(1/1/06) on the bus; the mystical bookshelf

(Entered in paper journal at 10:03 AM at Starbucks at Astor Place.)

Dream 1

It was early morning, deep blue, and I was on a bus that was also an office. There were a lot of seats per row, like on an big airplane. We were waiting for the bus to pull out of the parking lot. I may have thought the bus driver was lazy and didn't want to leave because he didn't want any of us to have to work. I may have been a temp. Some new permanent person "moved in" to the seat beside mine. He looked like my senior coworker DH. He sat to my left.

I had been slouched in my chair. The seat back in front of me had its tray down and a computer screen in the seat back. I had a couple envelopes in my hand. I opened one. It had what looked like a check in it. The check looked like it was for a lot money. I was happy at first, but I realized I didn't any money coming to me.

I lifted the check up from down by my waist into a beam of incandescent light coming from my own or someone's ceiling light near me. The check changed before my eyes to a check-like promotion from some bank, telling me that for just $170.24 (I think) I could start up a professional bank account with them. Something about the check felt old, like a magazine ad from the 1970s.

I put the "check" down and thought, Well, obviously they don't know me, or they wouldn't have sent me an invitation like this. I was sad when I realized I also still owed a ton of money.

The new person to my left seemed to be looking at me. I sat straight up in my seat and tried to look motivated. I thought he could get me, maybe all of us, fired by telling the boss none of us worked. But then I thought, All of us are at the mercy of the bus driver.

I "saw out" of the bus to a building with a couple people in the doorway. They were the higher bosses. I knew the bus driver may have been stopping us from doing work, but that the higher bosses were also not giving us anything to do. I now felt less ashamed of sitting there doing nothing.

Dream 2

I was in some place like the outdoors. I followed a few people, mostly women. They may even have been holding my hand and leading me.

We walked past a short bookcase. I caught sight of a copy of William James's Principles of Psychology. I broke off from everybody else. I wanted to look at the book I figured I could catch up with everybody else later.

The book was on a shelf of similarly bound books. The binding/cover was a cheap, fake leather, marbleized pattern, in red, blue, or green. Principles of  Psychology was bound in red. The volumes were all thin at the binding edge, but tall, and with wide pages. I thought about what a pain it would be to carry this copy of the PoP all over the place with me. I was ashamed to look directly at the bookshelf because I didn't want anybody nearby to know I was so interested in such books.

But looking at the bookshelf as I was about to grab the Principles of Psychology, I noticed a very obscure book, bound in blue, by an author with a name like Epictetus. The book was about some strange religious question, some dark, symbolic treatise on Jesus. This book was very attractive to me, even though I felt the quality of the writing might not be as high or challenging as James's writing. I was frightened by the book, and more ashamed of looking at it and being seen.

A man and woman sat on a couch to the right of the bookcase. The man and woman were thin, a little like hippies, cocky, and good humored. I wanted to take one of the books. But I didn't want to carry around such bulk with me, to weigh myself down and take on more clutter than I was already bearing.

But now I looked below the tall volumes and saw a whole collection of small, thin books, half in red binding and half in green binding -- the same kind of cheap, fake leather, marbleized binding as was covering the taller volumes.

There were a lot of incredible titles, all mystical. I figured I could take one of these. They were so small that it wouldn't add much at all to my heavy load. And they were all so ancient and deep -- I was sure I could find what I needed in them.

But as I grabbed for one I looked to my left and saw some stacked containers full of old, pulpy books, all on mysticism. One in particular, a bulky one but with poor quality, newsprint-like paper had a photo on the front of an ancient Middle Eastern city with a purple-maroon afternoon sky behind it and before it a cheesy,touched-up group of two modern people and one "ancient" person (I think) standing close together like in a family portrait.

The title and subtitle of this book again had, like the book by "Epictetus," something to do with Jesus, but in a dark and spooky way, In this case, the book was about some very old, spooky ritual that was directly connected to the powers Jesus had.

The book appealed to me on so many levels. I loved its cheesy look. I loved its cheap bulkiness. And there's always something I love about the 1960s and 1970s style of getting into the deep, scary issues of mysticism -- the way the vapid, blunt American speech wraps itself around that ancient complexity and terror -- or, rather, the way I always wish it would do that.

I picked up the book and flipped it around. The photo on the back was of a green hillside and blue sky in the background before which stood "Jesus" and two modern people, maybe two children, maybe a black boy and a white girl. The back caption once again spoke of the secrets of Jesus's power, though this time much less obscurely and intellectually frightening and more self-help-focused and more obviously centered, not around "the ancient magician" but around Jesus.

I knew if the man and the woman saw the back this book, they'd laugh at me for thinking Jesus was cool. I flipped the book around so the front cover would be visible while I carried it. But I noticed then that even the title on the front was obviously about Jesus being cool and magic. I hesitated over taking the book. I may even have put it away.

To mask my taking the book I walked over to the right of the couch (now inside), where there was a makeshift "book"shelf against the wall. It was full of CDs, DVDs, and videotapes all in security casings. I think there were books behind the lowest level (which was the floor) at first. But as I flipped through the CDs the "books" behind them became videotapes.

There was a theme to all the videotapes, which all had cheesy, cheap, solid-colored boxes. The theme weas that one seriously had to question whether one should work in the mainstream at all, since to do that work would mean to succumb to the evils of the industries. The videos were all stories of these industry evils, how the industries were set to hook people on consumption, and how this consumption resulted in the murder and destruction of many people.

I hadn't been looking for any of that. I just wanted something plain and easy and big enough to cover up the title of the mystical book I wanted to take.

The couple on the couch addressed me. "Remember the old days, Preemie? You sure did a lot of silly things back then." I now pulled out a CD with a picture of me on the cover. I was dressed like I dressed in college. I was knelt down over dusty ground, throwing up.

The couple said something like, "When are you going to give us that CD you promised to give us as a present?"

I pulled out another CD. The cover showed me in the same position, still throwing up. But this time I wore green Nomex pants and a navy blue t-shirt -- the firefighting outfit I'd had while working at an Americorps program near Los Alamos, New Mexico.

I felt a little lost as I looked at this photo. I thought I should feel disappointed. But from the fact that, other than any puking, I looked so good and healthy, I couldn't tell why I should feel so disappointed.

(7/8/08) are you alright?; selling operations or vehicle

(Entered in paper journal at 6 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was on a bus. The bus was moderately full. I sat near the back. A few people from my work sat nearby, behind me. They seemed to be from sales. They involved me in their conversation. One of my co-workers from the Sales department, DF, came out, possibly from the bathroom, and sat down.

Now we had arrived at our destination. I got off the train and walked a few steps behind DF. We were in a broad area of stout, featureless (though chipping), concrete buildings. The ground was also concrete. The sky had an eggshell blue and pink look to it, like after sunset.

I looked at my BlackBerry. I had gotten an email from DF. DF asked if I was alright. This email was, I knew, more in response to an email he'd sent me before we'd gotten on the bus than it was to the conversation we'd had on the bus. We both stepped into a building, the interior of which looked like the living room of a trailer home. I told DF I was alright. I may have been a little teary eyed.

Dream #2

I was talking with my boss BS about some company. The company was selling one of its operations or one if its vehicles (?). But I kept having the feeling that the vehicle (and/or operation?) was still useful to the company.

BS said, "Oh, well. If they're still keeping their operation in Philadelphia, this vehicle would be great for continuing to transport things around this area."

I now knew that the operations may have been something like a waste-to-energy plant, and that the vehicle was a "garbage truck" (looked more like a coal or gravel truck). I drew the back end of the truck, but only partly completed the drawing, so it looked something like:

(12/21/08) L's sick mother; the land of mutated children

(Entered in paper journal at 12:08 PM at girlfriend H's apartment.)

Dream #1

I was inside an apartment. It was smallish, with grey carpet and pale lighting. It might have been early morning or late afternoon. I might have been all alone in the apartment.

My friend R's wife L walked in. Apparently the apartment belonged to R and L. I might have been in there, trying to get something while neither of them were there. But now L saw me. She went in and sat on her bed, which was (apparently) in the living room. The bed was all messy.

I asked L how she was doing. She seemed very mellow, almost depressed. She said she was fine. I asked her how her mom and dad were doing. She said, "Oh, my mom..."

I saw a picture in my head of a cartoon dad and mom at the very top of a greyish-green screen.

The mom popped out of the picture. I understood that this meant that L's mom was having health problems, or maybe that she had cancer.

I had to leave. L didn't want me to go, but, as bad as I felt for L's mom, I didn't want to have or start anymore contact with L or R.

I walked out the door. I wore both my shoes, but my right foot was also wrapped in a brown, plastic bag. I walked down a long, grey-painted, wooden stairway to a small parking lot/road that was bordered by a slightly wooded area. I knew R would be coming around soon. I wanted to be gone before he got here so I wouldn't have to see him. I may have walked another road.

Dream #2

I got onto a small airplane. The seats of the plane were arranged like a bus. The pilots got in. They sat in a seating area like bus drivers might sit in.

The plane began speeding up. The light outside was greyish like on a cloudy day. We coated past a landscape of full, green trees.

As the plane began taking off, I looked to my right, i.e. toward the front of the plane. The light outside was deep blue, like late afternoon, almost night. I saw through the pilots' windows. I thought, I've never been in a plane where you could actually see through the pilots' windows like this!

We passed through two sets of trees, which were arranged on either side of us like gates. We would scrape against the trees as we passed them. The trees may have been half-barren, not full. The horizon was a band of pale purple.

It was now daytime. The pilot was talking to some passengers in the front row as if he were a bus driver. I looked around. We were flying barely above street level, above a highway, following the highway's source. Then the plane was actually driving along on the highway. Finally, the plane had transformed into a regular bus, driving along the highway.

I thought, Well, maybe this is just for the first leg of our trip. I remembered having taken a bus once from Newark Airport to Allentown, Pennsylvania. I thought, Well, once we get to our next place we can take an actual airplane.

I was now skateboarding down the highway. The highway had a weird appearance, like it was smaller or cleaner than usual. The day was warm and bright. There was also a feeling along the highway like it was passing under bridges or just within range of barriers or enclosures, though there were grass slopes on either side of the road all the time. There were no cars. Instead there were kids, maybe teenagers, playing all through the street.

I tried to keep off to the left shoulder of the road. The shoulder was lined with tan bricks. My skateboard kept moving without any effort from me: I was going down a slope the whole way.

I was trying to avoid the kids because I didn't want to interrupt their fun, but also because I didn't want them to think I was a kid, too, and have them start bothering me. But eventually some kids did start to notice me. I skated over to the right shoulder of the road in hopes of avoiding them. But they followed me.

I got off my skateboard. I walked up onto the grass slope. Here, too, were kids in small groups, like picnic groups, playing here and there under the wide shade of the sparse trees.

I reached the top of the slope. The space was empty of trees, completely open to the clear, blue sky. All around me I saw rolling hills of grass, with small groups of kids playing everywhere.

I was being followed again by a group of kids who walked with a zombie-like slowness and will-lessness. I tried to avoid the kids. I walked to my right, toward a rocky cliff. Three zombie children cornered me at the cliff. They all looked like average, slightly troublemaking, white teenage boys. One wore a brown t-shirt.

I knew if I jumped off the cliff I'd die. I hadn't been afraid of the kids before: I just didn't want to be bothered by them. So I figured there was no use being afraid now. I might as well just see what they were planning to do.

But the kids didn't reach me. They may have stopped. The head of one of the zombie kids suddenly re-shaped. It puffed out into a grotesque circle, like out of a Garbage Pail Kids card. The kid seemed to be doing this in order to make me afraid. But I still wasn't afraid. Another kid expanded his head so that it grew a leg and an arm, both of which had a gross, rubbery appearance. I was trying to figure out what kind of disease these children had that was making their bodies do this.

I was now in a house or an apartment. This place may have been underground. The place was only half-lit, as if a few random lights in unseen rooms were throwing into the main room the only light the room had. The place was sparsely furnished but seemed cluttered nonetheless. There was a lot of activity, maybe from a lot of children running around. The place seemed more like a mental hospital than an apartment or house or even a school building.

At first I was floating, as if I were coming down a stairway and into the main room. I tried not to attract anybody's attention. I thought if anybody saw me and tried to connect with me, they'd give me whatever disease they had.

I floated through the main room (over an air-hockey table?) and into a very small, lit hallway. A couple kids ran out of a doorway to my left. As they ran past me they mutated themselves. One added limbs to his head the way the other had done. Another added bubbling lumps, two or three times the size of his actual head, to the back of his skull. A little girl came out and mutated her head so that it looked like a short body attached to a tall body at the neck, with the tall body in a pink dress and the short body in a blue dress.

Finally a woman came out of the room. She looked like Daryl Hannah's Pris character in the movie Blade Runner. She was very sexy and sleek. She wore a black and white striped tights costume and had spiky, pale blonde, almost white, hair. She herself was a mutation. But she was known as the "mother" of all these children. She had hypnotized them to be mischievous. But she was like a role model to them, so even if they weren't hypnotized, they probably would still be mischievous, if that was how she told them to be.

The woman touched me. I knew that since she touched me, I, too, would probably also start acting mischievously.

(3/21/09) roundup for a meeting; girlfriend on the bus

(Entered in paper journal at 9 AM at Starbucks on 17th Street and Broadway in Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I may have been in an office building. The place was dim, grey, emptyish, with stray clutter. I may have spoken with PD (one of the heads of the company I had recently been laid off from) or seen her as she passed by. I knew PD was holding a meeting for the department I worked in.

I walked to some place outside. It was like a street sidewalk that had a waist-high concrete barrier and chain link fence over the right side. My old boss BS and some of my co-workers stood out by the barrier. The co-workers all looked young, like people who would have been at about my level professionally. Stray office clutter lay around all of them.

I told BS, "If it's okay, I'm going to head over to PD's meeting at 12:15." BS sighed, like he supposed he and everybody with him should go, too.

As we all continued along the street to get to the office, I said that it was almost time for the meeting. BS smirked and said, "That is, if PD doesn't get arrested beforehand."

Dream #2

I was on a bus. It had a kind of nice, grey interior. There were some smart-looking people on the bus. There were seats open, but I stood. I stood near the front of the bus, on the right (not driver's) side, looking toward the back of the bus. At some point, I was surprised to see my girlfriend H sitting in the seat next to where I was standing. H was also surprised to see me.

The bus came to a stop. The stop stood in a beam of golden sunset light. The light filled the bus. The bus emptied out a little more. There were plenty of seats, but I still stood.

H stood up. She looked like she wanted to change seats, so she wouldn't be near me, but that she wanted to do it in a polite way. She walked a few rows away and sat in a seat on the left side of the bus. When she'd stood up, I'd noticed that she looked nicer than usual. She was a little skinnier and had a softer face. She wore a long-sleeved shirt with horizontal stripes of pink, blue, white, and possibly purple (and other colors?) and a long, blue khaki skirt.

All the seats were faced away from me, as if I were now at the back instead of the front of the bus, or as if all the seats were faced away from the front of the bus.

(1/24/10) still-on-the-bus guilt

(Entered in paper journal at 8:13 AM at Sit & Wonder cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I was with a large group of people, out on a wide, dirt road, in the woods. There was a bus parked on the left (?) side of the road, facing forward against the left side "direction" of the road. There was another vehicle parked on the right side of the road, facing the same direction as the bus. The right side of the road may have bounded a grassy field.

I walked toward the vehicles, facing their front ends, so the bus was on my right and the other vehicle, something like a jeep or Hummer, was on my left. The other people were in a long line by the other vehicle.

I spoke with a woman (my mother?) at the front of the line. I told the woman/my mom that it was sad, but that we could only take a certain amount of people with us on the bus. I felt selfish for saying this, and I wondered why I wasn't volunteering to be one of the people who didn't go on the bus.

I saw myself, probably in a reflection somewhere, or in my shadow on the dirt of the road. I wore a strange outfit that looked like a suit but also looked like a cameraman's outfit and also looked like casual clothes. One piece of clothing that caught my attention was a pale, lime-green shirt with a strange tinge of tan in it. The shirt seemed too large. All of the clothes may possibly have seemed too large for me. I may also have been older, with grey hair, and I may possibly even have been a bit overweight.