January 28th, 2014

I'm in a kitchen.

It's long and narrow. The style is 70s: fake brick walls.

May aunt is kneading dough. She has two clumps: one is white and gelatinous, the other looks like regular bread dough.

I ask her what she's doing and she explains she's making bread with deer fat. The white, gelatinous clump is the deer fat. She's making deer fat bread from a deer my cousin (her son) recently hunted down.

I look to my left. I can see into the living room. The deer is sprawled out on the couch--its hind legs stretched back. It's breathing rapidly. I see a wound on its right side--the wound is oozing a dark red/brown fluid.

My cousin enters the living room (where I am now standing), rubbing lotion into his hands. I ask him, "How long before you can kill the deer?" I feel horribly sad for the beast.

"Soon, but I gotta' keep 'em alive for now. I get the best juice out of 'em when they're still alive."

Suddenly the deer lurches to its feet and hobbles toward me. It continues on into the kitchen. I feel very strongly that this deer needs to be put out of its misery.

January 3, 2014

I am at the Cherry Hill Mall in NJ. The mall has been merged with a hospital. I am walking through a large, open atrium; the floor is covered in white tile. As I near a section of offices, I leave the atrium and enter a hallway that is still quite large. Cobalt blue and white tiles cover the floor now. As I pass an office with an open door (on my left), a man inside beckons me to come in. He is wearing a light brown suit, and appears to be in his late sixties or early seventies. His skin has a light yellow tinge, he is slightly overweight, and his hair is a small white, untrimmed shrub. He and I discuss my job / career. I tell him about some of my frustrations and he encourages me to ignore what is not important, but to be true to myself. The phone rings and he answers it. He has a booming voice. I move to get up, but he gestures for me to stay. When he hangs up the phone, we discuss a few more things and then I leave.

In the hallway, I see a sign with symbols for male and female restrooms. I walk to the end of the hallway, where another hallway runs perpendicular to the one I was just in. Directly ahead of me, and extending the length of the new hallway, are enormous windows that let in a blinding amount of light. I'm still looking for the restroom, though. I turn back into the previous hallway and see a person open a door that has a special lock on it (one that requires a pass-card). I grab the door just before it closes and enter the room. This is the restroom I've been looking for...

I'm now walking through a new section of the facility. In a bright, large room I see a professor who has been working with my wife on a book on Langston Hughes. He seems preoccupied and when I approach him, he looks at me with squinted eyes and wrinkled brow, "I don't have time right now. Let's talk another day," he says and passes.

I am now in the hospital wing, which is also open and very bright. I want to leave, but for some reason I head toward the elevators. There is an open space where the elevators should be. There are several large squares of cobalt blue tiles arranged in rows on the floor. I step onto one. A black man steps partially onto the same square. The square begins moving down and the man becomes confused. The square stops moving and a person in a white gown approaches and asks us if we know how to ride in an elevator. The black man laughs and says something about this being unlike any elevator he's ever seen. The white-gowned person helps him to get onto the platform with me, and the elevator continues to move down...

I am leaving the hospital wing and headed back through the hallway with offices. As I pass the brown-suited man's office, he gestures for me to come in. When I enter, he holds up a multi-colored bathrobe that belongs to me. He wants to return it to me. I also ask him if it would be okay for us to chat some more. He says, "Sure. How about over a drink?" I agree to meet him in the cafeteria, which is in the large atrium.

In the atrium, I find a cafeteria sectioned off by ropes. An awning covers part of the seating area, which consists of round tables and chairs. I order a pizza for myself and join the man in the brown suit. He has my robe and returns it to me.

January 1, 2014 (first dream of the new year)

I'm in a nondescript room looking in a mirror. Several large blisters are clustered on my left cheek; six large abscesses are aligned in two neat rows on my right cheek. Other people are with me--I do not recognize them, but they are there to comfort me and prepare me for the public (for the day). I apply a white ointment to my face and the people in the room with me reassure me everything will be fine.