(9/9/05) a gay-tex wedding; locker room shakespeare

(Entered in paper journal at 6:54 AM at Starbucks on 87th Street and Lexington Avenue in Manhattan.)

Dream 1

I was in an "organic" grocery store that was about the size of a deli. I had gotten a few things -- some kind of bread and some kind of hummus with spinach in it. I walked through a square of wide aisles by a window wall (I think it was just dark, early evening) to the back, to a fridge-shelf.

I picked up a piece of cheese that actually looked like a McDonald's fruit parfait in a clear, plastic, cup. I looked at the information sticker on the top. It said (.90 pounds and 890 calories?). I was trying to figure out why, if the cheese was 100 calories per .1 pound, how it could be 890 calories, which was 90 calories more (?) than it should have been at .9 pounds. I think I came up with some justification.

Now I sat at a dinner table in front of a girl who was telling me that she chose not to eat the cheese because she didn't want to look any more ridiculous. She said I had pointed out a stain on her white shirt. I now saw the stain -- it was across one of her breasts, a streak like dried blood or shit. I told her either that I hadn't meant to embarrass her or that I hadn't mentioned her stain.

The woman then mentioned some other time she'd had a stain, but I only saw the images she was talking about: I couldn't hear her words. There was a thin, tall woman on a stage, dressed in black latex from head to toe, even with a latex mask. There were also metal clasps or straps all over the sit. But she had a liquidy, silver stain somewhere along her stomach. Now some other woman came up. The two women danced something like ballet (?) together.

I said to the woman (as if below the images we were still sitting in the diner), "How awkward to have that stain. And at the first wedding of its kind. A gay latex wedding.

(At this point I may have woken up. I thought to myself that this could have been called a gay-tex wedding.)

Dream 2

I was in a locker room. The locker room was dark, though occasionally lit by flashes of lightning. I and some woman, who may just have had an affair, were storing items in lockers. The lockers were cubic, maybe fifteen inches to a side, maybe greater in depth. The items we were storing (all I remember is a brown, rough, worn, leather pair of shoes) were pieces of evidence of some kind against the woman's husband (?).

Now the "husband" came in. he was kind of fat, with shaggy, curly hair and a big mustache. he was naked and sweaty. He squealed something at us like that he knew something was going on. He may have run at me.

I realized this was all a dramatic production, some adaptation of a Shakespeare play. I now saw the copy for the original Shakespeare play. I saw that there was a huge amount of stage directions. I was more interested, though, to see that dialogue, as if slightly arbitrary and manipulable, was inserted in the stage directions. I saw how it added a dramatic quality to this scene, which was mostly physical fighting, between the character I had been and the husband. I wondered why nobody ever mentioned this feature of Shakespeare's writing.

(11/26/07) email in power outage; the laziness of paat

(Entered in paper journal at 5:20 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

Something bad had happened in my office building. All the power had gone out. I couldn't see anything. It was like some portions of the building had been ruined. I could imagine some of my co-workers working under iron beams and among clutter.

I was sending email notices to people. One of the higher-ups in my company emailed me back (though I couldn't see my emails or anybody's responses) that she already knew what I had told her. I emailed somebody else that I should probably stop sending out notices. Another of my co-workers replied, "No. Keep sending them. We appreciate them."

Dream #2

I sat down to watch a movie. I was in a back row. The movie screen was far down, but still clear. The movie had begun. A nice-looking husband and wife sat down to my left, with maybe one seat between us. The woman was directly to my left and her husband to her left.

The woman asked me, "What film is playing?"

I replied "Paat."

She said, "Oh."

The husband got mad and said, "I told you we came at the wrong time. We could have seen The Guru from the Mountains. Now we have to see Piat!"

I felt bad for having wanted to watch Paat.

The movie started. A fattish, balding, bearded man was talking about some of his mystic friends in India. The man was a little intimidated at the prospect of seeing his friends. They had all moved to New York. He hated New York. It was a place that exposed his laziness.