a dream from Barcelona:
we were in a bedroom, watching educational videos in the dim very early light. someone said something to us through the door, but we did not answer. C asked me to run away with him to nashville (although he hadn't been there for a long time). but in the train station, waiting for the Chicago-Nashville train, he disappeared. It occurred to me that he might have left me, or that he might have died.
then somehow I was at a house party. The house reminded me of my grandmother's old house, but was in Chicago. I was in the doorway of the kitchen, and a very drunk young woman was talking to me, trying to convince me to take her away with me to any city I wanted. I was alarmed. Then I saw some friends walk in the front door, told her excitedly that I had to go say hello and left her in the kitchen. Nick was there with his hair dyed purplish black, and Dave and James and others. Somehow I ended up on people's shoulders, getting carried around and passed down a line, and it ended with me being held above the ground by Alex. My friends had brought him back from the dead to see everyone, to see me. He had an adorable big stupid grin on his face.
3.04.2008
little birds
Something was happening in my parents' house. I had run upstairs to my old room to get something, it was supposed to only take a minute, but when I got up there, I saw a very small (maybe three inches long) bright blue bird flying from the filing cabinet to the nearby bookshelf. At first I'd thought it was a moth.
I started taking photographs. My camera was behaving strangely, taking four or five pictures at a time and blurring them together. When I looked at the images, there were other small, colorful flying creatures in them, an orange butterfly bird, something iridescent.
- - -
Somehow four of us had ended up in the midst of a riot in the banlieu. Tear gas everywhere, yelling, bottles thrown. Suddenly somehow, a view from above, the four of us lying in an X on a large bed, sleeping, peaceful in the aftermath of total exhaustion and terror.
- - -
Something about a strange, almost empty bar. It almost resembled someone's living room, a living room in a house not very lived in. An old man bartender giving away bottles of Blue Moon.
- - -
I couldn't see him, but I heard his voice. "Always wear your seatbelt," he said.
I started taking photographs. My camera was behaving strangely, taking four or five pictures at a time and blurring them together. When I looked at the images, there were other small, colorful flying creatures in them, an orange butterfly bird, something iridescent.
- - -
Somehow four of us had ended up in the midst of a riot in the banlieu. Tear gas everywhere, yelling, bottles thrown. Suddenly somehow, a view from above, the four of us lying in an X on a large bed, sleeping, peaceful in the aftermath of total exhaustion and terror.
- - -
Something about a strange, almost empty bar. It almost resembled someone's living room, a living room in a house not very lived in. An old man bartender giving away bottles of Blue Moon.
- - -
I couldn't see him, but I heard his voice. "Always wear your seatbelt," he said.
1.14.2008
12 & 13 jan
Ross and I were in a garden, but we were inside, but we were in the backyard of my parents' house. It was pleasant, but I had lost something among the plants. We were looking for it, but instead we found someone else's cell phone. Somehow we called Chris to ask if it was his, but Ross hung up on him mid-sentence. He intended to call from the landline of the house, but I told him it had been disconnected (this is true, I think).
It was daylight and I was in an entirely different city, one I'd never been to before. Someone who looked like Mitch but was Korean was driving a group of people in a car. We got out and went into the basement of a building, which was a small restaurant. I was trying to get takeout but things kept going wrong and I kept being indecisive and they started closing everything down, turning all the lights off and giving me nothing more than a paper plate with some wilted lettuce and a tiny bit of sour cream and old rice. It was generally demoralizing.
The dreams of 12 jan revolved mostly around some sort of sport that involved men wearing long, confining skirts and doing something with a ball in a field. People around me were discussing this heatedly in a mixture of French and English. A tall young man with a thick Scottish accent began explaining it to me, but he kept getting distracted by his opinions of the teams and I had a very difficult time understanding.
It was daylight and I was in an entirely different city, one I'd never been to before. Someone who looked like Mitch but was Korean was driving a group of people in a car. We got out and went into the basement of a building, which was a small restaurant. I was trying to get takeout but things kept going wrong and I kept being indecisive and they started closing everything down, turning all the lights off and giving me nothing more than a paper plate with some wilted lettuce and a tiny bit of sour cream and old rice. It was generally demoralizing.
The dreams of 12 jan revolved mostly around some sort of sport that involved men wearing long, confining skirts and doing something with a ball in a field. People around me were discussing this heatedly in a mixture of French and English. A tall young man with a thick Scottish accent began explaining it to me, but he kept getting distracted by his opinions of the teams and I had a very difficult time understanding.
12.30.2007
12/29 - japanese acid
I was depressed. I found myself at an outdoor concert; Japanese rock musicians playing in a field. They tried to cheer me up, they fed me apples and acid and spoke in soothing, broken English. In my notes next I have the word "east".
I was in a very dark, large, indoor place. There were cut-outs from fashion magazines, sliced and rearranged. There was a young man with all these cyborg parts, but also these strange, marshy plant parts. He was platinum blond. There were three youngish blonde women, the first two talking to him about how they wanted to all live together, how they had been convinced it was a good idea. The third girl started the same way, but broke down. She couldn't lie. Her name was Tera. In my notes next I have the word "kissing".
I was at a party, outside, there were tables and chairs. A few of my friends from New York were at a table. I sat down still tripping on Japanese acid. My English teacher from senior year showed up, the one I never wrote letters to although I promised I would. In my notes I have an indecipherable word that looks somewhat like "mallory". I asked him for his new address, he wrote it in the form of a limerick-like poem inspired by Row, Row, Row Your Boat. I ashed my cigarette and found a burn hole in the train of my wedding dress. I may have been wearing it the whole time; I'm uncertain. My mother showed up and I felt anxious and uncomfortable, followed by both her sisters.
I was walking across a campus-like place, past tall buildings. I reached an area where smiling black women were polishing the sidewalk. The machines they used to polish looked somewhat like the device you use to find buried treasure at the beach, or old bottle caps. Only these had flaps of fabric spinning on the bottom, covered in a greyish grease. I couldn't walk past; I didn't want to get in their way. I ran into someone, someone I dream-knew. He reminded me slightly of Peter Pan, just a little. He was carrying a large ring on a chain. He'd just been married. Suddenly there was a girl with him, she was small but fierce looking, with long, straight, dark hair. Her breasts, too, were small but fierce. She was wearing a lot of chains. One of them, which she held up, grinning, had her matching ring. Her name was Anne and I felt really uncomfortable.
I was in an airport. My friend Meg (who usually resembles me a fair amount, but in the dream looked almost exactly like me) was waiting for someone, and wasn't sure where to wait. The plan was for her to wear a maroon sweatshirt and sit at a table all by herself, looking emotional. We thought then no one could mistake her.
I was in a very dark, large, indoor place. There were cut-outs from fashion magazines, sliced and rearranged. There was a young man with all these cyborg parts, but also these strange, marshy plant parts. He was platinum blond. There were three youngish blonde women, the first two talking to him about how they wanted to all live together, how they had been convinced it was a good idea. The third girl started the same way, but broke down. She couldn't lie. Her name was Tera. In my notes next I have the word "kissing".
I was at a party, outside, there were tables and chairs. A few of my friends from New York were at a table. I sat down still tripping on Japanese acid. My English teacher from senior year showed up, the one I never wrote letters to although I promised I would. In my notes I have an indecipherable word that looks somewhat like "mallory". I asked him for his new address, he wrote it in the form of a limerick-like poem inspired by Row, Row, Row Your Boat. I ashed my cigarette and found a burn hole in the train of my wedding dress. I may have been wearing it the whole time; I'm uncertain. My mother showed up and I felt anxious and uncomfortable, followed by both her sisters.
I was walking across a campus-like place, past tall buildings. I reached an area where smiling black women were polishing the sidewalk. The machines they used to polish looked somewhat like the device you use to find buried treasure at the beach, or old bottle caps. Only these had flaps of fabric spinning on the bottom, covered in a greyish grease. I couldn't walk past; I didn't want to get in their way. I ran into someone, someone I dream-knew. He reminded me slightly of Peter Pan, just a little. He was carrying a large ring on a chain. He'd just been married. Suddenly there was a girl with him, she was small but fierce looking, with long, straight, dark hair. Her breasts, too, were small but fierce. She was wearing a lot of chains. One of them, which she held up, grinning, had her matching ring. Her name was Anne and I felt really uncomfortable.
I was in an airport. My friend Meg (who usually resembles me a fair amount, but in the dream looked almost exactly like me) was waiting for someone, and wasn't sure where to wait. The plan was for her to wear a maroon sweatshirt and sit at a table all by herself, looking emotional. We thought then no one could mistake her.
12.29.2007
12/28 - hurricane
Julie and I were trying to get outside, but there was a big hurricane, or at least what we thought, giggling in fear, was a hurricane. We were in her family's house in Queens, or something like it, and the wind shook the walls. It was like the big storms of childhood; the excitement of seeing a familiar place lit by candles.
The weather calmed, I walked outside alone. It was dark, wet, but not raining. I tied my shoes, saw Anastasia walk by. She and Julie were neighbors in this place, we spoke briefly and then she left and I stayed bent in the damp night air, tying my shoes.
The weather calmed, I walked outside alone. It was dark, wet, but not raining. I tied my shoes, saw Anastasia walk by. She and Julie were neighbors in this place, we spoke briefly and then she left and I stayed bent in the damp night air, tying my shoes.
12/4
dream:
Ryland and I are in some strange huge building. We're going somewhere, but we stop in separate bathrooms. As I go to leave it, several people come in, adults of both sexes. I'm a little confused. In the elevator, I hold up in front of his face a small rock he had given me. I make some kind of joke. I explain that it was given to me by the real Ryland (as opposed to the dream one), and he laughs and says "that's me." We get to the roof.
On the roof a bunch of people are around, having some kind of concert/party. I lose track of Ryland. My brother and some of the cousins are dancing around, and my mother keeps giggling and yelling "kids in the pit!". I'm not part of it, I'm somehow worried I'll hurt them with my combat boots. My brother then sits down on the ground, my mother is talking to him about something.
My grandfather (maternal, deceased) is menacing my brother with a bread knife while my mother tries to convince him to stop. He moves on to me, tries to fight me in a sort of informal duel (lacking any real feud). I tell him it's not fair, I don't have a weapon, then I grab a similar knife from among many on a nearby table to my right. I keep having a hard time holding the handle, I suspect that both ends are sharp. We fight, and I want to draw blood but merely to prove that I can, not out of any true malice. He pauses, and he says without speaking, right into my brain: Most of us have given up on being fucked or forgiven.
Ryland and I are in some strange huge building. We're going somewhere, but we stop in separate bathrooms. As I go to leave it, several people come in, adults of both sexes. I'm a little confused. In the elevator, I hold up in front of his face a small rock he had given me. I make some kind of joke. I explain that it was given to me by the real Ryland (as opposed to the dream one), and he laughs and says "that's me." We get to the roof.
On the roof a bunch of people are around, having some kind of concert/party. I lose track of Ryland. My brother and some of the cousins are dancing around, and my mother keeps giggling and yelling "kids in the pit!". I'm not part of it, I'm somehow worried I'll hurt them with my combat boots. My brother then sits down on the ground, my mother is talking to him about something.
My grandfather (maternal, deceased) is menacing my brother with a bread knife while my mother tries to convince him to stop. He moves on to me, tries to fight me in a sort of informal duel (lacking any real feud). I tell him it's not fair, I don't have a weapon, then I grab a similar knife from among many on a nearby table to my right. I keep having a hard time holding the handle, I suspect that both ends are sharp. We fight, and I want to draw blood but merely to prove that I can, not out of any true malice. He pauses, and he says without speaking, right into my brain: Most of us have given up on being fucked or forgiven.
12/3
dream:
We were in the future, we were in space maybe, we were at that Star Trek time, there was no cancer, but we all made jokes as we suggested a smoke. Will went outside, but I got sidetracked. Wayne was playing a piano--its presence seemed strange yet almost unnoticeable in the meeting-room we were in--and I was whistling along. I played my kazoo, and some young woman sang.
dream:
Aileen and I were in a huge supermarket. We were on some kind of scavenger hunt, we were stressed but having a good time. We kept rearranging the things on the shelves, looking for something in particular.
dream:
In a huge auditorium, Heidi was giving instructions on the stage. I was way up in the stadium seating. Claire was behind a wall in front of the stage, doing something with a phone that emitted a bright blue light that made it over the wall. I moved closer to the stage, and saw Jason sitting near it with Tommy and someone else, piles of equipment at their feet. I thanked them (a band called The Buttons) for playing this event, which I had had some hand in organizing. A blonde girl with glasses, who had been standing, sat on Jason's knee. While Jason tried to convince her to take a bubble bath with us, I sat on his other knee, making some stupid joke.
We were in the future, we were in space maybe, we were at that Star Trek time, there was no cancer, but we all made jokes as we suggested a smoke. Will went outside, but I got sidetracked. Wayne was playing a piano--its presence seemed strange yet almost unnoticeable in the meeting-room we were in--and I was whistling along. I played my kazoo, and some young woman sang.
dream:
Aileen and I were in a huge supermarket. We were on some kind of scavenger hunt, we were stressed but having a good time. We kept rearranging the things on the shelves, looking for something in particular.
dream:
In a huge auditorium, Heidi was giving instructions on the stage. I was way up in the stadium seating. Claire was behind a wall in front of the stage, doing something with a phone that emitted a bright blue light that made it over the wall. I moved closer to the stage, and saw Jason sitting near it with Tommy and someone else, piles of equipment at their feet. I thanked them (a band called The Buttons) for playing this event, which I had had some hand in organizing. A blonde girl with glasses, who had been standing, sat on Jason's knee. While Jason tried to convince her to take a bubble bath with us, I sat on his other knee, making some stupid joke.
10.18.2007
sunny day real estate
In somebody's living room with a group of people. Dave leaves something with me, asking that I bring it with me when I meet him at a party later. He seems slightly anxious, although I'm fairly sure it's not over anything really serious. He leaves through what look like garage stairs. The rest of us sit on a big white couch in front of a tv, talking and half-watching something. Mike remembers something he really wanted me to watch-- I think it involved puppets, and unfounded jealousy-- and we cross the hall to a computer. He can't get whatever it is to play, so instead we listen to a new (non-existent) Sunny Day Real Estate album and decide it's a lot more hardcore than we expected. Then somehow I'm in a very different room, a living room again but full of dark colors, olive green, maybe in a different city. I'm sitting on the floor. Karan and Phil (and Jared?) are there, talking about that album. Karan is confused about if Mike is coming back, but Phil tells him that he has to, because he's left a library book with me that he needs. I'm reading a library book, but I'm not sure if that's the one they meant. It's a collection of psychoanalytic essays on fairy tales, but many of the pages are hard to read, as if the book was made from bad photocopies. I start reading a piece that I know is on the Snow Queen, although the first page doesn't seem to have anything to do with it. It starts with a black and white illustration of a monster being trapped in the bottom of a lake, who gets colder and colder. There was a parallel drawn between the Snow (or Ice) Queen archetype and what the author called the "Dead Girl" archetype-- such as Snow White in her glass coffin, or Sleeping Beauty while under the spell. Then somehow it's back to the room with the white couch, I'm leaning back and I'm comfortably warm.
dark house / warm clowns
from several nights ago:
I'm in a dark house, going back in between two rooms, looking for something. all the lights are out, and it's night, but it's stormy and I can still see. I hear a voice, young, male, that I instantly dislike, that is deriding me. We're in conversation but it's silent, he's outside and broadcasting himself into my head, I can't block it out. I respond by speaking out loud. After a particularly terrifying clap of thunder, I hear: "Remember your aunt--" and walk back into the room on the right to see my grandmother, the one who in reality is thankfully still around, come from the window as a ghost/zombie. There is some horrible warning that implies that all the women of my family are cursed. I woke up suddenly, afraid to move.
later that same night, I fell back to sleep and dreamt again:
I'm in a brightly lit building, possibly a theater-- most likely a place in the same building as a theater, but not the performance space itself. Molly and Leslie of 500 Clown are around, they seem busy but not displeased or particularly stressed. Ryland is there, and we're training together while we make soft conversation. His voice is soothing, and whenever the others walk past us they smile warmly.
I'm in a dark house, going back in between two rooms, looking for something. all the lights are out, and it's night, but it's stormy and I can still see. I hear a voice, young, male, that I instantly dislike, that is deriding me. We're in conversation but it's silent, he's outside and broadcasting himself into my head, I can't block it out. I respond by speaking out loud. After a particularly terrifying clap of thunder, I hear: "Remember your aunt--" and walk back into the room on the right to see my grandmother, the one who in reality is thankfully still around, come from the window as a ghost/zombie. There is some horrible warning that implies that all the women of my family are cursed. I woke up suddenly, afraid to move.
later that same night, I fell back to sleep and dreamt again:
I'm in a brightly lit building, possibly a theater-- most likely a place in the same building as a theater, but not the performance space itself. Molly and Leslie of 500 Clown are around, they seem busy but not displeased or particularly stressed. Ryland is there, and we're training together while we make soft conversation. His voice is soothing, and whenever the others walk past us they smile warmly.
10.03.2007
but we were sincere
I walked out onto a dark street, unsure of why. Someone slightly younger than me, some version of William, mentioned something-- in the form of a question that wasn't really a question-- about me leading parkour groups on the south side of Chicago. I left him behind and started running. People put obstacles in my way as a challenge, but I ran on.
This brought me to a bar, one surprisingly brightly lit, with old-fashioned light fixtures and red velvet. Thom was there, but drunk and distant, he was much older than everyone else there and had other things on his mind. He slunk off quickly. A boy with curly blond hair, about 18, very drunk, asked me "how much do you have in you?" He meant how many drinks, and I knew this and answered accordingly, but my train of thought followed other interpretations. I realized everyone else was drunker than I was, or that I had found some strange sort of clarity in all my booze that they hadn't gotten to yet. But I was not unhappy, not really. I felt very aware of the passing of time and things and people, that sort of twisting, observational sadness. Shit fit for the movies, but I enjoyed it. I found myself dancing with the only boy I really knew there, his shaggy brown hair in my face, hands twisting around. We lacked coordination but we were sincere.
Dawn in a messy bedroom. I stood while he knelt and broke things over my bare stomach, letting pieces fall over me, biting my star tattoo. Something about the early morning light made me never want to leave.
This brought me to a bar, one surprisingly brightly lit, with old-fashioned light fixtures and red velvet. Thom was there, but drunk and distant, he was much older than everyone else there and had other things on his mind. He slunk off quickly. A boy with curly blond hair, about 18, very drunk, asked me "how much do you have in you?" He meant how many drinks, and I knew this and answered accordingly, but my train of thought followed other interpretations. I realized everyone else was drunker than I was, or that I had found some strange sort of clarity in all my booze that they hadn't gotten to yet. But I was not unhappy, not really. I felt very aware of the passing of time and things and people, that sort of twisting, observational sadness. Shit fit for the movies, but I enjoyed it. I found myself dancing with the only boy I really knew there, his shaggy brown hair in my face, hands twisting around. We lacked coordination but we were sincere.
Dawn in a messy bedroom. I stood while he knelt and broke things over my bare stomach, letting pieces fall over me, biting my star tattoo. Something about the early morning light made me never want to leave.
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