(10/28/07) sprung springs; death of a jumpsuit kitty

(Entered in paper journal at 9:25 AM at Connecticut Muffin in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I woke up in the dark. I rolled over in my bed. I knocked against metal wire which stuck out of my mattress. I got panicked and lifted up my head to look at the wire. the wire was like repeated s-shapes, thin, sticking out of the bed in two spans at 45-degree angles from the mattress.

I thought springs must have broken in my mattress. I was afraid that without my having been aware of it, another spring had pierced through my midsection or skull and that I would die as soon as I discovered it.

Dream #2

I woke up in the dark. I lay on the top bunk of a bunk bed. To my left, on the wall along the bed's left side, was a window. Trees in close, tangled growth were lit (by a building wall-light?) so I could see them pretty well. There was a lot of tangled vegetation but not a lot of foliage. One leaf I saw was big and rough-green with crinkly, brown edges. It had the shapes of a maple leaf and a tuliptree leaf mixed together, but it was probably about twelve inches long.

I called the leaf a sycamore maple leaf. But when I looked at the tree trunk nearest me, it was much smoother than that of a sycamore maple would be. I thought, Well, is it a silver maple? But there were cherry-like striations on the bark. I thought, Is it a birch tree?

I then figured that the leaf I saw clearly was from one of the tree trunks behind this front one. I looked higher up the trunk to see if I could spot any leafs. In tangled, brownish vegetation I saw yellow and brown leafs shaped like elm leafs and lit from above by a wall-light so their colors glowed softly.

I felt an animal stirring around my head. At first I thought it was a rat. I panicked and almost rolled out of bed. I thought, You can't flinch like that! You'll fall out of bed and hurt yourself!

I looked at the animal. It was a cat that lived in this house. I loved it and was happy to see it. It was daylight now. I sat up on the bed, playing a little with the cat.

There were a couple cat care magazines on the bed (which was full of different sheets and blankets). The magazines were different issues of the same magazine, but at some point the magazine had changed its title. The issue with the changed title was the first issue I had seen with the changed title. I can't remember the original title. The changed title was Fandango's Pop.

There was now also a little, grey kitten, almost just born, in a little, blue jumpsuit or covered in a blue blanket. Both cats were just lying near me.

I flipped an outside advertisement flap on the new magazine to see the actual front cover. There was some photo of a fluffy, white cat. I closed the magazine and pulled it up to shift it a little out of my way. Somehow I managed to knock the little kitten off the edge of the bed.

I tried to catch the kitten, but I couldn't. I stuck my left leg out, in front of the bunk bed's ladder, possibly to catch the kitten on my foot. But it just rolled down my leg and off my foot. The little kitten thunked down on the ground. It writhed a little. I thought it had hit the floor pretty hard for a newborn cat and that it was probably injured or dead.

I scrambled down the steps. I knelt over the kitten. It still writhed. It had fur like a full-grown cat (grey and dusty white with black, watery stripes), but the kitten was only about three inches long. The kitten's eyes were shut tight, like the kitten was in extreme pain. I picked up the kitten. It looked like a newly hatched bird. It had greyish-peach skin and blue, round eyes. It still writhed in its pale blue jumpsuit or blanket. I was sure it was in its death throes.

I lifted it up to the other cat, which may have had orange fur. I hoped the other cat would be able to care for the kitten or let me know by some instinctual reaction that the kitten was okay. The orange cat began writhing like the little kitten. But then it began pushing the kitten away, getting more and more annoyed with the kitten.

I now realized that my thinking had been wrong. Since the orange cat wasn't the grey kitten's mother, it couldn't take care of the kitten like a mother would. And it couldn't be worried about the kitten's pain if it couldn't take care of the kitten.

I thought, Well, if the kitten is still moving, it might be alright. I picked the kitten back up. I thought I would need to find the kitten's mom.

The room I was in was messy, full of junk and unopened moving boxes that were strung over with clothing and fabric. I walked into the hallway, which looked the same. The whole house, apparently, was full of boxes and junk. And it was glowing with golden sunlight.

I looked down at the kitten. Its grey head was now red, as if the kitten had sustained a head injury after all and was now hemorrhaging. The kitten shook its head back and forth, looking at me urgently. The kitten's face was almost human, like the face of a classic grey alien with blue eyes and a cat nose.

To see that the kitten understood what was happening to it was too much for me. I began to call out. But I was so uncertain of whether I should call out for my own mother or for the kitten's mother that my cries were just like groans of voice before the word is formed. I kept making this sound and getting more and more panicked.

I walked into the bathroom, which was also full of junk and boxes. I must have thought that either the mother cat or my own mother was in the bathtub. I thought that if I laid the kitten in the tub I would either know for sure that the kitten was going to die, and that it was my fault, or that the kitten would be taken care of.

(6/26/08) factory boy

(Entered in paper journal at 6:24 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was in a large, old building like a factory in ruins. There might have been no ceiling, because sunlight was coming in pretty clearly from above. I was with a group of people, all of whom (except one boy) had soon walked ahead of me and out of my sight.

The boy who remained was walking up a piece of machinery like a conveyor belt. The conveyor belt was part of an intricate system of machinery that almost looked like a highway network. Parts of it were blocked up with roller-like cylinders laid down on the ramps and belts. Other parts were blocked up with barrels like oil barrels stood up on the ramps and belts. There were also orange and white striped barrier boards cluttered all over.

The machinery spanned into a dark, dark hallway which was where the group of other folks had gone. The boy might have been trying to get to that area as well via the ramps and belts of the machinery.

But suddenly the ramp he had been walking on broke, as if it were made of old wood. The boy fell maybe ten feet and landed on his back on the metallic, roller-like cylinders which lay on the ground.

The boy lay still. I ran to him. I was sure he was dead. I knelt down. The boy opened his eyes. He was alive, but he was hurt. He now looked older. He was white, a little grizzled-looking, with mean eyes. But he was still "the boy." I helped the boy stand up. We walked toward the entrance of the building (i.e. away from the balck hallway), possibly with the assistance of a few other people.

I got to the doorway. I was by myself. I looked out to an extension of this old building, which had a thick, dark ceiling but no walls. The view beyond the building was beautiful, blue sky, as if the building stood at the top of a hill which sloped down to the ocean.

I walked a little ways outward, then stopped and turned back toward the door. There were old tools scattered on the floor before the doorway. I rushed back to the door to shove the tools back inside. But all I did was go back inside and attempt to close the door, which was now an old, wooden door. I couldn't get it closed.

A big, roundish, black man wearing overalls stood just outside the doorway. He looked offended, as if he thought I was trying to close the door on him. I think I held the door open for him apologetically, trying to let him prove that I wasn't trying to shut him out.