Dream
May 27, 2013
I walk through a parking lot, some of the cars are familiar -- I am wearing a skirt, or maybe a dress, with purple on it, and a cardigan -- Fancy, with somewhere to go -- I see your car and need to put my purse on the back seat for later -- I start to open the side sliding door and you appear, almost materialize from the front of the hood, a disturbingly strange expression on your face -- contorted, odd, not you -- I can tell you find it odd I am putting my purse in your car -- Makes sense to me, especially after the other day --
"You can't use your car?" you ask, uncharacteristically defensive -- you are so kind other times --
"It's not here, I need this for later," I respond -- While this is true, my other car is nearby and I'm sure you notice -- the embarrassment seeps in, feel my face get hot -- You have the strangest grin, a huge toothy smile -- Are you hiding something? -- Gripping the back of your pants and facing me, even when you begin to walk away --
"What's that smile for?" I inquire -- You shake your head, still with maniacal grin, trying to cover a spot on your pants -- "Did you sit in something?"
"I don't know what you mean," --
Confused and disoriented, I leave my purse -- Did i miss something? -- An oddness settles in my belly -- the sky looms dark and painted, closing in on me --
I wander through the lot, cars and cars, wondering, waiting -- the sense that leaving my purse is a catastrophic idea -- He doesn't want you in any part of his life -- It's not okay to do those kinds of things anymore --
You are at the other end of the lot on a patch of grass taking photos with the rest of the party -- Blues and greens, and bow ties -- They line you up with the others, positioning just so, all the while you attempt to disguise what I have now deduced is the puddle of water you sat in that soaked your pants -- I watch for a few moments, wondering if you see me, knowing acutely you don't ever think twice --
I turn around to find your car and it has moved -- start to run and feel frantic, searching, yearning -- I know where it is, I just have to get there, just have to finish this and be done with it -- I see it across the lot away from other cars, underneath concrete beams and a door -- you are sitting in the passenger seat talking on the phone -- I approach the window and gesture "I'm sorry to bug you" -- Your face reads irritation, my heart sinks into my feet -- I realize now, for the first time, it will never be the same -- I open the side door, grab my purse as fast as possible, knowing I crossed some imperceptible boundary -- I feel awful, helpless --
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
May 27, 2013
May 16, 2013
Painted Skies and Purple Blankets
Dream
May 15, 2013
I am distracted, in a field, twirling and laughing -- you are there too, nearby -- by my side, laughing and talking and following me wherever I go -- The grass is tall, the sky bright and close -- You are wearing a blue shirt, the deep ocean blue one that I love so much, that makes the brown of your eyes dark and rich -- Your face is happy and warm --
I move about the field fluidly, under the huge sky -- You are always by my side -- I wonder if you will always be there with me, if there is anything I can do that will make you run away, disappear -- I run a few yards in opposite directions -- I stop and turn back, you are there, laughing -- Your smile the light of the sun itself! -- the colors of the green grass and purple sky are saturated and thick -- a painted world rich with life, love --
We fall --
Lying on the ground you tell me a whimsical story and I laugh and laugh -- Time slows, stops, the most painstakingly wonderful eternity it takes for you to kiss my cheek -- a most perfect kiss! -- more beautiful than I'd imagined a thousand times in my mind, in my heart --
We swim in purple and white blankets -- Sheepish and giddy, I wonder if you will hug me -- I wonder if you are real -- I am the little spoon, even though you are shorter than me, hand resting gently on my hip -- the most natural thing in the world -- How could I not have imagined? Why was I afraid?
I am whole -- complete -- at peace with the unrest, One with the struggle -- Your soul lights mine and mine yours, and we laugh --
May 15, 2013
I am distracted, in a field, twirling and laughing -- you are there too, nearby -- by my side, laughing and talking and following me wherever I go -- The grass is tall, the sky bright and close -- You are wearing a blue shirt, the deep ocean blue one that I love so much, that makes the brown of your eyes dark and rich -- Your face is happy and warm --
I move about the field fluidly, under the huge sky -- You are always by my side -- I wonder if you will always be there with me, if there is anything I can do that will make you run away, disappear -- I run a few yards in opposite directions -- I stop and turn back, you are there, laughing -- Your smile the light of the sun itself! -- the colors of the green grass and purple sky are saturated and thick -- a painted world rich with life, love --
We fall --
Lying on the ground you tell me a whimsical story and I laugh and laugh -- Time slows, stops, the most painstakingly wonderful eternity it takes for you to kiss my cheek -- a most perfect kiss! -- more beautiful than I'd imagined a thousand times in my mind, in my heart --
We swim in purple and white blankets -- Sheepish and giddy, I wonder if you will hug me -- I wonder if you are real -- I am the little spoon, even though you are shorter than me, hand resting gently on my hip -- the most natural thing in the world -- How could I not have imagined? Why was I afraid?
I am whole -- complete -- at peace with the unrest, One with the struggle -- Your soul lights mine and mine yours, and we laugh --
May 2, 2013
Of Monsters and Empty Rooms
Dream
May 1, 2013
I stand in the living room, no furniture -- Bare, carpeted floors and some sheer white curtains hanging in front of French doors opening to a backyard -- Whose backyard? -- They are out there, it is out there, and I pace -- back and forth, wall to wall -- anxious, tense, keeping it together but still worried, unsure -- Can it see me? -- the carpet a dull beige, worn, dirty --
From an opening to my left emerges a hideous creature, a gigantic, grotesquely oversized Daddy Long Leg spider! -- Huge, massive spindly legs, a mechanically quick body -- it walks across the floor from the opening in the wall to the French doors on my right, right in front of me -- I cannot move -- it carries a strange posture, appearing visibly to be anxious in the way I am anxious, anticipating what I anticipate, outside those doors, wondering if it can be seen --
I observe the animal with an internal terror and disgust, but I do not flee -- oddly compelled, intensely curious -- I observe the creature move back and forth, wall to wall, darting swiftly over the dingy carpet, thin yet heavy legs thumping softly -- The more closely I observe I realize its legs are spider legs, but with a body partially spider and partially monkey -- a monkey spider? -- and amongst the legs emerge two small hands and a tiny face, coated in hair -- fur? -- I know it to have a mind, awareness, consciousness -- it feels pain, worry, fear -- horrifying in an otherworldly sense, yet beautiful and vulnerable --
May 1, 2013
I stand in the living room, no furniture -- Bare, carpeted floors and some sheer white curtains hanging in front of French doors opening to a backyard -- Whose backyard? -- They are out there, it is out there, and I pace -- back and forth, wall to wall -- anxious, tense, keeping it together but still worried, unsure -- Can it see me? -- the carpet a dull beige, worn, dirty --
From an opening to my left emerges a hideous creature, a gigantic, grotesquely oversized Daddy Long Leg spider! -- Huge, massive spindly legs, a mechanically quick body -- it walks across the floor from the opening in the wall to the French doors on my right, right in front of me -- I cannot move -- it carries a strange posture, appearing visibly to be anxious in the way I am anxious, anticipating what I anticipate, outside those doors, wondering if it can be seen --
I observe the animal with an internal terror and disgust, but I do not flee -- oddly compelled, intensely curious -- I observe the creature move back and forth, wall to wall, darting swiftly over the dingy carpet, thin yet heavy legs thumping softly -- The more closely I observe I realize its legs are spider legs, but with a body partially spider and partially monkey -- a monkey spider? -- and amongst the legs emerge two small hands and a tiny face, coated in hair -- fur? -- I know it to have a mind, awareness, consciousness -- it feels pain, worry, fear -- horrifying in an otherworldly sense, yet beautiful and vulnerable --
April 27, 2013
Shifting Crowds, Ocean Tides
It's been a while since I've posted a dream. Well, it's been a while since I've posted anything at all, but in particular a dream. Here goes...
Dream
April 23, 2013
I'm going to look at a new apartment in a high-rise, in the Lloyd District -- Something about this whole thing is forced, like moving is not my choice, but I don't fight it, I accept it as truth and reality -- I'm not angry or resentful, but matter of fact and clear -- This is what must happen -- A lady shows me the apartment, very small and already furnished -- I am struck by the oddness of the couch -- The main room is cramped, furniture ill-arrange, the colors drab and outdated -- I don't hate it, but I don't love it -- It doesn't occur to me that in moving somewhere else I will be LEAVING my current apartment -- All is well and dandy --
We walk around the grounds through the courtyard and around the block -- I am unfazed, indifferent -- I run errands, lost in thought about the new place, about the furniture and how I will change it to make it less awkward -- It starts to slowly dawn on me that I will be moving out of my current apartment, specifically that I will no longer have the art studio -- the new place is so cramped there is definitely not room for art making, let alone to house all of my belongings, now that I think of it -- I realize my exit from the freeway to get home is from I-84 and not I-5 -- something about this makes my heart sink into my feet, realizing I am, indeed, in a very different part of town -- I'll have to change my routes to get everywhere -- Slow, quiet panic --
It turns to nighttime, overwhelmed with sadness and confusion -- Why am I leaving my apartment? Does anybody else know? How could I have agreed to such a strange and awful venture? -- I visit the new building after the sun goes down -- Hallways filled with scarcely clothed teenage girls who appear to be heading to or from a swimming pool -- This feels like a hotel, or a dorm -- I am out of place and intensely uncomfortable -- I think This is so public, how will I ever get privacy? -- Despite the grassy knoll and parks on the ground floor far below, I am invaded, intruded upon -- The only way I'll ever find respite is in my apartment itself, which I don't even like and makes me uncomfortable --
Claw my way through crowds of teenagers, finally make it to my door and walk inside -- Even with all the lights on, it is still dim, tinged in gold, like Grandma's house -- I can't bear to be here -- I fight my way back downstairs to the ground level and go outside to explore the shops nearby -- I awoke early for this, the sun wasn't up yet -- I am awake before everybody so maybe I'll find some peace out here -- My feet step onto the sidewalk and I'm immediately shoved and pushed by a massive crowd of people on the sidewalk, shifting and moving like an ocean tide, moving not as individuals but as a whole group, as One --
San Francisco --
A huge food cart, almost like a cafeteria kitchen but entirely outside and uncovered, serving up steaming plates of food to an ornery gathering of drunk people -- It is already 4am and I thought I'd beat everybody here? -- But my morning is only beginning, and this crowd of people is topping off their night with a gut full of starchy food -- Nowhere can I step without being bumped into, shoved, pushed aside -- Oddly dark, for a city street -- The tops of people's heads aglow from the gold light of street lamps, heads moving and swaying and shifting like a giant amoebic being, hungry and restless -- I don't make it half a block before becoming frustrated and angry -- I turn back and cut my way through the hoard towards the hotel -- I will never have privacy! THIS is my front yard?! I cannot leave this building without being overrun by tides of people! -- I think of my art studio -- I think of the sunshine pouring in through the windows on a warm bright day -- I think of how perfect it is, perfect for me -- I feel tears starting to form in my guts and I try to hold them back -- It simply is not right --
Dream
April 23, 2013
I'm going to look at a new apartment in a high-rise, in the Lloyd District -- Something about this whole thing is forced, like moving is not my choice, but I don't fight it, I accept it as truth and reality -- I'm not angry or resentful, but matter of fact and clear -- This is what must happen -- A lady shows me the apartment, very small and already furnished -- I am struck by the oddness of the couch -- The main room is cramped, furniture ill-arrange, the colors drab and outdated -- I don't hate it, but I don't love it -- It doesn't occur to me that in moving somewhere else I will be LEAVING my current apartment -- All is well and dandy --
We walk around the grounds through the courtyard and around the block -- I am unfazed, indifferent -- I run errands, lost in thought about the new place, about the furniture and how I will change it to make it less awkward -- It starts to slowly dawn on me that I will be moving out of my current apartment, specifically that I will no longer have the art studio -- the new place is so cramped there is definitely not room for art making, let alone to house all of my belongings, now that I think of it -- I realize my exit from the freeway to get home is from I-84 and not I-5 -- something about this makes my heart sink into my feet, realizing I am, indeed, in a very different part of town -- I'll have to change my routes to get everywhere -- Slow, quiet panic --
It turns to nighttime, overwhelmed with sadness and confusion -- Why am I leaving my apartment? Does anybody else know? How could I have agreed to such a strange and awful venture? -- I visit the new building after the sun goes down -- Hallways filled with scarcely clothed teenage girls who appear to be heading to or from a swimming pool -- This feels like a hotel, or a dorm -- I am out of place and intensely uncomfortable -- I think This is so public, how will I ever get privacy? -- Despite the grassy knoll and parks on the ground floor far below, I am invaded, intruded upon -- The only way I'll ever find respite is in my apartment itself, which I don't even like and makes me uncomfortable --
Claw my way through crowds of teenagers, finally make it to my door and walk inside -- Even with all the lights on, it is still dim, tinged in gold, like Grandma's house -- I can't bear to be here -- I fight my way back downstairs to the ground level and go outside to explore the shops nearby -- I awoke early for this, the sun wasn't up yet -- I am awake before everybody so maybe I'll find some peace out here -- My feet step onto the sidewalk and I'm immediately shoved and pushed by a massive crowd of people on the sidewalk, shifting and moving like an ocean tide, moving not as individuals but as a whole group, as One --
San Francisco --
A huge food cart, almost like a cafeteria kitchen but entirely outside and uncovered, serving up steaming plates of food to an ornery gathering of drunk people -- It is already 4am and I thought I'd beat everybody here? -- But my morning is only beginning, and this crowd of people is topping off their night with a gut full of starchy food -- Nowhere can I step without being bumped into, shoved, pushed aside -- Oddly dark, for a city street -- The tops of people's heads aglow from the gold light of street lamps, heads moving and swaying and shifting like a giant amoebic being, hungry and restless -- I don't make it half a block before becoming frustrated and angry -- I turn back and cut my way through the hoard towards the hotel -- I will never have privacy! THIS is my front yard?! I cannot leave this building without being overrun by tides of people! -- I think of my art studio -- I think of the sunshine pouring in through the windows on a warm bright day -- I think of how perfect it is, perfect for me -- I feel tears starting to form in my guts and I try to hold them back -- It simply is not right --
September 18, 2012
Forgot One
Dreams
September 9th
The first day of school, or maybe a reunion -- I met Drew, very glad to see him! -- My old friend Nicole is here, too! She is so much taller than I remember, but still the same warm face and smile -- She smells so pretty -- I realize after all this time -- thirteen years? -- I have missed her deeply -- Why did I lose touch? She was always such a good friend to me --
September 9th
The first day of school, or maybe a reunion -- I met Drew, very glad to see him! -- My old friend Nicole is here, too! She is so much taller than I remember, but still the same warm face and smile -- She smells so pretty -- I realize after all this time -- thirteen years? -- I have missed her deeply -- Why did I lose touch? She was always such a good friend to me --
September 13, 2012
Dreams
September 9th
Cale sits in the chair, a terrible look on his face, contorted and upset -- they just returned from the beach and had a terrible fight -- so livid is his expression, unable to speak from overwhelming anger --
I've never seen him like this before --
[...]
We already moved into our new place, an old house with lots of people -- We planned on just us in a small apartment, but when it turned out to be the opposite we didn't really notice -- The biggest things I notice about the living situation are not the slew of unfamiliar people wandering in and out of the rooms, or the strange setup of the living room, but the hideous tile floor in the main living area -- lime green and lemonade pink! -- stretching from the floors up onto the walls -- tacky decorative tiles as focal points, appearing to have been installed by someone who knows absolutely nothing about laying tile -- An appraiser wanders around and it is only then understood that this building is Everyday Music, not a house, even though it looks like Music Millenium, with lime green tile -- NOW it makes sense why there are so many people around. --
September 9th
Cale sits in the chair, a terrible look on his face, contorted and upset -- they just returned from the beach and had a terrible fight -- so livid is his expression, unable to speak from overwhelming anger --
I've never seen him like this before --
[...]
We already moved into our new place, an old house with lots of people -- We planned on just us in a small apartment, but when it turned out to be the opposite we didn't really notice -- The biggest things I notice about the living situation are not the slew of unfamiliar people wandering in and out of the rooms, or the strange setup of the living room, but the hideous tile floor in the main living area -- lime green and lemonade pink! -- stretching from the floors up onto the walls -- tacky decorative tiles as focal points, appearing to have been installed by someone who knows absolutely nothing about laying tile -- An appraiser wanders around and it is only then understood that this building is Everyday Music, not a house, even though it looks like Music Millenium, with lime green tile -- NOW it makes sense why there are so many people around. --
Fire Pattern
Dreams
September 5th
Large houses, yards filled with plants, a waning night sky -- we lie on lawn chairs in the backyard looking up at the stars, the impending darkness -- Talking, chatting, laughing -- Then, the neighbor's house engulfed in flames, fire pouring out of the windows -- Oh no! I say, That house is on fire! -- He reassures me, It's one of those houses on the edge of the park, It'll be okay --
But it seems much closer than that -- Are you sure it's not closer? -- I get up from my seat to investigate, flames jumping from that house to ours, setting it instantly ablaze -- No! No no no!
Spreading so rapidly, out of control, flames immediately in the kitchen, in the bedroom, spewing violently out the windows and creeping over the roof and around the porch --
NO NO NO!
Pulling my hair in anger, terror, fear -- How can it end this way? How can Brightwood possibly end this way?
I run inside without thinking -- I need my phone, call the fire department -- I stand on the lawn and dial the numbers -- the woman's tone is calming, soothing -- she doesn't ask for my address -- That's weird, I think, They must have GPS --
We stand helplessly watching quiet fire swallow every memory I'd ever had, standing on the lawn, waiting, hoping it's not as bad as it looks -- Crying, yelling, feeling my insides shrink into oblivion, swallows me whole --
September 5th
Large houses, yards filled with plants, a waning night sky -- we lie on lawn chairs in the backyard looking up at the stars, the impending darkness -- Talking, chatting, laughing -- Then, the neighbor's house engulfed in flames, fire pouring out of the windows -- Oh no! I say, That house is on fire! -- He reassures me, It's one of those houses on the edge of the park, It'll be okay --
But it seems much closer than that -- Are you sure it's not closer? -- I get up from my seat to investigate, flames jumping from that house to ours, setting it instantly ablaze -- No! No no no!
Spreading so rapidly, out of control, flames immediately in the kitchen, in the bedroom, spewing violently out the windows and creeping over the roof and around the porch --
NO NO NO!
Pulling my hair in anger, terror, fear -- How can it end this way? How can Brightwood possibly end this way?
I run inside without thinking -- I need my phone, call the fire department -- I stand on the lawn and dial the numbers -- the woman's tone is calming, soothing -- she doesn't ask for my address -- That's weird, I think, They must have GPS --
We stand helplessly watching quiet fire swallow every memory I'd ever had, standing on the lawn, waiting, hoping it's not as bad as it looks -- Crying, yelling, feeling my insides shrink into oblivion, swallows me whole --
September 1, 2012
Continued
Dreams
August 29th
A beach at sunset -- I drove there hoping to catch the crowd and people-watch for a while, but the sun had just sunk behind the mountains -- the sky a dusty grey tinged with the lingering orange of waning sunlight --
The people have all gone, getting into their cars -- I parked mine and got out, walking slowly through the sand, the damp ground underneath the waves -- Matthew is here -- Matthew! I haven't seen you in so long! -- He knew I would be here -- He won't tell me how, but he knew --
He brought chips and guacamole to munch on, some of the best guacamole I've had, in a bowl that looks like one of mine -- "You made it," he says -- "A couple days ago, from the party." -- I have no recollection --
We hang out in the shallow waters as the sky turns dark, talking and laughing and sharing the snack --
August 29th
A beach at sunset -- I drove there hoping to catch the crowd and people-watch for a while, but the sun had just sunk behind the mountains -- the sky a dusty grey tinged with the lingering orange of waning sunlight --
The people have all gone, getting into their cars -- I parked mine and got out, walking slowly through the sand, the damp ground underneath the waves -- Matthew is here -- Matthew! I haven't seen you in so long! -- He knew I would be here -- He won't tell me how, but he knew --
He brought chips and guacamole to munch on, some of the best guacamole I've had, in a bowl that looks like one of mine -- "You made it," he says -- "A couple days ago, from the party." -- I have no recollection --
We hang out in the shallow waters as the sky turns dark, talking and laughing and sharing the snack --
August 22, 2012
More Unsolved Mysteries of the Mind
Dreams
August 20th
I'm standing here talking to her and she's trying to talk me into cutting my hair off, really really short --
I tell her NO, I'm trying to grow it, but as she describes the cut I am more and more lured in to the idea of chopping it all off --
Stop being so impressionable --
I don't know who she is, but I'm supposed to know -- Some blonde lady in a pastel-colored cardigan --
I think of the maintenance on a short cut and I shiver, then resist the temptation --
[...]
A food cart, or maybe it's in a building, just very small, a literal hole in the wall on the side of a building -- french fries and fried fish -- They're disorganized and scrambling for tickets -- Did they lose Cale's order? -- The girl with the blue hair looks very stressed out -- This place is dingy -- Are we in New York City?
[...]
We can't find the captain of the ship -- Something is about to happen, something really important, and she is nowhere to be found --
My partner and I leave the ship, run down the ramps and onto the dock scrambling, searching, combing the dewy early morning streets -- She's huddled, crouched, wrapped in a large navy blue coat, or maybe it's a blanket, and her long grey hair that was once regal is now scraggly and unkempt -- Her eyes are wide and anxious, unknowing, unfamiliar and in another place -- sadness and confusion overwhelms me -- How could it have come to this? How did everything decline so quickly?
We try to help her back through the streets but she resists, resists, fights -- A chase ensues and my confusion must be set aside for the long pursuit --
August 20th
I'm standing here talking to her and she's trying to talk me into cutting my hair off, really really short --
I tell her NO, I'm trying to grow it, but as she describes the cut I am more and more lured in to the idea of chopping it all off --
Stop being so impressionable --
I don't know who she is, but I'm supposed to know -- Some blonde lady in a pastel-colored cardigan --
I think of the maintenance on a short cut and I shiver, then resist the temptation --
[...]
A food cart, or maybe it's in a building, just very small, a literal hole in the wall on the side of a building -- french fries and fried fish -- They're disorganized and scrambling for tickets -- Did they lose Cale's order? -- The girl with the blue hair looks very stressed out -- This place is dingy -- Are we in New York City?
[...]
We can't find the captain of the ship -- Something is about to happen, something really important, and she is nowhere to be found --
My partner and I leave the ship, run down the ramps and onto the dock scrambling, searching, combing the dewy early morning streets -- She's huddled, crouched, wrapped in a large navy blue coat, or maybe it's a blanket, and her long grey hair that was once regal is now scraggly and unkempt -- Her eyes are wide and anxious, unknowing, unfamiliar and in another place -- sadness and confusion overwhelms me -- How could it have come to this? How did everything decline so quickly?
We try to help her back through the streets but she resists, resists, fights -- A chase ensues and my confusion must be set aside for the long pursuit --
Monsters & Bleach
Dreams
August 12th
A four-poster bed on a beach at low tide, fully made, linens and comforters perfectly folded and tucked --
A towering, terrifying sunflower monster, reaching forty, fifty stories! -- I've encountered big monsters before, but the sheer height of this giant flower beast makes my stomach leap --
A small lovely girl with large blue eyes and shiny brown hair -- She begs for her bed, cries and pleads -- The waves move slowly, a thin sweeping layer of water reaching seamlessly over the damp sand, like glass -- The massive creature hoists the bed into the air with giant leaf arms and thrusts it to sea, only for some reason it does not reach the orange waves, but remains in low tide, perched perfectly on the sheet of glass water --
The girl cries again, but we are not doomed -- somehow, we will make it through --
[...]
Trying to grow out my hair but I get so fed up with it -- the bangs are all wrong and it's poofing at the bottom -- trying to keep it from getting damaged and I'm excited that refraining from coloring it means it's all natural and healthy and one color --
So I bleach it, all of it, root to tip, white white blonde -- I love it, for a minute, then desperately regret it -- I spent so much time growing out the damaged parts, now I have to do it all over again! What is wrong with me?! Why did I do that?!
Dumbfounded, angry, so stupid --
August 12th
A four-poster bed on a beach at low tide, fully made, linens and comforters perfectly folded and tucked --
A towering, terrifying sunflower monster, reaching forty, fifty stories! -- I've encountered big monsters before, but the sheer height of this giant flower beast makes my stomach leap --
A small lovely girl with large blue eyes and shiny brown hair -- She begs for her bed, cries and pleads -- The waves move slowly, a thin sweeping layer of water reaching seamlessly over the damp sand, like glass -- The massive creature hoists the bed into the air with giant leaf arms and thrusts it to sea, only for some reason it does not reach the orange waves, but remains in low tide, perched perfectly on the sheet of glass water --
The girl cries again, but we are not doomed -- somehow, we will make it through --
[...]
Trying to grow out my hair but I get so fed up with it -- the bangs are all wrong and it's poofing at the bottom -- trying to keep it from getting damaged and I'm excited that refraining from coloring it means it's all natural and healthy and one color --
So I bleach it, all of it, root to tip, white white blonde -- I love it, for a minute, then desperately regret it -- I spent so much time growing out the damaged parts, now I have to do it all over again! What is wrong with me?! Why did I do that?!
Dumbfounded, angry, so stupid --
A Quiet Panic: More Dreams
Dreams
August 8th
There is an electrical fire -- It started on the desk in the classroom, at the main plug for the computer screen -- My life's drawings are stacked in a large pile leaning against the desk -- Someone calmly says "fire" and I immediately hear the sirens in the distance -- Oh good, I thought, It won't be long -- But it was --
The fire grew, enveloping all the cords and swallowing the computer, inching silently towards my drawings -- Is nobody worried? -- It takes several minutes for anyone to catch on, to realize the danger -- Slow panic eats away at the room, from our feet, from the ground -- The sirens go silent and the fire fighters do not show -- How can they not show? -- I go back into the room to save my drawings -- I cannot assume the fire will be put out -- fear and anxiety -- I move most of my drawings in a few large stacks, but I'm forced to sacrifice others -- Widespread panic has fully set in, the fire spreads -- people running around yelling, screaming -- the fire fighters never show -- How can they not show?
August 8th
There is an electrical fire -- It started on the desk in the classroom, at the main plug for the computer screen -- My life's drawings are stacked in a large pile leaning against the desk -- Someone calmly says "fire" and I immediately hear the sirens in the distance -- Oh good, I thought, It won't be long -- But it was --
The fire grew, enveloping all the cords and swallowing the computer, inching silently towards my drawings -- Is nobody worried? -- It takes several minutes for anyone to catch on, to realize the danger -- Slow panic eats away at the room, from our feet, from the ground -- The sirens go silent and the fire fighters do not show -- How can they not show? -- I go back into the room to save my drawings -- I cannot assume the fire will be put out -- fear and anxiety -- I move most of my drawings in a few large stacks, but I'm forced to sacrifice others -- Widespread panic has fully set in, the fire spreads -- people running around yelling, screaming -- the fire fighters never show -- How can they not show?
August 10, 2012
Midnight Parasailing
Dreams
August 5th
Parasailing in the middle of a field at night, a group of us that want to fly, moonlight on the highway --
We reach our destination but it starts raining and there's some lightning too -- We're forced to cancel the excursion even though the director still wants to try it, lightning and all -- I have to talk her out of it, for our safety --
[...]
We're in a field searching for something -- tall grasses, bright moonlight, small ponds reflecting -- the men are throwing frisbees and we're keeping score -- Cale thinks there is something wrong with one of the men, like maybe he's disabled --
A group of shadowy figures begins swarming in the distance, moving systematically towards us, no faces -- dark, with large coats -- Cale asks if I want to see a special place -- "Do we have to hop a fence?" I ask -- "Will that be a problem?" he responds --
We roll ourselves over a fence, my tunic nearly snagging on the rough boards --
Then, running through the woods, dodging mud puddles and swamps -- He is strangely quick on his feet, daggers in cases dangling from his belt -- the world lit by moon, my eyes adjust to the dim glow and things start to look bright -- I can see more now than ever --
He leads me into an ancient abandoned building, hexagonal in shape, with small benches around the edges at the bottom of a steep staircase -- I deduce it used to be a church, a refuge -- high ceilings reaching thirty, forty, fifty feet, moss and plants overgrown, but intense magic -- overwhelming magic -- the history of the space, the walls, the memories, is palpable -- a strong surge of warmth and happiness and I can see the thousands of people, walking in and out and in, praying and laughing and finding sanctuary --
Shadowy figures approaching, scouring land, causing pain -- we never see them do it, but we can hear the cries and feel the fear -- but here, we are safe -- in the church, with the plants in the dark, we are safe -- we hide out for many minutes, the glow of his iPhone periodically cutting the darkness with blue light -- a figure appears in the doorway above our heads but we are not visible in the shadowy depths of the recessed room -- he continues on, unaware of our presence --
Things Are Starting to Get Weird, Folks
Dreams
August 4th
It's a cleanup day for our apartment complex, part of the Homeowner's Association stuff, and there are people in and out of all the units, examining and checking and snooping -- Erin is there and looking very pregnant, discussing the cobwebs on our lawn and how they will need to be removed --
Our apartment has secret rooms, walls that move up into the ceiling to reveal a den and another bedroom connected to our bathroom -- so much more space! How did we not know about these rooms before? Furnished and carpeted with lots of doors and windows and shelving -- It's a miracle! -- Erin leads us around through all the rooms -- Spacey and disconnected, her eyebrows are thick and dark -- her husband cooks something in his kitchen -- Suddenly, all the apartments in the complex are hooked together -- we can walk seamlessly from one to another without going outside -- hallways and windows and people wandering around everywhere -- a big community space that is much bigger than I recognized but it still makes me a little bit mad --
I'm standing on the outside of the building and it looks uncannily like the Brightwood House -- No, it is the Brightwood House -- on the corner with the redwood trees and pines in the corner bed, and the porch with white railing that wraps around and around -- I think, Our complex is in Portland, Oregon but it is Brightwood -- I don't think it odd, the resemblance, but it warms me with calm feelings and the slight sense of nostalgia without the sadness --
We're back wandering through the rooms, the big secret rooms that I didn't know about, there is one with a bathroom -- all this time when he would leave the bedroom in the middle of the night to go pee, he was using this other toilet, the Secret Toilet, and assumed I knew all about it -- Again, questions -- so many questions! -- How could I not have known about the walls that go up into the ceiling, revealing a den that could easily be utilized for hanging out and TV watching?
All this time we could've been using this as our hanging out room, instead of the living room that becomes so unbearably hot in the evenings -- I'm irritated, left in the dark -- everyone else knows except for me and that makes me so mad -- Struck with angry thoughts laced with small amounts of panic --
I now have more rooms to buy furniture for, more rooms to decorate and shui and figure out and organize things for -- this was not in my budget -- resentment, frustration --
[...]
The small backyard has railroad tracks running through it, running right through it, mere feet from our back door -- trains run feet, FEET!, from our glass sliding door -- While shocked and amazed and again not understanding how I could not have known about this previously, I think how it makes a lot of sense, because the train sounds are so loud at night --
Not only does the train run right behind our house, but it's the end of the line, the tracks just STOP right here, dead end at a tree with a patch of dirt and a small unpainted fence -- There are small dogs looking far away, below me and the wooden platform I stand on -- a white terrier type and Rottweiler -- William the Rottweiler -- running exuberantly in the yard and then, on the tracks -- tracks that now move further and further below, now a considerable drop going further away --
The dogs are specks now and the train is coming full speed but they can't hear me shouting -- Cale runs down to wrangle them -- sounds are muffled and the train's horn blares -- I see the conductor and he looks familiar but I can't place him -- not slowing, signaling them to get off the tracks, Cale chasing the dogs -- the train runs over them but they are not smashed, they are in tact, frozen from fear and shock, waiting for something, a signal or sign -- Tim emerges from the cabin angry and red-faced -- Cale and the dogs move aside and it is only then we realize they have been injured, not fatally, but with wounds that will need swift attention -- I cannot believe he went onto the tracks to get the dogs! -- Oblivious to any real danger -- tracks that still move further away from our glass door -- I don't know how they are so close --
August 4th
It's a cleanup day for our apartment complex, part of the Homeowner's Association stuff, and there are people in and out of all the units, examining and checking and snooping -- Erin is there and looking very pregnant, discussing the cobwebs on our lawn and how they will need to be removed --
Our apartment has secret rooms, walls that move up into the ceiling to reveal a den and another bedroom connected to our bathroom -- so much more space! How did we not know about these rooms before? Furnished and carpeted with lots of doors and windows and shelving -- It's a miracle! -- Erin leads us around through all the rooms -- Spacey and disconnected, her eyebrows are thick and dark -- her husband cooks something in his kitchen -- Suddenly, all the apartments in the complex are hooked together -- we can walk seamlessly from one to another without going outside -- hallways and windows and people wandering around everywhere -- a big community space that is much bigger than I recognized but it still makes me a little bit mad --
I'm standing on the outside of the building and it looks uncannily like the Brightwood House -- No, it is the Brightwood House -- on the corner with the redwood trees and pines in the corner bed, and the porch with white railing that wraps around and around -- I think, Our complex is in Portland, Oregon but it is Brightwood -- I don't think it odd, the resemblance, but it warms me with calm feelings and the slight sense of nostalgia without the sadness --
We're back wandering through the rooms, the big secret rooms that I didn't know about, there is one with a bathroom -- all this time when he would leave the bedroom in the middle of the night to go pee, he was using this other toilet, the Secret Toilet, and assumed I knew all about it -- Again, questions -- so many questions! -- How could I not have known about the walls that go up into the ceiling, revealing a den that could easily be utilized for hanging out and TV watching?
All this time we could've been using this as our hanging out room, instead of the living room that becomes so unbearably hot in the evenings -- I'm irritated, left in the dark -- everyone else knows except for me and that makes me so mad -- Struck with angry thoughts laced with small amounts of panic --
I now have more rooms to buy furniture for, more rooms to decorate and shui and figure out and organize things for -- this was not in my budget -- resentment, frustration --
[...]
The small backyard has railroad tracks running through it, running right through it, mere feet from our back door -- trains run feet, FEET!, from our glass sliding door -- While shocked and amazed and again not understanding how I could not have known about this previously, I think how it makes a lot of sense, because the train sounds are so loud at night --
Not only does the train run right behind our house, but it's the end of the line, the tracks just STOP right here, dead end at a tree with a patch of dirt and a small unpainted fence -- There are small dogs looking far away, below me and the wooden platform I stand on -- a white terrier type and Rottweiler -- William the Rottweiler -- running exuberantly in the yard and then, on the tracks -- tracks that now move further and further below, now a considerable drop going further away --
The dogs are specks now and the train is coming full speed but they can't hear me shouting -- Cale runs down to wrangle them -- sounds are muffled and the train's horn blares -- I see the conductor and he looks familiar but I can't place him -- not slowing, signaling them to get off the tracks, Cale chasing the dogs -- the train runs over them but they are not smashed, they are in tact, frozen from fear and shock, waiting for something, a signal or sign -- Tim emerges from the cabin angry and red-faced -- Cale and the dogs move aside and it is only then we realize they have been injured, not fatally, but with wounds that will need swift attention -- I cannot believe he went onto the tracks to get the dogs! -- Oblivious to any real danger -- tracks that still move further away from our glass door -- I don't know how they are so close --
August 4, 2012
The Art of Dreaming: Part I
I started writing in one of those composition books. I usually have three or four journals or sketchbooks going all at once, but never a composition book, not since my college Creative Writing class. This is where all the gritty stuff goes, the stuff that is not for show so it (naturally) must go on crappy lined paper, the stuff that I likely won't talk about with anyone because of its intensely private nature.
That, and I am an intensely private person. You may think Nooo but in actuality, I really don't disclose much about my innermost processes. Not unless I know you well. I attribute my ability to be warm while at the same time deflecting others' prods for information solely to my small arsenal of Libran qualities. A useful skill, it's turning out to be.
I guess you could say the composition book is where the "secrets" go, but I wouldn't call them secrets. I don't know what you'd call them.
Non-Conversational Items
Private Holy Tidbits
Things You Wouldn't Tell Your Grandma
But one thing that goes in this book is a dream log I've been keeping. For a psychology class once, the Boy kept a dream journal for an entire quarter, or semester or whatever it was. He read parts of it to me the other night and oh MAN was it awesome! So rich and full and beautiful... and inspiring.
A big part of keeping a dream journal is not the writing part but the remembering part. Many of my dreams flit away upon waking. Sometimes they come back to me in short flashes later on in the day, but are then gone as quickly as they arrived. As I have been learning, remembering dreams is not something you must try hard to do or something you must throw a lot of energy into. Rather, it is a matter of relaxing the mind, engaging in some mild meditation before bedtime and throughout your day, opening a place in your psyche where you can allow these dream "memories" to exist and manifest, and hopefully float into your full consciousness.
An excerpt --
August 1st
A red-headed woman, a little bit disheveled like she'd been sweating from a workout, or like she'd just awoken from a fitful sleep -- her cheeks are flushed bright pink -- I thought how she went a little overboard with the blush, then realize maybe that is her natural flushing color -- No, I determined -- definitely too much blush, but I still cannot stop staring at her while she speaks exuberantly about this thing and this other thing --
July 30th
I work more hours than anybody -- tallied on a sheet, written in big loopy numbers, in pencil, hours totaled at the bottom and I have more than anyone -- How can that be?
July 29th
<piece of an exerpt>
...I keep checking the back of my hair with a hand-held mirror and it's ugly and keeps falling out -- the pins won't stay -- the mirror goes back to the spot where it is stored but I keep picking it back up to check my hair, but I am never satisfied --
I read these to Will one night. We laughed, because many times dreams that feel intensely real later sound silly.
"I guess this is what I'm about -- grooming myself, working too much overtime, and being mesmerized by red heads," I laughed.
It's not that inaccurate, I'm afraid!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)