(9/9/06) hiding from my family; "i" was "anthony perkins"

(Entered in paper journal at 8:55 AM at Ozzie's coffee shop on 5th Avenue in Brooklyn.)

Dream 1

I was in "my office" -- much wider, shorter, dimmer, yet classier, in a way, than my office in waking life. I was aggravated by my boss and got so mad I began yelling and punching a wall by an elevator. People stopped and stared at me. I knew I was probably in trouble.

I was in an enormous house "in New York." The walls were adobe red and the place was full of beautiful, deserty light. The floors even seemed to be of dirt. My family was also there somehow, though I also was moving in there by myself.

I was up on the second floor, in a big room with a window (and balcony?) overlooking a streetcorner that looked like it was in a small desert city. I spoke on the phone with somebody, probably one of my mom's best friends, TH.

TH wanted to come over. I tried to tell her my location. But I'd forgotten it. I had to go downstairs and find the address. It was 4th Avenue and 3rd Street.

I didn't want to stay downstairs for too long because I didn't want my family to see me and start bothering me -- and I didn't want to say the address too loud because (?!) I didn't want my family to find out where I lived. I went back upstairs.

Dream 2

I was watching a TV show about white people that was made by black people. The character at the moment was an old, fat, well-dressed businessman in an old-style train station. Strong, black people had pushed him to an incredible point of frustration.

The businessman wanted to do something violent. But the view became tunneled and distorted and intense. The man fell to his knees. (I have a feeling this was all "an A Tribe Called Quest video.") The man stumbled through some vague scenes until he ended up climbing onto a hospital bed in a dim hospital room with grey-yellow walls.

The man grabbed onto a man like Anthony Perkins (maybe at first a female nurse, then "Anthony Perkins" as a patient). The man kept calling "Anthony Perkins" Mother and grabbing onto him for dear life.

"Anthony Perkins's" back was torn in places to reveal muscles and ribs like it was dried out and cured. Now "Anthony Perkins" was in his own hospital room, which was bigger and lighter than the previous room. He was talking wwith a female nurse.

"I" was "Anthony Perkins." "I" said something like, "Maybe if he can find something like a mother to hold onto, that will keep him normal on the outside. What do you think? Will he ever be able to get out of here?"

The nurse said, "No."

I looked at the door, slightly understanding why the nurse said no, but still feeling disappointed.

(4/27/09) brain surgery patients

(Entered in paper journal at 7:45 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I wandered through a series of hallways, possibly in an office building or hospital. I finally came to a room like a large operating room. There were maybe ten beds in the room.

On each bed lay a naked man. Each man was white, bald, maybe in his late thirties or early forties, of medium build, with his body sagging slightly, as if each man had just begun to get out of shape. The men differed slightly in the degree of physical conditioning, as well as in some other things, such as height and penis size.

The men all had small markings, in ink that looked like tattoo ink, on their skulls and possibly on their shoulders and arms. The small markings were all shapes like right angles and "T" shapes. I knew these men were all here for brain surgery, possibly as a treatment of insanity. I was also scheduled to undergo brain surgery.