfortable. I was in a bed with a heavy, soft, and cozy down comforter. I felt very relaxed, like going to sleep in a comfortable bed. The room was pretty bare. There was a living room in front of the room. I saw my mother leaving. In a flashback to being a kid again, I did not want her to leave. She came into my room and calmed me down. Next I played with a remote control. The remote controlled the curtains to the room. It was funny to observe how part of the curtains went to the side and others up. It was kind like in a presidential palace. I became aware of the surroundings of the building. The entrance to the building had narrow hallways and burly guys with short machine guns for safety. It was kind of like in the Middle East. My room was on the second floor and had a little balcony. We were in a neighborhood of a large city. Our neighborhood was Middle Eastern with all the dirt in the street. When the curtains opened fully, a group of gunmen about three buildings away perked up. They started running towards me. They had been observing the building all this time. They suspected me to be inside there, yet weren’t sure until I had shown myself in the window. I was the son to a ruler. They came running now to take over the building. Ahead of the group was a skinny, blonde journalist. She tried to ask me questions. However, after the first question, she realized that she was the tip of a weapon’s confrontation. The journalist and I ran away. My building had been quickly overrun with all the guards shot. Yet, we had slipped out a moment before. The armed men were half minute or a minute behind us. We were running out of the neighborhood to a street, where the journalist had parked her car. Halfway, we path location of a car rental. The journalist says that we should rent a car. I say that we have no time to stand in line. She says that there are some quick rental stalls. They have a little machine. All we have to do is swipe a card and take the car. That sounds like a good idea. However, as we check each stall, it appears that all the cars are taken. Valuable time is lost. I see the sea and harbor that is next to the neighborhood. We are on the street that goes around the boundary of the neighborhood. The journalist can’t remember if we have to go left or right to get to her car. We stalled. And, the next thing, I am in a tall metal office tower in the South West corner of the city. I am inside a gray parking lot floor near a dumpster. I am completely naked with no food, no money, and no identification. Another young man living near the dumpster talks to me. Somehow we decide to band together. As we walk into an office floor of the building, I am closed. We walk past a few cubicles with workers. It is an advertising agency. People are relaxed and happy. They work mostly individually in their cubicles. The guy with me meets a friend of his. They say something in Hebrew. I say something in Hebrew. Now, I am in with them. It turns out that they are Israelis. They try to say that they found a safe place on the other side of the city and want to get me there. I sense that they are Israeli secret service and want to capture me for their own agenda. As I know that they can overpower me, I stall by asking office workers for information like, what time it is, or which city we are in. I suspect that we are in London. However, I can’t clearly confirm it. It is fun to approach the office workers. I need the right kind of smile and relaxed attitude and they respond happily. It is time to leave the building with them to their secret location. I have to go to the bathroom. As I walk into the bathroom, I am trying to find a urinal. It turns out that some of the urinals are only for show and others are exposed to the outside, where there is a small air strip. The urinals that are shielded from passersby have signs on top of them. However, as I look closer at the urinals, they are not normal ceramic urinals. They are buckets, cut open plastic jars, and all kinds of things. The advertising agency promotes personal responsibility. So, they don’t pay for a cleaning service. The employees get to keep the bathrooms as clean as they want them for comfort or as dirty as they want to be lazy. Everyone gets to bring in their own bathroom toilet. Thus, there are all the colorful makeshift containers. One of them even has a long, black pair of high heels inside. I guess someone thought it funny to shit on high heels. Next, I am back in a hallway. A cell phone pops into my hand. I recognize it as my own. The displays shows an update. I accept it eagerly. The update turns on the location service on my cell phone. I hope that my ruling clan with located me with the locater in the cell phone. At the same time, I am concerned that the opposition might use it to find me as well. A few moments later, armed man with large automatic weapons storm the basement of the building. The two Israeli guys and I try to run out. As we reach the elevator, it opens packed with armed men and guns. We run down the stairs. Just as we make it one level down, the elevator door opens with the same gang. So, I figure to avoid being predictable, I run a floor back up. However, it doesn’t work, because there are gangs of armed men on the floors above and below. They are both converging down on my location. We are surrounded. As a last ditch effort, I realized that the stair case has a few hand holds. I leave the ground and hold onto the hand hold like a monkey. I find another hand hold. The staircase turns into a large and round palace type of stair case. I hope that I can find a spot on the ceiling to hide. Yet, I am either hidden from the top or from the bottom, not both directions. And, they are coming from both directions. They have me caught. The Israeli guys are caught half a level below. However, our captors don’t know, which one of us three is me. So, they are confused. Somehow, I manage to get away. I am on a train driving towards a location that I hope is a stronghold of my faction. As I struggle with things like getting a ticket and watching the train go underground into tubes, there are suddenly men in suits on the other side. They look strong. They are a mix of FBI and other law enforcement units. They are in plain clothes to tail me and protect me. I relax. The conductor comes to check tickets. I pay for a ticket. The men in suits discretely show like one inch by one inch gold signs to identify themselves as law enforcement. I wonder, if that is a bad idea, as other people can spot them. Just as the conductor is almost exiting the train compartment, heavily armed gun men appear. The law enforcement people are dead in a second, shot multiple times. I am back on the run.

Last night, I had a rather vivid dream.

I was starting an exciting hike with friends. However, nightfall surprised us within minutes of starting the hike. The next moment, I was in a car on a dirt parking lot waiting to meet up with the friends. I slowly circled the parked cars. One of the cars had the headlights on and a person sitting inside. That person arrested me. It turned out to be a cop.

As I was in jail, it turned out that the cop had gotten scared by me. So, in his mind, he made up prostitution, drug running charges and all kinds and reported them to the station before he arrested me. Of course, the only thing that I had done was drive in a circle on a parking lot.

As the situation was cleared up during the night, I was put in a cell and taking to an interrogation room repeatedly. I remember moments in the cell of doing breathing to calm down and exercise for my body. Yet, as I was released, I realized the big gaps in memory about the night in jail. I explained it to myself that the stress must have been so great.

I was in a youth camp now with a counselor. He was quite concerned that I had been in jail. I wanted to get out of the youth camp. I remembered that I was supposed to be back home in Germany and packing to leave. I remembered my step dad saying that he was moving to Great Britain and I could stay with him. That seemed like a good idea. The counselor got really concerned about the family situation and international move. However, he let me go.

At that point I realized that I really was supposed to be in Los Angeles living on my own in my own apartment. So, I focused on that, when I returned to my home in Germany to spend the Sunday packing for my move back to Los Angeles. Great Britain sounded kind of interesting as well.

While I was packing, my ma was sitting in a parked car with my sister. I went over to them. The car was slowly rolling forward. I was alarmed and tried to alarm my ma that she had left the car by accident in drive and had stepped off the break. The car rolled for a long time and was close to hitting another car, when my ma looked up and stopped. She insisted that she was driving forward on purpose.

Next thing, I was in the car. We were driving through some rural roads with animal fences on the side of the road. A police siren goes on the empty road. I suggest to my ma to pull over to let the police pass. My ma is convinced that the police are after her. She starts speeding. I tell my ma that before she was not speeding. Now she was getting into trouble. Just let the police pass. My ma is intent on starting a police chase now in pursuit by two police cruisers.

She scrapes the car through a gate. I try to tell her that she just scratched my car. And, that the cost for repainting might be more expensive than the ticket. My ma insists that there are no scratches on the car, even she busted the gate with the car.

She drives up a hill with a curvy road. The plateau of the hill is a dead end. I tell her to stop. She decides to drive through the fence that protects from the cliff. My sister jumps out of the car. Inspired by my sister, I jump out of the car. Both my sister and I hang onto the edge of the cliff with our hands. A police officer helps us up. The police officers understands without words that we were unwilling passengers in the car and had done nothing wrong. My ma is driving off to somewhere in my now pretty busted car.

I guess based on the dream, I am feeling a bit stressed.

There is a dragon inside of my heart. My heart is its cave, its den, and its lair. The dragon is fiery red. The dragon is emerald green. The wings are powerful and wide. It's head rises high on a long neck to spew fire. So much power and royalty is bestowed on him.

The dragon lies stung, slashed, and shredded. Helplessly, he raises his head like a pleading puppy. Rheumatism is ravaging my body. I am exhausted, sleepy, in pain. My knees are swollen. I can neither extend them nor bend them. I limp around. I am devastated.

Every once in a while the dragon roars in anger with hate and spite. He is trying to rise up, yet the blood keeps flowing out of his slashed skin. The vivid red flesh with marbled white thin fat lines is exposed. There is no hope.

This morning, I had a very engaging dream. There was a lovely girl. She was oppressively held captive for work or something. She tried to escape. She Tarzan swung across the street. However, she did not have enough speed to get across the metal fence on the other side. On the second swing to gather more velocity, two guys jumped up and pulled her down by her feet. Sexy, white feet in sneakers, I may add.

The people put her inside of a mummy sleeping bag and wrapped plastic around it to keep her from moving. Than, they put her on the floor before the back row of passenger seats. The guys drove upfront. The back seats contained two other people and me. Those three people, we were sort of under the influence of the hostage takers, yet more like bystanders. They did not really force us into labor or chain us.

I felt the urge to save the blond girl on the floor. In my left back pocket of the jeans was a black loaded gun. I was ready to pull it out and keep the hostage takers in check until the police arrived. However, to use lethal force is a big step. So, I was hesitant and wanted to really make sure that it was the right thing to do. I tried to talk the other two people into freeing the girl and overtaking the hostage takers. However, the other 'bystanders' in the backseat were really reluctant. They even gave the hostage takers a bit of a benefit of a doubt.

So, I planned in my head to put the gun next to the driver and free the girl. All the steps were laid out in my head. However, before using a gun, I wanted to really make sure that words were unable to resolve the issue. So, I pleaded again with the bystander trying to be low enough, so that the hostage takers in the front of the car wouldn't hear us.

Right about, when I was ready to pull the gun, the alarm went off at 6 am to wake me for a hike.

What an intense dream!

Last night, I had a dream. The special thing was that I narrated the dream to myself, as if I had written the dream in words, then told it to myself, and caught glimmers of my imagination listening to the story.

In the beginning, there were tree stumps of felled trees. There were a lot, like a thick forest had been cut down. The land gently rolled a couple feet up and down. I was in a band of settlers about 100 or 200 years ago. We were looking for a new place to settle. Apparently, an old settlement had cut down all the trees.

We walked across the land with the tree stumps – the smooth round yellow surfaces of the cuts. We settled near the last three remaining trees. Those trees were instantly cut down to make a cabin. There was a little boy left over from the last settlement. Instantly, he pointed out that with the trees cut down, the things in the distance could see us. And, I got this sense of evil supernatural creatures, probably vampires starting to run into our direction. They would reach us by nightfall.

We hid inside of a wooden room. I nailed wood boards to the windows and doors to keep us protected. When it was day, the sun would shine through gaps in the wood, letting us know that we were safe. I was holed up in that cabin for three days, when I woke up.