(9/9/05) a gay-tex wedding; locker room shakespeare

(Entered in paper journal at 6:54 AM at Starbucks on 87th Street and Lexington Avenue in Manhattan.)

Dream 1

I was in an "organic" grocery store that was about the size of a deli. I had gotten a few things -- some kind of bread and some kind of hummus with spinach in it. I walked through a square of wide aisles by a window wall (I think it was just dark, early evening) to the back, to a fridge-shelf.

I picked up a piece of cheese that actually looked like a McDonald's fruit parfait in a clear, plastic, cup. I looked at the information sticker on the top. It said (.90 pounds and 890 calories?). I was trying to figure out why, if the cheese was 100 calories per .1 pound, how it could be 890 calories, which was 90 calories more (?) than it should have been at .9 pounds. I think I came up with some justification.

Now I sat at a dinner table in front of a girl who was telling me that she chose not to eat the cheese because she didn't want to look any more ridiculous. She said I had pointed out a stain on her white shirt. I now saw the stain -- it was across one of her breasts, a streak like dried blood or shit. I told her either that I hadn't meant to embarrass her or that I hadn't mentioned her stain.

The woman then mentioned some other time she'd had a stain, but I only saw the images she was talking about: I couldn't hear her words. There was a thin, tall woman on a stage, dressed in black latex from head to toe, even with a latex mask. There were also metal clasps or straps all over the sit. But she had a liquidy, silver stain somewhere along her stomach. Now some other woman came up. The two women danced something like ballet (?) together.

I said to the woman (as if below the images we were still sitting in the diner), "How awkward to have that stain. And at the first wedding of its kind. A gay latex wedding.

(At this point I may have woken up. I thought to myself that this could have been called a gay-tex wedding.)

Dream 2

I was in a locker room. The locker room was dark, though occasionally lit by flashes of lightning. I and some woman, who may just have had an affair, were storing items in lockers. The lockers were cubic, maybe fifteen inches to a side, maybe greater in depth. The items we were storing (all I remember is a brown, rough, worn, leather pair of shoes) were pieces of evidence of some kind against the woman's husband (?).

Now the "husband" came in. he was kind of fat, with shaggy, curly hair and a big mustache. he was naked and sweaty. He squealed something at us like that he knew something was going on. He may have run at me.

I realized this was all a dramatic production, some adaptation of a Shakespeare play. I now saw the copy for the original Shakespeare play. I saw that there was a huge amount of stage directions. I was more interested, though, to see that dialogue, as if slightly arbitrary and manipulable, was inserted in the stage directions. I saw how it added a dramatic quality to this scene, which was mostly physical fighting, between the character I had been and the husband. I wondered why nobody ever mentioned this feature of Shakespeare's writing.

(6/10/06) full of shit; a spaceship; monster in the cuckoo clock; one thing i can't miss

(Entered in paper journal at 9:51 AM at Starbucks on 1st Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)

Dream 1

I kept on shitting until the toilet bowl was full of a putrid, yellow-tan shit.

Dream 2

A spaceship.

Dream 3

A monster that sprang out of some structure like a cuckoo clock, except huge. It was a wooden, hollow skeleton of a dragon, made of beautiful wood, and with melty, fiery features. I was terrified as it plunged toward me.

Dream 4

It was daytime. I was in a car that was driving in the desert, down a dirt road that was somehow also not like a dirt road. I don't know who drove. I sat in a front seat, so I could look back to see my coworkers BS and ES. We were heading down into a canyon.

BS told me in a rude way that my job was to look for one thing in particular, perhaps a small bird. He said something like, "I don't want to hear how this or that is so amazing. I've already seen it. I already know."

But as we drove into the beautiful, vast canyon, just around a corner, the walls became widely visible. Stuck into the walls were enormous machines that looked like building-sized intercoms or air-conditioners. On the ground before the structures were heaps of rubble and mangled-looking, complex processing-style structures. My breath was taken away.

BS just said, "Electricity." I knew he meant, "I've seen it before. I don't care. It's worthless."

We drove now along some hex-style stone-cobble path in the canyon.

It must have been raining. The path was slick and a little scattered with mud. The sky was grey.

I saw a little bird like a roadrunner.

I wondered if I had missed the big thing BS was looking for and whether I hadn't been stupid to listen to BS about it in the first place.