(9/18/06) recruiting floyd bowie; can't reach my grandmother; the vanishing stealth bomber

(Entered in paper journal at 7:35 PM at home in Brooklyn.)

Dream 1

I was on a subway train at night. I might ahve gone some stops too far. I was with my Americorps coworkers VT and SM. The train went underground through enormous, fluorescent-lit tunnels and then up above ground through an area like a mountain town. During that time it was like there was lightning and snow.

It was Christmas Eve. I was trying to find someone from our crew who wouldn't mind working. If I could find one person, everyone else would fall into place. VT suggested "Floyd Bowie." The next train stop got off near Floyd's house. But VT warned me that perhaps the parents wouldn't want Floyd to work.

I apparently got off the train to go to Floyd's But I didn't really physically get off the train. I just kind of floated down around through the small, snow-covered city that was nestled between some mountains in purple night light.

I stood at the base of the bridge on which the train ran -- a beautiful, long, stone bridge (thought also not unlike the bridge dividing Park Avenue in East Harlem). Down a slope under one of the arches and on the other side of the bridge was a tree bathed in orange streetlamp light.

A black man stood against the tree as if embracing it, urinating. I thought, Don't let these guys see you. This neighborhood's tough at night. They'll all gang up on you.

It was like I was floating around again. I ended up on the corner of a small hill where "Floyd Bowie's" family's house was. The house was a tall, cubic structure, with white walls on the left, right (and back?), and a glass front wall (and glass ceiling?). A second story like a balcony stood high over the first story living room, which was ample and spacious but with plenty of furniture.  The entire house glowed a uranium green, as if lit from the inside.

I was captivated by the beauty of the house. But I didn't want to get too close. I was afraid the parents would think I was exploiting Floyd and pressuring him to work on this day. I thought I would just call and let Floyd's family know I was in the neighborhood. I could see if I could stop by (even though it was probably 2 or 3 AM).

As I was calling I was walking by the bridge again. Under the arches and down the hills, in orange streetlight, were tough kids. Finally they saw me and slinked along after me. I wasn't getting Floyd's phone number right, and I wasn't leaving the right message. I had to call again and again to try and get things right.

I ran into a corner -- a wall jutting from the bridge. I had missed the stairs leading up to the train. I turned around.

An Asian boy stopped me. Some of his friends stood in the distance. He was tallish and fattish. He wore glasses, darkish blue hospital scrub pants with clownish designs, and a plain blue hospital shirt. The left shoulder of the shirt was held together by a safety pin.

The boy did something to bully me. I "fought" him weird, so I ended frozen with my feet kicking his left shoulder (?). I pulled the safety pin off the guy's shirt. The guy was just laughing at me. He grabbed my legs or arms and taunted me. He told me I couldn't get out of his grip, that I wasn't tough enough.

I was going to shove the safety pin into the guy's neck. I got close. The kid took a silver lighter out of his pocket. He said, "You did just what I wanted you to do."

The guy put the lighter over my head. I stood back (apparently back in control of my legs). The guy put his lighter away. I was about to go at the guy again. But he said, "Ah, ah, ah... You might want to do this." He tapped his head.

I tapped my head. I had a flame coming out of the crown of my head. I patted it out. I was furious. I knew all the kids were going to attack me now.

Dream 2

It was like I was under a table in a house with no front wall or a huge, open front door showing the wide view of a small, mountain view on a sunny, crisp day.

I was on my cell phone, trying to make a call. I had heard my (grandmother P?) was in bad shape, maybe even dead. I had somehow missed a call from her, out of carelessness and not wanting to talk to her. Now each time my call failed to connect seemed to prove more and more what an awful person I was.

I could almost hear my (grandma?) scolding me for being such an awful person, to let her die like that. It was almost like she died partly to teach me a lesson.

Dream 3

I stood with a friend (can't remember who) on open ground on a clear day. (Now it seems obvious to me we were on an asphalt strip next to an airplane hangar. But this was not obvious in the dream -- I simply felt like I was somewhere near a forest.)

I looked up. I saw a "Stealth Bomber." I pointed it out to my friend. The bomber flew over us once and then slowly a second time, fling upside down and low so we could see the two pilots waving at us.

I shouted to my friend, "Did you see that? They waved!"

We looked away. But I couldn't believe it. Why would anybody wave at me? It must have been my friend they were waving at.

I looked back up. The jet seemed to be frozen in place. I saw the pilot in back "waving." Then I realized he wasn't waving. He was signaling. He was trying to get me out of the area where the jet was trying to land!

Now I meandered all over the place like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to get out of the way, looking up at the jet the whole time. The jet lost its body, as if it had never existed. When the "jet landed it was just a cockpit on wheels. But it still looked cool. I knew it was still an important vehicle. It had landed so slowly, gently, and quietly, though, that I wondered why the back pilot had made such a big deal about me getting out of the way.

(9/28/06) space age jet plane restaurant; the lotus bend; postcard from brother

(Entered in paper journal at 4:50 AM on 4-train from Utica Avenue in Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream 1

I walked through a wide street of tallish buildings in the sunshine and a pale blue sky. I saw a jet plane fly by over the buildings. The jet was white, triangular but somehow sleek, with red edges. Where the air intakes should have been were huge windows.

I was walking with someone. I asked, "How do they always appear so classy in those things?"

Inside what was apparently this passenger plane groups of people sat at nice tables like at a restaurant. There was one attendant per table. All attendants wore black. The attendants would bring food from what looked like a concierge desk. The "restaurant" (from the inside) had an atmosphere like you might expect at the Seattle space needle. I feel like I was expecting a view of a space shuttle through the windows.

Dream 2

It was night. I ran along a street and then turned right, into a field like a vacant lot. I was testing the ease with which this area could be traveled through in order to obtain something valuable to the stock of a company I was researching.

As I ran through the lot of wild grass tufts and gravely soil and I approached a river, the land became soggier and soggier. Finally I headed down to the river at a bend that was stuffed with waterlilies and lotuses. The night was very purple here. I walked across the river, which was not deeper than the height of my shoes.

It was day. I brought someone from the sales team at my work with me. We ran off the street into the open field. Cars could be seen occasionally on a distant road like a rural highway as we ran. We got closer to the river right away. We stopped by some craggy trees and made adjustments to our gear.

We continued running. The ground got soggier and soggier. Finally it started developing puddles. By the time we got to the "lotus bend" the river and the ground were equally deluged.

I told the guy from sales, "Don't worry. Last night I stepped into the river and it was extremely easy to walk through."

I took a step into the river and the water, dirty, waved up below me. I was being carried in rolling waves. So was the person with me. Occasionally a "lotus" would drift past us.

After the waves had carried us back to the trees where we had stopped to change gear they disappeared altogether, leaving us on dry land. My feet were bare. One of my big toes had a big, circular wound on it.

I thought, How could I have gone in such dirty water with that wound on my foot? The salesperson (MJ?) and I were talking about something, but I could only think about the wound on my foot.

My legs were soaked. I looked at my feet again. I was wearing white tennis shoes which were covered in muck. I saw something in a couple of holes in the shoes that made me think the flesh on my feet was rotting away, turning green.

I panicked. MJ (?) asked if everything was alright. I crouched to check out my feet. I wiped all the muck off my shoes. I realized the grossness in the holes in my shoes was just the way the dirty water and muck had stained my socks.

I told MJ, "Everything's okay. I'll be fine."

Dream 3

Something to do with solar power. I stood at a "hotel" desk in a warehouse-like building that was immaculate and filled with gentle waves of yellow, red, and purple light. It was almost like Grand Central Station.

Someone was in line ahead of me. The person behind the desk, an Asian man, spoke to us about something regarding solar power. I handed him a card like a postcard. The man analyzed it, handed it back, and made a judgment on me, like "You have too much OTC to make the night journey."

I read the back of the postcard. It was from my brother. There was only a little writing, in a sloppy hand. As I read it, I thought of how badly I've always treated my brother.

(4/14/08) jets and highway murder

(Entered in paper journal at 5:30 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was watching a television show about jets. Then it was like I was actually in a plane, looking down on the jets as the narrator discussed them. My brother was with me. I pointed out each jet to him.

We would gain altitude to reach each new grouping of jets. I was afraid of gaining so much altitude, but I didn't show it, and I was happy to see the jets up so close.

I pointed out one of my favorites to my brother, one called the Skylab. It had three wings in a triangular configuration and a sloping nose. There was another large plane that flew alongside it. After that was a "scout plane" with a disc-like or flying-saucer-like front end. My brother didn't seem to be interested in any of these jets.

I had seen this whole progression of jets before, on television, and I knew there would be a last jet to follow, which would head straight up into the sky. I hoped we would follow this jet soon.

But now my brother and I were in a car on a highway, in a shallow recess between two slopes. As we approached a bridge that passed over the road we were on, I looked out my side of the car (the right side?) and saw a little, Hispanic boy (or girl?). We must have been driving at normal speed. But now it seemed like we were driving at a walking pace. The little, Hispanic child had been killed. His arms and legs were taped together. Beside the child were various cultic objects, like candles.

I wanted to get out of the car to tend to the dead child, but I thought it wouldn't be smart. The people who had killed the child might still be around. This might be a trap.

As we passed under the bridge I saw the rest of the family lying in the dirt. They all were also all dead and taped up. There also seemed to be a table and food, all overturned, like this had been the family's house. The mother's eyes were open, and it was like she was looking at me. I thought, I've never seen a dead body before.

I might have been driving the car. I told my brother to call 911. I gave my brother my cell phone. We had called 911 and gotten to a turnoff from the highway into a part of a turn like an industrial park.

I now thought I needed to head back to where we had come from. Somebody was supposed to arrive here after us, but I wanted to get to them and warn them that the might have trouble doing so.

But when I tried to get back onto the highway, a female police officer stopped me. The highway had been closed, the officer explained, while the murder of the Hispanic family was being investigated.