(2/18-19/06) i don't want to see the insanity; the police must be lying

(NOTE on dream entries -- Some dreams I entered into my paper journal were entered immediately after I woke from the dreams. Some of these dreams may have been written in a "coherent" narrative style. Others were written in an outline style. Earlier on, in 2004, I would flesh out and "analyze" these dreams in my daytime journals. I'm not really sure whether I did the same thing from the dreams I took this method with in 2006 and possibly 2005. Since this blog is dedicated to recording the dreams in my dedicated dream journals, however, I am sticking to the form of the dreams as written in the journals.)

(Entered in paper journal at 11:07 PM at home in Brooklyn -- pretty sure immediately after waking from the dream.)

Dream 1

I sat by a computer doing a project -- radio/computer news -- "fair" in Kmart parking lot -- some area blocked off (by convenience store "van") where strange kid staring.

Later on, still by screen -- kid vanished. Something wrong with place, too, Hearing news as watching live scene of highway in Seattle. Talking of kid, kid probably in Seattle.

cars buzzing along highway. News stranger -- kid maybe insane -- then kid probably stolen by father -- father probably insane -- at first highway on web page, just live photos like on Vail.com website -- now action video, direct -- a car makes a tail of exhaust -- i thought, i could be watching them.

the highway seems closer and closer, until the "camera" is right there -- i click out, think, last thing I need is to get possessed by this madman -- as i click i send a car flying up and back down in Seattle -- the highway now my own -- see, as "radio" narrates, cars driving on grass, grass fields everywhere -- crashing, laying in ruts, broken, crashed cars everywhere -- "radio" narrates this is the junkyard, people come here to wreck their cars.

so now it seems like it should feel safe. But I feel even more afraid. And I still want to change "states" on the website, but I don't want to go to any other state. I'm afraid that the insane man will drive there, too, and possess me. --

Dream 2

(Entered in paper journal at 8:43 AM at Starbucks on 1st Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)

I was with my brother. We were in a big van that I drove.We stopped at the edge of a park, either a city park or a national park. I got out of the van and got back in. I had seen a park house at the top of the hill pretty easily from in front of the van. I was excited to go there. But I knew we had to get somewhere in the van.

I explained this to my brother. He responded positively and said, "Then I'll just spend a minute or two in the park. You can wait idling right here."

Previously we had been in something like a roadside parking area where cars pull in diagonally with the curb.

Now we were on the corner of an intersection. I thought, after a second or two of my brother being gone, Look how happy he was to go. I won't pressure him to leave. I'll pull in and park.

I pulled into a small, half-dirt, half-asphalt parking lot. There were only a few spaces. I parked in front of, i.e. front-to-front with, an army-green car that looked like a police car. I drove a tiny bit too far and ran off the asphalt and onto the dirt -- about a six- or seven-inch drop.

As I was trying to pull back, thinking it wouldn't be impressive to have my car like that in front of a "cop car," a "real" cop car's passengers called to me on a loudspeaker, telling me to pull away from the "cop car" and step out of my van. They thought I was a criminal for whom they had set up this green "cop car" as a decoy. I was already trying to pull back. but the asphalt drop was too steep for me to get up.

I looked back to the "real" cop car. Both cops were half out of their opened doors with their guns ppointing at me. They told me to forget pulling my van back and just to get out of the vehicle. Neither they nor I were sure they wouldn't shoot me, even if I did comply with their orders. They thought I was pretty dangerous.

We sent thoughts back and forth -- some woman had pegged me as a really bad person. I tried to explain (telepathically) that I knew who she was and that she had followed me around, but that I had never done anything bad in front of her. She had posed as a friend.

I thought back through all my memories of the woman, unable to believe the woman could have betrayed me. I tried to figure out whether she was trying to frame me for something she had done. All my memories, though, were of her (a blonde, mousy-looking, lower-middle-class woman, dry-skin-cheeked, worn-eyed) decking herself with household items from bargain stores. During some of my memories, she and I were making movies.

But I had one particular memory of sneaking up and catching the woman by surprise. The woman was decking herself for one of our movies. She was excited about it, but in a calm way. She had rolls of wide, clear tape on her head. She cut the rolls "into shape" with scissors.

I thought, The police must be lying. The woman really liked me and making movies with me. She wouldn't accuse me like this.

(9/24/08) a trucker in greenburg park

(Entered in paper journal at 6:14 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was in a semi-truck (though I may have had an out-of-truck view of it at first). It was daytime. The truck driver, who at first may have been like a narrator, was talking about some work that had been done on the engine to make the truck go a lot faster.

We were on a road in a kind of busy part of the mountains. As we passed a small, white gas station (on our left), we noticed a car behind us, rushing to catch up to us and pass us. The truck driver knew tht the car driver was just trying to taunt us, feeling that he had a faster car. But the truck driver pressed on the gas and kept the car behind him.

I got a look at the car's driver. He looked awful. He was fattish, with ugly, long, scraggly hair, a stubbly face, a mustache, and mirrored eyeglasses. The car may have been white. It was towing some kind of small U-Haul trailer.

The car sped up again. We sped up, too. But this time the truck actually lost ground to the car. The truck driver jostled with the car to make the driver lose his nerve. But the car got ahead of us.

But father down the road we saw the car again. It was pulled over, with a cop car beside it, hunged over a smooth, steep shoulder of road. At first I thought the car had been pulled over for speeding. But looking at the car, I saw how its front fender was all mangled up, like the car had gotten into a crash. The driver was also hunched over the wheel.

The truck driver was now like my brother. The truck was like a pickup truck. We veered off to the left, onto a side road. We drove down into a wooded area.

But soon we were climbing trees. We had gotten high up in a dense tangle of trees and were looking down at the landscape. "My brother" said that when you looked from this high, you could figure out what kind of course you should take when you got back on the ground. But there was some kind of trick, he said, to being up here, that would help you know and remember the course you should take on the ground. I felt like I knew that trick as well. I remembered back to my days in the desert in New Mexico.

I continued climbing through all the trees. Some of them seemed skinny as saplings, unhealthy, even dead. I noticed a birch tree with silver bark.

A father  and his sons were at the base of the trees. I could hear them. They were getting ready to climb the trees. It was like this place was now a National Park.

For some reason the trees now seemed a lot weaker and more unstable than before. The boys (two of them? preteen) were now up in the canopy with me and my brother. My brother seemed to be getting along with them.

I wanted to get out of the trees. I felt like they were going to break soon. I was so afraid by now that I was clinging to the limbs and climbing around on my belly. I told my brother I was going back.

As I crawled along, the trees changed into something like a wood-slat bridge, which felt very weak to me. It led to something like a tree house, which was probably a visitor's center for this National Park.

I could hear the kids talking with their father, as if they were also including my brother and me in the conversation. I could also hear myself talk with them or imagine what I might have said to them. They were talking about what a good place this was and how nice it is to find some green space in a world that's been so overdeveloped.

I was crawling (more like slithering) through a doggy door that was really tight for my body. I came into a dirty space like a small landing for a set of steps. It was bright and dingy white. In the corner of the landing was the shell of a "roach" (probably more like a cicada). There might also have been some kind of goo coming out from somewhere.

In my head, one of the boys asked me the name of this park. I said, after thinking about it, "Greenburg."