(Entered in paper journal at 5:40 AM at home in Harlem.)
Dream 1
I was in a very messy bedroom with one regular bed and one bunk bed. Either it was a bright, sunny day or the room was full of incandescent light. I was either eating or fixing dinner. I had a Tupperware container of red beans near me. There may have been a cluttered wooden bench (on which the container may have been laid) between the two beds.
The messiness of the room disturbed my appetite. I thought of cleaning the room. A woman, Hispanic or East Indian, interrupted me and demanded I clean the room as the (three?) other beds in this room were soon to be occupied. I hadn't cleaned the room because the junk in it all belonged to my roommates. But now I had to make my (landlady?) happy.
I looked at my beans for a second. I told the landlady it would take me a few minutes to get everything cleaned. Gently she said, "I'll give you fifteen minutes because you have to clean the fridge, too. The fridge is full of food." She walked out quickly.
I sat still, wanting to call after her. The fridge was full, but full of food my roommates had left behind. They had never left me any space in the fridge.
Showing posts with label landlady. Show all posts
Showing posts with label landlady. Show all posts
Sunday, March 5, 2017
(6/14/05) expensive breakfast cocktails; transvestite eviction greeting card
(Entered in paper journal at 6 AM at home in Harlem.)
Dream 1
Something strange had happened at work, like work had been canceled, or like we had our work changed from one type of work to another. Some guy had given us a speech about how things had changed. Now everybody cleared out.
I sat on a hillside with my crewmate and friend KB. We looked down on some "main street" and a little bar there. She asked if I wanted to go there for breakfast. I said sure.
I was now wandering through some spot of town far down the road. It took me a minute to realize I wasn't supposed to be there.
I was now at the bar, sitting with KB and some man, maybe my friend ML, maybe a well-put-together man like a doctor or a Ph.D. candidate.
We sat below a sign displaying a list of drinks the bar served for breakfast. I didn't want to order anything. It was all too expensive. But I didn't want to look like a cheapskate, either. The sign was huge and had two sides. I read both sides and finally found one drink I could afford. But even then I didn't want to order. It just seemed like too much money.
Dream 2
I had moved into a rented room-type place. My brother had as well. Our landlady came in to look at the place. We left. We came back. The place had been dirty before. Now it was clean. I knew my landlady had looked through my dresser drawers.
My brother had gotten kicked out. But I looked in the drawer, where my girl clothes were, and saw a letter for me to leave, too. It was in magic marker and signed in different colors by all kinds of different people, all of whom were in my landlady's family. It was almost like a "thank you" or "we'll miss you" card.
Dream 1
Something strange had happened at work, like work had been canceled, or like we had our work changed from one type of work to another. Some guy had given us a speech about how things had changed. Now everybody cleared out.
I sat on a hillside with my crewmate and friend KB. We looked down on some "main street" and a little bar there. She asked if I wanted to go there for breakfast. I said sure.
I was now wandering through some spot of town far down the road. It took me a minute to realize I wasn't supposed to be there.
I was now at the bar, sitting with KB and some man, maybe my friend ML, maybe a well-put-together man like a doctor or a Ph.D. candidate.
We sat below a sign displaying a list of drinks the bar served for breakfast. I didn't want to order anything. It was all too expensive. But I didn't want to look like a cheapskate, either. The sign was huge and had two sides. I read both sides and finally found one drink I could afford. But even then I didn't want to order. It just seemed like too much money.
Dream 2
I had moved into a rented room-type place. My brother had as well. Our landlady came in to look at the place. We left. We came back. The place had been dirty before. Now it was clean. I knew my landlady had looked through my dresser drawers.
My brother had gotten kicked out. But I looked in the drawer, where my girl clothes were, and saw a letter for me to leave, too. It was in magic marker and signed in different colors by all kinds of different people, all of whom were in my landlady's family. It was almost like a "thank you" or "we'll miss you" card.
Sunday, February 12, 2017
(9/2/06) cards for the prisoners; hard time backing in; not quite six countries; friend in cafe; my landlady's garden
(Entered in paper journal on ??? train from Utica to Grand Army Plaza.)
Dream 1
I walked into a room like in a prison with a man who was showing me my new job. There was a two-step process regarding giving inmates identity cards.
Part of the way through the talk the man left. A prisoner was in the room with me. He was a rather calm, white person. This was my last day here. The prisoner said something like, "My card has already been XXXXX. Now it only needs to be verified."
The prisoner asked me about my card. I realized that I was a prisoner, too. I tried to figure out how I could have a job dealing out the cards while also being a prisoner.
I went to the door my instructor had gone through. It was either a thick, purple, metal door or a thick, wooden door. I couldn't open it, but it slid right open for the prisoner.
I called to my instructor, "I've learned how to XXXXX the card, but not how to verify it."
The door slid closed. The room, which had beefore been something ilke a hospital waiting room, was now floored with grimy, black cobbles. There was a grimy, black, concrete bench in the center of the room. Someone kept saying something about Red Square, like this place itself was Red Square.
Dream 2
I was in a car on a suburban street on a sunny day. The road curved around a wide circle of lawn. An Asian man, my teacher, got out of the car and told me, "Let's see how you drive. Back into that driveway."
The man got out. I switched seats. I pulled back into a steep driveway while the Asian man talked with someone. But somehow I almost messed up. The Asian man got back in the car, somewhat disappointed in me.
Dream 3
I knelt outside over dirt like in a dirt parking lot in the dark. My boss BS knelt beside me. I wrote in the "dirt" -- actually on a dusty wood pane like the surface of the door. I wrote country names and told BS, "In just the course of one day I've been to all six of these countries."
I had a lot of countries written down, but it "wasn't quite six." I looked closer to see that I'd even repeated some of the countries, such as the United States, Canada, and Mexico.
Dream 4
I sat on the floor of a cafe, brooding over some paragraphs from Charles Fort's Book of the Damned. The whole cafe was very nice, but old, with a lot of stuff made of wood.
I noticed a presence behind me. It was my old friend ML (in kind of baggy clothes, maybe a green jacket). He saw on the edge of a nice wood chair. I knew ML saw and was impressed by my deep concentration on my book. We stood up and walked away, talking about something.
Dream 5
I worked for UG, the landlady of the first place I'd lived in in Brooklyn. I was gardening a huge yard before a squarish, white house. I had left after admiring the garden but now I came back. I felt bad. I didn't want UG to feel I was trying to take her garden.
But I believe my mom wanted me to ask UG for something. I was about to walk up the steps to the house. But I stopped. I looked out at the beautiful, enormous garden at the ends of the large, pristine lawn. The day was sunny and misty, so everything seemed to sparkle like diamonds.
UG opened her door and came down her stairs. She stood on my left and pointed out the cloudy purples and dotty oranges from the flowers in the garden, telling me that her ability to garden had lessened over the years, but that she could still create very beautiful landscapes.
UG told me one key feature, the most complex, of the garden -- something to do with the "azaleas," which were smallish, narrow, holly-like shrubs with orange-pink flowers, which were near an iron fence.
Dream 1
I walked into a room like in a prison with a man who was showing me my new job. There was a two-step process regarding giving inmates identity cards.
Part of the way through the talk the man left. A prisoner was in the room with me. He was a rather calm, white person. This was my last day here. The prisoner said something like, "My card has already been XXXXX. Now it only needs to be verified."
The prisoner asked me about my card. I realized that I was a prisoner, too. I tried to figure out how I could have a job dealing out the cards while also being a prisoner.
I went to the door my instructor had gone through. It was either a thick, purple, metal door or a thick, wooden door. I couldn't open it, but it slid right open for the prisoner.
I called to my instructor, "I've learned how to XXXXX the card, but not how to verify it."
The door slid closed. The room, which had beefore been something ilke a hospital waiting room, was now floored with grimy, black cobbles. There was a grimy, black, concrete bench in the center of the room. Someone kept saying something about Red Square, like this place itself was Red Square.
Dream 2
I was in a car on a suburban street on a sunny day. The road curved around a wide circle of lawn. An Asian man, my teacher, got out of the car and told me, "Let's see how you drive. Back into that driveway."
The man got out. I switched seats. I pulled back into a steep driveway while the Asian man talked with someone. But somehow I almost messed up. The Asian man got back in the car, somewhat disappointed in me.
Dream 3
I knelt outside over dirt like in a dirt parking lot in the dark. My boss BS knelt beside me. I wrote in the "dirt" -- actually on a dusty wood pane like the surface of the door. I wrote country names and told BS, "In just the course of one day I've been to all six of these countries."
I had a lot of countries written down, but it "wasn't quite six." I looked closer to see that I'd even repeated some of the countries, such as the United States, Canada, and Mexico.
Dream 4
I sat on the floor of a cafe, brooding over some paragraphs from Charles Fort's Book of the Damned. The whole cafe was very nice, but old, with a lot of stuff made of wood.
I noticed a presence behind me. It was my old friend ML (in kind of baggy clothes, maybe a green jacket). He saw on the edge of a nice wood chair. I knew ML saw and was impressed by my deep concentration on my book. We stood up and walked away, talking about something.
Dream 5
I worked for UG, the landlady of the first place I'd lived in in Brooklyn. I was gardening a huge yard before a squarish, white house. I had left after admiring the garden but now I came back. I felt bad. I didn't want UG to feel I was trying to take her garden.
But I believe my mom wanted me to ask UG for something. I was about to walk up the steps to the house. But I stopped. I looked out at the beautiful, enormous garden at the ends of the large, pristine lawn. The day was sunny and misty, so everything seemed to sparkle like diamonds.
UG opened her door and came down her stairs. She stood on my left and pointed out the cloudy purples and dotty oranges from the flowers in the garden, telling me that her ability to garden had lessened over the years, but that she could still create very beautiful landscapes.
UG told me one key feature, the most complex, of the garden -- something to do with the "azaleas," which were smallish, narrow, holly-like shrubs with orange-pink flowers, which were near an iron fence.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
(1/3/08) telekinetic lights
(Entered in paper journal at 6:30 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was in the basement apartment of a house. It must have been late afternoon. I was writing, kneeling over a bed or couch that was lit by the grey light of a window above me. The bed/couch was cluttered with all kinds of things.
I sat my pen down. I motioned at the pen, but didn't touch it. The pen flew against the back of the (couch?). I was amazed that I could do something like that. It seemed like telekinesis.
I lifted up my hand. The pen stood, again without my touching it. I dropped my hand. The pen fell. I lifted up my hand and thought for the pen to come to me. It flew into my hand.
A woman like my psychiatrist A, with big, dark glasses, was looking in through the window. I thought she was spying on me and would report me if she knew I was practicing telekinesis. When I caught A's face in the window, A hurried away, toward a fence, keeping her back to me, and trying not to look suspicious.
Hoping to cover my trail, I now tried to act like I hadn't been performing any telekinesis.
Suddenly I noticed how dark this room was. There was a specific light in the room I thought should be turned on. I walked around, but I couldn't find it. Other lights in the room turned on. But they weren't the one I was looking for. They all lit the room in portions or only in shifts or blinkingly. I was looking for a solid light. It must have been completely dark outside by now. A lot of lights had beautiful, Rococo-style ornamentation around them.
I heard a conversation in my head between me and A, who was now something like my landlady. The conversation may have been about the lights. But I felt the conversation was mostly fabricated by me, to make A forget that she'd seen me perform telekinesis.
Dream #1
I was in the basement apartment of a house. It must have been late afternoon. I was writing, kneeling over a bed or couch that was lit by the grey light of a window above me. The bed/couch was cluttered with all kinds of things.
I sat my pen down. I motioned at the pen, but didn't touch it. The pen flew against the back of the (couch?). I was amazed that I could do something like that. It seemed like telekinesis.
I lifted up my hand. The pen stood, again without my touching it. I dropped my hand. The pen fell. I lifted up my hand and thought for the pen to come to me. It flew into my hand.
A woman like my psychiatrist A, with big, dark glasses, was looking in through the window. I thought she was spying on me and would report me if she knew I was practicing telekinesis. When I caught A's face in the window, A hurried away, toward a fence, keeping her back to me, and trying not to look suspicious.
Hoping to cover my trail, I now tried to act like I hadn't been performing any telekinesis.
Suddenly I noticed how dark this room was. There was a specific light in the room I thought should be turned on. I walked around, but I couldn't find it. Other lights in the room turned on. But they weren't the one I was looking for. They all lit the room in portions or only in shifts or blinkingly. I was looking for a solid light. It must have been completely dark outside by now. A lot of lights had beautiful, Rococo-style ornamentation around them.
I heard a conversation in my head between me and A, who was now something like my landlady. The conversation may have been about the lights. But I felt the conversation was mostly fabricated by me, to make A forget that she'd seen me perform telekinesis.
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