(Entered in paper journal at 10 AM at the Tea Lounge on Union Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I was in a large, dark sanctuary area full of kids partying like at a rock concert. On stage was a band with a singer who looked like Scott Weiland.
I must not have been able to "get" the songs, though I was singing them, because at some point I realized this was all a Christian event. I felt ill at ease, like I couldn't possibly sing these songs because I truly had no idea what they were about or what their words were. I knew I could never be a rock star.
The band left the stage and then came back in. this time they sang "Sour Girl" by Stone Temple Pilots. I turned to some male friend of mine, possibly my cousin and best friend PS, and excitedly grabbed his arms or gave him five.
But when I tried singing the song I realized I didn't know the words to this song, either. I didn't even know the title. And I sang way out of tune, in an awful, pinched voice.
Dream 2
I stood outside on some street corner and possibly at the foot of stairs leading to an elevated train platform. The place looks slightly like Harlem. It was a sunny, clear day.
Two black women, like a mother and daughter, stood by me. The mother told me something like, "Don't worry. You're in the right place. This train goes straight to town."
We were now on the train. I lost track of them. The train ran along high enough to seem to run along the tops of the buildings. Some white woman spoke to someone on a cell phone, saying, "I don't remember New York being like this. The arrangement of buildings surprises me."
We were now pulling into Port Authority, like we were pulling directly into the second floor balcony area, right next to the post office. It still felt like buildings were somewhere inside the building. I thought, I don't remember the trains being this way, but how convenient.
I could sense my mom and Grandma Pat waiting for me at the top of an escalator at the end of the train. I stood up and walked toward the door. I turned around when I realized I'd left my backpack. I went back but couldn't remember exactly where I had been sitting. I think the train was back outside.
Dream 3
No vision. I spoke to my grandfather on the phone. I told him I was planning to come to Denver for Christmas, but that I had to make some money first. He said, "If you can't afford a ticket, we'll send you one."
I said, "Okay. That may need to happen."
I then realized he and I were communicating telepathically. I didn't want him to read any of my angrier thoughts. So I told him I had to go. He said okay.
The vision became slightly purplish and textured like a rough, splayed-open organ with a mound and a hole at the top of the mural. A cord like an umbilical cord sucked back down into the hole with a grainy, muddy slurp.
Dream 4
I stood in something like a belt-rope line at the edge of some carpeted area that was supposed to be a soccer field inside something like an arcade place for kids. A bunch of kids played soccer.
I was looking for my oldest nephew. I looked among all the players. They all wore these cardboard, squarish costumes with very fine and flashy graphics to make them look like anime robots. They may even have been on wheels: small, Tonka-truck-like wheels. The kids even had their hair spiked out or gelled down like anime and manga characters. I thought, Anime has made more things than just anime popular. It's also made sports like soccer and basketball popular.
Not finding my nephew I turned away from the field. I looked down the empty line to a mom and a kid in a stroller. The kid was doing something cute. I laughed at first. But then I stopped laughing when I saw that the mother thought I was some kind of pervert. I now looked up the line and saw my mother, my grandmother, and my nephew all waiting for me.
Showing posts with label being thought perverted. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being thought perverted. Show all posts
Monday, March 20, 2017
Saturday, March 4, 2017
(8/12/05) can't hide my perversion; weightlifting toilet humor; rose of sharon
(Entered in paper journal at 5 PM at Starbucks on 43rd Street and 3rd Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I was outside, possibly at night, at the foot of a very small slope, like the small slope up to train tracks. Some friends, among them my friend R, were up on the top of the slope. I sat, legs folded lazily under me, amid a bunch of white, wadded up art tissue paper and piles of pornography magazines.
Now the friends came over the slope so they could see me. I tried desperately to hide all the pornography. But R saw me and was disappointed.
Possibly the scene changed to a bedroom, in which I was just barely hiding. I may have been trying to dress up in women's clothing. I had mirrors all around me. Once again R came into the room. He ridiculed me, not only for my perversion, but for hiding it so clumsily.
Dream 2
A weird weightlifting contest. People sat on something like a toilet and lifted something like dumbbells that were attached to pulleys. I'm pretty sure the people didn't do curls, but rather lifted laterally, with their shoulders and then their elbows. I sat or crouched on their left sides.
About five or six guys were in the contest. Each guy was strong but kind of dorky looking. The last guy looked Hispanic. He "was" a good friend. He had a backwards hat on and possibly long hair and a mustache. As he began to lift I said some inside joke and made him laugh and mess up.
Someone got mad at me for slowing things down. I tried to duplicate the joke. I only made things more awkward.
Dream 3
I was out doing some tree census work with my NYC Americorps coworker VT. It was early evening. The sky was dark blue. We were on a road that curved long
with the concave side facing a long, steep slope. The left side of the street had only a few trees. I let VT take that side, since it was easier.
I walked up to the first tree on my side. It was a Rose-of-Sharon, with wide, soft petals.
Dream 1
I was outside, possibly at night, at the foot of a very small slope, like the small slope up to train tracks. Some friends, among them my friend R, were up on the top of the slope. I sat, legs folded lazily under me, amid a bunch of white, wadded up art tissue paper and piles of pornography magazines.
Now the friends came over the slope so they could see me. I tried desperately to hide all the pornography. But R saw me and was disappointed.
Possibly the scene changed to a bedroom, in which I was just barely hiding. I may have been trying to dress up in women's clothing. I had mirrors all around me. Once again R came into the room. He ridiculed me, not only for my perversion, but for hiding it so clumsily.
Dream 2
A weird weightlifting contest. People sat on something like a toilet and lifted something like dumbbells that were attached to pulleys. I'm pretty sure the people didn't do curls, but rather lifted laterally, with their shoulders and then their elbows. I sat or crouched on their left sides.
About five or six guys were in the contest. Each guy was strong but kind of dorky looking. The last guy looked Hispanic. He "was" a good friend. He had a backwards hat on and possibly long hair and a mustache. As he began to lift I said some inside joke and made him laugh and mess up.
Someone got mad at me for slowing things down. I tried to duplicate the joke. I only made things more awkward.
Dream 3
I was out doing some tree census work with my NYC Americorps coworker VT. It was early evening. The sky was dark blue. We were on a road that curved long
with the concave side facing a long, steep slope. The left side of the street had only a few trees. I let VT take that side, since it was easier.
I walked up to the first tree on my side. It was a Rose-of-Sharon, with wide, soft petals.
Sunday, February 19, 2017
(2/18/06) fighting a skinhead with a big house
(Entered in paper journal at 8:49 AM at Muddy Waters coffee shop on Vanderbilt Avenue in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I was in something like a roadside gift shop. The shop was full of people rushing back and forth. I don't know what I was doing there. Eventually I felt so bullied by everybody that I backed to the left side, near a garbage can and possibly a sales counter. But everybody kept brushing up against me even then, so I walked across the small floor to a painted wooden bench.
A boy (black or Hispanic?) sat by me. I was against the armrest to my left. I had something like a newspaper or a big book in my hands. At first I thought the kid was going to taunt me like everybody else. But he turned out just to be interested in me. I wanted to embrace the boy and read to him from my "book." But I was afraid that if I did this his parents, or any adults nearby, would try to accuse me of having bad intentions.
I was about to embrace him, anyway. But a big, shaved-headed, white man, the boy's father or guardian, sat down between us. The man wore a tan trench coat. He managed to sit so that he smashed my feet, which were now up on the bench. I may have been wearing yellow or pink canvas shoes. The man had pale blue eyes.
The man sat with his back to me so that he faced his child. He would then look over his left shoulder and smirk at me. I knew he just wanted to give me a "half-look" to give me a queasy sense of uncertainty and annoy me.
I just tried to ignore the man. I went back to reading my "book." The man, now seeing that he couldn't annoy me by splitting up me and the boy, smashing my feet, sitting with his back to me, and constantly giving me a queasy "half-look," now kept swinging his arms backwards so he would hit my "book" (which now seems to have been the comics section from a Sunday paper).
I may have taken the comics section and rolled it up and used it to hit the man, or I may have just hit the man with my hands. I swatted him on both his ears.
The man was big. And he looked like a skinhead. I was afraid of him. But I wanted to fight. But the man didn't even look at me.
I yelled at the man, "You know what you're doing! You're responsible for your actions! I'm not trying to bother you! Don't bother me!"
I lost focus, though somehow my tirade continued. The scene slowly changed to a slightly barren wilderness before a white-grey cliff. The man had a small structure that looked like a children's mock-up of an alpine-style, two-story house. I, too, had changed into an old, white man with a balding forehead and crown and long, scraggly, salt-and-pepper hair and beard. I probably wore a too-tight white t-shirt and jeans. I had complained at the man.
Now I was walking back to my home, which was something like a short, thick-trunked, gnarled cherry tree with a full canopy of tiny, synaptic branches the leaf buds of which were like rose thorns (actual thorns, not spiky leaf buds like the buds of beech leafs). I didn't live in the tree -- i.e. I didn't live in a hole in the trunk, in the canopy, etc. Instead, I just stood by the trunk, and that was how I lived at the tree. And I never actually "saw" "myself" (the old man). I just "saw" the tree and "felt" "myself/the old man" walk to the tree. I even "felt" something like a silhouette against the tree.
My statement angered the big white man. He was coming to fight me. I knew I'd have to fight. But I didn't know how I could. The man had a "big house." All I had was this tree. I already felt defeated and pathetic.
Dream 1
I was in something like a roadside gift shop. The shop was full of people rushing back and forth. I don't know what I was doing there. Eventually I felt so bullied by everybody that I backed to the left side, near a garbage can and possibly a sales counter. But everybody kept brushing up against me even then, so I walked across the small floor to a painted wooden bench.
A boy (black or Hispanic?) sat by me. I was against the armrest to my left. I had something like a newspaper or a big book in my hands. At first I thought the kid was going to taunt me like everybody else. But he turned out just to be interested in me. I wanted to embrace the boy and read to him from my "book." But I was afraid that if I did this his parents, or any adults nearby, would try to accuse me of having bad intentions.
I was about to embrace him, anyway. But a big, shaved-headed, white man, the boy's father or guardian, sat down between us. The man wore a tan trench coat. He managed to sit so that he smashed my feet, which were now up on the bench. I may have been wearing yellow or pink canvas shoes. The man had pale blue eyes.
The man sat with his back to me so that he faced his child. He would then look over his left shoulder and smirk at me. I knew he just wanted to give me a "half-look" to give me a queasy sense of uncertainty and annoy me.
I just tried to ignore the man. I went back to reading my "book." The man, now seeing that he couldn't annoy me by splitting up me and the boy, smashing my feet, sitting with his back to me, and constantly giving me a queasy "half-look," now kept swinging his arms backwards so he would hit my "book" (which now seems to have been the comics section from a Sunday paper).
I may have taken the comics section and rolled it up and used it to hit the man, or I may have just hit the man with my hands. I swatted him on both his ears.
The man was big. And he looked like a skinhead. I was afraid of him. But I wanted to fight. But the man didn't even look at me.
I yelled at the man, "You know what you're doing! You're responsible for your actions! I'm not trying to bother you! Don't bother me!"
I lost focus, though somehow my tirade continued. The scene slowly changed to a slightly barren wilderness before a white-grey cliff. The man had a small structure that looked like a children's mock-up of an alpine-style, two-story house. I, too, had changed into an old, white man with a balding forehead and crown and long, scraggly, salt-and-pepper hair and beard. I probably wore a too-tight white t-shirt and jeans. I had complained at the man.
Now I was walking back to my home, which was something like a short, thick-trunked, gnarled cherry tree with a full canopy of tiny, synaptic branches the leaf buds of which were like rose thorns (actual thorns, not spiky leaf buds like the buds of beech leafs). I didn't live in the tree -- i.e. I didn't live in a hole in the trunk, in the canopy, etc. Instead, I just stood by the trunk, and that was how I lived at the tree. And I never actually "saw" "myself" (the old man). I just "saw" the tree and "felt" "myself/the old man" walk to the tree. I even "felt" something like a silhouette against the tree.
My statement angered the big white man. He was coming to fight me. I knew I'd have to fight. But I didn't know how I could. The man had a "big house." All I had was this tree. I already felt defeated and pathetic.
Thursday, February 16, 2017
(4/14/06) brokeback basketball
(Entered in paper journal at 9:35 AM at Starbucks on Astor Place.)
Dream 1
I walked through a movie theater lobby (like the Wirock in Albuquerque) and to a theater with an open door. I was afraid to go inside: I saw so many families, especially children. I wanted to see this movie. But I didn't want to be thought of as a kid. I also didn't want to be thought of as some kind of pervert that hangs around kids.
Now I was watching a film like Brokeback Mountain, except that the ranchers were now gold miners. The Heath Ledger charcter just kept going on and on about gold, about some mine that had a vein of gold that if he could just get funding for it, would just produce and produce.
As the speech progressed, I melded into the man, and the mountain scene faded into a location like a bus stop near a set of apartments I'd lived in in my last year of college. I sat on the right end of the bench, with a female coworker to my left and a male coworker to her left.
I finished up the speech and kind of broke myself out of my daze or spell to discover where I was. I heard my two coworkers laughing about a third coworker.
The coworker had participated in a basketball game with some other workers. He had come back to work telling people about it -- or else my coworkers were talking about how he would come back to work talking about it.
My coworkers knew the third coworker wasn't any good at basketball but that he had bragged (or would brag) about how well he had done. The coworkers started laughing and saying the things he had said or would say.
It actually sounded like the third coworker was right there, joking about himself. There were two statements that were made that sounded like business quotes, like "I really helped drive our earnings growth," and "The team says I had good synergistic strategies."
I was laughing so hard imagining this guy saying all this stuff that I was almost doubled over. I now realized there was a black iron lamppost to my right.
Dream 1
I walked through a movie theater lobby (like the Wirock in Albuquerque) and to a theater with an open door. I was afraid to go inside: I saw so many families, especially children. I wanted to see this movie. But I didn't want to be thought of as a kid. I also didn't want to be thought of as some kind of pervert that hangs around kids.
Now I was watching a film like Brokeback Mountain, except that the ranchers were now gold miners. The Heath Ledger charcter just kept going on and on about gold, about some mine that had a vein of gold that if he could just get funding for it, would just produce and produce.
As the speech progressed, I melded into the man, and the mountain scene faded into a location like a bus stop near a set of apartments I'd lived in in my last year of college. I sat on the right end of the bench, with a female coworker to my left and a male coworker to her left.
I finished up the speech and kind of broke myself out of my daze or spell to discover where I was. I heard my two coworkers laughing about a third coworker.
The coworker had participated in a basketball game with some other workers. He had come back to work telling people about it -- or else my coworkers were talking about how he would come back to work talking about it.
My coworkers knew the third coworker wasn't any good at basketball but that he had bragged (or would brag) about how well he had done. The coworkers started laughing and saying the things he had said or would say.
It actually sounded like the third coworker was right there, joking about himself. There were two statements that were made that sounded like business quotes, like "I really helped drive our earnings growth," and "The team says I had good synergistic strategies."
I was laughing so hard imagining this guy saying all this stuff that I was almost doubled over. I now realized there was a black iron lamppost to my right.
Saturday, February 4, 2017
(10/23/06) gotta make way for the homo superior; drug/panty raid
(Entered in paper journal at 7 PM at home in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
The gas station by Gaiten Academy in Stephen King's Cell. Alice (not Tom) and Clay watch the book woman and the Twinkie man arguing. The book woman and Twinkie man calm down and begin sharing.
A narrator explains that just as the Pulse stripped these people down to the aggressive core only to build up their telepathic abilities, it also stripped them down to help them build up love toward one another.
I hear the narrator say, "KASHWAK = NO-FO was meaningless to all of them. There was no meaning to it, and it gave nobody a reason for panicking."
I considered how the rapid development of these new beings (the "phone crazies") was making them superior to "regular" humans, and how maybe it was actually time for the new humans to arrive and the old humans to pass away.
Dream 2
I was in a huge bathroom in what was something like an office floor full of huge bedrooms. I sat on the edge of a wide bed, the left side, pulling on a pair of work pants. I had my dresser drawer open, and I could see a couple pairs of panties inside one, hidden under some clothes. I thought I should close the drawer quickly before anybody saw.
My co-worker JBS looked in through the window-wall, which was covered in half-closed blinds. He was laughing before I could shut the drawer. I thought he was laughing at my panties. But he was laughing at my pants, the left leg of which had a girls' shirt stuck to it by static cling. I brushed the shirt into an open drawer and closed the drawer right away.
Now JBS and a few other people from work, mostly unknown, but led by CB, stood in my doorway. CB said, "We've secured the right to inspect your room, based on behavior that leads us to believe you were doing drugs."
All the people carried thick binders. I knew this had to do with our job. I wanted a binder, too. So they gave me one. They said they would be back to inspect my room later.
I threw the binder on my bed. I went to my dresser. I panicked and pulled all the panties I could out of my dresser. I knew I didn't do or have drugs, but that my girl clothes would make me stock.
I was putting all my girl clothes in a plastic bag. I was amazed by how many different kinds of panties I had. I thought, I haven't worn these in so long? Why? I took the panties over to the other side of my room, where, presumably, I was throwing them away for good before anyone came into my room.
As I walked to the other side of the room I remembered CB saying (so vividly I could feel it in my ears), "Look what a wreck you've let your place become. Who wouldn't think you're on drugs? There are even wood chips all over your room. How does anybody get wood chips in their room?"
I looked on the right side of my bed and saw the floor slightly scattered with old, grey wood chips. I saw that even my bed had wood chips all over it. I was disgusted with myself.
Dream 1
The gas station by Gaiten Academy in Stephen King's Cell. Alice (not Tom) and Clay watch the book woman and the Twinkie man arguing. The book woman and Twinkie man calm down and begin sharing.
A narrator explains that just as the Pulse stripped these people down to the aggressive core only to build up their telepathic abilities, it also stripped them down to help them build up love toward one another.
I hear the narrator say, "KASHWAK = NO-FO was meaningless to all of them. There was no meaning to it, and it gave nobody a reason for panicking."
I considered how the rapid development of these new beings (the "phone crazies") was making them superior to "regular" humans, and how maybe it was actually time for the new humans to arrive and the old humans to pass away.
Dream 2
I was in a huge bathroom in what was something like an office floor full of huge bedrooms. I sat on the edge of a wide bed, the left side, pulling on a pair of work pants. I had my dresser drawer open, and I could see a couple pairs of panties inside one, hidden under some clothes. I thought I should close the drawer quickly before anybody saw.
My co-worker JBS looked in through the window-wall, which was covered in half-closed blinds. He was laughing before I could shut the drawer. I thought he was laughing at my panties. But he was laughing at my pants, the left leg of which had a girls' shirt stuck to it by static cling. I brushed the shirt into an open drawer and closed the drawer right away.
Now JBS and a few other people from work, mostly unknown, but led by CB, stood in my doorway. CB said, "We've secured the right to inspect your room, based on behavior that leads us to believe you were doing drugs."
All the people carried thick binders. I knew this had to do with our job. I wanted a binder, too. So they gave me one. They said they would be back to inspect my room later.
I threw the binder on my bed. I went to my dresser. I panicked and pulled all the panties I could out of my dresser. I knew I didn't do or have drugs, but that my girl clothes would make me stock.
I was putting all my girl clothes in a plastic bag. I was amazed by how many different kinds of panties I had. I thought, I haven't worn these in so long? Why? I took the panties over to the other side of my room, where, presumably, I was throwing them away for good before anyone came into my room.
As I walked to the other side of the room I remembered CB saying (so vividly I could feel it in my ears), "Look what a wreck you've let your place become. Who wouldn't think you're on drugs? There are even wood chips all over your room. How does anybody get wood chips in their room?"
I looked on the right side of my bed and saw the floor slightly scattered with old, grey wood chips. I saw that even my bed had wood chips all over it. I was disgusted with myself.
(10/27/06) convenience store politeness; your beloved island of san francisco
(No paper journal entry info.)
Dream 1
I was in a convenience store. I acted nice to the guy behind the counter, and he acted nice to me. I got some coffee.
I was at another store. It was almost like the first store but from the front instead of the side (I have no idea what that means). Both stores were dim with a greenish light. I may have been with someone else.
There were two people behind the counter. One -- the younger? -- was about to give me a hard time. But the other said, "No. Leave him alone. Don't you know who he is?" He was polite to me and I was polite to him.
Dream 2
A preview for a movie where Steve Martin is among a community of black workers or slaves. It had a weird setting, as if it were today but way back in the 1700s as well.
The opening scene showed a line of black people walking through a room. The narrator talked about a sad town. Then Steve Martin in his suit -- sport jacket, t-shirt, etc., kind of typical Steve Martin -- was walking in the line. He was the only white person.
I thought, Oh god, not another movie about one smart white person. I kept hoping to see other white people. And I kept hoping that not all of them would be in this "smart guy" kind of role like the Steve Martin character.
In the next scene, a pretty, black girl in a red dress walked down a 1700s-style alley lined with burlap sacks and wooden crates of food with a white man whol looked like an obese version of Rip Torn. The man wore a white suit which was sweaty and dirty with days of continuous use. He carried a sausage on a toothpick and was nibbling away at it while he spoke to the woman, trying to attract her.
I understood somehow (by the narrator?) that the white men had either been trapped here or had come here as partners to make money and weren't quite able to leave yet. Resigned to their fate, the Steve Martin character was trying to do good for the people here, while the Rip Torn character was trying to live a sensual life the best he could, and at least squeeze a few bucks out of this place.
The Rip Torn character said to the girl, who was very modern, "What kind of news do you think it would be if I told you I thought you were adorable?"
The girl said, "What kind of news? Oh, timely, frightening." (As if to say, "Oh, unsurprising, but why would I be with a bear like you?")
I could tell the man was actually making romantic progress with the girl. But I thought over the statement, "Timely, frightening."
I was by myself in an alley in the dark. It was somewhat like the one in the movie -- cobble streets, a clunky, old feeling. I got to a regular asphalt street. Some garbage truck drivers were just driving away.
I was trying to figure out the time period for the movie, and what "timely, frightening" meant. But for some reason (happiness?) I began flying.
It was misty, early morning. I thought I was flying through Harlem -- the buildings looked somehow familiar. I was still in an alley. I would power up high (ten stories?) quickly and soar quickly, feeling a great exhilaration.
I tried to fly above the builiding tops, to see what the roof of my old building looked like. But I got jumbled up somehow and fell back to the ground. I charged straight upward and was almost immediately above the buildings. But now everything was confused and strange, like the buildings were all crowded over one another.
I thought, If I go down a little I'll be able to sort out where I am. I went down, but I couldn't figure out where I was, so I went back up. Finally, having hoped to land on the roof of the building I'd lived in in Harlem in 2004 and 2005, I landed on the nearest roof. It was early, grey morning. The building I'd landed on was part of a complex of buildings. It all felt very structured, but shabby and run down.
A voice (an older, fat man with thick, black beard and thick but balding hair?) said, "Now we're very lost. Now you'll never get off your beloved island of San Francisco."
I thought, San Francisco? That's not where I am.
Somehow I could see off a corner of the building (smaller now, and I sat against a
style window-well that ran into a sloped, blackish metal roof) to my right, to an old lady working in a garden. The garden was full and green, but surrounded by rusty metal like weeds in a junkyard.
Slowly, or, rather, imperceptibly, the woman became younger -- a young wife -- and was joined by a husband and daughter. The window was now part of a nice house in a suburb, and the garden was a plain, old vegetable garden on the side of the house.
I had to find a way to get away. I hoped I could fly, but I knew I had tapped out most of my power. But I couldn't let the family see me -- they would think I was a pervert or a thief spying on them from their roof.
Eventually the garden faded into a garage. The family was inside working on something. While they weren't looking I jumped into a plane tree in the front yard. It was sunny and humid outside, like it had finished raining. The canopy was wet, but was also slimy. I could only stay on the limbs for so long before they would crack with rot and fall to the ground. I had to jump from limb to limb. I had to fly out of the yard before the family saw me, but I felt like I didn't have enough power.
The daughter was telling some story about a song from the 1970s. I was surprised she knew it.
I went ahead and jumped to the edge of the yard, into the next door neighbors' yard. I tried to fly all the way, but I just kind of floated clunkily down. When I hit the ground I tried to boost up into the air. But all I managed was a leap about three feet or so up. I was in the midst of a thick plant like a tomato plant with an occasional "tomato," which would be yellow like a pepper and tough -- like a squash?
The daughter came out of the garage. She cried that she noticed me, that she had noticed me for a long time, and how could I have thought I'd get away with being such a pervert?
Dream 1
I was in a convenience store. I acted nice to the guy behind the counter, and he acted nice to me. I got some coffee.
I was at another store. It was almost like the first store but from the front instead of the side (I have no idea what that means). Both stores were dim with a greenish light. I may have been with someone else.
There were two people behind the counter. One -- the younger? -- was about to give me a hard time. But the other said, "No. Leave him alone. Don't you know who he is?" He was polite to me and I was polite to him.
Dream 2
A preview for a movie where Steve Martin is among a community of black workers or slaves. It had a weird setting, as if it were today but way back in the 1700s as well.
The opening scene showed a line of black people walking through a room. The narrator talked about a sad town. Then Steve Martin in his suit -- sport jacket, t-shirt, etc., kind of typical Steve Martin -- was walking in the line. He was the only white person.
I thought, Oh god, not another movie about one smart white person. I kept hoping to see other white people. And I kept hoping that not all of them would be in this "smart guy" kind of role like the Steve Martin character.
In the next scene, a pretty, black girl in a red dress walked down a 1700s-style alley lined with burlap sacks and wooden crates of food with a white man whol looked like an obese version of Rip Torn. The man wore a white suit which was sweaty and dirty with days of continuous use. He carried a sausage on a toothpick and was nibbling away at it while he spoke to the woman, trying to attract her.
I understood somehow (by the narrator?) that the white men had either been trapped here or had come here as partners to make money and weren't quite able to leave yet. Resigned to their fate, the Steve Martin character was trying to do good for the people here, while the Rip Torn character was trying to live a sensual life the best he could, and at least squeeze a few bucks out of this place.
The Rip Torn character said to the girl, who was very modern, "What kind of news do you think it would be if I told you I thought you were adorable?"
The girl said, "What kind of news? Oh, timely, frightening." (As if to say, "Oh, unsurprising, but why would I be with a bear like you?")
I could tell the man was actually making romantic progress with the girl. But I thought over the statement, "Timely, frightening."
I was by myself in an alley in the dark. It was somewhat like the one in the movie -- cobble streets, a clunky, old feeling. I got to a regular asphalt street. Some garbage truck drivers were just driving away.
I was trying to figure out the time period for the movie, and what "timely, frightening" meant. But for some reason (happiness?) I began flying.
It was misty, early morning. I thought I was flying through Harlem -- the buildings looked somehow familiar. I was still in an alley. I would power up high (ten stories?) quickly and soar quickly, feeling a great exhilaration.
I tried to fly above the builiding tops, to see what the roof of my old building looked like. But I got jumbled up somehow and fell back to the ground. I charged straight upward and was almost immediately above the buildings. But now everything was confused and strange, like the buildings were all crowded over one another.
I thought, If I go down a little I'll be able to sort out where I am. I went down, but I couldn't figure out where I was, so I went back up. Finally, having hoped to land on the roof of the building I'd lived in in Harlem in 2004 and 2005, I landed on the nearest roof. It was early, grey morning. The building I'd landed on was part of a complex of buildings. It all felt very structured, but shabby and run down.
A voice (an older, fat man with thick, black beard and thick but balding hair?) said, "Now we're very lost. Now you'll never get off your beloved island of San Francisco."
I thought, San Francisco? That's not where I am.
Somehow I could see off a corner of the building (smaller now, and I sat against a
style window-well that ran into a sloped, blackish metal roof) to my right, to an old lady working in a garden. The garden was full and green, but surrounded by rusty metal like weeds in a junkyard.
Slowly, or, rather, imperceptibly, the woman became younger -- a young wife -- and was joined by a husband and daughter. The window was now part of a nice house in a suburb, and the garden was a plain, old vegetable garden on the side of the house.
I had to find a way to get away. I hoped I could fly, but I knew I had tapped out most of my power. But I couldn't let the family see me -- they would think I was a pervert or a thief spying on them from their roof.
Eventually the garden faded into a garage. The family was inside working on something. While they weren't looking I jumped into a plane tree in the front yard. It was sunny and humid outside, like it had finished raining. The canopy was wet, but was also slimy. I could only stay on the limbs for so long before they would crack with rot and fall to the ground. I had to jump from limb to limb. I had to fly out of the yard before the family saw me, but I felt like I didn't have enough power.
The daughter was telling some story about a song from the 1970s. I was surprised she knew it.
I went ahead and jumped to the edge of the yard, into the next door neighbors' yard. I tried to fly all the way, but I just kind of floated clunkily down. When I hit the ground I tried to boost up into the air. But all I managed was a leap about three feet or so up. I was in the midst of a thick plant like a tomato plant with an occasional "tomato," which would be yellow like a pepper and tough -- like a squash?
The daughter came out of the garage. She cried that she noticed me, that she had noticed me for a long time, and how could I have thought I'd get away with being such a pervert?
Monday, January 21, 2013
(4/30/08) momentum
(Entered in paper journal at 6:19 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I stood out on a sidewalk at night with a group of people before a long folding table. The table was stacked with meals that we were assigned to take to older, probably housebound, people. I was paired up to deliver a meal with a pretty, blonde girl with long hair.
I bent over the table to grab a meal. I was wearing loose, tan, casual pants like for the summer and pink panties. The pretty girl stood to my right. I bent over so that she could see the waistband of my panties above the waistband of my pants. I hoped the girl would be turned on by the sight.
As we walked away from the table and into a suburban neighborhood (but, possibly, first through a college neighborhood?) I realized the girl might think I was a fool for trying to show off the fact that I was wearing panties.
The girl and I got slightly separated. The areas we had been walking through had been pretty well lit by orange streetlamp. But now things were dim. The sky was also swarming with steely, wiry, grey clouds.
I had gotten ahead of the girl. I now ran back toward her. I saw her standing around the corner at the end of the block, which was at the top of a slight hill.
Somehow I was now running in a different direction. To show the girl I was good or strong (or, simply, not a fool), I began flying. I flew with my stomach only a foot or so above the sidewalk.
I flew under a barren tree like a cherry tree but with the branches more gnarled and spiky and densely spaced. I decided I would loop under, around, above, and back under the tree canopy to show how well I could fly.
But I couldn't quite do it. I couldn't keep my momentum up through the whole loop. I fell down through the canopy once, or maybe even twice. I tried to consider how I would keep up my momentum.
Suddenly I sat up in bed. I must have been in a young boy's bedroom. The lights were on. I was under a blanket that might have had an action cartoon scene on it. To my left were plastic figures, like Star Wars figures, in all different sizes, from maybe two feet tall to the standard action-figure size, i.e. around three inches tall.
I could hear myself having a conversation with my friend R. I got up and walked around the room and into the hallway. I thought I heard R at the front door.
I was going to check through the peephole. But as I walked to the door I was pulled back. R's dog bit some part of me, like the hollow behind my knee or the hollow behind my elbow, and pulled me back toward the bed. I laughed at the dog and probably fell down onto the bed.
Dream #1
I stood out on a sidewalk at night with a group of people before a long folding table. The table was stacked with meals that we were assigned to take to older, probably housebound, people. I was paired up to deliver a meal with a pretty, blonde girl with long hair.
I bent over the table to grab a meal. I was wearing loose, tan, casual pants like for the summer and pink panties. The pretty girl stood to my right. I bent over so that she could see the waistband of my panties above the waistband of my pants. I hoped the girl would be turned on by the sight.
As we walked away from the table and into a suburban neighborhood (but, possibly, first through a college neighborhood?) I realized the girl might think I was a fool for trying to show off the fact that I was wearing panties.
The girl and I got slightly separated. The areas we had been walking through had been pretty well lit by orange streetlamp. But now things were dim. The sky was also swarming with steely, wiry, grey clouds.
I had gotten ahead of the girl. I now ran back toward her. I saw her standing around the corner at the end of the block, which was at the top of a slight hill.
Somehow I was now running in a different direction. To show the girl I was good or strong (or, simply, not a fool), I began flying. I flew with my stomach only a foot or so above the sidewalk.
I flew under a barren tree like a cherry tree but with the branches more gnarled and spiky and densely spaced. I decided I would loop under, around, above, and back under the tree canopy to show how well I could fly.
But I couldn't quite do it. I couldn't keep my momentum up through the whole loop. I fell down through the canopy once, or maybe even twice. I tried to consider how I would keep up my momentum.
Suddenly I sat up in bed. I must have been in a young boy's bedroom. The lights were on. I was under a blanket that might have had an action cartoon scene on it. To my left were plastic figures, like Star Wars figures, in all different sizes, from maybe two feet tall to the standard action-figure size, i.e. around three inches tall.
I could hear myself having a conversation with my friend R. I got up and walked around the room and into the hallway. I thought I heard R at the front door.
I was going to check through the peephole. But as I walked to the door I was pulled back. R's dog bit some part of me, like the hollow behind my knee or the hollow behind my elbow, and pulled me back toward the bed. I laughed at the dog and probably fell down onto the bed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)