Dreamlog/6.8.09/ Out to Sea/Past International Dateline: Berthing "cleandalism"

It all starts off in a berthing.

Early in the morning, people are waking up, and getting ready to have a "fine navy day".

I'm aware that the berthing is different from the normal berthing that I was put in, but I pay no mind. I hear the repetitive morning hustle and bustle, but I fly "under the radar".

Flat Black spray paint appears in my hand, and groggily, I put my name up on a stuccoed wall.

I write my name, horribly, lacking much needed effort. I do not intend to write good - at all.

Then I think to my self "Oh shit! Why did I do that?

I try smearing it. I paint over it yet clearly see what was supposed to be covered up.

I hide the paint in someone else's area, and continue on pretending to clean. I look for a sponge to smear the urban scrawl before it dries.

As I find one and head back to clean it up, I see our "Berthing Petty Officer" painting over it. Accepting his sorry life, he cleans without a complaint.

I feel bad, but carry on. ...and I'm awake again... actually getting ready for a shitty day out to sea.

Dreamlog/6.6.09/Out to sea: Island Thugs, Pool, &... Bloods?

I remember a red hooded sweatshirt.

I see a neighborhood down the block.

A pool hall is housed in an old automotive garage.

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There's a gang of young hood-rattish teens and "tweens" there: either hispanic, or maybe even islander, but not Filipino. They appear to be "tight" with one another.

The grass outside the lot is wet, as if it were early morning dew.

I walk towards the pool hall under an overcast sky.It may be before noon it may be after school.

I notice some rather large gangbangers present, but they don't worry me.

I remember a hood-style convenience store. I may be in it, I'm not sure though.

I realize that my hooded sweatshirt, aka "hoodie" is Red and may cause them to think that I'm a "Blood".

I keep walking, and think to myself "it won't matter... I hope."

...and I'm awake again.