Dream #1
I stood on a street like a main street of a small town. There was a beautiful, orange-metallic sunset that made all the building fronts glow. Something about the building fronts seemed flimsy, like cardboard boxes. I heard my friend R talking, as if he were behind me and to my right (?) but also as if I were imagining this whole scene and hearing him "in real life." R said, "Oh, PK? Isn't he the world economist for your company?" R said this in a way that was supposed to make me feel like I didn't know as much as he did.
I was in a store like a Kmart. The store seemed desolate. I sat or crouched by the back wall, with the wall to my left, looking at a row of boxes lining the wall. The stacks of boxes varied, but none was higher than ten feet tall.
I walked out of some back area and back out to this row of boxes lining the wall. I was carrying an orange-handled (to mark decaf) coffee urn in my left hand. I shuffled back and forth by the shorter stacks of boxes. I was telling someone behind me and to my right that I could find R's statements in a box, is if by opening the box, I would make R's actual voice come out.
I continued the conversation, which soon made me realize I needed to take the coffee urn to the back area. I took it back to the restroom. I saw there was an urn on the floor. I wondered why I'd need to bring this one in if there already was one in this room. I washed the urn in the sink. A small, dead roach fell off from some part of the urn.
Showing posts with label coffee pot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coffee pot. Show all posts
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Sunday, February 24, 2013
(8/7/07) hot dog stand and coffee pot; my sister's birthday
(Entered in paper journal at 5:30 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I walked under a wooden door-frame and into a plaza or hallway full of nice-looking, but cheap, mall-like storefronts, mostly for restaurants. Most of the places were closed. I knew from this that this area wasn't getting as much business as had been expected for it when it had first been developed.
One place was open. I went inside. It was like an old hot dog stand at Coney Island: all the surfaces of stainless steel, etc. A father and his twelve-year-old son worked there. The father stood behind the counter and the son beside the front door. (To get into the place I probably had, once again, to crouch under a half-door-frame in a "wood" wall like the wood-pattern siding on the outside of a double-wide trailer.)
I was offered breakfast -- some candies like peanut butter cups. I took them, figuring I wouldn't know where else to get food.
I stood outside at night. I was in a suburban neighborhood. The land, even the pavement, was rolling with roughly four-foot-tall mounds like a carpet with stuff hucked underneath it. I stood by a sleek, black SUV. I stood with some other people, my mom probably among them.
I had a cream-white (ceramic?) coffee pot with a polished silver top. Inside the pot was something like liquid nitrogen. I had to pour the substance on or in some pipe in the SUV's engine to get the engine running.
But I had just run out of the substance. Someone, possibly my mom, took the coffee pot to go fill it again. I stood with the other people by the SUV. I told them that somehow it seemed like we shouldn't need that second pot after all.
Dream #2
I stood with my mom before an electronic piece of machinery. I had to twist some knobs or gears to manipulate the quality of metals. There may have been construction workers nearby, watching us. I think I had done something wrong, and that people were now laughing at me.
I was riding in an SUV with my mom and my sister. We drove on a bridge like the Manhattan Bridge. The sides of the bridge were mostly covered by orange, mesh material, making the bridge feel like an interior. I may have been sitting in the front passenger's seat. I didn't see as myself. I saw as my sister and sometimes as my mother. Either I or my sister sat in the backseat on the passenger's side.
My mom told my sister why this day (my sister's birthday?) was so good. My mom gave a lot of flattering reasons. I, as my sister, giggled shyly while looking at the dashboard. My mom (I seeing as her) said, "But I love this day most of all because I knew" (I seeing as my sister again) "that Preemie was not in New York City during the World Trade Center attack."
I stood out on the bridge. My mom and sister were in the SUV, which was stopped and facing me.
I stood on the right side of the road, before some electronic equipment like an old record player. One knob in particular, which looked like a coppery version of the base of a record needle's arm, was my focus. I had to thumb down a tiny switch inside to make a change to copper. I thumbed the switch down. I heard a sound somewhere like distorted church bells.
Dream #1
I walked under a wooden door-frame and into a plaza or hallway full of nice-looking, but cheap, mall-like storefronts, mostly for restaurants. Most of the places were closed. I knew from this that this area wasn't getting as much business as had been expected for it when it had first been developed.
One place was open. I went inside. It was like an old hot dog stand at Coney Island: all the surfaces of stainless steel, etc. A father and his twelve-year-old son worked there. The father stood behind the counter and the son beside the front door. (To get into the place I probably had, once again, to crouch under a half-door-frame in a "wood" wall like the wood-pattern siding on the outside of a double-wide trailer.)
I was offered breakfast -- some candies like peanut butter cups. I took them, figuring I wouldn't know where else to get food.
I stood outside at night. I was in a suburban neighborhood. The land, even the pavement, was rolling with roughly four-foot-tall mounds like a carpet with stuff hucked underneath it. I stood by a sleek, black SUV. I stood with some other people, my mom probably among them.
I had a cream-white (ceramic?) coffee pot with a polished silver top. Inside the pot was something like liquid nitrogen. I had to pour the substance on or in some pipe in the SUV's engine to get the engine running.
But I had just run out of the substance. Someone, possibly my mom, took the coffee pot to go fill it again. I stood with the other people by the SUV. I told them that somehow it seemed like we shouldn't need that second pot after all.
Dream #2
I stood with my mom before an electronic piece of machinery. I had to twist some knobs or gears to manipulate the quality of metals. There may have been construction workers nearby, watching us. I think I had done something wrong, and that people were now laughing at me.
I was riding in an SUV with my mom and my sister. We drove on a bridge like the Manhattan Bridge. The sides of the bridge were mostly covered by orange, mesh material, making the bridge feel like an interior. I may have been sitting in the front passenger's seat. I didn't see as myself. I saw as my sister and sometimes as my mother. Either I or my sister sat in the backseat on the passenger's side.
My mom told my sister why this day (my sister's birthday?) was so good. My mom gave a lot of flattering reasons. I, as my sister, giggled shyly while looking at the dashboard. My mom (I seeing as her) said, "But I love this day most of all because I knew" (I seeing as my sister again) "that Preemie was not in New York City during the World Trade Center attack."
I stood out on the bridge. My mom and sister were in the SUV, which was stopped and facing me.
I stood on the right side of the road, before some electronic equipment like an old record player. One knob in particular, which looked like a coppery version of the base of a record needle's arm, was my focus. I had to thumb down a tiny switch inside to make a change to copper. I thumbed the switch down. I heard a sound somewhere like distorted church bells.
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