(Entered in paper journal at 5:57 PM on N-train from 57th Street and 7th Avenue in Manhattan to 7th Avenue and Flatbush in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
Something like a television show where a woman went down into a deep cave (an "ethanol plant") to help workers fight for their rights (?). None of the men could believe the woman had come down here. She was a woman and a lawyer. The men didn't expect women in these situations. They also didn't expect white collar people like lawyers to come down here.
I saw a few views of men behind weird veils of subterranean formations like beaded curtains. There were stalactites and stalagmites everywhere. The whole view was fuzzy like a TV with bad reception.
The woman got older and a little more eccentric as she walked farther. It became clear she was tough and talented at fighting for people in these situations.
The woman encountered one "miner" who bashed open a bubble-like stone formation to reveal a cauldron full of some fizzy, acidic, black, warm liquid. The miner said this was some kind of dissolving fluid that helped to make the "ethanol," but that close contact with the liquid would dissolve living organisms. Nevertheless, the man reached his arms down into the liquid to pull out something like a pelt.
The woman was in a room (still deep in the cave), sitting on a table with her legs stretched out. She had a shawl over her legs. She was desperately pulling the shawl all over her body.
I (in the room now?) was afraid and disappointed because the woman might have been getting sick. A lot of the miners came in now and spoke to the woman about the cause of their lawsuit. I saw (in pictures) that a beagle had been killed by the dangerous liquid. I wondered if this was the only reason for the lawsuit. It didn't seem like enough.
The beagle lay on its side on the floor at the woman's feet, like it had just carelessly been thrown or left there. It looked preserved -- stuffed -- almost salted somehow.
Dream 2
It was a sunny day. I had come to a river in a big city, like the Hudson in New York, to pick up a little boat for a trip I was probably taking for work. I walked with an old man who looked like a fisherman on something like a boat or a platform on the water. The platform was white, plastic-like, and thick, but hollow feeling, like the lid of a Coleman cooler. It was huge and featureless.
We got to the edge, near the underside of an enormous bridge overlooking the city shore. The man pointed out a pedal boat (like the boats at Central Park or at lakes at amusement parks -- flat, plastic, square devices you pedal to move along the water). The pedal boat was half-submerged in the water.
This was apparently my boat. I thought, I didn't expect the boat to be so flimsy and wet. I tried to figure how I could fit my backpack into the boat so it wouldn't get drenched in one of the seemingly unavoidable puddles of dirty water in the boat.
I said I'd take the boat. We walked back toward a cabin that was on steadier footing.
The man now had an assistant who told me something I couldn't understand. I asked the man to repeat. He said, "The boss says you have to take the 3:15 AM ferry back. That's the latest one. But you have to take it, because you have to have the boat back at 6:30 AM (?)."
There were a lot of people, all (?) of whom I knew, mingling around the cabin, which was wood-paneled and like a new cabin on a nice yacht. I hemmed and hawed about taking the ferry. I would be working until late at night, and then I'd have to take this awkwardly late ferry.
At some point I was walking by a railway, in a thin depression. The depression became a space before wide windows in a house.
I hit my toe and got a big sliver of glass in it. I pulled the sliver out. It was now a one-inch-long quartz crystal with a point and even, solid facets. It was veined, almost marbled, with my blood.
I was panicked. I thought I would get a disease from this piece of glass (which I also still held in my hand, i.e. along with the quartz). But then I thought the crystal (I didn't call it quartz yet) was mystical, that somehow I would get some kind of power from it.
But then the panic came over me again. I stood up and hurried to some man in the distance, saying, "Quartz! I got quartz in me!" in a jittery, repulsed, quivering tone.
Showing posts with label cave. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cave. Show all posts
Sunday, February 12, 2017
(8/5/06) high rents for killers' caves; obvious classic literature and medieval pulp novels
(Entered in paper journal at 1:22 PM at Starbucks at Astor Place in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I was on a journey down a cave (?) with other people, possibly my friend R and a woman. The cave had some quality like a haunted house in an amusement park, and even had features like in a house. Then there would be deep drops down.
We were possibly pursuing a bad person. He might have been killing people as he ran, while we were far behind. I was afraid of him because he could kill us. But I also wanted to get to him as soon as possible.
When we went down the drops I felt some hesitation from the people I was with. I yelled at them, near the end, "Just let yourself drop down! It's the only way to catch up!"
The people I was with were going down slowly, as if along the walls. I tried to drop down freely. But even I was somehow stumbling along the cave walls.
I got down to the bottom. I stood before a little hallway like in a house. The hallway was blocked off by a little children's barrier-fence, the kind that can be expanded to block the doorways between rooms in a house, and was full of human heads, maybe two or three heads deep. I "knew" the killer was here.
I was in the room next to this hallway. It was nice. A nice window showed a sunny day outside. The room had pale blue carpet and seemed kind of empty except a TV and video games. I went through a couple other rooms, looking for the family that lived here, to warn them about the killer.
I stopped at one point, realizing how quiet this place was. I thought to myself, The only other thing I'd like here is more private drapes, and I could live here pretty easily.
I was "called back" by a woman. I "walked back" to the living room. Apparently it was time to leave for the day, as if we came here regularly or had come here as part of some regular chore.
The house was now enormous, middle-class looking, but huge. I looked at the wall to my left. It gave the rental rate for places like this. I saw this place was rather expensive. A smaller place like this was $1,700 per month. A larger one (still maybe as large as this one?) was $2,400.
The woman who had called me sat at a dining table to my right. We headed toward the front door.
Dream 2
I sat by a woman in a big room. There was a lively group of people somewhere in the distance. The woman and I spoke about something smart. Then I turned my attention to a book. I read a little, the first couple paragraphs, which described a car trip, comparing it to some other harrowing or humbling experience.
Somehow I realized the book I was reading was The Grapes of Wrath. I thought, How obvious for someone to be reading The Grapes of Wrath. I thought the girl I was with must have been thinking that I was just trying, in an obvious and pretty conventional way, to look smart in front of her.
I was reading out of a huge anthology, like one I had in college. It had a pale tan paper cover with a little bit of a plastic feel to it. I flipped out of The Grapes of Wrath and tried to find something a little more unique to read.
I found Faulkner's The Wild Palms. I thought, I never realized that I owned a copy of The Wild Palms just by owning this book! But I didn't want to read The Wild Palms, either.
I realized I was just searching aimlessly. I forced myself to put the book away and just work on talking to the woman instead of trying to impress her with what I was reading. It just felt healthier to speak with the woman. I also felt like I was getting too obsessed with reading -- and with reading things I didn't even want to read.
But as I was putting down the book I flipped through the pages. my attention was caught by color plates of paintings by Maxfield Parrish or Edwin Austin Abbey depicting medieval scenes.
The scenes were like covers for pulp paperback novels. One was for a book called Merlin. In the scene, Merlin, a tall, towering man in a red-orange gown) stood with his arms oopen wide at his sides on a mountaintop before a blue sky with thick, brilliant, white clouds.
Another scene was for a book entitled Sir Gawain and XXXXX (possibly Ywain, but possibly not). This scene was like a spotlight on a dark forest.
Dream 1
I was on a journey down a cave (?) with other people, possibly my friend R and a woman. The cave had some quality like a haunted house in an amusement park, and even had features like in a house. Then there would be deep drops down.
We were possibly pursuing a bad person. He might have been killing people as he ran, while we were far behind. I was afraid of him because he could kill us. But I also wanted to get to him as soon as possible.
When we went down the drops I felt some hesitation from the people I was with. I yelled at them, near the end, "Just let yourself drop down! It's the only way to catch up!"
The people I was with were going down slowly, as if along the walls. I tried to drop down freely. But even I was somehow stumbling along the cave walls.
I got down to the bottom. I stood before a little hallway like in a house. The hallway was blocked off by a little children's barrier-fence, the kind that can be expanded to block the doorways between rooms in a house, and was full of human heads, maybe two or three heads deep. I "knew" the killer was here.
I was in the room next to this hallway. It was nice. A nice window showed a sunny day outside. The room had pale blue carpet and seemed kind of empty except a TV and video games. I went through a couple other rooms, looking for the family that lived here, to warn them about the killer.
I stopped at one point, realizing how quiet this place was. I thought to myself, The only other thing I'd like here is more private drapes, and I could live here pretty easily.
I was "called back" by a woman. I "walked back" to the living room. Apparently it was time to leave for the day, as if we came here regularly or had come here as part of some regular chore.
The house was now enormous, middle-class looking, but huge. I looked at the wall to my left. It gave the rental rate for places like this. I saw this place was rather expensive. A smaller place like this was $1,700 per month. A larger one (still maybe as large as this one?) was $2,400.
The woman who had called me sat at a dining table to my right. We headed toward the front door.
Dream 2
I sat by a woman in a big room. There was a lively group of people somewhere in the distance. The woman and I spoke about something smart. Then I turned my attention to a book. I read a little, the first couple paragraphs, which described a car trip, comparing it to some other harrowing or humbling experience.
Somehow I realized the book I was reading was The Grapes of Wrath. I thought, How obvious for someone to be reading The Grapes of Wrath. I thought the girl I was with must have been thinking that I was just trying, in an obvious and pretty conventional way, to look smart in front of her.
I was reading out of a huge anthology, like one I had in college. It had a pale tan paper cover with a little bit of a plastic feel to it. I flipped out of The Grapes of Wrath and tried to find something a little more unique to read.
I found Faulkner's The Wild Palms. I thought, I never realized that I owned a copy of The Wild Palms just by owning this book! But I didn't want to read The Wild Palms, either.
I realized I was just searching aimlessly. I forced myself to put the book away and just work on talking to the woman instead of trying to impress her with what I was reading. It just felt healthier to speak with the woman. I also felt like I was getting too obsessed with reading -- and with reading things I didn't even want to read.
But as I was putting down the book I flipped through the pages. my attention was caught by color plates of paintings by Maxfield Parrish or Edwin Austin Abbey depicting medieval scenes.
The scenes were like covers for pulp paperback novels. One was for a book called Merlin. In the scene, Merlin, a tall, towering man in a red-orange gown) stood with his arms oopen wide at his sides on a mountaintop before a blue sky with thick, brilliant, white clouds.
Another scene was for a book entitled Sir Gawain and XXXXX (possibly Ywain, but possibly not). This scene was like a spotlight on a dark forest.
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