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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.