(Entered in paper journal at 5:40 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was in a park on a blue, but slightly cloudy, day. I was at the rounded top of a hill the lawn of which was slightly worn to dust. I was trimming a strange plant. Its stalk-part was bloated out and rubbery and green. It was maybe three or four feet in width and height. The top was like a big bouquet of roses. But the flowers were about twice as big as roses, and they were all dry. There were two other plants like this on the hill.
I had been told to trim these plants. They were weeds. By trimming them away piece by piece you would sap their energy until they finally died. But, I thought, these are summer weeds. As soon as it got cold (which would happen very soon), the plants' green parts would dry up. Then we could just dig down to the roots of the plant and pull the thing out whole.
TO, a person who led a volunteer project that I now led in waking life, walked up to me. I explained (as if by thought/feeling) my idea. TO "interrupted," laughed, and said, "No, it's more sensible to do it the way we're doing it."
We were finished for the day. TO was gone again. I walked away. I was in a college campus area. It seemed like late afternoon, dimmish, pale blue-grey light. There were some people milling around on a concrete courtyard. I didn't quite feel like I belonged. I felt like people were looking at me weird, that they might think of doing something bad to me to show me I didn't belong here.
Suddenly I remembered I h'd left my book bag over where I had been working. I was panicked. I started running back to the hill. But I also thought, Surely the bag's been stolen by now.
Showing posts with label colleague TO. Show all posts
Showing posts with label colleague TO. Show all posts
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Friday, February 1, 2013
(12/7/07) panties for a jealous boyfriend; emotional goodbyes
(Entered in paper journal at 5:05 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I had come into a building to lead a volunteer event. A woman had brought her boyfriend, out of compulsion. The boyfriend was trying to prove that I was either trying to steal his girlfriend, make his girlfriend feel stupid, or expose him personally for some illegal activity. I had agreed to go off somewhere with the guy while the woman did the event -- to prove that I wanted nothing other than for the woman to do the event.
I was in the boyfriend's and girlfriend's apartment bedroom. There were four beds. The boyfriend lay on one and I lay on another. We both lay so our heads were at the feet of the beds. The boy was black, but he may have had his face painted bright white with cracked, caked paint.
I asked the boy what he did as a job. He squirmed off the bed impatiently and sat on the floor. He said, "I'm tired of you always asking questions. What about you? Why are you doing this event?"
I sat on my knees on the bed. The room had been dim, as if it were sunny outside, but as if the curtains had been blocking the sunlight. Now the room was light with incandescent light, and it was as if there were no windows in the room.
I told the boy my personal story. I was about to finish by telling the boy that I worked at New York Cares (I volunteered, but never worked, there in waking life). But I didn't want the boy knowing too much about my life and following me all over the place. So I just told the boy I did volunteer work.
There was now a woman in the room, a roommate to the girl and boy. The boyfriend had often had sex with this girl behind the girlfriend's back.
The boy decided I was fine to go. We were all getting ready to go back to the event. It was like I was getting out of bed. I wore a blue polo shirt and no pants. I wore pink, satin panties. The woman wore similar clothing. I didn't want the boyfriend to see my panties and think I was gay. But I still did, for some reason, want to show off my panties.
I hurried to get my regular clothes, which were by the back wall, piled on top of a duffle bag. As I got them I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror. I may have looked like an Hispanic woman. My bottom was huge, misshapen, and flabby. I was disgusted with myself. I bent down to pick up my boy clothes, which were possibly black slacks, a dark grey, button-up shirt, and a tie.
Dream #2
I walked up to the door of the office of my co-worker RJ. The door was only half open. I thought that RJ was leaving our company. She was busy, but I wanted to tell her goodbye. I poked my head into RJ's office. RJ was typing.
I said, "RJ, I know you're busy. But I just want to say I was happy to know you, and I wish you the best of luck."
RJ looked up at me and giggled a little. She said, "Uh... okay," as if she had no idea what I was talking about. She looked at a woman who sat behind the door and whom I couldn't see. I could tell they were both acting serious, but that they would be laughing at me soon.
I backed out of the office, feeling foolish, and walked into the next office. Through the walls I could hear RJ say, "Why did he just say that? Why did he act so sad? I'm only going away for a few days."
I now stood on a small bridge over a wide river. It was snowing heavily. Clouds gathered thick over the water, obscuring my view of the left bank as I walked to the right. The water looked almost black. The clouds were reddish pink, possibly from streetlamps of towns on the banks. The bridge was of white stone and done in a classical style, like one of the short bridges between Boston and Cambridge.
In my head I heard a conversation "I'd had" with TO, a person who'd led a volunteer project with New York Cares that I now led. In the conversation I told TO, "I just thought I'd check in, see how things were going."
TO said, "They're fine. What would you need? Do you need me to help you somehow at the park?" TO's voice was sharp. He sounded upset and inconvenienced.
I said, "No. I was just calling to check in and let you know I was still thinking about you. After all, you are my mentor."
TO laughed and said, "Mentor? How do you figure that?"
I looked at a piece of paper for a moment. On it was written dialogue similar to this.
I now saw an old, black, 1940s-style car drive off a short bank and into a river during the daytime. The bed of the river appeared to be shallow and gravely, but the car sunk right down, all the way into the gravel. I thought, That's how it happens: first you go deep into the water. Then you go deep into the mud. The water fills up the car first. And then the mud fills up the car.
After I thought this I saw from the inside of the car. It was now like the car had fallen into the river I stood over on the bridge at night. The car kept falling deeper and deeper into the dark blue-green water, as if it had fallen into a whale's ocean.
In the backseat of the car were a young boy -- possibly Asian -- with whom I identified, and two Asian men, who sat to the young boy's left. The man in the center wore thin-rimmed eyeglasses. Both men were dressed and groomed very well.
The water had filled up the car. Now I saw traces of mud curling up through the water. But suddenly there was no water in the car. I thought that the passengers would run out of air and die of suffocation. The older men were dying first, since the young boy was smaller and needed less oxygen.
The men were in a state of delirium. At first they were panicked. Then they acted drunk. Now they were calm and still.
The man on the far left said, "It's cold, so cold here."
The man in the center said, "We'll come back here on November fifth."
The man on the left agreed and spoke in slurred speech. Both men began talking in a mix of an Asian language and some other language, very slurred.
I thought, Why can't these men regain their composure around a child? Aren't they worried about panicking the child?
But the child was the first to notice that the car was moving back up, as if something were rescuing it. The child didn't want to stir the men up too much, so he didn't say anything.
There was some turbulence as the car lifted further up and up. Then there was a huge amount of turbulence, which finally got the men's attention.
Now, out of the windows, we saw a submarine. It sat on the floor of the ocean. The captain (?) stood halfway out of the hatch. He wore a grey uniform. He was old, strong, with blue eyes, white hair, and a white mustache. He held a black book like a Bible in his hand.
We floated around the submarine, as if we were actually driving the car around underwater. I thought, We've finally been rescued! But then I thought this didn't make sense. I thought, How can the captain be standing out of the hatch underwater as if he were in open air? And how can we see everything as if there were spotlights all around us?
Dream #1
I had come into a building to lead a volunteer event. A woman had brought her boyfriend, out of compulsion. The boyfriend was trying to prove that I was either trying to steal his girlfriend, make his girlfriend feel stupid, or expose him personally for some illegal activity. I had agreed to go off somewhere with the guy while the woman did the event -- to prove that I wanted nothing other than for the woman to do the event.
I was in the boyfriend's and girlfriend's apartment bedroom. There were four beds. The boyfriend lay on one and I lay on another. We both lay so our heads were at the feet of the beds. The boy was black, but he may have had his face painted bright white with cracked, caked paint.
I asked the boy what he did as a job. He squirmed off the bed impatiently and sat on the floor. He said, "I'm tired of you always asking questions. What about you? Why are you doing this event?"
I sat on my knees on the bed. The room had been dim, as if it were sunny outside, but as if the curtains had been blocking the sunlight. Now the room was light with incandescent light, and it was as if there were no windows in the room.
I told the boy my personal story. I was about to finish by telling the boy that I worked at New York Cares (I volunteered, but never worked, there in waking life). But I didn't want the boy knowing too much about my life and following me all over the place. So I just told the boy I did volunteer work.
There was now a woman in the room, a roommate to the girl and boy. The boyfriend had often had sex with this girl behind the girlfriend's back.
The boy decided I was fine to go. We were all getting ready to go back to the event. It was like I was getting out of bed. I wore a blue polo shirt and no pants. I wore pink, satin panties. The woman wore similar clothing. I didn't want the boyfriend to see my panties and think I was gay. But I still did, for some reason, want to show off my panties.
I hurried to get my regular clothes, which were by the back wall, piled on top of a duffle bag. As I got them I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror. I may have looked like an Hispanic woman. My bottom was huge, misshapen, and flabby. I was disgusted with myself. I bent down to pick up my boy clothes, which were possibly black slacks, a dark grey, button-up shirt, and a tie.
Dream #2
I walked up to the door of the office of my co-worker RJ. The door was only half open. I thought that RJ was leaving our company. She was busy, but I wanted to tell her goodbye. I poked my head into RJ's office. RJ was typing.
I said, "RJ, I know you're busy. But I just want to say I was happy to know you, and I wish you the best of luck."
RJ looked up at me and giggled a little. She said, "Uh... okay," as if she had no idea what I was talking about. She looked at a woman who sat behind the door and whom I couldn't see. I could tell they were both acting serious, but that they would be laughing at me soon.
I backed out of the office, feeling foolish, and walked into the next office. Through the walls I could hear RJ say, "Why did he just say that? Why did he act so sad? I'm only going away for a few days."
I now stood on a small bridge over a wide river. It was snowing heavily. Clouds gathered thick over the water, obscuring my view of the left bank as I walked to the right. The water looked almost black. The clouds were reddish pink, possibly from streetlamps of towns on the banks. The bridge was of white stone and done in a classical style, like one of the short bridges between Boston and Cambridge.
In my head I heard a conversation "I'd had" with TO, a person who'd led a volunteer project with New York Cares that I now led. In the conversation I told TO, "I just thought I'd check in, see how things were going."
TO said, "They're fine. What would you need? Do you need me to help you somehow at the park?" TO's voice was sharp. He sounded upset and inconvenienced.
I said, "No. I was just calling to check in and let you know I was still thinking about you. After all, you are my mentor."
TO laughed and said, "Mentor? How do you figure that?"
I looked at a piece of paper for a moment. On it was written dialogue similar to this.
I now saw an old, black, 1940s-style car drive off a short bank and into a river during the daytime. The bed of the river appeared to be shallow and gravely, but the car sunk right down, all the way into the gravel. I thought, That's how it happens: first you go deep into the water. Then you go deep into the mud. The water fills up the car first. And then the mud fills up the car.
After I thought this I saw from the inside of the car. It was now like the car had fallen into the river I stood over on the bridge at night. The car kept falling deeper and deeper into the dark blue-green water, as if it had fallen into a whale's ocean.
In the backseat of the car were a young boy -- possibly Asian -- with whom I identified, and two Asian men, who sat to the young boy's left. The man in the center wore thin-rimmed eyeglasses. Both men were dressed and groomed very well.
The water had filled up the car. Now I saw traces of mud curling up through the water. But suddenly there was no water in the car. I thought that the passengers would run out of air and die of suffocation. The older men were dying first, since the young boy was smaller and needed less oxygen.
The men were in a state of delirium. At first they were panicked. Then they acted drunk. Now they were calm and still.
The man on the far left said, "It's cold, so cold here."
The man in the center said, "We'll come back here on November fifth."
The man on the left agreed and spoke in slurred speech. Both men began talking in a mix of an Asian language and some other language, very slurred.
I thought, Why can't these men regain their composure around a child? Aren't they worried about panicking the child?
But the child was the first to notice that the car was moving back up, as if something were rescuing it. The child didn't want to stir the men up too much, so he didn't say anything.
There was some turbulence as the car lifted further up and up. Then there was a huge amount of turbulence, which finally got the men's attention.
Now, out of the windows, we saw a submarine. It sat on the floor of the ocean. The captain (?) stood halfway out of the hatch. He wore a grey uniform. He was old, strong, with blue eyes, white hair, and a white mustache. He held a black book like a Bible in his hand.
We floated around the submarine, as if we were actually driving the car around underwater. I thought, We've finally been rescued! But then I thought this didn't make sense. I thought, How can the captain be standing out of the hatch underwater as if he were in open air? And how can we see everything as if there were spotlights all around us?
Sunday, January 13, 2013
(7/14/08) none of them survived
(Entered in paper journal at 6:10 AM on 2-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was in a foresty area, like a summer camp or a retreat, with a group of people around my age. I was in one of the camp buildings, a stone and wood shelter made to look like a miniature castle, with at least one woman. We were doing something like fixing a barbecue.
The stone shelter was at the top of a steep hill that was maybe one hundred feet tall and green with trees. Another hill similar to this hill, facing this hill, had a similar stone structure at its peak. Our group leader, who looked like TO (the previous team leader for a New York Cares volunteer project for which I, in waking life, had assumed the leadership position about ten months previous to this dream), was in that stone structure.
I had a question about something, maybe the food I was cooking. I spoke very softly, questioning the leader, more as if I were pretending he could hear me than actually expecting him to hear me. But then I heard the leader answer, in the same kind of soft voice. It now seemed natural that the leader could hear me. It also seemed silly that I would have asked such an immature question of the leader, as if I had only been asking a question in order to get the leader's attention.
I stood near a small cabin in a lawny area that was more like a park than a forest. There was a woman with me. We stood before three eggs that were about to hatch. The woman bit the shell of the eggs. The eggs were like hard-boiled eggs. The woman would peel off the egg whites, and the birds would pop out. All three birds were female.
But there were also three male-bird eggs somewhere. We knew those eggs may have been rejected by the mother, and that they probably hadn't developed or survived. But, still, despite the fact that they were almost certainly already dead, I went looking for them.
The eggs seemed to be nearby at first, in a little circle cleared out among some tall grass. I went up to them, apparently having found them.
I was suddenly on a field like a soccer field. It was a golden day with a blue sky. Some sports team stood or ran around near me. They may have been wearing red soccer uniforms.
I wanted to test the eggs to see if they were ready. But I was too afraid I'd mess up and kill the birds. But now the group leader, a tall man, white, tanned, strong, wiry looking, bald, wearing all black clothes and blue-mirror sunglasses, came up to show me how to test the eggs.
The leader kicked two of the eggs. They skip-rolled a few feet away and then splattered open in a mess of liquid, though also with a feeling of hollowness and delicateness.
The leader was a little upset. He picked up the third egg and bit it. The shell scrapped open. A bunch of clear fluid spilled out. The leader said, "Damn it! None of them survived!"
Dream #1
I was in a foresty area, like a summer camp or a retreat, with a group of people around my age. I was in one of the camp buildings, a stone and wood shelter made to look like a miniature castle, with at least one woman. We were doing something like fixing a barbecue.
The stone shelter was at the top of a steep hill that was maybe one hundred feet tall and green with trees. Another hill similar to this hill, facing this hill, had a similar stone structure at its peak. Our group leader, who looked like TO (the previous team leader for a New York Cares volunteer project for which I, in waking life, had assumed the leadership position about ten months previous to this dream), was in that stone structure.
I had a question about something, maybe the food I was cooking. I spoke very softly, questioning the leader, more as if I were pretending he could hear me than actually expecting him to hear me. But then I heard the leader answer, in the same kind of soft voice. It now seemed natural that the leader could hear me. It also seemed silly that I would have asked such an immature question of the leader, as if I had only been asking a question in order to get the leader's attention.
I stood near a small cabin in a lawny area that was more like a park than a forest. There was a woman with me. We stood before three eggs that were about to hatch. The woman bit the shell of the eggs. The eggs were like hard-boiled eggs. The woman would peel off the egg whites, and the birds would pop out. All three birds were female.
But there were also three male-bird eggs somewhere. We knew those eggs may have been rejected by the mother, and that they probably hadn't developed or survived. But, still, despite the fact that they were almost certainly already dead, I went looking for them.
The eggs seemed to be nearby at first, in a little circle cleared out among some tall grass. I went up to them, apparently having found them.
I was suddenly on a field like a soccer field. It was a golden day with a blue sky. Some sports team stood or ran around near me. They may have been wearing red soccer uniforms.
I wanted to test the eggs to see if they were ready. But I was too afraid I'd mess up and kill the birds. But now the group leader, a tall man, white, tanned, strong, wiry looking, bald, wearing all black clothes and blue-mirror sunglasses, came up to show me how to test the eggs.
The leader kicked two of the eggs. They skip-rolled a few feet away and then splattered open in a mess of liquid, though also with a feeling of hollowness and delicateness.
The leader was a little upset. He picked up the third egg and bit it. The shell scrapped open. A bunch of clear fluid spilled out. The leader said, "Damn it! None of them survived!"
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