(Entered in paper journal at 8 PM at home in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I was flying over bodies of water. They were in all different sizes and types but in weird, distorted senses. They all had disgusting, dirty water I was afraid to touch. At one point I flew over a "pool" like where a sandbox would be in a "playground." The "sandbox/pool" had a ghastly floor like limestone lumps or toad skin.
I stood by a swing set on a sandbar that edged into a large body of water. The singer Beck was by me, accusing me of something that implied I didn't value him as a person. I tried to prove that wasn't so.
I was flying over the body of water. Soon I was in it -- I had to go in it. I had to go under it and find a flesh-colored whale. There were lots of giant fish down there.
Somewhere far off, people were watching me. I had to prove to them that I was brave. But I also simply needed to find the whale -- regardless of how much I didn't want to.
The water disgusted me -- it was opaque and brown. I just waded in it. But I didn't want to go under the surface. There you couldn't see anything. Nothing was particularly bad. It was just disgusting -- fish deformed, fleshy, like severed arms. I was afraid they could bump into me without seeing me and spook me so much I would go crazy or contract a disease. But still I had to do it.
Dream 2
I was in some kind of building. Through wide, short windows I saw a Stealth Bomber. I called it something like an SR-10. It flew from left to right. I heard some people talking. Then I saw a couple Blackbirds. Then a whole procession of black jets, like cars of a train, blasted before the window.
I hurried outside to see. I was on a concrete area at the top of gravel hill (artificial) bordered by a fence. The jets flew low enough to be at eye level (obviously). But by the time I got outside all the black jets were gone. There were only grey jets, and only a few.
Some Mexican people, mostly kids, were chattering nearby. Some had been dropped off by some of the jets. I looked to my right, down the roughly two-hundred-foot slope, to a lot (like a parking lot!) full of jets.
The kids asked me if they could stay at my place (while they waited for the next wave of jets to come pick them up?). I thought to my place -- how I had left girl clothes everywhere and how the kids might dislike me for the girl clothes. I also thought of how dirty my place was.
I thought I couldn't have the kids stay with me and see what a loser I was. I gave the kids a weird excuse -- (I had to talk to my "landlady"?) -- making it clear I had to go away for a moment and then come back and tell the kids if they could stay, though I (possibly they) already knew it couldn't happen.
I was disappointed in myself. I thought, I can't even be brave enough to let these people into my house?
Showing posts with label shame from dirtiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shame from dirtiness. Show all posts
Sunday, February 5, 2017
Sunday, December 30, 2012
(2/4/09) i look awful; athletic heroes
(Entered in paper journal at 9 AM at Starbucks at Thirty-seventh Street and Park Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was sitting in a car in a parking lot that may have been partly asphalt and partly dirt. The parking lot was wide and empty. It was a sunny day. I was on the phone with my old boss and mentor EB, who may have been talking to me about how I needed to shape up in some way or another. I stood out of the car and was walking around, toward the front of the parking lot.
Coming into the parking lot were a few people I knew (and possibly some others I didn't know). At the front of this group was my old friend PD, who looked very good. She was tanned, thin, with good muscle tone and rich, blonde hair. I hoped PD wouldn't recognize me, and that if she did, that she'd think I was awful and want to avoid me. I didn't want PD to mention me to my old friend R.
I thought to myself, Well, thankfully, I do look awful. I looked down at myself. I was wearing an awful, old, orange t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts (what I, at this time in my life, was wearing for pajamas). I could tell I had lost a lot of weight, and that my hair and beard looked terrible. Continuing my phone conversation, I started scratching my ribs. Looking at my pose in the shadow on the dirt, I was satisfied that I really looked horrible -- I looked just like a drug addict or a diseased person.
I scuttled off toward my left, toward the chain-link fence boundary there, working my way back up toward my car. I was still talking with EB. I got back to my car. I few people I knew, including PD, were gathered around a picnic area near the car, as if we were in a national forest or in front of someone's house. My car, which had previously been exposed to sunlight in the parking lot, was now shaded over by a few trees. People were carrying things into the picnic area.
I had stepped into my car again. I was now ashamed for the appearance of my car (which was a very old Eagle that, in waking life, I'd owned while living in Arizona and New Mexico about seven years previous to this dream). The car looked okay. It was pretty empty. The back seats were pulled down so there was plenty of laying-down space. There was "car-trash" near the edges -- little scraps of paper, old scum, small change.
But I thought of the car as being extremely messy (in waking life, that car did end up being extremely cluttered, even filthy, as, toward the end of my stay in New Mexico, I began living in my car to save up money to get back to New York, and I had no other place to store all of my books, notebooks -- and the piles of cheap lingerie I would compulsively buy). I didn't want PD to see the car and know I lived in such an awful place.
I was somehow able to stand up completely straight inside the car. I now walked back out of the car, still speaking on the phone with EB. I agreed very loudly with something EB had said, so that PD would see I was talking with someone very important, like EB. PD didn't seem to pay me very much attention.
I was now in the back of the car. EB was telling me something about how I should really take better care of my clothing. I agreed with EB. I really wished I could take better care of my clothing.
From one of the hooks or seat-belt fixtures in the ceiling of the car, down diagonally to the window (?) on the left side of the car, were strung a neatly arranged bundle of scarves. The scarves were of different colors, all solid. One scarf was a creamy white. Another was an elegant maroon. The scarves all looked like women's scarves.
I thought I would look better if I wore these scarves, but I didn't think that was practical or reasonable, possibly because I couldn't wear so many scarves, or possibly because the scarves were women's scarves.
Dream #2
I was in a crowded bar with my old boss BS. The bar was a big square in the center of the room. The place might have been a sports bar. The floors, bar, and walls were wood. There might have been a second level around three walls of the fir first floor (?). There were neon signs on the walls and a large television screen covering most of the back wall.
BS and I were walking around the bar counter-clockwise, easily, as if the crowd were there but had none of the "push" of usual bar crowds. I was telling BS about a high school cross country runner who'd been one of my idols when I was in high school. I told BS that the runner hadn't been as famous as Adam Goucher (who actually had been a cross country star and and idol of mine when I was in high school), but how on a number of occasions he'd actually given Adam Goucher a good run for his money.
I could see two runners in a track race. Adam Goucher may have been wearing a red outfit, while the other person wore a blue one. The other person may have had an olive complexion, wavy, brown hair, a little stubble, and a lot of chest hair, and may have been a little more strongly built than Adam Goucher.
I then spoke with BS about Adam Goucher, and how he was really good in college, but how I really didn't know how he ended up professionally. Now the television screen was showing a high school (?) track race in which Adam Goucher was running. At least Adam Goucher, but possibly also a few other runners, had their running shirts' bottoms pulled up over their chests, exposing females breasts.
Dream #1
I was sitting in a car in a parking lot that may have been partly asphalt and partly dirt. The parking lot was wide and empty. It was a sunny day. I was on the phone with my old boss and mentor EB, who may have been talking to me about how I needed to shape up in some way or another. I stood out of the car and was walking around, toward the front of the parking lot.
Coming into the parking lot were a few people I knew (and possibly some others I didn't know). At the front of this group was my old friend PD, who looked very good. She was tanned, thin, with good muscle tone and rich, blonde hair. I hoped PD wouldn't recognize me, and that if she did, that she'd think I was awful and want to avoid me. I didn't want PD to mention me to my old friend R.
I thought to myself, Well, thankfully, I do look awful. I looked down at myself. I was wearing an awful, old, orange t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts (what I, at this time in my life, was wearing for pajamas). I could tell I had lost a lot of weight, and that my hair and beard looked terrible. Continuing my phone conversation, I started scratching my ribs. Looking at my pose in the shadow on the dirt, I was satisfied that I really looked horrible -- I looked just like a drug addict or a diseased person.
I scuttled off toward my left, toward the chain-link fence boundary there, working my way back up toward my car. I was still talking with EB. I got back to my car. I few people I knew, including PD, were gathered around a picnic area near the car, as if we were in a national forest or in front of someone's house. My car, which had previously been exposed to sunlight in the parking lot, was now shaded over by a few trees. People were carrying things into the picnic area.
I had stepped into my car again. I was now ashamed for the appearance of my car (which was a very old Eagle that, in waking life, I'd owned while living in Arizona and New Mexico about seven years previous to this dream). The car looked okay. It was pretty empty. The back seats were pulled down so there was plenty of laying-down space. There was "car-trash" near the edges -- little scraps of paper, old scum, small change.
But I thought of the car as being extremely messy (in waking life, that car did end up being extremely cluttered, even filthy, as, toward the end of my stay in New Mexico, I began living in my car to save up money to get back to New York, and I had no other place to store all of my books, notebooks -- and the piles of cheap lingerie I would compulsively buy). I didn't want PD to see the car and know I lived in such an awful place.
I was somehow able to stand up completely straight inside the car. I now walked back out of the car, still speaking on the phone with EB. I agreed very loudly with something EB had said, so that PD would see I was talking with someone very important, like EB. PD didn't seem to pay me very much attention.
I was now in the back of the car. EB was telling me something about how I should really take better care of my clothing. I agreed with EB. I really wished I could take better care of my clothing.
From one of the hooks or seat-belt fixtures in the ceiling of the car, down diagonally to the window (?) on the left side of the car, were strung a neatly arranged bundle of scarves. The scarves were of different colors, all solid. One scarf was a creamy white. Another was an elegant maroon. The scarves all looked like women's scarves.
I thought I would look better if I wore these scarves, but I didn't think that was practical or reasonable, possibly because I couldn't wear so many scarves, or possibly because the scarves were women's scarves.
Dream #2
I was in a crowded bar with my old boss BS. The bar was a big square in the center of the room. The place might have been a sports bar. The floors, bar, and walls were wood. There might have been a second level around three walls of the fir first floor (?). There were neon signs on the walls and a large television screen covering most of the back wall.
BS and I were walking around the bar counter-clockwise, easily, as if the crowd were there but had none of the "push" of usual bar crowds. I was telling BS about a high school cross country runner who'd been one of my idols when I was in high school. I told BS that the runner hadn't been as famous as Adam Goucher (who actually had been a cross country star and and idol of mine when I was in high school), but how on a number of occasions he'd actually given Adam Goucher a good run for his money.
I could see two runners in a track race. Adam Goucher may have been wearing a red outfit, while the other person wore a blue one. The other person may have had an olive complexion, wavy, brown hair, a little stubble, and a lot of chest hair, and may have been a little more strongly built than Adam Goucher.
I then spoke with BS about Adam Goucher, and how he was really good in college, but how I really didn't know how he ended up professionally. Now the television screen was showing a high school (?) track race in which Adam Goucher was running. At least Adam Goucher, but possibly also a few other runners, had their running shirts' bottoms pulled up over their chests, exposing females breasts.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
(5/4/09) bathroom flood
(Entered in paper journal at 7:41 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
It was night. I was probably in my apartment alone. But then I was in my apartment with my girlfriend H. I was in the bathroom. I was possibly sitting on the toilet at first. But then I was standing before my bathtub. The light in my bathroom was off. The shower curtain was open just a little.
I saw a couple little, black shapes darting around in the bathtub. I thought they were roaches. I was upset that I possibly had roaches in my house. But I wasn't sure what I had seen. So I pulled back the shower curtain.
There were little, black shapes darting around in the bathtub, some apparently two inches long, others of smaller size, down to tiny specks. These shapes didn't seem like roaches at all, now. They were formless, little blots. I thought they were products of my own sight, physical perturbations on my own eyes.
But I thought that, regardless of what the visions were, I had let my bathroom get too dirty. I thought that if I didn't clean my bathroom, real roaches eventually would show up. So I started sweeping my bathroom floor. As I cleaned, I could hear H talk about how she couldn't study unless her house was clean.
Some of the dust seemed caked on the floor or sticky. There was now sudsy water washing up and down the floor, around the toilet. It started sloshing back and forth so violently that I had to back out of the bathroom.
It seemed to be lightning and thundering outside. There didn't seem to be any lights on in the house. The water sloshed back and forth through about half the length of the bathroom.
H may have said something, worrying about the water staying or attracting more roaches. I said, "Don't worry. We just have to wait for it to drain away."
I could now see a drain-grate. Water was sucking down into that grate, leaving milky foam behind. The water made a foamy, violently gurgling sound as it went down the grate. I felt ashamed that this mess was keeping H from studying, or that it might keep her from studying if she were to stay at my place.
Dream #1
It was night. I was probably in my apartment alone. But then I was in my apartment with my girlfriend H. I was in the bathroom. I was possibly sitting on the toilet at first. But then I was standing before my bathtub. The light in my bathroom was off. The shower curtain was open just a little.
I saw a couple little, black shapes darting around in the bathtub. I thought they were roaches. I was upset that I possibly had roaches in my house. But I wasn't sure what I had seen. So I pulled back the shower curtain.
There were little, black shapes darting around in the bathtub, some apparently two inches long, others of smaller size, down to tiny specks. These shapes didn't seem like roaches at all, now. They were formless, little blots. I thought they were products of my own sight, physical perturbations on my own eyes.
But I thought that, regardless of what the visions were, I had let my bathroom get too dirty. I thought that if I didn't clean my bathroom, real roaches eventually would show up. So I started sweeping my bathroom floor. As I cleaned, I could hear H talk about how she couldn't study unless her house was clean.
Some of the dust seemed caked on the floor or sticky. There was now sudsy water washing up and down the floor, around the toilet. It started sloshing back and forth so violently that I had to back out of the bathroom.
It seemed to be lightning and thundering outside. There didn't seem to be any lights on in the house. The water sloshed back and forth through about half the length of the bathroom.
H may have said something, worrying about the water staying or attracting more roaches. I said, "Don't worry. We just have to wait for it to drain away."
I could now see a drain-grate. Water was sucking down into that grate, leaving milky foam behind. The water made a foamy, violently gurgling sound as it went down the grate. I felt ashamed that this mess was keeping H from studying, or that it might keep her from studying if she were to stay at my place.
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