I’m with my mom and she’s taken me to a job interview at Yahoo! I’m carrying a very old towel with the old logo on it and I’m trying to fold it so that the embroidered logo is showing. For some reason I feel this is important when going into the job interview. I’m thinking about some of the things I did for the company when I worked there last. I’m also thinking about previous dreams that I’ve had about Yahoo! and they seem to be more of the content than anything I actually did there. I’m nervous that my skills have fallen by the wayside and that I may not be viable any longer. The overall feeling is trepidation and uncertainty.

I’m driving down the freeway at night. I’m taking one of those long exits that merges with an onramp. I’m in the Prius. A man in a 90’s Seville enters the freeway to my right. I’m speeding up and he’s riding alongside me which is really annoying because at some point our lanes are going to merge. He clearly has the faster car but he’s not doing anything about the situation. Finally at the last minute, he speeds up and then takes the exit that goes westward in the loop. He’s going so fast that he can’t possibly slow down in time. I take the next exit and realize that I’ve gotten lost and he’s disappeared. When I come out of the turn, I have to slow quickly because I’ve ended up in a park. There’s a huge rock formation and a little duck pond. It’s pretty but it’s not where I want to be. I end up high on the rocks trying to find the way down. I’m carrying the car because it can’t drive over most of the rocks tho some have carved in trails that is drivable. I see the man from the Seville and he’s peacefully enjoying the park. I follow a trail down to the water and can’t go any further and I’m wondering what I should do. The overall feeling is my competitiveness during driving. I’m often impatient.

I’m an astronaut and I’m sent to the moon on a mission. It looks like it’s the kind of mission that I’m not going to be returning because they’ve left me with a lot of supplies. There’s a large building that looks like the White House. There’s a computerized robot that has medical abilities that’s trying to help me with stuff. I’m kind of upset about being stuck there because of a crash landing that’s left me injured. The robot drills into my elbow to clean out the bone but I’m seeing this from 3rd person perspective. It then runs a shaft up my nose which I’m not happy about. I look like someone else, kinda like Steve McQueen. I know there are some advanced computers here. I recall my trip here more than once and wonder if it’s the right thing to do.
The dream reminds me of Laura Eisenhower’s talk about colonizing Mars.

I’ve come in after a day of working and get naked and lay down to rest. When I wake up, I hear a huge racket in the front yard. I go to the window to look out and see that there are a bunch of laborers in the front yard getting ready to leave after completely destroying the yard and digging a giant hole in the middle. I get my close on ASAP and rush out as they’re getting ready to drive away. I stop a young Mexican man in an old burgundy colored Nissan pickup and ask him what they’re doing. They’ve pulled up the two cement pillars that made up the old gate, torn out most of the yucca, ripped out the cement pathway, and left a whole about 6’x4′ and about 6′ deep right in the center of the yard. He tells me that they were hired because of a possibly water leak. They didn’t find it but are done working for the day. They’re planning on coming back.

I’m arriving at a yard where I’ve been living. It’s not my house. I have Chiclet and another dog with me. There’s a front gate at the pathway to the front door and a large driveway gate and neither are closed correctly. They’re supposed to be. There are a lot of people there and most are family, but I don’t recognize anyone. I walk in and close off the dogs so that I can close the gate properly and left the dogs run freely. I walk out to the sidewalk to close the pathway gate and a couple girls say hi to me, and I notice there’s a cousin named Rob that reminds me of pictures of my dad when he was young although he has a split in his teeth. He doesn’t really acknowledge me as I close the gate and proceed over to the driveway and close the two main gates. I feel a little weird ‘cos it’s not my house but no one seems to pay attention. I walk back to where I left the other dogs but I can’t find Chiclet. I’m calling for her. I run into a couple guys on the side of the house having a sort of business meeting. One asks the other, “Why did you name it Chipote?”, obviously mispronouncing “chipotle.” I often wonder why white people have such a difficult time with that word. I can’t find Chiclet.