Morning of January 2, 2015. Friday.

I am back on King Street. What I have noted about hundreds of such dreams is that the boarding house is never the same as it ever was in reality, and for each dream, there is usually a different setup, almost as if another part of me is deliberately trying to get me to recognize that I am dreaming. In this case, Leonard S, the pinhead, has a room he never had in reality, the room across from the very large bathroom. Also, across from Leonard's in-dream room, what should be the bathroom is now another apartment. "Squeaky" (a real-life friend of ours) lives there. (He got his nickname from absentmindedly stepping on a certain floorboard, near the pinhead's apartment, that always squeaked loudly.)

I am mostly aware of the time period I am in (and the fact that I am married and have children), though I am not sure if these people would be alive in reality (our landlady lived to be over a hundred, though). Squeaky's room looks very poorly maintained and mostly empty except for a bit of grungy damaged furniture. However, when we shake hands I happily compliment him (seemingly sincerely - not condescending at all) on how well he has done in "still living there", even though it is truly pathetic on his part. This seems to be due to me having a more defined empathy in-dream for him. Normally, such a scene would probably infuriate the one being addressed (as if perceiving the other person is otherwise being rudely sarcastic), though Squeaky does not react angrily.

The pinhead is there behind his door and I tell him to step out even though he is not fully dressed (which was why he was hesitant in stepping into his doorway). Squeaky stands to the left. I ask Leonard how he is doing and he looks at first as he did in reality and seems happy to see me again. However, a short time later, I notice how unnaturally tall he is (in reality he was about my height). In fact, the upper part of his body, from about mid-chest-level, to the top of his head, seems to taper off in a rather bizarre fashion, giving the impression that his head is only about one-fifth the size of mine. His shoulders also taper off in an odd trapezoidal fashion. At first, I think this is a trick of perspective relative to him being tall and towering over me, but it is not a trick of perspective; he actually looks like this in-dream at this point. Looking again, it is almost as if his head is smaller than a baseball.