(Entered in paper journal at 5:40 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was in a park on a blue, but slightly cloudy, day. I was at the rounded top of a hill the lawn of which was slightly worn to dust. I was trimming a strange plant. Its stalk-part was bloated out and rubbery and green. It was maybe three or four feet in width and height. The top was like a big bouquet of roses. But the flowers were about twice as big as roses, and they were all dry. There were two other plants like this on the hill.
I had been told to trim these plants. They were weeds. By trimming them away piece by piece you would sap their energy until they finally died. But, I thought, these are summer weeds. As soon as it got cold (which would happen very soon), the plants' green parts would dry up. Then we could just dig down to the roots of the plant and pull the thing out whole.
TO, a person who led a volunteer project that I now led in waking life, walked up to me. I explained (as if by thought/feeling) my idea. TO "interrupted," laughed, and said, "No, it's more sensible to do it the way we're doing it."
We were finished for the day. TO was gone again. I walked away. I was in a college campus area. It seemed like late afternoon, dimmish, pale blue-grey light. There were some people milling around on a concrete courtyard. I didn't quite feel like I belonged. I felt like people were looking at me weird, that they might think of doing something bad to me to show me I didn't belong here.
Suddenly I remembered I h'd left my book bag over where I had been working. I was panicked. I started running back to the hill. But I also thought, Surely the bag's been stolen by now.
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