(4/30/08) momentum

(Entered in paper journal at 6:19 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I stood out on a sidewalk at night with a group of people before a long folding table. The table was stacked with meals that we were assigned to take to older, probably housebound, people. I was paired up to deliver a meal with a pretty, blonde girl with long hair.

I bent over the table to grab a meal. I was wearing loose, tan, casual pants like for the summer and pink panties. The pretty girl stood to my right. I bent over so that she could see the waistband of my panties above the waistband of my pants. I hoped the girl would be turned on by the sight.

As we walked away from the table and into a suburban neighborhood (but, possibly, first through a college neighborhood?) I realized the girl might think I was a fool for trying to show off the fact that I was wearing panties.

The girl and I got slightly separated. The areas we had been walking through had been pretty well lit by orange streetlamp. But now things were dim. The sky was also swarming with steely, wiry, grey clouds.

I had gotten ahead of the girl. I now ran back toward her. I saw her standing around the corner at the end of the block, which was at the top of a slight hill.

Somehow I was now running in a different direction. To show the girl I was good or strong (or, simply, not a fool), I began flying. I flew with my stomach only a foot or so above the sidewalk.

I flew under a barren tree like a cherry tree but with the branches more gnarled and spiky and densely spaced. I decided I would loop under, around, above, and back under the tree canopy to show how well I could fly.

But I couldn't quite do it. I couldn't keep my momentum up through the whole loop. I fell down through the canopy once, or maybe even twice. I tried to consider how I would keep up my momentum.

Suddenly I sat up in bed. I must have been in a young boy's bedroom. The lights were on. I was under a blanket that might have had an action cartoon scene on it. To my left were plastic figures, like Star Wars figures, in all different sizes, from maybe two feet tall to the standard action-figure size, i.e. around three inches tall.

I could hear myself having a conversation with my friend R. I got up and walked around the room and into the hallway. I thought I heard R at the front door.

I was going to check through the peephole. But as I walked to the door I was pulled back. R's dog bit some part of me, like the hollow behind my knee or the hollow behind my elbow, and pulled me back toward the bed. I laughed at the dog and probably fell down onto the bed.