(Entered in paper journal at 5 AM at my friend R's house in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
It's like I'm small. I'm probably at some housing projects, though also near a playground and a dank tunnel. I am supposed to or being made to sing five Aerosmith songs to make something mystical happen. But XXXXX (my friend R?) hasn't found all the right levels and neither have I. Now R wants to leave. But he wants to force me to sing the songs I already know. I remember a saying that I will be killed if I sing an incomplete version of the five songs.
I see a sycamore maple leaf and then a comic version of myself like I'm in the comic strip Agnes.
Back to the projects. I have seeds in my mouth, palm, fingers -- it's like I'm tasting them.
I decide to walk out of game instead of singing incomplete. "Aerosmith" (unseen) comes up, though. Asks me what I'm doing. I tell them. They say, "Oh, no. Didn't you know we were generous? There are ladies over there. Just sing the song to call them. They will bring all five songs and sing them with you."
I felt ashamed, as if I should have known this.
(Daytime journal entry.)
The dream recorded from last night is almost perfectly recorded. Only two things I will add. The seeds were small, about the size of mustard seeds or mites. They stuck to me as if they had been in some wetness or juice. They were also in some thin, black, plastic transport pots which were now empty. There was a big tray and a bunch of small pots inside that, all strewn with the seeds and slight residues of dirt and whiteness and smell. I was mulling over the ones in my mouth as a shamed kid might sadly, slowly mull over a graham cracker.
The view of myself like the boyfriend from the comic strip Agnes (by Tony Cochran) was a yellow frame against which was the silhouette of the boy standing by a kitchen counter.
That's all I want to add.
Showing posts with label hesitation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hesitation. Show all posts
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Sunday, March 5, 2017
(7/2/05) stove in my room; the magical paper; verifying the eagle
(Entered in paper journal at 7:15 AM at Soap Opera Landromat on 116th Street and 8th Avenue in Harlem.)
Dream 1
I went into "my" "bedroom" and closed the door to avoid the noise of my roommates. The stove was in my bedroom and took up most of the space. All four burners had something on them. I turned on the back left burner, not aware whether any other burner was on.
The burner turned on powerfully. Blue flames spread all up the sides of the "pan," which was like a thick, deep skillet. I panicked. I may have tried to turn down the skillet, but I think the flames reached out for me whenever my hands got too close to the stove. Now I realized all the other burners were in use.
I thought I should open the door for my roommates, who were standing outside my door and talking about how I always lock myself in. I couldn't figure out why I had the stove in my bedroom. Now the front right burner hissed and pressed out a huge plume of smoke. I turned off all the burners, but everything was still going. I noticed how filthy everything was, too.
Dream 2
An Asian woman gave her student or child (who I may have been) a napkin or a strip of brownish, natural- or recycled-looking paper with what looks now like Chinese calligraphy on it. During the course of the day(s) the child kept wanting to get rid of the paper (?). The woman scolded him strongly. "I" couldn't tell why.
Now it was night. (I'm pretty sure I was the child now.) The child stood in a wide, vast courtyard like at a Chinese palace. In the center of this courtyard was a shrine or temple. The woman, now in beautiful, formal, religious attire, including a flowing headdress, sat at an altar.
From somewhere, pale, peach-colored flames glowed and lit the underside of the woman's face brightly. The woman was saying a spell to get rid of a demon or a curse. Somehow this was the moment, it was implied, for which the child's strip of paper would be needed.
Now the child (I?) had this paper in his hand, but it had also been given up during the day. The Asian woman also had it in her hand, even though it had been given up. (At this point I no longer had the child's view but a "low-angle shot" of the woman sitting before the altar.) The woman put the strip of paper before the altar and said some words, maybe reading it.
But wind, I believe convection from the fire, blew the strip of paper out of the woman's hands. It was like the strip of paper dissolved, though once again, the paper could still be seen floating in the air, not really even going higher than two feet above the woman's head.
Dream 3
It was daytime. I was in the woods with a group of folks who were friends and coworkers. I think we were in a pine forest. The feeling was coppery more than green.
We were doing some research. Everybody had been far more observant than I, and I was jealous and downhearted. Now I saw a bird I took to be a red-tailed hawk. I called it out to everybody as it flew over us. Everybody looked and congratulated me, but I thought they were being patronizing. On a closer look, the bird looked too thin to be a red-tailer. It had a lot of grey and black on it, too.
Now it was night. We were across a river from where we had been. We had to come back to verify the presence of the hawk both at day and night. If the hawk did not appear at night, it was an illusion. We might have started calling it an eagle at this point.
Somehow, as if the area were lit by a back-light, we could make out a limb possibly from a downed tree, pretty much parallel with the ground and about eight feet high. We had to sit all night and stare at that branch. The instant we saw the "eagle" we had to wade across the river and look at the eagle up close.
I could feel the approach, though I also thought the "eagle" had to be an illusion and couldn't possibly arrive.
(Continued entry at 8:30 AM on downtown-bound C-train from 116th Street station.)
At the moment when the anticipation got eeriest an owl landed on a branch behind us. Some of us may have turned around to look. I, jealously guarding my chance at "the big moment," didn't turn around.
In a watery, automatic voice, the owl recited a rhyming poem that ended in the line, "Have you ever been an owl?" The poem insinuated I had been an owl. I didn't want to believe that. I wanted to believe I had been an "eagle" and thus had a close connection with the one we were to see. I waited for the owl to say more. But it said nothing.
I now saw, low on the opposite bank of the river, two bears and either a dog or an elk (?!) on a narrow shelf of grass. I felt there was a kinship between all three animals. But I didn't think the animals did enough to show this.
The "elk" now somehow nuzzled a huge clump of grass over to a bear. The bear began gnashing and tearing at the grass. I smiled as if this were cute. But I couldn't figure out why I thought such a violent, almost insane, action was cute.
Now the "eagle" landed on the limb. I don't know if I was first to see it. Two of us, I and someone like my brother or my friend R, were picked up to cross the river.
(Continued at 8:47 AM on the 7-train from Times Square.)
We wore hip waders. We stood on a shelf of land and maybe a couple boulders that jutted out of the water. My friend was ready to go. But I was hesitant. I thought about how squishy the mud would be in the river and how cold the water would be at night. Then I made a big deal about taking everything out of my pockets so nothing would get wet.
My friend may have gone ahead of me. Either way, I knew I was taking too long getting into the water.
Dream 1
I went into "my" "bedroom" and closed the door to avoid the noise of my roommates. The stove was in my bedroom and took up most of the space. All four burners had something on them. I turned on the back left burner, not aware whether any other burner was on.
The burner turned on powerfully. Blue flames spread all up the sides of the "pan," which was like a thick, deep skillet. I panicked. I may have tried to turn down the skillet, but I think the flames reached out for me whenever my hands got too close to the stove. Now I realized all the other burners were in use.
I thought I should open the door for my roommates, who were standing outside my door and talking about how I always lock myself in. I couldn't figure out why I had the stove in my bedroom. Now the front right burner hissed and pressed out a huge plume of smoke. I turned off all the burners, but everything was still going. I noticed how filthy everything was, too.
Dream 2
An Asian woman gave her student or child (who I may have been) a napkin or a strip of brownish, natural- or recycled-looking paper with what looks now like Chinese calligraphy on it. During the course of the day(s) the child kept wanting to get rid of the paper (?). The woman scolded him strongly. "I" couldn't tell why.
Now it was night. (I'm pretty sure I was the child now.) The child stood in a wide, vast courtyard like at a Chinese palace. In the center of this courtyard was a shrine or temple. The woman, now in beautiful, formal, religious attire, including a flowing headdress, sat at an altar.
From somewhere, pale, peach-colored flames glowed and lit the underside of the woman's face brightly. The woman was saying a spell to get rid of a demon or a curse. Somehow this was the moment, it was implied, for which the child's strip of paper would be needed.
Now the child (I?) had this paper in his hand, but it had also been given up during the day. The Asian woman also had it in her hand, even though it had been given up. (At this point I no longer had the child's view but a "low-angle shot" of the woman sitting before the altar.) The woman put the strip of paper before the altar and said some words, maybe reading it.
But wind, I believe convection from the fire, blew the strip of paper out of the woman's hands. It was like the strip of paper dissolved, though once again, the paper could still be seen floating in the air, not really even going higher than two feet above the woman's head.
Dream 3
It was daytime. I was in the woods with a group of folks who were friends and coworkers. I think we were in a pine forest. The feeling was coppery more than green.
We were doing some research. Everybody had been far more observant than I, and I was jealous and downhearted. Now I saw a bird I took to be a red-tailed hawk. I called it out to everybody as it flew over us. Everybody looked and congratulated me, but I thought they were being patronizing. On a closer look, the bird looked too thin to be a red-tailer. It had a lot of grey and black on it, too.
Now it was night. We were across a river from where we had been. We had to come back to verify the presence of the hawk both at day and night. If the hawk did not appear at night, it was an illusion. We might have started calling it an eagle at this point.
Somehow, as if the area were lit by a back-light, we could make out a limb possibly from a downed tree, pretty much parallel with the ground and about eight feet high. We had to sit all night and stare at that branch. The instant we saw the "eagle" we had to wade across the river and look at the eagle up close.
I could feel the approach, though I also thought the "eagle" had to be an illusion and couldn't possibly arrive.
(Continued entry at 8:30 AM on downtown-bound C-train from 116th Street station.)
At the moment when the anticipation got eeriest an owl landed on a branch behind us. Some of us may have turned around to look. I, jealously guarding my chance at "the big moment," didn't turn around.
In a watery, automatic voice, the owl recited a rhyming poem that ended in the line, "Have you ever been an owl?" The poem insinuated I had been an owl. I didn't want to believe that. I wanted to believe I had been an "eagle" and thus had a close connection with the one we were to see. I waited for the owl to say more. But it said nothing.
I now saw, low on the opposite bank of the river, two bears and either a dog or an elk (?!) on a narrow shelf of grass. I felt there was a kinship between all three animals. But I didn't think the animals did enough to show this.
The "elk" now somehow nuzzled a huge clump of grass over to a bear. The bear began gnashing and tearing at the grass. I smiled as if this were cute. But I couldn't figure out why I thought such a violent, almost insane, action was cute.
Now the "eagle" landed on the limb. I don't know if I was first to see it. Two of us, I and someone like my brother or my friend R, were picked up to cross the river.
(Continued at 8:47 AM on the 7-train from Times Square.)
We wore hip waders. We stood on a shelf of land and maybe a couple boulders that jutted out of the water. My friend was ready to go. But I was hesitant. I thought about how squishy the mud would be in the river and how cold the water would be at night. Then I made a big deal about taking everything out of my pockets so nothing would get wet.
My friend may have gone ahead of me. Either way, I knew I was taking too long getting into the water.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
(6/10/08) lucid birds
(Entered in paper journal at 6:13 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I stood at the top of a slight hill, on a street corner in a residential suburban neighborhood. It was a winter night, and snow lay on the street and sidewalks.
A small firetruck, like a pickup truck, drove down the hill, to my right. I watched it or heard it lose control. I looked down after it. It had crashed into a barren, even limbless tree, in front of "my mom's house," which was apparently the house my family had lived in during my last years of high school.
The driver got out of the truck. He was a bald, black man. He radioed or phoned someone at his station that he had crashed.
I remembered that the tree in front of my mom's house had been rotting from the inside because of wood-wasps. I ran down the street to warn the fireman that the tree could fall on him if he stood in front of it, now that it had been hit so hard. The snow in the street was knee-deep. I slightly hesitated in warning the man -- I was afraid he'd do something bad to me or accuse me of having done something bad and arrest me.
About halfway down the street I turned around to look back up the hill. At the top of the hill may have been a car with the doors left open. I thought it might be easier for me to get into the car and drive down to warn the man.
I suddenly realized the air was warm. I thought, Wasn't it summer and sweltering hot (in waking life) today? How is it snowing now? And why is the warmth not melting the snow?
I realized I was dreaming. The orange-streetlight atmosphere became tinged with a raspy white light as well. I was excited to realize I was dreaming and almost immediately began losing awareness. Things started going black.
I calmed myself down very slowly and regained my vision. I was now in something more like a really big front yard. I couldn't hold off the loss of awareness by just thinking. So I grabbed a handful of snow. The cold shocked me back into awareness. I packed the snow into a ball. It soon became a warm material, like Styrofoam or cotton.
I began to lose awareness again and fell to my knees. I had to fight to keep awareness. I grabbed onto the branches of some vegetation near me. I had sight again. The vegetation around me was dimply lit with a raspy, white, electric light.
The shrub I held onto had thin branches of greenish yellow, like on a Mormon Tea shrub. I looked closely at the shrub and moved to my right, clinging closely to the vegetation. I came upon another shrub. It had thin branches lightly covered in clover-like leafs which were pale burgundy colored with a thin fringe of dark, dull green.
The sun was now rising and the atmosphere was a dim grey. A bird began calling in a flat, shrill voice. At first I thought the call was from a catbird. But then the bird that had called flew out of the vegetation. The bird was small, like a chickadee. It kept calling shrilly. I realized I had startled it. I had come very close to it and its nest.
The bird flew into a pinon tree behind me. I stood up and looked at the pinon tree. Behind the tree the sky was rippled with silver and white clouds shining chrome-like with sunlight and edged with a metallic orange.
There was no snow on the ground. I was somewhere like a big backyard. I could hear another bird, possibly the first bird's mate, calling a reply, as if to say it would come to protect the nest as well. I kept walking, trying not to cause a fuss, trying to get away from the nest so that the birds would no longer feel like they were in danger.
Dream #1
I stood at the top of a slight hill, on a street corner in a residential suburban neighborhood. It was a winter night, and snow lay on the street and sidewalks.
A small firetruck, like a pickup truck, drove down the hill, to my right. I watched it or heard it lose control. I looked down after it. It had crashed into a barren, even limbless tree, in front of "my mom's house," which was apparently the house my family had lived in during my last years of high school.
The driver got out of the truck. He was a bald, black man. He radioed or phoned someone at his station that he had crashed.
I remembered that the tree in front of my mom's house had been rotting from the inside because of wood-wasps. I ran down the street to warn the fireman that the tree could fall on him if he stood in front of it, now that it had been hit so hard. The snow in the street was knee-deep. I slightly hesitated in warning the man -- I was afraid he'd do something bad to me or accuse me of having done something bad and arrest me.
About halfway down the street I turned around to look back up the hill. At the top of the hill may have been a car with the doors left open. I thought it might be easier for me to get into the car and drive down to warn the man.
I suddenly realized the air was warm. I thought, Wasn't it summer and sweltering hot (in waking life) today? How is it snowing now? And why is the warmth not melting the snow?
I realized I was dreaming. The orange-streetlight atmosphere became tinged with a raspy white light as well. I was excited to realize I was dreaming and almost immediately began losing awareness. Things started going black.
I calmed myself down very slowly and regained my vision. I was now in something more like a really big front yard. I couldn't hold off the loss of awareness by just thinking. So I grabbed a handful of snow. The cold shocked me back into awareness. I packed the snow into a ball. It soon became a warm material, like Styrofoam or cotton.
I began to lose awareness again and fell to my knees. I had to fight to keep awareness. I grabbed onto the branches of some vegetation near me. I had sight again. The vegetation around me was dimply lit with a raspy, white, electric light.
The shrub I held onto had thin branches of greenish yellow, like on a Mormon Tea shrub. I looked closely at the shrub and moved to my right, clinging closely to the vegetation. I came upon another shrub. It had thin branches lightly covered in clover-like leafs which were pale burgundy colored with a thin fringe of dark, dull green.
The sun was now rising and the atmosphere was a dim grey. A bird began calling in a flat, shrill voice. At first I thought the call was from a catbird. But then the bird that had called flew out of the vegetation. The bird was small, like a chickadee. It kept calling shrilly. I realized I had startled it. I had come very close to it and its nest.
The bird flew into a pinon tree behind me. I stood up and looked at the pinon tree. Behind the tree the sky was rippled with silver and white clouds shining chrome-like with sunlight and edged with a metallic orange.
There was no snow on the ground. I was somewhere like a big backyard. I could hear another bird, possibly the first bird's mate, calling a reply, as if to say it would come to protect the nest as well. I kept walking, trying not to cause a fuss, trying to get away from the nest so that the birds would no longer feel like they were in danger.
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