(8/10/07) narcissistic toilet

(Entered in paper journal at 5:45 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was in a building like a hotel. My mom, who may have worked at the same place as I, had called me back to work when she saw that I had filled out some internet form incorrectly. I could "see" my mom up in some top level, a smallish area like an apartment, with thin, plywood walls, like in a double-wide trailer. My mom sat on a high stool and typed on a computer that stood on a narrow table.

I went up floors through different levels of the hotel: a nice mezzanine, some kind of fire escape area, and finally a lovely series of floors like dormitory or apartment halls.

I found a bathroom on one floor. I went in. I needed to defecate. There were three toilets. I felt like since there were three toilets, and all three were currently unoccupied, at least one must have been left "sabotaged" by someone.

So I checked the toilets. The one farthest from me was a wide stall, like the handicap-equipped stalls. I didn't want to go in there. The second one looked fine at first glance. But when I walked in I saw that it was a stall within a stall, i.e. you needed to open two doors to get to the toilet. Something about this seemed discomforting, so I walked out of the stall. The third stall was almost regular. I sat down on the toilet.

I began defecating. I looked down into the bowl of the toilet. My feces was orange-brown. And it just kept coming and coming out of me. I thought, This much shit, of this strange color, can't be good.

I saw, in the reflection of the water, the feces coming out of my anus. I thought, So this is what my anus looks like. I felt I shouldn't look at the reflection too long: I might get depressed by the carnal aspect of my existence, or else become morbidly drawn in to, mesmerized by, the "dirty parts" of my own body.

I looked away, but somehow I could still see the reflection, not as if in my mind's eye, but as if, though I was looking upward, forward, another part of me, physically, were still looking downward.

(9/25/08) crapping in unused bedroom

(Entered in paper journal at 6:15 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)

Dream #1

I was in my house. I went into my second room, the room I never use.

(In waking life, due to constant noise from my upstairs neighbors, which seemed to follow me from apartment to apartment, regardless of where I lived, since about early 2004, I had sought out a one-bedroom apartment. My plan was not to use one of the rooms -- it would serve as a buffer. The plan didn't help me much -- my upstairs neighbors in the place I lived in from January of 2007 through January of 2012 were always brutally loud.)

It was daytime, and  greyish light filled the room. I was shocked by how little I knew this room. I felt ripped off in some way by the fact that I never used the room. I didn't even know it, I thought to myself. I proved how little I knew this room by looking at an enormous closet, which was on the right wall, just in from the door. I hadn't even known this closet existed.

The closet was completely empty. There were a few big shelves in the closet. They looked sprinkled over either with dust or with roach castings. I couldn't believe that dustiness or dirtiness was even beginning to encroach on a space I had never used.

There was a toilet facing out to the front window. I sat down on it. I defecated. My feces was really watery, and I felt like I was releasing little, white triangles of paper as I defecated. I may have felt bad when I thought of flushing the toilet, thinking that something bad might happen since the toilet hadn't been used in so long.