(Entered in paper journal at 10:30 AM at Starbucks on 43rd Street and 3rd Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I was in a black, dark forest that must have been illumined by something like flashes of grey-white light revealing gnarled, ragged-textured trees. Something here happened that I don't remember.
Now I was in a busy street that looked like a residential area near the edge of Harlem. The whole place was packed. I was near a grocery store. It was night.
I walked with AI, who used to work with my NYC Americorps program. She had a grocery cart. She was talking about having no job and no money. I could hear or remember one of my friends or coworkers saying, "Don't lend her any money. She'll attach to you and suck you dry."
I was in a deli, which I think was supposed to have been the grocery store. The place was slightly full of people. I think I sat at a stainless steel counter near the front register. I believe my friend R was behind the counter.
He (whoever -- it may even have been some nondescript black man) offered me a "hand meat" sandwich. Everybody behind the counter tittered and giggled when I turned the sandwich down. It just sounded gross. I couldn't think what animal's hand would be used.
The main guy (R?) gave me a slice of hand meat. It looked like bacon. I put it in my mouth. It was really salty. it wasn't rubbery, but I couldn't chew it down. I kept loosening bits of what felt like fat from the meat. But the piece of meat never really broke down.
Finally I got freaked out, not by the consistency of the food, but by telling myself over and over, There's no animal you eat that has hands.
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