(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.
Showing posts with label psychiatric hospital. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychiatric hospital. Show all posts
Saturday, February 11, 2017
Sunday, February 5, 2017
(10/10/16) sister & junkyard; natural, real, serious, and sane
(Entered in paper journal at 8 PM at home in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I was with my sister (?) in a junkyard. It was supposed to be a place where planes took off. but nothing was running today (?). My sister was disappointed that I had pointed out a bus and a "plane" -- both mangled and burnt-looking. The "plane" was actually just the controls in a cockpit, twisted and gnarled and red and meaty like Brundle at the end of Cronenberg's version of The Fly.
Dream 2
There was some talk about a little girl causing big problems. I walked into a living room. I realized in some way or another that I was dreaming. I jumped over a couple couches and floated over them to a window.
There was a cube of candles hanging on strings. They were in weird shapes, monocolor (???), like ridged rectangles wrapping around a smooth cube. One candle was purple. Possibly another was orange. There were others.
I turned to the right and saw other candle-like ornaments on a white set of shelves. At first the room was small, cluttered, dirty, scary. Then it was bright and open but still cluttered. I jumped over the couches.
Now I was in a huge room. The room was a mess, like an opulent living room gone to decay. There were tall, tall walls on which the turquoise paint was chipping. The floor was hard. Where couches had been, there was now a lot of space, and then rows of folding chairs. There were two paintings on the left wall. One "painting" on the wall I face was inside a box at the top of a tall column like the face on a grandfather clock. But the clock was tall, tall, high in the air. There may have been a tall mantle over a tall fireplace.
I flew up to the paintings on the left wall. One was in a classical British (?) style. They were portraits, maybe turquoise-themed.
I hit my feet against the wall. I flew to the grandfather clock. I looked inside. I saw the painting for an instant. Then it shifted to a piece of box art like a work by Joseph Cornell except somewhat tacky. There was a paper image of a figure collaged into in the work -- a D.D. Home-like man in black and white, and almost crumpled up. There was random junk all over the scene of the work. I shook the grandfather clock, trying to get the beautiful picture back.
I sank to the ground as two women (vague) came into the room. They were talking to me as if this were my my cell or dormitory in an insane asylum. I tried to prove I was not insane and that I could do things like fly. There was a loud TV somewhere in the room. I jumped up and flew like I was back-floating (naked except for grey briefs?) over chairs.
I couldn't fly very well or very far. But the two women said something like "That's the result of that yoga stuff he does."
I jumped up in the air to fly again, to prove (why?) that I wasn't doing yoga or being crazy, but that I was simply being natural, real, serious, and sane.
Dream 1
I was with my sister (?) in a junkyard. It was supposed to be a place where planes took off. but nothing was running today (?). My sister was disappointed that I had pointed out a bus and a "plane" -- both mangled and burnt-looking. The "plane" was actually just the controls in a cockpit, twisted and gnarled and red and meaty like Brundle at the end of Cronenberg's version of The Fly.
Dream 2
There was some talk about a little girl causing big problems. I walked into a living room. I realized in some way or another that I was dreaming. I jumped over a couple couches and floated over them to a window.
There was a cube of candles hanging on strings. They were in weird shapes, monocolor (???), like ridged rectangles wrapping around a smooth cube. One candle was purple. Possibly another was orange. There were others.
I turned to the right and saw other candle-like ornaments on a white set of shelves. At first the room was small, cluttered, dirty, scary. Then it was bright and open but still cluttered. I jumped over the couches.
Now I was in a huge room. The room was a mess, like an opulent living room gone to decay. There were tall, tall walls on which the turquoise paint was chipping. The floor was hard. Where couches had been, there was now a lot of space, and then rows of folding chairs. There were two paintings on the left wall. One "painting" on the wall I face was inside a box at the top of a tall column like the face on a grandfather clock. But the clock was tall, tall, high in the air. There may have been a tall mantle over a tall fireplace.
I flew up to the paintings on the left wall. One was in a classical British (?) style. They were portraits, maybe turquoise-themed.
I hit my feet against the wall. I flew to the grandfather clock. I looked inside. I saw the painting for an instant. Then it shifted to a piece of box art like a work by Joseph Cornell except somewhat tacky. There was a paper image of a figure collaged into in the work -- a D.D. Home-like man in black and white, and almost crumpled up. There was random junk all over the scene of the work. I shook the grandfather clock, trying to get the beautiful picture back.
I sank to the ground as two women (vague) came into the room. They were talking to me as if this were my my cell or dormitory in an insane asylum. I tried to prove I was not insane and that I could do things like fly. There was a loud TV somewhere in the room. I jumped up and flew like I was back-floating (naked except for grey briefs?) over chairs.
I couldn't fly very well or very far. But the two women said something like "That's the result of that yoga stuff he does."
I jumped up in the air to fly again, to prove (why?) that I wasn't doing yoga or being crazy, but that I was simply being natural, real, serious, and sane.
Friday, February 1, 2013
(12/8/07) natural-looking zombies
(Entered into paper journal at 8:15 AM at Heights Coffee in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was in an "office" that looked more like a small apartment. I was waiting to do a volunteer event. I sat in a seat like a folding lawn chair.
The light in the room was yellow. There was another room next to mine. This room was more like an actual office than my room was. The head volunteer person sat in there. I was waiting for the head volunteer person to be ready. I had arrived at 6:30 AM. The event wouldn't begin until 8 AM.
I had brought a couple plastic bags full of food with me. I figured since I had enough time, I would go back home and drop this stuff off. I walked into the office to tell the head volunteer person so.
The head volunteer person sat at a desk with a computer. She had short, black hair. Beside her was a tall, fat man -- the man she had been waiting for (???). I told them I would be back soon.
I walked out the door. I didn't really feel like I as actually leaving. I felt like the leaders didn't feel that way, either. I felt like in some way this place was really a place for crazy people, and that even though I could leave, I'd have to come back.
I was in a long hallway with tall, white walls and clay-red floors. The hallway had tall, arched windows that let in a lot of light. On the wall opposite the windows a group of people sat in a circle of folding chairs.
Some people may also have been sitting in hospital beds. This was a psychiatric session. I sat down, but I didn't feel like I belonged here. I tried to remember why I was here. If someone asked me, I didn't want to be unable to remember. But I still couldn't remember why I was here. So I stood up to leave.
As I was leaving, my senior co-worker TCR called out to me. I turned and saw him sitting with everybody else. He tried to explain to me why I did belong. I might have gone back to sit in the circle.
I was now with a group of people on an empty city street, like a warehouse district. It was yellowy sunny but cold. The group of us were hiding from zombie-like people. They would either attack and eat you or turn you into one of them.
We had gotten to a slight slope, with possibly a fenced-off schoolyard. We hid behind a white car by the curb. Across the street from us were a gang of zombies. They disguised themselves (instinctively?) to look normal.
One of our group fell for the zombies' trick. He was a tall, thinnish, blonde man, kind of dumb, wearing a white, knit hat, a white, puffy jacket, and faded blue jeans. Snow had begun gusting through the street, somehow making the air orange-red-pink. We tried to call the man back.
I stood on an empty city street corner, with tall, redbrick buildings all around me. It was a clear day. I stood before a car full of zombies. The zombies looked like average people of all types. The car was so full the zombies could barely move. I was surprised the zombies were smart enough to drive the car.
My group was somewhere behind the car. I thought perhaps my group was, now, the zombies in the car. I thought they'd been turned into zombies while I'd been away. I thought they'd tricked me into thinking they were still normal until I'd gotten close to them. Now they would attack me.
I turned to run. The zombies weren't driving after me yet. I believed their plan was to smash me into a building. But they were having a hard time coalescing enough -- putting all their will together well enough to move as a group -- to come after me.
I tried to run as fast as I could, while also trying to keep my balance on occasional patches of ice that slicked the road. I ran down a wide street with small buildings on either side. Only a few blocks down was a beach and then the ocean.
I ran down to the beach. I ran along the beach, trying to keep my speed up in the soft sand. The farther I ran, the more the coastline narrowed. Home properties fenced off more and more land, eating more and more into the beach. The fenced-off areas were like lawns -- just lawny backyards.
Eventually I an half in and half out of the water. Then it was like I ran through a muddy river. Even still, I worried that I might get arrested here for trespassing. Probably, I thought, the sections of water I ran through also belonged to the people who owned the fenced-off properties.
I came to a weird-looking, almost suburban, city area. A lot of people were around. A few people in a group were near the banks of the river (or sound?). The fenced-off areas disappeared. It was just open lawn, like a park, with a town square and houses in the distance. The group of people seemed normal and seemed to welcome me.
I stood up onto the lawn. I thought I would join the people.
Dream #1
I was in an "office" that looked more like a small apartment. I was waiting to do a volunteer event. I sat in a seat like a folding lawn chair.
The light in the room was yellow. There was another room next to mine. This room was more like an actual office than my room was. The head volunteer person sat in there. I was waiting for the head volunteer person to be ready. I had arrived at 6:30 AM. The event wouldn't begin until 8 AM.
I had brought a couple plastic bags full of food with me. I figured since I had enough time, I would go back home and drop this stuff off. I walked into the office to tell the head volunteer person so.
The head volunteer person sat at a desk with a computer. She had short, black hair. Beside her was a tall, fat man -- the man she had been waiting for (???). I told them I would be back soon.
I walked out the door. I didn't really feel like I as actually leaving. I felt like the leaders didn't feel that way, either. I felt like in some way this place was really a place for crazy people, and that even though I could leave, I'd have to come back.
I was in a long hallway with tall, white walls and clay-red floors. The hallway had tall, arched windows that let in a lot of light. On the wall opposite the windows a group of people sat in a circle of folding chairs.
Some people may also have been sitting in hospital beds. This was a psychiatric session. I sat down, but I didn't feel like I belonged here. I tried to remember why I was here. If someone asked me, I didn't want to be unable to remember. But I still couldn't remember why I was here. So I stood up to leave.
As I was leaving, my senior co-worker TCR called out to me. I turned and saw him sitting with everybody else. He tried to explain to me why I did belong. I might have gone back to sit in the circle.
I was now with a group of people on an empty city street, like a warehouse district. It was yellowy sunny but cold. The group of us were hiding from zombie-like people. They would either attack and eat you or turn you into one of them.
We had gotten to a slight slope, with possibly a fenced-off schoolyard. We hid behind a white car by the curb. Across the street from us were a gang of zombies. They disguised themselves (instinctively?) to look normal.
One of our group fell for the zombies' trick. He was a tall, thinnish, blonde man, kind of dumb, wearing a white, knit hat, a white, puffy jacket, and faded blue jeans. Snow had begun gusting through the street, somehow making the air orange-red-pink. We tried to call the man back.
I stood on an empty city street corner, with tall, redbrick buildings all around me. It was a clear day. I stood before a car full of zombies. The zombies looked like average people of all types. The car was so full the zombies could barely move. I was surprised the zombies were smart enough to drive the car.
My group was somewhere behind the car. I thought perhaps my group was, now, the zombies in the car. I thought they'd been turned into zombies while I'd been away. I thought they'd tricked me into thinking they were still normal until I'd gotten close to them. Now they would attack me.
I turned to run. The zombies weren't driving after me yet. I believed their plan was to smash me into a building. But they were having a hard time coalescing enough -- putting all their will together well enough to move as a group -- to come after me.
I tried to run as fast as I could, while also trying to keep my balance on occasional patches of ice that slicked the road. I ran down a wide street with small buildings on either side. Only a few blocks down was a beach and then the ocean.
I ran down to the beach. I ran along the beach, trying to keep my speed up in the soft sand. The farther I ran, the more the coastline narrowed. Home properties fenced off more and more land, eating more and more into the beach. The fenced-off areas were like lawns -- just lawny backyards.
Eventually I an half in and half out of the water. Then it was like I ran through a muddy river. Even still, I worried that I might get arrested here for trespassing. Probably, I thought, the sections of water I ran through also belonged to the people who owned the fenced-off properties.
I came to a weird-looking, almost suburban, city area. A lot of people were around. A few people in a group were near the banks of the river (or sound?). The fenced-off areas disappeared. It was just open lawn, like a park, with a town square and houses in the distance. The group of people seemed normal and seemed to welcome me.
I stood up onto the lawn. I thought I would join the people.
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