3/30/10
My whole family is visiting with M&J. I feel like we're really imposing--my dad keeps eating all the food, (it's mostly a pale pasty lumpy kind of food--potatoes? Undercooked dough?) my brother and sister and law have to noisy babies, I don't know why we're here in the first place. I apologize and bring groceries home. M seems kind of overwhelmed and pissed but she doesn't say anything. I kind of adapt and then there are lots more people in the house. Schlubby but interesting guys. One guy wearing like an earflap hat comes into the rec room where my family is camped out. I come in and find him lying in a litter of autumn leaves. He's made a silver spear head that I pick up and admire. He starts kissing me and pinching my bottom in a sexy way. I've just met someone so I try to hold out but it's pretty nice.
The eclectic group get together for some kind of game or dance. It suddenly shifts to outside. I'm holding a dog straining at its leash.
Wow, how's that for obvious symbolism? The spear head? Holding a dog on a leash? Okay, okay, I'm really horny.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Lucid Dream; House Cleaning for Vampires; Tree Arsenal for Crows
3/26/10
Lucid dream. Walking naked through a clean, bright house, empty, lots of lights and windows and polished hard wood floors. Feeling of triumph as I realize I'm dreaming. It's hard to believe because it feels so real but I have absolute conviction. I turn on the water in a big bathtub or sink.
She's a vampire
I'm cleaning the house to prepare for a vampire takeover.
Comics and clothes--suspected theft--Mom and kids in Toys R Us.
The cleaning lady wakes me up (still actually asleep).
There's an enormous murder of crows, sweeping back and forth from tree to roof to ground. Someone urges me to collect sycamore balls (they're really sweet gum tree balls) to throw at them and chase them away.
He's a werewolf.
Lucid dream. Walking naked through a clean, bright house, empty, lots of lights and windows and polished hard wood floors. Feeling of triumph as I realize I'm dreaming. It's hard to believe because it feels so real but I have absolute conviction. I turn on the water in a big bathtub or sink.
She's a vampire
I'm cleaning the house to prepare for a vampire takeover.
Comics and clothes--suspected theft--Mom and kids in Toys R Us.
The cleaning lady wakes me up (still actually asleep).
There's an enormous murder of crows, sweeping back and forth from tree to roof to ground. Someone urges me to collect sycamore balls (they're really sweet gum tree balls) to throw at them and chase them away.
He's a werewolf.
Ella Cinders Neighbor; Top 10 Man Songs; Redwood Farm in a Storm; Taking the Children and Leaving Jewels
3/25/10
I'm with Eric and Laura. We're taking cookies to a neighbor. Dad and Will are there. The neighbors have a huge collection of Ella Cinders comics.
I walk past a parking lot where OK Go are making a music video. They're wrapped up in black bags or pieces of cloth from the torso up, lying on the ground. There are colored banners waving in the gray parking lot. I continue to walk to E&L's, knowing the band wouldn't want too much attention.
I try to work at a big cluttered desk or table, and there are people all around including a radio talk show host named Babe, who is a big black guy with black plastic rimmed nerd glasses.
I'm in a car with Will making out, listening to a radio show of the top 10 songs about being a man.
A Chinese couple argues. She wants him to make a fancy costume. I plan to go as Ella Cinders in my blue raincoat. I go down to pet a dog but realize it's not the one I thought it was. Instead it's someone's seeing eye dog. Laura reads and Eric makes a painting of a farm in the California redwoods and the mountains. Storm clouds move in and the tops of the trees point together in a complicated perspective. It's a very beautiful painting with all the parts seem so separate on the page, or I notice each part very particularly.
Laura suggests a villain from Ella Cinders. Some old timey disease or personification of death. He leaves sick children behind but drags the dead ones with him. He leaves behind bright, cartoonish jewels for the grieving parents.
I'm with Eric and Laura. We're taking cookies to a neighbor. Dad and Will are there. The neighbors have a huge collection of Ella Cinders comics.
I walk past a parking lot where OK Go are making a music video. They're wrapped up in black bags or pieces of cloth from the torso up, lying on the ground. There are colored banners waving in the gray parking lot. I continue to walk to E&L's, knowing the band wouldn't want too much attention.
I try to work at a big cluttered desk or table, and there are people all around including a radio talk show host named Babe, who is a big black guy with black plastic rimmed nerd glasses.
I'm in a car with Will making out, listening to a radio show of the top 10 songs about being a man.
A Chinese couple argues. She wants him to make a fancy costume. I plan to go as Ella Cinders in my blue raincoat. I go down to pet a dog but realize it's not the one I thought it was. Instead it's someone's seeing eye dog. Laura reads and Eric makes a painting of a farm in the California redwoods and the mountains. Storm clouds move in and the tops of the trees point together in a complicated perspective. It's a very beautiful painting with all the parts seem so separate on the page, or I notice each part very particularly.
Laura suggests a villain from Ella Cinders. Some old timey disease or personification of death. He leaves sick children behind but drags the dead ones with him. He leaves behind bright, cartoonish jewels for the grieving parents.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Beer Garden; Bad Grades: Squid Photography
3/27/10
I'm at a tiny foreign resort town or island. Somewhere obscure European. I go to an outdoor cafe and I've noticed an older dork man casting me glances. While I have a drink and ignore him, a very young guy with a Hitler mustache comes up and chats self-consciously. I get rid of him and as I'm leaving, the old guy introduces himself as Phil. I excuse myself. I'm going back to the hotel where I'm doing some important research. Will is there and we're on a working vacation.
As I leave the beer garden, I see Melvin. I shout out to him happily and we go back for a drink. He's brought a bunch of papers of mine he's marking up. My history paper for Fred Smoler is a disgrace, the points I make at the beginning are too vague. The paper is a faded xerox and my typing isn't clear but there are red, blue and purple colored markings in a large looping handwriting all over it. I'm a little ashamed but mostly excited about other projects that made me skimp on history. A philosophy paper and a biology project. I got to photograph a special kind of squid. I almost drop my big glass of beer in excitement.
I'm walking against the crowd in a busy city. Young people partying but I have a mission. To photograph the squid, I don't use photopaper but slabs o carefully folded bacon fat. I'm in the water in some dangerous tropical place. I'm with a scruffy man trying to rondezvous with some other people. I'm both watching and in the scene, scrambling up greasy and seaweedy rocks. The sky is beautiful and the water is kind of gross. I'm Hollywood looking for a minute.
I'm in my house, preparing the results of the photoshoot. I take the bag with the bacon negatives and go into the bathroom, which doesn't have a working light anyway. I'm horrifed to realize I hadn't stored the negatives properly and the bacon has cooked a little. I have to pour off melted fat. The photos are all folded up and tangled with gloves and my silk scarf with the leaf pattern on it. I finally disentangle my pictures. I'm disappointed. Most are fuzzy and faint. But the last batch, on glossy paper, is great. Long wiggly tentacles and finally the face of the squid with a huge brown human eye.
I'm back at school or in the city, on a big stage. I'm presenting what I know about the squid. I give my introduction and then realize my partner, a very small retarded boy named David, isn't with me. I go down to the front row and help him negotiate the steep detachable staircase to the stage. I finally just scoop him up in my arms. By the time I get to the microphone, though, a construction crew has set up and torn up the front of the stage to build a road. I'm miffed, but there are fancy and intelligent people, from college and beyond, all standing around to hear my report, see my pictures and invite me to parties.
I'm at a tiny foreign resort town or island. Somewhere obscure European. I go to an outdoor cafe and I've noticed an older dork man casting me glances. While I have a drink and ignore him, a very young guy with a Hitler mustache comes up and chats self-consciously. I get rid of him and as I'm leaving, the old guy introduces himself as Phil. I excuse myself. I'm going back to the hotel where I'm doing some important research. Will is there and we're on a working vacation.
As I leave the beer garden, I see Melvin. I shout out to him happily and we go back for a drink. He's brought a bunch of papers of mine he's marking up. My history paper for Fred Smoler is a disgrace, the points I make at the beginning are too vague. The paper is a faded xerox and my typing isn't clear but there are red, blue and purple colored markings in a large looping handwriting all over it. I'm a little ashamed but mostly excited about other projects that made me skimp on history. A philosophy paper and a biology project. I got to photograph a special kind of squid. I almost drop my big glass of beer in excitement.
I'm walking against the crowd in a busy city. Young people partying but I have a mission. To photograph the squid, I don't use photopaper but slabs o carefully folded bacon fat. I'm in the water in some dangerous tropical place. I'm with a scruffy man trying to rondezvous with some other people. I'm both watching and in the scene, scrambling up greasy and seaweedy rocks. The sky is beautiful and the water is kind of gross. I'm Hollywood looking for a minute.
I'm in my house, preparing the results of the photoshoot. I take the bag with the bacon negatives and go into the bathroom, which doesn't have a working light anyway. I'm horrifed to realize I hadn't stored the negatives properly and the bacon has cooked a little. I have to pour off melted fat. The photos are all folded up and tangled with gloves and my silk scarf with the leaf pattern on it. I finally disentangle my pictures. I'm disappointed. Most are fuzzy and faint. But the last batch, on glossy paper, is great. Long wiggly tentacles and finally the face of the squid with a huge brown human eye.
I'm back at school or in the city, on a big stage. I'm presenting what I know about the squid. I give my introduction and then realize my partner, a very small retarded boy named David, isn't with me. I go down to the front row and help him negotiate the steep detachable staircase to the stage. I finally just scoop him up in my arms. By the time I get to the microphone, though, a construction crew has set up and torn up the front of the stage to build a road. I'm miffed, but there are fancy and intelligent people, from college and beyond, all standing around to hear my report, see my pictures and invite me to parties.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Broken Light; Pajamas; In the Desert
3/24/10
The dream is divided between a crowded bunkhouse/dorm and some stark commercial desert.
In the bunkhouse, I have a cute boy snuggled in bed with me and we're trying to turn off the light. The switch isn't working. We fiddle with it, I break it a little. I'm annoyed. I turn the alarm off.
My mother is looking for her pajamas. The company she ordered them from sent her the wrong kind at first but then they sent her a pair even better than what she'd ordered, dark purple with long sleeves.
In the desert, I'm watching/in a movie. A darkly handsome man is playing both sides of a mineral or oil deal. Some fabulous resource. Or is he working for the government? Walking along a path of dirty sand surrounded by murky water of an oasis.
The dream is divided between a crowded bunkhouse/dorm and some stark commercial desert.
In the bunkhouse, I have a cute boy snuggled in bed with me and we're trying to turn off the light. The switch isn't working. We fiddle with it, I break it a little. I'm annoyed. I turn the alarm off.
My mother is looking for her pajamas. The company she ordered them from sent her the wrong kind at first but then they sent her a pair even better than what she'd ordered, dark purple with long sleeves.
In the desert, I'm watching/in a movie. A darkly handsome man is playing both sides of a mineral or oil deal. Some fabulous resource. Or is he working for the government? Walking along a path of dirty sand surrounded by murky water of an oasis.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Science Museum; SoapCheese; Ring Cycle Physics; Monster
3/22/10
Science museum. Going out in a neighborhood in the south, I think Georgia, and getting lost. There's a path uphill that I think leads to my neighborhood but instead it leads to a "science museum". The entrance is a very dark room full of insects. I go in, thinking, this is slightly too many insects even for a science museum. They're landing on my face and hair and it does not feel good but I can't really crush them since they're part of the museum. I'm trying not to freak out or be rude. I have to coax a tarantula off my gray tweed purse with a piece of cardboard. I'm talking to my old middle school friend Liz on the phone.
At the end of the museum there's a room with a baby seal. He has a human face but very soft featured. His flippers are adorable. He's rounded and pink and white. He looks like mochi. I really want to hug and play with him but I have places to be. The baby seal tries to coax me to stay, in almost a menacing way. He's got a salmon for us to eat that he caught himself. He shows me where he punched the fish and gave it a black eye.
Later, in a different part of the museum, a circle of us sit around. Some professorial type is trying to demonstrate a principal of science or magic by handing out hard, cheap bars of soap. If we knead them in our hands enough, they'll burst into flame. Instead, mine turns into something that looks and feels exactly like brie, but it burns my hand.
The professor has to leave and we need to do Ring Cycle Physics, like, physics based on the opera. A guy shows up and we realize he's a villain. Maybe a monster? A vampire? We throw logs at him and then we hit his bike with a shovel to injure him. We phone for help. I put on my gray skirt with the silver ribbon and run through the haunted museum for help.
This was a menacing but pretty funny dream. I would have felt so socially awkward when I was fighting off bugs. In the dream, I remembered my old dream about going into the house full of huge neon bugs and having my toad. This isn't like that, though, I thought in the dream.
The seal with a human face was new. In the dream it was cute but now that I remember it, it's creepy as hell. It was like an adult man's face, puffy and pink and creepy.
Science museum. Going out in a neighborhood in the south, I think Georgia, and getting lost. There's a path uphill that I think leads to my neighborhood but instead it leads to a "science museum". The entrance is a very dark room full of insects. I go in, thinking, this is slightly too many insects even for a science museum. They're landing on my face and hair and it does not feel good but I can't really crush them since they're part of the museum. I'm trying not to freak out or be rude. I have to coax a tarantula off my gray tweed purse with a piece of cardboard. I'm talking to my old middle school friend Liz on the phone.
At the end of the museum there's a room with a baby seal. He has a human face but very soft featured. His flippers are adorable. He's rounded and pink and white. He looks like mochi. I really want to hug and play with him but I have places to be. The baby seal tries to coax me to stay, in almost a menacing way. He's got a salmon for us to eat that he caught himself. He shows me where he punched the fish and gave it a black eye.
Later, in a different part of the museum, a circle of us sit around. Some professorial type is trying to demonstrate a principal of science or magic by handing out hard, cheap bars of soap. If we knead them in our hands enough, they'll burst into flame. Instead, mine turns into something that looks and feels exactly like brie, but it burns my hand.
The professor has to leave and we need to do Ring Cycle Physics, like, physics based on the opera. A guy shows up and we realize he's a villain. Maybe a monster? A vampire? We throw logs at him and then we hit his bike with a shovel to injure him. We phone for help. I put on my gray skirt with the silver ribbon and run through the haunted museum for help.
This was a menacing but pretty funny dream. I would have felt so socially awkward when I was fighting off bugs. In the dream, I remembered my old dream about going into the house full of huge neon bugs and having my toad. This isn't like that, though, I thought in the dream.
The seal with a human face was new. In the dream it was cute but now that I remember it, it's creepy as hell. It was like an adult man's face, puffy and pink and creepy.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Bracelet; Shark Hat; Elevator; Robot Van Helsing; Paintings of Stories
E and L are house sitting for someone and watching a sci fi show. One woman in the show gives another an elaborate metal bracelet. It turns her arm into a beautiful multipetaled piece of metal--or like a metal squid coming out of her shoulder. It divides into flaps of metal and twists and recombines. But it's a trick and it gradually starts to hurt so much that the wearer has to kill herself. We eat candy and E & L talk about loving the big house.
I'm looking for something in a huge new condo building. It's occupied but still under construction. It's impossible to tell if I'm in a public corridor or someone's apartment. Everything is gleaming wood, metal, plush carpets and furniture. There's a common room where a group of preppy, hip young men, mostly black and a white kid with a hat made of foam cut outs of letters that spell out his name and are in the shape of a shark. He says that his name is really British: Earnest Jordan.
I get into the elevator to escape, feeling awkward and annoyed. The elevator is terrible. The floor is made of some thin plastic, almost like a trash bag. There's fiberglass in the walls that pricks at me. I can see through windows or chinks out the side of the elevator. It's going up and changing course. I yell in protest and a bearded guy who's on the landing above me laughs commiseratingly.
I'm a group trying to solve its problems. Most people are worried about being too fat. I split away and hang out with Ira Glass. He laughs at me for saying I don't need a group. I say I need one for being clumsy. We're in the park, almost at night and we climb over rocks to get to his place. My feet claw up bunches of plants, like loose vines but also plastic bags full of mushrooms and broccoli.
Back at his place there's a kind of play room outside closed with a curtain. We sit outside and along come two little boys who put up a special kind of door curtain so they can go in. Ira and I look at each other and laugh. The boys aren't supposed to be there. We go in after them. I catch one of them and he sits in my lap. I tell him I'm going to call him Robot Van Helsing. He gives me a skeptical look.
I'm looking at a painting or book of illustrations of the civil war. It's in childish, vivid watercolors, lots of blood and people's faces.
I'm reading a novelization of The Royal Tannenbaum's. I can see the scenes of the movie acting out, somewhat distorted, and then look down at the pages and see the words describing it simultaneously.
There's a movie/painting of two sisters in the Wiemar republic who fall in love with each other and try to get married. It's in vivid watercolors as well, really purple and red with a lot of emphasis on mouths and teeth. I can really remember one moment where a woman's head is tilted way back when they're in a taxi, and her lips are pulled back so her teeth and tongue are visible.
This was a huge dream, incredibly detailed, that just seemed to go on and on. Very active and fun, with lots of humor, which is kind of unusual. I still crack up thinking of that kid's face when I called him Robot Van Helsing.
Looking at this description, the first part reminds of something I had trouble imagining, the "orchid" weapon in Dahlgren. There's something about being lost in a beautiful but delapidated building that also recalls Dahlgren. The really narrative quality of the last couple of snippets is unusual. I wonder what's up with that? Too much reading/watching movies? The movies I've been watching lately have all been well-made serial killer thrillers. Huh.
I'm looking for something in a huge new condo building. It's occupied but still under construction. It's impossible to tell if I'm in a public corridor or someone's apartment. Everything is gleaming wood, metal, plush carpets and furniture. There's a common room where a group of preppy, hip young men, mostly black and a white kid with a hat made of foam cut outs of letters that spell out his name and are in the shape of a shark. He says that his name is really British: Earnest Jordan.
I get into the elevator to escape, feeling awkward and annoyed. The elevator is terrible. The floor is made of some thin plastic, almost like a trash bag. There's fiberglass in the walls that pricks at me. I can see through windows or chinks out the side of the elevator. It's going up and changing course. I yell in protest and a bearded guy who's on the landing above me laughs commiseratingly.
I'm a group trying to solve its problems. Most people are worried about being too fat. I split away and hang out with Ira Glass. He laughs at me for saying I don't need a group. I say I need one for being clumsy. We're in the park, almost at night and we climb over rocks to get to his place. My feet claw up bunches of plants, like loose vines but also plastic bags full of mushrooms and broccoli.
Back at his place there's a kind of play room outside closed with a curtain. We sit outside and along come two little boys who put up a special kind of door curtain so they can go in. Ira and I look at each other and laugh. The boys aren't supposed to be there. We go in after them. I catch one of them and he sits in my lap. I tell him I'm going to call him Robot Van Helsing. He gives me a skeptical look.
I'm looking at a painting or book of illustrations of the civil war. It's in childish, vivid watercolors, lots of blood and people's faces.
I'm reading a novelization of The Royal Tannenbaum's. I can see the scenes of the movie acting out, somewhat distorted, and then look down at the pages and see the words describing it simultaneously.
There's a movie/painting of two sisters in the Wiemar republic who fall in love with each other and try to get married. It's in vivid watercolors as well, really purple and red with a lot of emphasis on mouths and teeth. I can really remember one moment where a woman's head is tilted way back when they're in a taxi, and her lips are pulled back so her teeth and tongue are visible.
This was a huge dream, incredibly detailed, that just seemed to go on and on. Very active and fun, with lots of humor, which is kind of unusual. I still crack up thinking of that kid's face when I called him Robot Van Helsing.
Looking at this description, the first part reminds of something I had trouble imagining, the "orchid" weapon in Dahlgren. There's something about being lost in a beautiful but delapidated building that also recalls Dahlgren. The really narrative quality of the last couple of snippets is unusual. I wonder what's up with that? Too much reading/watching movies? The movies I've been watching lately have all been well-made serial killer thrillers. Huh.
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