1/30/10
I'm a kid in my old neighborhood in VA. We're walking along the side of 123, a two lane semi-highway. The grass is long at the side of the road. Our parents told us to loop to the right around Kirby but I argue it's actually safer to go into our neighborhood. I turn and the gang of kids follows me. As we go down the steep hill, I see that everyone is dressed for Halloween, even though it's springtime and the middle of the day. I remember that Halloween was postponed last year after some disaster.
I get to my yard. My stepfather has changed the garden. He's extended the slate path all the way to the wild margin of the yard. He took out the circle of pachysandra and replaced it with huge flat sections of stone that rotate, like a mill stone. He's made a bench for my mother. I realize it's because my mother is very sick and she needs a smoother garden. I'm worried. We always assumed my stepfather would die first. Who will take care of him now?
I'm visiting friends of friends, a married couple, A and K. They have a huge, glamorous house. We're getting ready to go out. I go to the rest room and K follows me in, gabbing. I have trouble turning on the light. I can only get one little inadequate light to go on. K hands me a book with a interesting drawing of a topless devil woman on the cover. I would like to read it but she's still around. I finally kind of yell at her to get out.
Outside, I meet up with A and K and their gardener and my brother and his family. We somehow all pile into my mother's golden car. We're going to the movies. I section up a plate of brownies using a cardboard rectangle.
I meet with D, a nice girl I've been trying to befriend. We're in a golden city, canals and bridges and shops. It's late and we have to figure out how we're getting home but we also have to carry potted plants.
In a sort of fashion show. I'm wearing something elegant and I have to let people take my picture. Then I take pictures of another elegantly dressed girl. I think we're all taking turns with the camera.
Good, I remembered this one better. I wrote it down in detail right when I woke up. I remember reading that light is one of the hardest things to control in dreams and not being able to turn on a switch should be a cue to spark a lucid dream. Well, it didn't work last night and instead just irritated me.
I've been having a lot of dreams where I'm being thwarted in bathrooms too.
This was mostly a pleasant dream. I've been dreaming of beauty a lot lately. It's conspicuously absent from my life right now as the weather is so miserable and I spend a lot of time putting on three sweaters.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Sit In My Lap I Bite Your Face; I Prefer The Sketches
1/29/10
I'm at a camp or boarding house for girls. I sit in the spacious bathroom and a lecherous old man comes and sits in my lap. At first I'm angry but unembarassed. Then I bite him and topple him off.
I'm in a gallery, looking at series of sketches and paintings. Some are very detailed drawings and some are bold but sloppy paintings. I like the sketches best. I identify them as being by Nabakov.
Wow, my note-taking has become worse and worse. I remember the old guy and the drawings but not much action surrounding them. The drawing by Nabakov comes from visiting the Jane Austen exhibit at the Morgan Library, where there are two pages of notes by Nabakov for a lecture he used to give about Mansfield Park. He drew the barouche that the Bertrams took and even drew in where everyone was sitting. It was hasty and sloppy but kind of great.
I'm at a camp or boarding house for girls. I sit in the spacious bathroom and a lecherous old man comes and sits in my lap. At first I'm angry but unembarassed. Then I bite him and topple him off.
I'm in a gallery, looking at series of sketches and paintings. Some are very detailed drawings and some are bold but sloppy paintings. I like the sketches best. I identify them as being by Nabakov.
Wow, my note-taking has become worse and worse. I remember the old guy and the drawings but not much action surrounding them. The drawing by Nabakov comes from visiting the Jane Austen exhibit at the Morgan Library, where there are two pages of notes by Nabakov for a lecture he used to give about Mansfield Park. He drew the barouche that the Bertrams took and even drew in where everyone was sitting. It was hasty and sloppy but kind of great.
Pink Lingerie; Floating Old Ladies; Spoon Bouquet
1/28/10
I'm sifting through piles of luscious pale pink lingerie. It's more cotton than silk. There's a table just heaped with pieces. I can't always tell what kind of garments they are, like light sweaters or tights or what, but I'm very enthusiastic.
I'm in the ocean on a pretty morning or sunset. It's somewhere where wooded islands are dotting the water, like the Chesapeake Bay or the Folly Channel. There's a crowd of people floating in the water and from a boat some military gang is haranguing them. Then I'm in the water and I see everyone else is an elderly woman, with long silvery hair wet from the water. The military guy is saying everyone should have a crew cut. I point out that we could kick his ass even with long hair.
I'm running on a stretch of asphalt. It's like the loop in central park, torn up and scattered with flattened pieces of horse dung. I'm having trouble going as fast as I want and soon I'm running with my hands as well, scrambling up a steed slope and pulling out chunks of asphalt with my hands.
I'm washes dishes. There's a bunch of white plastic measuring spoons, many more than would be on a regular bunch. It looks like a bouquet.
I've gotten in the habit of just writing down little reminders in a notebook and planning to post later. The reminders are not enough. For this entry, I also put down the following: "All the men died--mourning--back acne" but now I have no idea what I was dreaming. I have to put down the whole description and mood otherwise stuff just disappears. If I describe it carefully I can remember it, but otherwise no. Kind of frustrating. Why does it require so much detail when something that happened in waking life would only need a few words to recall?
I seem to be having a lot of shopping dreams lately. They are usually both pleasurable and anxious. Might it have something to do with how I think of myself as looking? They are often very specific and sensual, with the pieces of cloth being the most vivid part of the dream.
I'm sifting through piles of luscious pale pink lingerie. It's more cotton than silk. There's a table just heaped with pieces. I can't always tell what kind of garments they are, like light sweaters or tights or what, but I'm very enthusiastic.
I'm in the ocean on a pretty morning or sunset. It's somewhere where wooded islands are dotting the water, like the Chesapeake Bay or the Folly Channel. There's a crowd of people floating in the water and from a boat some military gang is haranguing them. Then I'm in the water and I see everyone else is an elderly woman, with long silvery hair wet from the water. The military guy is saying everyone should have a crew cut. I point out that we could kick his ass even with long hair.
I'm running on a stretch of asphalt. It's like the loop in central park, torn up and scattered with flattened pieces of horse dung. I'm having trouble going as fast as I want and soon I'm running with my hands as well, scrambling up a steed slope and pulling out chunks of asphalt with my hands.
I'm washes dishes. There's a bunch of white plastic measuring spoons, many more than would be on a regular bunch. It looks like a bouquet.
I've gotten in the habit of just writing down little reminders in a notebook and planning to post later. The reminders are not enough. For this entry, I also put down the following: "All the men died--mourning--back acne" but now I have no idea what I was dreaming. I have to put down the whole description and mood otherwise stuff just disappears. If I describe it carefully I can remember it, but otherwise no. Kind of frustrating. Why does it require so much detail when something that happened in waking life would only need a few words to recall?
I seem to be having a lot of shopping dreams lately. They are usually both pleasurable and anxious. Might it have something to do with how I think of myself as looking? They are often very specific and sensual, with the pieces of cloth being the most vivid part of the dream.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Disaster!; Alien 4; Flowers; Map
1/27/10
Preparing for a disaster. I'm over at M's place, writing, and we're also casually talking about some impending war. He's also having girlfriend troubles. We climb into a bed together to sleep before disaster hits and start having sex.
Seeing something like the fourth Alien movie where there are lots of mutant failed versions of Ellen Ripley's clone. They don't seem that distressed, though.
In a kitchen with friends of M's. His girlfriend is there too. I tell her the bouquet on the table is beautiful. It's green and white flowers.
Looking down at a map/ alat a map that's also a landscape. It's a terraced green mountain.
Preparing for a disaster. I'm over at M's place, writing, and we're also casually talking about some impending war. He's also having girlfriend troubles. We climb into a bed together to sleep before disaster hits and start having sex.
Seeing something like the fourth Alien movie where there are lots of mutant failed versions of Ellen Ripley's clone. They don't seem that distressed, though.
In a kitchen with friends of M's. His girlfriend is there too. I tell her the bouquet on the table is beautiful. It's green and white flowers.
Looking down at a map/ alat a map that's also a landscape. It's a terraced green mountain.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Young Bartending; Drinking in the Bathroom; Shoe Puppets; Monster Slayer on the Train
1/25/20
At a small, chic bar, I'm surprised to see my friend D is bartending. He gets me a big drink and tells me that he's lucked into this job but hates it. He goes around, being a horrible bartender. He ignores people and gives them like his sock instead of a drink. One of his bosses says they admire his working through school. Without thinking I blurt that he's not in school, he's too old. But then I look at him again and he's become a pudgy, round-faced youth. I pull him aside and apologize and explain I might have blown his cover. I didn't realize he was here incognito.
Then I'm a waitress, on a ship or something. Or I've been mistaken for a waitress. I find myself trapped in a corner with some grouchy old ladies. One of them asks if I can take an order. I don't have a book of restaurant tickets, but I have my memo pad from the office, so I write down what she wants and scamper off.
I'm in a spacious, nicely decorated bathroom of a farmhouse in Rhode Isalnd. I'm with a guy I know and we're having plum wine or sake out of little ceramic cups. I'm either revving up for a date or trying to avoid one, I can't remember.
The bathroom opens out into a hallway which turns into a narrow, dark beach. There's a collection of old shoes. I take two thong sandals and draw little faces on them and put them on my hands. This is part of an old tradition of shoe puppets.
On a train, a young woman who is a monster slayer is putting together pieces of paper like a puzzle to show a copy of the tapestry that shows her killing a monster.
I feel like I had lots of disconnected dreams last night, which I usually don't. Maybe I wasn't sleeping well and kept waking up? The biggest impression I have from all the dreams was a sort of summery, rollicking feel to them, especially drinking in the bathroom.
At a small, chic bar, I'm surprised to see my friend D is bartending. He gets me a big drink and tells me that he's lucked into this job but hates it. He goes around, being a horrible bartender. He ignores people and gives them like his sock instead of a drink. One of his bosses says they admire his working through school. Without thinking I blurt that he's not in school, he's too old. But then I look at him again and he's become a pudgy, round-faced youth. I pull him aside and apologize and explain I might have blown his cover. I didn't realize he was here incognito.
Then I'm a waitress, on a ship or something. Or I've been mistaken for a waitress. I find myself trapped in a corner with some grouchy old ladies. One of them asks if I can take an order. I don't have a book of restaurant tickets, but I have my memo pad from the office, so I write down what she wants and scamper off.
I'm in a spacious, nicely decorated bathroom of a farmhouse in Rhode Isalnd. I'm with a guy I know and we're having plum wine or sake out of little ceramic cups. I'm either revving up for a date or trying to avoid one, I can't remember.
The bathroom opens out into a hallway which turns into a narrow, dark beach. There's a collection of old shoes. I take two thong sandals and draw little faces on them and put them on my hands. This is part of an old tradition of shoe puppets.
On a train, a young woman who is a monster slayer is putting together pieces of paper like a puzzle to show a copy of the tapestry that shows her killing a monster.
I feel like I had lots of disconnected dreams last night, which I usually don't. Maybe I wasn't sleeping well and kept waking up? The biggest impression I have from all the dreams was a sort of summery, rollicking feel to them, especially drinking in the bathroom.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Dinner Party One Up Manship; Snowy Park
1/24/10
I'm around a big table with a bunch of over-dressed Jersey girl types. We're eating a fancy dinner. I'm carefully flaking some fish in a rich salty sauce. There's some sort of one-up-manship going on. I pull out my trump card, which is speaking Chinese. I speak some pretty clumsy Chinese and look up and realize all the Jersey girls are all Chinese girls. I'm busted. I finish the meal and excuse myself.
I walk out into Central Park with two older guys. I think they're academics, or experts, or comic book guys or something. They're delighted with my company and we walk through the park. It's very beautiful. Enormous, slow snowflakes are coming down and our foot prints cut a black track up and down the steep hills.
Well I did the thing where I woke up and thought for sure I'd remember everything and didn't need to write it down, so of course I forgot a bunch of details. I'm pretty sure the dinner party started out with Jersey Girls and they didn't change until after I'd been speaking Chinese for a while.
The park part was very lovely. The light was strange. I couldn't tell if it was night, or a gray day, or what. But the shades of gray and black were very rich and there was a sort of snowy day muffled quality to everything. Maybe no sound.
I'm around a big table with a bunch of over-dressed Jersey girl types. We're eating a fancy dinner. I'm carefully flaking some fish in a rich salty sauce. There's some sort of one-up-manship going on. I pull out my trump card, which is speaking Chinese. I speak some pretty clumsy Chinese and look up and realize all the Jersey girls are all Chinese girls. I'm busted. I finish the meal and excuse myself.
I walk out into Central Park with two older guys. I think they're academics, or experts, or comic book guys or something. They're delighted with my company and we walk through the park. It's very beautiful. Enormous, slow snowflakes are coming down and our foot prints cut a black track up and down the steep hills.
Well I did the thing where I woke up and thought for sure I'd remember everything and didn't need to write it down, so of course I forgot a bunch of details. I'm pretty sure the dinner party started out with Jersey Girls and they didn't change until after I'd been speaking Chinese for a while.
The park part was very lovely. The light was strange. I couldn't tell if it was night, or a gray day, or what. But the shades of gray and black were very rich and there was a sort of snowy day muffled quality to everything. Maybe no sound.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Call; Pants; Hitler Mustache
1/23/10
Several dreams of calling up T and declaring love. Very centered around my actual shitty phone. The reception is weird. Switching back and forth from computer screen to phone. Vague communication but I'm determined to get through. He's surprised but takes it well. In the dream I'm not anxious but just sort of ready and feeling strong.
Towards the end of the night a clearer dream. I'm in college. I go from the hilly campus with a new girl friend, then we go second hand clothes shopping. There are gauzy curtains everywhere. I don't want anything for myself but when I get back to the dorm room I call the Conan O'Brien show and am put on the air. I offer to send Conan a pair of mint green checked pants I had seen there. He's playing it as a bit and I'm hilarious. I don't actually have the pants. I hang up and feel triumphant.
Some other people are around, baking. I sneak downstairs in the early morning to find my mother complaining that I want her to expand a dress I'd bought so my friend can fit into it. I refute this hotly. My stepfather has shaved his full Kenny Rogers beard into sort of a Hitler mustache and looks startled to see me speak so angrily.
Back upstairs I play trivia with some conservative old men and regale them with my knowledge about Gutsom Borglum.
About to call. Actually terrified.
Several dreams of calling up T and declaring love. Very centered around my actual shitty phone. The reception is weird. Switching back and forth from computer screen to phone. Vague communication but I'm determined to get through. He's surprised but takes it well. In the dream I'm not anxious but just sort of ready and feeling strong.
Towards the end of the night a clearer dream. I'm in college. I go from the hilly campus with a new girl friend, then we go second hand clothes shopping. There are gauzy curtains everywhere. I don't want anything for myself but when I get back to the dorm room I call the Conan O'Brien show and am put on the air. I offer to send Conan a pair of mint green checked pants I had seen there. He's playing it as a bit and I'm hilarious. I don't actually have the pants. I hang up and feel triumphant.
Some other people are around, baking. I sneak downstairs in the early morning to find my mother complaining that I want her to expand a dress I'd bought so my friend can fit into it. I refute this hotly. My stepfather has shaved his full Kenny Rogers beard into sort of a Hitler mustache and looks startled to see me speak so angrily.
Back upstairs I play trivia with some conservative old men and regale them with my knowledge about Gutsom Borglum.
About to call. Actually terrified.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Dragonfly Wings; Bulging Dictionary: Aquarium; Phones; Snow; Monster Coach
1/21/10
At my grandmother's. Walking in the forest. It's very dense and the grass is incredibly high or I'm very small. There are insects and I keep finding dragonflies that have had the wings torn off--but not really torn off, because they're more like mechanical things or Legos where the wings snap off, but they're still suffering. I have to crush one to put it out of its misery and I'm upset. I climb up a slanted roof and see I'm about twenty feet above the ground. Everyone is cautioning me but I just jump down. I have stuff to do.
I leaf through a dictionary. I'm trying to find a certain kind of rat. I'm pretty sure it starts with the letter F. The illustrations or descriptions start to rise up off the page. There's a really scary one of potatoes or apples covered in hair or mold and spiderwebs. I get a little squeamish but keep looking and laugh with relief when I see it's just leftover Halloween decorations. I also realize I don't have to worry about finding the rats because I can just scoop up as many as I need from the living illustration. I fill my pockets with soft rats.
I pass by the big cage where my grandmother's rabbit is kept. I take it out to pet it and say goodbye and it faints in my hands. Feeling sort of guilty but hilarious, I put it back and make a big show of covering it with its soft blanket.
I go to the next room. Everything else has been dusty and dark and hairy, but here in my cousin's house it's all glossy and expensive-looking. There's a huge aquarium. They have adorable new pets, three big snails each with three antennae that get bigger as I watch. I realize that they're not real animals but like toys? Animation? Robots? Clones? I'm a little disappointed but I still have affection for them as if they were animals. The aquarium keeps getting bigger until it's over my head, or I'm in it. There's something else in the water besides the snails, like a big slow eel or catfish, white and long, that passes over our heads.
Later, Nap.
I'm at home in VA. My brother, his wife, my mom and two of my bro's friends are around. One of them is a stranger. Our friend B is in the kitchen. In the living room, we're waiting for a message, or the phones are screwed up or something. I keep reaching for the stranger's outmoded phone and picking it up. I'm embarassed but he doesn't seem to mind. I finally go to the kitchen to see what's the matter and find a bunch of swinging beepers in the tent-like play room.
I take the bus home. I offer half my sandwich to a woman on the bus. I've been carrrying her broken glasses and I sheepishly offer them back when I have to get off.
C and I walk down the snowy street. At first we're laughing but then we're throwing snowballs and it gets competetive. The snow falls apart in my hands, it's too dry, and I just throw handfulls of snow dust at her back. Finally I'm trapped in some deep snow and C dumps a shovelful of dirty snow on my head. I threaten her that it's the end of the friendship. I get up and walk away. She and a friend follow me. I start explaining in outrage why that's not an okay thing to do but soon it becomes clear that she and her friend are dealing with something much more serious--a love rivalry? We get to the tent like play room and go in. I turn a plastic table upright and there are little lights on its corners that light up. I also have like one of those pagers at the Shake Shack that light up when your food is read. C and her friend are recounting the story of Matt, the sports coach that they are both in love with. I'm shocked, because in the dream C is back in high school. She's speaking raptly and even laughing. It turns out the coach is also some kind of monster. I'm mostly worried about him being too old.
What an awesome series of dreams. I have been getting some serious sleep lately because of my cold but since I had to wake up with an alarm this morning I think I remember these better.
Animals, especially slightly upsetting animals, or ones that I feel tenderly for, have been a big feature in the dreams lately. Is there something I'm trying to protect? They're all kind of vulnerable but also sinister. Some sort of male genital metaphor?
I've been talking to a couple of people about Reading dreams lately. I think it might just be that we're all reading like crazy. The dictionary is the latest example. There was no text, but it was certainly in book shape and I could turn the pages. Seeing the horrible potatoes covered in hairy stuff was upsetting only until I remembered I could turn the page.
Interesting that I had such an antagonistic dream about C. She came and visited me in New York for the first time last weekend. There wasn't any snow, or confrontation of any kind. We get along well and I'm very fond of her and have vague plots to convince her to move here. I was hyper aware that we're different kinds of girls. Do I not want to have a super feminine friend enter my very guyish/tomboyish social circle?
At my grandmother's. Walking in the forest. It's very dense and the grass is incredibly high or I'm very small. There are insects and I keep finding dragonflies that have had the wings torn off--but not really torn off, because they're more like mechanical things or Legos where the wings snap off, but they're still suffering. I have to crush one to put it out of its misery and I'm upset. I climb up a slanted roof and see I'm about twenty feet above the ground. Everyone is cautioning me but I just jump down. I have stuff to do.
I leaf through a dictionary. I'm trying to find a certain kind of rat. I'm pretty sure it starts with the letter F. The illustrations or descriptions start to rise up off the page. There's a really scary one of potatoes or apples covered in hair or mold and spiderwebs. I get a little squeamish but keep looking and laugh with relief when I see it's just leftover Halloween decorations. I also realize I don't have to worry about finding the rats because I can just scoop up as many as I need from the living illustration. I fill my pockets with soft rats.
I pass by the big cage where my grandmother's rabbit is kept. I take it out to pet it and say goodbye and it faints in my hands. Feeling sort of guilty but hilarious, I put it back and make a big show of covering it with its soft blanket.
I go to the next room. Everything else has been dusty and dark and hairy, but here in my cousin's house it's all glossy and expensive-looking. There's a huge aquarium. They have adorable new pets, three big snails each with three antennae that get bigger as I watch. I realize that they're not real animals but like toys? Animation? Robots? Clones? I'm a little disappointed but I still have affection for them as if they were animals. The aquarium keeps getting bigger until it's over my head, or I'm in it. There's something else in the water besides the snails, like a big slow eel or catfish, white and long, that passes over our heads.
Later, Nap.
I'm at home in VA. My brother, his wife, my mom and two of my bro's friends are around. One of them is a stranger. Our friend B is in the kitchen. In the living room, we're waiting for a message, or the phones are screwed up or something. I keep reaching for the stranger's outmoded phone and picking it up. I'm embarassed but he doesn't seem to mind. I finally go to the kitchen to see what's the matter and find a bunch of swinging beepers in the tent-like play room.
I take the bus home. I offer half my sandwich to a woman on the bus. I've been carrrying her broken glasses and I sheepishly offer them back when I have to get off.
C and I walk down the snowy street. At first we're laughing but then we're throwing snowballs and it gets competetive. The snow falls apart in my hands, it's too dry, and I just throw handfulls of snow dust at her back. Finally I'm trapped in some deep snow and C dumps a shovelful of dirty snow on my head. I threaten her that it's the end of the friendship. I get up and walk away. She and a friend follow me. I start explaining in outrage why that's not an okay thing to do but soon it becomes clear that she and her friend are dealing with something much more serious--a love rivalry? We get to the tent like play room and go in. I turn a plastic table upright and there are little lights on its corners that light up. I also have like one of those pagers at the Shake Shack that light up when your food is read. C and her friend are recounting the story of Matt, the sports coach that they are both in love with. I'm shocked, because in the dream C is back in high school. She's speaking raptly and even laughing. It turns out the coach is also some kind of monster. I'm mostly worried about him being too old.
What an awesome series of dreams. I have been getting some serious sleep lately because of my cold but since I had to wake up with an alarm this morning I think I remember these better.
Animals, especially slightly upsetting animals, or ones that I feel tenderly for, have been a big feature in the dreams lately. Is there something I'm trying to protect? They're all kind of vulnerable but also sinister. Some sort of male genital metaphor?
I've been talking to a couple of people about Reading dreams lately. I think it might just be that we're all reading like crazy. The dictionary is the latest example. There was no text, but it was certainly in book shape and I could turn the pages. Seeing the horrible potatoes covered in hairy stuff was upsetting only until I remembered I could turn the page.
Interesting that I had such an antagonistic dream about C. She came and visited me in New York for the first time last weekend. There wasn't any snow, or confrontation of any kind. We get along well and I'm very fond of her and have vague plots to convince her to move here. I was hyper aware that we're different kinds of girls. Do I not want to have a super feminine friend enter my very guyish/tomboyish social circle?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Crotchless Garment; Monster Eggs; Art Party; Floating
1/20/10
I showed up to work even though I was sick. I crawled into a giant bed instead and slept while my boss went through papers. When she left I finally got some work done and took my lunch hour running up a grassy slope.
I saw a clip of a television show of Christina Aguilara on SNL wearing a crotchless outfit. I was a little shocked and then scolded myself for being prudish. I saw a preview for a movie about some monster that was like a big embryo. Then I was in a scene of it where there appeared to be fried eggs all over the lawn and people were debating whether we should eat them or not. On the one hand, we would turn into some kind of monster, but on the other we were really hungry.
There's a neighborhood party. It's in some weird combo of Brooklyn and Providence. I go with my Dad and meet up with my cousin and his family and my friend Eric who turns into my Dad. We go from a hip home where someone is making their own jewelery--with mosaics on the floor and tables--to an even hipper bar where people are assembling an installation they make every year. Some people are putting up a big wooden frame, and others are making little puppets out of gloves and mittens. I go to get chicken wings and my old roommate chides me for going off my vegetarian diet. I suspect there might be some cute men down the stairs, so I go down a spiralling, switchbacking staircase. It's hard to negotiate. I jump the last six feet and float silently to the ground. I'm very proud of my leaping abilities.
This was a disjointed but very emotionally vivid dream. I've been sick the last few days and probably not getting enough stimulation outside of potboiler novels (one ghost story, one crime/medical mystery) and watching movies (See No Evil, Hear No Evil and His Girl Friday).
The most disturbing part of the dream was the crotchless outfit. The best part was the floating down the stairs. I really should go to more parties with my Dad, he's very funny and gregarious.
I showed up to work even though I was sick. I crawled into a giant bed instead and slept while my boss went through papers. When she left I finally got some work done and took my lunch hour running up a grassy slope.
I saw a clip of a television show of Christina Aguilara on SNL wearing a crotchless outfit. I was a little shocked and then scolded myself for being prudish. I saw a preview for a movie about some monster that was like a big embryo. Then I was in a scene of it where there appeared to be fried eggs all over the lawn and people were debating whether we should eat them or not. On the one hand, we would turn into some kind of monster, but on the other we were really hungry.
There's a neighborhood party. It's in some weird combo of Brooklyn and Providence. I go with my Dad and meet up with my cousin and his family and my friend Eric who turns into my Dad. We go from a hip home where someone is making their own jewelery--with mosaics on the floor and tables--to an even hipper bar where people are assembling an installation they make every year. Some people are putting up a big wooden frame, and others are making little puppets out of gloves and mittens. I go to get chicken wings and my old roommate chides me for going off my vegetarian diet. I suspect there might be some cute men down the stairs, so I go down a spiralling, switchbacking staircase. It's hard to negotiate. I jump the last six feet and float silently to the ground. I'm very proud of my leaping abilities.
This was a disjointed but very emotionally vivid dream. I've been sick the last few days and probably not getting enough stimulation outside of potboiler novels (one ghost story, one crime/medical mystery) and watching movies (See No Evil, Hear No Evil and His Girl Friday).
The most disturbing part of the dream was the crotchless outfit. The best part was the floating down the stairs. I really should go to more parties with my Dad, he's very funny and gregarious.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Halloween; Air Guitar; Bird Rescue; Kiss
1/19/10
A Halloween party at Ben S's suburban home. I dress as a mouse with large red plastic buck teeth. At a table we gossip about a friend who is pregnant and planning to marry her long time loutish boyfriend. She goes around hanging wedding invitations like hotel Please do not Disturb signs on the doorknobs.
I'm at SLC to do a college interview. I look at the paper I received and see that I'm supposed to go see my cousin J who is a professor here. I go to the science building and there's a small crowd to get on the escalator. Some young boys are singing oldies and I ask them if they were listening to the radio. We talk about how we like CCR and play air guitar on the escalator. I get off at the third floor when i see my cousin's name on the sign.
He's not expecting me. He's speaking to his girlfriend on the stairs and complaining about being hungover. I call down and tell him he's lucky his first interview of the day is me. He comes up cheerfully. His office is also his bedroom. I'm there with his girlfriend and some guy, all talking about the school. I say I should have gone for on campus housing but I love my apartment too much. I talk about a beloved dorm room, that was so tiny I had to fold up my futon to get my desk chair out, but had french windows and a balcony.
I live in a big gothic suburban house with Ben S and my cousin. We order pizza. Ben and I rescue a bird made of twigs. Its disguise shifts and we see a tiny white bird like a parakeet. I catch it deftly in my hands and it squirms feebly. I'm sadly reminded of my bird, Wesley. I hold it carefully but it looks like the feathers are coming off its head. We put it down in a pachysandra and immediately think it's a mistake. There are dangerous animals all around. The vegetation retreats or whithers and it's just a patch of dirt where the bird should show up. We can't see it. We've lost our chance to save it.
Walking back to the house, I run into O and he asks for a kiss. We have a sad, sweet kiss and go inside.
A Halloween party at Ben S's suburban home. I dress as a mouse with large red plastic buck teeth. At a table we gossip about a friend who is pregnant and planning to marry her long time loutish boyfriend. She goes around hanging wedding invitations like hotel Please do not Disturb signs on the doorknobs.
I'm at SLC to do a college interview. I look at the paper I received and see that I'm supposed to go see my cousin J who is a professor here. I go to the science building and there's a small crowd to get on the escalator. Some young boys are singing oldies and I ask them if they were listening to the radio. We talk about how we like CCR and play air guitar on the escalator. I get off at the third floor when i see my cousin's name on the sign.
He's not expecting me. He's speaking to his girlfriend on the stairs and complaining about being hungover. I call down and tell him he's lucky his first interview of the day is me. He comes up cheerfully. His office is also his bedroom. I'm there with his girlfriend and some guy, all talking about the school. I say I should have gone for on campus housing but I love my apartment too much. I talk about a beloved dorm room, that was so tiny I had to fold up my futon to get my desk chair out, but had french windows and a balcony.
I live in a big gothic suburban house with Ben S and my cousin. We order pizza. Ben and I rescue a bird made of twigs. Its disguise shifts and we see a tiny white bird like a parakeet. I catch it deftly in my hands and it squirms feebly. I'm sadly reminded of my bird, Wesley. I hold it carefully but it looks like the feathers are coming off its head. We put it down in a pachysandra and immediately think it's a mistake. There are dangerous animals all around. The vegetation retreats or whithers and it's just a patch of dirt where the bird should show up. We can't see it. We've lost our chance to save it.
Walking back to the house, I run into O and he asks for a kiss. We have a sad, sweet kiss and go inside.
Monday, January 18, 2010
White Jeans; Theater; Air Jordan; Dessert
1/18/10
I'm in school or in a fancy office. I'm wearing super pristine white jeans. I go out into the city on my lunch break and climb up onto a fire escape where some teenagers are putting up their manifesto in graffitti. One kid tells me "Stay in School!" and I say that I'm out of school, I'm thirty. The kid seems impressed and becomes my chum. Sort of without my noticing, he puts neon red, yellow and green graffitti lines all over the knees of my white jeans. I'm upset for a minute but secretly I think it looks cool.
Going back I get mixed up in a huge line, like airport security. I'm filling out a customs form and it looks like I'm going to China. The expiditer asks if there's anyone by the name of GG around. I remember just seeing my friend G and I ask for the ticket to give to her. They just give me the stub. They finally call me and I race in. My luggage has been put into a larger protective suitcase with wheels. Instead of going into a plane, I'm heading into an amphitheater. I think we're going to see a play about Tolstoy. But I lose my grip on the rolling suitcase and it goes down the slope of the risers and crashes into some other seats. There's an older woman there who hectors me and I'm rude to her. I ask a guard where I can put the external suitcase and she points me to a side room. I go in and sort out my stuff. There's a dizzying array of tiny tubes of toothpaste and junk and it takes forever. I'm just getting nervous about getting back to the theater/plane, when the side room pulls away--it's a shuttle bus taking me to air Jordan. I yell "Noooo!" several times but no one pays attention. I resign myself. We get to the destination--the Jordanian embassy. I meet a dignitary there who has a table laden with desserts. Tim shows up and gets cake. I get nothing.
I'm sick and hopped up on decongestant, so that might be what's going on with this dream. I slept freakishly late and kept waking up and dozing back asleep. Plus my housemate was practicing the drums, so I'm pretty sure that had something to do with a brief dancing section.
I'm in school or in a fancy office. I'm wearing super pristine white jeans. I go out into the city on my lunch break and climb up onto a fire escape where some teenagers are putting up their manifesto in graffitti. One kid tells me "Stay in School!" and I say that I'm out of school, I'm thirty. The kid seems impressed and becomes my chum. Sort of without my noticing, he puts neon red, yellow and green graffitti lines all over the knees of my white jeans. I'm upset for a minute but secretly I think it looks cool.
Going back I get mixed up in a huge line, like airport security. I'm filling out a customs form and it looks like I'm going to China. The expiditer asks if there's anyone by the name of GG around. I remember just seeing my friend G and I ask for the ticket to give to her. They just give me the stub. They finally call me and I race in. My luggage has been put into a larger protective suitcase with wheels. Instead of going into a plane, I'm heading into an amphitheater. I think we're going to see a play about Tolstoy. But I lose my grip on the rolling suitcase and it goes down the slope of the risers and crashes into some other seats. There's an older woman there who hectors me and I'm rude to her. I ask a guard where I can put the external suitcase and she points me to a side room. I go in and sort out my stuff. There's a dizzying array of tiny tubes of toothpaste and junk and it takes forever. I'm just getting nervous about getting back to the theater/plane, when the side room pulls away--it's a shuttle bus taking me to air Jordan. I yell "Noooo!" several times but no one pays attention. I resign myself. We get to the destination--the Jordanian embassy. I meet a dignitary there who has a table laden with desserts. Tim shows up and gets cake. I get nothing.
I'm sick and hopped up on decongestant, so that might be what's going on with this dream. I slept freakishly late and kept waking up and dozing back asleep. Plus my housemate was practicing the drums, so I'm pretty sure that had something to do with a brief dancing section.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Tabloid Re-enactment; Rooftop; Jewels
1/17/10
I didn't write this down as soon as I woke up, so it's all scrambled and makes even less sense than usual.
A cheap film maker was making a recreation of a tabloid magazine's report of a kidnapped girl. She was kidnapped by satanists. It pretty much meant everyone dressed up in Conan the Barbarian type of leather underwear and red make up. I felt appalled for a minute but then realized the girl probably never even existed.
Chasing someone over the rooftops of a city building? Hiding something? Being chased?
In the house, getting ready to move or to sell stuff. I look through old boxes of jewelery. My mother is around, anxious. I find pendants made of onyx and agate, sort of mini obilisks. I also find lots of old glasses. I greedily pick through the pile of glasses and swap out my beaten-up case for a blue suede one.
I wish I could have remembered this better. I woke up sick today, though.
I didn't write this down as soon as I woke up, so it's all scrambled and makes even less sense than usual.
A cheap film maker was making a recreation of a tabloid magazine's report of a kidnapped girl. She was kidnapped by satanists. It pretty much meant everyone dressed up in Conan the Barbarian type of leather underwear and red make up. I felt appalled for a minute but then realized the girl probably never even existed.
Chasing someone over the rooftops of a city building? Hiding something? Being chased?
In the house, getting ready to move or to sell stuff. I look through old boxes of jewelery. My mother is around, anxious. I find pendants made of onyx and agate, sort of mini obilisks. I also find lots of old glasses. I greedily pick through the pile of glasses and swap out my beaten-up case for a blue suede one.
I wish I could have remembered this better. I woke up sick today, though.
The Heroine; Dog Nose; Camping
1/16/10
I had a dream in two parts. They were the continued adventures of a novel or movie heroine.
In the first part, a young woman--alternately me and seen by me--goes to a friend's house in California. The cast is a wholesome multi-culti mix of pretty young people. The heroine bops around the idyllic property, somewhat in the woods, until she comes on a neighbor's house and comes close enough to see that dog lying apparently asleep on the porch has been killed and mutilated. Its nose has been sawed off and it's dripping mucus or pus or something clear and viscous. She undertakes a mystery to find out if the neighbor did this. It keeps a sort of rom-com feel rather than a thriller feel.
In the second part, the heroine undertakes to drive a van full of prisoners. It's not clear if she's just transporting them or if she's breaking them out. The prisoners adore her and she stops to get groceries for them to cook as they sort of camp out.
I really like the sort of cinematic take this dream had. The drama was one step removed but still satisfying. I liked shifting in and out of the point of view of the heroine. When I was looking at her she had curly hair and blue eyes. Maybe Maggie Gyllenhallesque?
It reminded me of the half assed camping trips I would take with my brother and cousin in Arizona when we visited my grandmother. We spent more time thinking about what music we would play in the car than if we actually knew how to set up the tent. One time we went camping in the snow bowl in Flagstaff and woke up covered with little glowing blobs. We freaked out until we realized they were glow worms and then we were delighted.
I had a dream in two parts. They were the continued adventures of a novel or movie heroine.
In the first part, a young woman--alternately me and seen by me--goes to a friend's house in California. The cast is a wholesome multi-culti mix of pretty young people. The heroine bops around the idyllic property, somewhat in the woods, until she comes on a neighbor's house and comes close enough to see that dog lying apparently asleep on the porch has been killed and mutilated. Its nose has been sawed off and it's dripping mucus or pus or something clear and viscous. She undertakes a mystery to find out if the neighbor did this. It keeps a sort of rom-com feel rather than a thriller feel.
In the second part, the heroine undertakes to drive a van full of prisoners. It's not clear if she's just transporting them or if she's breaking them out. The prisoners adore her and she stops to get groceries for them to cook as they sort of camp out.
I really like the sort of cinematic take this dream had. The drama was one step removed but still satisfying. I liked shifting in and out of the point of view of the heroine. When I was looking at her she had curly hair and blue eyes. Maybe Maggie Gyllenhallesque?
It reminded me of the half assed camping trips I would take with my brother and cousin in Arizona when we visited my grandmother. We spent more time thinking about what music we would play in the car than if we actually knew how to set up the tent. One time we went camping in the snow bowl in Flagstaff and woke up covered with little glowing blobs. We freaked out until we realized they were glow worms and then we were delighted.
Jeans; Mystery: Nautical Symbols; Canal Village
1/15/10
Nick Cave and I break into someone's lovely apartment and fuck in a giant pile of blue jeans. There's a whole wall of them, sort of like a decorative tapestry. We try to get dressed again but there are heaps and heaps of clothes on the floor. I put on a shirt and just grab a pair of pants from the floor. The apartment is old-fashioned looking and pretty.
It's early in the morning and I have to get up. I stumble into the bathroom of the house in VA. I'm reading a mystery book I find there, a really lush high quality paperback by someone named Daevaid. He's a handsome British police commissioner. I can see through a window into my brother's bedroom. He's still in bed, so I guess he must be sick. The laptop is open on his desk and glowing. I tidy up the floor of the bathroom. There's Kleenex all over the floor and I realize I knew already my brother was sick.
My brother comes in but it's not him, it's the mysterious British guy from the book. He's dry and humorous and wearing a wool vest. I head downstairs. Our house is a private school or academic library. The downstairs is appointed with dark wood and rugs and there are long tables where students are eating. I'm waiting for the British guy, my favorite brother, when a young woman who is a student comes up with a question for me. She holds up a large piece of paper--maybe the size of a big menu. I open it up and see that it's full of cryptic writing. Splotchy writing and symbols. A lot of nautical symbols. Sharp crested waves and anchors. I get very excited as I realize I'm looking at a hand written draft of Moby Dick. I look around and see that lots of people have the symbols tattooed onto them. I look down and see that I have one too--waves on my wrist.
I go on a quest. I'm in a boat in a canal city like Venice, but it's really more of a small village. I keep a sharp lookout for the symbols and tattoos.
This was a very pretty, good humored dream. I'm impressed by the idea of space in it. In the bathroom in VA, the place where there was a window to see into my brother's room would actually open onto the room.
It's hard to read things in dreams. I was talking to my best friend later that day, who also had dreams where he had to read things and fill out forms, and then one of my clients (he just turned in a manuscript) said he had dreamed about getting notes from me but they were indecipherable because they were on faded 70s Polaroids. I was very pleased that I've gotten to the point with this client that we're talking about our dreams.
Nick Cave and I break into someone's lovely apartment and fuck in a giant pile of blue jeans. There's a whole wall of them, sort of like a decorative tapestry. We try to get dressed again but there are heaps and heaps of clothes on the floor. I put on a shirt and just grab a pair of pants from the floor. The apartment is old-fashioned looking and pretty.
It's early in the morning and I have to get up. I stumble into the bathroom of the house in VA. I'm reading a mystery book I find there, a really lush high quality paperback by someone named Daevaid. He's a handsome British police commissioner. I can see through a window into my brother's bedroom. He's still in bed, so I guess he must be sick. The laptop is open on his desk and glowing. I tidy up the floor of the bathroom. There's Kleenex all over the floor and I realize I knew already my brother was sick.
My brother comes in but it's not him, it's the mysterious British guy from the book. He's dry and humorous and wearing a wool vest. I head downstairs. Our house is a private school or academic library. The downstairs is appointed with dark wood and rugs and there are long tables where students are eating. I'm waiting for the British guy, my favorite brother, when a young woman who is a student comes up with a question for me. She holds up a large piece of paper--maybe the size of a big menu. I open it up and see that it's full of cryptic writing. Splotchy writing and symbols. A lot of nautical symbols. Sharp crested waves and anchors. I get very excited as I realize I'm looking at a hand written draft of Moby Dick. I look around and see that lots of people have the symbols tattooed onto them. I look down and see that I have one too--waves on my wrist.
I go on a quest. I'm in a boat in a canal city like Venice, but it's really more of a small village. I keep a sharp lookout for the symbols and tattoos.
This was a very pretty, good humored dream. I'm impressed by the idea of space in it. In the bathroom in VA, the place where there was a window to see into my brother's room would actually open onto the room.
It's hard to read things in dreams. I was talking to my best friend later that day, who also had dreams where he had to read things and fill out forms, and then one of my clients (he just turned in a manuscript) said he had dreamed about getting notes from me but they were indecipherable because they were on faded 70s Polaroids. I was very pleased that I've gotten to the point with this client that we're talking about our dreams.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Lead-headed Baby; Dancing In Museum
1/13/10
Walking through a model village in Africa. My mother is there and says she's eager to see the lead-headed baby. This sounds like a terrible racial epithet and I'm mortified. My mother explains that it's the offspring of a pygmy woman and a Hottentot and that it's a giant, sixty feet tall. I'm incredulous.
I go to the museum with M and J. I eat leftover middle eastern food. It's delicious and I make a big mess, spreading my little plastic containers and wax paper everywhere. M is sitting at the head of the table and J is on her right. Suddenly a tune starts and she and J jump up and start dancing. They're dancing the same steps, a little clumsy, but with great intensity. They're both wearing outlandish costumes, brightly colored. There's a step where they both jump and then a trumpet starts up and the tune is recognizable now. They form a sort of conga line and it's incredible, everyone knows the steps. I think about joining them but I would have to get up and stow all of my stuff. Suddenly a sinister man with two many fingers on his hands comes up and tells them they have to stop. He's the museum guard. The dancers disperse. Later, when we're looking at some drawings, a nebbishy young guy comes up and tells M her dance was good. He's just moved to NY. M tells the guy that she's lived here all her life.
Not so strange I should dream about Africa. Last week during a conversation about Africa I became ashamed of my ignorance and have spent all week studying maps. But why my mother? It was my father who lived in Africa for twenty years.
M's been on my mind a lot lately. I have strong, mixed feelings about her. I think she's perfectly nice but I'm shyer around her than I like to be. The other night when we were out with a mutual friend she said I should sit in the middle because I was so quiet. I thought, who is she talking about?
Walking through a model village in Africa. My mother is there and says she's eager to see the lead-headed baby. This sounds like a terrible racial epithet and I'm mortified. My mother explains that it's the offspring of a pygmy woman and a Hottentot and that it's a giant, sixty feet tall. I'm incredulous.
I go to the museum with M and J. I eat leftover middle eastern food. It's delicious and I make a big mess, spreading my little plastic containers and wax paper everywhere. M is sitting at the head of the table and J is on her right. Suddenly a tune starts and she and J jump up and start dancing. They're dancing the same steps, a little clumsy, but with great intensity. They're both wearing outlandish costumes, brightly colored. There's a step where they both jump and then a trumpet starts up and the tune is recognizable now. They form a sort of conga line and it's incredible, everyone knows the steps. I think about joining them but I would have to get up and stow all of my stuff. Suddenly a sinister man with two many fingers on his hands comes up and tells them they have to stop. He's the museum guard. The dancers disperse. Later, when we're looking at some drawings, a nebbishy young guy comes up and tells M her dance was good. He's just moved to NY. M tells the guy that she's lived here all her life.
Not so strange I should dream about Africa. Last week during a conversation about Africa I became ashamed of my ignorance and have spent all week studying maps. But why my mother? It was my father who lived in Africa for twenty years.
M's been on my mind a lot lately. I have strong, mixed feelings about her. I think she's perfectly nice but I'm shyer around her than I like to be. The other night when we were out with a mutual friend she said I should sit in the middle because I was so quiet. I thought, who is she talking about?
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Spider Romance; Flying Skateboard
1/12/10
I was at a beach? Feet sinking in sand. Waiting for something.
At E's house. Her mom is around too. I drive to the strip mall, near the bagel shop. An order of two bagels costs $31 and I'm outraged. I go back to the house, realizing it doesn't make sense to go back to my car. My license is expired, anyway. I interrupt a therapy session E is having. There are potted plants everywhere. And frat boys. Some of them I know, they're pretty nice guys. One of them starts up an electronic Christmas globe. You have to peel back the rubber face of the figure in the globe to hit the switch on his eye. It starts into a musical about two spiders who fall in love which turns into like an urban romance sitcom. Then about Spiderman. Spiderman lets frat boys egg him on and he gives Mary Jane a flying skate board for herself. She floats to the ground and tosses her engagement ring up into the air. I wonder why they replaced Tobey Maguire with a fat guy with dreadlocks to play Peter Parker.
I go to some fancy store to buy corduroy pants. There are also gloves with cut out fingers. For guys, the gloves are just plastic tubes shaped like sharks.
This was a sketchy memory. I woke up really sleepy and kept hitting snooze. I didn't write it down in a notebook first. It wasn't a very satisfying dream. I spent a lot of it confused and irritated. In retrospect it was pretty funny but I didn't enjoy it at the time.
I was at a beach? Feet sinking in sand. Waiting for something.
At E's house. Her mom is around too. I drive to the strip mall, near the bagel shop. An order of two bagels costs $31 and I'm outraged. I go back to the house, realizing it doesn't make sense to go back to my car. My license is expired, anyway. I interrupt a therapy session E is having. There are potted plants everywhere. And frat boys. Some of them I know, they're pretty nice guys. One of them starts up an electronic Christmas globe. You have to peel back the rubber face of the figure in the globe to hit the switch on his eye. It starts into a musical about two spiders who fall in love which turns into like an urban romance sitcom. Then about Spiderman. Spiderman lets frat boys egg him on and he gives Mary Jane a flying skate board for herself. She floats to the ground and tosses her engagement ring up into the air. I wonder why they replaced Tobey Maguire with a fat guy with dreadlocks to play Peter Parker.
I go to some fancy store to buy corduroy pants. There are also gloves with cut out fingers. For guys, the gloves are just plastic tubes shaped like sharks.
This was a sketchy memory. I woke up really sleepy and kept hitting snooze. I didn't write it down in a notebook first. It wasn't a very satisfying dream. I spent a lot of it confused and irritated. In retrospect it was pretty funny but I didn't enjoy it at the time.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Vampire Office; No Dog; Waverly Root Biography
1/11/10
In an office building. The scene of exciting chase and rivalry-between two businesspeople? There was also a vampire-like character. Finally, I was there with my friend S, who was using the computer to write a report. She wrote an impressive amount.
I met a guy there who was determined to be my boyfriend. We kissed hard against the wall. I tepidly followed him back to his nice suburban bungalow. I had been looking forward to seeing his dog. He showed me the dog pajamas he had. The dog was away and I was very disappointed. There were cats there too, and he started making a special dish for them. I had to taste the cat food, which was very vivid in the dream. His mother asked me about my vision and I explained I was near sighted. On their bookshelf I noticed a tattered old volume, but it had my name on it. It was a biography of Waverly Root that Kurt Vonnegut and I had written. I opened it up and read a passage out loud, and while being secretly disappointed that no adventures happened in that passage, I said that it sounded like James Thurber, didn't it?
A dream about pale disappointment. I was aware of disappointing the boy, which offset my own disgruntlement some. I don't actually know anything about Waverly Root except that he's a food writer and his name is cool.
In an office building. The scene of exciting chase and rivalry-between two businesspeople? There was also a vampire-like character. Finally, I was there with my friend S, who was using the computer to write a report. She wrote an impressive amount.
I met a guy there who was determined to be my boyfriend. We kissed hard against the wall. I tepidly followed him back to his nice suburban bungalow. I had been looking forward to seeing his dog. He showed me the dog pajamas he had. The dog was away and I was very disappointed. There were cats there too, and he started making a special dish for them. I had to taste the cat food, which was very vivid in the dream. His mother asked me about my vision and I explained I was near sighted. On their bookshelf I noticed a tattered old volume, but it had my name on it. It was a biography of Waverly Root that Kurt Vonnegut and I had written. I opened it up and read a passage out loud, and while being secretly disappointed that no adventures happened in that passage, I said that it sounded like James Thurber, didn't it?
A dream about pale disappointment. I was aware of disappointing the boy, which offset my own disgruntlement some. I don't actually know anything about Waverly Root except that he's a food writer and his name is cool.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Chinese Class; Vampire House: Train: Costume Party
1/9/10
Chinese class. I'm sitting around a big table. Our Chinese teacher is actually Italian. I haven't studied and I don't know what section I'm supposed to be in. The teacher hands out pages from instruction manuals and magazines. We're supposed to look at pictures and the articles and tell stories about them in Chinese. I do a fumbling job. My article is about a country singer. I can remember how to say "She likes eggs" but I can't remember how to say "music". I see that my Chinese hostess mother is overwhelmed with big colorful rubber bands and I offer to take some back. She's delighted.
I'm in a big, stately house with garden elements, like the mezannine is a garden. There are zombies or vampires everywhere. It's supposed to be kind of humorous. We bury our Homer Simpsonesque dad. We brush the dirt back from his face so he can still talk to us and his long lips poke out above ground. I fight monsters off with a wooden flute or something. I wear a metal eye patch. Someone comes up with a plan to blow us all up when he becomes a vampire. To prepare for this, I collect some little wooden toys--like a rooster watch and a puppet of an animal playing the drums. I go to my room and offer to share it with another Vampire woman.
I'm trying to flee town on a train. I jump off the platform at the last minute and grab it. Then I realize I don't have a ticket or any money. The conductor comes by and I have to prove my identity. We stop at another station and I scramble to try to get a ticket but the train is leaving again. This time I have to outrun it and leap on. Other hobos are impressed. The conductor, who is the doorman Willy from my office, stands around boredly while I produce ticket stubs with mangled versions of my name on them. Finally he says my driver's license will do, so I show him that. He tells me the ball of brown yarn I have in my bag is dangerous.
It's a village wide festival of costumes. I walk past people dressed elaborately. There's a guy dancing in the river and I yell at him to keep dancing. I get to an old but pretty factory where a guy has set up a huge juice factory. Old machines are squeezing citrus and the juice rushes into a porcelain tank. He's also making opaque but beautiful juice out of pears. His role is as juice gangster.
What a beautiful, elaborate, exciting dream. The most fun was outrunning the train and jumping on it. The Chinese class was both a little anxious and a little fun. When I woke up I was pleased at myself for remembering so much Chinese even in my dream. The costume party was so fun and comradely. The juice factory was beautiful. I couldn't wait to drink the delicious juice.
A couple of things: I seem to dream an awful lot about putting on costumes or plays. It's interesting that when I was looking for someway to prove who I was, I couldn't find anything with my name on it correctly. There were a lot of botched variations.
Chinese class. I'm sitting around a big table. Our Chinese teacher is actually Italian. I haven't studied and I don't know what section I'm supposed to be in. The teacher hands out pages from instruction manuals and magazines. We're supposed to look at pictures and the articles and tell stories about them in Chinese. I do a fumbling job. My article is about a country singer. I can remember how to say "She likes eggs" but I can't remember how to say "music". I see that my Chinese hostess mother is overwhelmed with big colorful rubber bands and I offer to take some back. She's delighted.
I'm in a big, stately house with garden elements, like the mezannine is a garden. There are zombies or vampires everywhere. It's supposed to be kind of humorous. We bury our Homer Simpsonesque dad. We brush the dirt back from his face so he can still talk to us and his long lips poke out above ground. I fight monsters off with a wooden flute or something. I wear a metal eye patch. Someone comes up with a plan to blow us all up when he becomes a vampire. To prepare for this, I collect some little wooden toys--like a rooster watch and a puppet of an animal playing the drums. I go to my room and offer to share it with another Vampire woman.
I'm trying to flee town on a train. I jump off the platform at the last minute and grab it. Then I realize I don't have a ticket or any money. The conductor comes by and I have to prove my identity. We stop at another station and I scramble to try to get a ticket but the train is leaving again. This time I have to outrun it and leap on. Other hobos are impressed. The conductor, who is the doorman Willy from my office, stands around boredly while I produce ticket stubs with mangled versions of my name on them. Finally he says my driver's license will do, so I show him that. He tells me the ball of brown yarn I have in my bag is dangerous.
It's a village wide festival of costumes. I walk past people dressed elaborately. There's a guy dancing in the river and I yell at him to keep dancing. I get to an old but pretty factory where a guy has set up a huge juice factory. Old machines are squeezing citrus and the juice rushes into a porcelain tank. He's also making opaque but beautiful juice out of pears. His role is as juice gangster.
What a beautiful, elaborate, exciting dream. The most fun was outrunning the train and jumping on it. The Chinese class was both a little anxious and a little fun. When I woke up I was pleased at myself for remembering so much Chinese even in my dream. The costume party was so fun and comradely. The juice factory was beautiful. I couldn't wait to drink the delicious juice.
A couple of things: I seem to dream an awful lot about putting on costumes or plays. It's interesting that when I was looking for someway to prove who I was, I couldn't find anything with my name on it correctly. There were a lot of botched variations.
Forest Band; Big Rabbits; Dust
1/8/10
I'm in a forest/living room with my buddy B. We're playing rock band. His tiny passive aggressive neighbor woman cmes over to complain. I sit down in the moss and look at maple trees. Two friends come by and ask what I've learned. I say glumly that I've learned C. I was playing key boards and hitting a button every time a tiny glowing blue C appeared. Then I make up for my slow learning by saying I can identify trees. Looking around, I see oak, maple, and sweet gum.
I'm in M's new book. I'm one of the young girls in the woods, playing pretend. This forest is very hilly. I go deeper into the woods and see huge rabbits playing on the hill. They laugh so hard that they fall over.
On Covey Island with my father and stepmother. I have a huge suitcase, and when I unpack it, the dark clothes are covered with light colored dust.
I'm driving a huge car.
Well, now it looks like the big car dream is at the end of the night.
I keep having these very beautiful, bucolic dreams. Odd since I live in the city. But I do go to Central Park every day. That's where I try to brainstorm about my writing. There's a a grove next to a bridge with a giant beech tree that's especially helpful.
I'm in a forest/living room with my buddy B. We're playing rock band. His tiny passive aggressive neighbor woman cmes over to complain. I sit down in the moss and look at maple trees. Two friends come by and ask what I've learned. I say glumly that I've learned C. I was playing key boards and hitting a button every time a tiny glowing blue C appeared. Then I make up for my slow learning by saying I can identify trees. Looking around, I see oak, maple, and sweet gum.
I'm in M's new book. I'm one of the young girls in the woods, playing pretend. This forest is very hilly. I go deeper into the woods and see huge rabbits playing on the hill. They laugh so hard that they fall over.
On Covey Island with my father and stepmother. I have a huge suitcase, and when I unpack it, the dark clothes are covered with light colored dust.
I'm driving a huge car.
Well, now it looks like the big car dream is at the end of the night.
I keep having these very beautiful, bucolic dreams. Odd since I live in the city. But I do go to Central Park every day. That's where I try to brainstorm about my writing. There's a a grove next to a bridge with a giant beech tree that's especially helpful.
No I Will Not Hang Out With You; Bug House; Censorship
1/7/10
I get into a van in a gravel parking lot
Going to the movies with my brother and my loathed ex, JM. JM is scruffy and pimpled. We go to lunch after and my brother discreetly finds another seat so I'm alone with JM who wants to spend more time with me.
Maybe the movie but then I'm in it--John Flansberg from TMBG is in a dangerous construction site. An old house all crushed in with pieces of broken timber poking out. I gingerly follow in. I soon realize that each little fallen in room is also full of huge, hairy, neon colored venomous insects. They are glossy and wet-looking too. I watch an ant-like creature the size of my hand slowly scramble out from other a piece of debris. I'm hesitant to cross the room at first but then I remember I've brought my toad. I take the toad out and he eats a path of insects for me so i can go through the room.
Putting on a play with kids about their ancestors. Someone goes through the library and picks out all the racist books. I'm sitting there, pulling up my shiny blue socks and drunk. I say that while racism is terrible, I'm against censorship.
I'm making furniture in an old house. There's a primitive iron chandelier and old carpets on the floor.
Video game of bowling or driving--the point seems to be knocking down things that look like long skinny traffic cones.
Okay, what the hell is going on with the first dream of the night being about getting into a van? That's always the part I remember least. But I've had three dreams this week about running away or traveling and two of them start with getting into a van in an empty outdoor lot.
Again with the young black kids putting on skits.
I loved the part of the dream with the toad. I was looking at the insects, thinking hey, normally I don't have a problem with bugs but these are gross, and then remembering the toad at the last minute. I was really pleased with myself for being prepared and very fond of my toad.
I get into a van in a gravel parking lot
Going to the movies with my brother and my loathed ex, JM. JM is scruffy and pimpled. We go to lunch after and my brother discreetly finds another seat so I'm alone with JM who wants to spend more time with me.
Maybe the movie but then I'm in it--John Flansberg from TMBG is in a dangerous construction site. An old house all crushed in with pieces of broken timber poking out. I gingerly follow in. I soon realize that each little fallen in room is also full of huge, hairy, neon colored venomous insects. They are glossy and wet-looking too. I watch an ant-like creature the size of my hand slowly scramble out from other a piece of debris. I'm hesitant to cross the room at first but then I remember I've brought my toad. I take the toad out and he eats a path of insects for me so i can go through the room.
Putting on a play with kids about their ancestors. Someone goes through the library and picks out all the racist books. I'm sitting there, pulling up my shiny blue socks and drunk. I say that while racism is terrible, I'm against censorship.
I'm making furniture in an old house. There's a primitive iron chandelier and old carpets on the floor.
Video game of bowling or driving--the point seems to be knocking down things that look like long skinny traffic cones.
Okay, what the hell is going on with the first dream of the night being about getting into a van? That's always the part I remember least. But I've had three dreams this week about running away or traveling and two of them start with getting into a van in an empty outdoor lot.
Again with the young black kids putting on skits.
I loved the part of the dream with the toad. I was looking at the insects, thinking hey, normally I don't have a problem with bugs but these are gross, and then remembering the toad at the last minute. I was really pleased with myself for being prepared and very fond of my toad.
White Rose; School Theatricals; Shopping For Glass
1/6/10
Going on a trip. Bundling kids into a van
Visiting a boyfriend at the cafeteria of a big business or college. I don't recognize who the boyfriend was, but he was nerdy. We have lunch with two friends, British brothers named Tom and Sam who think I'm funny. Go back to bf's house and kiss but when it's time for sex I insist on a condom. He's holding a white rose. I'm not sure if the rose is intended for me or if he's in love with the rose himself. He refuses to have sex and I'm terribly upset. I go upstairs where he has a row of old boom boxes.
In a class. I look at an old picture of grade school. We're in a school theater--makeshift out of the cafeteria or something. Student groups present skits. They're wearing beautiful clothes from a costume box. Old tablecloths and curtains with beautiful patterns are folded into tunics and robes. I am watching myself in a skit. It's about a time traveling black kid.
I babysit my niece. She wants me to read Where The Wild Things Are.
I go to a big department store. It's like a cross between a sketchy discount store like Ocean State Job Lot and H&M or something. The front is a grocery store and I compare the price of broccoli raab. In the display is a tiny Christmas tree decorated with a sparkling boot. I wander into the clothing section and go to try on a blouse when I find I've taken off my pants. I manage to get them back on and abandon the clothes for a section of the store that's a junk shop. I find boxes full of bottles made of Roman glass and old boxes of film.
This dream had some anxiety but the colors and patterns were very beautiful. At the end, the Roman glass was the most spectacular. It's old glass that's semi-melted or something and has an iridescent sheen to it.
For some reason, when I dream of school, which I do a fair amount, the students are always middle school aged black kids. I used to teach at a non-profit and while my students were almost all black, they were my age.
Going on a trip. Bundling kids into a van
Visiting a boyfriend at the cafeteria of a big business or college. I don't recognize who the boyfriend was, but he was nerdy. We have lunch with two friends, British brothers named Tom and Sam who think I'm funny. Go back to bf's house and kiss but when it's time for sex I insist on a condom. He's holding a white rose. I'm not sure if the rose is intended for me or if he's in love with the rose himself. He refuses to have sex and I'm terribly upset. I go upstairs where he has a row of old boom boxes.
In a class. I look at an old picture of grade school. We're in a school theater--makeshift out of the cafeteria or something. Student groups present skits. They're wearing beautiful clothes from a costume box. Old tablecloths and curtains with beautiful patterns are folded into tunics and robes. I am watching myself in a skit. It's about a time traveling black kid.
I babysit my niece. She wants me to read Where The Wild Things Are.
I go to a big department store. It's like a cross between a sketchy discount store like Ocean State Job Lot and H&M or something. The front is a grocery store and I compare the price of broccoli raab. In the display is a tiny Christmas tree decorated with a sparkling boot. I wander into the clothing section and go to try on a blouse when I find I've taken off my pants. I manage to get them back on and abandon the clothes for a section of the store that's a junk shop. I find boxes full of bottles made of Roman glass and old boxes of film.
This dream had some anxiety but the colors and patterns were very beautiful. At the end, the Roman glass was the most spectacular. It's old glass that's semi-melted or something and has an iridescent sheen to it.
For some reason, when I dream of school, which I do a fair amount, the students are always middle school aged black kids. I used to teach at a non-profit and while my students were almost all black, they were my age.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Caper; Comedy; Ghost Eyes; Cab; Eagle Museum
1/5/10
I'm back in Virginia, getting ready for some important trip or mission. I can't remember what it was--I think I might have been getting ready to blow something up, or going on a tryst, or running away. Something that made me anxious but terribly excited. I filled my bag with socks, pastries, and juice. I had to talk normally and pretend to be asleep at points. A really delicious feeling.
At a summer camp. The director--my grandmother? Says that we should all come up with jokes. We all do and then she says the boys will go on stage at midnight. I'm kind of outraged that girls can't tell the jokes. I think about how hard it is to buck the system. We go across a Chinese lake in a boat. Another woman puts my hair up into cute buns on the top of my head and talks about her life in comedy.
We land and go to a big pavilion. The MC is all ready to introduce my old roommate H when some old guy with a blood pressure cuff on his arm takes the second mike. The MC starts nudging H off but she's not going without a fight. The MC and the old guy try to be conciliatory. "Do you want to go next?" they ask. "No!" says H. "Do you want a stick with a nail through it?" I ask. (Meaning like a weapon for H to attack the old guy with.) I think it's a hilarious joke but I don't know if anyone else hears.
Walking through the streets of New York. It's like that scene in Ghost when Whoopi Goldberg cashes the check and Patrick Swayze has to convince her to give it to nuns. She's upset. I can't tell where I am in this dream. And then I see that Whoopi is dead too, her head is a skull. Everyone is dead. Everyone has a gauze patch over their right eye. I ask someone why and they say it's just something pleasant when you're dead. I don't know if this means it enhances vision for dead people, or it keeps us from having to look at their eyes. Why just the right one? I also see a man with an incredibly long thin nose. It looks like an insect antenna.
We climb into a cab, my companion reassuring me the living will never notice. But everyone notices us right away. We drive through the city to a newly restored Greek temple/museum. O says he's excited about seeing a play there soon. I counter with some other fancy play. The cab driver, a feisty woman, drives the cab right up the front of the building, bumping against the columns and ridges. It's fun and hilarious. We all overtip the driver and she tells us she'll drive us anytime.
We go into the temple/museum. The old guy from the comedy show is there. We walk through halls and there are rooms where there are "eagles". They're really beautiful young men with wings. One of them sees the crowd of tourists coming and shuts his door. I think of it as being in the zoo and the lion goes into his cave. I'm disappointed but not resentful.
I remember a lot of detail from that first part of the dream, like the flaky pastries I packed and sorting through the laundry in the basement. It was a very realistic version of my home back in VA. I wish I could remember what was going on. I think it might have to do with my memory of going to the inauguration a year ago. Lots of my friends came down from NY and spent the night. We all got up super early and my mother packed us tangerines and Kleenex and hand warmers. My mother is the best. There was that same caperish feel in the air. But in the dream, I was doing it secretly, which made it even more delicious. What was it?
I really liked the summer camp/ghost town/museum sequence. I liked the feeling of defiance at the comedy show. The cab ride was hysterical. The eyes with gauze on them feel like they should mean something but I don't know what.
I'm back in Virginia, getting ready for some important trip or mission. I can't remember what it was--I think I might have been getting ready to blow something up, or going on a tryst, or running away. Something that made me anxious but terribly excited. I filled my bag with socks, pastries, and juice. I had to talk normally and pretend to be asleep at points. A really delicious feeling.
At a summer camp. The director--my grandmother? Says that we should all come up with jokes. We all do and then she says the boys will go on stage at midnight. I'm kind of outraged that girls can't tell the jokes. I think about how hard it is to buck the system. We go across a Chinese lake in a boat. Another woman puts my hair up into cute buns on the top of my head and talks about her life in comedy.
We land and go to a big pavilion. The MC is all ready to introduce my old roommate H when some old guy with a blood pressure cuff on his arm takes the second mike. The MC starts nudging H off but she's not going without a fight. The MC and the old guy try to be conciliatory. "Do you want to go next?" they ask. "No!" says H. "Do you want a stick with a nail through it?" I ask. (Meaning like a weapon for H to attack the old guy with.) I think it's a hilarious joke but I don't know if anyone else hears.
Walking through the streets of New York. It's like that scene in Ghost when Whoopi Goldberg cashes the check and Patrick Swayze has to convince her to give it to nuns. She's upset. I can't tell where I am in this dream. And then I see that Whoopi is dead too, her head is a skull. Everyone is dead. Everyone has a gauze patch over their right eye. I ask someone why and they say it's just something pleasant when you're dead. I don't know if this means it enhances vision for dead people, or it keeps us from having to look at their eyes. Why just the right one? I also see a man with an incredibly long thin nose. It looks like an insect antenna.
We climb into a cab, my companion reassuring me the living will never notice. But everyone notices us right away. We drive through the city to a newly restored Greek temple/museum. O says he's excited about seeing a play there soon. I counter with some other fancy play. The cab driver, a feisty woman, drives the cab right up the front of the building, bumping against the columns and ridges. It's fun and hilarious. We all overtip the driver and she tells us she'll drive us anytime.
We go into the temple/museum. The old guy from the comedy show is there. We walk through halls and there are rooms where there are "eagles". They're really beautiful young men with wings. One of them sees the crowd of tourists coming and shuts his door. I think of it as being in the zoo and the lion goes into his cave. I'm disappointed but not resentful.
I remember a lot of detail from that first part of the dream, like the flaky pastries I packed and sorting through the laundry in the basement. It was a very realistic version of my home back in VA. I wish I could remember what was going on. I think it might have to do with my memory of going to the inauguration a year ago. Lots of my friends came down from NY and spent the night. We all got up super early and my mother packed us tangerines and Kleenex and hand warmers. My mother is the best. There was that same caperish feel in the air. But in the dream, I was doing it secretly, which made it even more delicious. What was it?
I really liked the summer camp/ghost town/museum sequence. I liked the feeling of defiance at the comedy show. The cab ride was hysterical. The eyes with gauze on them feel like they should mean something but I don't know what.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Gold Canyon; Tea Party/Raft; Dog Shelter
1/4/10
I'm looking down into a parched canyon full of gold coins as the dialogue from "The Worshipful Lucia" all about investing in gold mines goes on. Piles of coins rise and fall. It's very beautiful but I feel like it's going to lead to trouble.
I go to M's for tea. My father is there too and my friend S. Actually, I can't tell if it's M's place or S's. I don't recognize it. I put tea in my new thermos, my dad sets up a tray with china mugs after cleaning them out. S talks about her troubles with her new boyfriend and M asks if I'm mad at her. I tell her no, I'm just anxious because I told her something I shouldn't have. We take a raft up the coast. The water is incredibly busy. I keep expecting us to smack into the other boats. Instead, I seem to be floating up off the raft. I reach down and grab the hand of some friendly girls who are also floating by. I'm restored to my raft.
I meet my grandmother by the dog rescue.
One of those wretched "I'm awake let me just make myself a sandwich and a cup of tea and stumble out the door" dreams.
A pretty dream but definitely showing real anxieties. I did in fact tell M something I shouldn't have. And I have to go to work after five days of sleeping in. Suck.
I'm looking down into a parched canyon full of gold coins as the dialogue from "The Worshipful Lucia" all about investing in gold mines goes on. Piles of coins rise and fall. It's very beautiful but I feel like it's going to lead to trouble.
I go to M's for tea. My father is there too and my friend S. Actually, I can't tell if it's M's place or S's. I don't recognize it. I put tea in my new thermos, my dad sets up a tray with china mugs after cleaning them out. S talks about her troubles with her new boyfriend and M asks if I'm mad at her. I tell her no, I'm just anxious because I told her something I shouldn't have. We take a raft up the coast. The water is incredibly busy. I keep expecting us to smack into the other boats. Instead, I seem to be floating up off the raft. I reach down and grab the hand of some friendly girls who are also floating by. I'm restored to my raft.
I meet my grandmother by the dog rescue.
One of those wretched "I'm awake let me just make myself a sandwich and a cup of tea and stumble out the door" dreams.
A pretty dream but definitely showing real anxieties. I did in fact tell M something I shouldn't have. And I have to go to work after five days of sleeping in. Suck.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Festival; C Brings Goodies
1/3/10
Again with P's screenplay! I'm at a big outdoor festival--it's like a school fair or a Scottish games thing or something. P's brother is there and tells me grimly that the reading of the screenplay has been cancelled but he doesn't have a ride so he's stuck at the festival for another two hours.
C comes to visit me en route to somewhere else. She brings all kinds of things--sketches by a famous artist, an old-fashioned cloth doll, an old Walkman, and a really great biology book. I start reading the book and see illustrations of snakes and pine cones. The preface tells the story of an amateur naturalist who duelled with some other guy and cut off his hand. C brags to JF that she knows David Bowie.
It's weird that I keep dreaming of P's screenplay. I don't even see P that much. And the show itself is usually only alluded to.
C and I talked about her visiting but we didn't work it out. It's too bad. She'd be an ideal buddy for me to have in New York. I really want to talk her into living here.
Again with P's screenplay! I'm at a big outdoor festival--it's like a school fair or a Scottish games thing or something. P's brother is there and tells me grimly that the reading of the screenplay has been cancelled but he doesn't have a ride so he's stuck at the festival for another two hours.
C comes to visit me en route to somewhere else. She brings all kinds of things--sketches by a famous artist, an old-fashioned cloth doll, an old Walkman, and a really great biology book. I start reading the book and see illustrations of snakes and pine cones. The preface tells the story of an amateur naturalist who duelled with some other guy and cut off his hand. C brags to JF that she knows David Bowie.
It's weird that I keep dreaming of P's screenplay. I don't even see P that much. And the show itself is usually only alluded to.
C and I talked about her visiting but we didn't work it out. It's too bad. She'd be an ideal buddy for me to have in New York. I really want to talk her into living here.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Etiquette Class; The Flood
1/2/09
My mother was telling stories about when I was younger and I was both listening to her tell them and in little vignettes of the stories. In one of them, I was five years old and sent to see my mother's best friend. In another, I was in an etiquette class, wearing a skirt suit and cotton gloves. I sat in a row with other women. The instructor told us how to sit with our legs crossed all at the same angle, and hold our arms in front of us so we could sit closer. I kept getting wedged out of place by the other women.
My family got ready for a flood. I pulled my car up to the top of a hill. My mother didn't want me going out alone but when the flood hit I went around the neighborhoods. I saved a tiny girl--she was really tiny, the size of a doll. I wrapped her up in my sock and fixed the tiny toy boat she was floating in. She told me how to find her family, who were grateful.
My mother was telling stories about when I was younger and I was both listening to her tell them and in little vignettes of the stories. In one of them, I was five years old and sent to see my mother's best friend. In another, I was in an etiquette class, wearing a skirt suit and cotton gloves. I sat in a row with other women. The instructor told us how to sit with our legs crossed all at the same angle, and hold our arms in front of us so we could sit closer. I kept getting wedged out of place by the other women.
My family got ready for a flood. I pulled my car up to the top of a hill. My mother didn't want me going out alone but when the flood hit I went around the neighborhoods. I saved a tiny girl--she was really tiny, the size of a doll. I wrapped her up in my sock and fixed the tiny toy boat she was floating in. She told me how to find her family, who were grateful.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Oh Dear; Hot Shower
1/1/10
My friends open up my little duffel suitcase and find it full of dildos. They are appalled and I have to run away. I can't believe my life is ruined over something so stupid.
My lip is chapped and as I worry at the skin it splits open. There's a seed-like pellet of sebum there and I try to pull it out. I make an appointment to see a doctor for it.
I'm the mom of two young girls and my husband is the Robert Downey Jr version of Iron Man. I pick the girls up from school and meet my husband at home where he's still asleep. I climb into bed with him and he rubs against my ass until he comes.
I go to take a shower and a bunch of other people around the house pop by. I'm more annoyed than embarrassed and mollified when one of them compliments my lush pubic hair.
What the fuck? This was a very fucked up dream. The first half was very anxious--I think having to do with spilling a secret recently, although not dildo related.
The second half was very hot. I think again echoes of watching Sherlock Holmes and the new Iron Man 2 trailer four billion times.
My friends open up my little duffel suitcase and find it full of dildos. They are appalled and I have to run away. I can't believe my life is ruined over something so stupid.
My lip is chapped and as I worry at the skin it splits open. There's a seed-like pellet of sebum there and I try to pull it out. I make an appointment to see a doctor for it.
I'm the mom of two young girls and my husband is the Robert Downey Jr version of Iron Man. I pick the girls up from school and meet my husband at home where he's still asleep. I climb into bed with him and he rubs against my ass until he comes.
I go to take a shower and a bunch of other people around the house pop by. I'm more annoyed than embarrassed and mollified when one of them compliments my lush pubic hair.
What the fuck? This was a very fucked up dream. The first half was very anxious--I think having to do with spilling a secret recently, although not dildo related.
The second half was very hot. I think again echoes of watching Sherlock Holmes and the new Iron Man 2 trailer four billion times.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
