(Entered in paper journal at 9:25 PM at Starbucks on 43rd Street and 3rd Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I was possibly part of some expedition, possibly in Egypt. There was something like a cat-sized mummy, but it was supposed to be a human or part of a human. It seems more like it was wrapped in basket-woven reed strips than cloth. Yet it's also like it was in stone, like a sarcophagus.
I was down deep in a tunnel like in a tomb's labyrinth. There was a candle lighting the view. Now the heart was inside the (body?). It was also mummified. But it dripped drops of blood, so much so that the strips of cloth were purple with blood now: a dry, caked purple soaked anew with new blood all the time.
I asked the lady anthropologist/archaeologist if the drops wouldn't soak the stone on which the "sarcophagus" lay. (This soaking would cause something bad to happen to the tomb structure.) As soon as I asked that question I realized how stupid it was, and I sat and bore the explanation the anthropologist was giving me, even though I already knew it now -- The "sarcophagus" was surrounded in thick stone, and no liquid could get through it.
I now saw, by candlelight, a wall painting in the Egyptian style of a man, bare-chested and wearing a skirt (?), carrying the "sarcophagus" down a stone slope to the tomb area where it now lay. The explanation of this scene was strange, something like a sacrifice of the dead. This being had died naturally (?), in other words, and its corpse was somehow sacrificed. The sacrifice had truly made the "sarcophagus" sacred, for its drops of heart blood now had the power of curing a specific disease.
I now saw the "sarcophagus" laying as if untouched (it had been standing before). At its head was an egg-shaped object -- the heart. It was alternately in stone and in blood-soaked cloth strips. The anthropologist had collected a sample of this blood in a cylindrical beaker about three inches in diameter and five inches in height.
I was the one who would test this blood for curative effects. But the anthropologist warned me that the blood (which looked like silty pond water) may have certain water-borne bacteria which could give me a nasty intestinal sickness. The "blood," now pond water (!), had to be analyzed in a lab before I tested it.
Now I was in the lab: a white, sterile place, with a male scientist in a white lab coat. The pond water was now like it had never been blood, like it had never come from "Egypt." The male scientist, as young and healthy as the female scientist had been, was now the person I had been working with all along. The scientist said the analysis process would take place in a couple days and that it would take about twenty-eight hours.
I was now sitting in an old, cheap car with a female scientist. We were on a roadside by a wood post fence surrounding either a large yard or a small park.
I told the scientist that if she needed me to help out with the twenty-eight-hour analysis, which I knew would be a big deal with the scientists, I would gladly volunteer for the whole time. But then I remembered that I wouldn't be volunteering outside. I'd be volunteering in a lab, just sitting there for twenty-eight hours straight.
I thought about reneging. But then I figured that I was, after all, interested in the unique properties of the pond water. (It, of course, no longer had the curative effect the blood had, but there was still something scientifically interesting about it.)
Showing posts with label bad water. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad water. Show all posts
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Thursday, February 16, 2017
(4/15/06) i was a dead woman
(Entered in paper journal at 4:15 PM on train from New Haven, Connecticut, to New York City.)
Dream 1
I knew a woman was dead. I saw somehow that she had angered a man who was rich and some type of criminal. I knew he had killed her and (before or after) cut off one of her hands.
I saw something like a cartoon of the woman in some dark blue room like a ballroom. The woman slapped the man in front of all his friends. Either the man or woman was coated in bright red, blod, the only thing (other than the eyes of people) not blue or black. This meant the man was angry and the woman was going to get killed.
I was now in a room with hot pink walls. On a diving "wall" somewhere in the room was a ledge of thin wood that was also painted hot pink. On it stood plastic figurines of a bride and groom. Once again I knew this stood for the man and woman.
I was now as small as the figurines. I stood on the ledge. I knew this meant I was the woman. I knocked the woman figurine off the ledge, somehow trying to reenact her death.
I was walking in the woods. I walked down a trail cluttered with big, schist-like boulders, to a river or lake. All the time I heard a conversation, as if in narration. I was also thinking out how the woma had been killed. I was still the woman, too, though I was myself.
It now all dawned on me, and as it dawned on me, I became sick, like something similar was being done to me, though I hadn't started the feeling the effects until now. I now knew that the man had shot up the woman with some drug in the vertebrae of her neck. When she was paralyzed he did something torturous to her and then, as she was on the verge of death, he cut off one of her hands. She was in a wedding dress.
I was crawling on my belly onto the rocks that waded in the first waters of the river/lake. As I looked at the pool of water surrounded by the boulder I saw so much trash everywhere. There was an upside-down baby carriage that was colored hot pink, with tattered fabric. I was disgusted with the garbage in the water. I thought, This is nature. It shouldn't be so crummy.
I was sick, hardly moving, and afraid that the man who had done this to me would catch up and kill me. I saw the woman's lace-cuffed hand floating palm-up in the water. I felt even sicker.
But now I was standing up, only myself, no longer the woman. I was walking up bouldres that got taller as they got into deeper water. I knew or thought that the rest of the body of the woman would be by the next and last boulder, floating in the shadow of its face, belly up, in her wedding dress, at the fringes of this vast body of water.
As I approached the edge of the boulder, I hunched down, maybe even lay down, suddenly. I didn't want to see the body in the water. I thought something like, That's the last thing I need to see -- more trash in the water.
Dream 1
I knew a woman was dead. I saw somehow that she had angered a man who was rich and some type of criminal. I knew he had killed her and (before or after) cut off one of her hands.
I saw something like a cartoon of the woman in some dark blue room like a ballroom. The woman slapped the man in front of all his friends. Either the man or woman was coated in bright red, blod, the only thing (other than the eyes of people) not blue or black. This meant the man was angry and the woman was going to get killed.
I was now in a room with hot pink walls. On a diving "wall" somewhere in the room was a ledge of thin wood that was also painted hot pink. On it stood plastic figurines of a bride and groom. Once again I knew this stood for the man and woman.
I was now as small as the figurines. I stood on the ledge. I knew this meant I was the woman. I knocked the woman figurine off the ledge, somehow trying to reenact her death.
I was walking in the woods. I walked down a trail cluttered with big, schist-like boulders, to a river or lake. All the time I heard a conversation, as if in narration. I was also thinking out how the woma had been killed. I was still the woman, too, though I was myself.
It now all dawned on me, and as it dawned on me, I became sick, like something similar was being done to me, though I hadn't started the feeling the effects until now. I now knew that the man had shot up the woman with some drug in the vertebrae of her neck. When she was paralyzed he did something torturous to her and then, as she was on the verge of death, he cut off one of her hands. She was in a wedding dress.
I was crawling on my belly onto the rocks that waded in the first waters of the river/lake. As I looked at the pool of water surrounded by the boulder I saw so much trash everywhere. There was an upside-down baby carriage that was colored hot pink, with tattered fabric. I was disgusted with the garbage in the water. I thought, This is nature. It shouldn't be so crummy.
I was sick, hardly moving, and afraid that the man who had done this to me would catch up and kill me. I saw the woman's lace-cuffed hand floating palm-up in the water. I felt even sicker.
But now I was standing up, only myself, no longer the woman. I was walking up bouldres that got taller as they got into deeper water. I knew or thought that the rest of the body of the woman would be by the next and last boulder, floating in the shadow of its face, belly up, in her wedding dress, at the fringes of this vast body of water.
As I approached the edge of the boulder, I hunched down, maybe even lay down, suddenly. I didn't want to see the body in the water. I thought something like, That's the last thing I need to see -- more trash in the water.
Saturday, February 11, 2017
(9/8/06) the mutant bear-fish's soda commercials
(Entered in paper journal at 8:20 AM at home.)
Dream 1
I was out in a plaza area that seems somehow like a carnival. I saw my boss EB in a black suit jacket and slacks, black tie, white shirt, black sunglasses, talking with a young man sitting on a stool -- like EB was an FBI agent trying to recruit a new agent. But the things EB said sounded like he was interrogating the young man. I thought, I hope the kid isn't afraid he's guilty of something and end up running off.
My focus faded away toward something like a structure for a merry-go-round. I heard EB say something like "Don't worry. I'll be back. I just have to convince this guy. But he'll come around pretty easy."
I was in "my" bedroom. The room had thin wood walls and thin carpet, but an overall familiar and nice feel. I was happy to be back. But I saw a toy of mine (?), something like a motorized car-toy with big, nubby wheels and a thin, shoe-like, grey white, and yellow body laying on the floor instead of on the coffee table where I'd left it.
I was nervous, worrying about who had been in my room.
I walked into another room, which was "the same room," and saw papers I had left scattered on my bed. The papers were like my thoughts on some creative work I was trying to piece together. I was happy to see it all. I sat down on the bed and tore into the papers.
I was on a lake shore or rather a little bar of land that went into a vast lake. It was trashy, barren land. The lake was kind of dirty. I was with a group like a church group. I felt alone and a little dirty, unkempt.
I saw something weird in the water (I believe we had been looking for weird fish in the water). I walked by myself to the water's edge, to the weird animal. It was like a huge fish with weird "bear lips" sticking out of the water. I backed up and shouted to a suited group-leader (also a "friend"). I was more and more confused and afraid, as if the "bear lips" on the fish body became a shaven "bear head."
The fish was now a bear. It emerged from the lake decomposed and gnarled -- its hair green, its eyes skull-like, its body emaciated. It called (telepathically?) to me, Why are you afraid? Aren't you supposed to be the one close to me? Aren't you supposed to understand me?
It walked toward me and past me. I caught up and followed it like a friend, talking in a puppy-like way, like a twerp would talk to a cool kid.
We were in a small, very private apartment living room. The bear was "filling out" two "advertisements," which kind of looked like SEC reports with a ton of blanks, and empty space between the paragraphs. As you filled in, by deduction, the blanks of these forms/"advertisements," you were informed -- almost downloaded with -- the advertising message of the company. The companies were Pepsi and Coke. The bear liked one, and I agreed -- the messaging hidden in the blanks was much wittier and yet much more easily obtainable.
I and a couple people "continued" our tour through this "beverage museum." We were now in a mock-up of a fast-food restaurant. The person behind the counter (orange counter, garish orange, pink, and purple everywhere, with some flooring and surfaces of a wood-like-textured tile or plastic material) was monotonously blabbing about advertisements on TVs over her head.
I saw one of the advertisements, and yet it was like it was happening right beside me and deep within my mind. People were rushing to a self-serve fountain to get abundances of soda in a quick time. One person filled a flimsy, plastic, 32-ounce cup to overflowing (so the plastic lid kept bubbling and brimming off) with flattish, orange soda.
This weird soda race wasn't a contest or a promotion -- rather, the beverage company was just trying to get people "into the spirit" of drinking more soda more quickly than everybody else they knew, basically to drive sales. The mock-up restaurant was a Dunkin' Donuts, which had been purchased by a big company like Coke or Pepsi.
The next commercial was playing on the "homestyle" attitude of the company (?). The tour guide behind the coutner said, "This is the ad that made the phrase 'Take an hour off' famous."
The ad showed two guys, a manager and an employee, in the back area of a Dunkin' Donuts (which was more like a machine sled or a barn or a garage). The manager knew the employee had his girlfriend outside, waiting. He told the kid, "Go to lunch. And you know what? You can take an hour off."
I knew the really famous part of the commercial was coming up -- though I couldn't remember how it came up. In the famous part, the manager said, "Take two hours off." This was supposed to show, I "remembered," how Dunkin' Donuts's products and practices embodied the sentiment of taking things easy and enjoying the good things in life. I knew what a cheap lie that was. It kind of creeped me out.
I watched the commercial. The manager stood by the door a second after the employee exited. Then he walked out. He saw the employee kissing his girlfriend. He shouted, "Hey!" like he was mad.
The employee turned, shocked and afraid.
The manager said, "Matter of fact, take two hours off. It's on me."
The view cut to a wide shot of the girl, boy, and manager standing in front of a wall of a "red barn," an the manager standing in an open doorway.
Dream 1
I was out in a plaza area that seems somehow like a carnival. I saw my boss EB in a black suit jacket and slacks, black tie, white shirt, black sunglasses, talking with a young man sitting on a stool -- like EB was an FBI agent trying to recruit a new agent. But the things EB said sounded like he was interrogating the young man. I thought, I hope the kid isn't afraid he's guilty of something and end up running off.
My focus faded away toward something like a structure for a merry-go-round. I heard EB say something like "Don't worry. I'll be back. I just have to convince this guy. But he'll come around pretty easy."
I was in "my" bedroom. The room had thin wood walls and thin carpet, but an overall familiar and nice feel. I was happy to be back. But I saw a toy of mine (?), something like a motorized car-toy with big, nubby wheels and a thin, shoe-like, grey white, and yellow body laying on the floor instead of on the coffee table where I'd left it.
I was nervous, worrying about who had been in my room.
I walked into another room, which was "the same room," and saw papers I had left scattered on my bed. The papers were like my thoughts on some creative work I was trying to piece together. I was happy to see it all. I sat down on the bed and tore into the papers.
I was on a lake shore or rather a little bar of land that went into a vast lake. It was trashy, barren land. The lake was kind of dirty. I was with a group like a church group. I felt alone and a little dirty, unkempt.
I saw something weird in the water (I believe we had been looking for weird fish in the water). I walked by myself to the water's edge, to the weird animal. It was like a huge fish with weird "bear lips" sticking out of the water. I backed up and shouted to a suited group-leader (also a "friend"). I was more and more confused and afraid, as if the "bear lips" on the fish body became a shaven "bear head."
The fish was now a bear. It emerged from the lake decomposed and gnarled -- its hair green, its eyes skull-like, its body emaciated. It called (telepathically?) to me, Why are you afraid? Aren't you supposed to be the one close to me? Aren't you supposed to understand me?
It walked toward me and past me. I caught up and followed it like a friend, talking in a puppy-like way, like a twerp would talk to a cool kid.
We were in a small, very private apartment living room. The bear was "filling out" two "advertisements," which kind of looked like SEC reports with a ton of blanks, and empty space between the paragraphs. As you filled in, by deduction, the blanks of these forms/"advertisements," you were informed -- almost downloaded with -- the advertising message of the company. The companies were Pepsi and Coke. The bear liked one, and I agreed -- the messaging hidden in the blanks was much wittier and yet much more easily obtainable.
I and a couple people "continued" our tour through this "beverage museum." We were now in a mock-up of a fast-food restaurant. The person behind the counter (orange counter, garish orange, pink, and purple everywhere, with some flooring and surfaces of a wood-like-textured tile or plastic material) was monotonously blabbing about advertisements on TVs over her head.
I saw one of the advertisements, and yet it was like it was happening right beside me and deep within my mind. People were rushing to a self-serve fountain to get abundances of soda in a quick time. One person filled a flimsy, plastic, 32-ounce cup to overflowing (so the plastic lid kept bubbling and brimming off) with flattish, orange soda.
This weird soda race wasn't a contest or a promotion -- rather, the beverage company was just trying to get people "into the spirit" of drinking more soda more quickly than everybody else they knew, basically to drive sales. The mock-up restaurant was a Dunkin' Donuts, which had been purchased by a big company like Coke or Pepsi.
The next commercial was playing on the "homestyle" attitude of the company (?). The tour guide behind the coutner said, "This is the ad that made the phrase 'Take an hour off' famous."
The ad showed two guys, a manager and an employee, in the back area of a Dunkin' Donuts (which was more like a machine sled or a barn or a garage). The manager knew the employee had his girlfriend outside, waiting. He told the kid, "Go to lunch. And you know what? You can take an hour off."
I knew the really famous part of the commercial was coming up -- though I couldn't remember how it came up. In the famous part, the manager said, "Take two hours off." This was supposed to show, I "remembered," how Dunkin' Donuts's products and practices embodied the sentiment of taking things easy and enjoying the good things in life. I knew what a cheap lie that was. It kind of creeped me out.
I watched the commercial. The manager stood by the door a second after the employee exited. Then he walked out. He saw the employee kissing his girlfriend. He shouted, "Hey!" like he was mad.
The employee turned, shocked and afraid.
The manager said, "Matter of fact, take two hours off. It's on me."
The view cut to a wide shot of the girl, boy, and manager standing in front of a wall of a "red barn," an the manager standing in an open doorway.
(9/13/06) dangerous pool; sixty poisons; hometown food court
(Entered in paper journal at 7:45 PM at home in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I and a woman (and maybe others) followed a man into a pool. The man was a leader like from a hippie religious cult. We stepped down into the thick water. He said something like, "If people can't handle this they shouldn't go any farther in. If you haven't developed enough, the water may kill you."
I was panicked. I "walked" clockwise in this gelly, sea-green water in the moonlight. We may have been wading because we were now in deep water. But I was still in only to slightly above my bellybutton. I breathed shallowly like the water was cold. But it was warm. I was really breathing shallowly because I was getting sick. I knew this, and was getting more and more worried.
Dream 2
I was with my mom in something like a coliseum for an indoor sports tournament like hockey, basketball, or something like martial arts. My hands were itchy, cracked, and dry, like I had an illness. I was embarrassed to tell my mom what was wrong, but I at least told her my hands were itching.
My mom said, "Well, go get some lotion. In this place, someone must have lotion!"
I walked around the stadium counterclockwise in an aisle near the front row. I asked people for lotion. Nobody really had any. I sat down in a space with five or six empty seats. Some man to my left (who also may have offered me some lotion) moved over to me. I thought he was gay. I didn't want to talk to him because I thought he was trying to pick me up.
For some reason now I was facing away from the game area, like I'd stood and leaned my back against a railing and faced the man in a seat.
The man told me, "The screens are wonderful today. Usually you feel like nobody's even working behind them. But today the images are very human and spontaneous."
I knew the man was talking about the LED digital screens that displayed highlights and scores, etc. I turned to look. The game area was shrouded by a big, black, thick mesh net. But from the right side of it I saw most of a display screen. It was just displaying a pattern of green squares before a black background like a fountains of cards. It wasn't very impressed.
I walked out to the "ticket booth," which was like an admission desk for a museum. A woman was there -- kind of looked like a pale blonde intellectual skater chick -- but she also wasn't there.
I walked behind a desk and found a book like a coffee table or picture book. I read through it. It was about people who had gone insane and done some pretty awful things.
At some point it was like I was watching a documentary of these people on one of the display screens in the stadium. Close to the end I was "inside" the documentary as if I was seeing -- feeling -- through the electric-buzzed world of the camera. I cornered into a room from a hallway and saw a guitar case, opened, on the floor before a bed.
There were subtitles instead of narration. A young man had gone psychotic. He buried his beagle deep underground in a guitar case. This was after he had boiled the dog. But the dog had been dead before the boiling. The young man had poisoned the dog with sixty poisons -- sixty poisons.
(As I woke up and lay in bed I thought, Well, it shows that people in real life still do some of the things Jung noted his alchemists as discussing symbolically.)
Dream 3
I was on a bus tour that stopped in a town just a small way from "my hometown." I wondered if I couldn't just go back. We were in a food court.
I walked outside. The building was rather small, black brick, like a suburban doctors' office complex. I walked on the wide lawn counterclockwise around the building.
Dream 1
I and a woman (and maybe others) followed a man into a pool. The man was a leader like from a hippie religious cult. We stepped down into the thick water. He said something like, "If people can't handle this they shouldn't go any farther in. If you haven't developed enough, the water may kill you."
I was panicked. I "walked" clockwise in this gelly, sea-green water in the moonlight. We may have been wading because we were now in deep water. But I was still in only to slightly above my bellybutton. I breathed shallowly like the water was cold. But it was warm. I was really breathing shallowly because I was getting sick. I knew this, and was getting more and more worried.
Dream 2
I was with my mom in something like a coliseum for an indoor sports tournament like hockey, basketball, or something like martial arts. My hands were itchy, cracked, and dry, like I had an illness. I was embarrassed to tell my mom what was wrong, but I at least told her my hands were itching.
My mom said, "Well, go get some lotion. In this place, someone must have lotion!"
I walked around the stadium counterclockwise in an aisle near the front row. I asked people for lotion. Nobody really had any. I sat down in a space with five or six empty seats. Some man to my left (who also may have offered me some lotion) moved over to me. I thought he was gay. I didn't want to talk to him because I thought he was trying to pick me up.
For some reason now I was facing away from the game area, like I'd stood and leaned my back against a railing and faced the man in a seat.
The man told me, "The screens are wonderful today. Usually you feel like nobody's even working behind them. But today the images are very human and spontaneous."
I knew the man was talking about the LED digital screens that displayed highlights and scores, etc. I turned to look. The game area was shrouded by a big, black, thick mesh net. But from the right side of it I saw most of a display screen. It was just displaying a pattern of green squares before a black background like a fountains of cards. It wasn't very impressed.
I walked out to the "ticket booth," which was like an admission desk for a museum. A woman was there -- kind of looked like a pale blonde intellectual skater chick -- but she also wasn't there.
I walked behind a desk and found a book like a coffee table or picture book. I read through it. It was about people who had gone insane and done some pretty awful things.
At some point it was like I was watching a documentary of these people on one of the display screens in the stadium. Close to the end I was "inside" the documentary as if I was seeing -- feeling -- through the electric-buzzed world of the camera. I cornered into a room from a hallway and saw a guitar case, opened, on the floor before a bed.
There were subtitles instead of narration. A young man had gone psychotic. He buried his beagle deep underground in a guitar case. This was after he had boiled the dog. But the dog had been dead before the boiling. The young man had poisoned the dog with sixty poisons -- sixty poisons.
(As I woke up and lay in bed I thought, Well, it shows that people in real life still do some of the things Jung noted his alchemists as discussing symbolically.)
Dream 3
I was on a bus tour that stopped in a town just a small way from "my hometown." I wondered if I couldn't just go back. We were in a food court.
I walked outside. The building was rather small, black brick, like a suburban doctors' office complex. I walked on the wide lawn counterclockwise around the building.
Monday, February 6, 2017
(9/28/06) space age jet plane restaurant; the lotus bend; postcard from brother
(Entered in paper journal at 4:50 AM on 4-train from Utica Avenue in Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I walked through a wide street of tallish buildings in the sunshine and a pale blue sky. I saw a jet plane fly by over the buildings. The jet was white, triangular but somehow sleek, with red edges. Where the air intakes should have been were huge windows.
I was walking with someone. I asked, "How do they always appear so classy in those things?"
Inside what was apparently this passenger plane groups of people sat at nice tables like at a restaurant. There was one attendant per table. All attendants wore black. The attendants would bring food from what looked like a concierge desk. The "restaurant" (from the inside) had an atmosphere like you might expect at the Seattle space needle. I feel like I was expecting a view of a space shuttle through the windows.
Dream 2
It was night. I ran along a street and then turned right, into a field like a vacant lot. I was testing the ease with which this area could be traveled through in order to obtain something valuable to the stock of a company I was researching.
As I ran through the lot of wild grass tufts and gravely soil and I approached a river, the land became soggier and soggier. Finally I headed down to the river at a bend that was stuffed with waterlilies and lotuses. The night was very purple here. I walked across the river, which was not deeper than the height of my shoes.
It was day. I brought someone from the sales team at my work with me. We ran off the street into the open field. Cars could be seen occasionally on a distant road like a rural highway as we ran. We got closer to the river right away. We stopped by some craggy trees and made adjustments to our gear.
We continued running. The ground got soggier and soggier. Finally it started developing puddles. By the time we got to the "lotus bend" the river and the ground were equally deluged.
I told the guy from sales, "Don't worry. Last night I stepped into the river and it was extremely easy to walk through."
I took a step into the river and the water, dirty, waved up below me. I was being carried in rolling waves. So was the person with me. Occasionally a "lotus" would drift past us.
After the waves had carried us back to the trees where we had stopped to change gear they disappeared altogether, leaving us on dry land. My feet were bare. One of my big toes had a big, circular wound on it.
I thought, How could I have gone in such dirty water with that wound on my foot? The salesperson (MJ?) and I were talking about something, but I could only think about the wound on my foot.
My legs were soaked. I looked at my feet again. I was wearing white tennis shoes which were covered in muck. I saw something in a couple of holes in the shoes that made me think the flesh on my feet was rotting away, turning green.
I panicked. MJ (?) asked if everything was alright. I crouched to check out my feet. I wiped all the muck off my shoes. I realized the grossness in the holes in my shoes was just the way the dirty water and muck had stained my socks.
I told MJ, "Everything's okay. I'll be fine."
Dream 3
Something to do with solar power. I stood at a "hotel" desk in a warehouse-like building that was immaculate and filled with gentle waves of yellow, red, and purple light. It was almost like Grand Central Station.
Someone was in line ahead of me. The person behind the desk, an Asian man, spoke to us about something regarding solar power. I handed him a card like a postcard. The man analyzed it, handed it back, and made a judgment on me, like "You have too much OTC to make the night journey."
I read the back of the postcard. It was from my brother. There was only a little writing, in a sloppy hand. As I read it, I thought of how badly I've always treated my brother.
Dream 1
I walked through a wide street of tallish buildings in the sunshine and a pale blue sky. I saw a jet plane fly by over the buildings. The jet was white, triangular but somehow sleek, with red edges. Where the air intakes should have been were huge windows.
I was walking with someone. I asked, "How do they always appear so classy in those things?"
Inside what was apparently this passenger plane groups of people sat at nice tables like at a restaurant. There was one attendant per table. All attendants wore black. The attendants would bring food from what looked like a concierge desk. The "restaurant" (from the inside) had an atmosphere like you might expect at the Seattle space needle. I feel like I was expecting a view of a space shuttle through the windows.
Dream 2
It was night. I ran along a street and then turned right, into a field like a vacant lot. I was testing the ease with which this area could be traveled through in order to obtain something valuable to the stock of a company I was researching.
As I ran through the lot of wild grass tufts and gravely soil and I approached a river, the land became soggier and soggier. Finally I headed down to the river at a bend that was stuffed with waterlilies and lotuses. The night was very purple here. I walked across the river, which was not deeper than the height of my shoes.
It was day. I brought someone from the sales team at my work with me. We ran off the street into the open field. Cars could be seen occasionally on a distant road like a rural highway as we ran. We got closer to the river right away. We stopped by some craggy trees and made adjustments to our gear.
We continued running. The ground got soggier and soggier. Finally it started developing puddles. By the time we got to the "lotus bend" the river and the ground were equally deluged.
I told the guy from sales, "Don't worry. Last night I stepped into the river and it was extremely easy to walk through."
I took a step into the river and the water, dirty, waved up below me. I was being carried in rolling waves. So was the person with me. Occasionally a "lotus" would drift past us.
After the waves had carried us back to the trees where we had stopped to change gear they disappeared altogether, leaving us on dry land. My feet were bare. One of my big toes had a big, circular wound on it.
I thought, How could I have gone in such dirty water with that wound on my foot? The salesperson (MJ?) and I were talking about something, but I could only think about the wound on my foot.
My legs were soaked. I looked at my feet again. I was wearing white tennis shoes which were covered in muck. I saw something in a couple of holes in the shoes that made me think the flesh on my feet was rotting away, turning green.
I panicked. MJ (?) asked if everything was alright. I crouched to check out my feet. I wiped all the muck off my shoes. I realized the grossness in the holes in my shoes was just the way the dirty water and muck had stained my socks.
I told MJ, "Everything's okay. I'll be fine."
Dream 3
Something to do with solar power. I stood at a "hotel" desk in a warehouse-like building that was immaculate and filled with gentle waves of yellow, red, and purple light. It was almost like Grand Central Station.
Someone was in line ahead of me. The person behind the desk, an Asian man, spoke to us about something regarding solar power. I handed him a card like a postcard. The man analyzed it, handed it back, and made a judgment on me, like "You have too much OTC to make the night journey."
I read the back of the postcard. It was from my brother. There was only a little writing, in a sloppy hand. As I read it, I thought of how badly I've always treated my brother.
Sunday, February 5, 2017
(10/12/06) the flesh-colored whale;the kids from the jets
(Entered in paper journal at 8 PM at home in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I was flying over bodies of water. They were in all different sizes and types but in weird, distorted senses. They all had disgusting, dirty water I was afraid to touch. At one point I flew over a "pool" like where a sandbox would be in a "playground." The "sandbox/pool" had a ghastly floor like limestone lumps or toad skin.
I stood by a swing set on a sandbar that edged into a large body of water. The singer Beck was by me, accusing me of something that implied I didn't value him as a person. I tried to prove that wasn't so.
I was flying over the body of water. Soon I was in it -- I had to go in it. I had to go under it and find a flesh-colored whale. There were lots of giant fish down there.
Somewhere far off, people were watching me. I had to prove to them that I was brave. But I also simply needed to find the whale -- regardless of how much I didn't want to.
The water disgusted me -- it was opaque and brown. I just waded in it. But I didn't want to go under the surface. There you couldn't see anything. Nothing was particularly bad. It was just disgusting -- fish deformed, fleshy, like severed arms. I was afraid they could bump into me without seeing me and spook me so much I would go crazy or contract a disease. But still I had to do it.
Dream 2
I was in some kind of building. Through wide, short windows I saw a Stealth Bomber. I called it something like an SR-10. It flew from left to right. I heard some people talking. Then I saw a couple Blackbirds. Then a whole procession of black jets, like cars of a train, blasted before the window.
I hurried outside to see. I was on a concrete area at the top of gravel hill (artificial) bordered by a fence. The jets flew low enough to be at eye level (obviously). But by the time I got outside all the black jets were gone. There were only grey jets, and only a few.
Some Mexican people, mostly kids, were chattering nearby. Some had been dropped off by some of the jets. I looked to my right, down the roughly two-hundred-foot slope, to a lot (like a parking lot!) full of jets.
The kids asked me if they could stay at my place (while they waited for the next wave of jets to come pick them up?). I thought to my place -- how I had left girl clothes everywhere and how the kids might dislike me for the girl clothes. I also thought of how dirty my place was.
I thought I couldn't have the kids stay with me and see what a loser I was. I gave the kids a weird excuse -- (I had to talk to my "landlady"?) -- making it clear I had to go away for a moment and then come back and tell the kids if they could stay, though I (possibly they) already knew it couldn't happen.
I was disappointed in myself. I thought, I can't even be brave enough to let these people into my house?
Dream 1
I was flying over bodies of water. They were in all different sizes and types but in weird, distorted senses. They all had disgusting, dirty water I was afraid to touch. At one point I flew over a "pool" like where a sandbox would be in a "playground." The "sandbox/pool" had a ghastly floor like limestone lumps or toad skin.
I stood by a swing set on a sandbar that edged into a large body of water. The singer Beck was by me, accusing me of something that implied I didn't value him as a person. I tried to prove that wasn't so.
I was flying over the body of water. Soon I was in it -- I had to go in it. I had to go under it and find a flesh-colored whale. There were lots of giant fish down there.
Somewhere far off, people were watching me. I had to prove to them that I was brave. But I also simply needed to find the whale -- regardless of how much I didn't want to.
The water disgusted me -- it was opaque and brown. I just waded in it. But I didn't want to go under the surface. There you couldn't see anything. Nothing was particularly bad. It was just disgusting -- fish deformed, fleshy, like severed arms. I was afraid they could bump into me without seeing me and spook me so much I would go crazy or contract a disease. But still I had to do it.
Dream 2
I was in some kind of building. Through wide, short windows I saw a Stealth Bomber. I called it something like an SR-10. It flew from left to right. I heard some people talking. Then I saw a couple Blackbirds. Then a whole procession of black jets, like cars of a train, blasted before the window.
I hurried outside to see. I was on a concrete area at the top of gravel hill (artificial) bordered by a fence. The jets flew low enough to be at eye level (obviously). But by the time I got outside all the black jets were gone. There were only grey jets, and only a few.
Some Mexican people, mostly kids, were chattering nearby. Some had been dropped off by some of the jets. I looked to my right, down the roughly two-hundred-foot slope, to a lot (like a parking lot!) full of jets.
The kids asked me if they could stay at my place (while they waited for the next wave of jets to come pick them up?). I thought to my place -- how I had left girl clothes everywhere and how the kids might dislike me for the girl clothes. I also thought of how dirty my place was.
I thought I couldn't have the kids stay with me and see what a loser I was. I gave the kids a weird excuse -- (I had to talk to my "landlady"?) -- making it clear I had to go away for a moment and then come back and tell the kids if they could stay, though I (possibly they) already knew it couldn't happen.
I was disappointed in myself. I thought, I can't even be brave enough to let these people into my house?
Sunday, February 17, 2013
(9/10/07) drinking the undrinkable; ang lee's silk stalkings; my neighbor is harassed
(Entered in paper journal at 6 PM on Q-train from Manhattan to Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was in a bedroom with a little, Mexican boy and his father. The room was almost empty but cluttered near the center with a pale grey box and some papers. On the box may have been some cups of water.
The father was trying to explain to me how the child was trying to get water from me. I had cups of water that looked non-potable -- brownish, with a weird, sweet smell. But the father told me this was fine for the boy to drink: he just needed water: he had gone so long without it.
I realized with shame how comfortable my life must be. I was willing to withhold perfectly fine water to a child who was desperately in need of water, just because I thought the water was, in a sense, vulgar.
Dream #2
I was in a movie theater lobby. I stood before a console like an arcade video game which was playing a "preview for" the new Ang Lee movie.
To my right were three cut-out, cardboard displays, each about six feet tall. The one second to my right caught my attention. It had a diorama-like display fronted with clear cellophane. The display was of tiny "film strips" made out of cardboard. Each strip advertised a different movie.
One ad showed a woman's high-heeled foot standing on a map. Something was written about fighter jets. But something else was written, like Silk Stalkings. I couldn't see how either of these film programs (fighter jets or "Silk Stalkings") could be at this theater (not sure why...). Then I realized the ad-strips in these displays were for different movie theaters.
Dream #3
I stood on the ground level in a courtyard of an apartment complex. It was night. I looked up to my right, to a second- or third-floor balcony. The front door of one of the apartments on the balcony was half-opened, with some incandescent light peering through the crack. I knew that this was the apartment building of the old man who had been my neighbor when I'd lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in 2004.
People in the complex, I knew, had been trying to break into the old man's house because they didn't like him, possibly because he was Jewish. (He had, in fact, in waking life, come from Israel a couple decades previously.) There was silver graffiti on the old man's door. The message was pretty clearly anti-Semitic. I was afraid for my neighbor.
Dream #1
I was in a bedroom with a little, Mexican boy and his father. The room was almost empty but cluttered near the center with a pale grey box and some papers. On the box may have been some cups of water.
The father was trying to explain to me how the child was trying to get water from me. I had cups of water that looked non-potable -- brownish, with a weird, sweet smell. But the father told me this was fine for the boy to drink: he just needed water: he had gone so long without it.
I realized with shame how comfortable my life must be. I was willing to withhold perfectly fine water to a child who was desperately in need of water, just because I thought the water was, in a sense, vulgar.
Dream #2
I was in a movie theater lobby. I stood before a console like an arcade video game which was playing a "preview for" the new Ang Lee movie.
To my right were three cut-out, cardboard displays, each about six feet tall. The one second to my right caught my attention. It had a diorama-like display fronted with clear cellophane. The display was of tiny "film strips" made out of cardboard. Each strip advertised a different movie.
One ad showed a woman's high-heeled foot standing on a map. Something was written about fighter jets. But something else was written, like Silk Stalkings. I couldn't see how either of these film programs (fighter jets or "Silk Stalkings") could be at this theater (not sure why...). Then I realized the ad-strips in these displays were for different movie theaters.
Dream #3
I stood on the ground level in a courtyard of an apartment complex. It was night. I looked up to my right, to a second- or third-floor balcony. The front door of one of the apartments on the balcony was half-opened, with some incandescent light peering through the crack. I knew that this was the apartment building of the old man who had been my neighbor when I'd lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in 2004.
People in the complex, I knew, had been trying to break into the old man's house because they didn't like him, possibly because he was Jewish. (He had, in fact, in waking life, come from Israel a couple decades previously.) There was silver graffiti on the old man's door. The message was pretty clearly anti-Semitic. I was afraid for my neighbor.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)