(8/10/05) bad-looking shoes; phone bully; rematerialize at random; "weird al" bloomberg

(Entered in paper journal at 6 PM on Brooklyn-bound Q-train from 57th Street and 7th Avenue in Manhattan.)

Dream 1

It was a nice, sunny day. I was riding in a van possibly driven by mother or my NYC Americorps coworker VT. We may have been in "Harlem." I saw a building at the end of a plaza or a circle lined with buildings. The building at the end was tall and wide, like a fancy hotel, but flat and featureless, red brick with a patching wearing away of tan plaster from the bottom and counter upward and outward.

I was in the van with a few other people, probably "coworkers." Someone mentioned the event we were attending and how it would last into the night. I think I saw the surroundings now like it was late at night. I asked about how we would get to certain subways. Apparently I had to backtrack and go a little out of the way to get to my subway, but it wouldn't be so bad to do.

It was day. I sat on the floor of the van. There were no seats. I think I was the only one back there. I had my old boots on. They looked bad. I was putting my new shoes on, but I noticed they looked bad, too.

Dream 2

I walked into something like a bodega with my friend and NYC Americorps coworker KA. The place had one main area, then a dark hall, then a door with a window into a room where a group of old, Mediterranean-looking men sat, smoking.

KA walked to a payphone in the small, dark hall. She put in twenty-five cents and made a call. She spoke a while before one of the men came out and asked me if I could please get her to get off the phone. He seemed really apologetic, but I wasn't going to ask KA to get off the phone. I didn't want her to think I had let the man bully me into compromising her space.

Instead, I walked up to KA and told her, "Don't get off the phone. This guy wants you to, and I feel like you should, but don't. Don't be bullied."

But KA got off the phone, both as if she were disappointed that I had let myself be bullied, and as if she were disgusted that I should be so stubborn about the request of such a nice man. The man came up to KA and thanked and thanked her for getting off the phone. He kept pouring all kinds of change onto the counter (where the payphone had been, but on which now was a regular phone).

Dream 3

I was outside, leading a group of kids. Some or all of the kids had magical powers. They could (maybe I could, too) dematerialize at will. But they rematerialized at random. I thought how dangerous it was to walk through objects when you were dematerialized because if you rematerialized unexpectedly you'd be smashed by the matter.

As I thought this, the lead (?) child, who looked like a cartoon version of an anthropomorphic elephant, dematerialized. He walked through a large pin oak tree and rematerialized right as he reached the center of the trunk. The only things sticking out were his elephant trunk and his arms.

I panicked and ran into a (library?) where a woman, maybe my friend and coworker KB, sat near the doors at a table, studying. I asked her to come help me. She said, "Oh, not another problem with one of those meaningless children. If it's somebody famous I'll help you. Who's in trouble?"

I looked at what KB was studying -- three DVD boxes of the work of Nam June Paik. So I said, "Nam June Paik is in trouble." KB stood up and walked out.

Now the tree, wherever it was, was in an area of wood beam frames hung with black wires. The woman walked up and began clipping away all the wires. Some of the wires made some sparks, but they all died as soon as she clipped them.

She now involved me somehow. I apologized. I said, "It wasn't Nam June Paik that was in trouble. It was a kid." The woman didn't hear me much, or possibly, she split into two people, one of whom walked away from me, while the other led me to an "archaeological site." It was a square, maybe ten feet by ten feet, of sandy ground, like in a dirt parking lot, fenced off by a wood beam fence.

The woman was down on the ground, dusting off what now looks like eyeglass lenses. She started telling me about some boy who got lost here a long time ago.

Dream 4

I was in "my great grandmother A's guest bedroom," which was empty except for a radio, which played some news story about how Michael Bloomberg came up with a new education funding event. Bloomberg had "Weird Al" Yankovic play at the event. I thought that was funny.

I walked out to the living room, which was also empty except a couch, and maybe told two male friends how maybe Bloomberg wasn't such a bad guy if he was cool enough to make "Weird Al" a guest at this fundraiser.

My older friend (?) told me, "Just remember that you have a liberal grandmother and a conservative friend. And if your grandmother doesn't like Bloomberg -- I mean, she's old and she doesn't like him! -- that ought to tell you something."

I hit my forehead and said, "Oh, of course Bloomberg is no good. Man, imagine if we were in Harlem."

My older friend said, "We are in Harlem."

I felt disoriented. I tried to remember if I was in Harlem and how I could have lost so much mental composure as to forget such a thing.

(11/23/08) feast of the final christmas

(Entered in paper journal at 5:05 PM on Q-train from Manhattan to Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I was in a big room like a cafeteria in a high school. The place was full of people. I stood with a group of people by a green wall. We were all relaxed, and we seemed to be having a good time, but we were also engaged in some task.

I watched a boy who was maybe in his teens, push his hand through the wall. The wall became penetrable in that spot, like mist, due to some power the boy had. The boy then took a power cord and pushed it through the wall.

Everybody (?) now understood what they had to do. Each person used their own individual power to reach through the wall and plug a cord into a power outlet. One person may actually have simply busted a hole in the wall.

I had been walking along the wall, watching people do these things. But now I had to stand in my own spot and accomplish the task myself. I was a little afraid. But nobody was really paying attention to me except the guy right next to me, who relaxedly gave me encouragement.

I knew that I would hit my hand against the wall. The wall became a little gooey-looking in the section where I would hit (flat-palmed). It looked like there was a little writing on the wall. But I couldn't (and, partly, was afraid to) get my hand all the way through the wall.

But suddenly I decided to walk through the wall with my whole body. I walked through very easily. I stood in what looked like a cave of basement columns and pipes. I felt like I had gotten into a secret place.

I knew the group I had been with was trying to find out some plan an evil group had. Now I knew the evil group was going to be in this cave. I didn't want to be caught here, but I wanted to go on and see what was happening.

I wandered into a smooth-walled tunnel, into darkness (and momentarily saw a Transformers logo before my eyes (the good guy logo)). The walls of the tunnel dimly glowed striped colors like in a 1980s style video game.

I walked into an opening where a group of people stood and sat. Most of the people were women. All of the women were scantily clad. The clothing was all like costumes of children's cartoon characters, like Strawberry Shortcake, but extremely skimpy and sexy-looking. The girls were all built like tall, thin models.

The few men were dressed up so that their bodies were almost entirely concealed in futuristic armor, like the armor that would encapsulate Darth Vader or other characters from Star Wars. The men's costumes buzzed with the same electronic, striped colors with which the hallways I'd just walked through had buzzed.

The leading man said the plan was to steal Christmas from everyone.

I was only half-listening to what the leader said. I was cuddling with two women. One of the women wore a cartoony outfit. But the other one, whom I knew, wore just a tiny white t-shirt and a pair of white panties.

Everybody was sad that there wouldn't be anymore Christmas. The leader said, "But that doesn't mean we have to stop celebrating now. We won't be able to carry out our plan until after this Christmas."

The leader now looked like a camp leader or a motivational speaker. He said, "In fact, I've gotten all of you a special gift for this Christmas. You all get as much food as you want to make your own special Christmas breakfast!"

We all stood and walked through the tunnel. The tunnel opened to an enormous street that looked like two suburban streets separated by a wide field, about the width of a football field, full of tables. The day was bright, and the area was full of people, mostly young people. I knew we all had ingredients for making whatever we wanted.

I had split up from the rest of the group and was walking with my girlfriend H. We came to our residence, which was like a little house, about one-fourth the size of a normal suburban house. All the houses in this area were white.

There was a stove in front of our house. Skillets covered all the burners. The skillets were empty and the burners were off. I thought H an I could make pancakes. I wanted to grab a skillet and get started before the stove got taken over by other groups of people.

H went off to "get ready. I walked toward the stove. I saw some other people also heading for the stove: white boys with a kind of fraternity-house look to them.

I hustled up to the stove and grabbed a skillet before the boys could. The boys were a little caught off guard by how forceful I was being, especially for such a cheerful occasion. I even felt ashamed of myself.

I walked away and noticed that one of the tables was entirely filled with skillets. Also, all the residences had stoves in front of them. Everybody would probably just use the stove that was at their residence.

I went into my residence. I knew flour was outside. I would get that there. But food had also been placed inside the house. I would find the other ingredients for the pancakes inside.

But I had to think what went into pancakes. I couldn't figure it out. I opened my fridge. It was completely filled with butter and cheese -- nothing else. I knew this wasn't nearly everything I'd need for making pancakes.

My view of the fridge became strange, as if I were sitting on the floor and looking sideways into the fridge. I hoped H wouldn't come back soon. I would be ashamed to have her see all this cheese in my fridge.