Morning of August 27, 2015. Thursday.

In my first dream, there is a scene related to money that went missing from my account, apparently through one particular ATM (in the shopping mall). In fact, there is no money left in my account (except perhaps a few dollars or cents), it seems. Somehow though, I begin to think I know who had done it. It is an older secretary (probably over fifty) from a local government office. In fact, I see her in the area.

My foreman and friend from my old factory job, Pat (the one who had shot himself) seems to understand my suspicion and takes the lady to some sort of building which almost seems like the local library, though which also seems only “across the room” from the ATM I had just used. I am not even sure if he has the authority to do this. He has some sort of device that can tell if she had used the ATM machine and gotten access to my account. It is something to do with placing it on the ATM, taking it off, and then having her touch the device while they are seated at a rectangular table. I sit on their left, watching.

I soon become a bit uncertain if it was this person who is the guilty party because I do not quite understand her motive. Still, Pat is patient and he seems to suspect her as well.

She starts talking about me in a derogatory way, as if there is something wrong with me for being “interested in statistics”. I talk back to her saying that she is the one with the problem for not understanding the unlikelihood of certain events. My dream trails off without an ending.

In another dream, there is a sort of disembodied perspective though I still find myself using my hands at times. The scenes are somewhat sparse and random but all relate to some sort of contest involving coloring in drawings. Firstly, there is a large Blondie (and Dagwood) comic strip scene, fairly detailed and showing the house inside - of one expanded part of the house from an elevated perspective. I find myself coloring in a large counter (probably the kitchen counter but the perspective is skewed) with a darker mustard color, using I think, a felt pen. It is very smooth and even as I color from around the corner of the feature, filling in a fairly large area in the foreground, it seems. (Blondie and Dagwood, both standing, appear smaller in the “distance”.)

Later, there is some sort of sketchy drawing of a girl I knew from my old job at Eco Three (Jeanne C). I am coloring in her hair of a similar darker mustard color as with the counter as well as a darker orange. Over time, though, I begin to use a few different unlikely colors, though in a smooth pattern. Somehow, at the same time, she is talking to me (I see her face as if from a distance though I had not seen her in real life since around 1982) even though it seems unlikely - and she is saying how even though my work is very good, I may not finish in time to win any of the contests. At that point I pick up some sort of A4 notebook or manual of information about the contests and notice that I am working on the third contest and had apparently not finished the first two (or even started on the second, I think). The second seems to be a scene of randomly strewn mannequins at odd angles - seemingly of a 1950s style, with more implied color-dividing lines than would be realistic (for example, three or four dividing lines each around the elbows, shoulders, and neck). I get the impression that they all should be mostly a cyan color though (even though cyan is not like any flesh tone at all). I tell her that it does not matter; that I will still do it however I want and make satisfying images in the long run (yet it is still possible I may win).

In real life while shopping several days ago at Hinkler, I had been focusing on how very odd, even disturbing, that mannequins look, especially without heads. My dream is probably related to that and the ATM machine I use there. Comic strip people (Blondie and Dagwood) are also “not human” and the third drawing I was coloring was not a real photograph of a face, either. (Unsure if all related.) The darker mustard color seemed “important” or “familiar” somehow.