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.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
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.
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