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.
Monday, January 18, 2010
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.
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