(8/1/07) poison-fangs and needles

(Entered in paper journal at 6:30 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I floated through a house that looked like the house my family lived in during my last years of high school. There was clutter everywhere, whole mountains of chairs, boxes, and other stuff, making the moving space very crowded.

I saw a spider walk across the floor. At first I thought the spider was a scorpion. But I looked closer. The insect looked like a white crab with a flat shell about six inches in diameter and with two cylinders sticking off the top. The cylinders would lift up, rotate, and drop down. Something inside them could clatter-shunk down, like the sound from an aerosol-spray can, except heavier. These cylinders were fangs. I floated farther and now saw a tiny scorpion run across the floor.

I had floated almost to the back end of the room. I now floated toward the front, toward the door. I was trying to get out of this place as soon as possible. I felt a poisonous insect floating near me. I thought that all the clutter was so close that even if there weren't any floating insects, one of the walking insects could easily jump off the clutter and onto me. I was also afraid that my feet floated low enough off the ground that a crawling insect might be able to jump up and poison me.

I saw a man and woman before a pink screen. It was like the man and woman were on TV. The woman stood on the left side; the man, on the right. The woman had black hair done up in a bob. The woman was overweight. She had a homey (not homely) look about her. The man was tallish, skinnyish, maybe in his fifties. His long, scraggly hair was pulled back. He was deeply tanned and wore a sleeveless, grey shirt.

The woman said, "Being in Atlanta, I never thought I could find someone to do heroin with me. But then I found him. He not only does it; he shoots it into his neck. And he shoots it into himself. I never thought I would find anybody like that!"

The man now brought up a syringe, the cylinder of which was maybe six inches long, with a needle just as long. The plunger of the syringe pressed downward into the cylinder. I watched the man stick himself with the needle and then inject himself with the substance in the syringe.

I was afraid to watch. I couldn't bear to think how it would feel for me. I also didn't watch as the drugs took effect and the man's mind became deranged.