(Entered in paper journal at 10 AM at Starbucks Marriott -- possibly back in Colorado?)
Dream 1
There were two kids running away from a group of soldiers like Civil War soldiers. The kids were modern, in contemporary clothing -- grey t-shirts and grey, denim shorts. The setting also looked contemporary, like a network of dirt trails at the edge of a modern, suburban park.
The kids reached the top of some short slope, being continually shot at all the way. They turned around and (fired back?) until all the soldiers either were dead or had retreated.
The two kids ran to some other hill. Either one or both of the kids almost fell over a steep cliff at the "peak" of the hill. There was a barberry there, jutting out club-shaped from and down along the cliff in a thin, long shape. I faintly remembered that either I or the kids had been trimming this shrub before the commotion.
The kids (or I?) were about to start trimming again when a tall, white-bearded man in a grey Civil War uniform walked up. The kids turned around. They knew this was the leader of the soldiers they had fought. The kids worried the "General" was capturing them. But the "General" actually spoke sympathetically with them.
I saw the kids' shirts become dark and dappled with varying shades of grey. I thought that perhaps the reason the "General" (I did not call him a General in the dream) was being so sympathetic was that the kids had already been mortally wounded without being aware of it.
I could see in my minds eye that the kids' backs and the backs of their heads had been torn apart as if by a huge barrage of bullets. I didn't know whether my imagined vision was true. But I was afraid of the kids turning around and me seeing whether it was true.
Showing posts with label trimming plant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trimming plant. Show all posts
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Saturday, February 2, 2013
(11/29/07) an insensible proposal
(Entered in paper journal at 5:40 AM on Q-train from Brooklyn to Manhattan.)
Dream #1
I was in a park on a blue, but slightly cloudy, day. I was at the rounded top of a hill the lawn of which was slightly worn to dust. I was trimming a strange plant. Its stalk-part was bloated out and rubbery and green. It was maybe three or four feet in width and height. The top was like a big bouquet of roses. But the flowers were about twice as big as roses, and they were all dry. There were two other plants like this on the hill.
I had been told to trim these plants. They were weeds. By trimming them away piece by piece you would sap their energy until they finally died. But, I thought, these are summer weeds. As soon as it got cold (which would happen very soon), the plants' green parts would dry up. Then we could just dig down to the roots of the plant and pull the thing out whole.
TO, a person who led a volunteer project that I now led in waking life, walked up to me. I explained (as if by thought/feeling) my idea. TO "interrupted," laughed, and said, "No, it's more sensible to do it the way we're doing it."
We were finished for the day. TO was gone again. I walked away. I was in a college campus area. It seemed like late afternoon, dimmish, pale blue-grey light. There were some people milling around on a concrete courtyard. I didn't quite feel like I belonged. I felt like people were looking at me weird, that they might think of doing something bad to me to show me I didn't belong here.
Suddenly I remembered I h'd left my book bag over where I had been working. I was panicked. I started running back to the hill. But I also thought, Surely the bag's been stolen by now.
Dream #1
I was in a park on a blue, but slightly cloudy, day. I was at the rounded top of a hill the lawn of which was slightly worn to dust. I was trimming a strange plant. Its stalk-part was bloated out and rubbery and green. It was maybe three or four feet in width and height. The top was like a big bouquet of roses. But the flowers were about twice as big as roses, and they were all dry. There were two other plants like this on the hill.
I had been told to trim these plants. They were weeds. By trimming them away piece by piece you would sap their energy until they finally died. But, I thought, these are summer weeds. As soon as it got cold (which would happen very soon), the plants' green parts would dry up. Then we could just dig down to the roots of the plant and pull the thing out whole.
TO, a person who led a volunteer project that I now led in waking life, walked up to me. I explained (as if by thought/feeling) my idea. TO "interrupted," laughed, and said, "No, it's more sensible to do it the way we're doing it."
We were finished for the day. TO was gone again. I walked away. I was in a college campus area. It seemed like late afternoon, dimmish, pale blue-grey light. There were some people milling around on a concrete courtyard. I didn't quite feel like I belonged. I felt like people were looking at me weird, that they might think of doing something bad to me to show me I didn't belong here.
Suddenly I remembered I h'd left my book bag over where I had been working. I was panicked. I started running back to the hill. But I also thought, Surely the bag's been stolen by now.
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