(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.
Showing posts with label harassment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label harassment. Show all posts
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Saturday, November 10, 2012
(1/1/10) rite of passage of harassment; payday uncertain
(Entered in paper journal at 9:20 AM at Sit & Wonder cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I stood before the front desk at a public school. The school was probably large, although the hallway was smallish, probably walled with cinder blocks fronted by sea-green porcelain.
Two people sat at the desk-booth, which was to my right. The two people were separated by a dividing wall, like might be seen on old-style, long desks for a number of people. The light in the small, office-like area behind them was yellowy incandescent. The person nearer me was a white man, middle-aged, balding, wearing drab clothes and black-rimmed eyeglasses. He was possibly doing some paperwork.
I was at the school for a specific reason, to do a presentation or to sign something. But the man at the desk was really putting me through the ringer, somehow, to get in. Finally I had proven to him who I was, and he let me pass.
But now it was like I had to prove it all over again. It was like I had left and come back, so that I'd have to show my identification all over again. But I hadn't left at all.
To the man's right, beyond the barrier, was an older Latina woman, shortish, a little overweight, with short, red hair. As I stood in front of her, I changed from myself into a somewhat professional looking, Indian man with darkish skin, a little bit of stubble, and shortish, tousled hair. Instead of wearing "my suit," I now wore a very large, orange sweater, the collar of which went up over my lower face like and uncuffed turtleneck.
The woman at the desk knew I was worried about having to deal with the man again. She called to me, "Hey, XXXXX," (can't remember the name). "What are you doing just standing there? Aren't you supposed to be in class? Get moving."
I knew that the woman knew I looked like one of the students, especially with the turtleneck's collar pulled up over my face. The woman knew that if she made a big, scolding-sounding fuss telling me to get back into the classroom, the man would just assume I was who the woman said I was and leave me alone.
So I hurried on through the hallway, past the front desk. The hallway was empty, as if everyone were in class. I couldn't remember where I was headed. I kept walking, thinking that once I saw the correct classroom I'd know I was supposed to be there. I turned left down another hallway. I stood before a classroom on the right side of the hallway. I wasn't sure this was the right classroom. But I was still about to go in.
I now stood outside a building. I was walking up to the front door. I had left my book bag in front of the door. The building was big, made out of some white, stone-like material, and shaped in a nondescript way, broken with columns of black windows. The building was kind of like a 1990s church, somehow.
It was afternoon, and the sky was silver-blue, with tinges of pink nearer the horizon. There were a few people somewhere around near the front entrance of the building. The front entrance was of dark glass, and it may have protruded from the front of the building slightly.
I walked down the sidewalk from the right side and approached the door. I saw that my bag had been knocked over. My old female friend Y may have been standing before or approaching my bag. My bag was blue, thickly padded, like an insulated cooler bag or a diaper bag, but shaped like a business-style book bag.
I saw that my headphones had partly fallen out of the unzipped top of the bag. The headphones were of a clear, blue plastic. I now stood before the bag and Y. I picked up the bag. I was here for a specific reason, and I had to prove it to somebody right before the door. Y and I got in.
From behind us, a couple of older, kind of lower class people walked up. A woman in the little group said something like, "Those were nice looking headphones! I don't know why I didn't snatch them as soon as I saw them lying there."
I could tell the woman had said that to taunt me, make me feel unsafe, as if she could steal whatever she wanted from me. But I ignored her. It had occurred to me that I knew the woman. She was somehow related to me. She was possibly my brother-in-law's mother or aunt. She was, I knew, the kind of person who liked stirring up trouble and messing things up for people.
Y and I passed into the building. The lobby was a lot like the lobby before the sanctuary in a church. Y and I turned right and walked down a hallway as large as an airport concourse. In the middle of the hallway lay a long, boxlike object. The object may have been black. It was "opened" or slightly "disassembled," and something about its slightly cluttered nature made me feel uneasy and annoyed.
I was here to do something like give a presentation. I thought that would impress Y. But, first the woman and now the weird, cluttered box were eroding the air of authoritative composure I was trying to project to Y. I was also having trouble carrying my (now) suitcase. I kept scratching it against the side of the long box, as if either I just couldn't balance myself or the suitcase itself was drawn to the long box.
The mean woman came up behind Y and me again. She called out something like, "You know who I am! He pretends like he doesn't know me! But if you keep on pretending like you don't know me, I'll get you in trouble. We'll see if you like that!"
I thought for a moment that I would turn and talk with the woman for a moment to appease her.
Dream #2
I stood before a desk in the front office at work. My co-worker EH sat behind the reception desk. She said she had gotten a huge package, which had been addressed to me. I knew it was the package that had my paycheck in it.
I let EH open it, since I knew that not everything in it was mine. EH shuffled through a lot of envelopes that probably held other checks. EH handed me my check.
I saw, in the pile of checks scattered all over EH's lap, that the little opening strip which had been on the box was still sprawled out among the envelopes. Something about that made me feel like things weren't quite right yet.
Dream #1
I stood before the front desk at a public school. The school was probably large, although the hallway was smallish, probably walled with cinder blocks fronted by sea-green porcelain.
Two people sat at the desk-booth, which was to my right. The two people were separated by a dividing wall, like might be seen on old-style, long desks for a number of people. The light in the small, office-like area behind them was yellowy incandescent. The person nearer me was a white man, middle-aged, balding, wearing drab clothes and black-rimmed eyeglasses. He was possibly doing some paperwork.
I was at the school for a specific reason, to do a presentation or to sign something. But the man at the desk was really putting me through the ringer, somehow, to get in. Finally I had proven to him who I was, and he let me pass.
But now it was like I had to prove it all over again. It was like I had left and come back, so that I'd have to show my identification all over again. But I hadn't left at all.
To the man's right, beyond the barrier, was an older Latina woman, shortish, a little overweight, with short, red hair. As I stood in front of her, I changed from myself into a somewhat professional looking, Indian man with darkish skin, a little bit of stubble, and shortish, tousled hair. Instead of wearing "my suit," I now wore a very large, orange sweater, the collar of which went up over my lower face like and uncuffed turtleneck.
The woman at the desk knew I was worried about having to deal with the man again. She called to me, "Hey, XXXXX," (can't remember the name). "What are you doing just standing there? Aren't you supposed to be in class? Get moving."
I knew that the woman knew I looked like one of the students, especially with the turtleneck's collar pulled up over my face. The woman knew that if she made a big, scolding-sounding fuss telling me to get back into the classroom, the man would just assume I was who the woman said I was and leave me alone.
So I hurried on through the hallway, past the front desk. The hallway was empty, as if everyone were in class. I couldn't remember where I was headed. I kept walking, thinking that once I saw the correct classroom I'd know I was supposed to be there. I turned left down another hallway. I stood before a classroom on the right side of the hallway. I wasn't sure this was the right classroom. But I was still about to go in.
I now stood outside a building. I was walking up to the front door. I had left my book bag in front of the door. The building was big, made out of some white, stone-like material, and shaped in a nondescript way, broken with columns of black windows. The building was kind of like a 1990s church, somehow.
It was afternoon, and the sky was silver-blue, with tinges of pink nearer the horizon. There were a few people somewhere around near the front entrance of the building. The front entrance was of dark glass, and it may have protruded from the front of the building slightly.
I walked down the sidewalk from the right side and approached the door. I saw that my bag had been knocked over. My old female friend Y may have been standing before or approaching my bag. My bag was blue, thickly padded, like an insulated cooler bag or a diaper bag, but shaped like a business-style book bag.
I saw that my headphones had partly fallen out of the unzipped top of the bag. The headphones were of a clear, blue plastic. I now stood before the bag and Y. I picked up the bag. I was here for a specific reason, and I had to prove it to somebody right before the door. Y and I got in.
From behind us, a couple of older, kind of lower class people walked up. A woman in the little group said something like, "Those were nice looking headphones! I don't know why I didn't snatch them as soon as I saw them lying there."
I could tell the woman had said that to taunt me, make me feel unsafe, as if she could steal whatever she wanted from me. But I ignored her. It had occurred to me that I knew the woman. She was somehow related to me. She was possibly my brother-in-law's mother or aunt. She was, I knew, the kind of person who liked stirring up trouble and messing things up for people.
Y and I passed into the building. The lobby was a lot like the lobby before the sanctuary in a church. Y and I turned right and walked down a hallway as large as an airport concourse. In the middle of the hallway lay a long, boxlike object. The object may have been black. It was "opened" or slightly "disassembled," and something about its slightly cluttered nature made me feel uneasy and annoyed.
I was here to do something like give a presentation. I thought that would impress Y. But, first the woman and now the weird, cluttered box were eroding the air of authoritative composure I was trying to project to Y. I was also having trouble carrying my (now) suitcase. I kept scratching it against the side of the long box, as if either I just couldn't balance myself or the suitcase itself was drawn to the long box.
The mean woman came up behind Y and me again. She called out something like, "You know who I am! He pretends like he doesn't know me! But if you keep on pretending like you don't know me, I'll get you in trouble. We'll see if you like that!"
I thought for a moment that I would turn and talk with the woman for a moment to appease her.
Dream #2
I stood before a desk in the front office at work. My co-worker EH sat behind the reception desk. She said she had gotten a huge package, which had been addressed to me. I knew it was the package that had my paycheck in it.
I let EH open it, since I knew that not everything in it was mine. EH shuffled through a lot of envelopes that probably held other checks. EH handed me my check.
I saw, in the pile of checks scattered all over EH's lap, that the little opening strip which had been on the box was still sprawled out among the envelopes. Something about that made me feel like things weren't quite right yet.
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