(9/19/09) psychological performance

(Entered in paper journal at 7:57 AM at Connecticut Muffin in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I was with a group of people out on a lawn like the Long Meadow at Prospect Park. The light was dim and grey-blue, like early morning or early evening. The group and I stood about halfway up a mild slope, possibly just before the edges of the canopies of a thick stand of trees.

Before us was an Asian woman, long haired, pale skinned, with thinnish, roundish eyes and a cheerful, smart voice. The woman was telling us how some psychological concept wasn't as deep as it had originally been thought to be, and how we (?) should treat people with the psychological condition related to this concept in a way different to that in which they'd been treated in the past.

I completely disagreed with this comment. But, I thought, I'm not the psychologist. I really don't have much to do with the treatment of these people.

I was now walking down an asphalt path in the park with a large group of people, including an Asian man who was a couple inches taller than I, a little muscly, with a square face and a short, slightly spiky, haircut. The man and I were talking, good-humoredly, about how we didn't agree with the woman. The man just laughed, as if to say, "Well, what are you going to do?"

I was now with a group of people like the improv comedy troupe I'd been in in college. We were looking at one of the sections of valley in the park. We were planning to put on a performance in this area.

But now we saw a couple of other groups walk out into the valley, setting up some kind of shop-like exhibits. The exhibits had weird boundaries set around them, like "roping" made of red lasers, just outlining where, for instance, walls would be in a fully built shop, almost like a computer drawing of a planned house or shop.

I saw that these two shop-like areas impeded the space we were going to perform in. But I thought we could still perform there. We walked down in between the two areas and began performing.

It was now like we were in a very dim, cheaply built hallway. The two stores were on either side of the hallway. I was leaning against the walls, which were and yet weren't quite real, tumbling against the walls, as if I were drunk and trying to find my balance. I may have noticed that one of the buildings was a store that rented out VHS video cassettes. The light in the hall may have been a deepish red-maroon, like in a dance club. There may even have been steam or smoke billowing around through the hallway.