(Entered in paper journal at 4 PM at Starbucks on Broadway and Liberty in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I was on a floor, maybe the twelfth, of a tall building. I had been following a lady around, maybe to help her with something, possibly to apologize for something. I don't think she wanted me to follow her. We went past an elevator bank.
She disappeared. I went into one of the elevators, thinking she'd gone in there. I wanted to go down either to the tenth or eleventh floor. I knew I'd have to skip a floor to get there, but I didn't know if the elevator could go that far.
The elevator started going down before the doors closed. As it was only halfway down the floor it stopped, with the doors open, like the elevator car was just a shaft with a floor. A woman stood in the half-open door crack and looked down on me. She had stopped the car.
I worried that now I wouldn't get down on time. I did something and was going again. But now I was going down really fast and for a longer time than I thought I should have been going. There were windows and blinds in front of me. I pulled down one of the blinds to see that we were descending onto a "subway" platform.
When I pulled away from the blinds it was like I was sitting on a Metro North train. The train stopped. I got out. I may have been with woman.
I turned around. I "saw" that I had left some papers and books in my seat. I wanted to go back and get them. But the doors had closed.
I ran up to the front of the train, which was now a long limousine with black-tinted windows. I knocked on the glass. I knew that as the car hadn't stopped moving yet the driver would open the door, although he still might be rude and bullying and prevent me from getting my stuff.
Showing posts with label subway. Show all posts
Showing posts with label subway. Show all posts
Saturday, March 4, 2017
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
(11/20/15) flubbing the revival; out of my way
(Entered in paper journal at 11:33 AM at Starbucks on 43rd Street and 3rd Avenue in Manhattan.)
Dream 1
I gave some speech about architecture at a lecture hall that looked like a cafe. I was trying to explain how Gothic Revival architecture gave way to the architecture of the twentieth century as a result of philosophy being shifted to a more egalitarian from a more stratified or hierarchical outlook. But I kept messing up on the centuries and on the names of different styles of architecture. I think I may also have visualized some of the modern architecture and realized I actually hated it.
Dream 2
I walked down steps into a subway. A few people came walking up, including a black boy and girl who walked up near the same handrail I held going down. I could see that the guy saw me and that he wasn't getting out of my way. But I wouldn't move, either. The girl moved into the middle of the stairway.
I got right up to the guy. We both stopped. He stared at me and wouldn't move, so I shoved him. He shoved me back, but I shoved him again, harder.
The boy yelled, "Why did you do that? You only had to get out of my way!"
I told him, "You should have gotten out of my way. I had the right of way."
He didn't know what I was talking about.
I said, "When you walk down the street, or down stairs, or whatever, you always take the right hand side, like you do in driving. It's just being polite. If you had been on your right side and I would have run into you, then you'd be right to yell at me, cause I'd have been on the wrong side."
He said, "Oh, well that makes a lot of sense." He gave me five and walked up the steps.
I walked down, feeling bad that I had given the kid such a speech. And I had only done it because I felt like he had made me late.
I got onto the platform. It was like the platform at the Union Square subway station, only bigger and darker, like it was shut down or under construction. A few people stood here and there along the platform. There was a train stopped, with its doors open, on the left side. I knew that was the train I wanted, but that it was held in the station while it changed service (from being a XXXXX train to being a XXXXX train).
I denied to myself that I had to get on that train, insisting that a fast XXXXX train would come on the right side. But I knew, even as a train pulled up, that that was silly; the trains on the right side would get me totally lost.
I was a little angry again, and I still didn't want to get on the left train. I knew that if that kid hadn't gotten in my way (or if I had just gone out of my way), I would actually have caught a quick XXXXX train.
Dream 1
I gave some speech about architecture at a lecture hall that looked like a cafe. I was trying to explain how Gothic Revival architecture gave way to the architecture of the twentieth century as a result of philosophy being shifted to a more egalitarian from a more stratified or hierarchical outlook. But I kept messing up on the centuries and on the names of different styles of architecture. I think I may also have visualized some of the modern architecture and realized I actually hated it.
Dream 2
I walked down steps into a subway. A few people came walking up, including a black boy and girl who walked up near the same handrail I held going down. I could see that the guy saw me and that he wasn't getting out of my way. But I wouldn't move, either. The girl moved into the middle of the stairway.
I got right up to the guy. We both stopped. He stared at me and wouldn't move, so I shoved him. He shoved me back, but I shoved him again, harder.
The boy yelled, "Why did you do that? You only had to get out of my way!"
I told him, "You should have gotten out of my way. I had the right of way."
He didn't know what I was talking about.
I said, "When you walk down the street, or down stairs, or whatever, you always take the right hand side, like you do in driving. It's just being polite. If you had been on your right side and I would have run into you, then you'd be right to yell at me, cause I'd have been on the wrong side."
He said, "Oh, well that makes a lot of sense." He gave me five and walked up the steps.
I walked down, feeling bad that I had given the kid such a speech. And I had only done it because I felt like he had made me late.
I got onto the platform. It was like the platform at the Union Square subway station, only bigger and darker, like it was shut down or under construction. A few people stood here and there along the platform. There was a train stopped, with its doors open, on the left side. I knew that was the train I wanted, but that it was held in the station while it changed service (from being a XXXXX train to being a XXXXX train).
I denied to myself that I had to get on that train, insisting that a fast XXXXX train would come on the right side. But I knew, even as a train pulled up, that that was silly; the trains on the right side would get me totally lost.
I was a little angry again, and I still didn't want to get on the left train. I knew that if that kid hadn't gotten in my way (or if I had just gone out of my way), I would actually have caught a quick XXXXX train.
Sunday, February 5, 2017
(10/14/06) this isn't the brazil you were thinking of; a turbojet panic; snail email
(Entered in paper journal at 9:03 AM at Ozzie's Coffee Shop on Garfield and 5th in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I was on a subway. I was trying to get somewhere, but I had gone too far. The few people on the train (mostly Mexican) were telling me so. We stopped at a very wide station with wide, concrete overhangs -- but a very airy place on a grey day -- and like it was in an empty wilderness. I had to take a few stops down to get to a place where I could cross to a train heading in the opposite direction and head back up.
I was in "my bedroom." I may have been living with my mom and everybody else. I was hysterical with grief. I was trying to get to Brazil, but I knew I couldn't get past security the way I was. I had shot myself up with drugs (looked like roach powder from Cronenberg's film of Naked Lunch), either today or in the past couple days, and I knew that would all still be in my system.
But I got even more sorrowful when I recalled that I had actually donated blood after having shot up. Who knew what diseases might be in the blood of someone who shot themselves up with drugs like I had? I hoped the drugs and disease had worked their way out of my system by the time I had donated blood. I felt trapped in my room.
I was on the train. It had been a three hour ride from New York to Brazil. We pulled in by a shore. I walked over to a plaza of wood shop booths. Some mission-style buildings were in the distance.
But someone told me, "This isn't the Brazil you were thinking of. You have to get on a train and go four more hours to get into the main Brazil."
I thought, Do I have time for that? I couldn't remember whether I was here for just one day or for a long time.
Dream 2
I and a friend (unknown/unseen) were in an aviation museum. We came to a small room big enough only to contain a jet like an F-16. It was lit very comfortably and seemed almost like a living room.
My friend showed me a button that could activate the jet from the outside, on the underside. I knew it was there, too: we were both jet experts. But I was surprised it could actually start the jet, which I assumed was decommissioned for the museum.
The friend was now typing at a computer terminal hooked to the button (which was now a flesh-colored, plasticky outlet). The computer was so low he had to sit on the floor with his legs folded under him to type.
As he typed a turbojet beside the man activated. I stood beside it -- I hadn't been aware of its presence on the jet until now. It was bright silver, gnarled with smooth, beautiful pipes. I could see this was actually the strong engine on the jet. I was afraid the friend would get us in trouble for igniting the jet, but I also wanted to see it run. I could feel the intensity of the turbojet.
But a kid who was now with us stood right behind the jet. I pulled him away and held him very close to me. I may have been a woman. I tried to convince the kid, though he wouldn't believe me, that when these jets ignited they would disintegrate him. He had scared the heck out of me by standing right there.
Dream 3
A huge stack of envelopes on a table. They were like emails -- I read them as if off a screen. But I only read their title lines. But somehow a message from my company's sales and research liaison JB made it clear that I needed to read the stack of messages, especially la series of messages sent by him.
I opened one of the messages. It began, "Thank you, first of all, for the good wishes for me and my family. Would you mind..." (at this point he gave me some task to complete).
Dream 1
I was on a subway. I was trying to get somewhere, but I had gone too far. The few people on the train (mostly Mexican) were telling me so. We stopped at a very wide station with wide, concrete overhangs -- but a very airy place on a grey day -- and like it was in an empty wilderness. I had to take a few stops down to get to a place where I could cross to a train heading in the opposite direction and head back up.
I was in "my bedroom." I may have been living with my mom and everybody else. I was hysterical with grief. I was trying to get to Brazil, but I knew I couldn't get past security the way I was. I had shot myself up with drugs (looked like roach powder from Cronenberg's film of Naked Lunch), either today or in the past couple days, and I knew that would all still be in my system.
But I got even more sorrowful when I recalled that I had actually donated blood after having shot up. Who knew what diseases might be in the blood of someone who shot themselves up with drugs like I had? I hoped the drugs and disease had worked their way out of my system by the time I had donated blood. I felt trapped in my room.
I was on the train. It had been a three hour ride from New York to Brazil. We pulled in by a shore. I walked over to a plaza of wood shop booths. Some mission-style buildings were in the distance.
But someone told me, "This isn't the Brazil you were thinking of. You have to get on a train and go four more hours to get into the main Brazil."
I thought, Do I have time for that? I couldn't remember whether I was here for just one day or for a long time.
Dream 2
I and a friend (unknown/unseen) were in an aviation museum. We came to a small room big enough only to contain a jet like an F-16. It was lit very comfortably and seemed almost like a living room.
My friend showed me a button that could activate the jet from the outside, on the underside. I knew it was there, too: we were both jet experts. But I was surprised it could actually start the jet, which I assumed was decommissioned for the museum.
The friend was now typing at a computer terminal hooked to the button (which was now a flesh-colored, plasticky outlet). The computer was so low he had to sit on the floor with his legs folded under him to type.
As he typed a turbojet beside the man activated. I stood beside it -- I hadn't been aware of its presence on the jet until now. It was bright silver, gnarled with smooth, beautiful pipes. I could see this was actually the strong engine on the jet. I was afraid the friend would get us in trouble for igniting the jet, but I also wanted to see it run. I could feel the intensity of the turbojet.
But a kid who was now with us stood right behind the jet. I pulled him away and held him very close to me. I may have been a woman. I tried to convince the kid, though he wouldn't believe me, that when these jets ignited they would disintegrate him. He had scared the heck out of me by standing right there.
Dream 3
A huge stack of envelopes on a table. They were like emails -- I read them as if off a screen. But I only read their title lines. But somehow a message from my company's sales and research liaison JB made it clear that I needed to read the stack of messages, especially la series of messages sent by him.
I opened one of the messages. It began, "Thank you, first of all, for the good wishes for me and my family. Would you mind..." (at this point he gave me some task to complete).
Friday, February 1, 2013
(12/9/07) deadly friends; las vegas descent
(Entered in paper journal at 9:25 AM at Connecticut Muffin in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I stood on a subway platform with my old friend R and his fiancee L. The platform was very busy, but it was wide, with tall ceilings. I was waiting for a Q-train. As one train pulled up, R started talking about how he and L did something really cool that I could have been a part of if I hadn't stopped being friends with him.
The train that pulled up was an N-train. It was heading in my direction. But I needed a Q-train. Through the windows of the train I saw that my train was coming, but on the other platform. I ran off from R and L, kind of happy not to have to listen to R's talking anymore.
I didn't know if I could make my train. The stairwell up, which I would need to take to cross and get down to the other platform, was full, mostly of Hispanic people, mainly Mexican. Somehow, though I managed to jump about three-quarters of the way up the stairways side and grab the handrails.
I waited until a group of people made an opening for me. Then I flipped myself onto the stairs. The handrails were a softish-feeling aluminum.
I quickly ran to the other stairway and jumped down over its side. I got into the train (which appeared to be packed with people) right as the doors were closing.
I walked through the car. It was almost completely empty. It was filthy, and it had a weird smell, as if a homeless person were in it.
Three little Hispanic kids ran around in the train. I thought they were chasing around me, trying to taunt me in the guise of playing an innocent game with one another.
The kids' mother lay on one of the long benches (grey benches). She was covered entirely by a (pink?) blanket. Somewhere near her was a dried patch of blood. I probably stepped in the blood. It was sticky. I headed quickly into the next car, more out of a sense of indignant disgust than fear.
I was in a very dark room. My mom was somewhere, possibly even just talking to me by cell phone. I may have stood by a desk, kicking little cubes of safety glass out of the ridges of a green car-floor-mat.
My mom told me about the last time she'd seen my brother. My brother's friends had done something bad to him. My mom told my brother something like he shouldn't be surprised that these things happen if he keeps making friends with people like that. My mom said that my brother agreed and didn't seem too violently upset.
But my brother ended up found (?) in some place like an area by the side of a road or in a field. His mouth had been taped, my mom said. I could "see"/"feel" my brother's mouth and eyes taped over with silver duct tape.
My mom said it had later been determined that my brother had conspired to have himself killed by a friend. He had gone to a friend's house and had a drug mixture called a "coke XXXXX" ("coke set"?). He passed out. He then had his mouth taped by his friend so that he couldn't breathe -- as if the drug mixture impaired my brother's ability to breathe through his nose. His friend then took him and dumped him somewhere (roadside or field) to die.
Dream #2
I was in a commercial airplane. We seemed to be landing. I could see a lot, as if the windows on the plane were enormous. Suddenly we pulled up steeply. We ascended quickly, to a level where the blue sky became dark indigo. Big chunks of snow flew all around us. I laughed with glee. It was like I could feel the snow.
We now descended in Las Vegas. Somehow we landed on the road heading to the toll booth for cars. We pulled into the toll booth as far as we could.
A van in the toll booth pulled backwards and crashed into us. Its whole back end was smashed. I worried that the driver would sue us. But I realized he couldn't: he couldn't blame us for such a stupid action of his own. He must have realized that. He drove off to our side and away from us without even going into the airport.
I was at my dad's house. My stepmother was there and was somehow also my mom. I was trying to get out of the house and go somewhere. But my mom/stepmother kept threatening me, saying that if I left, she would make me very sorry. She also tried to convince me that, for now, this was where I wanted to be.
Dream #1
I stood on a subway platform with my old friend R and his fiancee L. The platform was very busy, but it was wide, with tall ceilings. I was waiting for a Q-train. As one train pulled up, R started talking about how he and L did something really cool that I could have been a part of if I hadn't stopped being friends with him.
The train that pulled up was an N-train. It was heading in my direction. But I needed a Q-train. Through the windows of the train I saw that my train was coming, but on the other platform. I ran off from R and L, kind of happy not to have to listen to R's talking anymore.
I didn't know if I could make my train. The stairwell up, which I would need to take to cross and get down to the other platform, was full, mostly of Hispanic people, mainly Mexican. Somehow, though I managed to jump about three-quarters of the way up the stairways side and grab the handrails.
I waited until a group of people made an opening for me. Then I flipped myself onto the stairs. The handrails were a softish-feeling aluminum.
I quickly ran to the other stairway and jumped down over its side. I got into the train (which appeared to be packed with people) right as the doors were closing.
I walked through the car. It was almost completely empty. It was filthy, and it had a weird smell, as if a homeless person were in it.
Three little Hispanic kids ran around in the train. I thought they were chasing around me, trying to taunt me in the guise of playing an innocent game with one another.
The kids' mother lay on one of the long benches (grey benches). She was covered entirely by a (pink?) blanket. Somewhere near her was a dried patch of blood. I probably stepped in the blood. It was sticky. I headed quickly into the next car, more out of a sense of indignant disgust than fear.
I was in a very dark room. My mom was somewhere, possibly even just talking to me by cell phone. I may have stood by a desk, kicking little cubes of safety glass out of the ridges of a green car-floor-mat.
My mom told me about the last time she'd seen my brother. My brother's friends had done something bad to him. My mom told my brother something like he shouldn't be surprised that these things happen if he keeps making friends with people like that. My mom said that my brother agreed and didn't seem too violently upset.
But my brother ended up found (?) in some place like an area by the side of a road or in a field. His mouth had been taped, my mom said. I could "see"/"feel" my brother's mouth and eyes taped over with silver duct tape.
My mom said it had later been determined that my brother had conspired to have himself killed by a friend. He had gone to a friend's house and had a drug mixture called a "coke XXXXX" ("coke set"?). He passed out. He then had his mouth taped by his friend so that he couldn't breathe -- as if the drug mixture impaired my brother's ability to breathe through his nose. His friend then took him and dumped him somewhere (roadside or field) to die.
Dream #2
I was in a commercial airplane. We seemed to be landing. I could see a lot, as if the windows on the plane were enormous. Suddenly we pulled up steeply. We ascended quickly, to a level where the blue sky became dark indigo. Big chunks of snow flew all around us. I laughed with glee. It was like I could feel the snow.
We now descended in Las Vegas. Somehow we landed on the road heading to the toll booth for cars. We pulled into the toll booth as far as we could.
A van in the toll booth pulled backwards and crashed into us. Its whole back end was smashed. I worried that the driver would sue us. But I realized he couldn't: he couldn't blame us for such a stupid action of his own. He must have realized that. He drove off to our side and away from us without even going into the airport.
I was at my dad's house. My stepmother was there and was somehow also my mom. I was trying to get out of the house and go somewhere. But my mom/stepmother kept threatening me, saying that if I left, she would make me very sorry. She also tried to convince me that, for now, this was where I wanted to be.
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