(Dream entered only in daytime paper journal. No time/place info for entry.)
One dream slightly remembered from last night.
Dream 1
I was outside a tall building, possibly in the plot for another tall building. The area was fenced off. Inside were huge dinosaur fossils. Something in these fossils or in other fossils like these ones was causing some kind of terminal disease for people all over America. I think it was something inside the fossils of a certain dinosaur, so that if the fossils broke open, the germ dust would spray out.
I had to inspect these fossils. I was hung down or else I simply hovered over the completed and arranged skeleton, which was maybe fifty feet tall. I could feel the doom and death inside this skeleton. I knew that this thing had to be removed.
Now it seemed like either the skeleton of a building or some kind of parking lot structure was being built or was built around the skeleton. I climbed up this structure, from floor to floor. On one floor, empty otherwise, I found a large dinosaur skull. I could tell that this also was diseased. So I grabbed it by its beak-like mouth and carried it with my left hand as I climbed down the floors somehow with my legs and right arm. The skull was large, maybe four feet long.
The lower floors were like some kind of museum without any discernible exhibits. People saw me scaling down the floors. A lot of them, kids especially, ran to the edges of the floors, which were now barred by metal guardrails. Everybody thought I was bringing down a new exhibit. They huddled closer to me. But I needed them to get away. The skull was diseased. I needed to get it into an isolated place so I could prepare to remove it.
There was a small square roped off on one of the floors, right at the edge. So I dropped the skull right there. But as soon as I did, a ton of people were running up to it. I picked it right back up and climbed farther down.
Now I was in some smallish room like a mix between a hallway and an employee's lounge. I stood facing a businessman, some kind of upper-middle-management boss. Next to me, possibly standing in the doorway of an elevator, stood a guy who looked something like Joe Strummer (?).
I was trying to convince the boss to let something happen that needed to happen before "JS" could start his mission, as something like a flying soldier fighting against living dinosaur skeletons (by flying I mean that he likely flew with something like a jet pack attached to him).
Somehow, while waiting for this tightwad boss to make his decision, "JS" and I lgot sidetracked by talking about The Clash, whom "JS" also liked. But then he started mentioning all these songs that "were from" London Calling. I didn't know any of them. I pulled the CD out from somewhere and looked on the back for the song list. the whole last two-thirds of the album was unknown to me.
I felt like a moron. I thought that if "JS" discovered how little of this album I knew he'd think I was just some "trendy" who only knew The Clash's most popular songs, like everybody else.
Showing posts with label epidemic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label epidemic. Show all posts
Monday, March 20, 2017
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
(11/12/05) epidemic rats; rip taylor renovation; fruity beer; judgmental interview
(Entered in paper journal at 7:40 AM at my friend R's house in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
It was a rainy day. I was in a courtyard of building with people like my family, who may have been dressed like nineteenth century European peasants. The courtyard was square, entirely enclosed by the tall, wide-sided building. The building itself was thin, like the outline of a square. The courtyard was in bad shape, the cobbles knotting up everywhere.
There was some kind of epidemic, and now it seemed my "family" had caught it. But my "family" may also not have been my family, but a group of people who were trying to accuse me of having the disease with a trick involving them claiming they had the disease. But I knew the disease was loose in this building.
There were rats hiding. I could tell. I had to escape to a place in the building the rats had not yet reached. I "flew" along the walls, like I was walking an air-staircase which spiraled up.
The brick (?) walls were sloppily painted in strips of black and swatches of white. I made a couple huge steps near the top and at the ceiling came to an office that looked like an exaggerated rooftop stairway shelter of modern, silvery alloy and glass. It was some environmentalist office.
I went inside, hoping to find someone I knew, just to communicate on the same level with, to escape the feeling of my "family" below. But the place was a mess, huge, with tons of space, but with old stacks of paper everywhere. I thought the rats must either be here or not far from here, since they loved dirty places like this.
Now RL, one of my senior coworkers from my NYC Americorps program, walked out from a hallway lined with posters like the Central Forestry division's posters of different garden flowers. We spoke, but I was always focused on some calendar showing pictures of the mountains.
Dream 2
I was at a performance with a female friend, who sat to my right. The theater was dark and large. A man somewhere was talking about how the place was finally being reopened. He was now at the left end of the theater, by an exit and a tall iron tech stairway. He stood on some white pedestal that moved upward slowly. He looked like a bald version of Rip Taylor. He said he'd always hated how the elevator in the old place never worked, but he thought now he'd be just fine.
The podium was so high now that the man's head hit the ceiling in the center of a white bull's eye. The podium bounced down a bit. The man said something like, "Whoops! I guess I haven't gotten it quite figured out yet." Everybody laughed.
Finally I realized the whole "reopened theater" thing was part of the act, not real.
Dream 3
I sat in a room of a big house and heard my friend R and his girlfriend L talking as they made breakfast. R was going on and on about how he didn't think anybody should admire workers from the old days. He didn't think their work situations could have been all that touch. And even if they were tough, he said, he could have handled them better than they had. So people should really admire him for his job.
I walked into the kitchen. I told R, "I'm so tired of hearing how incredible everything you do is. Just because you work at ConEd doesn't mean the people in the old days didn't struggle. And it doesn't mean they weren't really good workers. They do deserve admiration because they went through a lot and they did it for everybody."
I had a plate in my hand, full of some starchy, cheesy substance which I was soaking up with vegetables. I reached into the fridge, grabbed a Coors Light, popped it open, and began drinking it. It tasted like a fruity soda.
R said, "I was unaware I said the workers didn't deserve admiration. Why are you blaming me for saying it?"
I said, "Don't play the getting indignant trick so I ask your forgiveness for the asshole thing you said."
I was going to continue about the workers, but R said, "Ah -- ah -- stop it. I get it. I get it. You know that trick too well now."
I walked to the table. I sat the beer down on some videocassette. I wondered why I was drinking a beer for breakfast and why it tasted fruity. I wobbled my beer and made some gestures at R like, Isn't it weird I'm drinking a beer for breakfast? But I didn't say anything, partly because my mouth was full of food and partly because I didn't want to say anything and be condescendingly interrupted by R again.
Dream 4
I stood before a goldenrod, velvety curtain, possibly in a dim living room. I heard my friend and old NYC Americorps coworker KB like I was talking on the phone with her. She said, "I told the people you'd be interviewing with that you were a brilliant person but that you get very nervous around judgmental people because you feel you deserve bad judgment. But when I told my mom, who hates you, that I told the interviewers that, she yelled at me and told me to stop giving you help all the time."
As KB spoke, someone was pulling up red bands around my legs. It was a harness, like the harness you use when you go rock climbing.
Dream 1
It was a rainy day. I was in a courtyard of building with people like my family, who may have been dressed like nineteenth century European peasants. The courtyard was square, entirely enclosed by the tall, wide-sided building. The building itself was thin, like the outline of a square. The courtyard was in bad shape, the cobbles knotting up everywhere.
There was some kind of epidemic, and now it seemed my "family" had caught it. But my "family" may also not have been my family, but a group of people who were trying to accuse me of having the disease with a trick involving them claiming they had the disease. But I knew the disease was loose in this building.
There were rats hiding. I could tell. I had to escape to a place in the building the rats had not yet reached. I "flew" along the walls, like I was walking an air-staircase which spiraled up.
The brick (?) walls were sloppily painted in strips of black and swatches of white. I made a couple huge steps near the top and at the ceiling came to an office that looked like an exaggerated rooftop stairway shelter of modern, silvery alloy and glass. It was some environmentalist office.
I went inside, hoping to find someone I knew, just to communicate on the same level with, to escape the feeling of my "family" below. But the place was a mess, huge, with tons of space, but with old stacks of paper everywhere. I thought the rats must either be here or not far from here, since they loved dirty places like this.
Now RL, one of my senior coworkers from my NYC Americorps program, walked out from a hallway lined with posters like the Central Forestry division's posters of different garden flowers. We spoke, but I was always focused on some calendar showing pictures of the mountains.
Dream 2
I was at a performance with a female friend, who sat to my right. The theater was dark and large. A man somewhere was talking about how the place was finally being reopened. He was now at the left end of the theater, by an exit and a tall iron tech stairway. He stood on some white pedestal that moved upward slowly. He looked like a bald version of Rip Taylor. He said he'd always hated how the elevator in the old place never worked, but he thought now he'd be just fine.
The podium was so high now that the man's head hit the ceiling in the center of a white bull's eye. The podium bounced down a bit. The man said something like, "Whoops! I guess I haven't gotten it quite figured out yet." Everybody laughed.
Finally I realized the whole "reopened theater" thing was part of the act, not real.
Dream 3
I sat in a room of a big house and heard my friend R and his girlfriend L talking as they made breakfast. R was going on and on about how he didn't think anybody should admire workers from the old days. He didn't think their work situations could have been all that touch. And even if they were tough, he said, he could have handled them better than they had. So people should really admire him for his job.
I walked into the kitchen. I told R, "I'm so tired of hearing how incredible everything you do is. Just because you work at ConEd doesn't mean the people in the old days didn't struggle. And it doesn't mean they weren't really good workers. They do deserve admiration because they went through a lot and they did it for everybody."
I had a plate in my hand, full of some starchy, cheesy substance which I was soaking up with vegetables. I reached into the fridge, grabbed a Coors Light, popped it open, and began drinking it. It tasted like a fruity soda.
R said, "I was unaware I said the workers didn't deserve admiration. Why are you blaming me for saying it?"
I said, "Don't play the getting indignant trick so I ask your forgiveness for the asshole thing you said."
I was going to continue about the workers, but R said, "Ah -- ah -- stop it. I get it. I get it. You know that trick too well now."
I walked to the table. I sat the beer down on some videocassette. I wondered why I was drinking a beer for breakfast and why it tasted fruity. I wobbled my beer and made some gestures at R like, Isn't it weird I'm drinking a beer for breakfast? But I didn't say anything, partly because my mouth was full of food and partly because I didn't want to say anything and be condescendingly interrupted by R again.
Dream 4
I stood before a goldenrod, velvety curtain, possibly in a dim living room. I heard my friend and old NYC Americorps coworker KB like I was talking on the phone with her. She said, "I told the people you'd be interviewing with that you were a brilliant person but that you get very nervous around judgmental people because you feel you deserve bad judgment. But when I told my mom, who hates you, that I told the interviewers that, she yelled at me and told me to stop giving you help all the time."
As KB spoke, someone was pulling up red bands around my legs. It was a harness, like the harness you use when you go rock climbing.
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