(8/11/07) shopping mall ballroom; pink panty panic; pinto bean stew; having friends over

(Entered in paper journal at 7:45 AM at Ozzie's Cafe on Seventh Avenue and Lincoln Place.)

Dream #1

I walked down a "main street" like block of shops. A woman was moving things out of a moving truck. I felt like I knew the woman, but I wasn't sure, so I didn't say anything. I helped the woman move a table into a house. Now there were a bunch of women helping us. I still felt really bad for not telling the woman I thought I knew her.

In the room there was a square column, maybe six feet tall, with a TV set into a hole in its top. Previews for movies were playing.

One preview was for an old-looking movie. In one scene of this old-looking movie a square-faced, aging woman was on the phone. She was covered with something like tar, as if she had been in an explosion. She said something like "I would do anything for you, even die in an explosion." The scene cut to the woman the first woman was talking with on the phone. This woman had black hair and was, like the first woman, square-faced and aging.

Another preview started with a city skyline at night. I myself was now on a building-top, looking down at the skyline. I sat on the ledge of the building. I decided to climb down the building. I did so by scaling down the curtains, which were outside the windows.

I got down to a certain level, maybe the first floor. In the window I could see a ballroom. A woman stood before a table of drinks. She looked like a 1980s-style politician. She wore a red suit-dress and had a wide, hairsprayed hairstyle.

I was now inside the ballroom. Suddenly I felt so free that I flew all over the room, up to the high ceiling and back down. The ceiling had an oval design like framing for a fresco or mural. The light in the ballroom was golden and warm. The room was pretty empty overall, with only a few people inside.

I flew into a hallway like a shopping mall corridor. I was thinking about buildings as I flew. I wondered which building I had scaled down. I couldn't remember the building's name. It had seemed to be one of the highest buildings in the city. I thought it had been designed by Louis Sullivan (?). I now imagined a modern-looking, green-glass building.

As I saw and thought this, I flew down a side hallway, where there were no shops. When I got close to the end of the hallway I landed, then jumped up, hit my feet against the right wall -- which was a weird, rough, plasticky, tan material -- and flew in a u-turn back toward the main corridor.

As I flew over a handicap-accessible ramp, a mall worker, a long-haired Hispanic man in a janitor's uniform, walked up it. The man looked at me. I thought he was going to bully me.

I almost lost my power of flight. But there was a huge structure like a confession box to my right. I jumped, grabbed onto the box, pulled myself up onto it, and stood on top of it.

I was now flying down the main hallway. I landed in front of a Victoria's Secret store. I went inside, where a woman helped me find some lingerie.

Dream #2

I was presently living at my grandmother's (my grandmother P's?) house. It was late at night. I was just coming back home, just entering the house. My grandmother had also gone out for the evening. She hadn't yet returned.

I went into a big bedroom. I had a few bags in the bedroom. I pulled a dress and panties out of one bag. I put the dress and panties on. I got aroused and masturbated, then fell asleep.

In the morning I woke up. I realized I had fallen asleep with my bedroom door wide open. I knew the door of my grandma's bedroom was right across the hallway from the door to my bedroom. It would, then, have been easy for my grandma and the man she had picked up and brought home to have seen me as I slept! I was ashamed, especially since this man, whom I imagined to be some kind of sleazy guy, didn't know me and obviously, therefore (?), wouldn't have any sympathy for my sexual abnormalities.

I lifted up the blankets to get out of bed. I had ejaculated in my panties and worn them to sleep, even though they were soaked with my semen. There was a pink, wet patch on my white sheets, as if the semen had soaked through my panties and, soaking through the panties, transmitted the color of the panties to the sheets. But the panties were actually a faded, peach-pink gingham pattern, while the pink of the semen-patch was a shocking, vivid pink.

The whole house was full of natural, golden-white morning light. Somehow it was now like my grandma and the guy she'd picked up had actually never come home. I could see through the very short hallway into the big, white-carpeted living room.

A patch of light on the floor indicated that the front door of the house was wide open. I sensed that someone had just recently walked into the house. I tried to cover myself up, especially the front of my semen-soaked panties. But I knew the person was coming toward this room, and that I couldn't possibly get fully dressed before the person reached the room. I wouldn't be able to hide the fact that I was wearing women's clothes.

I grabbed the dress I had put on the night before. It was like a blue sundress. I wadded it up and covered up the front of my panties with it.

A pretty, Hispanic woman walked in. The woman didn't seem to be aware of my shameful appearance at all. She told me, "I'm looking for a XXXXX." (Hotel? Doctor? I can't remember.) "Can you help me find one?"

I knew I had a phone book in my (???) kitchen, so I went with her into the kitchen. I no longer held the dress in front of my panties.

We got into the kitchen. I had a whole train (or something like Stephen King's "book snake") of phone books in the kitchen. They piled about four feet tall and sprawled all the way out into a long, dark hallway. I was trying to find the correct phone book. All the other ones were out of date.

I was now dressed in my regular boys' clothes. My grandma had come home. The man was also with my grandma. It was now like the man and my grandma had lived together for a little while. And now the room I had spent the night in was a room used by the man's son. The man's son had now also, apparently, arrived back at the house. My grandma and the man asked me if I could clear out my bags so the son could come in and sleep.

The bed was now in the center of the room, against the back wall, as opposed to previously, when it had been against the right wall and moved a few feet away from the back wall. There was also now a dresser with a mirror against the front wall. It may all have been this way from the time the pretty woman (who was now gone) had walked into the room.

I now realized that the messy spot of pink semen was still on the underside of the blanket. I panicked, trying to figure how I could the son from getting into the bed.

Dream #3

A naked woman walked around in a room the floor of which was some weird material like brown turtle shells. The wall had pipes coming out of it. The pipes were maybe twelve inches in diameter and blew out billows of steam, which I thought of as "industrial gases."

I (? - wherever I'd come from) walked into the next room, which was like a room in an abandoned house. The floor was brownish-red, like clay. The walls were sloppily painted with sea-green paint. There was a cafeteria-style counter against a wall. In the distance was a stairwell filled with natural daylight and leading to an upper floor.

I felt a haughty feeling toward the woman in the room with the steam-pipes, as if I felt that, since the woman hadn't shown up in this room, she couldn't show up for her job.

A woman behind the cafeteria counter called for me. This woman was oldish and fattish. She asked me what I'd like for lunch. I looked down and chose some roast pork, plantains, and pinto bean stew.

Dream #4

A lot of my friends were walking through rooms in my house. My friends might have been getting ready to stay with me for a while. I was happy to have so much space in this place (which was full of rooms) that I could have a few of my friends stay with me.

(1/30/09) a portrait of the lennons; screwed and loving it

(Entered in paper journal at 8:30 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I was in a very grimy and messy, unfinished basement, like the basement of the house my family lived in in my last three years of high school. I was coming out of the basement as if I were coming back from a long trip. I walked through a plastic (?) curtain to get into the stairwell. The stairwell was also grimy, like the basement, but had white walls and white-tiled stairs (with reddish and brownish grime all over the place) and was yellowed with sunlight from a door-window at the top of the stairs.

As I walked up the stairs I said, as if speaking to a camera, "I know I'm being watched, so I'd better behave." I may have turned around to see a small surveillance camera on the wall over the doorway at the foot of the stairwell. I might have been or thought of myself as a pretty girl with dark, tan skin and long, black hair.

I was now somewhere upstairs with my mom. She had gotten me a camera, since I had expressed my frustration over not having been able to take photos of things recently. But, she told me, the camera had only a XXXXX memory, so I could only take (five? ten?) photos at a time. But the medium was also film, not digital memory. So I knew I'd have to get the photos developed. The photos were also only in black and white, although they apparently had the most desirable resolution quality imaginable.

I saw a few photos that had been taken, as if I were holding onto them crookedly, in a disordered pile, as if I couldn't put them in order at all in my hands. The photos looked like crime scene or car crash (or punk rock) photos: very jangled, with people lying or standing in awkward, wild poses, with their mouths wide open, and with objects scattered all over, maybe broken.

I then saw a photo of John Lennon and his family, possibly standing in Central Park. There were a lot of people in the photo. The photo stood before all my vision, as if I were seeing it on a movie or television screen. At first I could only see a small fragment of it, like pant legs, then a section of face. But eventually the whole photo became clear to me.

Julian Lennon, as a boy, caught my attention first. He looked exactly like John Lennon. He wore a pea coat that went down to his knees. He stood just about in the center of the photo, a little to the left. Just to the left of him and behind stood Yoko Ono. Farther to the left and farther back stood John. He and Julian may have been making the same kind of expression: a complacent, but somehow sad, tucking upward of the right corner of the mouth, with a bright, but blank, almost depressed, look in the eyes.

Farther to the left stood people like my brother and sister. To the right of Julian, beside him, stood one or two of his brothers/sisters by John and Yoko. The children were all the same height, and they looked somewhat the same, thought the brothers/sisters may have looked like children who had more "personality."

Behind Julian stood a tallish, blonde, teenage girl. Whereas everybody so far (except John and Yoko?) had a kind of dressed-up casual, late 1960s look, this girl looked like a fashionable casual girl from the 1980s. She wore a patterned sweater and had short, loosely curled, blonde hair. She was looking to the right, to a woman who looked just like her, except that she was more formally dressed, though still in the 1980s style. This was the girl's mother, who was also (i.e. at the same time as Yoko) John's wife.

To the girl's immediate right were a couple of the girl's brothers/sisters, who were slightly shorter than she, and were dressed more in the 1960s style. I may have been in the photo as well, somewhere far to the right.

Dream #2

I was in an office, which actually looked more like a theater or auditorium, talking with my boss BS about my having gotten fired. The place was bright and grey with window light -- probably high windows on a sunny day. The place was also full of young people, mostly men, who were very active and happy. They all looked like business people, but they were dressed in t-shirts and jeans.

One of my friends caught my attention. He had let his seat move back into its upward position. He then sat on its edge and moved back and forth on it. He said something like, "Now I can feel what our company did to us is really like!" This was supposed to mean he felt that we had gotten screwed. But then he said, "It kind of feels good. I can tell by your look that you think it feels good, too. Don't tell me you're one of those guys who likes it up the ass."

I looked away and I thought, It couldn't be. I thought the swaying back and forth on the seat edge was fun. But could that mean I liked anal sex? I then moved away from my chair, not standing, but crouching. I let the seat cushion spring back up, like a normal seat in an auditorium or movie theater might do. I then started scratching my back against the seat edge. Everybody around me said, "Now that's a great idea!"

The guys were all starting to act rowdy. They were all scratching their backs against their seat edges, but they were also standing and joking with each other, having a lot of fun. I had previously felt like they were making fun of me. Now I realized that all their joking had been to make me laugh, and that they were largely looking for my approval.