Morning of April 16, 2015. Thursday.
My wife and I are seemingly living in an unknown city (our children are not present so it seems to be related to the time period after we first met). We are living in a (unfamiliar) squarish one-room apartment in a commercial district (probably on the corner with regard to the placement of the windows and front door) that seems to have been a store at one time in the recent past. There is a stove in a corner near the opposite end of the room from some larger windows. It is fairly close to a bed. It seems a bit annoying and odd to be living in such a small one-room apartment (though does not really seem that cramped in some ways) yet I still feel somewhat cheerful just in living with my beautiful wife and thus feel we are okay in this situation regardless. At one point, I need to do some writing, related to either my dream journals or lists of affirmations or ideas. There is apparently not much paper available so I decide to take down and use several store sale banners that are still hanging from the ceiling (which remind me vaguely of - or distort partly into - shower curtains that equidistantly repeat a small bird-head motif). It is probably early evening. People are walking around just outside on the sidewalk and I feel somewhat wary about living in an area with more people and traffic.
At one point, when I open the front door to check it, which leads directly to the public sidewalk, I notice that it does not quite close properly. Soon, the bottom hinge (to my right) becomes detached. (Distorted, too-small, “incomplete”, or ill-fitting doors have been fairly common in my dreams since childhood.) Somehow, I manage to fit the door into the doorway so that it looks somewhat normal. Still, I clearly contemplate a scene where someone will probably come along and kick in the door and get into our apartment (and I imagine it happening before morning). This is not because of someone noticing the unhinged area, but because people apparently do this fairly often. I mention something to my wife of how the door did not even last during our first week of rental. It is unlikely the building’s owner will fix it, so I think about doing it the next day. (This is actually based on a real-life situation - our bathroom door is loose on the bottom hinge and actually came off from that area of the doorway.)
At one point, there is knowledge of an Emailing system that works by teleporting flash drives to different locations (not directly to a computer, but onto a table for some reason, which you can then place in a computer to use - not very feasible or necessary). I have a false memory of having exchanged messages in this way with best friend Toby T for a few weeks. For some reason, however, I prepare to send an older flash drive (which is oddly shaped, somewhat like an arrowhead) that seems to be me addressing and acknowledging him for the first time after many years. I think about whether or not he will be puzzled by this act and the letter contents and perhaps become annoyed or angry that I had forgotten we had been writing to each other for a time already. I decide to send it anyway - perhaps he will think it was a delay in the teleportation system. (Nothing concerning this scene is addressed in-dream again.)
There is another scene which seems to be a sort of continuation of a previous section of my dream that was not quite clear, where I had apparently played a secondary role in a television special or miniseries. This involves going into a strange multidimensional matrix of at least four rows of distinct “rooms” (yet all part of one large “room” with transparent “waves” in some areas) - an area that people teleport in and out of (though I had just walked there). In the far side of the large room is a section where I see and recognize the male actor I had been working with (in afterthought he reminds me of my foreman from an old factory job but also reminds me of a celebrity I do not presently recall). He appears to be getting a haircut or perhaps having makeup added for a filming event. I wave at him and he acknowledges me in a formal manner but I feel a bit strange at not knowing my job concerning the show and feel a bit left out (hoping that I am not considered as being forgetful of the project - though I also get the feeling that I do not have much purpose relating to going behind the stages of the production - thus I am probably not supposed to be there). I have a vague awareness that one of the other parts of the room has something to do with strip clubs or prostitutes (which is probably a forced association with my foreman’s name being “Hooker”). There are a few other people around involved in completely different things, one seemingly a greeting card business.
At this point, my dream becomes a bit more vivid and cohesive. An unknown male walks into the room directly from the public sidewalk outside (opening a glass and metal door) and starts his sales pitch about a device he is selling while sitting in a chair a short distance across from where I am sitting. It looks like a television remote but acts as a laser weapon. He seems nervous and excited yet also confident in some ways, though his behavior is informal and annoying, especially when he starts asking me personal questions that have nothing to do with his attempt to sell me the item. I start yelling obnoxiously (though am really not that angry) and calling him various rude names, asking him if he thinks I am Captain Kirk and if I really need the phaser he is trying to sell me. Several other people in the room laugh at this scenario. In a way, I feel a bit sorry that I have behaved like this but I do say that he should not try to sell anything in this manner in a public place.
The final scene involves walking back (at night) to the corner one-room apartment my wife and I live in in my dream. I notice several Latina girls in the area. One is on the actual corner of the sidewalk (near the street intersection to my left) and another near the window of the building to my right. They seem to be mentally measuring something (undefined) across the sidewalk relative to the distance between where they are standing (and possibly something related to the number of sidewalk sections or divisions/lines). I ask them if they need any help. This makes them extremely annoyed and they start yelling as if I had propositioned them, though they keep yelling various Spanish phrases. A black male appears and starts joking about them and how much they like me (which is supposedly why they are yelling at me). The male and I soon leave the area and appear to be walking south down a street in La Crosse about three blocks west of my old boarding house (though the area is mostly residential in reality and has no larger buildings as such). We keep cheerfully laughing and joking with each other about their behavior, though I yell “Nada loco!” back at them several times as they are still yelling out. I have the seemingly clear idea that I am saying that they have no mind. However, “nada loco” translates literally to “nothing crazy”, so I am actually humorously yelling that they are not being crazy, the opposite of what I intended. I get the idea that “loco” means “mind” (instead of “crazy”) though have no idea in afterthought why it was like this. This is just a typical mix-up due to lack of thinking skills and proper memory associations in dreams.