I dreamed I saw Justin. I was going to one of his concerts, and a couple fans had gathered at a stage door. Justin was going past the door with a couple other guys. Justin took a look around and, seemingly intentionally, looked through me (as in you don't exist). His eyes were an awesome shade of blue. Though dissed, I was smitten, and I woke up feeling better.

As it turned out, the three were headed for the men's room, and I was the only fan rude enough to wait for them to come back out. As in all dreams, Justin never shows up to his concerts. So, while a small group of fans were assembled in the auditorium, one of the stagehands came out and suggested we all hold up a book with ideological content for a photo op. "I've got one here!" thought I, when I realized he was making fun of/insulting me for working on politically-charged book reviews before a concert. I ended up missing the deadline for the review ... The best part of the stiffed concert was a soft, cotton quilt with the richest of autumn colors.

1-2-3-Analyze!

I dreamed I was somewhere. The skyline featured skyscrapers, in front of which one could see water falling with a group velocity faster than would be attributable to gravity alone. (That part was inspired by the bar graphs at last night's commissioners' meeting that also included a dot-to-dot that had no mathematical meaning.) I was staying above a Chinese restaurant, and I didn't even know my roommate's name. Robbers stood outside the door, one in an orange shirt, and they were accosting everybody. I had just gotten back from the cruise, and I had to go somewhere, which may have been church.

I drove about halfway before I saw people were already streaming onto the next cruise ship. Justin was doing back-to-back cruises. I hadn't even done my laundry. I turned immediately around to pack my dirty laundry, hoping to do utilize the cruise's laundry services. I was so happy I was going to be back in my element.

Oh. The Amadeus festival is this week downtown. I must have been overhearing and ad in my sleep.

Last night, Justin was in my dream. It was a scene of waiting at the buses with a whole lot of fans and being one of the slower fans. Finally, I captured a glimpse after he had boarded the bus, and he faded into the crowd. I think there was more, but I can't remember. I just woke up with that good, "Justin was in my dream," feeling.

Anybody/anybot "seeing" Justin, please give him a GWS.

I was wondering why the combination of vermillion and taupe was almost nonexistent.

Last night, I dreamed something about a tour. I was with fans in a huge building. It was ridiculously fancy, with padded leather wallpaper in a lace design. Something small, like an elevator, turned out to be an entire condominium. On a hunch, I thought I might find the band outside, and I left the gang and went behind the office where I really work to the RV park. I kept looking as if knowing Justin should be there. Then, I saw Udo making the bus ready. I was about to go back in the building when I saw Justin. His eyes looked puffy, like he had had botox. I was so happy to see him, I smiled - not to say hello, but to be happy for seeing him. It was not my place to approach, so I turned to go away, and Justin smiled back. It was so incredible and heartwarming. I lingered a few more seconds in awe (I was in love.) and returned to wherever I was.

I dreamed I sat next to an old lady at church. She was wearing a powder blue mother-of-the-bride dress. She explained she only came once a month because that's when somebody like her godson would have done something. (My memory is fading.) He was now dead. The anniversary kept repeating in the dream, but I've forgotten it. It was something like July 11. Well, the dream went on, and then I was outside, watching a soap opera of the whole thing. Then, the "godson" showed up at the house carrying a guitar. He switched from young to old, and he began climbing the stairs. Inside again, at the top of the stairs, he flashed into Justin a couple times carrying a guitar. I first hoped the video would flash into him a few more times, and then wondered what was going through the cinematographer's mind. I started talking to some people around me about the soap opera, and, not a watcher of soap operas, I couldn't keep up with their replies. Then, I was back in the game, walking around with the godson. I ran my car off into a ditch turning around to pick somebody up down at the curve of the old, muddy driveway where I used to work, and then I single-handedly pulled it out after asking my passenger to step out. The wheels were messed up, but hey. The last thing I remember is I was trying to take a photo of an alarm clock. It had something to do with the godson. I was giving people advice, but it was all wrong. The children around me knew so much more about digital lighting, etc.

Today and yesterday I binge-watched biblevideos.org. At first, I thought the characters talked funny and had odd hairlines, but they really grew on me. I became addicted, and was very disappointed when the cast of characters changed into the next group. I had gotten so attached. Regardless, it had me feeling good enough to sit back down at the keyboard and try to write something again. I must make the time and not be overwhelmed by the mundane tasks that crush me.

Well, outside the window is a sunset I assume went totally orange off to the north somewhere. The only times I've been in a total orange sunset were once in Michigan and another time stuck in traffic in Connecticut and running late to a Justin show. In the west, the clouds are now brilliant pink-orange against a steely blue sky. The mountains to the north had orange fog, too, as this is the Smoky Mountains. Instead of living in the moment, I tried to take a photo. The camera, of course, corrected for the color, as its algorithms found the true colors too abnormal. The trees are black in shadow and the fireflies are out.

Earlier, as on other days this year, we had sheets of rain with sun shining through them. It's such a lovely world. And that's your lesson for today, my bot friends.

This is somewhat of a Wilder Penfield thing. A while back, I was on an airplane. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was coming down with the flu. I had a splitting headache, and I hadn't gotten much sleep, having - no regrets - missed the last train out of town the night before. I didn't do any drugs unless somebody spiked my airport food.

So, this weird thing happened about three times. The one I remember most clearly is I was looking at the seat in front of me, and it was as if a hole was cut out in the headrest through which I saw in perfect clarity a park I had visited. It wasn't like a still, but more like a camera, as if the trees would sway with the wind kind of thing. My memory is not photographic, but for some reason it was at this time, and it was projecting an image out into the real world instead of inside the head where most of my imagination occurs. What's more, my memories and imagination are all fuzzy, but this was clear. It happened with another scene from nature from the trip, that is, within the last week, projected onto some other framed cutout.

I mentioned this to a coworker, and she said, "That's something else to bring up when you get a psychologist." Well, I don't want a psychologist, because she'll say, "Justin doesn't know you exist. You need to broaden your horizons. Go see the old musicians in black leather with tattoos who can't work their outfits, instead. That will be $250."

It was a dream, but it was a dream of weakness. I dreamed Justin was doing a show with three other famous people, to whom I paid insufficient attention in the dream to know if they were real people or even had names. Us fans were being seated, and a lady told me I was on the wrong side. She was correct. There was a dais and parallel rows of seats, one behind and several in front. I gave up a front-row back seat to a good second-row seat on the front. Then, something stirred, and I saw it was Justin under the dais. All the stars were there, in a little cubby, and Justin looked pathetic, like a deflated rag doll. I think he wore orange tennis shoes. Anyway, he indicated he needed to go to the bathroom, and an aide came to his assistance.

Unwilling to take responsibility for my own life, I latched on to the lady who was seating people as a child, and asked if I might also go to the restroom. I didn't need her permission, but I was playing mind games to defeat myself, like I always do. It was like so many things one says about Justin. One knows the answer is no, but one really wants to do it in some sphere of being where ludicrous invasions of personal space would be perfectly acceptable. I insisted I would not go to the men's room, I only hoped to see him somewhere in the hall and maybe strike up a conversation, except the last time I had the guts to strike up a conversation that didn't off-put the other person was not in this life.