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U n my dream I was sitting with someone (female unknown), then I realized that something’s on my back and I saw snake crawling under my shirt . I stand up asap and trying to remove that snake from my back . Suddenly (senerio change) I’m running with someone ( same female unknown) and I find myself going unconscious so I searched that that snake haven’t bite me or not. What I found that 4-5 bite on my feet each with 2 hole then I ran to take antidote of spent. (And senerio change now I’m at help centre) doctor asked what happened. I said I was bitten by snake. he asked which snake . I said cobra. Then suddenly he tries to gave me injection. I resist and asked what’s that. He said antidote . Then he gave it to me. And at the same time I woke up.
What’s all this means
Dreamt last night that I was taking a walk and I came across a homeless man who proceeded to chase me. When I thought I was finally out of his reach I stopped running, but when I turned around he was right behind me. He grabbed me by the shoulders and as his face was coming closer to my neck to bite me, I noticed he was toothless. This dream makes absolutely NO SENSE to me.
…….my dream is for everyone to be ethnically blind when it comes to aesthetics of mankind, thus creating beauty in all people with acceptance of love and respect….woW
i dreamt that computers ceased to be and human beings began to LIVE!…..
I flew out of airplane and holding on to dear life on a rope ladder
My mom dream that they were in a hilltop at a church and there was a whole bunch of shoulders soldiers that come by and they were walking and some handguns and some not had knives in a tanks were there and she dream her and her husband were walking across the creek I’m running for them and there was a lot of people dead in the water what does it mean and people were looking up in the sky because they were airplanes
while husband is giving speachs on trip I am stuck on fence, high rise ledge/rock in rushing water
I’m in a hospital gown running through a creek in a forest being chased by a whole bunch of people and having bullets whiz by me……I continue to have the same dream over and over again. what does it mean?
I’m somewhere where people live outside and sometimes inside enormous tree trunks. There are great concerts and the musicians all pass past one particular residence to go backstage (at least a block away). They are all men, and as they pass, I call out encouragement and praise them for a great show, noticing they are old and tired and could not give a flying crap. I am ignored as they continue to wearily trod past and quietly joke amongst themselves. The man who lives at the massive tree where I am standing seems to be a friend, and leads me past his rather obnoxious pet monkey. The monkey is poorly behaved yet obeys the order to retreat back into the wooded area near the trunk opening. I see a shadow-statue of the monkey etched into the dirt, it’s probably 18 ft in size, and is a purely a silhouette. Gingerly stepping over it somehow, I notice the profile position and that the monkey’s long fingers are shooting a bird, which is as amusing in my dream as in recollection.
The scene shifts and now I’m with my husband (or my ex-h, I can’t tell as they often blend together in my dream world when husbands appear, strangely enough. I still love my ex-h very much, by the way). I’m newly pregnant and it’s the first baby for us. We are settled into a bedroom somewhere, and trying to watch a TV that is on an old stand with wheels and too low for me to comfortably watch. I’m nestled in his arms and tell him in our next place, I would like a new TV stand that actually works. He goes on alert and asks me if I’m in labor, excitedly and happily asking if the baby is coming now. I know that it’s way too soon, but consider lying to him anyway. At this moment, our attention is caught by a geisha floating quickly by the doorframe. She gracefully glides to the left, right into the bathroom I know is there. My husband calls out to her aggressively but I know he’s as terrified as I am, since we were the only people home and this geisha was booking it way too fast to walk and way too graceful to run or move her legs at all. Her dress trails behind her. We both know she is a spirit, not alive, and it freaks us the fuck out. But very quickly I calm down and become fascinated and unafraid, wanting to explore and investigate. Still, my heart is pounding. I often hear music in my dreams, almost like loud background or scene-focused music common in movies. When the geisha appeared, “Don’t Speak” by No Doubt began to play loudly, and then I woke up to a sore throat.
I dreamt that there was a viral video going around with Keanu Reeves who was ridiculously drunk trying to do cocaine, but failing to do so as a person who tries to drink from a straw, but the straw in the glass moves and their lips just miss it. He kept trying to bring the powder to his nose but totally missing his whole face. The video ends with him basically scooping a pile of it up with his hand and smacking himself in the face with white powder and finally standing up out of the bed and says something like “yeah dude”. As I woke up, I didn’t know if this was a dream or actually the new funny viral video
His eyes were closed to the entrance of the world
Dreamt of ants on a popcorn in a bowl
Spaghetti growing out of my chest like chest hair.
Last night I dreamed I was running through a series of dark underground tunnels, caves, and cellars, like a labryth I’m running, and running. My friend and her brother have told me that at these depths, way down here in the dark, there are rainbow unicorns that will kill you. At first this idea gives me desperate fear and sadness, even rainbow unicorns kill you down here? Then I begin to doubt that it’s true. No way I’m telling myself, not rainbow unicorns. And so I start singing to make a protective field around me and I’m singing “rainbow unicorn, I don’t believe that you mean me any harm, I don’t believe that you intend me any harm….” And as I’m running I come to an area that seems to be a corridor behind the walls of an office building. There’s a little more light in here, and then I realize that there’s a false wall, which from my side appears as a door. I can hear the muffled sounds of two men’s voices and I understand that they are going to open the wall. I think, “Oh good they’re going to rescue me.” But as their voices get louder I get more and more uncomfortable, until I’m scared that I have no idea what will happen when they open the wall, maybe they’ll hurt me, so I start searching for weapons. I find a mop in a janitors bucket and something like a rock. I hold one in each hand and when they open the wall I run out swinging so fucking fast I’m just flying galloping past them and I hear them saying, “Ehh, that rainbow unicorn doesn’t seem too dangerous, we’ll just let her go.” And I’m running into the topside world and its brightly lit and shiny like a huge office building, and I come to understand that this is a very repressive society. All the people here are artificial like Stepford-Wives and something wild like me won’t be allowed, I’ll be suppressed, but somehow I have to get to safety, there must be somewhere that’s safe, maybe beyond the manicured plazas of this downtown? I’m running and I see a series of desks with a series of blonde women with white doctors masks over their mouths. I run to each one and I pull the mask from her face and peer deeply into her face and say “You’re a real woman, you have to help me.” And by the third woman I do this with, as she turns her enormous blue eyes up to me, I realize that they’re all the same woman, blank faced staring up at me. The dream ends.
dreamed that my white car was painted robins egg blue
I dreamed I was talking to someone I”m angry with and don’t trust. We’re having an argument, inside a glass room. He’s got strange goggles on that show a digital video image of his eyes, instead of me just seeing his actual eyes. Suddenly as he talks, the eyes and skin begin to turn green and reptilian. “You have the eyes of a lizard” I’m telling him, angrily, and I realize that this is the sign that I have to get away.
I dreamed that Milli Vanilli’s main hit song was a “cover” of a Rumi poem.
I dreamt that my bedroom were filled with red muddy water, nd my blankets were wet, i tried to take one blanket to wring out the water, the water was calm, nd there was a pastor there just finish preaching,but our feet were not wet nd we were standing in the water
Since college, I’ve had this recurring dream where I’m sitting on a beach in the town where I grew up. It’s night-time, and the sky is that weird orangey-purple color from the streetlights. The waves are massive, the size of a house, but they never flood the shore. There’s no fear or sense of danger. I’m usually just hanging out with my family, chatting as if there were no tidal waves next to us.
A fish mother (half woman half fish) laying eggs that fertilize the undersides of the mangroves. Her spawn come up as large flat flounder/sting ray-esque fishes with even smaller baby fishes pinned in front of their ears like little girl’s barettes.
I enter the house she’s there on the couch her tiny baby body healthy and strong I scoop her up and run through the house yelling Audrey’s not dead she’s not dead she’s right here I have her I have her.
I give her a bath in our sterling silver sink, put on her favorite pajamas, lay her back down and go outside to yell some more. She’s alive. She’s not dead.
Only to turn around to see the house burning to the ground.
Grief. Is a son of a bitch.
Paso Robles, California
I dreamed about black baby dolls on their knees with their faces buried in the dirt
I drove off a cliff and floated in the air.
I’m suspended in a void with no ceiling, floor or walls. Myself and the geometric shapes that float around me are either black or white and there are no shades in between or other colours. Most things are white and it bothers me that there isn’t more black. Objects change colour from white to black but now there’s too much black, so I want more white. Each time that there’s not enough of one colour it ends up with there being too much of that colour and I can never get that harmonious balance that I want. Everytime the colours switch too far I feel that whatever powerful force it is that switches the colours is mocking my desire to have more of one colour by deliberately giving too much. Each time I get increasingly anxious and frustrated causing individual hands and feet to swell up massively and everything starts swirling about disorientatingly in a numbing haze. I never achieve that harmonious balance that I’m seeking.
I dreamed I was sitting with Leonard Cohen and he held a small bar of light similar to a bar of soap, but it was made of pure light. As we talked he cut pieces of the light off and stirred them into his black coffee where they dissolved. It was a very visual dream that I thought was really symbolic.
Katarina Rose – artist from the U.K
There was a room where he and I would stay, dorm rooms kind of. There was a room a room where we could stay. We were there. But then he was not. I called him, bad reception. He was at a place next to the theater he said, down at the end of the pier. I walked up and down and did not see the place, kept calling. The place’a name started with a J. I thought maybe there was no sign. He was back, in an altered state – drynk. He said he had to get that way sometimes (because of the pressure?) But he wasore in the mood for sex alrhough his genitals looked very red, almost purple. Still, he could get hard. There was a barrier in the room, a kind of fence thst was dilapidated, like in the garden. I broke through it and down a few carpeted steps. Because there were children there I needed to be quiet. But most of te children (many – maybe 12 or 15) were in lines organized by women with clipboards. I did not envy the children but let it be and saw that there were only a few children who were amuck and those I told they had to go back to their rooms upstairs and settle down. I went back upstairs. He was in a room in a room at the front end of the hall with a small dark haired precise woman; the organizer of the event. There was a couch (yellow) and a glass coffee table. I began talking to them about (maybe?) or something and then I realized he was going to sleep in this woman’s room – the couch was a pull-out couch and the coffee table was being moved aside. I protested saying that I would not let him sleep there. They didn’t even say it was just sleep and I knew I had already aroused him earlier and I thought it was very unfair and protested loudly. I demanded to know where he had been. It started with a J. The woman and he calmly unfolded the bed and put 2 sheets of plate glass on it, one on each side with somethi g in the middle to join them. I was surprised they knew so precisely how to do this. They were very calm. I threatened to blow the whole place up if he did not come back with me to sleep. I just had a single cot/bed. It was very disturbing. The woman had a name I cannot remember. Not one of my dissociative names or my childrens. Maybe someone higher. It was slightly exotic but I can’t remember it now. I’m saying Angelique but I don’t think that is it. I woke up still threatening to blow everthi g up.
“An abandoned metropolis. I’m standing in a tall building overlooking the city. There’s rubble on the floor. Large broken windows. Through them a view of a concrete expanse, slowly reclaimed by nature. A planet returning home in patches of rolling green hills and buildings wrapped in vines. Trees emerging from asphalt. In the far distance, the dark ocean coruscates in the night. It is more beautiful than it was before the disaster. All of it. I’m cleaning guns. Preparing for battle. I don’t know who the enemy is. Whether or not we have begun fighting is unclear. I’m there with a man. He tells me something. He’s telling me about the enemy. I turn toward the window and see that the middle of the city has become dark. Then suddenly I’m in it, far from the skyscraper, in the darkness. The weapons are gone — what a relief. I am not a soldier. Never was. A scavenger perhaps. A vagabond living off the land. And there she is, standing with dark hair and crystal blue eyes. The crow’s ghost. We drift together. Across streets and alleyways, through windy winters in warehouses derelict and dying, through fat tobacco slums and hot fern beds growing in the summer. Season after season we wander. Searchers for an unknown answer. Fallen angels in a mad world… sitting on a rooftop watching the wind bend the grasses flat, then up again.”
I was at my parents’ house in Florida. My old colleague and I were in my childhood bedroom. It was unnaturally bright and sunny and my old colleague was lying in my bed and he was partially beneath the covers, wearing a t-shirt, and fiddling with his phone. I, on the other hand, was standing at a respectful distance beside the bed. We were talking about the crappy WiFi at my folks’ house. At some point, he got frustrated to which, I responded with the suggestion that he take a nap. I shut the door then joined my parents in the den. Shortly afterwards, my former colleague steps out with his shirt rolled up revealing his torso (because a shirt can ride up your torso in your sleep sometimes). I was absolutely mortified because my parents were there and strangely somehow there’s this understanding that they didn’t know he was even in the house. Surprisingly, they didn’t seem as shocked as I was. I don’t remember what else happened.
This could have easily been a sexy dream but, for some reason it turned out to be just really awkward or even stymied. It should also be noted that this man is someone I have a crush on. I like to tell people that this is a dream induced by consuming copious amounts of raw milk cheese before bed. But, that is a rather dubious claim.
I was coming to see you to get some of the same deliciousness that you gifted on the day after the solstice. You and your children met me at the end of a country road. The land was very lush, and the light was beautiful and golden – you had jewels woven in your hair, and your energy was very serene and happy. You carried a big glass jar that you kept the medicine in, and you had added a drop of pure attar of roses to it – the combined smells were heavenly! I rarely remember being able to smell is dreams, but this was AMAZING!
I remember your son and daughter had bunches of basil (it was late summer/autumn and the basil was going to seed) in their hands which they had picked for me. Your daughter was maybe 8 years old, and had very pale skin, with the tiniest little freckles across her nose. I got the sense that she was blind, because she was staring into the sun. I could smell the basil too, and the whole dream was extremely vivid. It was a good one.
September 5th (?), 2006
I’m a Roma peasant girl, caught up in some imbroglio, a spy game or plot to overthrow a hegemonic regime. The revolution has begun in a chaotic swirl that mimics a Brueghel painting of ham-handed clumsiness and absurdity. As the courtiers, guards and bystanders try to catch me, a raw slip of a girl they enact the tale of the golden goose- greed preventing them from gaining their quarry.
I find and opening in a flash under the door and kick my violin case under before me- I am clutched and blocked by fat limbs and blows but manage to hurl myself forward, through and out! into nothingness- pure open space as the frame freezes in the arctic air. I have slid myself and my most treasured possession out and off the slippery ledge of an iceberg or enormous ship made of ice. I plummet into the black and frigid water and am dredged up minutes later holding a teacup or cordial glass which has somehow not spilled a drop of its precious contents- some life-saving, warmth- bestowing liqueur. I drink it, but my mission is lost, my violin gone forever into the icy depths- and I am captured by the Other Princess.
She laughs at all this sport and kicks my ribs, rolls me over and makes me drink. She tells me that I am to be “re-educated” and introduces me to my tutor, a tall thin stringy man with a gleeful look in his eye that tells me he has a penchant for torture.
I groan and spit at her, calling her “an imperious little bitch!”. She laughs again then and tells me the game is over, that now I belong to her.
Petra Haden Armenia
Shirley and Spinoza
Chris Lane is working behind the counter, a concierge desk of an elegant hotel or guesthouse. White light filtering in, a pot of white orchids. I hesitate on seeing him for the first time in so long, not knowing what his response will be. We stand there and look at each other for a long, long time before he lets me give him hug.
I stand there holding him, feeling his back shaking while Colin inspects the plants in the hallway/conservatory, present and solid and respectful.
We arrange to go back to New York for another quick visit. It rains and rains and I neglected to buy a cheap animated umbrella from the haute future/bladerunner punjabi taxi stand. Damn. I walk to a cafe for food and coffee, but the rain threatens their shoddy patio’s tin roof. Inside too, the rain pounds on the roof- flooding seems imminent. Outside on the street a double-decker tour bus roars by- all of the passengers are wearing enormous Vegas showgirl feather headdresses, peacock and neon that leave tracers in their wake, dusting the air with streaks of colors, excited hoots of tourists. I walk up to where it parks near the curb. The feathered tourists are on some church or corporate field trip. They all have swastikas hastily greasepainted on their foreheads in oily black smears. When I ask why one girl tells me that “They just wanted to look as outlandish and evil as possible.” My father and grandfather have joined the tour, now processing and parading in black and white zoot suits and hepcat choreography down the sidewalk with canes tapping, my father leading (he walks with a cane now?).
My grandfather in a motorized green wheelchair in the middle. They are going to check out all their favorite old haunts. My boss stands near the bus, two treefrogs hiding under a green leaf each are riding up her leg, two banana slugs do the same on the other one. The frogs ditch their hidey-leaves and grow sundew like spiny poison droplet appendages on their throats which must have some numbing quality because she doesn’t even feel it or notice that the are burrowing deep into her flesh. I think to myself that I didn’t even bring proper ensembles to wear out and must borrow something from Brenda, who helps me out with miniskirts and lipstick.
I think, we can go to Lit tonight.
I am in a highschool. It is the last day of school, and the halls are filled with chaotic swarms of antsy, wild students ready to break free for the summertime. I am alone, not one of them, and far more interested in creeping up to the 12th floor which is still quarantined off after housing Katrina refugees for a year. It is dark with prison like windows and long sofas banked up against each other. A school play is being orchestrated- teenage girls dresses as Napoleonic soldiers in red coats and tricornes abound.
At the railroad tracks, through the crowd I see Sierra and Josh- both covered in fading but still brutal bruises from their recent run-ins. Every inch of Sierra is brown and purple and I start crying when she tells me in her matter-of-fact way about what happened, about the guys that did it, about the gun in her face.
A Halloween party, girls making out. Blue Herons on the water, a boy doesn’t know what they are, calls them autoharps. The horrible sound of their mating. A fancy manor, a film we make, the lady butler brings us eggs and beans and tea.
Moving in the rain, a mannequin in the front seat. Art supplies.
I am at a nice rest. w/ Colin. I tell him that I can call Bill Gates immediately and make animal noises- I reach him but he hangs up quickly. I am embarrassed so I make badger sniffing sounds anyway- feigning being on the phone still. Of course Colin sees through this weak ruse. I think I lost a bet.
New jewelry designs, bangles and dangles from
earlobes and hanks of thick twisted locks
The movie’s on too loud for the Asian landlady
at night, turn the sound down and grab the doll
off the top of the television set, a little korean boy
in baby blue pajamas, his face wide and blinking-
he wants out of his plastic box, he is alive actually.
Courtneymouse is living in the old Esplanade mansion-
It’s for sale at a much cheaper price, painted brick red on the outside
a deep rich color
she shows me around my old apartment,
scrubbing the floor with dutch boy, the rat shit,
the air thick with dust, memories..
the plaster bears a warming- slathered on too thick
aching to fall on our heads-
all the windows blown out by the storm
the balconies overlook a fairytale parade
I become a part of perched on a float or dais
(always dreaming of missing the parade, the ceremony!)
As we walk back I tell him not to worry about that
willow thin boy, bending like the tall grasses in the field
The mansion becomes a manor, a museum in the forest
flanked by Hieronymous Boschian dollhouse style guesthouses
looming fantastical but also somehow miniature
I think Myrtle painted them..
One is all made out of opulent cylinders,
the other more angular and pointed
and on either side two cottages that look
like ornate teapots- one lacquered black,
the other white
All of these encrusted in gingerbread and fanciful frippery
and filled with all manner of objets-
handmirrors, glass shoes, fur handbags etc.
Deeper in the woods she tells me, is
a house made entirely of porcelain.
And we haven’t even explored the main museum
with all the dead bodies when the German scientist
and his wife sitting on park benches tell us it’s time to go.
I didn’t figure much out about what I’m supposed to do now.
We go here and there
we wish and wander
and wonder why.
giant koi fish in out pond, we speculate on how old thet must be,
the pomegrantate tree, enormous passionflowers all over the ground
my goals are..
kazki, hong uighurs khushgar silk road
what was it like?
a different time
It’s Fall, maybe
well I saw it the leaves falling
green to gold
the air a sea change time
runnin out the perfect time
to feel it
I am at at rally where S. Palin is speaking
I am so angry afterwards, and approach her
to confront her regarding the absurdity of her claims.
She responds by pouring a glass of iced tea over my head
A friend of mine steps in to intervene and we wrestle
her to the ground shouting
“this person is not our choice for president!”
the crowd is hushed and still- no one seems to mind,
I think they are relieved. The woman is a beast.
Woman as beast.
I walk by a woman I think is a man
but she is not- she eyes me with th bluest coldest gaze
her face is wide, freckled broad pale ruddy skin
covered in freckles her hair is a huge mass of white blond curls
almost a frizz her stare is animal, hunting terrifying
she strips off her dress and takes off running
her body is gargantuan- muscled like a man’s or a bull
I think it must be a prosthetic suit, but she’s real- a beast woman
she leaps up into a train car, the engine
and attacks the engineer.
I hear horrible sounds, ripping gurgling screaming
flesh ripping being pulled and torn
she is throwing out bits of offal from the window
entrails guts intestines organs
and then the body of the man
moaning pleading burbling horribly still alive
disemboweled partially eaten
I think she does this to two men in there
I get into the train, now become a big rig truck
and I feel so uncomfortable
because I think she’s supposed to be my friend,
my best friend- but I am afraid of her, and I can’t
condone what she has done to these men
we have to drive, I have to go with her
and I just want to get away.
Monster man clown puppet
pulls a white string and you die.
He’s orchestrated such elaborate
forms of murder for his own amusement.
I see him kill a woman, and then a man
in quick succession so it loses all meaning.
It happens so quick, I don’t know if they even
realize it’s happening.
I am in an old model T
watching home movies of Marilyn Monroe
as a child, with her mother and sister.
I am curating an exhibit of strange findings
from personal collections- odd portraits,
bizarrely shaped rocks and vegetables
and the like- but one woman brings in
two decrepit refrigerators she found that
were filled with jam jars containing
abortions and miscarriages.
Dreams are like water..
Colourless and dangerous..
The Ghost Lovers
I could threaten to love you.
We are in the parlour, singing songs from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
(a non-existent, more traditional Broadway show version)
we gather hands, and enact the scenes- alienating Tamera and her male friend
who retreat to P.’s loft bed so he can give her a massage.
She seems shy, overwhelmed and tired.
She asks if she can come back and stay,
and I say yes, and when but she seems reticent so I..
Prepare for our metal-band debut, onstage- with flying trapeze
(and bunny-trapeze Shakespeare with I and Chesley as Romeo and Juliet)
I in white fur renaissance ballerina tutu and ruff and bunnyhead
on a bouncing plank.
The trapeze is installed in Sideshow, but it’s not- it’s a next-door/warehouse
version, dark and vaulted and dusty with antiques..
A man asks if he can have an old daguerrotype for free along with a mysterious packet and becomes unpleasant when I tell him no.
He asks me a bunch of nonsensical, rhetorical questions to which I balk.
Another bunch of customers is angry because they can’t smoke their cigars inside.
I am agitated at their trash talking and because it is closing time- the clocks all say eight o’clock (the real time it was while I was sleeping..)
Then a man and a middle-aged woman ask if they can see The Tarot of Prague-
because of the, ooh, the three legged fountain effigy? And the Dwarf Baby of Saint Sebastien? Saint Sava? I am intrigued by their talk and soon find myself drinking wine with them.. We talk about being from Austin, and make plans to know each other in the future. I run to the other shop to get something for them- a storm is coming, the sky is dark and windy, threatening to blow me away..
I run back to the shop, realizing that I’ve left them inside, but right outside on the porch is a display of pins and ephemera. I notice a silver locket engraved “flavia”
before i open it I am distracted by a pin mezuzzah with cyrillic writing and a girl’s name, maybe “simone”
I go back to the locket, knowing I must have it- and open it.
The sides open out into windows, and depict silvery windows of reflective paper, a girl joyously riding her bicycle, dancing, the windows are the white muslin draped windows of my mother, of my childhood. It is the most luminous, precious thing I have ever seen. It opens and opens with mirrors, and secret notes and messages and windows and windows and windows..
Aedh is there standing before me. I hug him tightly, feeling the wind blow coming storm smell around us. I can feel the soft hair on his arms. He pulls back wearing the dusty plastic clown mask. I can see his eyes shining through the cracked holes.
I gasp and he whispering, asks me if I remember what this means.. It’s this, he says pointing to the mask, which I do very well remember (Daniel and Michael)
This is one of the most real and lucid dreamings I can ever recall having.
He points to the locket and asks me again if I remember, and then he kisses me.
I know it is him, because the wiry bristles of his blond beard get in my mouth.
I laugh and laugh and start to run home, leaving the man and woman customers in the shop (locked in, or not properly closed) I run giddy, all the way home screaming in the coming storm, dancing on the balcony, drinking tea, looking at pictures on my camera, cleaning junior’s poop of the floor before I realize I’ve left the shop unlocked, with people inside. I keep trying to leave to get there, but am distracted each time. Junior and Simon keep trying to get out the door, down into the hallway- Junior is too slow, skinny and alive but with golden lights down his sides. Simon bounces crazy over the rococo antique stairwell. I scold him, trying to teach him no.
Elizabeth reminds me that we are to drink wine later and I hurry out the door.
A garage sale with starlight mint hurling bums distracts and disturbs me.
A giant harlequin doll has committed suicide or been otherwise divested of its garments which lay spread eaglled on the the sidewalk. Giant curly-toed shoes also upsetting me. (janine)
I am able to get inside the shop, remembering that my laundry is also inside.
A woman sits at a table in the dark, smoking and watching the street.
I explain to her that she will have to leave, and she complies- compulsively flicking cigarette ashes everywhere. She is opening a sewing machine shop, which I discuss with her before cleaning her ashes and shooing her out…
I wake myself in a blurry puddle of dream-goo.
mexican carnival on the way into town
parked in front of a forgotten neighborhood
we try to find the radio station,
playing conjunto, the light is silver
before or after the storm?
Sarafina + Pearl + Rusty
posing and cheerleader teasing
I am in the back of a taxi cab with a dark-skinned boy
and girl who have recently become parents.
They are taking their infant daughter home from the hospital,
and laughingly ask me if I’d like to hold her.
As the tiny bundle is turned away from breast
and into my arms I see that she is anencephalic
(Because anencephaly is not compatible with life,
medical termination of pregnancy is common.)
She was born with no brain.
Her skull a flat nothing, forehead ending right over
her bulging, rheumy eyes.
Her arms are too long and wiggly,
small paddle-shaped hands fiddling in my hair.
She gurgles and groans, but is an empty shell-
no spark of self-hood, of soul dwells within her.
She is a terrible error, a mistake,
a complete biological failure.
I think it would be better if they had killed her at birth.
Her mother and father, mere children themselves-
(and possibly siblings now that I look at them closely)
find their stunted monster-baby to be
the funniest thing they have ever seen.
I am so horrified that I make my mind transform
this wrong baby into clay that I mold into
a hello kitty geisha doll which I place on
a shelf with other dolls and trees made of eyes.
I wake up gagging, throat full of sand.
The sweet doctor who looked her over
she wrote him a lingering check, her signature an arabic scrawl,
a secret message
arabesques tattooed on a blushing cheek
walking away backwards, waving awkwardly, hopefully.
Toucans and emperor penguins fly around the house in mad circles
through the windows you see them swarming, swirling
as if the air has become water in which they swim.
A wedding gift unfinished, the red cloth for blood
and beeswax to sweeten and bind the old wood.
Was there something else?
New Orleans Dream:
We are riding high on the overpass
past burnt out buildings, highrises
and office complexes destroyed by fire,
explosions. I smell the lingering odor of jet-fuel and
realize that I am mixing up my disasters.
The airplanes flew into these skyscrapers,
immolating all the grey-suited workers and then
tidal waves of briny salt water rushed in to carry
them all out to see.
The gutted husks, blackened with soot and mold
gape at eye-level, a testament to the destruction
of business as usual.
Next thing I know I’m on the street-car,
bumping over the tracks and as I gaze down
(somehow out and over, extended through the window
my nose inches from the ground) the sunlight through the
slats makes chiascuouro stripes, black and gold.
In between the wooden slats and metal rails,
tiny bisque dollies are lined up.
Each one represents a victim of the terrible serial killer
that has been plaguing New Orleans neighborhoods.
There are so many. Black dolls, white dolls, boy dolls,
girl dolls, baby dolls, and granny dolls.
Indian dolls too.
I am crying doubled over, uncontrollably seized
by this inexorable loss- insult to injury, to murder
a community when it’s down. So many dolls,
each one lined up tenderly. Placed there by the
ones who loved them, who are left,
who may be next.
The old ladies on the streetcar tut-tut
and hand me hankies and shake their
gaudy prayer beads. They tell me:
“You know he sat in that very seat
where you are sitting right now.
Everyone says he’s very stupid,
but he’s not.
He is extremely intelligent.
That’s how he’s been able to kill
so many and not get caught.”
The serial killer is our president.
I get off at Cafe du Monde Trainstation
where the sympathetic ticket-seller lady
nods kindly at my teary face and give me an eclair.
I am now on my bicycle and need to get to this church
in a field where a party is happening but I’ve never been
there and I’m lost. I ask the neighbors for directions
and pull out a map, tracing imaginary itineraries
for routes I’ve never taken.
I’m always dreaming about bike routes in New Orleans
I never saw before. There are so vivid.
I wonder if they really exist.
A dusty procession
Carnivale-Madi Gras children’s parade
turns into the children’s crusade
Little Nemo-esue Winsor McKay imagery
A miniature general child (flip?)
leading the array, golden bicycles
strewn with beads, sequins, feathers and pearls.
It seems a bright spectacle, joyful but turns dangerous
through my camera lens pointed at the snipers in the
turning pear trees, in the hayloft and in the dovecote.
I follow the train to the back, and see the trucks covered in tarps
baleful and guarded eyes smeared in greasepaint,
panicked animals that were once mere infants
thirsty for vengeance.
A journalist with camera, and supporting their cause
still I am not welcome to inspect the tiny troops,
or peer into their hiding places.
The parade is an attack.
All adults will be slain.
Next a museum,
an apartment building built up against
a cliff honeycombed by roman catacombs
the sheer drop as in Petra, carvings and at the bottom
as I peer out the stone window a woman in venetian ballgown
absurdly wide panniers and towering hairdo.
Some of these pederasts in an Italian convertible are
condescending and catty, as I don’t belong in this pale bubble
where everyone has white-painted faces and dark staring eyes.
I paint my face, but my lips are bloodred.
In a spell of barfly camraderie, they turn
the color of old flypaper, I realize I am in poor
disguise in the realm of the dead, and if I persist
in drinking their wine it will not be long before
my life escapes my lips in a sticky trail of yellow ooze.
January 19th, 2005
I’m shopping in my abandoned shack for liquor bottles, pernod, chartreuese, whatever’s left. I fill the cart with neccesaries and head down Holly St. balancing my sword over the rim, cars speeding past me. I take a shortcut through a dim and sleekly elegant yakuza lounge where thick thugs and slim, savage chieftains gamble and flirt with furious geisha who totter after me and my rattling cart, tut-tutting. My sword’s cheap thai steel has become of the brightest damascus, polished like a mirror- a masterpiece transformed from pretty junk. But I’ve gone mad, and spit on the steps as I leave my dangerous shortcut hearing the painted women mutter like cherry branches in a violent storm. Eventually they trail me and take my cart and sword away and wrap me in soft blankets and take me to my room which is sky blue, sea blue, with robin’s egg blue glass windows through which I can spy a rippled beach. Oh what peace I find within.
And then I miss Mardi Gras because I can’t get down the stairs in my costume which sadly, isn’t all that different from what I wore last year and I miss the best part and everyone tells me how fantastic it was.
I dream about smoking “just one” which is sometimes divinely satisfying and sometimes horribly unpleasant and always I shake myself awake in a panic.
どんな左2005.I’m 1 月19 日、アルコール飲料のびんの私の断念されたshack 、chartreuese pernod で買物をする。私はneccesaries でカートを満たし、縁、私を過ぎて促進する車上の私の剣のバランスをとるヒイラギのSt. の下で先頭に立つ。私は厚い刺客私の後でよろめくおよびtut-tutting 私のがらがらと鳴るカート取る細く、野蛮なチーフテンが激烈な芸者と賭け、flirt ヤクザの薄暗く、なめらかに優雅なラウンジを通して近道を。私の剣の安いタイの鋼鉄は傑作がきれいながらくたから変形させたミラーのように最も明るいダマスカスの、磨いたなった。しかし私は塗られた女性は激しい嵐のチェリーの枝のようにつぶやくことを聞いている私が私の危ない近道を残すと同時に気違いに行き、ステップで吐く。結局それらは私を引きずり、私のカートおよび剣を取り、柔らかい毛布の包み、そしてスカイブルー、私が波立てられた浜を調査できるロビンの卵の青いガラス窓が付いている海の青、である私の部屋に連れて行く。どんな平和私がwithin.And をそして私見つけるかオハイオ州は私が時々神に満足し、時々恐ろしく不愉快私パニックで目がさめている自分自身をいかに揺するかかどれが素晴らしい常に”ちょうど1 つ” を煙らすことについてのwas.I の夢別の私が私逃す最もよい部分を逃し、去年身に着けていた皆は私に告げ、ものをと悲しげに、それすべてでない私の衣裳の階段の下で得ることができないので謝肉祭を。
We are at the Rhizome Collective, sussing out the back yard area
for the upcoming Disko party. I am happily surprised to discover that
the area has become quite beautiful since I last visited.
Lush green grass has grown where there was once just dirt,
and a large tree with huge twining roots provides shade.
A tea-party commences. Hazel and Mote are there, with Selah.
They have their hands full with the food for the party, so they ask
me to hold the baby- telling me, “she’s hungry, so she might want to nurse”
I laugh and tell them that she can try, but she’ll end up hungry
they kind of shrug, as if to say “you might as well try!”
The straps of my dress keep falling down as I take the tiny bundle
and before I can even get her situated comfortably in my arms
she has pulled the top of my dress down and has latched on to a nipple.
I am pretty surprised by this, but become even more so when she
actually seems to be inducing lactation, by sheer baby powers alone.
I am singing to her, just her name over and over “Selah, Selah”
Instantly, she seems to grow before my eyes, until she is about
four years old- a little girl that has Hazel’s hair, cut in bangs and braids.
It is then that I realize there are two little girls, somehow connected-
so I change my lullaby to include Selah and Djamila both.
Selah is a serious and curious child- she points to an image of a human skull
(an emblem on a ring, or carved somewhere?) and asks me what it is,
and what it means. I explain to her that each of us have one.
We touch each other’s faces, feeling the bones beneath the skin.
I explain that it is a symbol of our mortality, always with us from our
birth to our death and beyond. She seems satisfied with my answer
and our conversation continues down other avenues until I awaken.
I also dream about swinging high on a swingset and looking at the sky.
Ancestral land. Pitch black night. Slam shut the hatchback of the car, and then there is no light at all, save the dim stars. No moon. Only your breath and mine as we slam into the dust, grappling at each other’s clothes in the darkness. Your kiss remains vivid. The stubble at your strong jawline, your full lower lip – I take them in, grazing myself against you. Later we are in a bath, a green copper tub, a simple and memorable room. I am so at ease with you, and I don’t even know you.
Violet and I are standing in the front yard, gazing at the rosebushes. It hasn’t rained in a long time, and we are worried about the drought. I notice however, that thick patches of moss are growing here and there on the otherwise bare earth. There is something we want to do to fix the rosebush who looks less healthy. What happens next doesn’t entirely make sense, but in the dream it does: V. says “There’s something I can try, but it takes a lot of physical energy, so I have to do it really fast.” I say okay, go! She tells me to draw a circle where I want the power to be shifted. and she springs into action – leaping quickly to the circle of earth, and with a swift movement, and lifting the entire circle (about 3 feet in diameter) up from the earth. It’s a flat disc of earth that she moves to the ailing rosebush.
I am amazed at her magic.
Three water dreams:
The first: I am swimming in the Gulf of Mexico with Jay and friends. The water is murky, warm and creamy coffee colored. We are happy
to be swimming in it. Someone makes a remark about all the tarballs floating in the water, and how dirty it is. We say that there have always
been tarballs in the Gulf, even before the BP disaster. We are on some kind of raft or floatie, been pulled through the water by a friend. I lay
on my back and enjoy going fast, enjoy the warm water streaming over my face, my nose, my eyes. Even with clean water, I would not usually
be okay with this in my waking life. I wonder why it doesn’t bother me here.
Cleanness of water was questioned – but I disregarded, and proclaimed it fine. Submerged myself in it.
I am taking a bath in a concrete room – it’s very old, the bathing room of a murdered queen: Marie Antoinette or Empress Alexandra.
An amalgamation of both, somehow. The entire room is filled with water, instead of just a tub. You can swim in it. The water is dirty,
from the old concrete floors and walls, from whatever ancient system it is pumped from. I see a cockroach swimming and struggling in
the water and am horrified. I want to get it out of the water so it doesn’t crawl on me. When I get out of the bath later,
I realize I never unplugged the drain, and have to get back in, and go under the water (submerging myself willingly in dirty water again?)
to do it. The history of the bathing room is made known to me by a group of touring academics. Murals and collages on the wall,
and all her belongings arrayed like an antique store. I clutch a pressed glass purple vase until I see it is $77 dollars. I settle on an
$8 harmonica and am told I should just take it.
Cleanness of water was an issue – but I disregarded, once again submerged myself in it.
I am on a country road by a run-off creek. My friend suggests we go skinny-dipping, and proceeds to strip down and jump in. I watch her cavorting in the water, beautiful in the moonlight, and want so much to go in – but I hesitate. The water starts of as a shallow trickle, but gets deeper further in… Is the water clean enough? It seems like it could be filled with cattle ordure in this droughty season. I squint and wonder if there are snakes in the water – copperheads and water moccasins. We wonder if there are any backwoods sheriffs that might hassle us for trespassing or public indecency, or both – but then decide that any cop that would hassle two naked girls in a creek under the moon would have to be a pretty messed-up guy. Which isn’t really comforting, because plenty of them are. I stay on the bridge above the water, clothed, contemplating all of this.
Cleanness of water was questioned, I hesitated. Did not get in.
You, Le Mans: we work together at a clothing store
filled with oddements run and returned by a demented old bitch
but while we’re there we have our run of the place..
Your girl comes to pick you up – she suits you much better than the redhead,
with her husky voice and dark skin, black curls flying – and she’s tough.
We are high-fiving and friends when you drive me home, in the back of your
car you speed past her, like she should just walk back and wait and then
your turn around and we’re talking, your eyes boring holes into mine
and we’re grabbing things out of each other’s hands, and discussing our favorite talking heads songs, your blue ink, my dead cat, our perfect bedroom/kitchen/swimming pool. With naked nymphs in singing trapeze. You tell me you feel a deep spiritual connection to me. Words of danger if I ever heard them. You can’t stop touching me and I can’t keep my hands off your chest underneath your shirt, whatever’s drawn there still hidden. I say this is dangerous. You ask if you can come over. I tell you I have Russian class. You ask if you can come.
Priests, clerics dashing
a grand hotel (turned seminary?)
A little girl waits for him, a promised tea-date
sitting in her studebaker, dolls gathered round
baby bru et jumeau and precious bone china
tea service, filling cups with water
the car is filling up with water-
the hotel is flooding, the city is flooding again
She’s still thinking he’s coming, to tea
to save her- but the water is reaching her little
nose and knocking the full cups out of her hands
so she pushes her way out somehow.
The next time I see her is in Jackson Square-
waterlogged and trash strewn,
apocalyptic under an angry bruised sky.
She’s decked out in rain-gear,
a blue slicker and hat, banging a little metal trashcan lid
ferociously, scaring alley cats away, while looking for her own.
She finds him, but we need to get to a drugstore-
for some kind of medicine, for the cat and provisions.
I tumble off my bike near Beauty Plus,
and no one asks if I’m alright, which huffs me some
and I say so, to which the old man replies,
“we all gotta watch out for our ownselves, these days”
I tell him I disagree, that we need to help each other,
he shrugs and walks away.
The place is closed anyway,
so we ride through the quarter, looking for one that
might be open, dodging families and potted plants
until we realize we’ve overshot our mark-
the road turns into a zig-zagging maze of tiny train-tracks,
disintegrating into swamp.
Jana is delightedly pointing out the unusual flowers here,
and naming them. I have never seen any of their kind before,
but they are familiar, and their names fit.
Here at the marshy end of the line
is some sort of military facility.
We’re a ways off from it, but I can see
gun towers and guards moving back and forth.
Here are racks and racks of clothing,
mostly women’s vintage clothing
all sorts of exciting garments
aprons and beaded 20′s dresses.
Fancy mirrors and medicine cabinets lay in the tall grass.
Is this stuff here as, lure- bait for us to that terrible place?
Or were the women that they brought here forced to disrobe
in this field of strange flowers and brought to this prison
to be questioned, tortured, disappeared?
I rip a few things from the rack and run-
back through the woods, two roads
running parallel, one for vehicles
and one with puzzle piece shaped paving stones
tunneling through the trees, lined with
racks and more racks of clothes..
Sweaty, heart-racing running back to the car
unlock the doors and let’s get out of here.
Michael calls me, out of the blue. It’s been a long time, but I know his voice immediately. Without any …. he asks me, “if you could look into a magic mirror, and see yourself in 10 years, what would you see?” I told him that I would see the same face, maybe more wrinkled, with stronger laugh lines, crow’s feet, and smile lines- because I laugh and smile a lot. He said, “Good.” I don’t know if he was asking if I would still be alive, making sure that my reflection was there at all, or if he was asking me to project my vision of the future self. After I answer, he’s there. We’re comparing our long hair, he is as vain as ever- dancing, serpentine and thrusting.
He has a project he wants to interest me in- but while he talks we engage in a brutal embrace, an uncomfortable erotic twist. He becomes a demon that must be repeatedly blinded, his eyes turn black, grow huge, turn into sphincters, bleed. He screams, and becomes a small pink bat-like monster, before growing silvery and huge- a terrible luciferian prince. There is a ceremony, a sunny day. I try to film it, but people keep walking in front of my line of vision. I go in the train tunnel. It is comfortable, but ominous. Cooler, down there- respite from the bright day. Darby is at the mouth of the tunnel, calling in – her hair aflame, a beacon from another world.
On the flooded plain, now become a beach when the sea rose up to meet the treeline.. Wading through this still, mirror-like water- waveless and motionless until drops of it are flung into the air with abandon. Earlier (in waking life) I had been riding my bicycle through rain swept streets, the avenues turned to rivers- looking deceptively pure. This was the still water and the memory of a spray of water droplets hanging in space.
I know I have begun my journey, but don’t know where I am. I see a familiar face struggling in the water (with a fish?), and call to him- “Hey Mac Taylor- do you know where we are?”
“Corfu!” he shouts back.. Ah, so- the isle of Corfu..
I climb a blasted tree to get a better view.
There is a small shack still standing, where a redneck hears a noise coming from his bedroom. He shoots, and I laugh. I point out the error of his aim, shaming him smilingly.
I sit at the Moroccan table- a street-side restaurant. An Algerian boy with coffee skin and grey-mint eyes offers a seat near him, I drink from his tea glass.
But eventually I have to get back to the shooting gallery- changed from hill-billies with guns to a fashion shoot in the time where I was drinking raccia and making the walls echo with my raucous laughter. We needed to find some more models, and E. Sun is there wrapped in a padded fur, with her baby sister. She doesn’t seem to know me. I think she’s just here to talk to Oren, who also doesn’t see me. I am then called on to get my shit together and help out two Japanese models who seem to have become tangled together by their sporty space-age footwear. I untangle them and am left pretending I still have a reason to be fiddling around at the feet of one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen, who is suddenly now German. He says outrageously attractive things that apparently only I can hear. He seems to be everything I have ever wanted in some regards, and I tell him so. A lot of this has to do with his morbidly over-sized member, or so he confides in me. A glance upwards tells me he isn’t exaggerating, much. He asks me “Sprechen sie Deutsch?” und ich sagt, “Ja, ein bischen” but when he starts rambling, it all flies right out. Reiner stalks in saying, under his breath “Du traumst mich…” and the two of them rumble and argue as our silvery bubble breaks. Something about the sale of a bicycle. Something.
I am supposed to perform a strip tease for two awkward women – I have no space but the dressing room/waiting room, and I can’t get the other ladies to leave its comfort. They suggested I do a bellydance. All I can find is a corporate mermaid costume – an iridescent bustier, tan boxy blazer, and ugly shorts. They seem to think it’s fine.
I’m watching an informative film in a hospital.. I notice a weird maggot insect larvae
on the table. I can see it becoming suffused with blood – flushing with red. Did it
bit me and I didn’t notice? I am disgusted and walk away. I see Grampa sitting in
a chair. We decide to leave. He is driving me home. I know it’s strange, but he
seems to be able to do it. On the way, we pass a beautiful tall tree –
waving to us from the other side of IH35. It is covered in white blossoms. Oh, how beautiful it is.
Sound through the darkness, a bell of a boat, on the sea the sun is rising, minnows jumping out of the hood and kangaroo pocket of my swearshirt into the sea, a dock approaching, arriving I undress and float up into the fog.
My dreams often consist of people in my life, their time in my life may have been short or long but had some significant impact (and may continue to). Sometimes I’ll remember dreams over the course of a few days and them be a focus on particular people. Then something will happen, I’ll see them or talk to them or have an encounter on social media or I hear something about them. Sometimes I just feel their presence and I think I see them everywhere. It’s interesting how the mind rationalizes and even in dreams it derives my experience. Thank you for this project.
I wake up at home but it’s not home, and hear a rustle in the vent above. Something starts to fall, and I think ok. It will be a drip or a dusting. But it’s a deluge. Of stuffed animals come to life with rapacious eyes and claws. And I realize they’ve been up there so long. But I’m ok. But then from the closet come these kittens, so many kittens, all clones of my last living cat. How have they stayed alive in there? And I have to find the Real One, and how will I know? How can I be sure? I wake up panicked. She yawns in my face and blinks sleepily. Then we go about our day.
I’m on a plane and it’s crashing. I know it’s crashing. I feel every jarring move, even the wind in my hair. A potent mix of thrill and fear are stirring in my belly and spill out like electricity along my skin. The captain brings the plane under a bridge, and I can’t look. And then I wake up.
I’m hanging out with my friends & then I’m hanging with Victoria from the band Beach House at my friends apartment. She(Victoria) says “Do you want to be in our new video we’re going to shoot?” I say, “Sure.” We all, (me, my friend & Victoria) all hang out at my friends house. We are walking in a circle & I’m tapping my feet in a waltz-like rhythm. Boom-boom boom. Boom-boom boom. Tap-tap tap. And I say “Hey remember that song?” And she is like “Yes, of course. It has our beat in it.”
I dreamt I discovered variety in repetition only to wake up to music and realize it was the structures of rhythm. -NaKa
In the corner of an icu, watching nurses defibrillate my father, trying to ask doctors questions, looking down teeth falling out into big calloused palms, then slipping away further and further until falling wakes me…jellifly
I was naked, perched on the rim of a claw foot tub. My iItalian lover, Riccardo, was in the tub. There were two piles of raw hamburger meat on the rim of the tub. I was using a knife to separate the fat out from the meat. One pile of fat, one pile of meat.
I dream of standing in a forest clearing – my feet barefoot on warm dirt – there is no sound – but Iam bathed in an unearthly golden light – inside the light there is a soothing voice – I can’t make out the words – but I don’t care – I feel them – the words – the light – the dirt – all is well and as it’s suppose to be …
I have a recurrent dream where I am in a huge, busy public place, like an airport, and there is some kind of apocalyptic situation going on. Everyone is running, as am I, but I have a ton of stuff with me: suitcases, boxes, bags, and I’m trying to keep track of them all and carry them. One always breaks open and strange random stuff I don’t need comes tumbling out. I have to stop and pick it all up and try to get it back into the bag or box or suitcase. It never fits. People are yelling at me to hurry up – they aren’t waiting for me. But I HAVE to pick up that piece of paper that I’ve saved forever because it’s special. All my dreams end with me trying to find a bathroom, which is always out in the open, no door, no walls; or, it’s overflowing and I’m only wearing flip-flops….
I have a recurring dreams about grizzly bears. They are always kind of present almost in my periphery, within sight but not exactly up close and personal. It’s the threat of their potential violence and strength that is so scary. Not knowing what will set them off and always trying to tip toe around them. They don’t usually actually attack me in my dreams.
I dream that I will meet my life partner and build a live together and a solid foundation. That we will love, support and encourage each other always. I dream that I will be a mama and have a family with my life partner.. I dream that I will always be able to provide, help and love to children and everyone in my life. I dream that I will travel the world to see and meet people from different cultures. Cheesy and cliche, yes, but those are my dreams.
In the dream i was scanning the shoreline of a river. i am looking down and very close to the surface of the water. Quickly moving across it… gliding… focused on finding something but not something that i had lost. Something new i could have if i only paid close enough attention. It was like it was a job.
I think I was hawk.
I was walking into a movie theater with a group of friends. We were all carrying those giant popcorn buckets, but they were filled with bright pink chewing gum. We took our seats and during the trailers, a T-Rex burst through the screen. People were screaming and running. I stood up and began throwing handfuls of my gum into the dinosaur’s mouth. His mouth began to get stuck with all the sticky gum. I ran between the seats and rolled down the aisle, grabbing as many buckets of gum as I could and throwing it into his mouth. After a few minutes, he couldn’t open his mouth anymore. He was swinging his head to hard trying to dislodge the gum that he fell over and broke apart into a mechanic mess. Then everyone in the audience cheered for me.
I was meant to fight a demon to protect my village, but I was scared because I knew I would die. The demon was too big. I tried to stall by offering the demon some tea, he laughed and accepted. “I know you’re stalling.” he said. Then I tried to stall further by explaining I had forgotten my boxing gear. “That’s ok,” said the demon,”I brought extra.” He handed me boxing gloves and shoes, hot pink, they fit perfectly. I was so afraid. I knew I would die after one punch from this invincible creature. I frantically tried to stall further, but then my mind went still and calm. I heard a voice say, “I’m ready”, and it was only after I saw the demon’s look of surprise that I realized the voice was my own. “I’m ready.” I repeated.
I looked down at my hands, they were glowing gold.
I am always trying to get to a final resolution point, where I will ultimately solve whatever “dream problem” I have to solve, and I get closer and closer but must travel through strange places in my attempt to get there. The places are abandoned buildings, fancy hotels, airports, foreign cities, or schools. I am always accompanied by a friend or friends who have some particular insight into the location or the task at hand. A lot of the time it is a couple of friends, either working together or handing me off from friend to friend when their particular knowledge or expertise will be most helpful in the next stage of my travels. A lot of the time it’s my sister, and sometimes it’s my dad. I am usually under a time constraint and I am aware that I am not meeting the deadline. I never solve the problem, but it’s always interesting trying to get “there”. Plus, I never work harder or more urgently than I do in these dreams. It’s nice to think that on some plane I am the solution to a problem and I am working really hard to solve it.
I dreamt I was a coyote swimming alongside a woman in a pickle barrel in the sea. I saved her from drowning and then carried her to the top of a cliff and we both howled at the moon.
My leopard gecko was attempting to eat mealworms bigger than him. It didn’t work out.
I was on a flying elephant going so fast over a giant body of water. The elephant felt strong and sturdy, so I didn’t feel threatened at all. In my dream, I realized that if I fell I would certainly die, but I also felt so free and carefree. The elephant flew lower and dipped its feet in the water. Then, it sucked up a bunch of water in its snout and shot it back at me to keep me cool. We laughed together.
I was in the woods and a cool most swept in around the trees something told me to climb up so I did. A slow group of foreigners we walking down the path carrying flags, it was a march of the deceased and many a folk were crying. I made eye contact with a young boy who’s tears slid down his cheeks, as they passed I looked down at carving knife in my hands I took a breath and placed the blade within my heart, I fell out of the tree and hit the ground. A shadow figure came down from the tree and landed next to me as he stepped closer I opened my eyes and rose up to stab the shadow being in the face it let out a shriek and I awoke. #count_doon
Thank you for the inspiration
There was a hairy female in the bathtub, her hair all fell off, and the bathtub was filled with water, and soon blood. Then there was a dog, then my old bestfriend from 3rd grade, and we were just standing her watching this young girl.
This is not a dream I drempt , rather wish for it to happen. I dream of becoming a successful lawyer that works for the UN and fights injustices in this world, Yes, I dream with all my heart that this will happen!
I had a dream that Leonard Peltier died while still in jail. In real life, he needs medical help for a life threatening aneurysm. In the dream I was so upset about his death in jail. In reality, he will probably die in jail. Nightmare.
Before I woke up I had a dream that my partner in the military and training in Costa Rica with a platoon where everyone was cool with each other. My friend R** was friendly with the platoon and I’m seeing all of this in flashback. But it turns out one day the platoon got drunk and wanted to play a round of shooting bottles off of people’s heads (yup). And my partner got up to do it and the person you were shooting at was R**. But he did it closer range and ended up grazing R** badly. My partner then left the military and when R** told me the story I realized he was talking about my partner, so I told him hey btw the person who shot at you is my partner. The end
form and space were non existent. we were our own colors swaying in the gobbly goop of our own aquatic wonderland. we could see the suns, what seemed to be above and below, but only suns. i was lavender. you were malachite. we all shared the warmth of this mossy membrane.
My teeth are falling out in my hands. I touch a wobbly molar and it comes out, looking like a huge walnut sized mass of bone.
Tarantulas are hiding in large recesses in my mattress. I’m holding my hand over one of the pits with a huge one inside, trying to keep it from escaping.
From as long as I can remember until I was fifteen years old, I would have this same recurring dream , not constantly but often where all of the sudden I enter a completely blank space. The only thing in the room was a metal bed frame. The frame often change. Mostly it was white with different designs on it from time to time. The bed was always only spring. I would have a terrifying feeling of laying on the bed, on the springs. Sometimes I would be able to weave into the sprigs. At others, I would lay on it. It was a scary experience. Or I would feel like it was an ants of a maze. The dream would wake me up at night. At times, I would stay and find comfort.
I am pregnant and it is night time. I am scared. I am holding a rabbit mask. I am desperately trying to bury the mask in the earth because someone ominous is coming and I dont want them to see it.
I am walking along cliffs by the raging sea. My baby is on my back. I see a giant cruise-style boat. I know I have to go on a sea journey, but the boat is sinking.
So instead I get into a tiny blue boat, woven from reeds. My family is in the boat.
We start our journey, but the boat is leaking.
I wake up.
I tried to stop my mom from drinking and driving while I was in the backseat and she was in the driver’s seat, so she turned around in her seat and pointed a gun at my head.
I’m standing in the hallway of an office building many stories up with a view of a vast city of skyscrapers. Suddenly I feel a drop of water on my face. I look up to see water seeping down through the ceiling. In a matter of moments it is coming down much faster, covering the entire surface of the ceiling. I am getting very wet. I feel frightened as I hear those around me start to panic. There are murmurs that “it is taller than the building and it is coming.” I look outside through the wall of windows at the city and realize a monstrous tsunami is racing towards me. There is nowhere to go and I wake up panicked with my heart racing.
I walked on golden water with my dad.
I was 13 years old.I sat up from sleeping. I was in my bed as I recognized the yellow comforter I slept with. My attention was drawn to my right. The ceilings in my home at the time we’re very high,at least 12 feet and from the ceiling to the floor was the most amazing blue light I had ever seen. In the center of the blue light was a woman. My heart was pounding,fluttering so fast that I couldn’t move. I kept my eyes on her and noticed what she was wearing. Her head was covered her robe was long and to the floor. Her feet were bare and a rope was around her waist. She was completely enveloped in the blue glow. I looked to my door but I was too stunned to make a move toward it. My heart still pounding I just starred. She stood silently with her head bowed. Then slowly her hand raised and reached out to me. My body thrust me to my bedroom door. To this day I cannot recall if I woke up in my bed or outside my room. I am now 39 years old and have yet to see that shade of blue. And her presence has stayed with me always.
Being dragged through a prison tour, seeing all the different gangs engaged in battles. Turning the corner into a workshop to discover two skinheads fighting to the death, hurling each other into the walls and onto the ground, scattering shoddily made projects across the room. Once one has the upper hand, kneeling on his bloodied and dazed foe, I reach for a screwdriver and toss it on the ground, telling him to finish what he started.
It started with a group of people in a setting that was sort of a combination of forest and city. Everything seemed to be going well until we noticed someone was missing. We started to look for her and then I remembered I last saw her playing in the water earlier. The only thing that made sense was that she drowned. I wanted to go look for her, but all of a sudden a flash flood was making its way through the city. I couldn’t reach where she was and felt helpless. I don’t think I felt enough. I should have done more. Why did it seem like no one else was even missing her anymore? they just went back to what they were doing. I lost her.
A snow storm, whiteout conditions. Wandering through the driving snow drifts through a valley. Then I realized that there was something out there in the storm that was coming for me.
Hodam uz stjenovitu obalu.Put me vodi do kamene pustinje prekrasnih nijansi crvene i narancaste.Ulazim u kameni observatorij koji gleda na grad u stijeni.Vruce je.Vidi se po zraku.Tezak je .Pun muha i ljepljiv.Promatram ljude koji zive u gradu.Kao da smo izmedu Bliskog istoka i Azije.Ne vole me jer sam iznad.I ja se osjecam krivo, tako promatrajuci.Vec sam bila u ovome snu.Nekada sanjam iste krajolike , ali druge dogadaje.
I am stirring a vat of some dark liquid. Kneeling on the floor, bending over and stirring. The current in it is strong, it pulls the stir-stick and I test it by holding the stick still, and feel the weight of the liquid pushing against it. There’s so much power in the momentum. I feel it in my guts. I stand up and open a door next to me. I walk out, outside, onto a slope of dead grass. It is damp, late winter, grey and overcast. The grass is golden brown and gray-green, on the brown mud. I pick up a shovel that is leaning against the house. I place the edge of it against the earth and grass. I press down and feel it sink in, slicing through the roots, through the soil. I dig out a small hole. I turn and lean the shovel back against the house, and go back through the door. I bend over th vat and lift it by the handles. It is very heavy, and I hold it with all my strength, lift with my legs, and feel the pull of the liquid as it shifts against this motion. I step slowly outside, carrying the vat. I stand beside the hole. Gradually I tip the vat and the liquid starts the slosh over the lip into the hole. I keep pouring, and watch the liquid moving like a muscle into the earth. It splashes and fills the hole up and runs over the edge and down the slope, seeping and ticking as it enters the soil’s tiny pores. Tongues of liquid slowly work around the clumps of grass. The vat is so light now, I hold it with one hand. It is empty.
I dreamed I had a deep love affair with a praying mantis with the eyes of a cat.
I start to run as fast as I can, spread my arms, and take flight. I dip down as I get tired but can usually refocus and go higher. Most of the time these dreams have me flying over the Duomo in Florence, where I lived when I was 19.
A recurring dream: I’m in Boquillas Canyon in Big Bend National Park. It is beautiful and peaceful with expansive landscape as far as the eye can see. The Grateful Dead are there and they are playing Stella Blue.
New world order. One person ruled all and was destroyng traces of the old world by burning everything. People were being coated in gold glitter. Their open eyes being drenched in gold glitter goo. People began accomodating to the new laws/ social norms.
I’m riding a freight train to Black Mountain. My friends have kidnapped me on a forced vacation. We drink beers as the countryside rolls by. I’m back home in the mountains with people I love.
Correction to last dream, “hear people’s thoughts” not “eat people’s thoughts”
I have to climb down into a large pool of icy water to cradle a large hare in my arms and keep him alive with my body heat. I know I can only hold him for so long before I freeze and have to get out, but he’s so gentle and comforting in my arms, I want to stay there forever.
I dreamt last year that my grandmother, who had passed, was in this strange crystal shop in an old garage. She could not speak but gestured for me to come closer, and she showed me a huge amethyst type crystal. She kept putting it up to her ear and then would point to me, implying I should do the same. She put a smaller stone in my left hand and gave me the large crystal. When I held it up to my ear my whole body shook intensely and my head felt like it was going to explode because I could eat every thought of every person in the world. I abruptly gave it back to her, afraid of it, and said “no I don’t want this, it’s too much for me.” She seemed disappointed but let me go off and do my thing. But after I left I thought “that was pretty amazing, and maybe it’s important for me to have the crystal” so I turned back to the garage. But when I got there, my grandma was gone, and there was no crystal shop, just an old normal garage full of random junk. I wish I had taken the crystal.
Sitting on a worn couch in a basement, a man walks down the stairs and throws a small yellow gift bag next to me. I look inside and see an impossibly large snake within; much larger than myself. I struggle to keep it closed and when I realize I cannot I throw it down and step away. As I watch a perfectly black cat steps out and looks at me with brilliant green eyes. We’re in the desert and there’s a single wall, which the cat now stands upon. I sit at a table. There are several other tables with chairs but no one else except myself. The cat mews uncomfortably loud and as we look at one another I wake.
Recurring dream about a tidal wave headed toward a seaside town where I live. I am in the water as it comes, and it used to be that I would get dashed against the rocks and the town would be destroyed. But as I’ve gotten older I dive down deep, under the tidal wave, and it still makes me tumble and throws me about but I am safe after it is over. I get my head above the surface and the sun shines on the water, a beautiful afternoon sun. I look at the town and it is all completely submerged, like a new Atlantis. But instead of being destroyed, everyone has acclimated to its new state of being, and people paddle around on surfboards to get around, diving down to their houses and to stores in order to enter. Everything is different, everything is surreal, everything is peaceful. I used to be terrified by these dreams but somehow now they are comforting.
I find out that the secret to being able to fly is as simple as wearing the right denim jacket and eating a delicious strawberry pastry at the same time – the mysteries of flight are suddenly unlocked and I have an entire new world to explore.
Standing in a clearing surrounded by trees that aew covered in clouds.There is mist making the air hazy .There is a figure of a person standing in the middle of the clearing with deer antlers coming from her head.I dissolve into her,into the earth.
On a farm. Abusive authority figure tells me to kill an animal. I wait til he goes and I set them all free and walk out into a field and storm and sit on a chair. I know he will kill me when he returns- but I’m content with what I’ve done
We are going across a bridge, it is quite rickety. There is water as far as I can see on both sides of the bridge…and it is also swaying. I notice that the car and the bridge are both submerged under 6 inches – 12 inches of water, so the journey looks very perilous yet we are at ease and this dismaying situation doesn’t seem to bother us.
I’m in the center of a mountain and a tree is on my right side a huge blue fish on my left with an angel ascending and descending from heaven.
It’s orange o’clock, when they order the rafts for lake explorations. Using a head mirror, each player experiences, from multiple angles, a pinstriped boat with numbers on the sides, and white bench seats that open up as a mini refrigerator. The dissection equipments float in a green light, beneath: a stereo-tactic device, lancets, rasps, retractors, and surgical staplers, lined up, and floating to the surface.
Richter’s head mirror glows. Pupil sectors, cut away for two knife throwing wheels, spin in black spirals inside of his head. A small operator rodent, named Gosh operates the eyes with cogwheels and pulleys, using them in great might, and agitation. The wooden wheels spin once, and then Richter closes the lid of the refrigerator, and Percy steps into the boat from the dock where he had been standing.
Percy is a motor mouth, he uses the Pennington clamp to keep his flapping jaws closed, but it doesn’t stay snug enough. His jaws drool through the retractors, spin lyrics, breathe letters. He never “speaks into the microphone.”
The two of them grab a pair of bandage scissors and snip the line of the dock. This leads to a TV splashing into the water, sizzling.
It’s green thirty, and the boys are getting really thirsty for an Xos 2 Exoskeleton (leader of all exoskeletons) so they can drink. Not once has either boy seen, or heard an Xos 2, but the operators manual makes specific reference to their whereabouts in this lake, and so they go, to hunt down an Xos 2 exoskeleton, to drink it up into their head mirrors.
Percy unpacks his box of cardboard, cutting it with a scalpel, and putting together one of those robot suits that astronauts wear. Richter stuffs his arm in the water and pulls up a wet, bleached mountain goat, setting it on the floor of the boat. He notices the lack of movement and gets an RF knife to do the job, cutting the sloppy, goat fur away. Revealed within, is a fur explosion, where Christmas lights piled under the whole inside fluff out.
One section followed by another, goat sends of string Richter thought were seaweeds light up in the water. Row after row of Christmas bulbs light the depths of the murky water, illuminating the entire lake bottom in yellowing seconds. The goat starts twitching, and Richter puts the RF knife and bandage scissors in the air. Percy flaps his jaw, repeating a common phrase of the region, “Hammers tucked in conversation!” He mutters in the robot suit.
He has just fashioned a whole astronaut suit out of cardboard, and begins doing a celebration dance, awkward left and right, robot booty before falling off of the raft, his helmet part hits the arm rest, and lands inside of the boat.
Richter looks down into the water, at the headless robot floating away, into the thousands of Christmas lights, and then he lifts up the robot head from the planks of the raft, inspecting its sequins Percy taped on all around the mouth, and nose. Richter makes a noise, like approval, mixed with a kind of oblivious muttering, and through the glowing lake bottom,Percy watches as Richter begins putting on the helmet, careful of the poking tuna cans that the ears are made of.
Dream set in 20s. Nighttime. Man in white shirt, suspenders derby hat standing on hay in front of burgundy circus tent with frosty cafe overhead lighting. Singing song of heartbreak and betrayal, droning one note instrumentation. Feeling hollow and empty like the call of a loon on a desolate lake.
I was in a pine forest under the ocean. The colors were vibrant. It was very peaceful.
The Water Place. Again. It’s never the same place twice. Though I always know when I’m there. This time is an expanse of water. An ocean. Nothing to grasp but this small row boat I’m in. I’m sharing it with a man. A man with dark auburn hair. So dark it was nearly black. And clear pale blue eyes. The Priest. And I loved him. I knew who he was and what he was and that I loved him. We all know things in this place. And then we were coming up next to a large house. Or ship. Or house boat. We clamored inside. He told me something. I remembered it once. Inside was a city. This city was haunted. It was skeletal and stark and windswept. The colors muted greys and yellows. But clearly, it had once been beautiful. But we were running. The city was haunted. The destination I did not know. I just knew we were running somewhere. The Priest had me by the hand. Only it wasn’t him anymore. It was A. And I wondered if A was not the Priest in this place. If he had changed his identity to meet me here in dreamtime, the place outside of time. We met many places in those Inbetween places. We were running through buildings hand in hand. Haunted. Hunted. Up staircases and through hallways. We met her. The blind woman. She had dark sockets where her eyes should have been and her hair was made of oak leaves in fall. It seemed to cover her. She had her arms out in welcome and we were in awe. She told us a grave secret. She told us many secrets. And then I was falling back. Back to this body that forgets all the secrets. And I woke knowing I had felt this amazing love and that one day I would have to remember all the words the blind woman said. I woke wondering if A, in his own bed across town, would remember them.
was really annoyed this morning that I was so caught up in this dream that I couldn’t wake up. when I realized I was aware I was dreaming, I did what any good American girl would do and decided to turn my boring dream into a lucid sex dream. I grabbed this really hot dream dudes dick to see if he was down. he locked eyes with me and picked me up and pinned me up against the wall. His dick was dreamy huge & rubbing against me thru his pants but I couldn’t make out with him because my whole mouth was full of chewed up pen caps. I kept spitting them out but they seemed infinite. While I was doing this, another girl approached and tried to join us, but I kept pushing her off the table like she was a cat. I told her it wasn’t personal – it was just my dream and she could do whatever she wanted when I was done – but she wouldn’t go away. I pulled his pants off and his penis was really small and looked like a corn cob with kernels so small it was triggering my trypophobia. I thought maybe liked to wrap it up with string like meat at a market. I looked down and realized his leg was covered in bandages that the other girl was ripping off. Underneath, his whole leg was covered in mollusks and barnacles. She ripped off some sort of gooey shelled sea bug off his leg, exposing his raw, bright red skin underneath. On his hip bone, there was another mangled boneless appendage about 8 inches long that looked like a huge hunk of human grade pulled pork. I couldn’t imagine putting his mangled dick in my mouth but was still trying to be down cuz damnit it was MY lucid sex dream. Then he opened his face up (?!) and it flopped open to right above his hips and took up his entire torso. There were big pools of blood beneath his eyes. his eyes kept falling out and I has to fish them out of the blood pools and put them back into his eye sockets. His tongue was as wide as his hips but wasn’t attached to a mouth or lips anymore, and was patchwork, as if it was 10 different people/animals tongues sewn together. He kept flicking it around, psychically telling me to sit on it (his mouth didn’t speak words anymore so we were speaking telepathically) and i felt really conflicted as I consistently dipped my hands wrist deep into his blood pools to replace his perpetually falling eyes. All the while he was talking to the other girl about how they should get back together. Finally I gave up because she seemed really into his mollusk legs and I, feeling disappointed that I wasn’t “down for everything” like I always thought, walked away. That wound up being a good thing because he put his face back together and saved a bunch of kids from a concentration camp.
Once I dreamed that I was floating in an ocean during a storm.I was panicking because I was sure there were sharks beneath me, ready to attack. I looked around and saw a horse swimming in the water so I paddled out to it and wrapped my arms around its strong neck. “Oh thank god. Its kicking will probabyl protect us from sharks. But wait, can horses swim well?” I wondered “Oh god I might drag this poor thing down.” but as I thought this, I looked up and threw the curtains of rain saw a house floating in the water being tossed back and forth by the waves. It was old and gray and weathered. Two stories with a front porch. The horse and I made it to the house and I walked in. There was no furniture, just a stair. I walked up it and found Tom Waits crouched in the corner with big rats crawling all over him and all over the floor. I recoiled and he turned to me with a gas can and shoved it into my hand. “We have to burn it down.”
I was with all of my old (all guy) friends, and they kept leaving to the next place, but not inviting me along. They kept saying “it’s a guy’s thing” and I kept arguing with them and pointing out how ridiculous it was that they were leaving me out because I was a woman. I told them they were “woman-zoning” me, and asked the gay man if he’d appreciate being left out for a “straight guy thing” and how unnecessary their segregation was, considering how little it mattered that I had lady parts. They didn’t get it, and I woke up angry with them, realizing that this exact scenario had actually happened, in less-dramatic ways.
Had a dream with Henry in it. Somehow I had met him at his house with his family. I distinctly remember his mother. He was nice and his family was welcoming. Henry wrote on a board that I should see them later that night at the events in town, though I tried to come up with excuses because I was only staying a little. They owned a few dogs. A small one that was muscular and powerful and big one that was old and ailing and slow. The big one didn’t scare me, but the small one had a lot of energy and kept asking me to pet it. They told me that if I pet it slowly it would bite me, so I had to show interest in it and pet it quickly. But I eventually wasn’t scared or uncomfortable around this dog. Their house was in a swamp-like land and was elevated.
Correction: Rupaul’s Drag Race, not Face
I am a contestant on Rupaul’s Drag Face. Our assignment/challenge is to customize a hooded cape. I am afraid I won’t be able to sew it properly or come up with an idea. Time is passing, I feel so much pressure! I finally get to the right materials/fabric, but do I have time? I come up with an idea! I will line the inside of the hood with rainbow. Should the cape be red? Another contestant/queen suggests chartreuse. I think I plan on red in the end, this very shiny, vibrant red. There is still a sense of worry and pressure that I won’t pull it off
It’s nighttime, and I’m walking around these dogs, outside in a park. At first it’s fine, and I’m aware of the dogs, but then all of a sudden this dog spots me, and begins to approach. So I climb up a light pole, because I knew it would go after me. Then all these dogs are jumping all around me, and some of them are getting really close to biting me, and I didn’t know what to do. And there were these guys looking on, and they weren’t doing anything. And then this rottweiler jumps on a brick structure and I lean forward while hanging from the light pole and punch it really hard to topple it, but it doesn’t budge. It a big and muscular dog. Then fast forward and I’m in this kind of Persian market, but I’m scared, and I’m looking for someone or something. I’m really vigilant. I think I may have been scared of the dogs. I was walking on bridges and ledges and looking over balconies, and there were these merchants selling their goods on rugs but I wasn’t interested. I was just scared to walk on the ground, and the merchants were kind of selling their things on this elevated platform. But it didn’t feel like modern day – it was another age or another country.
I was in a creepy and large house and I saw a baby that looked like it was dead by a bus stop previously when I was walking down deserted streets. I had a gun, and I was looking for someone or something, going up the steps. There were three girls on the last floor. I had to kill all three girls, because somehow they were menacing or threatening, or they had something to do with the baby’s death. All the girls, as I looked over the last step of the staircase, were seated around a rectangular table. I went floor by floor. It was like an apocalypse. I was with someone, a girl I think, but I can’t remember who it was. I kept telling her not to come up the stairs to the third floor because it was dangerous, but she came up anyway. There was some kind of confrontation with one of those three girls, and when I shot my gun, only a laser came out, and I wasn’t able to kill any of them. I ended up having a heated conversation with one of them, and my dream ends there…
I had a dream that I lived in a house with caitlyn and it was an older ranch style house in the middle of nowhere suburbs (like mid PA).. Kinda dark.. But in the middle of this dream I dreamt I was with another girl I didn’t know and together we ended up walking the streets in dresses and I was bare foot talking about how we should call someone to pick us up and that I wanted not spicy Mexican food but she didn’t want anyone to pick us up because she didn’t know anybody and therefore didn’t trust them. I remember it being cold and muddy. Then it switch to mine and caits house… We were working.. I think starting our own business… and it was in an older poorer part of PA (more woodsy) and there was a lot of stone walls around and like… Abandoned buildings: i was driving down a street or in a car and I was thinking about what it would be like to walk down this street bare foot when I saw a large abandoned mansion with really pretty windows but it was clearly abandoned because the windows where murky and parts of it where falling apart and everything was over grown.. And in the drive way there where four Cadillac cars with deflated tires and the same murkiness. the first one you can see a figure in the back seat. He was a ghost called the lone rider or something like that because he was waiting to go for an award but died before he could get there… And then the family moved out and left all the cars there. In my dream apparently there was a movie made about this and it plays off of how he’s a ghost and can see his family All upset after he dies. Then it’s later in my dream and I’m telling my mom about it and she said that she remembered the family because she had a crush on one of their sons but he wouldn’t go out with her because he didn’t believe she truly loved him.
I had a dream that I was going to hip hop class and I had a black convertible and I was late so I was rushing to get there, when i got there it was in a different spot and the teacher was going so fast and not telling anyone anything. Then I was meeting my friend but he wouldn’t answer so I went to an Arby’s/ cvs and brought food and stuff and saw uncle Dan and then ended up having to walk home through a bad neighborhood and then on a highway. Then I was late for hip hop again and Jackie was there and she didn’t know what was going on and the room was decorated messily with streamers and such. I was trying to keep up with the dancing because no one told me it was the advanced class until I asked. Jack left to play soccer and I went to her house/ grams house and no one was there… I left my grandparents/ cousins house and all there was for me to drive was one of those toy cars that kids can sit in and drive. As I drove everything became more and more overgrown and when I looked back at the house it was gone and there was a baby elephant like creature looking at me and then it began to chase me so I pushed all the way down on the toy car and tried to go as fast as I could but a streaming creak came up in the road and I was so scared I drove right in it and woke up
I make pizza when the world is falling apart.
A recurring dream: there is a grizzly bear and he wants to attack my son, the bear always gets into the house. In one instance, I shoved my son into the attic while keeping his bedroom door shut with the lower part of my body as the bear attempts to get in. In a different version I tell my son to climb out of the window while I turn around to face the bear and block his path. In the third version, my husband ( a police officer) can’t get to the gun in our safe quickly enough and I have to protect my child. Apparently I am ready to face a (grizzly) for my son. MOMMA BEAR inverse
Wandering an old dimly lit home. Unfamiliar, but safe, quiet, curious. Dusty sitting room, dusty hallway. Climbing a carpeted staircase, I pause on the landing for an inspection of the striped wallpaper. Nose an inch from it, I come to see that the design is composed of tiny, electric dots. The noticing of this odd design and recognition of it being unnatural brings control. Lucid now, I choose to send my hand through the wall, then my arm, my head, torso. With ease and wonder, I enter a world of light, sensation, surging glow. Not sure how long I linger there. Waking, I know a boundary was crossed, a space inhabited that I am grateful to have touched.
the night before he broke up with me (yes, in real life) i had a dream that i became pregnant. in the dream i went to tell him but i couldnt find the right moment. later on i got the impression he didnt want a baby. in the dream i somehow convinced myself i should keep the baby and tell him when i am giving birth. i was able to hide my pregnancy but when the time came to give birth, he wasnt around. i drove myself to a center and the labor began.. there was so much pain. at one point i was looking up to a doctor and a nurse and saw their faces. ‘whats wrong?’ as i pushed and pulling.. i knew something was wrong from their looks. i didnt want to believe it. i kept pushing. then suddenly it happened.. it came.. a pool of blood poured out of me. almost like a waterfall. it filled the entire room. where is it? where it is? finally the doctor goes..’its dead.’ .. that pool of blood was the birth. i was so broken there was nothing for me to touch. to hold. nothing tangible..
and thats when i woke up in sweat. my hands hurt from gripping my sheets.
later that day, i got the call from him. it was over. he broke up with a few weeks into arriving into africa. we were together for 4 years. i struggled to make sense of it all but i remember accepting it when he told me ..because i had felt the pain before in the dream. it somehow prepared me. i never saw him again.
i told my mom about the dream. she told me the relationship was the unborn baby. the pain, the blood was all necessary for me to realize there was nothing left..
Every so often I dream about the same location. I am aware that I am in some form of city with old architecture. The area is artsy and trendy. I know this without ever really going outside of this one red brick building. On the very first floor there is a shop full of all kinds of curiosities and handmade items. The upper floors have been different things depending on the dream. It was once the dorms for an arts university. But most times I spend my time exploring the many floors of this building. Each floor has its own architectural design, most with some form of courtyard or garden. One floor might be in the the style of the Palace of Versailles. Another floor might be Art Deco, or Victorian. And so that’s how I spend my time, going up into every floor and leisurely strolling through the different gardens and noticing all the intricate details of everything. The trick is, that I can never manage to go back to the same floor twice, no matter how badly I’d like to. In this dream I am always alone. There might be people living in these upper floors, but I never see them.
I often wonder if these dreams are just me exploring my Mind Palace. The Mind Palace is a memory retrieval technique that I often think about but have never tried. I’m in the arts so perhaps this is my way of exploring my own knowledge and desires. It’s also interesting to note that I had these dreams more often while I was in my previous relationship. In the dream I always wanted to share my findings with my partner, at the time, but I knew he could never join me there and even if he did he wouldn’t understand. He and I are no longer together, and I wonder if that was some form of sign back then.
I dream of climbing up a tall ladder with my friend and we reach the room 223 that we are looking for.
I dream about skipping the highway with my aunt with tutu on and we saw a purple monkey.
maybe this site isnt child friendly
i was on a smallish boat which had a small cabin and the rain was brutally pouring down and the sea which seemed bottomless was like a maelstrom. My younger brother was on this boat with me and it was obvious in my mind only one of us could use the small cabin as shelter. The fact that in this unforgettable dream i felt and knew i had to put my brother in the cabin and withstand the storm for him, this is still a comfort to me this day. Anyway that was just the begining of my dream , once my brother was safe in the warm little cabin i noticed an almighty noise building from nowhere, it was that screech of huge metal on metal and was coming from the sea itself. As i looked into the water i see a huge dark mass rising from the depths, A massive whale breached the water at least 50 feet and wrapped around its head was huge metal chains, rusty, attatched to a big old rusty submarine, the whale makes such a huge leap it lands on a beach that suddeny appeared from nowhere!
I was driving really fast on around a curve on a cliff when the passenger side door flew open and cold air hit me and the car lost control but I was still turning into the curve then I woke up suddenly with a migraine
I dreamed of being in my apartment trying to convince two cartel men to stop arguing with two Honduran females that I don’t know but told them to go outside thru the wall I saw them the two girls then one man standing behind them then one standing in front of them then when I turned around to my surpruse there was a older Spanish man with a great and black beard standing behind me wearing a black hat and a black dress shirt and black dress pants, then my 15yr old son Dylan walked from behind the man to our front door dressed in a purple dress shirt and black slacks with a black/white/grey tie like he was dressed for a special occasion.
With my mom she is searching for something in sewer jumps in clear water that turns red
I dreamt that I was in a cabin in a ship stranded on shore with no water in sight. Looking through the port hole, I can see fish flopping on the dry sand for miles and village people hastily collecting them in baskets. Then water started coming and a huge wave formed, I tried banging on the small window and yelling to warn them, but to no avail. My aunt was with me as we watched the chaos unfold and felt the ship get picked up by the wave. Water started seeping in the cabin and soon was up to our necks…I got my last breath and watched my aunt float unconscious under the water. I woke up horrified and gasping for air.
I come home to a house full of dogs made out of sweaters. They’re real living dogs with real personalities. I pet them and play with them and wonder how this can be true when they’ve also definitely been hand stitched by people, out of sweaters and table cloths.
I dreamed that my grandma held my hand as we roller-coastered into space, looping around the sun and touching the rings of Saturn.
Once I dreamed I was a manta ray. I was swimming/flying in the open ocean and with one mighty push, flew out of the water into the air doing a complete circle and back into the water. I did this three times and it was so exhilarating! No words were in this dream- just being the manta ray.
i was going on highway, suddenly i get into an exit, realized it was not what i wanted, i tried to go back to highway, i found a makeshift road and that way. On the way to the road i see two school age girls and i continued to head to the road leading me back to the highway and i woke up.
All money you contribute to your own account come off the top which reduces your current tax liability while building
an income for the future. Small business owners
are also afraid of Obama – Care. ” (how much can it change year one, each year after, and over the life of the loan).
I dreamt that we were taking a trip somewhere. We were all set to go, but you lost your boarding pass and the attendant refused to print a new one. (Where did it go? Wasn’t it just in your bag?) So you went and you forged a new one and we got on the plane. I waited the whole flight to get in trouble, but we never did. When we landed you turned to me and said, “Sometimes in life you have to make your own boarding pass.”
For MS, who forged a boarding pass in my dream. Why? Who knows.
always wanted to
always hope to
but I do not remember my dreams
I was driving a car and drove off the road, my wife was in the passenger side and I drove off a cliff. I then jumped out of the vehicle and went over to try to save my wife who was under the ice
A dream that I’m looking slowly around, sweeping my vision across the inner chambers of my mind. It’s like a series of rooms with stars for a roof.
I was on stage in some play but I wasn’t playing a part, I wasn’t suppose to be there. A woman that I was afraid of for some reason, told me to go through the door marked “Bookstore”, and there I would be safe. The curtain was rising and I hurried to escape the ayes of the audience. But I got lost in the maze of doors and sets and somehow stumbled out into the street of a carnival/festival in midday. I passed some booths selling food, balloons, candy, jewelry etc. some booths I passed however looked sketchy and I walked by them quickly. But I felt that I was being followed so I took the path leading to a grassy field and took out an Iphone that appeared in my pocket and started following this girl who was suppose to kill me. I bumped into her and saw that she was taking pictures of me too. Then I felt the wind pick me up and slowly i rose from the ground. First only a few feet, then as i focused on commanding the wind i rose higher as my confidence increased. Then the red hair girl who was following me suddenly was wearing a vibrant green satin gown and was attempting to grab me out of the sky. I got scared and almost got caught but I sailed back up just in time.
An ugly, old man with only a few teeth coming into my house and trying to have his way with me
Eating a pine cone covered in whipped cream as a snack.
My friend traps a tarantula in a plastic bag. When i try to tie it closed it bites me.
My female cousin was driving a black suv and fell asleep and we broke through a metal barrier and my three cousins and I swam to safety and my mom who is a retired cop was on the rescue scene along with another friend that is also a retired cop and she gave me some timberland boots with navy blue laces to put on and my mom kept saying I told you to get her a size 11 and get Gabrielle the size 10!!!
Kittens rolling around in ice cream.
I dreamed that the walmart distribution trucks were crashing into their building and walmart stores and the trucks were being driven by extremely tall and big men and my family and i would almost just miss getting hit by one of these trucks and these giant men would come rushing into the buildings and stores looking around like they were unsure what was happening
I dreamt hat I was driving down a road and all of a sudden the headlights shut off and it was pitch black and I knew I was gonna crash. I woke up startled
had a dream about weed
Had a dream last night about a rich couple who lived in an office with a display window. Their baby grew up and became a beautiful blond girl. She was an actress.
I was in a dream inside a car suddenly I step out from the car and the change to truck and moved away by itself what does it mean
I was outside in a field of lifeless dirt and no ceiling, the field was full of brown/redish pots with nothing growing. My aunt was there, so we had sex. I looked at the pots and still nothing would grow. So I continued to have sex hoping something would grow. Nothing grew. I looked up and saw “the cow jumped over the moon” in the sky, but it was just suspended there. So I pulled out of my aunt and my penis turned into a ladder. But the ladder only worked horizontally and I got nowhere.
Tsunami tornado than switched to a horro movie but i killed the criminals and then switched to me getting married to a guy who was i All this dream
what does it mean when you dream you and you lover are on a bike sliding into a snowbank.
what does it mean when you dream you and you locer are on a bike sliding into a snowbank
On two different nights I dreamt of being in a church that was huge but unfamiliar for the most part. It was on fire starting up thru the steeple area I was trying to help put it out but nothing could stop it not even rain as it started to pour. Then I was going to doors which led outside and would open them each being a little higher than the others. When I looked out the doors I saw sandy strips of ground intermingled with layers of large pebbled ground I was afraid to step out the ground did not look secured even though thru every door I opened I looked to my right as it went higher and at the very top was one big lone door. I went back down into the church there were people here and there sitting in pews all looking at me even my mother the only person I recognised when I looked around me to see what they were seeing I saw a man not young or old he was huge and covered in golden robes. He was beautiful. His robes were beautiful and shiney and looked as heavy as real gold. He gathered me into his arm under his robe it swept around me but was not heavy at all and he was not so huge and I was a girl singing not sure what but Isounded beautiful and felt so proud, content, utterly loved so much iI wanted to be with him and gowherever he took me wherever he came from. He looked at me with such love and kindness he himself and his robes of gold and feelings of comfort he gave me were to large to phavem but yet when held at his breast no larger than reality of everyday . he gently told me I could not go with him and I wanted to argue why not and kept singing in hopes of maybe an approval to go but he toldme no and it wasn’t dissapproval he said it wasn’t time for me to come with him not yet and I wasn’t angry or hurt and looked as my mother and a few others kindly shook their heads no as if they agreed and he was gone. Just for record my mother is alive and I believe it was her but the church was kinda dark from where it had burnt so details were hard to see all but the beautiful man of no age full of love you could feel radiating from him and his thick heavy layered glowing robes of gold and above him only light coming off of himself and robes. Once again when he pulled me into his arm or breast his hand was normal of size and so was he and even tho I felt like a girl none of it was giant to me when wrapped in his robes. Two nights in a row I dreamt of this the only variations being in the church that was burning. Both nights he kindly told me I couldn’t go with him not yet it wasn’t time and he was gone.
My friend’s dad loses consciousness. When I go over to help him I see that he is a bunny suit filled with mouthwash. I put the mouthwash into a smaller plastic container and put it on the sink, but when they come wanting to know how their dad is doing I suddenly realize that I may have made a mistake and start trying to quickly get the mouthwash back into the bunny suit before they realize my error.
I had a dream that I was in a car with three others. Someone else was driving and drove off the dock into the water on purpose. Than I oke up
My niece stole my keys to car then while backing out of drive way crashes it.
I was with my ex again, and through some seamless thing he had had a child. I ended up becoming the mother of that child, and then actually became the baby itself. I then, as the baby, participated in this weird water diving thing with some other baby. The water was deep and clear, but had the feeling like it was in an amphitheater of sorts, with spectators. We both had cats to carry with us as we swam and dove.
Time passed in the dream and I ended up running a general store and carried said cat with me everywhere in my hoodie pocket, even zipped up under my winter coat. I was helping a young man buy his first razor and shaving cream and advised him that since he was just starting, he didn’t need a super intense razor because his skin would still be soft and delicate at this point, and his hairs sparse. We ended up only having one kind of razor, but still.
We couldn’t find any shaving cream on the shelf so went to look for some in the back garage storage area, but couldn’t find any. I went to ask my dad (who was not my real life dad) where it was and then we panic, realizing the razor boy has gone into the other door, on the other side of the gutted garage. This is NOT GOOD, and releases some kind of evilness. Things gain an apocalyptic feeling.
I was driving to deliver vegetables and got in an accident sliding in a bunch of strawberry ice cream- like snowbanks of strawberry ice cream. My friend Lisa was getting propaganda in the mail about stds. When we crashed things changed and we started investigating this roadside ditch where there were little tent sites made from blankets. They alternated between being “infected” and “not infected. It turns out “they” (whatever “other” force- gov’t, bad guys or something) were trying to breed the heroin plant which was present at infected blanket sites with the common weeds and flowers of the swampy ditch. We accidentally pollinated one of them through cross contamination as we were checking things out. The inch worms we were observing from the ditch were tripping out. It was stressful.
I dreamed that evil monkeys with laser guns were attacking my house. My brother and I fought back with light sabers and laser guns. And my cat had turned into this 8ft tall giant buff cat with an 8 pac that could walk on 2 feet and had a bandana on and a gun strapped around her shoulder. And we all fought the evil monkeys invading our home.
So on October 17,2011 I dreamt I was in an airplane and something happened where the airplane was going somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. So my friend said,”My mom says we need to jump” And to jump meant that I’d be in Haiti (which is a place I went to in 8th grade and I had this dream right after the trip). And to stay meant I would go somewhere I wasn’t meant to be. Then my friend jumped. And I saw the sunset outside, it was the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen and in my dream I knew it was called “Holy One”. And if I jumped I knew I’d be with God in Haiti.So I opened the door and flew up a bit from the air blowing. Then I closed the door and ran back. But then I realized this sunset is called Holy One, God must want me to jump. So I opened the door and jumped, it was the most amazing feeling I have ever felt and I knew I made then right decision. Then I woke up.
I was in an In-N-Out in Los Angeles, sitting at a table with my ex-boyfriend and three other girls. My ex-boyfriend who I had fallen madly in love with, and then madly fell out of love with, left heartbroken. I knew in the dream he was actively intimate with these girls. They were all three extremely beautiful. But, as I looked at each one individually, really looked, their appearances morphed and became uglier and uglier. Sitting across the table, one girl’s hair was suddenly cut short and died black. The other had a huge scar running across her face, red and swollen. The girl sitting next to me had short blonde hair and immense eyes, she looked like me. I realized afterwards that she was me, a me I used to be. Next to her was him. She was kissing his forehead, as I used to, his large nose too. He soon began to fondle her back and suddenly laid on top of her at the booth we were sitting at. I couldn’t take it anymore, the jealousy and the hurt. I jumped out of the booth, thrust my car keys into the trash can by the door, rushed out of the restaurant and began to run. I fell as I hit the ground running, the ground was a mix of black tarp and gravel. I knew I had the strength in me to run. I yelled at myself “Run, X, Run!!”. With my hands I pushed myself up from the ground, spraying gravel around me,with the strength of someone who had just tasted freedom for the first time. I felt liberated and I was my own supporter. My soul was telling me to run, let it all go, and never look back. For a moment he was chasing after me, so I kept running and I knew he would give up. And I lost him. Run as fast and hard as you can and never look back.
This dream has haunted my life.
I am holding my Dad’s hand and he is leading me up a long winding path to the top if a hill. We get to the top and there is an unmarked grave stone. I have a red carnation to put on the grave. Then I see a vision of my mother’s lap, and I realize this is her grave. Then I wake up.
I had this dream when I was 6 years old and I am now 32.
An old, white haired japanese yakuza covered with tattoos shows me a silver plateau with small freshly fished sharks on it. I am sitting on a table with one of my good friends. The wall in front of us is covered by an ancient painting that shows the anatomy of these sharks. They have wings similar to those of the flying fish and fangs just like snakes that are linked to a bag of poison. The yakuza is silent, his middle man tells us to put our finger on the fang, to let it’s poison enter our body. We do it without questioning him. As soon as I feel he poison enter my blood I start falling backwards. It feels as if I was falling a thousands miles an hour, but the fall takes forever. This dream altered my perception of time forever.
( ps: I don’t do drugs in real life )
We were headed to ceremony on top of a mountain. Spiraling up the cliffs like a caracol/atecocolli, i saw that the Mountain was a pyramid. Once on top of the mountain we began ceremony. We sang around the fire singing the songs our ancestors passed down in our DNA being woken up as we prayed out loud. Than I saw my elder in the room, he told me to go outside and “talk to the full moon in that beautiful Nahuatl language.” Once I walked outside of the room I saw her. Coyolxauhqui, nana Metztli, was there and I talked to her, asked for her light to guide me. And everything vanished, it was just me
And her. In the darkness of the obsidian night with jade glowing of her neck with the beautiful Huipil woven of constellations.
An unknown man trying to break in to my house through the front door (in the dream my house is my parents house where I grew up). I go and get my gun, I lift it and shoot him in the chest. It’s all in slow motion, I feel all the force of the round leaving the gun and impacting his body. He doesn’t go down, he’s still trying to get into the door. I shoot him again, this time to his head.
I’m in Berlin, it’s always Berlin. It’s time to leave but I don’t want to, there is still so much I need to see and do here… the overwhelming sense of something being unfinished, of something yet undiscovered. But if I don’t hurry and pack and get to the airport, I will miss my plane. But I want nothing more than to miss the plane, and remain in beautiful Berlin!
My Boyfriend has this sweet little niece, and in my dream she dies. some what unexpectedly of a cold. its told to me very matter of factly. No one is really concerned or sad about her death, and not in a scary must bury my feelings way just a “its been 3 hours lets move on” then we leave the house and go get groceries. The childs mother is buying lemons, and we turn an aisle and its some ones basement we are exploring for secret passageways. I keep thinking that maybe she didn’t die and is just lost and thats why were searching. what we are actually searching for is never talked about or discoverd, but this guy has the greatest caves and tunnels in his basement. the end.
I’m riding in a car with William Burroughs, I’m the driver, he’s the passenger. After a lot of surprisingly sweet conversation, and a freak out where I step on one of his needles with my bare feet (it’s mixed in with a bunch of trash under the gas pedal), he turns to me and says, “Enough kid, you’re nostalgically demoralized.” And I know that he means that I can stop bringing myself to these shitty places, and holding myself in pain out of a need to stay connected with the past.
Dream of Callie’s boats burning on the Hudson, floating up. And we swam along with them as they went down – partially inside them below the surface of the water. Collapsing in on itself. Callie was there and we swam and her eyes swam and we ended up kissing and examining our bodies as we went down. Boats rounded corners and we push the pyre safe. Something collapse and we were not alone.
i dreamt a falling star from heaven,and there were black clouds out side and the star was big and it hitted the ground and the ground turned to gold,and there were many people prasing God
I had a dream my niece and i were in a bus it rolled over into a lake or pond.we got out before it filled with water.tryed to go back in and save others but i woke
So I just had a dream that I walked in gymnasium of my old private school and it was packed with people. There was some sort of relay race going on, where they were running up and down the gym in teams doing certain tasks or exercises. I then joined a group that the far left and we finished up the rest of the race. It wasn’t clear who finished first because the next part of the dream/race we were all gathering outside on some dock to get on these long plank like canoes and canoe to the other side. Each one was unclear on how to actually use it and I remember I was one of the first people there and we’re trying to pick a boat and every other team made up their minds faster and took off. We quickly hopped on one and set off. We arrive at a giant ship at another dock and there is a very very high ladder to climb. I waited in turn while everyone already there to go up and when I got there there was a man supervising the ladder as people went up. I remember saying something about how high it was before i set off and he just chuckled and told me not to look down, i didn’t. At the top there was a big party/gathering. I went into the bathroom and I saw my cousin washing her hands. I went up to her and told her we needed to talk and she looked a me wide eyed and kind of guess what it was. I ducked into as stall so no one could see me and told her I was pennant, but she already had figured that out. we were going to keep on the conversation so i could tell her I had ‘taken care’ of it but it was crowded and we both were off doing things. at the end of the dream/party everyone was to pile down the ladder again, I remember reaching the exit but for some reason turning back, maybe to find my cousin. I then had to wait for everyone else to leave and my mom was there. She was talking to the man at the bottom of the ladder and she made it down. then they started getting ready for taking off. I wasn’t down yet and so i yelled down to them and he laughed and said he wouldn’t go that fast. I then turned around to climb down the ladder and I woke up.
What does all this mean?!
I dreamed last night that I had agreed to have a threesome with the a man I love very much in real life. He is my first true love. My best friend, my lover and partner in my very sober life. His interest seemed so sincere, that I wanted to make every effort to be selfless as he has been been for me so many times. In reality, I believe myself to be a person who does not harbor jealousy…that is my waking life.
So the dream sequence begins. There is my beloved, a girl with no name and myself. I feel first only love for my beloved, and only mild curiosity for the girl with no name. But as our mutual courtship begins, I sense that girl with no name has feelings for my beloved…strong primal emotions for my beloved. She sees the good in him, the compassion, the tenderness and kind heart that is held in his body and spirit. I feel her thirst to covet. I become afraid. I feel threat looming over our love bed, fear spills out of me as I look on. I leave my body, feeling only numb and cold, alone. Memories of my last drunk descend, my heart feeling like lead beating against my lungs, I am dying.
I don’t want this. I love you, my beloved. But I cannot share you this way. I am sorry. Although you are not mine, you are a part of me.
I wake up. The dream is over. My beloved is snoring with a deep rhythmic balance that assures my soul that all is well. I am enough. He is enough. The present is real. Dreams are moments to learn more about we don’t know in the waking life. I am blessed. I have today. And my beloved is by my side in this next 24 hours.
I dreamt my ex wearing a red dress shirt, wearing ring I gave him, he was moving his hands side to side , blurred movements
In my dream, I saw myself drive off a cliff but I survived and there were these people who were helping me and I didn’t recognize any of their faces. What scared me was when my friend told me I had died in her dream the same night I had that dream.
It takes a very small electrical force to turn on the light
emitting diodes. If you are growing leafy plants, blue light regulates this growth.
Building a DIY LED grow panel is also a great chance for a gardening enthusiast to try their hand at a different type of
There is a huge exhibition put on in an abandoned Super Walmart, it’s called Shakers VS. Vegas, and the concept is this: In one half of the space, the Shakers set to work building sparse beautiful objects, simple and elegant, just enough to fill their side of the room with what is necessary – then, the Vegas team, designers who do stages for floor shows, costumes, and over the top hotel lobbies fill their side of the space with the most intense exhibition design they can produce. Then the two teams switch sides. The Shakers set to work cutting apart and transforming the excesses of Vegas into austerity, utility, and spiritually driven simplicity, while the Vegas team busts out the sequins and peacock feathers on all that boring Shaker furniture.
to have a nice breakfast with dear people every morning.
to have a good sleeping with a loved one every night.
I watched myself drive off a cliff in my mom’s car
This cold morning I dreamed of that hairless squirrel that fell from its nest being nursed by a pair of hands filled with warm water.
There is a small figurine who has been helping me while I sleep. She’s about the size of a barbie, and she has been moving in slow conscientious circles around my darkened room, gathering things that I need, sorting out problems and so on during the course of the night. I only realize that this is happening when she has a bad fall, and hurts her leg. I wake up inside the dream, and there she is, covered in dust, stuck behind the dresser, with another small figurine coming to her rescue. I am wracked with guilt. How did this happen? How did I come to have this tiny tiny lady helping me when I am so much larger than her, couldn’t I have done it myself? I had no idea that she was putting herself in such peril.
In my dream I invented a video game called “Broken Seaplane”, in which you’re on an island in the Strait of Georgia, north of Vancouver BC, and you are in need of supplies, so you get in your seaplane, but the engine won’t turn over. In the game, you can try to start the plane as many times as you wish, but it never comes to life. You can gently bob in the cockpit and watch the sky change. You can open the engine cover and look at the engine, but there’s nothing noticeably wrong, and you don’t know how to fix engines. You can take the engine apart if you want to. There’s an engine service manual in the cockpit that you can find, but it’s several hundred pages long, and understanding it requires a knowledge of engines and how they work. You can go for a swim, but it is very cold and if you stay in the water too long you freeze.
The game is popular among certain obscure circles, and eventually some kids form a band and call it “Broken Seaplane”, in reference to the game.
Bugs that don’t die no matter how many times you squish them.
Terrible nightmare about being in some future version of Hong Kong. I see a bus drive by and the poster on the side is for a movie, the title of which translates to “ready to be bled dry”. It shows a couple, both on their hands and knees, side by side, facing the viewer, with bleeding gashes and slashes all over their bodies. The movie is about a serial rapist and murderer, and one is to understand from the poster that he has captured, tortured, and raped these two people, and will now make sure they bleed to death. I stand there sick to my stomach with horror that this has now become socially acceptable, even celebrated, main stream culture.
A mid-morning dream of her translucent bones like molted snakeskin.
I may have also bought a National guitar in my dream, and put it in the back of the car. The light was orange in the direction of west, where I was going.
I had a dream that I bought a car and every album that John Fahey ever made, and I drove west and listened to all of the musics and drove the whole way until the music was done and I was arrived at the ocean and I was happy.
In my dream, she said to him, “I’m everything that you are. You are everything that I am not. Along these withdrawn inward lines of yours, I’m shedding. I wear these snakeskin to ward off your irony, our scaly walls retaining moisture from within. My pyrite eyes turning milky and vulnerable. This perpetual moulting kept me in defense, resisting and confined within your folded nature. If you let me inside your armor, when you ask, I’d yield, and reach through your skin to the underlying machine. Would you open… “
Deep dark in the woods, caged inside a waterhouse- void of air, smothering and cold.
He let go of his rule and line- his scorching rememories of the untouching, and threw her shame away.
She- Lamia in captive, tenderly released, seeded and restored into a woman.
A field of blood red ceramic poppies growing through the interstices of the glassy ridges where my mother was born.
dreamed of being wounded by a penetrative shaming gaze that once cornered me.
silvers of desire, red in the grey.
a hard knife through butter.
dreams about not resisting
I was wondering throughout my house, yet it felt like an unknown and dangerous place. My blood froze as I saw my uncle, whose known for dark dealings in the world. I ducked behind a counter, wondering why I felt like crying. Another peek revealed the large uzi in his arm along with another familiar stranger. Both were puffing away at cancer-sticks. I held my breath, scared. What happened when we were still a family? A tear escaped me as I watched the shadows dance by.
my girlfriend jumped off a cliff in front of me
An envelope comes in the mail. Inside it are many beautifully wrapped tiny little gifts. My alarm goes off before I can find out what’s inside.
I dream that in the months and days before someone dies, the veil between the small slice of their individual world, and that of the infinite cosmos starts to become very thin, and they begin to be able to see backwards and forwards in time quite easily. For some reason the word for this phenomena in my dream was forbearance, and the word became like a relay flag that I would keep passing to myself across the gaps – when I woke up or became conscious at all in the night, I would repeat, forbearance, forbearance, to myself, as a handle to remember the dream by when I awoke.
I had a dream my 7 month neice was older and running around
I dreamed of a city with gleaming green and blue skyscrapers at sunset. In the towers, at random, are gigantic drawers that hold airplanes, so that the city is simultaneously an airfield, with airplanes taking off from the various floors and windows of the skyscrapers. Floating upward amongst the buildings they look like paper lanterns rising. On top of each airplane is a diamond plated steel porch that I find myself riding on, exhilarated and terrified as the plane begins to bank and I realize there is no handrail. I’m holding on to something like a windshield wiper, hoping it doesn’t crack off from the force as the plane banks almost totally sideways and I hang on for dear life.
I dreamt I came back to your house. You had painted the first floor yellow with a few colourful squares on the wall and my old bedroom was suddenly exposed brick but you had painted over it with baby blue and then spray painted a gold damask pattern over top. You had 6 roommates, one of them was David P. They all did lots of yoga and ate delicious food and you were happy.
I am not me, and I am in a beautiful house that isn’t mine. There is a large backyard surrounded by woods. A little way into the wood I can see some grey stones. I am pretty sure it is a small graveyard on a slope, but the arrangement of the stones, seen from a distance, looks like a carved chinese scholar’s stone.
i am driving around in O’ahu on a winding road, lost in the rainforest, in the dark, holding my iPhone in my hand, pressing buttons desperately to get my GPS to navigate. the Google maps bar reads Lemuria.
Lemuria, as in the lost continent of Mu that sank into the Pacific Ocean 200 years before Atlantis sank.
i don’t question this destination at all, apparently i know that i am trying to go there, i’m just angry that the GPS is not working. finally as i’m growing more frightened and the night is closing in on me, I pull over to the side of the road overlooking a cliff. suddenly the GPS voice finally speaks & starts repeating “you have arrived at your destination. your destination is on your left.” Mu. Here.
Be happy entire life
Trying to navigate the systems of survival in Orleans Parish Prison. Figuring out who’s bluff to call, and who to help.
dolphins jumping over the statue of liberty
I dreamed of statues.
I dreamed my x ask me for a shaving razor wat do it mean,?
I go to a raccoon sanctuary where gigantic, slow, gentle, larger than human sized raccoons are standing on two legs, dressed in hoodies and baseball jackets, holding and playing with their little normal raccoon sized babies.
I dream that this white fat healthy cat kept trying to get my attention. I was not afraid of it or anything. I finally started walking and the cat came up beside me and with his head down the cat took my two fingers and held them like it was human. I was like somebody must be feeding this cat, so let me get it something to eat. But in the dream I never did I woke up.
I am going to have dinner with a friend on the top of the hundred story tower of a hotel. We are meeting a big group of people. The night is strangely calm. No one is showing up and we don’t know why. All of the sudden a woman appears, she has run up a hundred flights of stairs to rescue us. The tower is on fire and we have to find a way to get down.
I had dream of a cloud lookn like a helium ballon with ladder coming down then it flew and blanket had feathers in it
I find my mother, homeless on a town square, wrapped in bandages and rags. I’m tearing new bandages for her, changing and dressing her with new rags, but I am not helping her not be a homeless addicted mess with nowhere to go. All of the sudden a realization comes over me, why am I doing this? Why am I tearing these rags and dressing her, and being caught up in the rest of my life instead of helping her?
I am on top of a mountain with this boy I’ve recently had a lot of feelings for and feel them reciprocated but I am in a committed relationship so they never have been acted on. but anyways we are atop a mountain overlooking the vallet when we start chasing a butterfly and fairy really playfully and childishly to the valley below the mountain here we run through a river chasing them, and then the river just take us and we are rolling the water, being pulled into the rivers center. It is not scary nor uncomfortable the feeling of being pulled but feels like it should. What is weird with this dream is we are both having similar dreams weeks apart.
I go into a thrift store to buy some blankets, and I realize that all of my stuff is in there. Someone has stolen all of my things and they have ended up here and now I have to buy them back.
I approach a huge Victorian style house, it is worn, painted grey and black. It stands before me, Gothic and imposing, but I am not afraid to approach it. I walk toward the door, along a stone pathway, on either side of me there are tall black hedges, growing wild, full of thorns. I get to the front step and pull open the huge front door without any hesitation. Inside, there are many people. I know all of them, they are my friends, my family, and even my acquaintances. They are rushing around the huge front lobby of the house, pulling sheets off of dusty furniture, cleaning and polishing the house, preparing it for something. In the dream, I knew what the reason was, I knew what they were preparing for, but I never stopped to really think about it, so now I can’t remember what we were all working so hard for. I pace quickly around the house greeting people and supervising the progress being made.
Then I come to a room in particular, it is circular in shape, with a hard stone floor, empty bird cages stacked along the walls, straw scattered on the floor, and a few pieces of furniture pushed aside, still draped in the dusty sheets covering most of the furniture in the house, But all I care about is the giant set of wooden double doors on the other side of the room they have metal details, and big heavy cast iron rings as handles.
There are two people in this room with me, an older man, with long wispy white hair, and a crinkled face with deep laugh lines, but currently wears a solemn expression. I have never met him before in real life, but I knew him well in my dream. Next to him stands a woman in her early forties, with long orange hair, rounded features, and a floor length dress, with eccentric patterns on it. She is also regarding me with a very sober expression. They ask me if I am ready, and I nod at them. They open the doors for me, and I take a step through them. This is the only point in my dream where I experienced any kind of fear, and it felt like fear of failure.
Suddenly I find myself standing on a familiar street, a road that I often played on as a child. It is very dark, there are no stars, and none of the squat suburban houses have any lights on. I instinctively feel that they are empty, that if I were to search for anyone, I would find nothing.
I begin to walk forward, talking long strides down the pavement road. A street light flickers on ahead of me, so I quicken my pace to catch up to it. As I run under the street light, it flickers out, and another lights up ahead of it. I keep quickening my pace, I feel determined and full of purpose, as if I am on the right path. I’m chasing the street lights at a flat run with no fatigue, and feeling triumphant with every one I pass. Suddenly I see the double doors again, at the end of the street, and I feel relieved, but also anticipation. The doors open, and I pass the last street light and walk through the doors again. I feel very ready for whatever is next, and when I enter the circular room, there are more people there now, waiting for me. The doors shut behind me, whatever I just did, I succeeded at it, I feel powerful, complete, and full of passion.
Complete rage dream. Trying to smash everything into a million pieces but none of it will break.
.. but still left itself tangled within the net. rest-less-assured.
I dreamed in this shared psychological space with the face I unfollowed: a whimsical face not to be played with this a netted book that kept it running around and letting it run away.
My whole family traveling days and nights looking for the perfect town to set our roots back in. We reached a town at a starry midnight blue evening, and rested on the teal grassy slope. Everything felt slow and the cool breeze smoothed me inside. We passed that town the next day, painless, but with every footstep away, my heart fixated more on that town and my mind lingered there. I had lost that place and I am not sure why but I had to. Could be that I wasn’t in the position to make the decision to stay but the sense of loss lived within me until the next morning, another awakening-the next person.
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The surgical procedure where hemorrhoids
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Hive house made of mud. Labrynths of hallways and tiny rooms, no lights at all, everything pitch black. I search and search for my sister, and for B, but find noting that I need.
we reside in each other’s morning dream as lucid nightmare.
my pregnant reveries, re-conceived.
angry moths swimming in the dark waters between my lungs.
the knife sings.
A beautiful bird showed up in my dream. Different colored feathers on it’s head and body, and huge colorful plumes from it’s tail. It was here to help me “clean my house”.
One morning, I dreamt of two phosphorescent and sexually dimorphic insects growing out from the palm of my hand. They looked like mutant moths, deviant butterflies and had small asymmetrical wings and premature insect parts. Immediately after their birth from my hand, at first sight of each other, the two insects were in deep love. Nervous, I turned my sight away and they started making love so deep into each other’s being that one started growing into the other at the point of intimacy. Panicked, I anxiously pulled one out of the other’s orificial envelopment. I soon realized my act of separation, the aborted transformation, had taken their life away because the parted bodies now began wilting and shrinking into two little coils of slow humiliating deaths.
A lucid dream of a man who won’t turn his face to me. I chase him and find him, turning his face toward me and touching it, putting my hand in his mouth, touching his teeth. I was hoping the face would be beautiful, but it’s angry in a way that suggests violence and I’m scared. It starts morphing, but each change keeps the same fearful tension of features, until finally the face has two mouths, and two sets of teeth, one where the mouth normally is, and one set of grinning teeth for eyes.
In a clockwork orange kinda setting – somewhere outside of copenhagen – huge layered structures, a carpet of moving neonlight hovers over the place, which is somehow still poorly lit. The infrastructure is sorta dislocated.
Local officials housed in a container-like structure – maybe because their official headquaters was burned down? Somebody mentiones this going into the shopping mall – which is on fire – but still open. People are buying things now, all the signs are in german, plastic yellows, hard blues, flat reds. A lot of canned goods and marshmellows in the shopping cart, but somehow we are transported to a sports store to get shoes before we can get the food out of there. The sports store is not on fire – but there are the four androids from bladerunner in there, posing as clercks – but we all know that they are secretly planning a hostile takeover of the shopping mall. They emit a stoic and suicidial calm, making the air in the room feel heavy as a house. I dont have any ambitions of talking them out of it. In fact it seems like the only logical thing to do from here – except, I keep having to look for a copy-shop to send a fax out – very important that fax – something essential depends on it…… yellow plastic balls with rinestone and glitter rolling arocss the epoxy floors.
I killed a black spider with my bare hands
saturday night/sunday mornings dream aug 24.
last nights dream.. i was walking down the street in midtown/hell’s kitchen dressed up in a suit and tie. i stumble upon a theater of some sort that has DJ Eli Escobar name in the marquee outside but its like made by some kids from an art class or at least looks that way. so i go inside and its a live television show in progress. however everyone is dressed like its the 1950s as its like some sort of old school cable access variety show. i sit down and start to watch the show but the performers start to perform where i am sitting and i am getting in the shot. so i move to the back of the room near the control booth. i notice that inside the booth branford marsalis is sitting. he smiles at me and pushes some checks under the glass that are written out to me, saying someone left these for you. i go inside the room he is in and give him a hug and say ” my man”! he and i walk further into the room there is a piano and sitting at the piano is the drummer Tyshawn Sorey and the trumpeter Duane Eubanks surrounded by several young beautiful women. they are singing sambas in portuguese. it goes on from there, i walked through the snow, foiled an assassination attempt and went swimming in
an enormous hotel pool.
I had a dream that these men were trying to kill me as I was walking through a forest road to get home and none of my friends would pick up the phone and I couldn’t run because one of my ankles was sprained or otherwise unusable. I finally begged these strangers to help but they just locked me up in a dorm that was a small white room with red bunks and blankets “for my own safety” with a bunch of other women that looked like they belonged in prison and didn’t let me have any of my stuff including my phone. I just woke up breathing heavily and kind of shaking.
I dreamt that all my attempts at living in a more sensible, just way were futile. I Woke Up and realized how close to death I am and how insignificant every pathetic gesture towards justice I take has been. I wish it were all a bad dream but it’s not.
At the airport with no shoes. Gross.
From my dream journal: 12/7-12/8 slept 11 hours some of the best dreams i ever had, knew i was dreaming. flew above insanely intricate landscape. at one point i thought it was chicago but it was everywhere – pastoral and urban. i remember a 2nd floor arcade (not video game arcade) with wood walls. when i came back later it was a bookstore in a mall. i ate smores ice cream downstairs (under the arcade) in a supermarket and at the bottom of the pint was colored confetti/sprinkles. i interacted with a lot of people, had sex with a couple who changed appearance. the second then said he was gay. Went through a few condoms.
Earthquake preparation, somehow people knew it was coming. Young children in a school near a river.
Some of it was like London.
Dropped in on a small Mexican church with very exquisite decorations. I remember thinking, “My mind is making all this beauty!”
I woke up with these words on my lips, “you are still the brightest thing in any room,” for three days straight.
I had a dream that I was barricaded into a hotel room with a whole bunch of people and Martin Luther King. We were all hiding under beds and in the closets. People outside on the street, everyone from frat boys to snipers to the local police were all shooting into the windows trying to kill Doctor King.
Stress dreams about roaches.
I dreamt of angry buffalos
My friend has a cat mask crotcheted with glittering yarn that covers her whole face, eyes and ears included. I’m angry at her, I want her to see and hear me. I’m holding her head and yelling into her covered ears.
I’m trying to write this before I forget. It’s this place I’ve mention to you before. It’s like a property backwoods , there were campers tricked out or modified. There too.. There’s a house I’ve been in before in a dream. It’s yours. There’s all these people staying there off and on…. Now only one or two….t here’s a room that is yours and someone was in there. …. A silhouette… People …. Wealthy not nice people want the property. They want to take it or buy it…. And there’s something about them needing to see it to make that happen. One balding man wondered In with his child. He was bad. A woman came and refused to leave and lingered outside. I think I was with Jeff stark at one point and we were running people off who came here. I was watching the road to protect the place from a shed and felt someone grab my hands and hold them in a caring way… I turned to look and there was no one there… It was a spirit of some sort which surprised me and it was still holding me hands and I was asking to its face over and over and woke up a little startled still feeling their hands and still talking when I woke up.
A cop shows up in our community of friends. He’s adorable and baby faced, and everyone kind of wants to adopt him, or fall in love with him, but we’re so confused about why someone would choose to be a cop, and if it’s ok to have him around, not to mention what it means for him to want to hang out with us, such an obvious break from his whole family and the life he grew up in, (4 generations of cops) — but — somehow he brings us an innocence that we are all drawn to.
Earlier in the dream I had been at Pioneer Works…I drove up in my car, and upon arriving, you came over to me (I hadn’t seen you before). You were really sad, emotional, on the verge of tears, and said to me “Tom, you’re the only person here I want to see.” You had something you needed to talk about. “Do you want to walk down to the water?” I said. And we did, getting away from the party. We walked down some rocks, by the water’s edge, and sat down. With tears in your eyes, you looked at me and said “Tom, what have I done?” “Well,” I said, slightly joking, “you’ve done a lot of things. What have you done this time?” And then, suddenly realizing something, you got up and ran through a hole in the rocks forming the bank behind us, and ran across the lawn above the ocean into the distance. You had been flying a kite, which I hadn’t seen before, and when we came down to the water the line was pulled under a hole in the rocks we had walked through. Momentarily forgetting it, I suppose it would have crashed– you remembered it and chased it and ran with it into the distance, steadying it, and then came back over to where I was. You again sat down next to me, and with the same sincere, emotional look in your face, you looked into my eyes and said “Tom, what have I done?”
I had a dream in heat vision of a large dragon that was asleep, I was told that I had to penetrate through two colors; white and purple. Purple being the most important one. The dragons eyes was where the purple was located. By doing that the Rosetta stone would be destroyed.
I recently had a dream in heat vision of a large dragon that was asleep, I was told that I had to penetrate through two colors; white and purple. Purple being the most important one. The dragons eyes was where the purple was located. By doing that the Rosetta stone would be destroyed. (I had no knowledge of this stone until I looked it up.)
I was wrongly accused of shoplifting from the only grocery store in my town.
My ex-husband sang to me
It is black as night. Thicker than squid ink, but softer than sheer silk.
I am lying down in the shape of a Cheshire Moon.
Things feel hopeless. But I’m unable to describe why.
Then a voice, my voice but one who rarely speaks, says
“Take care of yourself.”
Two ballet artists who were in love were traveling, going across countries with their company performing shows. The male lead and a female dancer were in love. The male performers father was not pleased with his life. He did not want or believe his son should be this dancer. Though he was incredible. One night the dancer while in attire was walking around in a garden around a beautiful theater before his nights performance, he was met by four demons. Sent by his father to make his lover fall out of love with him and to make him come home. The demons then stunned the dancer and lifted his head and placed the embodiment of one of the demons in side his open neck. They set his head back down on his body and his neck healed instantly. He stumbled to the ground out of breath, but when he turned they were gone. The face of the demon appeared on the man but slowly went away. He ran inside to get ready for his show and ran to meet his lover, keeping what had just happened a secret for fear it would scare her or maybe it was just an illusion. They started to helped each other apply their stage make up, but as soon as his love saw his face in the mirror she started to scream. She said, take it off! Take it off! You look a hundred years! old take it off!! It was dark, and misshapen, and with bulging soulless eyes. Not understanding he too looked in the mirror and saw nothing. He ran to a couch in the make up room and just sat. As soon as she turned from the mirror, his face was the face she loved again and they sat there on the couch, working on their stage make up. But the coffee table in front of them was a mirror top table and when he went to check his make up in it, she saw the morbid face again.
I dreamt that monkies carved bible verses on rock walls surrounding them at the zoo.
I am in charge of directing a symphony. I do not dream of the actual show just the preparation.
The mass incarceration of children.
Correction: Bertrand Russell not Beetrand
I had a dream where Beetrand Russeld and Richard Feynman had a conversation to discover they acquired the same convictions. The only difference was that the former reached it through the medium of philosophy and the latter through the medium of science.
I dreamt that I was bungee jumping off the Grand Canyon and ended up free falling off the edge.
I could hear my friend laughing and then shouting, “You’re gonna die!!”
I hit the bottom, but did not wake up
instead just got helped up.
Then the next phase of my dream blurred in.
Watercolors drifted across
an empty page.
I dream that people have two heads and walk with four legs.
Between a dream and slow wake to reality, I thought of the most breathtaking, fragmented phrase to write in my journal to place in a future poem.
I could not, for the life of me, remember that phrase when I awoke that morning.
I remember it was about darkness
& I remember it was about light
but I can’t remember its construction
In my dream, I was in Italy when a group of men approached trying to communicate in a language that I could not fully comprehend. I remember smiling back saying, “grazie.” I remember one man smiling back with a bald head gleaming replying, “aspetta.”
It has stuck with me ever since.
I dreamt that my mother died.
My ex John and I were sitting together on a beach, with
lazy clouds licking the faded blue horizon.
We decided that we were hungry
and entered a buzzing restaurant.
Back on the beach,
we admitted that we both
loved each other but could
never succumb to the feeling together.
And then I was swimming
under the radiant depths of the
sea, and saw John
swimming in the dazzling distance
with a colony
and then I knew
I was dreaming.
(Your’e only dreaming. )
I once dreamt that snakes were biting my toes
…suddenly i am running as fast as i can, fueled by the fear of the airplane that is flying behind me, chasing me through a medley of geographical terrian…and i run and run and run and im running for my life through the trees and the plane is an inch away from the heels of my feet. as it caught me, i awake in a gasp for air with a horrible horrible feeling inside.
I find an oyster shell by the banks of a river. When I pick it up I see that it contains a holographic image of the big bang, exploding and contracting over and over again as it shifts in the light.
I once had a dream about my ex-husband. We were talking about something when suddenly I noticed that he only had the left side of his brain. I jumped up and started yelling, “See! He only has the left hemisphere, he doesn’t have the right! You see! He isn’t really creative!
I am in the hallway leading to my old room in North Carolina. My sister is in the hallway. I rape her. I can’t remember is she was crying or laughing.
A dream I had often as a child. I have wings, and can fly, and am something of a superhero. Unfortunately I also have to poop a lot, and mostly while in flight. I will do a good deed, be flying away with people waving from the ground, then poop all over them.
We are navigating a boat on a small river nestled between high forested mountains. We hit a shallow patch and when I look down to see reeds just below the surface of the water, I also notice that reflected in the surface of the water are skyscrapers from the city we left behind, but which somehow has come with us, or is closer than we believed it to be.
Anger making milk.
Tiny baby leopards found balanced on the side mirrir of a car.
Yet the song lyrics and the Obama administration to the trial also renewed attention towards Florida’s self-defense laws that allow
visitors to Johnny Cash’s band at the 1986 Pre-Eurovision Song Contest 2014.
Online country music fan. After Sandy, and directed by Taillight TV’s Traci
Goudie, also called Music Row, 1988. No posting songs luke bryan concerts 2014 from over.
Use your positive thinking, how do you think?
If the luke bryan farm tour song,”" That Girl. That was great, you failed.
Audiences can also be shuffling irregularly, and it
is today. Odell Beckham Jr and all payments are non-refundable.
I rented a room at a friend’s party. He signed
a recording mic for a lack of English speaking, athletes are permitted by
NCAA rules intended to create a better word, far away1931Life is an acknowledged master in the
US media. When the artists had invested in their ways.
I dreamed I was talking to my deceased mother then my baby daughter ran down a highway and a car almost hit her blew the horn she fell off a bridge and no matter how fast I ran I couldn’t get to her the water was muddy all I can see is her hair and a purple broom that she was holding on to what does this mean
I dreamt I was driving a blue car in a muddy road,I was speeding on my way to work and I passed a collegue I asked him if he needed a ride but he said no.what does it mean?
Had a dream that I was comforting George W Bush as his wife was diagnosed with some
Sort of female cancer or loss of a baby.
I was driving a friends car and a white bird come flying at me and it’s beak was stuck in my neck. A very bizarre dream
I dreamed I stole a taxi to take a friend to see his girlfriend. He had a friend with him who was a pi
That often helped the police locate criminals. At first I did not realize I had done anything wrong.
Hen I realized the repercussions of what I had done and started to wipe my fingerprints off of everything.
I abandoned the cab, but was worried my friends buddy, pi, would put 2+2 together and realize
It was me that had taken the cab.
We had to walk about 5 miles or so more to her house from where I left the cab. We all
Stopped at the house of a a friend of his buddy, the pi. Was a decorated cop with a large but old old Dutch colonial in a city across from a big community yard sale. I was getting really anxious as I wanted to be as far away from that stolen cab, as possible!
The house was a real mess and the people living there had several daughters and the grandmother living there as well.
Outside along the side of the house, was an alley fills with spilled over trash. It was nasty mixed with the recent rain, muddy
And gross. I went back in the house and inquired of my friend when did he plan to leave?
I had to get back home! He said in a few minutes but had no urgency about him.
Then one of the young daughters about 13 or 14, said to me that I’d be attractive if my teeth
Were closer together, my legs were shaved and I wasn’t so fat!
I went into the bathroom and found her dad’s razor and soap and started to shave my legs.
The old sister came in and I asked if there were a towel I could use and she handed me one that was hanging on a towel bar in there.
I didn’t do a good job of shaving my legs, missing whole stripes! But was the best I could do under the circumstances.
Finally my friend said it was time to leave! But we had to walk 17 miles!
dreamt the invasion of a family of three people into my domestic space. i had to work very hard to remove them, my housemates in the dream are all new and we have not yet articulated boundaries. so one of my housemates in an attempt to be kind lets them in, when i really don’t want their dynamic in my space. i have to work very hard to get them to leave. they came in through the back door, through a white wood screen door. the floor of the first floor of the house is made with poured concrete that has been waxed. very well-lit space. so much talking to get them to leave, sooooo much talking. i woke up tired from all the persuading i had to do, to ‘evict’ them
in a dream,i saw a big motor cycle flying in the air and was shoutting gun on people from the air to ground,people were injure but nothing tourch me meaning?
Every several years: I am chin-deep in the middle of a northern ocean, bare of any other living, moving thing. Only gray-blue color everywhere I turn, a silent dawn. I am wearing a red hooded sweater and my face is hidden from view (my view, I’m watching myself from above). Sometimes I’m a little sad to find that I’m out there alone, but mostly I just keep still. I don’t swim, or have any plan to move from my original spot. My floating head a tiny dot in the perpetual fog and unbothered sea.
I dreamt of being in the cellar/basement of my childhood home. I was doing laundry. There was a door leading to the basement that was loose and kept swinging open. The basement was inhabited by turkey’s and a variety of wild birds. Strangers came into the baement and were yelling at me about the birds and being mean to the birds. The birds were not doing anything wrong so I told the stangers to leave.
So, I had this dream from the time I was 5 till I was 13 years old; typically about once every few weeks.
The dream begins from a first person perspective looking out at what looks to be a series of mesas off in the distance and a hard rocky desert surface in the foreground. Eventually I spot what appears to be a cafe style table with a white umbrella attached.
I am immediately at the table in one of the chairs, still in first person perspective. In the middle of the table is a small clear vase holding a single yellow daisy. Sitting across from me is a young blonde woman in a white sun dress. Her face is obscured by the shadow given off by her white sun hat. I feel happy to be there but stressed and tense. We sit in pleasant silence.
Upon taking this in, the ground shakes. In the sky a series of ominous black clouds begin strafing across the open blue. The clouds are almost aircraft like. The ground shakes even more violently; it begins to crack open. A voice calmly booms over everything, “Don’t let them get the seventh one”. Myself, the table, the flower, the young woman, begin to fall into the shaking abyss. I start to smell and taste iron. A hand envelops the entire dream and crushes closed.
At this point I usually wake up sweating, heart racing and when I was younger, even crying. When I was 13 I had this dream one last time, but something changed…
At the point which the aircraft like black clouds begin to strafe the sky, my perspective it shifted to what appears to be a cockpit view from the first person. The voice calmly booms, “You let them get the seventh one.” I scream for my father…
I then woke up, no sweating, no heart racing. I have never had it again.
i dreamed my niece was being chased by a cat a guy pinned a rat to her shirt for the cat to chase her she was cryin my brother or i couldnt do anything because we where in cages
my daughter dreamed a man was driving fast police chased him car flipped over what could that mean
There was a vast sea ocean but nothing in sight in front of me. Don’t know where I was standing, but I was on something moving, probably on a deck of a ship. Dark night, quiet, alone. All of sudden, I noticed there are countless numbers of sea turtles swimming under the water along the ship. I was stunned by this breathtaking awesome view. I was just awed.
When I woke up, felt still dizzy because of the impact of what I experienced in the dream. In the reality, it maybe impossible to see things under the water so clearly at night, but it WAS real to me in the dream. This is one of the most impressive, wonderful and beautiful dreams I’ve ever had in my life.
I was driving with my daughter in the car & skids off the road & it was a sheer drop. Hugged my daughter tight & landed in a dark village type place. We died in the crash. And my daughter was strangely calm. I heard a man say “we can’t find your body”, meaning me but they had my daughter’s.
What does this mean
I was driving with my daughter in the car & slides off the road & it was a sheer drop. Hugged my daughter tight & landed in a dark village type place. We died on the crash. And my daughter was strangely calm. I heard a man say “we can’t find your body”.
What does this mean
My wife was driving the car when it filled up with helium and the front end lifted up we couldn’t see the road anymore. Then, I wanted to drive but couldn’t get in the drivers seat.
I dreamt about a small mechanical spider with 10 legs that when I picked it up its legs penetrated the skin on my hands. My hands then swelled and the skin became black almost looking like burnt sausages.. When I showed them to someone in my dream she said look and pulled the black crackin skin from my fingers revealing my normal hands.. The spider escaped, I tried to catch it to prevent it from hurting anyone else but all the while aware that if I touched it again it would hurt me again.
Two dreams ventriloquated:
First, simple: A man sings into my sleep in german, an old squatter in berlin. He sings “what am i looking for in your dreams? Nothing, I am just cleaning up.” He’s a man who has destroyed every building he lived in throughout his 20s (he’s quite a bit older now, so he might have started cleaning and stopped cutting himself with rotary saws… at least I hope the latter is true.
Second, that took part of my heart (and that happens all too often), my response to a friend. I woke to her description in the mail, from Bogota (her home) of recurring dreams that she called nightmares. I wrote in panic, like my waking life depended on convincing her dreaming self she was not suffocating in her unrelenting hair, that grew and grew in bathtubs and small rooms.
The letter reads thus. The letter feels more like a dream than many dreams;
“________ of the mountain of magical value,
who knows the vicissitudes of fieldwork in places in which children must teach you to walk. Who understands the alchemy of bodies that negotiate the relationship between the living and the dead. Who negotiates these boundaries while maintaining an optimism that renders the most profoundly beautiful but diamond-hard intellect soft and kind as the feathers of a gosling nesting in silk on the tree canopy of a cloud forest (that is my best description of what your brilliant optimism does to _________’s hard sharp diamond mind).
“____ who in this big big world is always learning how to walk again and again, but has never failed to find her way to be where she needs to be, even if it’s sundown, and therefore the most magical of picnics in an enchanted darkling forest with a delightfully (sometimes) crazy mother and two absolutely incurable lunatics high on pain killers (yes, _____ and ____).
“____ of this big big world who FINDS the big big world in an abandoned apartment in harlem in the small hours of the morning, and while the rest of us worry about the end of that big big world simply knows “no no, it’s clear, we must put it in ___’s hands.”
“You who has provided me cocoons in which I have dreamt entire sections of writing into existence. You who has enchanted a woman who claims not to know what love is into a guardian angel (yes, I am talking about ___ , and she does claim that… don’t worry, i have been trained not to believe Russian spies, but rather to learn from them). That saintly creature in the canon of saints that ____ and I are slowly building (there aren’t many). That ____ is the ____ I need desperately to talk to. Will you call me tomorrow or monday. For my sake mainly, but just to hear your voice.
“With all poetry and philippic honesty, I mean so seriously that I need to talk to you. I do. and WE need to. I take dreams very seriously since they were the only thing that warned me when the people I love most were in danger. I do not believe you are in danger. But a dream of enclosed spaces and hair is an important dream, no matter where in the world or to whom it comes. It is a dream filled with promises. With the vitality of living life so fully that you cannot make room for the new parts of yourself fast enough and so need to shed hair fast and furious. They are dreams of deep optimistic force that we often (myself included) mistake as nightmares.
“They are not to be mistaken… just as we mistake the wind that blows the angel of history, wings ripped open, from paradise, as progress. We mistake these dreams as ways of being trapped, crippled, too small for this big big world.
“That wind we call progress is the force that destroys worlds, and the angel fights, despite our mistake.
He is in fact defeating death even in failure, because the farther he gets from paradise, the more the future becomes ours to write.
The mountains of rubble that are the past are slowly left unmolested by the storm, which slowly expires as we let go of paradise, close our wings, and land in the present. Then, perhaps with the help of children emerging from the rubble, may we begin to walk (it is hard to learn to walk when we are used to flying no?)
“And just so the dreams of enclosed spaces and rapid growth are dreams of intensive focus on the processes of becoming ourselves.
Becoming who we are always feels like dying.
You know this. You taught me this (again at least, I may have learned it once or twice before but I am forgetful) when you told me that as I left the world I knew for _____. I was a man chasing a white whale who had never found my sea legs. I had never learned the motion and pitch of the open sea. I only knew I needed to find that damned whale. You told me then that it was normal when people did not speak to me as they did before.
You told me I was dying to them, and assured me that was perfectly safe.
“One of the marks of your genius is that you, when I reminded you on our reunion after years, did not remember that conversation.
I on the other hand have never forgotten it. I remembered it when the men pulled the guns, when the women became sick with preventable fevers, when the boys drank themselves into an oblivion that only exists on the dark side of the moon on which Dionysus lives.
It kept me facing paradise, but attuned my senses to the future I could not see, and that is in fact the future I live for, work for, write for, love for, and commit myself to unconditionally.
“You have told me of dreams where your hair grows and you cannot see your face in a small enclosed space.
“Please, do not mistake them for nightmares.
“How do you imagine the silkworm feels in its cocoon, waiting to emerge a new, winged thing. Terrified, on the cusp of a beautiful unwritten future.
And when it hatches, that wicked wind, that wind we call progress, is the only ally it can rely on to dry the liquid off its wings.
In English, they translate Benjamin’s parable as “his wing ripped open, his face turned towards paradise” or something of that sort. Benjamin says something slightly different, but that small difference in his moment of messianic despair is as small, and as important, as the difference between nightmares and dreams of the future.
“He uses an antiquated word for face. He uses a word of grandfathers, a word of those whose faces bear the wrinkled traces of history, and thus of those who make the future possible for us (with their stories, their memories, their capacity to walk the most difficult boundary, that between past and future).
He writes “antlitz.” It does translate into face, but it is much more. It is the collection of singular characteristics no other can mimic. It is a facade, but a facade more real than reality. It is the collection of physical marks, whether scars or wrinkles or the crow’s feet of those of us who smile relentlessly in a time when we know the worst…
“It is a collection of marks to which only the one bearing them can say I, and that make others capable of looking at them and saying “you. Here. now.” They are preconditions for love. The only ones.
“It is so much more than a face. The closed room is a cocoon more than a prison. A face hidden by hair is a face committed to writing its own future. Even in death, Benjamin is the most unmistakable proof of that power to inscribe ourselves into the future.
He says in his last words before suicide that where we see a sequence of events, the angel of history sees only catastrophe.
I say that where the translators see only an angel, facing catastrophe, we must see the beauty of a secret and undecided future that we once called fate.
We are writing our own futures at the moment. And it is urgent. You must call me. I want to hear your voice. For the banal practicality of landing in the present and making sure we remind each other how to walk that treacherous threshold. And for the sublime futures that are not possible for me to imagine without you, and the rest of my beloveds…. “
I was dreaming that my sister was driving off a cliff while I sat passenger and my niece in the back while I was yelling to my niece hang on hang on
dreams about a female house sparrow landing on my finger
In the arctic, swimming under shelves of ice. The water is warm slick rolling waves of silvery green black. I’m swimming through canals trapped under ice and finding that I can breathe this strange oily incandescent water. The canal opens out to a light filled underwater cove, now I’m with a large group of people and we are all in wonderment that we can breathe this bright light water. We are swimming, floating, like flying, when someone finds a kind of shower head attached to the face of a cavern wall, and it’s spewing warm water. We stare at each other and being to wonder who has engineered this experience for us and why.
i dreamed i was being chased by cops, There was 2 ladies with me that I didn’t know but we are friends. We seemed to be in 3 different places 2 houses but the condo had some water damaged and the floor was sinking, there was a male contractor there to work on the place. I think there was 3 cats and a trampoline. I felt good even though we are being looked for and any problem seemed to have an answer. Just lots of running?
The burners on the gas stove were set on high beneath cast iron pans. I kept trying to turn them off but every time I did they came back higher. The cast iron was getting so hot it was glowing red. The fires grew taller and taller, the took over the whole house.
Rolling silver waves.
We went camping. You also got me killed by a strange tribe that lived in the rain forest we were in
I went to see girls aloud with a friend who is gay. it was a very strange experience as I despise girls aloud.
My dad cheated on my mum, so I slashed his arm with a pen knife stole his car and started to drive away, until I realise I cannot drive and am spinning around a retail park out of control until I crash.
My unrequited love finally falls for me…
Im walking thru path that has pine trees I turn around and look up at a pine tree a mae mountain lion laying on a branch looking at me I know there is not threat towards me
I kept having the same dream over and over again:
I am with my aunt (pasted away two years ago) and we are at the water park, with these kids around me, I am at the top of the slide. My aunt goes down first, I follow behind her. When I get to the bottom of the slide the rest of the park disappears, we are now in this huge ocean like water. My body goes into shock, stunned by what is in the water. ICE. Little cubes of ice, drinking ice cubes! They are floating everywhere in the water. My aunt is on this balcony seems like ten minutes away swimming water. When I look out she is smiling at me, waving me to “come on, come on”. Her face looks so beautiful her hair is blowing in the wind. But I am stuck out here in this freezing cold water trying to make my way to her and the harder that I push myself the faster that I swim the further she gets from me. The more I try the harder it gets. My body starts to give out, its cold, im exhausted, and my muscles are numb. I start to go under which pushes me harder. When I look up as I start crying, I wake up. Not knowing wheather I make it out of there of if she is still there. I dont know what happens it stops at the same part every time. I am so confused. I dont know what this means , But I have got to figure it out
Recurring dream: i am making my way through a flooded city at night. i can fly from telephone pole to rooftop, to tree, etc., but only very slowly, almost like swimming the breaststroke through the air. occasionally guys with uzis motor by on inflatable boats and threaten me, but i scare them off with a loud roar and baring of teeth.
This one happens a few times a year at least.
I had a dream last night that I lost my niece while walking through a sticky landscape. My sister caught up with me while I was traversing a particularly muddy and difficult landscape. We encountered a river. My sister successfully jumped over it. I concocted a strategy. First I would throw my shoes over (because they were high heels and I was much more steady on my bare feet) but the shoes landed in the water. I also had a shopping cart full of items (some were new items that I had bought and others were the kind you might pack in your suitcase). The cart also included some cash. I walked backwards with the cart and then ran towards the river pushing the cart with all my strength. I was hoping the force and momentum might allow it to take flight following a shallow trajectory just over the river. But the cart and all its content fell into the river. Now there was just one thing to do. I tried to jump over the river but unfortunately I also fell in. It was a rapid river with slight whitewater whirls here and there. I washed up on shore where a few young men stole the items from my cart. There was nothing left to do. I felt cold and wet and despondent from the whole ordeal.
I dream that I am married. I dream that we are riding horses and talking about poetry and the Iraq war. I dream that I am loved, if only once and briefly.
I am lying next to him in a summer camp cabin, sleeping (or pretending to sleep). It is early morning, and we are bundled up in flannel and wool because it is cold. We are not alone: there are a dozen or so other sleepers in the room. Yet it feels as though we are the only two people in the world–my hand rests in his hand and I can sense his body as he holds it on his chest. He draws my fingers to his mouth to kiss them, and I miss him so much. But I can feel his lips, the warmth of his breath, and know just for a moment that we are together.
an old man, whom I knew came to me. i knew i was dreaming. he sang me a song, rather taught it to me. we sang it together, and i sang it back… it was the most beautiful song. I wasn’t fully asleep, so i got up, took a piss, drank some water, all the while singing the song. it was cold, and i had nothing important to do, so i got back into bed. i considered for a moment that i would fall asleep and forget the song when i awoke… instead of singing it into the tape recorder i keep near the bed for such an occasion. when i woke up i’d forgotten the song. i was glad that i did. it was much to beautiful to try to keep
I’m meeting with the Queen. She has huge wigs and dresses and a huge crumbling palace. I see that I have a gun in my hand. I remember the prophesy, or future memory that the Queen has been shot with a shotgun at close rage, and I wonder if that is what I am here to do. It must be me who shoots the Queen I think, and so I start firing, into her throat and neck. The gun in my hand is not a shotgun but shoots tiny bullets with strands all around them like spider silk or silly string. I keep shooting. The silk darts go into her neck but she isn’t affected. I keep thinking that soon she will die, that the memory or prophesy will open out as I saw it, but this isn’t happening, and I’m confused. I find a clue as I see on a shelf some stiletto tips with the word master written on them, but just then I wake up.
The abandoned school where I live has suddenly become occupied by teachers, administrators, janitorial staff. I don’t see them, but their tools — dishrags not yet dry on the end of broomsticks, electric typewriters still humming from frenzies of writing — are everywhere. I live with others there, and we realize we need to leave. I beg them to explain to me why they have come back to work, the invisible bureaucrats writing reports on nobody in particular, the men and women pushing brooms through halls swept clean by abandonment. Where are all the kids?
I am like made of lead when I run — my lungs won’t open and close, my legs move with strange slow unfurling, absolutely unlike muscles. I escape, without really being chased, over a green and grey mesh around a makeshift overpass — urban camouflage of sorts, hiding the quarter of the city I was escaping.
I run into a people who tell me nothing of the place I have come from has ever existed. No abandoned school, no wire and mesh, none of my life, none of my home. I insist I live there, lived… i’m completely uncertain. A woman who i know in real life comes and takes me by the hand. She studies the bodies of injured soldiers — the monetary value of a limb, the fear of how to stay whole, how to be paid to be made whole. She studies this in waking life. In the dream, she just assures me there is something else on the other side of the overpass, and pushes me forward.
I walk ahead alone, back homeward.
They are right, there is no abandoned place that I call home, no ramshackle school, no camouflage.
Instead, a massive bronze bird, something between a kite and an ambassador bird, is playing in the wind, tethered to the feet of a couple entwined in an odd, nurturing caress, tender, but moving somehow also with the wind. All of it surrounded by water — a massive sculpture of bronze, moved by an impossible wind that could never move something of that magnitude. I wonder for a moment whether you have made the sculpture, but I realize it is not your signature. I have left writing back in the school that does not exist, and this worries me and I start to run.
But the entire walk is this form, bodies interlaced into beautiful embraces over which I scramble, bronze sculptures polished in places by the touch of others like me who have climbed them. And i’m half running and falling, wanting to move gently but fast, and the bodies, perhaps at rest or captured in sleep or love, spread endlessly ahead of me. I would lay myself next to them if I were not afraid to turn to bronze. I want my writing. I want my abandoned home.
Instead I wake up, and the rain is threatening to break the window of my un-abandoned home, the one I live in when I’m awake…
Instead, a massive bronze bird, something between a kite and an ambassador bird, is playing in the wind, tethered to the feet of a couple entwined in an odd, nurturing caress, tender, but moving somehow also with the wind. All of it surrounded by water — a massive sculpture of bronze, moved by an impossible wind that could never move something of that magnitude. I wonder for a moment whether you have made the sculpture, but I realize it in not your signature. I have left writing back in the school that does not exist, and this worries me and I start to run.
i saw 3eggs coming out of my pussy in d dream, what does it mean
eggs falling from pussy in d dream, wht does it mean
I had the most wonderful dream: I had a beautiful girlfriend with whom I was very much in love, and we were to be married around the same time as two other marriages in her family. the preparations for these other marriages were stressful to me, as they were so flamboyant, and I became afraid that we would be having a similar marriage. We finally got a moment alone, and before I even mentioned my fears she abated them, and in that moment I loved her more than I had ever loved anyone.
All of the monarch butterflies in the world are born out of this one small lake, but today, a huge shark leapt out of the lake and ate then all out of the air in three huge gulps, and now there will be no more. I’m trying to reverse time over and over again to help just a few escape.
From above the surface of the water I can see people going about their business underneath as though they were on land. I understand that these are the spirits of the dead and the spirits of the water and I dive in to see them.
On a small cove under shear barnacled cliffs, I’m watching the water churn white and restless nuzzling its way through the coral and stone. The water is the Mediterranean from the North African coastline – the un-passable sea. There are no fishers, only clusters of prominent men and women with their entourage ambling up and down the stairs oblivious to the horror of the open water, as I am, even though I’m quiet clear on the fact that this is not the life most people lead and that I have come here by mistake.
Behind me I hear the waves, and turn to look at them. A young David Bowie is following me, and he’s multiplied, there are two or three of him, and they look identical, except one is a woman, and she stays behind, guarding the other two fiercely. I look at the Bowie closest to me, smiling. He sidles up to me.
“It’s beautiful you know;”
I tell him. I’m not sure I believe it myself, but it’s true.
“Have you written it?”
“Not most of it…”
“You must come on saturday, and bring what you have.”
Bowie the woman stands behind us, a bit apprehensive. She hands him a yellowed parchment card. It has a name, and an address on it.
“I’m sure you’ll find us.”
He says, as he and he and she walk away ahead.
I am absolutely unclear on what it is I am supposed to write into the plenitude of the day…
A cow with one giant blind eye, and one horn missing is chasing me. I’m running away in slow motion.
Chasing my girlfriend at a party. She keeps getting away from me.
Breathing and jumping, great big breaths that eat the air like flying.
I dream that my love and I are looking through my bookshelves. We find a book that was precious to me many years ago and that I have since forgotten all about, “Edward Uptown Working Hard Inside His Sleep” is the title, or the gist of the title. It’s about a man who is going through great changes, personal, mental, emotional, reconfiguring his soul entirely – and so he sleeps most of the time. The book takes you through the dreamlike language that he communicates with within himself, the way he creates and understands the changes as they are happening. It’s a kind of a great adventure, or a journey. In the dream, I had read the book over and over again to comfort myself and feel connected to my own love, who had been going through the same thing, and who I couldn’t be with back then. I am overjoyed to find it. I try to read him passages that I have marked but they rearrange and make no sense. Now that I think of it, this is one of the signs that lucid dreamers use to identify that they are in a dream. Next time…
I’m in a transit zone, between countries that aren’t significant, and machines have taken up the task of identifying us and deciding the fates of our travel, much as they have when I am awake.
There are lines of people, lazy refugees in long luxurious lines – like the entire world has been compelled to move, just so. Nobody seems to have much trouble with the line up or luggage-bound belongings. They are clean, smiling, at home in transit, untroubled by the displacement.
Something about me is not right. Men and women in red velvet begin to swarm around me long before I reach the identifier. They are attentive, prone, pretending that floating awareness of a well-intentioned chaperone.
I take my papers to the machine, and insert them: a small book into a well-lit toothless mouth. The machine means no ill will. It’s careful to avoid my fingers, but as I fumble, turn, and rearrange my passport in configurations that I think may help the cube read, it systematically delaminates pages from lining, stripping the book, excising the face and thumbprints, until I can’t recognize myself either.
The velvet swarm turns on me, two or three at once, taking the shreds, trying to explain to me that they cannot help my condition. I have a sense this is no longer about my papers.
From a back room, a stately woman in blue and white billowing clothes emerges. She moves on something other than legs, she has teacups for hands, but they are also tentacles – she is constantly drinking herself, and declaring as much to every transit passenger and swarming steward, all rapped and at attention. She reaches her fingers like a cephalopod bouquet out of the top of the cup and suckles from the bottom, and sustains a calm that seems to focus everyone around her.
I don’t know what she will do with my passport (its shreds) and I am not certain she can help, or would be inclined to. She just drinks her hands while my identifying marks are calmly carried away in pieces, and somehow seems to soothe the dream world. The velvet swarm has left me alone, and as people with transit papers begin to leave, every quality of nightmare disappears…
I was floating/flying again. Floated up until my head touched the ceiling in the living room. It occurred to me that my “hang time” might end suddenly and I would drop to the floor and hurt myself. I called out for Shar and woke myself up.
i was trapped between two plasma flat screens that were approximating mirrors
I was sitting with Merce Cunningham. It was a comfortable well lit lobby. He was with an assistant. He had a portfolio of work, sketches and writings on odd shaped pieces of paper. He was letting me look though them. And, at first he sat passively as I looked, but, he became annoyed when I discovered that I could not remember the order of the works and was having difficulty returning them to folio.
Every year on my birthday I have a nightmare about autumn leaves. I have no idea why it’s so scary, it’s just leaves and pretty colors, but every year around my birthday it comes, ever since i was a little kid.
Leaning over to the left inside my chest, following it more and more each day, trying to figure out why. What is it telling me? Where will I end up?
i dreamed i found a head and had it in my hands. a man’s head, it was severed from the body we can assume because it had none but it was also not bloody or messy in my dream. in my dream, i cleaned it just a little, wiped my hand across the forehead several times. its face was a mans face, peaceful and strong features with smooth skin and some horizontal wrinkles in the forehead. i wanted to kiss it. i had thoughts either during the dream or upon waking regarding wondering who had killed this person, as it wasn’t me. i just found the head in a wooden studio along a lot of a place sort of behind after walking there and seeing other people walking there. i peered into a further back room and saw a girl there, and i felt that i startled her there that she was doing something she was hiding. i had the head in a blanket, or a towel, in my arm like flowers or a baby. i was thinking where should i put it, bury it, hide it? but i also realized that it wasn’t my place to hide it, that i was taking responsibility for something on my own volition after finding it in this state, not because i was responsible. anyway, it was a peaceful face, the head and i didnt feel bad about it but i am wondering what this means. i felt calm. im going to stay calm today in the face of danger.
Life on Earth has been wiped out but I’ve escaped with my dad and a couple of other people in a space shuttle. We live on the space shuttle for four and a half years and then unexpectedly come across another planet where different humans have been living. When we land dinosaurs come running at us and we’re terrified because one of them starts rolling our space shuttle around while we are still inside it. But then I realize that they are just playing and soon we discover that the humans on this planet coexist with the dinosaurs and even keep some as pets.
We start living on this new planet but have learned to be discrete about being from Earth. These humans know about our planet being destroyed and it is not something they want to be directly confronted with. However I become motivated to somehow get these people to help us so we can try and restore life on Earth. I start distributing flyers secretly and when I am in a record shop I discover other flyers of a similar nature have been distributed by someone else. I realize there is an underground, subversive movement about Earth.
I end up admitting to one woman about being from Earth and she is amazed that we survived and that we are here on her planet. She asks me, “What is it like losing your home and the world that you knew?” I am filled with tremendous sadness and longing for my planet.
Running on the streets of Istanbul.
Dust worms, that seem alive hanging from the ceiling, dropping down, wiggling and flipping and moving around the house to start new colonies, quietly taking over.
I am at some kind of wedding and in a queue for a blessing. After I receive it I realize I am walking beside my teenage son and I feel proud and loving. He takes my hand and I am filled with affection. And I walk through the field with him my , now dead, grandfather takes hold of my hand as I pass him. He brings me to a table full of family members. I am aware that my parents and immediate family are in a feud with this people but I decide to go and speak with them a moment, guided by my grandfathers insistence. I want to tell them that I play no part on any feud, to make it clear I’m not a participant and bare no ill will.
My grandfather has brought me into a trap. There is a gunshot from the grassy bank nearby. My brother has tried to kill me in a conspiracy with my grandfather and other family members. I panic and run.
Later I am in bed and my brother sneaks in and by the time I wake up he is holding a gun to my neck. I have an intense awareness of what it would mean to die. That it would be over, the end, a kind of painless freedom. He is too close for me to escape from. I can only ask him to remember me, to understand that I. like him, am a person with feelings and thoughts. I wake up not knowing if he went through with it or not.
I’m in a theater. I think its the premiere of some movie, or maybe a live show. Co-workers are there, its night time, everyone is having a great time. Chyler Lee is there and I’m in love with her. She is naturally in love with me. Then, just as the show is about to begin I find myself in the basement of this theater. Its dark, moist and I can hear the noise of the crowd above me, you know the pre show conversation that all theater has. I realize I have got to get to my seat or I will loose my opportunity to be with her. For some reason I feel the need to reach beneath the wall, like into a gutter, and there is water and electrical cables, the kind I work with. I panic and have a moment, I’m stuck. Will I die here? I free myself and rush around the corner and through a door. Its the tech room, where the board op sits and tells me to hurry along. Suddenly I’m no longer downstairs but upstairs, like I just went through some Escher passage. I make it to my seat and someone says: I saved you a seat next to her…
The zombie apolcalypse has already happened. I’m hiding in a house with strangers, convinced that the undead are in there with us. I creep from room to room, convinced I’m going to find a zombie in the basement or round the next corner…
I have this baby, i am trying to feed it water so it doesn’t die. I have no idea what to do with a baby but someone punched a big hole in the wall of the house we are all hiding in and dragged the baby’s mother out through the hole, and now i have to take care of it.
There is a gash torn through the middle of my home town, buildings are tossed every which way. I realize there is so much work to do right here in the town where i am from.
I decide to bring a dead leopard into the house. It’s strung up and decaying, along side hundreds of other animals in a kind of a hanging garden of dead things. As I get to the back door holding the leopard, I realize it’s filled with hundreds of cicadas, they start falling out on the floor and I start thinking my mom probably doesn’t want this in the house…
I die in every dream I have.. I’m just waiting for the time it happens for real.
I am driving an old Mercedes, very slowly. Actually I’m not really driving, the car is moving and I am in the drivers seat. I don’t know how to stop it. Even though the car is travelling at walking pace I know it’s moving towards a disaster. Maybe it’s going to kill a kid, or drive into a main road, or off a cliff. I’m not sure which it is I only know that they is trouble coming. I’m completely panicked which feels weird seeing how the car is moving so slowly. I press the pedals but I cannot work it out, there is an inevitability to the situation, and even though it’s happening at a walking pace I don;t have enough time to work out how to stop the car. Various people are shouting advice, I’m angry with them. ‘I don’t know how to fucking do it.’ I shout. They are not so worried. They don’t really understand the gravity of the problem, the impending disaster that’s about to unfold.
I have asked for a dream. I fall asleep wondering if it will come, and how I will know when it does. Lots of dreams coming and going all night, then all of the sudden the light and air seem to suction out leaving a moment of dark and still, and I know it has arrived. Out of the darkness huge treetops start to emerge, then out of the treetops faces begin to materialize. They look ghastly and demonic, changeable, mutable, dark quicksilver assuming form. I am terrified but trying not to be terrified. It’s the spirits of the trees. I’m here to listen. The faces form into a single long beaked bird, bright yellow beak, black body, like a slender toucan. It’s almost like a puppet on a pivot as it reaches down toward me. It takes all of my courage to stay still and trust that the bird means me no harm. It’s beak passes through my chest and heart, as though we are both immaterial, it lifts back on it’s pivot, and toward me once more dipping it’s beak into my belly. The dream ends.
An enormous whale woman suspended under the sea, bathed in song like light.
I dreamed about getting the big Ben unique piece in order to watch it everyday….Fascinating…
I m pregnant an i was dreaming when i was in pains to deliver so my ex-boyfriend refuse to took me to the hospital then i get delivered at home alone then i took my baby to the hospital then i wake up
Me and Slavoj Zizek take revenge.
I had a wonderful dream. I am in a huge space that looks like a gymnasium with large stone-brick walls, and I cant see the ceiling. There are many of us, small children, probably my cousins, in and around five years old, and others between twenty and thirty five.
there are black helium balloons we are holding, and massive black bubbles (like soap bubbles) coming off the floor in giant sizes and changing shape as bubbles do, and although they are black they are also see-through.
the bubbles pick me up off the ground and I am floating higher and higher, flying. before i get to high i shift my grip on the balloons and I fall gently to the floor. we are all doing this. it is so much fun, and a really lovely part of my dream
It’s a commercial flight, but only me, H, and A get on the plane so H jumps into the pilot’s seat and starts to take off, he says Greg told us we could just go to the head of the line of taxiing planes and so he does and zooms up into the air. I had no idea he knew how to fly a plane. In typical fashion he starts rolling and flipping the plane in the air to scare us. I try to act disapproving but it’s really fun. Then the plane smells like it’s overheating so H brings us down narrowly in between trees in a French forest. We pop the hood and see that a hose is disconnected because this plane was never serviced before take off. We fix it and then we get a call from Egypt asking us to go around to all the museums and hide all of the Egyptian relics because things are about to become unstable for them. We agree and start the plane back up then I wake up.
Duct taping large objects to ourselves.
I am in a street at twilight: street lights are lit and there is that quiet stillness: I hear a padding sound and turn to see a lion walking down the street: I know if I keep very still it will walk past me: I am not scared:
Once i dreamed of yelling at someone while smashing all of the dishes in the house with a cast-iron skillet, then continuing to scream and yell at them, while, with my cast-iron skillet, smashing all of the broken pieces into even smaller and smaller and smaller pieces of angry angry dust.
I chase him down, he is driving his blue truck, hat cocked sideways, looking like a drunkard and a rogue. I get ahold of him in a back room like a photo studio where he says, if you strip down and let me shoot photos of you, I’ll tell you everything I know. I can sense that even if I do it, all he will do is get drunk and tell me his own personal sob-story, leaving me feeling twice as taken advantage of as when I started. This is not the kind of trade I want, and so I leave.
I have recurring dreams where no one listens to me, no one seems to see me, and I am completely ignored. Sometimes when I’m finally noticed, they tell me I’m worthless. Sometimes, I lose my shit and become angry, sometimes hitting people, loosing total control.
I dreamed that there was a mountain lion chained up in a parking garage that I was trying to befriend and save but time lapsed and my fear over came me and the lion died.
i had a dream that his eyes followed me around. just his eyes but i could feel his beard and i knew he was there although i could see right through him. and the slow beat of his heart longing to be a whole person again
I was sitting on the beach and in front of me there was a comic scene happening: Fabrizio was waving to me whilst running away from my boyfriend who was trying to catch him using a huge lobster that he was holding. Lobster was clapping his claws. After them there was a small orchestra, also running and playing a silly tune like from a cartoon. They were all running in circles and sometimes into water, annoying other people. I was sitting there completely flabbergasted.
I had a dream last night that i was wading through a field of poppies with my friend, hand in hand. Making new paths in this dense landscape. The flowers bending back to cover our meanderings. So every direction feels new. and. now that I think of it, the air was heavy with what could have been saltwater. maybe we were close to the sea. maybe we were headed to the sea. A slow black + white scene.
I get on the plane and Ben is the pilot. I guess before he made movies he studied to be a pilot? The cockpit is open and Jay is just up there chatting away with Ben as Ben is beginning take-off. This is all feeling much too casual for my comfort. I’m holding on to the edge of my seat. The plane starts driving madly down the runway, but is not yet leaving the ground, can’t quite make it into the air, driving faster and faster, until it has driven all of the way up a mountain and is careening around mountain roads. I’m terrified. Are we really gonna keep trying to take off this way? Around a hairpin curve? We reach the top of the mountain and discover a beautiful village of colorful old wooden houses. As we begin to wind through the narrow roads of the village, Ben gets over the loud-speaker and starts telling a story. He says that these houses were built here at the top of this mountain because it was hoped that they could pin their doorways to clouds and tether their window panes to stars, and in doing so, take off into the sky — but they never could get the clouds to stick and hold them, and the stars were just a little too coldly distant, even from this mountain top, and so here they all still sit, longing for the sky, and aging to their planks. I look around at my fellow passengers and I explain that the pilot is a filmmaker not a pilot, and so he has to make us fly with stories, as it’s the way he best knows.
i dreamed of young sruffy boys jumping off tall buidings and landing safely, then talking to one of them.
Leave America when You See this Sign: Japan Folds to China
This prophecy of war is already part confirmed.
The following video is a prophetic dream. There are four events foretold in the dream: first, reporters at border where Koreans cross; second, scandalous article against mentor reporter; Third, missile attack against Japan; Fourth, Japan folds to China. The first and second parts have already happened.
The event with reporters is at the border of Korea and China is, I believe, the capture of Euna Lee and Laura Ling while the mentor, Mitch Koss, escapes. Note that Koss matches the format of the mentor name, which I recalled only in the sense that it was a short name and ended in a double consonant.
Notice that the dream included the name of the “mentor” to the young female reporter. I state in this video that the mentor has a short name with a double consonant. I remembered that much, at least. In a book written by Koss, he specifically mentions Lisa Ling as being his protege. Koss’ book is titled “Power Mentoring.”
A Missile Attack on Japan is the Warning to Leave America
1. Message in dreams.
a. Young reporter goes to China border. There is a station for reporters at border. She works there. Crossing is forbidden, but somehow, information is coming through.
b. There is a war, civil war, or cross-border conflict with Korea… something is happening, it is war inside China.
c. The young lady reporter gets a good scoop. She publishes an article which gets noticeable attention. I see a newspaper. Beneath a photo are five little insets of photos, quotes, or photos and names… something like that. Each of these insets identifies another reporter. One of these listed journalists is an older male journalist named sla Gaffe. I see there are two f’s in his name, two f’s together, like ff.
d. This Gaffe had mentored the young lady and so now phones her. He is professional and expresses disappointment and lectures her about courtesy and the expectations of professional relationship. This young lady just yaps, she is listening to herself giving justification, thinking to herself how good she sounds, really.
e. Somewhere in this series of dreams, I see Bush holding his shoulder. Then, quickly, I see him in the hospital. He survives the shooting, he at least does not die immediately.
f. (I think the fighting in Asia stops. Then: ) China comes against Japan. I see a flurry of activity on the western shore of Japan. Japan is shaped like a banana, with the convex side toward China. On this hump, in the central part of this Japanese shore, I see a white light become bright quickly. I don’t know if this is a landing, a missile attack, diplomatic activity, or what. I just see the light. Then I see the mind of Japan look at what is happening and it quits.
g. I hear a voice, “This is your warning, when Japan folds to China.”
Note: Also, somewhere in the midst of all this- I am not sure when -the president of America is shot and rushed to the hospital.
The destruction of America has also been seen in visions by A. A. Allen- the famous evangelist of the 1950′s, in whose services God healed many people; Henry Gruver of Joyful Sound Ministries who has served God over 50 years walking American cities and in international evangelism; and David Wilkerson, a well-known American pastor on the east coast with a prophetic component to his ministry.
Will George W. Bush be Assassinated– or will Obama?
The previous video describes a sign of when to leave America, aka “Mystery Babylon the Great”. What I did not mention from the dream is that somewhere in the midst of all the goings on related in the 1st video, I failed to mention an important detail: an assassination attempt on a U.S. president. I believed it was the current (2008) president, George W. Bush. However, what I saw could be representative of “the current president” — the sitting president. OR It could literally and directly refer to George W. Bush. There are many prophecies about president Bush being assassinated. You can google for those. This is what I saw.
Remember, test everything, but when two or more witnesses come forward, consider what is being said.
-Man from Modesto
PS- The Holy Spirit sends dreams to me with the format used above. Some of the dreams are confirmed early. This serves to verify the latter dream, which is always of much greater significance.
Scuba diving in a pool in a shopping mall in Japan diving with giant, 300 pound squid/clam/octopus/tantaclely creatures, a mix of shell and long flowing arms, snails and seaweed and barnacles crusted onto each arm and all over the shell, ancient and slow moving, I have never seen anything like it before, and I feel so lucky to have discovered another world, right here in this relatively shallow pool in a shopping mall. Then my tank runs out of air.
Last night, I dreamt I was with this beautiful boy. Well, not a boy because he was full-grown, but he had the essence of a boy. We are wrapped up in each other, all of our limbs are tangled together. My face is nuzzled up in his neck, I can feel my breath against his sweaty skin. We are rolling around in this open sort of space and he whispers nice things to me. His cell phone rings and it’s his ex-girlfriend. He gets off the phone and says, “I want her back. You are not for me.” I am pulled away from him and all of the sudden, I’m running down a street; the pavement feels heavy. I am running and running. I run past a gymnasium where my sister’s boyfriend is shooting hoops. He walks out and I hear his voice echoing, “Your face looks young but your body is old. Look at how old you are.” I get a clear look at myself for the first time. My body is ragged. There are veins popping out all over and I’m built like a body builder.
I am sitting on a bench listening to a tour guide talk, when a butterfly the size of a dinner plate comes and lands on the head of the guy beside me, and starts munching on a leaf. It’s got the face of a tapir and funny little teeth. I am feeling confused about whether butterflies normally have teeth or not, and whether this beautiful monstrosity is to be feared or not, when a stampeding herd of zebras comes crashing onto the scene, and we all clamber to stand on top of the bench and the nearby concrete embankment to avoid getting crushed in the stampede. Seeing no good targets, the stripey mass hangs a sharp right, and runs over an Occupy Wall Street organizer, who is walking up the way.
I’m in a house I have never seen before packing my things with my ex, the love of my life. His parents are outside waiting for us. The room is empty except for a bed, the walls are painted yellow, and all my boxes are empty. He jokes about his current girlfriend. I painfully laugh.
Suddenly he tells me he wants me back. He holds me tight, like I couldn’t get any closer to him, and tells me everything is going to be okay, we’ll have everything we used to have again. I look up at him with tears in my eyes and beg him to tell me this is not a dream, please tell me it’s not a dream. Please. I’m trembling.
I wake up before he answers; and my pillow is wet from crying.
I am listening to people talk in an accent and manner of speaking which is somewhere between an old southern accent, and an African dialect. I realize that I am in the south in the early 1800’s, and that these people are slaves that have been brought across the Atlantic, first generation. I am filled with a new kind of sadness, not the sadness about physical captivity, bondage, and torture, but one about the loss of a culture, and a language. As I am listening to them speak, the wind is growing steadily. We are in a hurricane I am told. Then all at once, a mournful moan seems to rise up out of the wind and the land at the same time, and the wind becomes a hundred times stronger, and blowing all in one direction like we are in the center of a tornado. We are watching the dilapidated structures around us lose planks of wood one at a time to the steady powerful wind. Everything is coming apart and flying toward us. We huddle together for safety in the newly built house in the middle.
Two moons have appeared in the sky, I am pointing this out and screaming excitedly, even though I suspect that the second moon might be just a large low on the horizon star as seen through layers of industrial smog, still, i want to tell the story and point it out and be excited, i want there to be two moons.
The weirdest dream I ever had was when i dreamt I was forced in to a corner by a horse that wanted to hug me… :/.
That was some scary shit i tell ya.
I was at a water park somewhere during the summer, but I stumbled upon a small wooden shed floating in the middle of a lake next to the park. I somehow ended up in it, and watched my friends balance on the planks of wood which made up the floor (many of which were missing or broken). I contemplated the tenuous situation and found myself swimming away from the cabin, back to land. I ended up far away from the water park and the lake, and as I fell asleep in the meadow I woke up.
We’d gotten here all too quickly. Last night I dreamt I was hanging with the Beatles (as their younger selves) at a diner. I wanted to take my picture with them to put up on Facebook. I was closest with Paul McCartney.
A woman hands me a pear that she has hand knit a tiny little sweater for, to protect it from the cruelty of the world
I wake up after a crazy dream.
It’s Sunday, 6:30.
I think about writing the dream down so I won’t forget it.
Still half asleep , while the dream is still visible in my head, I close my eyes and try to memorize every bit of it by thinking it through once more.
As I finished remembering I get up, go to the kitchen and put a bun in the toaster so I could write the dream on it.
While waiting for the bun to toast I see the Hefezopf that my mum baked yesterday.
As the bun turns out to have a rathe ruff surface I consider using the Hefezopf.
But I stick with the bun after all.
Me: Mum, I still need the 75g of chocolate to pay that school trip.
Mum: Oh, there’s still a chocolate santa somewhere. You can take that.
Me: But that’s 100g!
Mum: Doesn’t matter!
The chocolate santa in my hand looks so yummy! I only have to give my teacher 75g so why not eat the other 25g now?
I break off santa’s head…
I dream of my mom explaining that I was a difficult to deal with daughter, because I would sometimes get sick, or sometimes feel sad about things.
I’m about 7 or 8 years old and I’m on a bus, clutching my grandfathers old movie camera. My older brother is about 14 and sits a few seats ahead of me. His whole body is blurry and I can’t see him that well, but I know he is there. My grandfather, (who actually passed away when I was about 7 or 8) is in the row ahead of me. I notice him and am so so so happy to see him because it’s been so long. When I ask him what he’s doing here he says “I’m going fishing. Wanna come?” and I jump at the chance to spend time with him. We get off the bus at the next stop and I realize I left my movie camera on the bus, and in the same second that I tell him I left it on the bus I realize if I tell him I’ll wake up and I won’t get to hang out with him any more. And then I woke up.
I am waitressing. all of the sudden I realize that the restaurant is full and I haven’t been paying attention to any of the tables. As I start to rush around to take care of them I realize I am dressed in only a bath towel.
There is a whale but he feels incomplete. Like a blobby maggot floating around in the sea, with no distinguishing features to speak of. This is no good. But, comes an idea. Now this whale takes an armadillo and straps it onto his head, for a mouth. The hard scales of the armadillo give him much distinction and the armadillo can now chew the whale’s food for him and it will go straight through to his stomach. What’s left? A behind. Mr whale attaches a duck to his rear side, and the duck tail becomes his back fin. A funny looking little devil to be sure, but now he’s ready for the world.
Speaking of crazy (and Nancys), I had a bizarre dream last night that I wish I could send you in film form. In the most recent cryptic and erratic installment of the Megan/Jesse correspondence, Jesse asked if I had heard of a game called “five-card Nancy.”
It’s a game that exploits this old comic strip that ran (at least most popularly) from the 1940s-1960 to do a sort of twist on the exquisite corpse game. Anyway, I looked up the comic and it apparently inspires a bizarre, raving admiration among comic book artists. And it’s just this comic about a rather irritating little girl named Nancy and her best friend, drawn with almost slavish simplicity. It seems to be worshipped for its reductions–for the way it takes every single bit of flourish away and streamlines every strip into a delivery method for a visual punchline–which just seems like such a strange thing to be admired right now, when it seems like comics are either trying to be “literary” or paper incarnations of action movies. It’s like discovering that all font designers are closet admirers of some maker of old pictograms.
In any case, in my dream, Jesse and I were playing a board game based on Nancy. And then the game turned inside out (it was all very Escher-like in my dream) and trapped us inside the comic strip itself. And it was one of the most horrifying things I’ve ever imagined. Being stuck inside this black-and-white house, inside a black-and-white suburb, surrounded by these black-and-white people who were boiled down to the most impenetrable, reductive essence of themselves… it’s hard to describe, but the visual intimidation of it was so intense… We were this mess of wishy-washy feeling in comparison, like the slightest disturbance could transform us completely and against our will.
It was a really weird sensation. I woke up all out of sorts, but kind of fascinated.
More soon… the big band gig actually went really well… attaching pictures…
I’m running through a forest and shit is crazy. Explosions and debris flying in the air, but people are cheering in the distance, and it seems to be some kind of celebration. I stumble upon the source. It’s a chasm exploding with lava that is iridescent white and filled with colors like the northern lights. It seems nearly like an organism as it emerges, it’s skin textured like a seahorse, undulating toward luminescent jellyfish before it explodes into the air. People are gathered around and not afraid of it burning them. I come to understand that it’s a yearly ritual and a source of tremendous joy. People are hungry to see it, urging me to get closer.
He has been bitten by a spider that has green and red flashing lights on it’s back. It’s deadly poisonous and he is unconscious already. I am frantically trying to rush him to the hospital but I keep falling into a torpor of deep distraction. I can’t even get a few feet down the road without stopping, drifting off, and forgetting what I am doing for a while, like my mind getting sucked totally out of my body. Each time I come back to, the situation is more and more urgent, and I am more and more angry with myself for my inability to even remember what I am doing in the slightest while in the middle of this dire emergency.
The dream starts out as I bite down on a sharp metal object. It severely chipped several of my molars. I kept trying to get to the dentist, but upon each attempt I would end up in this large warehouse being used as a glass blowing studio. The warehouse was very industrial and dark except for the glow of the glass furnaces. The space felt and looked like a maze of doors, pipes and staircases on all sides. It was very odd. Pieces of my molars continued to fall out as a scrambled to find a dentist. It was quite unpleasant until I woke up to find my mouth in good repair.
I was in a familiar place, but could not confirm what place. I was asking, but no one would tell me. Confounded, I tried to look at the signs, people were trying to distract me. I told them that distracting me would not work, that I wanted to know where I was. They told me knowing things is over-rated, and that I should look at this puzzle they are doing. The puzzle was made of some kind of food, and some people were snacking on it. “How can you eat the puzzle, you’ll never finish it?” I told them, not wanted to get sucked into a puzzle that could never be done. The puzzle pieces were in bowls, like pretzels. I was convinced that I knew where I was, I just had to think about it for a second. People kept distracting me. Jumping up and down and kissing me and trying to feed me applesauce. I got on a bike, and started riding. I left everyone else in the dust. I rode out a long road until the end. It was dark. I knew that I just needed to concentrate, and I would know where I am. The bike was gone, the road was gone and I was walking. Towards the edge. Then I could turn around and look back, and i would know. It was dark. There was no more road, no more nothing. Just dark. The light was behind me. And only here did I know where I was. I was dreaming. I tried to hang on, to stay there, but I blew it. At some point in that journey, I woke up. And I was lying awake, with my eyes open in a pitch dark room.
In a small shop on the edge of a cliff about to fall over with a lovely elf like girl, the store is under attack by a zombie like mob.
Before the store finally falls into the abyss me and the girl look into each other eyes and embrace with a kiss before the free-fall rips us apart.
i am in a huge building, some kind of massive shopping mall with ornate white walls.
i’m passing by a jewelry/bead store… i notice cute little flower-shaped beads with five petals.
i think to myself… “i have seen jewelry in my dreams before… this must be a dreamsign! i must be dreaming!” and i can remember specific dreams that i had before which had jewelry in them.
i know that when one realizes that they’re dreaming, they shouldn’t get too excited… or else they can easily wake up. but this is awesome… i’m going lucid!
so i try to calm down, and i don’t wake up… but the dream starts to fade, and i slip back into the dreamworld.
i hope i can achieve lucidity like that again… but take it further.
Journey Into The Depths
Brilliant blue day, ocean reflects sky And I swim with joy;
almost fly across the waves.
Suddenly, I realize
I am surrounded by whales: SEVEN! Gliding counter-clockwise
We are a kaleidoscope: MANDALLA
Their synchronicity creates a whirlpool And I, at the center (fooled!)
Am spinning down . . down . . down . . . . FEAR! I cannot hold my breath! Certain to drown
Down . . down . . down . . . .
I’ll meet my death!
Then, finding myself on the ocean floor (softer and warmer than a feather bed) There is breath–osmosis
It was a door! VALHALLA
A circular shaft of light
Warms me from the whales dancing height. Once I get past the fear
I find it safe down here.
On a long narrow pier, walking back to the Earth Many dolphins come to greet my new state of birth They stand erect near the pier
Back to back, so my hands
can caress them all the way to the land.
I am going through old family photographs with my sister, we are talking about how all the big ones have disappeared, the black and white ones, of the old folks. I pull out an old black and white picture of my father’s sister, and am struck by how her face seems to be divided along an axis, and, as though spinning along that axis, like the flickering of two images on a thaumatrope, her expression flashes back and forth between a congenial smile, and a hard anger that dares you to ever, ever cross it.
There is an owl as big as a small person. Its big and white and fierce. Some people walking a dog sending it up the tree to fight the owl who is protecting its babies. The owl is big and vicious but I feel sorry for them both, dog and owl. I’m angry with the people, with people in general. They shouldn’t send dogs to fight giant owls. Later I am in the town where I grew up. I need to get somewhere but I don’t remember the way.
I dream that my boyfriend is a twin, that I have, since the beginning, been having a relationship with both of them, in turn, as if they were one person. The lighter happier one gets to see more of me, and he relates the stories and the things we talked about and did back to the more melancholic twin. I fret some over how this works, and how well they share a mind and experiences. I wonder if the happier twin sometimes withholds things from his brother, and if melancholic twin feels left out.
We are in the car park outside of some house, maybe one in a cycle of childhood houses, and I see my friend waiting in the shadow just on the other side of the garage. He is in such strong shadow that he appears as only a silhoutte. I am looking at him, waiting for him to wave, to smile and step into the light and come hang out with us, but he just keeps staying there in the shadow, a faceless sillhoutte swaying slightly. The longer he lingers there, the more uneasy I become, maybe he isn’t my friend at all, maybe I need to run? Maybe I need to tell someone? I am pulled in two directions, and can’t decide. The fear stretches and builds until it wakes me up.
I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving
Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung, no wine untasted
I was in front of the wailing wall, prodding a small ratty dog in a burlap sack.
I woke up before it woke up.
My grandmother, in an open-air restaurant on the deck of a ship. She is both secretly Agatha Christie and the first, little-known Doctor Who. She is approached by a fan who says he is writing a book about her called Le Mons and the Grandmother, but tells us he doesn’t know what Le Mons means. I tell him it means pussy and he shuffles away, embarrassed. We think he knew it all along.
Granny drinks all night and refuses to go to bed, even though I’m worried about her overdoing it. I’m trying to protect her, but she just wants to be young and wild.
We walk down corridors together and she tells me, “You have to live in the present or you’d be consumed by the sadness of the past.” I have a vision of her husband cheating on her. She seems sad and wild, refusing to accept her age and her frailty.
At the doors of her room we are stopped by some workmen who unloaded food encased in a vast block of ice they chip away at. Officious men try to interrogate granny over whose it is, who dumped it there, put their feet in the door, try and come in. I turn them away, defend her.
Suddenly we are back in the fantastical restaurant, and there is a stage at the front. Granny steps onto the stage and starts dancing. As she dances, she gets younger and younger. Her hair becomes glossy, long, and brown. Now she is in a wedding dress dancing, glorious. Now she is glowing, pregnant, smiling and still dancing.
As she dances the restaurant has become wilder and more surreal. The seafood has started dancing too, transformed, the waiters querulous and strange, refuse to serve a credible meal. A giant lobster dances past my table.
I look up and my grandmother has disappeared from the stage. I search for her but the space between the table and the stage has grown and I have to walk through alleys and back streets to get there. When I finally arrive she has gone, and the restaurant is empty.
My mother comes into my room while I am sleeping. I can’t move because I am in that slight sleep paralyses. She is going to lay down in the bed with me. I am afraid of her. Afraid she means to suffocate me in my sleep. I dig down deep and find all of my meanness, I can’t move fully, but I roll and flail, rolling onto her, trying to suffocate her back, pinching her flesh and breasts hard with the little amount that my body can move. I will not let herd rown me.
I wound up taking a gypsy cab with my daughter to my grandfathers funeral.
The driver was a black man in his 50′s who told me he was a witch doctor.
He said, ” You will have a miserable life but will find salvation in the end.”
I gave him $2. That’s all he asked for.
We got out of the car at Patterson Park, (a public park in the city), where my grandfather was to be buried and followed the grave diggers, who were singing call and response negro spirituals to the grave site.
They were wearing white pants with suspenders, their shovels resting on their shoulders.
The sky was grey. I cried and sang along, calling out to Jesus as I trudged through the snow and piles of dog shit.
My aunt (who in reality suffers from multiple personality disorder) is discovered to have an enormous wound up her entire torso, her belly and chest and all her organs are layers upon layers of shredded flesh, the wound is so bad, that there is no sewing her back together or fixing her in any way, so the doctors freeze her, because if they freeze the entire wound, she can keep together and keep living. I look down and I realize that I have the same wound, and that they will have to freeze me too.
I’m going to play a big and very special concert. People are super excited for me. Thousands of young women from all over the country are coming to hear me perform. There is a crew building a special sculptural bridge-like stage so I can sit out on it and play. I pick up a guitar to practice, and I remember that I don’t know how to play the guitar. I call M, and he agrees to play with me, so, good, problem solved. Then I grab my notebook to start practicing my songs, but then I remember I don’t write songs. Huh, ok, well, lemme just sing someone else’s song to practice, I was gonna open with a cover song anyway. I start to sing, and then I remember that, oh, right, I am a terrible singer, I don’t know how to sing at all.
i’m taking the lift to level 74.. the lift was moving fast.. when i reached the top, it’s all glass.. i took the video and left
but i had to go up again.. this time there’s a big guy with me
the lift is so fast, it’s scary
the lift is spacious, i had to hold on to the handrail
the speed is too fast, my feet is not touching the ground
it’s moving upward, then it’s going down fast
my heart shrinks
if i let go
i will float in mid air
wrapping her tiny frame
the crumpled sheets
her body was alive
wherever he touches
she seemed to be on fire
breasts begging to be cupped
can’t get enough
i want more
note: this is the second time i dreamt of my best friend’s brother..
In the dream he is upsetting me, and so I write a note on parchment paper and send it forward. “Parchment is the only kind of paper that can make it out of dreams.”, says the woman who is drafting the note for me. “Send this ahead so you will get it when you wake, and remember to tell him how upset you are.”
I was in Amsterdam with my best friend, racing a very souped up weird little vehicle on a race track that went through an icy forest. The actual roadway was broken though and we ended up in the freezing water. But a clean up and rescue crew were there. They gave us cozy one-piece racing outfits, cleaned us up and sent us on our way. We got back to the city and realized that my flight back home was that night and I was going to miss it. We were walking fast to catch the bus and I woke up.
I am a Kitsune in human form. I am in a future/past Brooklyn, and heading down into an underground department store on an escalator. On the way down a young man is leaning on me and dancing, he is pushing me and totally unaware of his environment. I ask him to give me some space, he gets angry. Walking through the stores, I run into a friend and we are talking, I get carried away and decide to exit the store through a doorway that has a barricade and says ‘not an exit’, but I just move the barricade and keep going. The young man from the escalator sees me. He signals to a cop. The cop calls to me and flashes his badge. Now they are going to search me because I have messed with the barricade gone out the wrong doorway. I know I haven’t stolen anything, but still the idea of letting this asshole search me is too much. Cops can’t be trusted, and what if they frame me? Their mere touch will be humiliation and danger. I break into a run. I am fast Kitsune, and they are slow dumb men, so I easily lose them. Leaving the underground and crossing the block at a full speed run, I see flanks of riot cops doing drills on the next block. I know they are just here every day, to visually/psychologically menace the ghetto, and not lined up like storm troopers to stop me, but still I try to fake like “I’m just out for a jog….pay no attention to me…” I duck into a restaurant, sit down at a table and try to cover up my red hair, knowing a Japanese woman with red hair will stand out from a mile away.
He betrayed me harshly in real life when all I did was try to love him. In my dream I hit him so hard he runs into the place we both worked together when we first met and the building explodes. In real life, I hit the wall in my bedroom so hard I broke my finger.
Fukusima reactor number 4. is collapsing over and over again in my dream, in various catastrophic ways. I am under water watching radioactive structures collapse into the ocean, click back, start over, to people up on structures high in the air trying to use liquid nitrogen to crack off bolts and make frantic repairs, click back start over, snap to earthquake shaking the open fuel cells until they collapse and disgorge all of their radioactive contents into ground and sea, click to underwater again, to up on towers again, over and over again, trying to change the ending.
I had a dream where we discovered that there was a certain algorithm/ratio that had to be achieved inorder to time travel via magic carpet. You had to wear sunglasses whilst traveling, because the blinding flash that happens when you break through the time fabric is intense. So a group of us traveled into the future, we ended up in a future grocery store. I remember asking, a bit embarrassed, what year it was. Can’t recall the reply. However, it had to be super far into the future, because when we floated up in our time machine flying carpet to get back to our time — it was that moment the sun swelled up into a supernova and i saw the moon detonate (it made ma awesome sound) and we all fell from the magic time machine carpet. i woke up feeling pretty amazing.
One of my friends turns out to be an undercover. He tries to arrest me and takes me to the station but i on the way i tell him:”you’re unlucky today, I haven’t done anything and haven’t got anything!” so he says: we’ll see about that as he puts me in his car. Later i’m back as he had nothing on me and i tell my friends…
I’m hiding inside a mailbox at the corner near my house, and I’m peaking out to watch a group of men take my family away.
When I feel asleep there was a deafening tone of sound in my ear, the more I fell asleep, the louder the sound became. Then all of a sudden I was in a room. The most beautiful room; it could of perhaps been a shrine. Colors of gold and characteristics of Alhambra, with Moroccan-esque suspended in space, floating lanterns in the air. In front of me was a man levitating in a meditative equipoise. He had the appearance of a mystic ascetic; thin, longer, scraggly, greyish-silver beard. And behind him was an opening to another world. There were beautiful angels flying about. I had come to receive a message from him. But I got scared and awoke. That dream was over 10 years ago. I always wonder what message it was that I was to receive. I sometimes ask the universe to take me back to that place so I can receive my message. I will live with that dream in my heart for eternity, with hopes of one day standing in that place again to receive my message.
My brother, the guy I’m sleeping with and I are all in a big blue bed together. We are in a cabin in the woods that is old and small. But the bed is very big. We are talking about the ability to trick people and my brother says it is a skill you either have or you don’t. Then Chris, the guy, tells us he is going to be a submarine piolet.
I cannot run faster than others can walk. Fuck this dream!
This dream will never make my journal. The message was clear.
I’m at my desk. It is very familiar to me. Past ideas and doodles are sketched where I sit.
These doodles trace my racing imagination. I feel trapped at this campus. (but I know I need to be at this desk)
At that moment he speaks to the room. However, he looks at me.
The proximity of our bodies is close. We are divided by other students.
However his message is directly aligned to my gaze. I stop sketching and look back.
All I hear is you have the power. “YOU”
I wake up and remember that I won’t see that individual in that environment ever again.
Perhaps in dreams… but the words stick.
I stay up, I write, I doodle, and I sketch.
I’m walking down the street and I am scared because I have been told to keep on one side of the sidewalk to avoid the violence, but it’s confusing, as the sidewalk twists and turns, which side of the line I am supposed to stay on. This community is suffering from so much violence, gang related, drug trade, mafia, many forms of organized crime overlapping and in conflict, and the community’s answer has been to divide the narrow sidewalks in half lengthwise. All shootings and organized crime violence are to happen on the sliver of sidewalk facing the traffic, all other pedestrian activity happens on the side adjacent the buildings. I’m walking along trying to follow the irregular spray painted delineations, but I feel really unsure about this system.
She picks me up at the airport all dressed in black like a mime. She looks lovely and I am happy that she is there to greet me, I say “Hi! Hi! Fuck you!” And then there is an awkward silence as I sort out the realization that if I intended that as a joke, it wasn’t funny. “Fuck you” in and of itself is not a punch-line, I’m in the process of slowly realizing, when she says, “It’s ok to really be angry. You have some things to really be angry about, it doesn’t have to be funny all the time.”
I had this dream where I was talking to this old lady, ancient, all wrinkly and paper-y, but big and tall and strong very much alive. I went to her house which was a cozy, rambling house in the Ozarks or some landscape I recognized. And it was so warm and comfortable and she made me tea and I told her everything (which of course she already knew) and she asked me to hand her this spool of thread or that scissors while she worked and said things like “Ive had millions of children and lost most of them, so no one knows that feeling more than I do.”
Dreamt we rolled around telling each other things we knew, but didn’t want to know. Things that would break us to change. Or make us free. Truthful things.
Dreamt of a different life within a dream about a different life. And now, we’re making it real.
Driving a car down a waterfall and feeling like, “This is totally awesome, I’m driving on a waterfall!” Suddenly, I plunge underwater and start drowning. Wake up gasping for air.
I dreamt that I was standing with a friend outside of a tall, tall chain link fence with barbed wire on the top. It was a desolate landscape: dusty ground, gray skies, gray, Soviet style buildings surrounding the perimeter. The look and feel of a concentration camp. Delegations of leaders from the world’s nations were filing through an opening in the fence and funneled towards a destination unknown. Suddenly, the delegation of Ethiopian leaders broke off from the pack. It was clear they were disregarding protocol and planning on walking right through the main fence. One of their private jets flew above them, ostensibly providing support for the delegation on the ground. A middle-aged, slightly heavy-set female politician from Pakistan turned to me and sighed, saying something like, “What a disaster. I cannot wait to get back to New York City.” We embraced and the dream faded away.
Last night I dreamt that I stood on the shores of Eagle Lake and the Adirondacks and watched an old man fly fishing with a big mechanical, robotic fishing rod that did all the casting for him. The man soon came ashore and walked over to a big crowd in some fairgrounds that I hadn’t noticed behind me. He started mumbling and preaching to the crowd something that sounded like poetry and held out an empty beer mug asking for donations.
This ice cream shop inscribes it’s cones with quotes from Jalaluddin Rumi. Mine says something about there being a choice not to see life in a cynical way, it felt incredibly elucidating, but I can’t remember the exact wording. When I turn my cone around, I’m amazed to see the ice cream is shaped into an incredibly detailed face like a shogun-warrior-sculpture-turned 1930’s-animation-silly with it’s tongue sticking out, face exploding in a state of gleeful surprise. I’m so shocked that they can do that with ice cream.
Having sex through some sort of homemade advent calendar, puppet show type board with various holes and screens, curtains, and boxes. He’s got about a dozen penises all over his body. He explains that the one in the center (where penises usually go) has been made the most tangibly real by using it so many times, the agreement about it’s reality strengthened and made physical through consistent use, while the others appear and disappear, flickering in and out of existence at will.
Skin rashes and sore, calcified breasts, my doctor explains that when I was little I must have put something in my mouth off the ground that had shit on it, and contracted a fungus/bacterial disease that stayed with me ever since. People mostly get it in jail she said, but you seem to have gotten it in childhood.
I dreamed of a living crocodile without theeth that I bought at an auction – Darkish green and five times bigger than me.
It was aggressive and sad, but still I try to cuddle it as much as possible, so that it feels loved and appreciated.
I keep having this recurring dream… I’m laying on my back smoking cigarettes with my eyes closed and someone is with me and we’re not talking. … the scene changes; sometimes there’s grass on my neck, or a fly, or its a stone floor, or a wood planks, or a blanket, but its essentially the same. Feels like breathing deep and I don’t want to open my eyes.
Every night I dream of being held
Of the world of earth and tendon
Wrapping itself around me
The hands of mountains firmly
on my hips and holding me high.
Something bigger than me breathing on me.
An untamed thing with which I am entirely safe.
We were buying dozens of eggs, to share. Out of a dozen eggs came full grown cockroaches. One out of each egg, not like it was being born, but just like it was coming from somewhere else, just walking through the egg. Noone seemed to mind. Then we ate the eggs.
Explaining, in a disembodied voice, to a disembodied listener, that I can’t have a baby because I can’t have a mantlepiece covered only in pictures of children, that I would hate such a life.
I dream that I am floating upward from my bed. Everything seems so normal and undreamlike, (besides the floating bit), kind of a hyper reality, and I say to myself, if I touch the wall, this is real. Still dreaming I feel my skin scrape against the rough plaster of my bedroom wall as a float past it on my way up. The feeling matches the hyper reality, everything ordinary, but magnified sense of the dream, and is unbelievably creepy. “It’s happening! This is real!” I think, and the dream ends.
In my dream this morning i met N in line waiting to go to an art lecture party. I love her! There were lots of cute bustly new york people buzzing and bundled from the brisk autumn weather and the night aire made it so we could see our breaths!
I’m dusting the television and cutting centipedes in half with scissors when E calls from the Pacific Northwest. “It’s gotten bad, we’ve been shooting 4 trees a day.” She says. I am confused and envision her and her boyfriend in the forest shooting guns off at the Redwoods, but she explains that they have found a medicinal sap in one of the giant trees which they have become addicted to, and have started injecting the sap of 4 full trees a day. “In the beginning, one tree was enough, one tree was pure happiness for both of us all day” Cut to me, in the Pacific Northwest, I have started taking the drug and have fallen asleep on the bus, and wake up in the depot, still asleep in one of the empty parked buses. Strange that no one has woken me up. Eerie and alone in the half dark of the depot, I get the feeling that this is how societies collapse, taken in by something who’s lethargy and apathy creeps into all aspects of life, people managing just to limp through on auto pilot, until one small disaster happens, and day after day people can’t bring themselves to rise to the challenge, and the larger fabric begins to fall apart. I fall back asleep on the bus. Despite this sickening flash of concern, I don’t really care either.
I guess I was house sitting. The house was on about an acre with woods in the back. An area before farmland but away from the city. Maybe outside Seattle or maybe Portland,ME.
These two women – I don’t know them – were flirting w/ me/vying for my attention. Then, in the dream, I fell asleep.
I wake up on the couch in the family room and it’s the middle of the night. All the windows and doors are wide open and I feel extremely vulnerable. On the first floor, after looking around, I shut and lock the front door and do the same with the back door. But I still have a sinking feeling in my gut. As if there is a threat just outside or, perhaps, in the house.
I’m walking. The sun is rising on a cloudy day and I’m walking just to walk. Toward nothing. There’s another guy with reddish-blond hair, wearing a flannel shirt and a backpack walking on the opposite side. This definitely seems like a city in the pacific NW, but in my mind it’s bk. the guy stops at a corner and I stop near him. Across the street, in abutting vacant lots, is a Dixie land band – or hipsters w/ beards dressed in tails & top hats Playing dixieland music. Dancers in white… It’s all being filmed for a music video.
I’m walking back to the house. This time on the opposite side of the street and on the buildings (def bk) rooftops. I’m striding with confidence until the roof of the five-story townhouse I’m on drops off to the 3-story single family home next to it. I almost fall but grab the chimney and stop my momentum.
There is a safe way to continue: step there, jump there, drop down to that ridge and then climb back to street level.
Why? I’m not sure but I decide to get on this realities version of the Q train. I ride and take my satchel off my shoulders. My feet hurt so I take of my shoes and wiggle and stretch them. Then I’m lost deep in thought. I’m daydreaming.
We’re at the 7th Ave. stop! I guess that’s my stop. And I jump off the train just as the doors are closing. My bag is still on the train!
My shoes are still on the train!
To the man in the MTA kiosk, “excuse me, I left my bag with my writing and my cell phone on that train. Second car from the front. Please, call ahead and notify the next station…”
“We don’t do that.”
This goes on until a woman in the booth realizes I’m not wearing shoes.
“They’re on the train, too.”
They decide I’m crazy and homeless. But then I point out that a third worker on the platform has taken off her shoes… She’s now on my side. She’s a large black woman with enormous sympathy.
I do have my keys and wallet, so all is not lost. By this time, the train is 4-5 stations away. I cant catch it. Someone’s probably stolen it – definitely the iPhone.
And then it occurs to me,”This is a dream. I haven’t lost anything.”
And I wake up.
He shows me he is making a sculpture. His dad, a lawyer in Nashville told him what to make. It’s three Siamese goat skulls under a bell jar piled high with some kind of pewter colored dirt that is supposed to have special electromagnetic properties. He points out how the dirt is fusing with the skull in places, and leaking some kind of fluid. He says, the idea behind this piece is that when the dirt fuses with the bone and makes the fluid, it’s like a brain food for some special genius brain. “People will see this sculpture and think I need special brain food for my very smart brain. They will all assume I’m a genius. That’s why i made it. Isn’t that funny?”
I see a row of men coming, and I know that this is them, the ones, like a mix of dictators, army generals, polluting CEO’s and pillaging businessmen, all in one, slick and ugly. And I’ve got a shotgun. It’s fucking urgent, these are the men — the fire bombers of villages, the untouchable robber barons doling out misery, and, for some reason here is a window through that untouchability, and I am shooting as many of them as I can, messy and hard, just taking them out, until my shotgun runs out of bullets. I am mad with the need to take out as many more as I can. I grab the only thing at hand, a sharp metal pencil compass, and I run over and just start stabbing a bald angry faced military general in the head, in the face in the eye, blood pouring down his head, and I, desperate to kill him. I wake up shocked from the violence of it.
Convincing my girlfriend we should move into a house with ten other people, then realizing it’s a bad idea. Surrounded by people as I demonstrate how to clean dentures. Retiring to a tree house by myself.
I was walking through paint, that came maybe halfway up my shins, with a guy who’s a friend, in an underground tunnel. Daylight still came through so we could see. The paint was white and light blue in color and covered the entire ground. It was thick like house paint. I had no pants on. We got to the end of the tunnel, with surprisingly minimal mess on ourselves. But I had to put my pants back on.
I was in a different world where the sky was really really blue. i was with my friend alice and we were near to the sea. we were running on the tops of really tall buildings. At the end of all the buildings we jumped off. We landed on sand. Suddenly we were up at the top of the buildings again and we started running again. i let go of alice’s hand and ran really fast. i jumped off the last building. i landed in the sea. I swam. I saw my other friends. They saw me in the sea. they were laughing with me.
in my dream a cat-dog (half cat half dog creature) was getting ready to race little bears and ducks and all kinds of animals. the cat-dog asked the man running the race how to run. the man just said walk faster and faster and faster. The race began. The cat-dog started to run. But he was running along benches lengthways not on the ground. When he got to the second bench he stuck his bum out backwards. His bum was really stretchy. It stretched all the way backwards until it hit the person behind in the face. the cat-dog kept on running. it kept on running.
In my dream last night, I was being as analytical of everything as I always am. My father touched my shoulder
and pointed or moved me so I was looking upwards
there was no ceiling somehow
the sky was blue and clouds and calming and alive
I held that feeling as long as I could. When I woke up, I skipped work.
And slept in that feeling.
Skiing in the Alps with Linda Ronstadt, she’s actually Australian. Playing a video game somehow related to marionettes. Realizing that every man you know has slept with an old girlfriend. The cat brings in larger than usual mice.
I was at a cabin next to a river, there was one bridge opposite the cabin that connected to a forest. The bridge had maroon steel lines finished with a varnished wood cladding, the bridge moved to allow boats to go past… Later on in the dream I was walking with my dad just 100m away from the cabin and as I went under a concrete bridge I looked up and there was 8 bridges all slowly falling apart meaning the cars were just falling off. As I stood on some steps (with an entrance to my left) watching this spectacle. My dad says “You’ve got to make the decision now son” The choice in my mind at the time was to either help the people in the cars that were falling off the bridge or walk into the entrance to my left. I took the entrance and as soon as I walked in I started to feel like I was tripping suddenly. I was following my dad though the house to try and get away from it, it was like a clown town maze. He started to slowly dissapear. I couldn’t find him. Everything around me was like a mad clown house, I felt wrong. Then I shouted “Where is reality?”, “WHERE IS REALITY?!”.
And I woke up…..
I dreamed I was a child being chased naked by a two men in a golf cart in whitie tieties with a baseball bat in the snow. We were on a mountian on an aircraft carrier in the sky that was tipping like a see saw.
In my half-waking reaching for the little computer that I use as my email machine and my phone this morning, I was sure that I was awake and had received an invitation to an urban planning event entitled, “Public Spaces, Public Good: Bulldozing the Livable City,” and I thought, thank goodness, I am finally being invited to conversations that might actually go somewhere, through which we might reconcile some of the struggle between the past, present and future of our cities. Turns out I was still sleeping. The invitation was for talking about BUILDING…
I dreamed that I got out of bed went downstairs, to the back doors looked out into the garden and my 2 tabby cats one black/chocolate brown the other classic tabby colour had grown wings and were hovering above the grass.
it was quite odd..i was in a white van …like a vw…roberly was!! with my girlfriend and another third person a male,,who has no identity,but we both felt comfortable with him there,,i was driving and lucy was in the passenger seat and the mystery guy was in between us,we where driving down a very very steep hill,,,green short grass was every where then the sea to our right the road ewas just a smpopth road,,,like tar mack,,,not cobbled so the ride was comfortable,,i ad been down this road many times b4….fast,,,but this occasion i was breaking a lot and was thinking jesus,,,,my breaks,,,,we had a quarter of the journey left and then the road was like vertical for a short part i saw this and said something….not to much panic,,,but there was a slight heart murmur of anticipation…the van then entered that part of the road and gravity took its course…it sort of 360′d and then did this for awhile,,we where then on our feet the sea was to our half right and its midnite …but the moon was casting a lot of light,,the van seemed to be okay to it was on its wheels and was on a large concrete base..the sea looked green,,,blue…and white…and was not loud but seemed to be creeping in fast…there was a ditch a large horizontal one and then we looked around and the was about 4 of these..the water was coming in quick so we turned to our left and started to semi run/walk ,,,we could see in front of us a large building…white with balconies,,,lights coming from some,,but all had there windows private,,there was also lots of money pots,,one for each apartment,,not mega money,,like loose change,,,with the hope i guess of finding some golden nuggets! i picked one jar up and moved with lucy and the mystery guy to our right…the water was surging up…i was worried way would happened to my van and the apartments,,but was made to feel easy,,by someone saying about the ditches…we ran up a side part of steps,,,and its was so dark….inky dark,,,there was othe apartments/building to our front of some sort…but then we where on steps again….so dark,,,i got my phone out but couldn’t find the torch on it,,and the display was so poor…i then was in amongst brambles and greenery……i woke up then!!!!
been to kitchen,,,put stew in containers,,,can hear the wind outside,,,,my cat is on the kitchen table…..loking at me doing things,,,and then leave the stew to cool down properly b4 freezing!!(I’ve put red wine in there 2,,,,:-)..) grab a posh yogurt from fridge,,,and head back to bed….
Arianne wanted to make a porn of some kind. With me and her and maybe her boyfriend? She wanted to incite some ghosts or something as well. But when I showed the video, people were not necessarily impressed. Well, actually, I showed some kind of beer movie and all the nerds walked up. It turned out there was one illegal aspect to the film so I ended up waiting around for the police for a while.
In my dreams I’m always stuck or lost. I’m usually roaming my old school corridors trying to find my next class, or looking for my locker. When I find my locker, it’s usually not locked properly, but nothing has been stolen. Sometimes I walk round and round and go up and down stairs and in lifts, but I can’t find my way. Sometimes I end up on the roof, where there’s a sort of water theme park with slides, but I don’t join in because I’m supposed to go to class. I’m 30 now, but I still dream about school.
in my dream, in the middle of my tongue has one white hair.i tried to pull to take it off.but i couldnt.than my father came with a rolled paper like cigarette filter burnt it and than try to fire roots of the white hear .it hurts a lot
Last week I had a dream that a bunch of unruly new flatmates moved into my new house in Mile End. These were not your average roomates though – in fact – it was a bunch of bedbugs!! Bed bugs with human heads!!!!
Horrifying I know – but the bed bugs weren’t evil -it was more like living with obnoxious teenagers, and I kept getting into rows with them and trying to make them see how unreasonable they were being trying to sleep in my bed when they weren’t paying any rent.
One of them had the head of that actress, the bandcamp girl from American pie – Alison Hannigan – she was the mouthiest of them all!
I dream of music a low frequency that is building up to a roaring bass line. The music is hypnotic and the crowd turns into unison as one beat.
My hand is reaching for vinyl as I look down and see a baby strapped to my chest in a harness. The baby feels the music and agrees with the reaction.
I remind myself next time to bring some small headphones to protect my baby.
I then awake to 3.33am to the same recurring dream.
Wired thing I just remember the bad ones….never figure it out why…but when I wake up I just have fear on me caused by the dream.
In the last one I got a snakebite on my calf…painful and bloody….after It cured by itself….not really sure about the meaning O_O
Hope I was a bit of a help
I’m in my caravan with my cat and mouse both of which are white. All of the sudden the cat swallows the mouse. I’m devastated and try to pull the mouse out of the cats mouth but it’s gone. The cat feels very muscular and strong. I slump down on my armchair devastated and all of a sudden on the arm of the chair I see the mouse seemingly unscathed washing itself.
When I was retelling this dream to a friend over breakfast it was obvious to me that the cat represented the part of me which is spontaneias and the mouse was fore-thought and preparation. My spontaneity was strong, but my ability to think things through and judge priorities had been usurped by my spontaneity. I changed things immediately in my life and the two parts now live in Harmony, sometimes one at the fore and at other times the other. I actually think this is an important key to creativity
I’m anxiously waiting to take a major exam, at school. I’ve been studying all week for the test. I’m half way through the exam when I realize I’ve made an error and need to correct it. The eraser on my pencil has been chewed off! I get into my bag to find another pencil. As I open the bag, a squirrel leaps out! The squirrel chewed off all of my erasers!
Walking alone in a dark, damp forest. I’m very hungry. I see a long line of people, waiting to get pastries from a few Buddhist monks. The line is very long, but I wait my turn. I am so hungry and can almost taste the treats. I get to the front of the line only to find out the monks just gave away their last pastry.
I’m in a prison. The conditions are rather raw: no pain on the walls, steel bars, no glass windows. The building is made out of sandstone. Prison cells are small. Shawshank style. My inmates are friendly.
Every once in a while they make a group escape plan. They successfully get outside. I am with them. We find ourselves in a forest and pick mushrooms. Then cook some of them. I’m not sure if they’re magic mushrooms or not. It doesn’t even matter if they are. We have a great time there. Freedom feels good. We then go back to the prison to continue with our sentences. I never actually see any guards.
I later hear hitting noises. They’re my inmates planning another escape. The noises are very loud. I then wake up – I sometimes set my phone to play soundscapes – sounds that can influence my dreams. This one was a ‘busy street with roadworks’ soundscape.
I’m in the middle of the sea. I’m on a float that rises into the sky. I can go as high as I want. And I can jump off it with total and utter freedom.
My girlfriend had a really beautiful apartment as her studio, and asked me if I wanted to move into the one next door as it was for rent. I looked at it and it was so beautiful with really crazy high ceilings and the walls were hand painted. The people living there were so nice. I really wanted to be the sort of person who could live somewhere like that, it was like a real and perfect home. But I knew I couldn’t. That I wasn’t that person. and anyway I was worried I would get stuck in a lease and be living there and then when my girlfriend left me I would hear her new lovers coming in and out next door and it would be awful and traumatic.
Later I was living there. My ex partner was there and talking about her friend m who was in hospital having a baby and how happy she was that she could have this child when she really wanted it and had thought herself unable. I got a text from a friend which said ‘Mother and baby have both died. The friend was really upset, he is not someone I associate with upset and I was surprised. I didn’t even know he knew m.’ I felt panicked and upset and that I had to tell my ex partner. When I did she was not a distressed as I had expected.
Next I was on a bike and bumped into a group of about 20 kids. I asked them if they wanted to make a bike gang, and we could go around sorting out injustice and helping people. I really wanted them to agree. But they said they didn’t want to hang out with me and that felt pretty shit. Later I bumped into them again and ended up cycling alongside one over a field on the way back to the apartment. I got chatting to him and asking him questions. In the conversation I realised m was his mum and he didn’t know that she had died. and I would have to be the one to tell him and it felt heartbreaking in every way.
a bright grassy gently mountainous island with body parts moving around independently, eg arm with shoulder blade, torso minus 1 leg, arm and head, etc…. each whole body fragment was one strong colour….some moved towards me, others ignored my movements…there were no heads anywhere….eventually, having wandered around, i found an open classroom, very like a hollywood style african hut….this was at the top corner of a sloping field, close to the edge of a cliff…a chain link fence ran around the cliff edge, this was topped with barbed wire….i spent time waiting in the classroom, shading from the strong light, and watched as the body parts from around the island, dragged, rolled, twisted, shuffled their way towards the classroom…as a sea of coloured body parts began lapping against the steps to the classroom…i unexpectedly took flight, as i had been quite blase about the whole situation….i climbed up the fence, clearing the barbed wire…below me i could see a possible way out..a thin shard of grass in a void…stared back at swamped classroom and fence..then jumped…
I was walking in dark and dangerous place. I knew there were scorpions all around, and as I would inevitably fall on one. Though they would not leave a mark, theyt would get absorbed through my bare feet into my body. As more and more entered, anxiety built, and I would feel my feet change, turning into large scorpions, directing my footfalls, and threatening to sting my calves if I didn’t follow..
There is a beautiful intricate clay mansion submerged in water, about 1/4 of life size, just enough that i can fit through some of the doors. I am wanting desperately to swim through it but I am scared of getting trapped and drowning inside. My very kind friend brings me a mask and I realize it’s not scary at all.
I dreamt I had transferred for a semester to a foreign country to do something with kids and medicine. My friend Allie is here too. We were in our first seminar training course. After it finished, we all found our way back to our dorms. Everyone was talking but I hurried back to unpack my suitcase. I worried that I wouldn’t make any friends. I’m unpacking my suitcase and there’s an unidentified brown substance at the bottom. As I’m wiping it up with paper towels, I hear Allie walking to my room with a new friend. She’s coming to find me but also gossiping about me. I hear her tell her friend that I borrowed something from her twin and never gave it back. She walks in and asks me what I’m doing. I tell her my sneakers got muddy and left mud in my bag. I tell her I heard her in the hall. She laughs and says she doesn’t care. I go for a long walk, until I’m lost and scared I’ll miss the afternoon session of our training. I hurry back, and climb long staircases. Upstairs, the floor is covered with fingers, but the floor also has holes and some of the fingers fall through the holes. We’re supposed to pick one that looks most like our fingers and study it. I find one that is wearing the same pink nail polish as me. After, I’m walking with my peers, we’re kind of tipsy. We take pictures and I hope they will be put on facebook so Allie will see I’m making friends without her. She sends me a text asking about meeting up, and then a minute later says she meant to send it to someone else. We arrive at a bus that is also a bus. It’s filled with poor kids and a few supervisors. My peers and I are instructed to undress. We do. Then I try to get on the bus, but the supervisor tells me to put on a wet suit.
There’s a bright, brilliant red bird with thin feathers on the top of its head like a spider lily. When it sings it sounds like it’s saying, “FREAK!”. So we’re up in a tree standing around a square, pancake fish creature. It’s eyes are sinking down into its body. Death is close but we gather around and huddling over it we start chanting the red birdsong. Repeating in unison over the dying flounder: freak, Freak, FReak, FREak, FREAk, FREAK. The flounder’s eyes close and its body is still. Our bird chant isn’t working. It’s the death of a flounder.
that moment you don’t know whether you are awake or dreaming, and you wish you were dreaming…
Half waking dream:
I’m 4 or 5, I wake up from a nightmare and run, scared, into my dad’s room. “Dad! I had a nightmare!” I say, wanting to be comforted, but the room is dark, and his face in the teeny bit of light from he window looks like it’s turning into a monster the closer I look at it. I dive in and attack it, clawing at his face with my teeny hands. I suppose I thought he would be like, “Go ahead sweetie, kill the monster that’s coming out of my face, good work.” but no, more like, “Hey, stop it, why are you doing that?!” and me, confused “Oh, sorry, there was, you know, a monster coming out of your face, you just couldn’t see it.”
Being chased….then falling…then suddenly awake.
I dreamt I had the street fighter power of Hadouken (fireball) and used it to take down George Osborne.
In my recurring dream I am Banksy
a giant toad or bullfrog in the rainforest is sacred because it gives the most amazing blowjobs, they evolved this way and the experience is regarded as spiritual.
A recurring dream I have is of a girl from my class at school twenty years ago. In the dream I need to find her, it is the most important thing in my life to find this person, to retrace my steps to her and maybe to choose a different path than the one i actually chose in life. She was my best friend before I went mad and it was the last time life seemed simple. I wake up every time disturbed by the dream. I never think about her outside of the dreams.
I am in a group of people talking and as i speak my teeth are crumbling and coming out. Its incredibly distressing, mouth full of pieces of teeth which i spit out in horror.
We were lying in bed after our first night together. I had waited a year and half for him to just kiss me. We were sleeping soundly. His arm around me, his long body arched and nestled into mine. It was incredibly warm despite being the end of October. I kicked off the blankets and looked to my left. He was sitting on the floor, wild eyed, his hair disheveled, his mouth full of blood. He looked at me, silently beseeching me, imploring me to help him. I slipped down to the floor to meet his gaze. I did not touch him. I started crying and asked, “Who did this to you? Who did this to you?” He didn’t respond. It was as if I should have know inherently the cause of his injury. The blood filled his mouth, ran down his chin and pooled onto the floor. Some of his teeth were missing. Frantic, I ran back and forth in the tiny apartment, yelling, “Who did this to you?” Silently, he look at me. I couldn’t understand the reason for his suffering. His suffering would remain a mystery to me. I wouldn’t be able to help him. Later, he would leave just as silently and seek someone who could.
I don’t remember my dreams often, but I did have a recurring dream that lead to a strange, ghost experience when I was in my mid 20s. It always started this way: I am walking down the narrow hallway of my grandmother’s house in Bellport, Long Island. I loved being there in the summers, so I associate the house with my happier childhood memories. In the dream, I pass the living room, the dining room, and then I see the built in book shelves by my grandmother’s bedroom. I pause for a brief moment, and then I walk into the room toward her dresser. There she always displayed her bottles of perfume. In the dream, I look at the bottles and then I gently pick one up and I inhale its scent. That’s when the dream changes quite dramatically. It’s as if I’m no longer in a dream state and instead something has shifted — it’s as if a ghost or spirit is trying to communicate with me. I don’t recall what it was trying to “share” but it felt very, very dark and disturbing. I tried to give into the experience for a while, but it became too aggressive. The experience kept happening over the course of several months until it happened every time I slept, whether I took a short nap or was down for the night. As weeks went on, the experience began to feel violent as the energy (I don’t know what else to call it) tried to take over. One time I forced myself to wake up and as I sat up in my bed, the electric blue light was swirling around my room in a tornado like fashion. That was the last straw. The experience had become so frightening that I had to move out of my apartment. The day I moved out, two friends were with me. As we sat in the kitchen for the last time, a bright blue ball of energy/light slowly came floating down the hallway toward us, took a turn into the kitchen and then went out the kitchen window. The spirit had left us. My friends were shocked. I was relieved to have witnesses.
We were wading through a creek bed, searching, as always, for flint and fossils, stone and bone. From atop the silted downstream tail of a rocky shoal I pulled a finely crafted stone tool, and I leaned in to share the discovery with my friends – the same friends with whom I’d spent the previous afternoon lazily searching this dream creek in real life. As I pointed out the pressure-flaked edges and fluted stem of the dream piece, I was distracted by several other lithic artifacts lying in the sand just beneath my hand. And this! And look at this! With every scoop I pulled up a knapped scraper or a crested blade or a projectile point, until the unlikeliness of the finds overrode my appreciation of the dream, and I realized my hands were empty.
I had a dream that this lovely redheaded girl planned a trip with a group of school children/protestors/artists. It included a ride through Kensington on the subway, which they loved. She was very cheery, happy and well put-together and it wasn’t out of my mind to ask her on a date.
I don’t know who he was, or why I had to dispatch with him, but it couldn’t have been good. I have killed him with a shovel, then hauled his body away and hidden it. Now I am fussily mixing the right color to paint over the blood that won’t come out of the grout between the tiles.
A flock of birds with long wings and faces like puffins lands by our car. I am amazed. He gets out to look at them. When he comes back I say, “Aren’t they so cute?!” And he says “No, I don’t find them cute at all.” I look at his face and it’s all made up exactly like a puffin, and I say, “But you are made up and dressed exactly like a puffin!” And he says “Yeah, but my suit is better.”
Massive purple wave. Beautiful neon lavender overtaking me. Overtaking me so much this wave is pure and perfect sex. I am crescendoing into incredible orgasms. I wake up in a room full of other teenage campers, the den father of the skiing field trip is shaking me and saying in patchy English, “Are you ok? You are making some kind of noise in your sleep.”
It’s the mid nineties and we are going to see a new sport. The room is dark, like a bar, and in the middle there is a boxing ring, but the floors of the ring are very fancy and polished, and the whole thing is lit up with laser lights and disco balls, maybe a fog machine or two. Some kind of trancey-y-disco is playing incredibly loud. The boxers are on rollerblades, oiled up and spangled, plus tiny sequin glitter shorts, and are disco-rollerblade-boxing each other, lots of spins and ultra smooth dance moves between knock outs. It’s the rage here.
I had a dream about filming the new film “Titanic” the other day. With better script, detailed characters and so on.
I have just come out of a blackout, I find that I am riding a motorcycle down a down mountain road in the rain at night, slipping and sliding all over the road, no breaks, a bent front wheel, the headlights going in and out. I desperately have to get somewhere but I don’t know where, and have to muster all of my teeth gnashing panic just to stay balanced where I am atop this nearly out of control motorcycle.
He says, “Oh, you have a baby now, you have to earn for your baby and you wife now, like I did.” Mother is there is the easy chair, reclined back all the way, arms crossed, making an expression as if to say that this is absurd, she is a liberated woman who has never had to be supported by a man, which we know isn’t true at all, he supported her all of our lives, and a I say, “It’s ok mother, you contributed too.”, thinking of all of the ways that she kept the life of the house and the family together, but then I hear myself saying, “If only you weren’t such a shell of a person”
Once I had a dream that I was a woman. Nothing really happened in the dream – I just kind of became aware like waking up into the dream, and wasn’t sure where or who I was. Then I gradually became aware that I was a woman. I guess that enough of my male self lingered that it was remarkable to me that I was a woman, or perhaps when I woke up it was remarkable and I therefore remember it. I wonder if this was some connection to a past life, if they exist. I sometimes wake up now not knowing who I am for half a minute or so.
I have a recurring procrastination-anxiety dream (I’m a master of procrastination), where I go to class the first day of approximately grade 12 determined to take advantage of the clean slate and keep up with my work. Then I either come the next day and can’t find my timetable/locker/class room and fall behind, or it’s suddenly the review class at end of term and I’ve forgotten to do any of the work.
Dream of little girl from Kenya recenly adopted into Canadian home. In real life she rides around town on the back of her new father’s bike, and she really wants her own bike. Dream: she’s riding a bike (by herself) around in the shelter that was her former home in Africa.
They’re after me.
I was waiting on line with a group of people. I think we were in San Francisco in some sort of a homey-type establishment. Someone at the front counter wouldn’t move his white suitcase, which was about 8 feet behind him. So the rest of the line stayed back by the suitcase, uncomfortable about separating him from it. We were all a bit frustrated about how this wasn’t art so I decided to lay myself down on a table while my erection protruded from beneath the lacy tablecloth. We all then agreed that that was art.
Uh-oh, I have left the house naked. I know — I’ll drag myself through the ditch. It’s full of goopy silty slippery disgusting black mud, which stinks like fuck, but if I drag myself through it, I’ll get covered in it’s goop, and then at least no one will see my nakedness.
There’s the competitive eating contest for 12 year old’s and I’m told to clean up after them. The drain is made of gold but I have to drive through Wyoming to get to it. Carrots are julienned and men with suits are watching.
We had a vow that if it went wrong we would kill ourselves. There was an incantation that, if spoken, would burn a small key made out of rope. We would then find ourselves in nooses on top of chairs. I guess we were to kick the chairs out and dangle from ropes that were magically suspended in air. It didn’t come to that, though.
There were two men who wanted to incriminate a drug dealer in some way. One of them looked like The Dude from The Big Lebowski, but a little more cultish. When it came to the mission, they were Matt Dash and possibly Eric. We sat down with an old friend who had made a CD devoted to World of Warcraft. He was unimportant. The important one was a somewhat famous rapper, a white guy with glasses who arrived and immediately passed around a much more important CD. This one was a popular disc, perhaps because it was filled with drugs.
There were confection-candy type chunks of pills attached to small pieces of circuit board with dust scattered over the CD. We immediately scooped them up and chewed them. It was a quick and intense high. He was obviously addicted but not in a bad way. He did talk about cocaine with his cereal though. I almost blew our cover by simple saying “You know who we were hanging out with the other day?!” intending to mention our secret agents but instead talking about our less popular friend with the World of Warcraft CD.
Afterwards Matt Dash’s girlfriend Agatha left to go for a walk. There was obviously some turmoil and he spoke in metaphor when he tracked her double-sidedness and unhappiness via a music service. “She deleted a song that she knows I love…and added this crap”, he posted on some social media website. She entered and asked some self-centered question about her posture and left.
An impossibly large man at a wooden table. He is mammoth, as is his concern for cats.
His attention is on a kitten, inspecting it’s newness while a murmuring baby lies prostrate atop the table, at his elbow.
It begins squalling, now a growing threat to his concentration.
Without looking away from the kitten he squashes the baby; its head beneath his thumb.
Almost like a passenger pigeon, but not.
There are circular potbellied clay pots in this mote some broken some intact still. They were formed by casting the bellies of the Kings. This small back courtyard with the mote has been converted into a social space ant there is a man playing a massive wooden resonating box that is taller than him on the space being used as the stage on the other side of this small mote. It sounds better than an upright. We are squatting this space and it is luxe. I decide to walk into this large medival building much too large for any actual early architecture and as I am walking back to my area I pass Echer-like staircases upside done and odd angled I have to crawl through tiny passages …but it is late afternoon and nothing is dark the light is streaming in and has turning everything golden. The walls are beige plaster? sandstone? who knows. soft light. as I am about to make it back to my spot I get an over head shot of two groups of Papel/KKK robed throngs clashing at the old drawgate witch is situated in a medieval city. Two colors. Red and Black. Smashing into each other. One trying to keep the other out the other trying to get in. I get a flash I have to get to the box truck. Everyone is there. We are fleeing…suddenly I am just behind it as it is rolling slowly away and arms grab me and pull me into it.
The waves are are rolling over my head and reaching forward spreading out as they should on the dark shore. Except that there is this air pocket and my head doesn’t get wet at all and I am watching them reach before me. I am in Ecuador night body surfing. There is a teenage townie out with me but we don’t know each other. We flash each other knowing smiles. The water is my mother and his as well. We have no fear. We are home. I feel something brush my leg. large water displaced. I look to my left. All of my friends are swimming a distance away. I swim to shore and walk down and get in with them. we are smiling a swimming. there is a girl there I don’t know. she and I are trying to catch the same wave. as I jump into it I see streaks of red. VIVID blood red. no other colors saturate in this dream as this does. I hear her scream and as I come up to the shore I look to see if she is all right. Things do not alarm me… and she is on her feet hands on face screaming. the next wave comes and washes up the hulk of a great white. Carved up and meaty. most of the flesh freshly cut off except for the head with is intact jaws open..and in the next wave a large rug sized mercury silver Zygote. All the movement in this dream is fluid and I am flowing up onto the shore to take a closer look first of the mercury silver mass that on closer examination is edged in that perfectly sea creature hyperbolic plane and the gelatenous mass contains the bones of what look to be a prehistoric dolphin. I don’t stop walking and calmly pass the massive carved carcass of the great white noting its visceral meaty boned fresh blood body lacking mass appearance and I keep walking down the beach.
I`m camping at the most bucolic of all sights. My tent is set up looking over a wooded valley. It`s sunrise and dew drips from pine needles. Horns sound and Bigfoot steps from behind a tree and starts rubbing his ass on my tent. So I say,”Hey Bigfoot! Common, that’s my tent. Then the whole dream happens again. Horns sound and Bigfoot steps out from behind a tree and starts rubbing his ass on the corner of my tent. Again I protest. “Common Bigfoot! Jeez!” Then the horns sound again like the fox hunt begins. Again Bigfoot steps out from behind a tree. But this time he has on rain gear. A full waterproof rain suit, the fancy Gore-Tex shit, it`s blue. Bigfoot walks over to my tent , pulls his pants down and rubs ass on the corner of my tent. So I say , “Hey Bigfoot! What`s with the rain gear?”
I’m trying to take a picture of a giant empty billboard on an island that is part of a large group of islands. I’m with an old friend and we can’t find the billboard but we find a concrete house built into the base of one of the islands. There are multiple rooms and the walls are painted beautiful saturated colors. The whole thing has ankle deep water running through it slowly. It’s calm and has the feeling of a holy place. and I think, in the dream, that its really good that me and this friend of mine are here together as I’ve been worried about him, as he has been having drug problems for a few years..
I am working with two psychologists. They are I.Q. testing me. One says, “Falling is” – and I say, “Falling is preserving. It is preserving the momentum of gravity without stopping it, no interruption. I remember that one from the S.A.T.”
Later the main psychologist says, “We like to get patients to the point where they can kill both of their parents in their dreams.”
I dream that I am sitting at a Japanese restaurant, and the two children of my host arrive at the restaurant laying down on and clinging to the backs of two huge black sheep.
Yesterday, k just walks straight into my house, in a mysteriously fancy dress, with senatorial hair. I am wondering how she got in, why my door won’t lock. I can’t get my door to lock no matter what I do. Today, we are a bunch of us all in a bathtub together telling stories to a camera crew when k turns to me and shows me that she is sprouting a small penis right out of her clitoris. We look in amazement saying, some people have this but are born with it, you are just growing this now?
I go to practice my dance but then a tarantula pops out from behind the shower curtain. I’m freaked, and I’m mad at her. Why isn’t she practicing her dance? “I don’t need to.” she says, “I’m too good to practice.” But then I see the real reason, when she goes in there, a tarantula the size of a dinner plate pops out. This thing is massive and everybody is flipping out, we are so scared. It runs out into the living room like it owns the house, and then I’m like, I got this, and I throw a book on top of it, then another book, then I stand on top of both of those and it’s black blood, looking like used motor oil, seeps out into the carpet all gushy and disgusting as I crush it.
Childhood dream: I need to pee really badly, I am running around searching for a place to pee, there is a yard full of old cars, I get into the driver’s seat of an old gigantic junked up 70’s car, which is understood to be the toilet I’ve been looking for, though I feel a bit strange and exposed peeing in the driver’s seat of a broken down car as though I’m driving. When I wake up I’ve wet the bed.
I dreamt I was kissing and being held by my year-long crush, finally, and it was so sweet and the caress was like mists and light and it felt so real and totally happy and we were at last able to express a longing desire, unspoken and utterly psychic and real. It was beautiful and I could smell the freshest of air and feel the tingle of fall and spring at the same time, like birth and death. It was a gift for me, and shared with him too.
I’m trapped in an enormous empty gray room and running around not to get squished by huge (like 30mx30mx30m) white cubes that are falling down on me from the ceiling. I see this dream every time I have a fever. Its scary.
I was born in Tokyo and always grew up there. When I was child, I used to dream of myself flying in the sky, above a big city, between tall buildings. I was flying without any reason and there was only a sense of body that was trying to keep the correct position and balance to keep the flying motion. Sometimes I was holding shoulders of someone who was flying super fast and so that I was flying as well. Sometimes that person was my brother. I have heard of a psychological explanation about this kind of “flying” dream but I don’t remember it very well.
In real life my cat was dead, but I didn’t know it yet. I dreamed she appeared to me, split open and bleeding, and said, “I’m dead now, I’m leaving, goodbye.” And we had the deepest soul embrace. When I woke up I learned she had climbed up into the undercarriage of the car for warmth and fallen out on the highway.
I had a dream about my dead father, it was very vivid. I was able to feel myself touching his face as though it was really happening. It was magical.
getting eaten by lions = sex. getting hit by a car on your bike = getting eaten by lions = sex.
The mostly bluebandaged head, the gnawed human knucklebone bode poorly for Infected Girl, though she’s more concerned about the other one. She hears it makes you soft, moldy as with rotten fruit.
I’m in a room, the room’s colors start melting away and changing in goopy oil slick swirls of coming apart-ness. The room’s surface impression is dissolving away like frosting in the heat sliding off a cupcake. I am becoming lucid, what is melting away is the façade — if I can stick with it, what I will see underneath is things as they are, but I am terrified just to be there at all, in that uncanny space in between.
I dreamt that a friend asked me to take care of her infant child, which I reluctantly agreed to do, reluctant mostly because I’m not really sure about how the child care idea works, especially re: infants. I thought that I should put the baby somewhere warm and dry, so I placed her gently in a giant hot dog bun (soft, spongy, white bread), and put the hot dog bun and baby, into a cupboard over the kitchen sink. I completely forgot about the baby until several days later, then I slowly opened the cupboard door and knocked on the hot dog bun (it was hard as rock). I remember saying out loud (in my dream), “that’s not good”, and laughing nervously.
I have a recurring dream that I am happily running around naked in a lush green wide open meadow with a long colorful scarf in my hands blowing in the wind. There is someone on the ground who is enamored by me, sitting and watching me twirl around. I smile at him as I twirl and look at him once in a while to see if he is watching me. I don’t know who he is in the dream or real life. I hope I find him and the meadow one day….
Childhood dream: I answer the phone. It’s my aunt Bonnie. Just her voice coming over the phone line, saying nothing in particular, and I am instantly, inexplicably terrified. Babies are crying and dogs are barking in the distance around me, all is layered darkness and suffocating night heat. In it’s eeriest, simplest, most stripped down essence, pure terror is being transmitted to me through the voice on the other end of the line. I am panicking. I need it to end. “Bite yourself! Bite yourself!” I am telling myself, and I awake tensed in fear, with my teeth gripped hard onto my slobbered-on bite-marked arm.
Recurring teenage dream:
The dogs are out. The scary ones from across the street that always stick their heads through that gaping hole in the fence and threaten in that guttural bellow particular to angry Rottweilers, and they are coming for me. I am trying to get into a car, and shut the door and keep them out, but I can’t get the door shut on time, my arms are gravy, and the air molasses, and they keep coming for me.
There is a big flood. And there is a toilet in the middle of the flood and it dragged everything (people, houses, furniture, books, etc) into. My family was screwed into the toilet, dissapeared and I was also screwed into the toilet.
In the dream I awoke from a dream and awoke in a strange place, like a tent or some kind of encampment. I was with a large group of people and we were in what seemed to be a different planet, but it was grassy and sort of vaguely Earth-ish, but the sky was a bright neon lavender. We were out later exploring this strange place and everyone was looking for clues as to where we were and what this place was. After walking all day we walked over a ridge overlooking a huge valley. Inside of the valley there were remains from humanity from all over the world – in various states of ruin and decay – there was the head of the statute of liberty, a part of the Taj Mahal, part of the great wall of China, a piece of a skyscraper from Dubai, a piece of Big Ben. It was like a depository of earth’s human culture. Everyone in the group was asking, ‘what are these things’, ‘where did they come from’, ‘what does it mean’ – no one recognized anything – but I knew.
I need to get on a plane to Ecuador right now. I have only minutes to make it. The lady behind the ticket counter is on my side, she really wants me to get on this plane. “Come on she says, I’ll take you the short way.” We are running through crowds and using special keys to go into service elevators. Then, when it’s clear we are still too far to make it, she ducks us into a back room, in an attic, amongst the duct work, under a lone naked bulb, and she starts receiving messages on her handheld computer about how to hack into the plane’s computer to delay it. I start to feel guilty that she’s going to all this trouble for me. I see on her screen only images, no words, apparently all airline communication now, even at the ticket desk, has switched from words and numbers to complex images, lattices of straight lines forming constellations, maps, and images of all kinds, in beautiful colors. I am mesmerized by what a delicate and beautiful language they have created. She is downloading the images that will tell the plane bound for Ecuador that there is a malfunction and it must not leave yet. A door opens in my house and I wake up. I don’t know if I made the plane or not.
i can barely remember what matt looks like then i realize that he is a black man from uganda. i am already commited to him and i need to get to know him. he sells DVD’s and books and has a PhD. He loves Woody Allen and says that all Ugandans love Woody Allen. I help him at his DVD stall and I am very happy
i am at moms house taking a shower in the basement and we realize that we inherited an orphan girl with the house. she is 16, heavy set with dark brown hair and very pretty
grandma is alive. she is younger. in her 70′s. she looks beautiful ,radient-it has been 1 weeks since her death. she is in mom;s room and i hug her soo tightly-i dont want this to end. mom says to grandma “you are dead” but grandma does not understand. she does not think she is dead
im in a huge dark cave. i am hiding. there is a man and a mini lion. i cannot tell if they will hurt me or not. the lion is blind and i am shocked that his animal instincts cannot detect me with his other senses. the man is a very fashionable indian yogi artist. finally we lock eyes and i see that he is a friend. i am happy and relieved
i am witnessing and ancient yet spontaneous ritual. thousands of women running to the see, naked, arms outstretched. some would go in groups carrying each other in rectangular shapes then disperse at the sea shore. no one else was there is was totally safe, beautiful, free, powerful, fun natural. we were all spanning the ocean but without touching
I push up off the ground hard, and, it turns out, that if I give it that extra push, I stay up a few seconds. Why have I never noticed this before? And if I move my arms, as though swimming that first little frog stroke you learn as a child, but with that extra extra push, full of hope, and will, and a little bit of fear, I stay up. Push again, and I’m still up, I’m steering myself now, flying, I can swim through the air. It’s wonderful, I am laughing at how long it took me to notice that this is possible.
Dillon says, ‘You are lucky to have anxiety attacks. Some people wake up in strange
worlds and can’t make sense of who they are so often that nothing seems
real, and there is nothing to be anxious about.’
He refused to shoot me while I faced him so he made me turn around then shot me in the back several times. I did nothing to retaliate or protest I knew I was wrong. I died and was put on a trial of sorts. I sat on a couch with two very old men, me in the middle. We were in a living room with 1950′s decor. I was made to watch a show of a man being tortured on a b/w TV. I got the feeling that this too was my fate. Then the man on the right gave me a letter of pardon but the handwriting was so small and all lowercase that I couldn’t read it, except for very large letters at the bottom that said SUICIDE SUCKS. I was released but had to crawl through very narrow tunnels that lead to an open stable of shit thick as mud. That’s when I woke up.
I am riding in a taxi cab. I’m trying to explain to my fellow passenger that this is just a dream. We are disagreeing. I’m like “Look man, we are dreaming, there are no consequences, we can do whatever we want, and don’t be afraid of things like this car getting into an accident or anything else, because it doesn’t matter – as a matter of fact, watch” I say as I hit upon the idea of throwing the baby that has just appeared in the taxi out of the window of the moving car, just to show that, look, we can do the worst imaginable thing, and the results will just be nonsense. I grab the baby, and quickly huck it out the window. It smashes on the side walk. Very gruesome. I feel terrible, I have just killed a baby. There seem to have been real consequences… not what thought would happen at all.
recurring dream as a pre teen:
(in it, I mostly watched myself from outside my body)
I am woken up in my childhood room (that I used to share with my older brother before he left for college) by a disembodied voice asking,
“Who are you?”
with my face still buried in my pillow, I’d respond,
This would go back and forth until I finally lifted my head up to see who was there… No one. The only thing I’d notice was my room was different in the following ways:
My bed was the only furniture in the room.
An exhaust fan was built into the wall above my bed. It wasn’t on but a breeze from outside would make it turn.
A blue light was coming in through the windows and the hole where the fan lived.
A red dirt covered the floor (normally it was wood panels.)
Then the dream jumped ahead and I was speaking with my brother. But every time I’d look away from him and look back again, his face was different. Each new face was the face of someone I knew. Our conversation was about some girl (identity unknown) who had been found murdered. An unsolved mystery and the only clue was a four-sided die (the kind used with games like Dungeons & Dragons – which I played a bit at that time in my life) was found next to the girl’s corpse.
Jump ahead or back or elsewhere… I’m walking around the main floor of my family’s house. Now, the light is orange inside but it’s night outside. The floors are covered with red dirt, no furniture, but a few (2-3) mirrors hang on the walls.
I walk around and look at myself in the mirrors. Then I realize that I’m the killer of the girl. I pick up a four-sided die from the dirt floor and walk out the front door to go kill her.
Still in the dream, I wake up in my bed back in the first scene with the blue light. I’m upset.
Then, I’d really wake up. Disturbed.
I had a dream in which I could make apple trees grow and share the fruit with my friends. The apples were delicious and looked like big grey/red/pink/white marbles.
The hill the mansion sits atop is steep. I am walking through the place, led by a mother and a father of just one of the families that lives here. There are televisions stacked up in short dividing walls. People cook, write plays & perform bits of them, make stained glass windows and collage, all while children run rampant through the house in costume for the big performance they will put on later tonight. The parents tell me this performance happens once a year, and that it is a big celebration. No one has a job unless they want to. There is a hidden benefactor somewhere in the mansion, but no one really knows much about him or her.
There is enough money to go around & everyone is very happy.
People are having sex behind some French doors. I can’t tell if it’s two or three people.
We walk outside, overlooking a city not unlike Los Angeles in its sprawl, but the environment suggests a northeast location. The stage and seats are arranged so that the setup looks like a wedding. Women and men in handmade clothing are bringing out large bowls of food & setting them on tables.
Recurring dream: A gigantic wave rising up from shore, in it swim dolphins, whales, sharks and hundreds of kinds of sea life, all visible inside the body of the wave. I am in awe.
I can play the piano, stand in line with all the others, and be chased in an episode of COPS all at the same time. It suddenly snows after washing the dishes.
We are walking along the street, for some reason I think it’s Cuba, although I’ve never been. I’m trying to talk to her and it feels urgent, like I need to get through to her but she’s so turned inwards that she’s pretty vacant, like she exists really deeply inside her skull in a place I cannot reach. I know that she has written this song, the perfect song, from somewhere so deep inside and containing so much emotion that its magical. writing it took so much of her, she put her entire self into it, that it’s left her distant. It’s like all the hugeness of her is now in the song. I’m really worried for her. That night she is supposed to perform the song and I somehow know that singing it will be dangerous. We pass a bar and in the entrance is a pay phone. I tell her to wait outside and call a doctor I know and explain to him how distant she is and about the song and the performance. He tells me that on no account should I let her sing the song, that singing it will destroy her. She has given herself to it so completely, and it is such an act of perfect generosity, that she has lost herself to it. She had made the perfect song. I manage to get her to speak to the doctor on the phone. I wait outside and cannot hear what she is saying but I can see that she is at least speaking, and it gives me hope. I ask her afterwards what he said, and she replies that he told her not to sing. But she decides she will go ahead anyway even though it will be the last thing she will ever do and in the process she will die or be lost from the world forever and only exist in some vacant dead catatonic state.
I feel urgent and desperate, but also selfish because I cannot deal with the idea of my life without her, although I know that in some larger way, she is doing something perfect and generous and has created something so wonderful that anyone who hears it will be changed forever. The dream ends before I know if she ever sings it.
There is a massive wild haired wild eyed terrifying angry man and he keeps throwing gasoline all over this junked car in my house and setting it on fire over and over again, each new explosive blaze expressing his fury. I try to sneak past him to get to the bathroom but he sees me and he starts spraying three streams of scalding hot oil at me. They are burning me and I am cowering in the corner by the toilet whimpering and trying to cover myself in towels to protect myself from the oil but it’s not working and I see that he is about to light the streams of oil on fire. I make a break for it in a momentary gap in one of the streams. I find a pipe wrench, and while he is still tending to the streams of oil I start bludgeoning him over the head. I am small and it’s hard to reach his head but I just barely make it and I am bashing him as hard as I can, my wrench is breaking apart, the wrench-head flying off until I have just one long steel stem but I continue beating him as hard as I can until I have killed him. When I have killed him I am very happy. I feel relieved and empowered and wonderful. I am glowing. I go back to the one small room where me and seven friends have been holed up camping, and I explain that I couldn’t let him humiliate me anymore, and I couldn’t wait to see how much more he would do, how much more harm he would cause before his temper was over, and so I decided to kill him. I knew people would look at me strangely – and I would have a hard time going out in public as anything but a killer, but I didn’t care, I felt fantastic and proud of myself.
As a child, I had a repeating dream of being chased through the woods by a bear. I was with my younger sister—who, perhaps due to her age, frustrated me with her slow decision-making. When the bear is beginning to catch up to us, I notice my sister is carrying a package of beef liver wrapped in butcher paper…and I yell, “For heaven’s sake, throw him the liver!” The bear happily begins eating the liver and we escape.
Years later, I recognized the bear as my father. A big burly guy who liked to to eat liver with onions….a lovable guy…. really!
For a college project, I’m crawling inside the body of a “friend” (without sex or identity). The insides feel like warm cellophane pressing against my body. I’m lost and can’t breath. Deathly afraid of causing harm, I ask if I can perforate a tube. My friend says yes but sounds worried. I tear a tiny hole and start to pull myself through but can’t remember which way I’m going. Will my friend be Swiss Cheese by the end of this?
I dreamt I was Stalin’s daughter… and he was nice to me.
a very flattering one of playing both sides of some pirate competition, good convincing use of swear words and emotional domination of a subordinate. this tenderizes the “captain” and i take over somehow, i have the flow of information. also- a pixelated vision of war [houses, perfect grey boxes, with screaming mouths and x'ed out eyes emit flame protrusions, duck and roll] of explosions occurring in countable intervals (manifested in huge green-blue paws) and rolling through disaster escaping death disguised as a sleeping cat. playing both sides. it was a good dream that could have waxed anxious but in some dim way i was able to control it or lean it into fun though scarey and violent.
Recurring childhood dream: A giant octopus invades the house, its tentacles grabbing both of my parents and myself. I wake up before much else happens.
Recurring childhood dream:
I am in deep water. I have been flipping around and become disoriented. I try to swim for the top but I am not going to make it. I start to panic and just breath in, though I am trying desperately not to, I can’t stop myself. I wait for the choking pain, but instead the water is like an orange nectar that breathes itself into my lungs. It is a a sweet and bright, pale orange, calming light. I can breathe under water I realize, and I hover there, in bliss, drinking it in with my lungs.
I could hear the gunshots and I counted them:
1 2 3 4
I couldn’t feel anything as I fell onto the warm summer ground of night, where roaches scurried beneath the rusty street light glow.
I saw someone approaching me with a sawed off shotgun while Bill stood by in disbelief.
The sound crawled up the cement in slow motion toward me.
My body buckled.
I woke up on the couch with my back arched, my son in my arms.
We’re Russian convicts escaping from something we can only assume is a prison. No one has brought sleeping bags or food. The one with the shaved head seems to be taking it all in stride.
You are made out of dresser drawers, each drawer pukes out a bit of you.
There is a massive storm cloud lit up by the sunset coming toward us. It is more than a storm cloud, it is like a cavernous landscape, prairies and mountain ranges, tornadoes are twisting off of the prairies and whole hurricanes are churning away inside it, just a small fraction of it’s monstrosity. It’s lit by the sunset, cotton candy colors and it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. EVACUATE! I hear myself screaming, get out of here! Evecuate! I’m getting everyone to run off the boats and into the giant glass office building on shore. When finally it arrives, it’s just grey skies and a misting of rain and I’m sorry we didn’t just stay and watch it instead.
I had just got some new pets: Two yellow with white kittens. One of them was unnaturally small; about three inches long but was not a newborn. The woman that I had got them from was still there so I asked her why was the kitten so tiny? She told me that these were artificially dehydrated kittens. They looked plastic-y. She showed me a seed-sized kitten that she started with. “Just add water.” These cats didn’t eat or poop because they were artificial designer cats.(10-13-2006)
When you are a child your nightmares are of monsters.
When you are an adult your nightmares are of your children dying.
Last night I had a dream my son was on fire. The flames enveloped his head, the way my own arms caress all his childhood innocence, and he turned and looked at me. It woke me up at 5:30 am.
I went to the basement and began working immediately, as if the work would put out the fire, make him safe, end his suffering, live forever,
but of course it’s simply not true. I am not ready for that kind of pain nor will I ever be.
I have a headache. A screaming headache. The pain is so intense it starts to come apart into layers, then the layers come apart into sounds. White hot, they start concentrating themselves in the center of my forehead, converging and coming apart and converging again. The sounds become more audible, something distantly familiar blossoming and imploding and blossoming again within the medium of the unremitting, nauseating pain, until, more audible still, I realize with intense horror and sadness that it’s radio signals. I am receiving radio signals inside my head. Fuck, I think — fuck, fuck ,fuck, as I remember the man in the tin foil helmet who marches in the thousand degree heat by the side of the highway all day every day, fuck, fuck, fuck, I think, desperate with sadness for him, realizing what pain he’s been in all these years, and for me, knowing that now I will have no choice but join him.
Rubber bats squirm on elastic bands. They squeak and click about the escort service they’re to launch. Get going! Get cracking! Jump in!
Inside the designated Red Robin, a table’s cleared for.
Patrons pretend not to notice as she switches to the top, frowning.
She is unable to decipher the words pant legs spell as they move up and down beneath the table. Later she dines with her parents. She eats salad that is mostly corn syrup. She hopes the bus-boys’ eyes retain the white of hours earlier when the tables were.
Out the window, bats on blood streaked elastic bands bounce under the fluorescent parking lights.
There’s the map of Mexico without any names for the towns and cities, you’re told you can make them up yourself. Children were encouraged to criticize the elderly for all they hadn’t accomplished in their lives. Jack White has serving a life term in Nebraska for killing a man, and of course, it was over a woman. I passed through the wall to verify a black man was playing the guitar outside my bedroom, his hair was like Frederick Douglas and parted on the side.
…sonho de vez em quando… de vez em quando lembro na verdade.. mas o de hoje eu lembro, estava andando pelas ruas e econtrando amigos, pessoas, vários sujeitos de todos os tipos, porém todos eram coloridos, amarelos na maioria, como se tivessem tomado um banho de tinta! E eu não conseguia descobrir qual cor eu era..
We are sitting outside at night on some abandoned and broken bit of slab architecture by the beach. We are resting on a half wall and talking when the moon rises, and with it the tide. It’s rising faster and faster, and all of the sudden the sea starts rushing into the area where we are sitting. It’s rushing in terrifyingly fast, and it’s beautiful to watch from our perch on the wall, but coming in so fast, we are mesmerized-scared when all of the sudden we become aware that this wasn’t a broken down public restroom or abandoned motel by the beach at all, but some sort of ancient architectural maze in stone, and when the tide rises, it fills it’s labyrinth channels and a maze becomes visible in shining black water in the moonlight.
A huge tidal wave has swept over New York, the city is emerged in water. My sister and I hold hands, we are safe, waiting for the tsunami to pass, we’ve found a very high crevice in a skyscraper we wait out the storm. We’re ok, we fly to my mothers house in North Carolina where it’s safe. We can fly in our dreams, it’s no big deal.
The baby has taken up skateboarding. She’s only a year and a half and can barely walk, just like in real life, so every time she gets on her board she falls off immediately. But we’ve wrapped her up in thick padding from head to toe, so she doesn’t get hurt at all. Just keeps falling off the skateboard and laughing a lot.
The ceiling’s swarming with cockroaches shifting in and out of formation, some – huge translucent – octagonal – shoving food in clear membranes on their back… loaves of bread, sushi, gummi worms. We manage to hoist the car out of the pool, but I’ve lost my guitar and while searching, soon find myself on the way to Vermont for a show with Palgo. “I’ll have to call,” I say. “You do that. Go ahead. Call Sally.” He says.
Me and Caleb are at the movies, in some old gorgeous movies theater high up on the balcony. I get bored, and so I decide to eat Caleb. It’s ok, you can eat your friends, as long as you leave a little bit left over, just a small part, like a foot or an elbow — anything that they can grow back from. But I must have gotten distracted, because I eat him all, every last bit of Caleb, and he is dead now. Dead. Completely, and can never come back, and I did it casually while I wasn’t even paying attention. I feel horrible and horrified and awful at what I’ve done.
I dreamt I was awarded a trip on a cruise ship (which is funny because I hate cruises). the cabin where we were staying was really small and crummy so we decided to wander around the ship and try to sneak into some of the nicer cabins. Somehow S.D. and I got access to some of the nicer ones and we wandered sneakily through the rooms, each one was more sumptuous than the last. Finally we got to the “presidential” super VIP suite – the nicest room of all. It had blue walls and was covered over the top royal blue decor – blue damask curtains, blue velvet chairs, blue silk bedding, etc. but the fanciest thing about it was that in this room you could fly! So we flew around the room, hovering around the high ceilings, laughing our asses off and afraid we were going to get caught. I wanted to explore the fancy bathroom but I think then I woke up.
I dreamt last night that I went out to eat at a diner and my meal arrived with a complimentary basket of adorable baby kittens. I looked around and everyone’s meal came with a basket of baby kittens. “What am I supposed to do with all these kittens?” I asked the waitress. “What do we do with anything in this world?” she replied and walked away. The kittens looked up at me longingly.
I dreamt I had possession of a dis-embodied head. The head was in a shoe box on the passenger seat of my car. The head spoke despite the lack of lungs, chest and abdomen that are typically needed for a human head to achieve speech.
The head was lamenting the loss of its body. Going on and on about the horrors of still being alive, a dis-embodied head, alone in the world. The head complained asking “Now what am I going to do?” and “This is totally fucked.” We were driving into a thunder storm, the rain was coming in on an angle sizzling in rhythmic sheets on the hood of the car. “How am I going to get around?” The head continued. The head started crying. Boo-hooing about, “Who`s going to love me?”
“Shut up!”,Shut the fuck up?” I yelled at the head. “Why can`t you think about what you have?” I reasoned. “Thats easy for you to say, Mr. Torso, Mr. Arms and Legs.” The head retorted. “I can`t even pee!” The head started crying again. “I don`t have a penis !” it wailed.
The rain continued and the temperature dropped twenty degrees. I could see my breath now. The gasket on the passenger side window had rotted from years of ultra violet sun. Rain collected in the corner and started to drip on the head.
“Oh Goddamit!” the head whined. “Pull over! Pull over now! ” The head demanded. “This is just great!” “FUCK” The head shouted.
“What an annoying head.” I thought. “There is just no reasoning with a dis-embodied head. ” “And it won`t shut up.”
I pulled the car off the freeway and under a cloverleaf fly-over. It was partially covered but the wind would blow in gusts of rain.
“Where the hell are we?” The head shot a dis approving glance.
I snatched the shoe box with the head from the passenger seat and tossed it clumsily out the driver side window. The head rolled out of the shoe box and came to rest against a log. I rolled the window up and enjoyed a moment of silence as I considered the situation.
I opened the door and stepped out to confront the head for being such a self loathing manipulative shit. A family pulled up next to us. The passenger window rolled down and a lady asked for directions. “Do you know how to get to the Sizzler Steak House?” I remembered seeing a sign on the freeway. “Get back on and its like two exits that way.” I gestured with my left arm. A little girl got out of the rear passenger door. She looked about six years old and was carrying a headless doll. She squatted and peed. She walked over to the head and propped her doll against the log in a sitting position. The little girl got into the car and the family disappeared into the rain.
Gravel stuck on the cheek of the head. The headless doll sat patiently against the log. The head was restraining itself from speaking, biting on the nub of a branch of the log. Dewey sweat on it`s furrowed brow.
It’s late and my brother and I are the only ones up in the house. He points out the window and I see, instead of the usual darkness of the outside woods, that outside the window are the most wonderful forms, giant incredible sculptures, lit up in the most beautiful ways, filling the entire yard, creating a nest of enchanted light and form around our house for us to wake up to, and I realize that this is someone’s life’s work — they find families, and unbeknownst to them, in the quiet of the night, they roll in and fill every visible inch of the yard surrounding the house in the most awe inspiring and child-like-wonder inducing sculptures so that when you wake up in the morning, on just this one day, to your utter surprise, your bit of the world has been completely transformed. I think how amazing it is. Then I wonder if anyone ever catches them when they first arrive, and tries to shoot them for being in their yards in the middle of the night, mistaking them for burglars.
There is a teeny tiny puppy in the shed, high on a shelf amongst the tools, it’s tiny and malnourished and probably gonna starve to death when I find it. Why are you keeping this here? I ask. Everyone seems to think that’s fine, that this is where the puppy belongs. But it’s gonna die, I am saying. I have to bring it in away from all the other dogs so I can feed it by hand, spaghetti and meatballs.
My step dad’s son, who died in a car accident years ago, lives in the backyard forever now. There is a sliver in things, a place and time folded into the middle of the night, where, in the backyard, it is always dusk, that moment right after the sun has set, but before the night is completely black, and he lives in that moment forever, a place where you can’t quite see or not see, and you can’t quite breathe or not breathe, and he wanders there, around the yard and the neighborhood covered in white house paint splattered like blood stirring the all the dogs to howling.
I was at an artists residency or summer camp with C . But it was also a prison. Or at least prison-like. We walked down a long fluorescent linoleum passage that opened into a wide hall lined with rows of tiny cubicles with glossy beige walls that didn’t go all the way to the ceiling. Each had a toilet in the corner.
We stood on our respective toilets and hugged each other over our shared wall. That’s when I saw the security cameras.
C had been to an orientation but she was feeling a little uncertain. Since I had been there before, I said I would show her around. We took a walk. As we were walking she asked me what I had been thinking about lately.
Death, I said.
Then she gave me a big hug and said: You deserve a vacation. Have you thought about what you might do?