(Entered in paper journal at 8:11 AM at Flying Saucer cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was in a car with a group of people. I may have been sitting in the front seat, on the passenger side. I didn't see the other people in the car -- I was just constantly looking out my window. We drove past a place like Coney Island or some amusement park near a beach.
The man driving the car told me about how most of the amusement park had been closed down lately. In my mind's eye, I saw the ferris wheel lying clattered on the ground, looming up slightly, as if it were gargantuan and peering up from behind a hill. The sky had been blue like on a bright summer day, but now it was a deep, electronic indigo.
We drove past the amusement park again, and this time all I could see were a building housing a merry-go-round and two other buildings. But I felt like I could still see the ferris wheel standing, and I almost wanted to insist to the man driving the car that the amusement park hadn't been torn down like he'd said it had. I felt like on some level of my vision, I was actually seeing a lot of the old amusement park rides still standing.
Dream #2
A scene like a movie. The movie was a version of George Bernard Shaw's Saint Joan that had been modernized "for the present," i.e. for one of the previous two decades, when the movie supposedly had been made. The scene was a courtroom. Everything had a mixed look, like a modern courthouse mixed with a tall cathedral with stained glass windows. The place was full of people, all dressed like business people from the 1990s (?).
Saint Joan had been reviewed in an area at the front of the building, a space like a stage or an altar. Now the high church officials who had reviewed her (and who were dressed like church officials, in rich robes, etc., who were portly, turtlish-looking, bald, gentle, even patient-looking in a way) brought Joan down to the pews/seats.
Joan stood in a podium/pulpit near the front of the audience, though possibly not at the very front. She now looked like Tracy Ullman. She was preparing, I thought to myself, for "the great soliloquy that ends the play." A white light (like the lamp over the reading area of a podium) reflected up onto Joan's face. Joan was dressed like an official woman -- like a politician.
Joan gave a strange, dry speech about the morality of Europe. The basic idea was about the bad parts of the morality of Europe bleeding into America or the bad parts of the morality of America bleeding into Europe. I thought, How is this supposed to be the great impassioned speech which saved Saint Joan from the stake? But I realized that this was part of the modernization of the story.
A woman like Amy Poehler was walking outside in the dark, through the cobbled streets of a village like in Disney's Beauty and the Beast. She may now have been Saint Joan. She walked into a big house which was pink, with brown, thick, wood framing. I called it the Gingerbread House.
I next saw Joan as she stood at a window on the second floor. The room behind her was obviously lit with electric light. The window before her was lightly frosted with lacy, intricate designs. The woman looked out on the street below. She thought about how, now that she was pregnant, she would have to give up the "fantasy" parts of her life or the "magic" parts of her life.
I saw from Joan's view, as if that were what the movie camera was seeing. Joan looked down to a circular planting bed at an intersection of streets. There were very cartoony, blue flowers like large daisies.
The woman thought to herself how she would now have to stop having conversations with the flowers. I couldn't figure out why she would have to stop having conversations -- actual mystical communications -- with the flowers. Her conversations with the flowers had allowed her to do a number of good things, possibly even to have heroic adventures.
Suddenly I remembered (as if on some level I knew this was a dream) that I had had a similar dream just this night of another woman who had had mystical communications with flowers, the same kind of blue flowers. I tried to remember the image. I had the impression of a full, vast row of blue flowers alongside a park path in the daytime.
Back to the movie, the view was now a bird's eye view over the village road the woman had been looking down on. Suddenly someone on a bicycle magically appeared. The person was here in response to the woman's resolution to stop conversing with the flowers. The person was here either to get the woman talking with the flowers again, to get the flowers talking with the woman even more strongly (as if the woman's pregnancy were muffling the communications, a greater power was needed to break through the muting), or else to find (inspire) a new person to speak with the flowers.
At first the cyclist looked like a person, maybe a very skinny boy. The scene looked increasingly cartoonish. I knew the boy was a spirit, not a person. The boy rode under (?) a row of trees or shrubs and into a park. The boy now had a huge, blue flower on his head. It was like the boy was a flower spirit. His arms and legs were as thin and flexible as flower stalks, though they, too, may have been blue, or blue with green stripes.
The boy rode toward a playground. I now knew it was more likely that the boy was actually seeking a new person to speak with the flowers, and that he was not trying to get the woman to speak with the flowers, as if he, too, had accepted that she no longer had the ability.
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