(10/14/06) this isn't the brazil you were thinking of; a turbojet panic; snail email

(Entered in paper journal at 9:03 AM at Ozzie's Coffee Shop on Garfield and 5th in Brooklyn.)

Dream 1

I was on a subway. I was trying to get somewhere, but I had gone too far. The few people on the train (mostly Mexican) were telling me so. We stopped at a very wide station with wide, concrete overhangs -- but a very airy place on a grey day -- and like it was in an empty wilderness. I had to take a few stops down to get to a place where I could cross to a train heading in the opposite direction and head back up.

I was in "my bedroom." I may have been living with my mom and everybody else. I was hysterical with grief. I was trying to get to Brazil, but I knew I couldn't get past security the way I was. I had shot myself up with drugs (looked like roach powder from Cronenberg's film of Naked Lunch), either today or in the past couple days, and I knew that would all still be in my system.

But I got even more sorrowful when I recalled that I had actually donated blood after having shot up. Who knew what diseases might be in the blood of someone who shot themselves up with drugs like I had? I hoped the drugs and disease had worked their way out of my system by the time I had donated blood. I felt trapped in my room.

I was on the train. It had been a three hour ride from New York to Brazil. We pulled in by a shore. I walked over to a plaza of wood shop booths. Some mission-style buildings were in the distance.

But someone told me, "This isn't the Brazil you were thinking of. You have to get on a train and go four more hours to get into the main Brazil."

I thought, Do I have time for that? I couldn't remember whether I was here for just one day or for a long time.

Dream 2

I and a friend (unknown/unseen) were in an aviation museum. We came to a small room big enough only to contain a jet like an F-16. It was lit very comfortably and seemed almost like a living room.

My friend showed me a button that could activate the jet from the outside, on the underside. I knew it was there, too: we were both jet experts. But I was surprised it could actually start the jet, which I assumed was decommissioned for the museum.

The friend was now typing at a computer terminal hooked to the button (which was now a flesh-colored, plasticky outlet). The computer was so low he had to sit on the floor with his legs folded under him to type.

As he typed a turbojet beside the man activated. I stood beside it -- I hadn't been aware of its presence on the jet until now. It was bright silver, gnarled with smooth, beautiful pipes. I could see this was actually the strong engine on the jet. I was afraid the friend would get us in trouble for igniting the jet, but I also wanted to see it run. I could feel the intensity of the turbojet.

But a kid who was now with us stood right behind the jet. I pulled him away and held him very close to me. I may have been a woman. I tried to convince the kid, though he wouldn't believe me, that when these jets ignited they would disintegrate him. He had scared the heck out of me by standing right there.

Dream 3

A huge stack of envelopes on a table. They were like emails -- I read them as if off a screen. But I only read their title lines. But somehow a message from my company's sales and research liaison JB made it clear that I needed to read the stack of messages, especially la series of messages sent by him.

I opened one of the messages. It began, "Thank you, first of all, for the good wishes for me and my family. Would you mind..." (at this point he gave me some task to complete).

(7/17/08) flirting with boss' girl; irreparable damage

(Entered in paper journal at 5:32 AM on 2-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was in a place like an empty cruise ship bar with my boss BS. BS stood behind the counter, which was made of material like a fake-leather seat (an orangish light brown). Behind BS was a wide window with a view of a harbor (?).

BS had been trying to push me into doing something, maybe seeing a specific movie. But when I was visibly annoyed with his insistence, he apologized and said he wouldn't push me.

BS handed me a "cutout from a newspaper," which was thicker than newsprint or normal paper, maybe even as thick as a piece of kraft board, like the paper that makes cereal boxes. The clipping was maybe two inches wide and six inches long. It was an ad for a new movie theater and a movie BS thought I should see. I walked away, as if we were done talking.

Now the place was a bar with a strange harbor motif, all made out of grey, old wood, with thick line strung about as railings. BS stood on a level slightly above me and before the bar. He held a pretty, brunette girl loosely around the waist and told me goodbye, and to have fun volunteering. The girl BS was embracing was apparently furtively flirting with me. But I tried not to notice.

I knew BS and the girl thought I was leaving the building completely. A line of folks piled behind them. I stood at a distance, taking care of writing something in my notebook before I left. I stood hidden behind a thick column. To my right was a zigzagging line before a register counter that looked like the counter at a fast food restaurant. That area was empty.

I could hear the girl with BS say about me, "Yeah, Preemie's gay. For sure he's gay. He reminds me of one of my gay friends who would always do volunteer things, too. Whenever he would see me and my girlfriends he would say, 'Have fun, girls!' in the gayest way, and try to get us to go volunteering with him."

I was now sitting at a silvery table and writing down information from posters over a doorway (like a hallway to the kitchen and restrooms) to my right. To my left was the bar and line of people, slightly elevated from my level. BS and the girl were at the front of the line. The girl was now younger. She wore a pink shirt (I think her shirt had previously been black).

BS caught a glimpse of me and asked why I was still here, in the same annoyed tone of voice he might use if I were to stay at work too long in waking life. I told BS, "I'm just writing stuff down from over there. It's the only place that has it. Then I'll leave, definitely."

I couldn't make out what one of the posters said, so I asked the girl if she could read it for me. The girl had a different look, and her shirt, still pink, now had a pale or washed-out look. The girl bent over and whispered the phrase in my ear, but using a very intimate voice.

I thought this girl was really flirting with me, but I tried to believe she wasn't. But now she bent down and embraced me while whispering the phrase. She embraced me again and pulled me into a standing position. BS looked slightly annoyed and put-out by the whole situation. I decided to leave before I ended up taking BS' girlfriend (???).

I was out on a walkway that was surrounded by water. The walkway was concrete, but there seemed to be wooden docks all around me. There may have been a few boats as well. It was possibly late afternoon. I was on the phone with my girlfriend H. I told H where I was and that I thought I could meet with her if she liked.

I came up to a calm river where a few people were kayaking. My view of the people was obscured by a small bridge that seemed to break in the middle. The bridge looked like the walkway-bridge over the road near the Intrepid aircraft carrier and museum. I thought I would cross the bridge and join the people kayaking. But I realized it was time for kayaking to close for the day, so I couldn't join them.

The light was now cool and blue grey, though there were still a few faint glimmers of golden sunlight. I was on the phone with H again. She was excitedly telling me about something. But suddenly she stopped. Her line went completely silent. I thought I had been disconnected from her.

I may now have been in a bedroom. I tried calling H back. But the phone just kept ringing.

Dream #2

I was with a group of people who were about my age or a little younger. We were all out on a wide lawn or field near some big house. We were all part of some nature project. A group of folks had dug up a hole in the field and pulled out some kind of concrete structure. Now a group of folks was digging up another hole.

An instructor, a kind of dumpy-looking, shabbily dressed man, gobbled at the people that they shouldn't have dug the holes. They had mistaken destroying a species' habitat for doing research. They may now have done irreparable damage. The only thing that could be done now was to cover up the holes before the boss came by. Hopefully the boss wouldn't notice what had been done.

Some time went by. Both holes (although the first one may not have been a problem to begin with) were covered over with a grass matting that was underwoven with a lightweight cable material, like for industrial electrics. I could see the matting from below, as if I were in the hole. The place I was in was like a basic living area.

(2/9/10) flying to the intrepid; long, diseased lives

(Entered in paper journal at 6:20 AM, on B-train to work from Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I walked down through a park like Madison Square Park. It was a sunny day. I saw two gardeners working on a ground-level flower bed at the south side of the park. One was a man; the other, a woman. The man stood while he worked on the flowers. The woman lay on her left side, possibly digging in the soil. The soil was dark and rich.

The man told me, "She's here, KB (an old friend of mine) is here." I now saw that the woman working the flower bed was KB. I may have bent over her to wave hello. She sat up and greeted me. We started talking. I had told her at some point that I was going to go to the Intrepid Museum. We walked away from the flower bed and now faced a wide river.

It may have been like I had now come back from the museum. KB spoke as if I had invited her to come with me, though she had declined. She now said she was sorry she hadn't come, since she'd always wanted to go there. I may have said it had been fun. But I didn't want to talk about it too much -- I felt like I was starting to sound obsessed.

As I spoke, I watched the river, which seemed to be moderately active. I now saw the Intrepid, which was partly like an aircraft carrier and partly like a gigantic pier. I pointed it out excitedly to KB, even though I was again afraid that my being so excited would make me sound obsessed, or like a know-it-all (against which KB would react by saying a lot of things she knew).

But KB said, "Oh! How great!" in almost a motherly tone of approval. I pointed out one jet, which looked a little like a Falcon jet. I pointed out how the plane was propped up on a ramp that seemed to lean against the control tower.

I said, "That jet hadn't been that way before." But then I thought about it and said, "Well, maybe it had." KB seemed interested in my statements.

We were now moving across the river, as if we were floating in the river up to our chests, but moving as quickly as if we were flying over the river. We saw the SR-71 Blackbird, which was enormously long, and which I also didn't quite feel was in the right place.

We now stood on a walkway of wooden planks and metal just a couple of feet above the surface of the water. The sides of the aircraft carrier towered (straight up, not curved over) over us. There was some series of metal walkways over us as well. We were alone.

At some point KB may have put her arms around the underside of the nose of an older plane, clapping her hands against the surface for a moment. We spoke a little more. Then KB told me, "I'm broke." She said this as if she were also a little bit panicked about her future.

I said, "Do you need money? If you need money, we can go get you some right now. I'll lend it to you, no problem." KB looked at me with a stunned expression, her pale eyes blank. KB was unable to say anything. Finally she accepted.

Dream #2

I was in a small living room which was dim, with only natural light flowing into it from behind thick curtains. The room was narrow and slightly long. I sat on a couch on the right side of one end of the room. My mom and my aunt B sat on either a couch or chairs on the left side and other end of the room.

My aunt spoke with my mom and me about how people live to a certain age even with certain diseases or health problems. My aunt said something to the effect that my great grandmother lived with her disease until she was 80 years old -- and that was an old age to live to with that specific disease.