(Entered in paper journal at 5:50 AM at home in Harlem.)
Dream 1
I sat at something like a picnic bench in a toy store or Walmart that was supposed to be an electronics store. The light was very grey, like only half the lights were working. We were near the back of the customer area, I feel, and I could see an aisle of action figures facing me in the distance. I sat across from a middle-aged, chubby guy. We were both workers. He was teaching me how to get customers to buy more.
I had a device in my hand. It looked like a disc-shaped watch battery hinged by a spring mechanism (or tape?) to what looked like two miniature AA Duracells, so it looked something like a tiny CD Walkman opening. From the disc battery came down three copper lines of an almost intangible thinness that connected to three holes in a circular plate over the mini-AAs. The device was no more than one-third of an inch in diameter.
As the guy spoke, mainly telling me I had to impress customers with what I knew, I accidentally "snapped" one of the copper "wires." It was more like watching a thin tendril of bubblegum dissolve in the wind.
Now a third worker, very "average Joe" and chubby, came up to us with a mother and a son. The second worker said to me, "They want to buy something like that device. Let's show them how it works. Watch my sales routine." He took the device from me.
The kid had a CD Walkman. Apparently the device went into the Walkman. The second worker was saying a few things to the mother about the device. The third worker spontaneously took the left earphone off the boy's head and put his head right next to the boy's to listen to the song. He said, "Hey, I know this song. It's awesome!"
I now understood that the third worker's sales technique was to get chummy with the custmers, to make them feel comfortable and cool. Somehow (either in the dream or after the dream (?)) I knew what my part would be. The second worker would put the device into the Walkman (if I hadn't broken the device), and I in all genuineness would comment on how great the Walkman sounded. The second and third workers would look as each other as if to say, "That's a technique that'll sell things."
My own voice in narration said, "But I didn't care about selling anything, or even the kid. What I wanted was to make love to the mother. At last I've found the woman who can teach me about sexuality."
Now I had a vision of two small junipers (?) on a hillside of thin, balding grass. The junipers may have been bound together by the yellowish cord, though they were still in the ground. Around them was a small, rectangular fence made by four wooden stakes joined by a single line of wire at their tops.
Dream 2
I was in some place like a trailer home, except it was elongated and moving forward like a train. It was all dark except a few ceiling lights pointing light down to two tables like the small lights in trains pint small light down to the seats at night. I sat waiting for dinner, even though I might have been eating dinner already.
Somebody behind me said XXXXX (possibly my mother) was bringing fried chicken. The lady at the table down from mine began laughing. She looked like the evil mother from Ivan Grozny. She said something like "Who eats fried chicken for dinner? What kind of pathetic person would make that for someone?" I laughed now, too. I don't even know why.
Now it was light. The place was much more like a regular kitchen. XXXXX (my mom?) came up behind me with a huge Tupperware container of fried chicken, which had that golden-brown, breaded, homemade look to it. Some pieces were burnt black.
But the surprise of XXXXX coming up with the chicken caused the evil mother to stop laughing. I was thankful. I stopped laughing, too.
Now I saw a big room like a gymnasium. Plenty of light poured in through the top windows. A man stood in the gymnasium. He was walking to a door. I saw this like I was floating. But I also heard someone like the evil mother or Jade Fox from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon narrating, "Now he'll pay for insulting what I offered him."
She was behind some narrow slits in the back wall. She cried a name like Ua or Uat. The man turned around and didn't see anybody. It was like the voice had come from a floating position, too. The man turned to walk away and then turned back quickly and made some kicking and swinging motions before landing on his back and kick-springing. I now saw that he had deflected a number of poison darts. But he hadn't gotten them all. The man stood up and staggered a second before "shaking off" the poison and heading toward the vents to fight.
But now from somewhere else a whole bunch of darts spiked into the man's back. I saw all this now as if I was by the door, in the darkness of the next room. The man stood still for a moment, then flinched and convulsed violently. He fell down to the ground on his stomach, floundering, almost to "U" shapes before finally dying.
I was now walking down a hallway, in the blue moonlight, telling myself I had to call the police or escape the house or fight the killer. I was horribly afraid. I almost headed into a bedroom. But I turned and walked down the hallway again, to the kitchen.
The fridge door was open. I looked over it and saw a young, thick, Hispanic woman kneeling and looking into the fridge, which seemed to have a huge, cardboard box in it. This woman was the killer, the "evil mother," the "Jade Fox."
I said, as if possessed, "Hello, m-m-Master." She stood and smiled like a ditzy seductress. She closed the fridge door. Now we were in the living room. She told me we were preparing to kill more people, but that we might also have to escape.
It was now morning, possibly a wintry one. A woman knocked on the door. She was white haired, a bit pear-shaped, with a black dress and some kind of earthy, colorful scarf. She was "the social worker," and she was here to prove we had murdered someone.
The living room seems to have been lined with pastel couches and wide windows. The young woman and I sat in couches and mutely stared at the ground while the social worker harangued us about "taking a precious life." The social worker was trying to make us feel guilty so we'd confess without her having to investigate. But it wouldn't work. Neither of us really cared about "precious life."
Now the "bad guy" cop burst in. He was muscular, thick, with a wormy head topped with thin, pale blonde hair. He wore a black leather jacket. He yelled all sorts of weird threats and taunts at us.
In the center of the room now was huge, pot-like, leathery bag hanging down from four rough ropes. This bag was full of blood, possibly with a dead body floating in it.
The bad guy cop now yelled at me that he could prove some things about me, at least, and take away a lot of privileges I have right now.he thought he'd get me upset so he could fight me and kick my ass.
I was upset. I rushed up, knocked the cop down against the pot/bag, and twisted his face with my right hand. I twisted and twisted until I heard cracking. Then I threw the bad guy cop into the pot/bag. I had somehow managed to disconnect most of his face from his skull and most of his head from his neck.
Almost completely submerged in blood and floating body parts, the cop shouted, "You've fucked up! You've fought against me! Now I know you did it. You're gonna be locked away!"
I shouted, "Shut up! You're dead, man! Just relax and die!"
I lifted up his head. It slid right off his neck. Then I turned his face toward the water. It plopped right out of and off of his skull. I turned the head back toward me and saw the empty, bloody cavity.
Showing posts with label decapitation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label decapitation. Show all posts
Saturday, March 11, 2017
Thursday, March 2, 2017
(9/2/05) joyless euphoria
(Entered in paper journal at 7:15 AM at Starbucks on 86th Street and Lexington Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I was in a bedroom, half of which was more like an empty, sheet metal-walled warehouse. The bedroom part was bedroom-sized, and the warehouse part was warehouse-sized. There were five or six couches close together, heaped and draped with disheveled blankets. At first I sat on the floor, legs folded lazily under me.
My friend R, somewhere, possibly walking behind the couches, said how when he had gone out last night with some of our mutual friends from college, that BMC had (to R's delight) played out some personal joke to the point where everybody was yelling at him to shut up.
I thought this was funny at first. But then I realized that I hadn't been told anything about our friends planing to hang out. In fact, R had asked me earlier in the day if I had any plans for later on. I had told him no. He asked me if I could, then, stay home (to watch his dog?) and I said yes. So he had tricked me to stay at home instead of going out with our friends.
R was now sitting on a couch, covered in some blankets. I told him, "You know you did that to me! You asshole!" R just sneered and chuckled and didn't look at me, as if he didn't have to.
I told him, "Don't ever do that again or you'll regret it."
R said, "I'll never regret anything."
I got right in R's face (although now he was something like a sort of pretty woman dressed as a Monty Python parody of an old woman) and I pointed at "him" and yelled, "I'll punch you in your face! I'll bust your goddamn eyes! I'll do it right now! You deserve it right now!"
"He" still didn't even look at me. "He" said, ""You'll regret that, if you do that."
I screamed and pulled "him" off the couch. It was like I was mostly grabbing blankets. Then I threw some naked person onto the ground. It was like a face-down version of me. But it "was" "R's mom."
I yelled, as if screaming in R's ear, that I was going to fuck his mom now that I had kicked his ass. I had flipped the person over. It was now something like a headless version of a boy or a girl. But in some sense it was a beautiful woman about my age. I straddled the "woman" (who I think was now facing down again).
The room was all living room now. It was small and bright, with one couch and one TV.
I hesitated over penetrating the "woman," going into her vagina as she lay stomach down with her legs closed. The tip of my penis hurt. I felt like I had warm goo all over me from my inner thighs up to my bellybutton. Then I had an orgasm. I pulled myself out I sat at the "woman's" feet. There were two stomach-down bodies now. I was in between them.
Now some black and white photo of a red-haired, crew-cut, redneck-looking bully appeared before me. A voice asked me something about my violent behavior. It compared me to (Eminem?) and said the name strangely.
I was still feeling the joyless euphoria of orgasm, which also contained some undertones of a savage blood lust. It was like I was a murderous animal listening to the seemingly meaningless speech of a human.
The voice repeated the name again and again. As it did I became more and more aware of myself. Something in the photo changed as well, as if an invisible camera swipe were slowly being lowered over it. I thought the photo would take on color. But it stayed black and white.
The more the name repeated, the more aware of myself I became, the more I was ashamed of what I had done. But I also felt more and more of a surge toward orgasm again -- once again, no pleasure, just that insect-like euphoria.
Now I was fully aware, almost as if I had woken from a dream, and I ejaculated, almost terrified that now I'd never be able to change who I was.
Dream 1
I was in a bedroom, half of which was more like an empty, sheet metal-walled warehouse. The bedroom part was bedroom-sized, and the warehouse part was warehouse-sized. There were five or six couches close together, heaped and draped with disheveled blankets. At first I sat on the floor, legs folded lazily under me.
My friend R, somewhere, possibly walking behind the couches, said how when he had gone out last night with some of our mutual friends from college, that BMC had (to R's delight) played out some personal joke to the point where everybody was yelling at him to shut up.
I thought this was funny at first. But then I realized that I hadn't been told anything about our friends planing to hang out. In fact, R had asked me earlier in the day if I had any plans for later on. I had told him no. He asked me if I could, then, stay home (to watch his dog?) and I said yes. So he had tricked me to stay at home instead of going out with our friends.
R was now sitting on a couch, covered in some blankets. I told him, "You know you did that to me! You asshole!" R just sneered and chuckled and didn't look at me, as if he didn't have to.
I told him, "Don't ever do that again or you'll regret it."
R said, "I'll never regret anything."
I got right in R's face (although now he was something like a sort of pretty woman dressed as a Monty Python parody of an old woman) and I pointed at "him" and yelled, "I'll punch you in your face! I'll bust your goddamn eyes! I'll do it right now! You deserve it right now!"
"He" still didn't even look at me. "He" said, ""You'll regret that, if you do that."
I screamed and pulled "him" off the couch. It was like I was mostly grabbing blankets. Then I threw some naked person onto the ground. It was like a face-down version of me. But it "was" "R's mom."
I yelled, as if screaming in R's ear, that I was going to fuck his mom now that I had kicked his ass. I had flipped the person over. It was now something like a headless version of a boy or a girl. But in some sense it was a beautiful woman about my age. I straddled the "woman" (who I think was now facing down again).
The room was all living room now. It was small and bright, with one couch and one TV.
I hesitated over penetrating the "woman," going into her vagina as she lay stomach down with her legs closed. The tip of my penis hurt. I felt like I had warm goo all over me from my inner thighs up to my bellybutton. Then I had an orgasm. I pulled myself out I sat at the "woman's" feet. There were two stomach-down bodies now. I was in between them.
Now some black and white photo of a red-haired, crew-cut, redneck-looking bully appeared before me. A voice asked me something about my violent behavior. It compared me to (Eminem?) and said the name strangely.
I was still feeling the joyless euphoria of orgasm, which also contained some undertones of a savage blood lust. It was like I was a murderous animal listening to the seemingly meaningless speech of a human.
The voice repeated the name again and again. As it did I became more and more aware of myself. Something in the photo changed as well, as if an invisible camera swipe were slowly being lowered over it. I thought the photo would take on color. But it stayed black and white.
The more the name repeated, the more aware of myself I became, the more I was ashamed of what I had done. But I also felt more and more of a surge toward orgasm again -- once again, no pleasure, just that insect-like euphoria.
Now I was fully aware, almost as if I had woken from a dream, and I ejaculated, almost terrified that now I'd never be able to change who I was.
Sunday, February 12, 2017
(7/27/06) beautiful building and woman; i don't even like her!; shark rabies
(Entered in paper journal at 6:43 AM on B-train from 7th Avenue in Brooklyn to Rockefeller Center in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
A beautiful building in something like an Art Nouveau style. Pinkish bricks in a round battlement configuration. Beige-goldenrod stone arches moving inward toward the doors and windows. The "battlement" structure maybe three/four stories high. From that, a brick "tower" like a smokestack.
Evening. A beautiful woman standing before me and looking at me.
Dream 2
My friends R, L, and maybe CV were in a dim grocery store that faded toward the front into a living room. R and L were talking about some woman CV had had sex with, like I was supposed to be jealous. But they wouldn't tell me who the woman was. Finally I pieced together that it was L's sister A.
I stood by the vegetables (where we had all been standing before) and said, "That's supposed to make me jealous? I don't even like A!"
Dream 3
I was swimming in "the ocean" on a sunny day. There were small waves. I was standing on the beach, on a tall, sandy hill high above and at least one hundred meters away from the water. I was with a group of people, all having fun, probably putting on sunscreen before heading into the water. There was a big trailer somewhere. It provided shade somewhere.
A couple big, blonde, tan, cheerful guys jogged down to the water. One (red shorts, though I feel I only saw his right shoulder) joked at the other, "I always go in first and then you go in. But you always say we'll go in together."
A group of girls giggled at the guys statement and ran off to the right to head into the water (the guys had run straight forward, down the hill). I walked behind them, passing a very pretty, tiny-bodied girl in a swimsuit that appeared to be made out of basket wicker, beige with some gentle, blue, sky-like design.
The girls jumped off some stone ledge and into the water. When I got to the ledge I noticed how far down it was to the water. I was afraid to jump, but I did. Somehow my body stretched so I kept one foot on the ledge while the rest of me extended way out over and finally into the water (at which point I turned to my "regular size" again).
I played around in the water, which I wasn't sure was ocean water. The water was so brown, it couldn't be ocean water. And I had jumped into the water from a tall ledge that was more like a river's bank than an ocean shore or cliff.
I worried about sharks. I swam around and tried not to worry. I imagined myself as a squid. I put my head under the water, closed my eyes, and just imagined my body flowing like a squid's body. Then I heard my mom talking about how if sharks bite you, you get rabies.
I was in a car with my family. My mom drove. She was talking about how my oldest nephew and XXXXX needed to get their their rabies shots or she would get arrested for neglect.
We drove through a gas station and then (it was night) before a wide, tall, square apartment complex behind which was an enormous tree and the final eggshell blue and pale gas purple of the horizon. We drove down a skinny street which ended at a gate.
I saw a man's severed head in my imagination. I knew you got your head cut off after you got rabies. I had thought earlier about getting myself some rabies shots. Now I wondered something about getting my head replaced.
Dream 1
A beautiful building in something like an Art Nouveau style. Pinkish bricks in a round battlement configuration. Beige-goldenrod stone arches moving inward toward the doors and windows. The "battlement" structure maybe three/four stories high. From that, a brick "tower" like a smokestack.
Evening. A beautiful woman standing before me and looking at me.
Dream 2
My friends R, L, and maybe CV were in a dim grocery store that faded toward the front into a living room. R and L were talking about some woman CV had had sex with, like I was supposed to be jealous. But they wouldn't tell me who the woman was. Finally I pieced together that it was L's sister A.
I stood by the vegetables (where we had all been standing before) and said, "That's supposed to make me jealous? I don't even like A!"
Dream 3
I was swimming in "the ocean" on a sunny day. There were small waves. I was standing on the beach, on a tall, sandy hill high above and at least one hundred meters away from the water. I was with a group of people, all having fun, probably putting on sunscreen before heading into the water. There was a big trailer somewhere. It provided shade somewhere.
A couple big, blonde, tan, cheerful guys jogged down to the water. One (red shorts, though I feel I only saw his right shoulder) joked at the other, "I always go in first and then you go in. But you always say we'll go in together."
A group of girls giggled at the guys statement and ran off to the right to head into the water (the guys had run straight forward, down the hill). I walked behind them, passing a very pretty, tiny-bodied girl in a swimsuit that appeared to be made out of basket wicker, beige with some gentle, blue, sky-like design.
The girls jumped off some stone ledge and into the water. When I got to the ledge I noticed how far down it was to the water. I was afraid to jump, but I did. Somehow my body stretched so I kept one foot on the ledge while the rest of me extended way out over and finally into the water (at which point I turned to my "regular size" again).
I played around in the water, which I wasn't sure was ocean water. The water was so brown, it couldn't be ocean water. And I had jumped into the water from a tall ledge that was more like a river's bank than an ocean shore or cliff.
I worried about sharks. I swam around and tried not to worry. I imagined myself as a squid. I put my head under the water, closed my eyes, and just imagined my body flowing like a squid's body. Then I heard my mom talking about how if sharks bite you, you get rabies.
I was in a car with my family. My mom drove. She was talking about how my oldest nephew and XXXXX needed to get their their rabies shots or she would get arrested for neglect.
We drove through a gas station and then (it was night) before a wide, tall, square apartment complex behind which was an enormous tree and the final eggshell blue and pale gas purple of the horizon. We drove down a skinny street which ended at a gate.
I saw a man's severed head in my imagination. I knew you got your head cut off after you got rabies. I had thought earlier about getting myself some rabies shots. Now I wondered something about getting my head replaced.
(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.
Monday, February 6, 2017
(10/1/16) angry spying neighbors; superman & helicopter crash; wedding bridges
(Entered in paper journal at 5:45 AM at home in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I sat in a huge but incredibly messy house (possibly my mom had given it to me while she was away). I tried to eat. But someone saw into the place from a window above me, i.e. through the window from a high floor in an apartment. The person started yelling and screaming nasty things at me, making me afraid to eat.
I ran through a cavernous, cluttered house until I got to the bedroom. The bed was high-stacked with mattresses. I tried to eat again, but the person from high up saw me through another window and shouted nasty, scary things again.
I sat down, possibly somewhere else, lay down, shielded myself on the floor with a bunch of clutter so I couldn't be seen, possibly also behind a very thin strip of wall. I thought, now I can relax.
I pulled out a report of some kind (perhaps a 10-K, the financial report publicly traded companies publish yearly). I read a few pages. I was so relaxed I almost fell asleep.
I thought, If I'm going to fall asleep, I should go to the bedroom. But, taking every sheltered path I could back to the bedroom, I knew I had to make the bedroom different from the room where the people could see in through the window.
Dream 2
I was on a lawn by a bridge. I was with some other people. I knew an airplane was going to crash. I stood up and got away. Nobody would come with me. A helicopter crashed to the ground, right where I had been sitting/laying. I thought, I guess I knew after all. I thought, I guess I knew after all.
I ran back to my spot. I thought, You coward. Why did you just run away from the helicopter after it crashed? Were you afraid it would explode? It will explode. But there are people inside that you need to rescue! I ran away from my sitting spot and back to the helicopter (as if now the helicopter had crashed away from the spot I had been sitting at).
I was now Superman. I pulled open the doors to the (blue?) helicopter and pulled out a man and a woman. I super-sped them back to where I'd been sitting.
Dream 3
At first there wasn't enough money for a wedding to occur. Now a man announced amid everybody in a scrappy living room that there was.
I saw the man a while later as everybody was prepping for the wedding. The man had now become Willem Dafoe's character from The Life Aquatic. His back was against the wall and he was breathing rapidly. I thought he was going to have a heart attack.
I saw into a special room of the man's -- full of chopped-off heads cured and hanging on the wall. I thought, Is this what he does to people at weddings?
I walked downstairs with someone videotaping the house as the man stood against the wall. I saw through the camera as the cameraman panned counterclockwise. There were beautiful walls and doorways. I wanted to see the pan again.
Someone told me, "The cameraman will only go so far with you. He won't go all the way into the next country." I thought, I wasn't asking him to.
I saw a gothically tall bridge in a tall city at night. The night was a dark purple-orange city night. The bridge streamed with the white light of cars.
I was walking on a planky bridge in the daytime. A man stood to my left, his back against a chain link fence. I had water on the sole of my right shoe. I knew that made me not quite ready for the mission I must take with the man.
I saw a trail of wet footprints crossing mine. On my right was a nice wood fence with a paper cup of water nailed to it. It was my cup. Someone had put something beside water in it. I wondered who would have done that.
Dream 1
I sat in a huge but incredibly messy house (possibly my mom had given it to me while she was away). I tried to eat. But someone saw into the place from a window above me, i.e. through the window from a high floor in an apartment. The person started yelling and screaming nasty things at me, making me afraid to eat.
I ran through a cavernous, cluttered house until I got to the bedroom. The bed was high-stacked with mattresses. I tried to eat again, but the person from high up saw me through another window and shouted nasty, scary things again.
I sat down, possibly somewhere else, lay down, shielded myself on the floor with a bunch of clutter so I couldn't be seen, possibly also behind a very thin strip of wall. I thought, now I can relax.
I pulled out a report of some kind (perhaps a 10-K, the financial report publicly traded companies publish yearly). I read a few pages. I was so relaxed I almost fell asleep.
I thought, If I'm going to fall asleep, I should go to the bedroom. But, taking every sheltered path I could back to the bedroom, I knew I had to make the bedroom different from the room where the people could see in through the window.
Dream 2
I was on a lawn by a bridge. I was with some other people. I knew an airplane was going to crash. I stood up and got away. Nobody would come with me. A helicopter crashed to the ground, right where I had been sitting/laying. I thought, I guess I knew after all. I thought, I guess I knew after all.
I ran back to my spot. I thought, You coward. Why did you just run away from the helicopter after it crashed? Were you afraid it would explode? It will explode. But there are people inside that you need to rescue! I ran away from my sitting spot and back to the helicopter (as if now the helicopter had crashed away from the spot I had been sitting at).
I was now Superman. I pulled open the doors to the (blue?) helicopter and pulled out a man and a woman. I super-sped them back to where I'd been sitting.
Dream 3
At first there wasn't enough money for a wedding to occur. Now a man announced amid everybody in a scrappy living room that there was.
I saw the man a while later as everybody was prepping for the wedding. The man had now become Willem Dafoe's character from The Life Aquatic. His back was against the wall and he was breathing rapidly. I thought he was going to have a heart attack.
I saw into a special room of the man's -- full of chopped-off heads cured and hanging on the wall. I thought, Is this what he does to people at weddings?
I walked downstairs with someone videotaping the house as the man stood against the wall. I saw through the camera as the cameraman panned counterclockwise. There were beautiful walls and doorways. I wanted to see the pan again.
Someone told me, "The cameraman will only go so far with you. He won't go all the way into the next country." I thought, I wasn't asking him to.
I saw a gothically tall bridge in a tall city at night. The night was a dark purple-orange city night. The bridge streamed with the white light of cars.
I was walking on a planky bridge in the daytime. A man stood to my left, his back against a chain link fence. I had water on the sole of my right shoe. I knew that made me not quite ready for the mission I must take with the man.
I saw a trail of wet footprints crossing mine. On my right was a nice wood fence with a paper cup of water nailed to it. It was my cup. Someone had put something beside water in it. I wondered who would have done that.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
(9/11/07) my dad the murderer; gnear thalk; we really want to talk
(Entered in paper journal at 6:30 AM on B-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
My dad may have been accused of a murder. He was now coming to take me, my brother, and my sister to dinner. I lived in my own house, so they would pick me up. I sat in a room of my house, which was empty except a little clutter, a box of which I sat on.
I spoke on the cell phone with my mom. I told my mom, "I can't sit in a restaurant with that guy! Everybody'll be staring at us and asking us questions the whole time!" I imagined big, fat faces crowding all around my dad, my brother, my sister, and I at the restaurant. The faces all looked like obese versions of a mid-twentieth-century, cruel stereotype of Chinese faces.
I pulled the phone away from my left ear. The display was so colorful and bright. The main colors were blue.
My mom (or sister?) asked through the phone, "Your phone hasn't worked in all this time. Why is it working now that you need to tell us you don't want to see your dad?"
I thought to myself, Wow. They're right. How did my phone start working again?
Dream #2
A woman had gone missing, and two men had found that she had killed herself. They found her in a vacant lot of pale tan soil on a clear, blue day. She was a black girl, tall, thin, with brown skin and shortish, spiky, dark-blonde hair. she had slit her throat and lay in a big pool of blood. She lay in a fetal position on her right side.
The men now stood before a camera (still in the lot, still on a blue day) talking about how it was to find the body. The men were both oldish, a little dumpy, white, with big, round eyes.
The scene of discovery happened again, like for the first time. This time the woman was completely decapitated, her head lying three or four feet from her body. The view panned back up to the two men, who said, "Imagine our shock. Even if she had survived, what kind of life would that have been? Her arms were chopped to the elbows, her legs were gone..."
I now crouched in a library, in between a shelf and a wall. The space was narrow, about three feet wide at most. I had a big book held directly in front of my face. I crouched, relaxed, with my knees against my chest. My sister sat to my left, leaning against my legs.
My oldest nephew came walking from right to left along the aisle and stomped on my sister's legs. It hurt my sister.
I felt helpless to retaliate on behalf of my sister. But I didn't want it to happen to her again. So I told her to sit a special way. She sat pretty much the same way as before, but now she was naked.
I heard a weird story narrated now, by my sister -- not voiced from her physical body, but from a narration in my head. My sister said, "I wouldn't let anybody kiss my boobs before him. But this was very important to him." I had a feeling that the "him" was me. I thought, How could that be? Why would I do something like that to my sister?
My view floated all around the library, slowly, as if some disembodied I were walking around the library.
I heard myself and a friend, like my old friend R, speaking in my head. We were trying to decipher a phrase: "gnear talk." It was in a series of new phrases young kids were using nowadays. I saw the list of new colloquialisms before my mind's eye for a moment.
I thought, Well, "thalk" is a hot walk -- so hot it thaws you. And "gnear" is what you say when a girl is so close you can feel her loveliness. It's as if you were saying, "Gee, she's near," or "g-near," to make "gnear" (except that the "g" was pronounced hard, not soft).
Dream #3
I had a dinner or a breakfast at a place that was supposed to be the apartment of my old friend R and his fiancee L. We sat at a huge table that was littered with items like vases. Everything seemed very disordered. I was surprised to have been here. I thought, These guys aren't mad at me anymore! I felt relieved.
L said, "Come back soon. We really want to talk with you again."
I couldn't tell whether that were true. I looked at R. He looked unpleasantly surprised to see me here. I could tell he was already trying to find a way to keep me from coming back.
Dream #1
My dad may have been accused of a murder. He was now coming to take me, my brother, and my sister to dinner. I lived in my own house, so they would pick me up. I sat in a room of my house, which was empty except a little clutter, a box of which I sat on.
I spoke on the cell phone with my mom. I told my mom, "I can't sit in a restaurant with that guy! Everybody'll be staring at us and asking us questions the whole time!" I imagined big, fat faces crowding all around my dad, my brother, my sister, and I at the restaurant. The faces all looked like obese versions of a mid-twentieth-century, cruel stereotype of Chinese faces.
I pulled the phone away from my left ear. The display was so colorful and bright. The main colors were blue.
My mom (or sister?) asked through the phone, "Your phone hasn't worked in all this time. Why is it working now that you need to tell us you don't want to see your dad?"
I thought to myself, Wow. They're right. How did my phone start working again?
Dream #2
A woman had gone missing, and two men had found that she had killed herself. They found her in a vacant lot of pale tan soil on a clear, blue day. She was a black girl, tall, thin, with brown skin and shortish, spiky, dark-blonde hair. she had slit her throat and lay in a big pool of blood. She lay in a fetal position on her right side.
The men now stood before a camera (still in the lot, still on a blue day) talking about how it was to find the body. The men were both oldish, a little dumpy, white, with big, round eyes.
The scene of discovery happened again, like for the first time. This time the woman was completely decapitated, her head lying three or four feet from her body. The view panned back up to the two men, who said, "Imagine our shock. Even if she had survived, what kind of life would that have been? Her arms were chopped to the elbows, her legs were gone..."
I now crouched in a library, in between a shelf and a wall. The space was narrow, about three feet wide at most. I had a big book held directly in front of my face. I crouched, relaxed, with my knees against my chest. My sister sat to my left, leaning against my legs.
My oldest nephew came walking from right to left along the aisle and stomped on my sister's legs. It hurt my sister.
I felt helpless to retaliate on behalf of my sister. But I didn't want it to happen to her again. So I told her to sit a special way. She sat pretty much the same way as before, but now she was naked.
I heard a weird story narrated now, by my sister -- not voiced from her physical body, but from a narration in my head. My sister said, "I wouldn't let anybody kiss my boobs before him. But this was very important to him." I had a feeling that the "him" was me. I thought, How could that be? Why would I do something like that to my sister?
My view floated all around the library, slowly, as if some disembodied I were walking around the library.
I heard myself and a friend, like my old friend R, speaking in my head. We were trying to decipher a phrase: "gnear talk." It was in a series of new phrases young kids were using nowadays. I saw the list of new colloquialisms before my mind's eye for a moment.
I thought, Well, "thalk" is a hot walk -- so hot it thaws you. And "gnear" is what you say when a girl is so close you can feel her loveliness. It's as if you were saying, "Gee, she's near," or "g-near," to make "gnear" (except that the "g" was pronounced hard, not soft).
Dream #3
I had a dinner or a breakfast at a place that was supposed to be the apartment of my old friend R and his fiancee L. We sat at a huge table that was littered with items like vases. Everything seemed very disordered. I was surprised to have been here. I thought, These guys aren't mad at me anymore! I felt relieved.
L said, "Come back soon. We really want to talk with you again."
I couldn't tell whether that were true. I looked at R. He looked unpleasantly surprised to see me here. I could tell he was already trying to find a way to keep me from coming back.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
(7/4/08) frank sinatra duet; the grey finger; a beautiful tree
(Entered in paper journal at 8:51 AM at Flying Saucer cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was in a dim cafe or bar. The area was moderately full with people sitting in folding chairs. The people were gathered around a duet that was playing saxophones. One man was black. The other man may have been Frank Sinatra. I seemed to be sitting amid a group of old women.
At some point I got up and walked outside the bar. Then I came back in. The audience seemed less full now. I stood in front of the Frank Sinatra man. The man's saxophone looked like a brass instrument combined with an electric keyboard.
The Frank Sinatra man stopped playing at some point and said something like, "We monitor people very closely. We need to see how serious they are about things before we just start teaching them."
I was outside, on a hill in a desert area during the daytime. I was with a group of people. We were walking down a wide, stone stairway (maybe granite?). I was near the front of the group, my old friend R and I slowly bringing some large, wheeled items like strollers down the steps.
At some point, a woman behind me commented how well I brought the items down the steps. I said something like, "I learned my technique from R."
But now the steps were becoming increasingly shallower (i.e. for foot length, but still staying wide breadth-wise) and increasingly taller. I had to slow down just to get my balance so I could let the thing down to the next step. I started feeling vertigo. I looked ahead. R was ahead of me by a few steps. He didn't seem to be having any problems. I was worried what all the people behind me would think.
But now I was losing balance that the thing and I were floating in the air in front of a step. I had a feeling I would fall hard if I didn't soon find solid ground at my height.
I floated to my right and grabbed onto the branch of a barren tree. It might actually have been the trunk of a limbless tree hunched over the edge of the stairway. I climbed to my right, over to the hillside beside the stairway.
As I did this, someone, possibly my mom, was talking to me about how sick Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis was, and how sad it would be when she died. I thought I should tell the person that Jackie O was already dead. But now I couldn't remember whether that were actually true.
I dropped a few inches to the ground and stood on dry soil, maybe cinders, with dry, tan clumps of grass and colorful flowers around me. There were a few people on the staircase around my level.
I might have climbed back onto the staircase. But now I was climbing out from a shady area that had been carved into the staircase. I climbed out from behind a tombstone that stood before the space and continued walking down the steps.
Dream #2
I sat in a movie theater with a woman who sat to my left. The movie theater was full and the movie had begun. The woman was visibly annoyed and finally told me why. I looked at her. A big, grey hand kept poking the back of the woman's neck (the woman's neck being bandaged all the way around, in a thin strip, like in the stories of the woman with secretly severed and barely reattached heads).
I was very afraid. By the looks of the hand, the man annoying the woman must have been huge. But I grabbed the finger and held it still. I told the man to stop poking the woman.
I looked behind the woman. It was now like dim light was on in the theater. The man was now copper-skinned, a little worn-out looking, middle-aged, and fattish. He wore sunglasses. He was less threatening-looking than the dark-grey monster he had seemed to be before. But I was now somehow afraid to approach him at all.
Dream #3
I was walking or in a vehicle on a sunny day. I passed by a beautiful tree. The tree was bare but budding. The branches were a deep, smooth crimson. The buds were profuse. They were big and fuzzy, like magnolia buds. But they were a pale, rich beige. The tree glowed against the deep blue sky.
Dream #1
I was in a dim cafe or bar. The area was moderately full with people sitting in folding chairs. The people were gathered around a duet that was playing saxophones. One man was black. The other man may have been Frank Sinatra. I seemed to be sitting amid a group of old women.
At some point I got up and walked outside the bar. Then I came back in. The audience seemed less full now. I stood in front of the Frank Sinatra man. The man's saxophone looked like a brass instrument combined with an electric keyboard.
The Frank Sinatra man stopped playing at some point and said something like, "We monitor people very closely. We need to see how serious they are about things before we just start teaching them."
I was outside, on a hill in a desert area during the daytime. I was with a group of people. We were walking down a wide, stone stairway (maybe granite?). I was near the front of the group, my old friend R and I slowly bringing some large, wheeled items like strollers down the steps.
At some point, a woman behind me commented how well I brought the items down the steps. I said something like, "I learned my technique from R."
But now the steps were becoming increasingly shallower (i.e. for foot length, but still staying wide breadth-wise) and increasingly taller. I had to slow down just to get my balance so I could let the thing down to the next step. I started feeling vertigo. I looked ahead. R was ahead of me by a few steps. He didn't seem to be having any problems. I was worried what all the people behind me would think.
But now I was losing balance that the thing and I were floating in the air in front of a step. I had a feeling I would fall hard if I didn't soon find solid ground at my height.
I floated to my right and grabbed onto the branch of a barren tree. It might actually have been the trunk of a limbless tree hunched over the edge of the stairway. I climbed to my right, over to the hillside beside the stairway.
As I did this, someone, possibly my mom, was talking to me about how sick Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis was, and how sad it would be when she died. I thought I should tell the person that Jackie O was already dead. But now I couldn't remember whether that were actually true.
I dropped a few inches to the ground and stood on dry soil, maybe cinders, with dry, tan clumps of grass and colorful flowers around me. There were a few people on the staircase around my level.
I might have climbed back onto the staircase. But now I was climbing out from a shady area that had been carved into the staircase. I climbed out from behind a tombstone that stood before the space and continued walking down the steps.
Dream #2
I sat in a movie theater with a woman who sat to my left. The movie theater was full and the movie had begun. The woman was visibly annoyed and finally told me why. I looked at her. A big, grey hand kept poking the back of the woman's neck (the woman's neck being bandaged all the way around, in a thin strip, like in the stories of the woman with secretly severed and barely reattached heads).
I was very afraid. By the looks of the hand, the man annoying the woman must have been huge. But I grabbed the finger and held it still. I told the man to stop poking the woman.
I looked behind the woman. It was now like dim light was on in the theater. The man was now copper-skinned, a little worn-out looking, middle-aged, and fattish. He wore sunglasses. He was less threatening-looking than the dark-grey monster he had seemed to be before. But I was now somehow afraid to approach him at all.
Dream #3
I was walking or in a vehicle on a sunny day. I passed by a beautiful tree. The tree was bare but budding. The branches were a deep, smooth crimson. The buds were profuse. They were big and fuzzy, like magnolia buds. But they were a pale, rich beige. The tree glowed against the deep blue sky.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
(1/21/10) the ghost and the murderess
Dream #1
I walked down a city sidewalk, on the left side of the street. It was early morning, dark, with a deep blue sky overhead. I came up to a taped-off area of sidewalk. To my right, behind the tape, was a big, heavy tower of something like scaffold. I looked up and saw a heavy load of something like thick boards or thick, metal plates hanging from a cord, as if the top of this tower were a crane.
I was afraid that the load would fall on me. I didn't cross the tape. I walked into the street, past the tower, then back to the sidewalk. But now I saw that there was another tower before me. I was still afraid that the load behind me would fall and crush me. But now I was also afraid that the load before me would crush me.
I flew up into the air. I was now level with the loads. The towers around the loads were like makeshift floors of wooden boards. The place felt very much like an active construction area. I floated between the two towers. Both towers seemed, now, to be set flush against the face of the building. The second tower stood near the corner of the building.
A tall, strong, round-bodied, round-headed, black man wearing overalls (no shirt?) walked around the corner. When I saw him, I started yelling things at him, things that I thought would make me sound like a ghost or a demon. I thought that I was invisible, but that I could still be heard. I was trying to scare the man, as if to pay him back for his having scared me.
The man seemed either not to hear me or to hear me only slightly. He stopped and looked forward, as if trying to figure out whether he actually was hearing something.
I was now in a kind of small, slightly shabby bedroom. The room was lit somewhat brightly by incandescent light. I was with someone else, possibly a woman. We were shuffling through a loose scattering of papers and pamphlets which lay on the bed. We either stood before or sat on the bed.
The papers and pamphlets were all about grotesque events, probably all murders and serial murders, and possibly all about one woman who had committed these murders. I looked through a number of these pamphlets. The text and margins were blue or red and looked like Chinese take-out menus or old Christian pamphlets for witnessing.
I picked up one pamphlet. A photo on the front showed a dead person's face. The face was black with decay. The skin of the face was shrunken with decay, but it also seemed to be stuffed into the mouth of the face. The head had a few strands of almost colorless, but not pale, blondeish hair.
I turned through the pages. Another photo showed a bone that had been broken in half and placed into a clear, crystal glass of water. The glass had a thick base of cut, niched crystal. I either read or knew that the murderess would take the bones of her victims and put them in water to clean off all the flesh, which the woman possibly thought of as the only evidence of her guilt.
I turned to another photo. It was of the woman. She, too, stood over a bed. She looked like a woman from the early twentieth or late nineteenth century. Her dress was very plain, long-sleeved, tight around the woman's top, with the skirt curtaining slightly outward. The woman's hairstyle was close, but "bunned" outward. The woman had a pale, oval face and wide, pale, severe eyes.
The woman started talking and moving. She was pointing to something on the bed, possibly the dead body the face of which was the subject of the first photo. The woman yelled something about how I'd discovered her and how I wasn't supposed to discover her.
I was suddenly afraid. I felt like I was in the woman's house right now, and like she was now sneaking around to get ready to kill me. But I was also afraid that, since I had seen so much about the woman, that the murderous impulse would also infect me, and that I would soon be like her.
I walked down a city sidewalk, on the left side of the street. It was early morning, dark, with a deep blue sky overhead. I came up to a taped-off area of sidewalk. To my right, behind the tape, was a big, heavy tower of something like scaffold. I looked up and saw a heavy load of something like thick boards or thick, metal plates hanging from a cord, as if the top of this tower were a crane.
I was afraid that the load would fall on me. I didn't cross the tape. I walked into the street, past the tower, then back to the sidewalk. But now I saw that there was another tower before me. I was still afraid that the load behind me would fall and crush me. But now I was also afraid that the load before me would crush me.
I flew up into the air. I was now level with the loads. The towers around the loads were like makeshift floors of wooden boards. The place felt very much like an active construction area. I floated between the two towers. Both towers seemed, now, to be set flush against the face of the building. The second tower stood near the corner of the building.
A tall, strong, round-bodied, round-headed, black man wearing overalls (no shirt?) walked around the corner. When I saw him, I started yelling things at him, things that I thought would make me sound like a ghost or a demon. I thought that I was invisible, but that I could still be heard. I was trying to scare the man, as if to pay him back for his having scared me.
The man seemed either not to hear me or to hear me only slightly. He stopped and looked forward, as if trying to figure out whether he actually was hearing something.
I was now in a kind of small, slightly shabby bedroom. The room was lit somewhat brightly by incandescent light. I was with someone else, possibly a woman. We were shuffling through a loose scattering of papers and pamphlets which lay on the bed. We either stood before or sat on the bed.
The papers and pamphlets were all about grotesque events, probably all murders and serial murders, and possibly all about one woman who had committed these murders. I looked through a number of these pamphlets. The text and margins were blue or red and looked like Chinese take-out menus or old Christian pamphlets for witnessing.
I picked up one pamphlet. A photo on the front showed a dead person's face. The face was black with decay. The skin of the face was shrunken with decay, but it also seemed to be stuffed into the mouth of the face. The head had a few strands of almost colorless, but not pale, blondeish hair.
I turned through the pages. Another photo showed a bone that had been broken in half and placed into a clear, crystal glass of water. The glass had a thick base of cut, niched crystal. I either read or knew that the murderess would take the bones of her victims and put them in water to clean off all the flesh, which the woman possibly thought of as the only evidence of her guilt.
I turned to another photo. It was of the woman. She, too, stood over a bed. She looked like a woman from the early twentieth or late nineteenth century. Her dress was very plain, long-sleeved, tight around the woman's top, with the skirt curtaining slightly outward. The woman's hairstyle was close, but "bunned" outward. The woman had a pale, oval face and wide, pale, severe eyes.
The woman started talking and moving. She was pointing to something on the bed, possibly the dead body the face of which was the subject of the first photo. The woman yelled something about how I'd discovered her and how I wasn't supposed to discover her.
I was suddenly afraid. I felt like I was in the woman's house right now, and like she was now sneaking around to get ready to kill me. But I was also afraid that, since I had seen so much about the woman, that the murderous impulse would also infect me, and that I would soon be like her.
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