(9/2/05) joyless euphoria

(Entered in paper journal at 7:15 AM at Starbucks on 86th Street and Lexington Avenue in Manhattan.)

Dream 1

I was in a bedroom, half of which was more like an empty, sheet metal-walled warehouse. The bedroom part was bedroom-sized, and the warehouse part was warehouse-sized. There were five or six couches close together, heaped and draped with disheveled blankets. At first I sat on the floor, legs folded lazily under me.

My friend R, somewhere, possibly walking behind the couches, said how when he had gone out last night with some of our mutual friends from college, that BMC had (to R's delight) played out some personal joke to the point where everybody was yelling at him to shut up.

I thought this was funny at first. But then I realized that I hadn't been told anything about our friends planing to hang out. In fact, R had asked me earlier in the day if I had any plans for later on. I had told him no. He asked me if I could, then, stay home (to watch his dog?) and I said yes. So he had tricked me to stay at home instead of going out with our friends.

R was now sitting on a couch, covered in some blankets. I told him, "You know you did that to me! You asshole!" R just sneered and chuckled and didn't look at me, as if he didn't have to.

I told him, "Don't ever do that again or you'll regret it."

R said, "I'll never regret anything."

I got right in R's face (although now he was something like a sort of pretty woman dressed as a Monty Python parody of an old woman) and I pointed at "him" and yelled, "I'll punch you in your face! I'll bust your goddamn eyes! I'll do it right now! You deserve it right now!"

"He" still didn't even look at me. "He" said, ""You'll regret that, if you do that."

I screamed and pulled "him" off the couch. It was like I was mostly grabbing blankets. Then I threw some naked person onto the ground. It was like a face-down version of me. But it "was" "R's mom."

I yelled, as if screaming in R's ear, that I was going to fuck his mom now that I had kicked his ass. I had flipped the person over. It was now something like a headless version of a boy or a girl. But in some sense it was a beautiful woman about my age. I straddled the "woman" (who I think was now facing down again).

The room was all living room now. It was small and bright, with one couch and one TV.

I hesitated over penetrating the "woman," going into her vagina as she lay stomach down with her legs closed. The tip of my penis hurt. I felt like I had warm goo all over me from my inner thighs up to my bellybutton. Then I had an orgasm. I pulled myself out I sat at the "woman's" feet. There were two stomach-down bodies now. I was in between them.

Now some black and white photo of a red-haired, crew-cut, redneck-looking bully appeared before me. A voice asked me something about my violent behavior. It compared me to (Eminem?) and said the name strangely.

I was still feeling the joyless euphoria of orgasm, which also contained some undertones of a savage blood lust. It was like I was a murderous animal listening to the seemingly meaningless speech of a human.

The voice repeated the name again and again. As it did I became more and more aware of myself. Something in the photo changed as well, as if an invisible camera swipe were slowly being lowered over it. I thought the photo would take on color. But it stayed black and white.

The more the name repeated, the more aware of myself I became, the more I was ashamed of what I had done. But I also felt more and more of a surge toward orgasm again -- once again, no pleasure, just that insect-like euphoria.

Now I was fully aware, almost as if I had woken from a dream, and I ejaculated, almost terrified that now I'd never be able to change who I was.

(8/12/07) dream analysis by stock analyst; my name is preemie

(Entered in paper journal at 8 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was on the phone with my boss DO. He was with my psychiatrist A. I "saw" that they were in a room like my great grandmother's living room. DO had rushed to the phone when I had come on. He told me he had read the letter I had given to my psychiatrist.

Trying to help me somehow, as if everybody were panicked about my condition, DO said, "I see what the Dark Girl and the girl with black eyes mean." I "saw" that the Dark Girl was a Mexican or Native American girl with very dark skin. The girl with black eyes was like classic grey alien, except maybe only waist-height, and somehow childlike.

DO said, "The Dark Girl means you want to control things. The girl with black eyes means you have no knowledge of history."

Dream #2

I walked into a gigantic, K-Mart-like store with my family. AN, a temporary assistant at my company, was with us. We all went our separate ways, but AN kept following me. I was trying to shake him off. He was trying to gauge where I really wanted to go, but he was acting like he wasn't trying to follow me at all.

AN said, "I'm going up to the electronics section." So I walked up there with him to put him where he said he wasted to go and thus "oblige" him to stay there and not follow me.

When we got to the electronics section, in the back of the store, I said, "I don't have any interest in electronics. I'm leaving." I headed off toward the left wall of the store. I felt like AN was still following me. I ran faster and faster and wove in and out of aisles to throw AN off my trail.

A kid pulling a cart stacked almost to the ceiling (maybe fifty feet high?) with boxes got in my way. I jumped and flew over the boxes and onto the top shelf of what looked like an aisle of "big-box" warehouse shelves. I ran along the top shelf toward the entrance of the store and the cash registers.

When I got to the end of the aisle I could see down (way down) to the entrance and cash registers. This whole area was moderately busy with people. AN ran, crouched, from behind a display case island, like a counter of watch displays, and hid behind one of the unused cash registers. I could tell, by the way AN was moving and hiding, that he was waiting until he saw me come back around to this part of the store so he could start following me again.

I leapt down to the cash register. I pulled AN out from behind the register. I yelled, "Why are you following me?!"

AN ignored my question. He was about to call out to some partners of his who weren't necessarily following me but were lurking around, just in case they needed to help AN with stalking me.

But before AN could call out to his partners, I covered his mouth and nose. I held AN's mouth and nose for so long that AN died.

AN was now my brother. I held him in my arms. I carried him through the store, trying to find my family. The store was now a restaurant set up as some kind of beach bar. It was humongous. The place was full of people. Some people sat on couches.

I couldn't believe I had killed my brother. I also didn't want to be accused of it -- even though I was obviously guilty!

I got to a completely dark corner of the bar-like area. There were still, apparently, people sitting in this corner of the bar. For a moment I thought I could see the faces of the people. But when I got up to the people I couldn't see anything at all.

I called, "Is my family still here?"

The people all replied. They all sounded young, like they were in their mid-twenties. They said, "No, not here." I turned around. I still couldn't see anything. The people called, "Hey, wait a minute. Who are you? We don't even know who you are to help you."

I said, "M... m... my name is Preemie."

(3/17/09) being a jerk to a jerk

Dream #1

I was at a party in a living room that was dim, as if its only light came from some other room, possibly a kitchen. The living room was large and full of people. I may have been kneeling before a couch.

In the distance to my right a man sat on another couch. The man looked like he was in his forties. He was tall and strong with slightly shaggy, grey hair. The man started shouting all kinds of things at me, like he was trying to get me to fight him. I ignored him. I figured he was just a jerk. I may have stood up and walked away.

A little later I was "back at the party." A group of people were all around me, bragging about how they, too, had treated the man like garbage. One person in particular, my co-worker AL, was before me, telling me how she had gone straight up to the man and stomped on his feet.

I thought how unfair this was to the man -- it must really have hurt him. But now I saw that AL wasn't wearing shoes. She was only wearing red and white striped socks.