something might happen to someone I know on Lewis Rd

I remember only one speck of dream, and it again takes place on Lewis Rd. It is late night/early morning, a weak streetlamp and waning moon are the only illumination. I am walking past the high school and 7eleven, away from main street. the sidewalk is covered thinly with snow. there is no one, nothing within my line of vision. as i near a deserted house i notice a car leaving the high school parking lot, it is slowing and the smeared figure inside is watching me. i grow fearful and look around for anyone, or anything to protect me. at that point a car begins traveling toward me, on the road, i leap out onto the road so that the driver will stop and perhaps offer me a lift, or at the very least stay with me until the suspicious car leaves the area. the young man in the car asks me what is wrong and when i tell him of my fears he immediately resumes gliding down the road. he disappears and when i turn back the second, lurking vehicle is gone too. i travel on and the road is no longer as it truly is for it is traveling straight through a huge, wooded home. the house is gorgeous: beautiful polished wood and nooks and sturdy, grand stairs. there are lots and lots of stairs. i reach the stairs and travel down a flight, then another flight. with each flight that i reach i notice that the house becomes more and more decrepit. and then when i reach another level my mother is there. i think my younger brother is there too, or at least in the vicinity. my mother seems wicked and is yelling at me. she doesn't want me around. the house has completely changed from the one above; this house is broken and thoughtless, there is nothing warm or loving noticeable to me.

Lazy. Busy.

I've been lazy and busy and have unclear bits of dreams, or no bits at all.
I leave for England this Friday, and perhaps across the Atlantic dreams will grow vivid again. Perhaps among other poets my poetical urges will materialize into dreamy splurges.

Happy New Year.

back seat perspective

An unknown figure is driving me through the hills of Tuscany and beyond. As we crawl uphill I begin to witness life inside the little homes and along the narrow roads in the centers of these villages. I end up at an outside restaurant. Very busy. I think I am meeting someone, but really there is no one waiting. I am shy to eat a full course meal by myself. I sit at a table where a man's jacket is draped across the back of the opposite chair. I sit and assume an expectant gaze.

The scene changes and I come upon a group touring a dark, cavernous theater. There are folks sitting in one section of seats and adjacent to them there is a choir performing from their seats. I am standing against a wall with a small crowd of strangers. I am watching them watch the choir. I grow bored, or restless, so I begin singing at the top of my voice, nearly drowning out the choir.

Scene shift. I am at a zoo with some of my students. The usual "where is so-and-so?" repeatedly plays out as the girls wander around. I find myself with one child, TG, and she is captivated by a white, slim sheep(?), the animal's face is so slender it is nearly a sharp point. I stand beside TG, but don't offer the animal my hand. I stare into this animal's face and am frightened. It stares back quite intently, I keep envisioning its thin face and mouth errupting into large malice --- like one of those snakes so thin swallowing whole a rabbit. TG at one point ends up inside the fenced area with the animal, and down lower I can see a body of water where polar bears are bathing and relaxing. I am afraid now that the bears will attack her, but she is too far to hear me call her back --- and then a bear is suddenly on her trail: small child, a crying streak in my direction with an enormous white smear chasing closely behind.

The scene shifts again, and I am watching a dinner party unfold. My mother is sitting at the head of the table with one of her three sisters at either side. There are folks I don't recognize and then at the other end a man my mother once loved is seated. Everything is fine until I begin to hear my mother's sisters speaking ugly about her, I charge into the room and scold them, they cower at my presence.
I am then following a pair of adult sisters who are grown and sneaking off to a backyard to smoke cigarettes. They are reviewing their life histories and grow sad when they realize the loved ones who have gone. They grow hysterical and melancholy and curse their cigarettes, claiming that their hidden addiction had stolen multiple moments from their lost loved ones. After they vow to quit, I watch again as they trot to the backyard upon frozen white, white snow to light up yet again.

"carry that weight"

I am looking for someone, a child perhaps. I am on school grounds and then heading toward the home of the person I am looking for. The sky above is colorless, everything around seems dark and glistening. An old Bates-like house stands off on its own, it's where I am headed. I begin in that direction, I am carrying a cooler-like box, it feels made of lead. I am walking across dark slippery rocks, downhill to get to the house. The weight and the slippery rocks scare me, but I continue.

The scene shifts and while I am still carrying the box, I am now in a stadium, walking the inside perimeter. People are staring down at me. Some I recognize from various chapters of my life, others are strangers. I am walking around and around, and then I am waiting in line. The line is longer than life.

I don't stick around to find out what I am waiting for, instead the scene shifts again and I am with a female relative. We are rummaging through a very, very messy room. One of my aunts is also nearby, she seems easy going and helpful, while my other relative is plain annoying. She is dictating to me, and in the mode of making me feel stupid. One such incident contains a book that my aunt throws in the room. The cover is deep blue and soothing looking, I reach for it and notice that the bottom half of the front cover is missing (looks like it has been chewed off). I am flipping through the book (the title has "Dog" in it) and reading the synopsis on the back, when my relative tells me all about it and the author. But the author she names is wrong and I mention it and point to the true author's name on the cover. She insists I am wrong and cannot see the truth. We continue rummaging, looking for craft books and she continues to point out ways in which I am dumber than her.

windows stay open

I am in a large house. I know no one. A branchy family resides there: children from marriages past, adopted children, random other people's children - (teens, these kids are mostly teens). As it grows darker and stormy outside we begin securing the large windows throughout the house: windows line whole walls, and no matter that we lock them they are still able to rise quite a bit. Anything, or anyone could pass between this space. I am uneasy about the windows, others seem less worried. At one point some person comes in to talk with the adopted and "other" kids, I am placed among these kids, as though one of them. We are settled on a sofa. Nothing happens, just some middle-aged nobody shuffling around before us.

There is a long hallway, and the house has shifted into a dormitory of sorts; everyone seems college age. I am definitely an outsider. I am waiting at a bus stop or something, it is an enclosed space, sort of cave-like, when I run into one of my students, S. She seems lost so I attempt to help her, but before I see her through, I end up back at the dorm in a blue-lighted, smokey room. There is a small stage and a young, grungy band appears and begins to thrash and play. There are bubbles coming out of their mouths. They sound an awful lot like Nirvana. I bounce along with the other kids, lightly jumping up and down - the ground beneath us has become trampoline-like. I bounce and bounce. When I lose interest I come to rest on the trampoline mat beneath me, I am semi-posed: one leg draping the other, cigarette dangling from my mouth, eyes brightly looking into the blue face of the singer.

dancing in blue

Dream bit: a group of people are working to find me a fabulous red dress, I try on sexy dress, fun dress, serious dress. But it is a pale, pale blue dress that wins: long and flowing, high neck, cut-out back. I am then lost to dancing - dancing and spinning for what seems like years. I don't see my partner, only his body garbed in black suit/tux. We float/dance around and around.

Unspilt wine, me likes Buble

We were awake last night until 3am trying to put up a Christmas tree. The tree is now lying face-down(?) in our back yard. Trees are difficult.

Dream bit: Guy and I are having a huge party, people are showing up from every chapter of our lives: friends, friends' parents. Our house is large and one room to another flows openly and grandly. I roam from room to room; I come upon the kitchen where some "friends" are, Guy is there too, the energy is cat-swallowed-canary. Guy whisks me away and we head into the center of the living-room, Buble is playing overhead, Sway, I think. We begin to dance while I am still holding a glass of wine (white, yuck). Our dance is graceful and incredibly acrobatic; Guy lifts me as though I were a raindrop and my body turns and twists in ways it hasn't since my (early) twenties. Guests are enjoying our dance, the room is still but for us two.

Catch up

12/13
I am working with an older woman on some pressing matter, so pressing we put calls in to Italy. We are speaking Italian fluently, beautifully. I am wishing I am back there while I hear my female friend chattering on over the phone, it is only then that I realize she has placed a business call when it is 2, or 3, am across the ocean.

Last night: I am working in a large garage that also resembles one of my aunt's old homes. There are cars and residue of lives lived there. There are children and younger family members moving about. When I travel outside I am warned that one of the kid's father is looking to murder his own child. I am told to keep the kids indoors. We take up life in the rotted-out backseats of old Chevys and Fords. There are dogs there too. One in particular, black and feisty, won't stop barking, and we don't want the attention. I cozy up to him, but he immediately begins to bite at my hands, fingers. I grow immune to the sharp serrated teeth piercing my skin. I move one hand from his mouth only to offer him the other in the hopes that he'll remain preoccupied and quiet.

Scene shift. I am working in what was the cafeteria of my old high school. I am compiling Hollywood beauties and studs, literally offering packages of the old stars for mass consumption. There are people milling all around in hopes of buying these people/stars. My Guy is also there with me, and there are some guys from high school at the next table. I am dressed a bit old myself, in a pencil skirt and pressed collar and hair and nails and face all done. I notice the guys from school giving me the eye and watching my figure work its way around the room. I am flirting, but don't want Guy to know. I make my way nearer (to the guys), when one of them asks me for a dime with a devilish grin, I retrieve one and turn my head away as I place it in his open palm, when I turn to look in his face, it is Guy and his palm where my dime resides. This makes me happy.

Tired of fitful sleep

Again, I woke up multiple times last night. I was feeling slightly ill, but hopefully have now slept that away (I unwillingly sprung from cozy bed at noon today).

What I do remember from last night's dream world(s):

I am taking a film class, I recognize no one. I have never watched the films, or read the books they were based on, and of course, there is a test. I just stare at the thin slip of a test and completely blank out. The most interesting thing about this class is that it actually takes place in a stadium-seating theater. I am sitting in an aisle seat, it is dark, dark, dark. I look up and realize that half of the ceiling is missing. No big deal, until it begins raining. I am watching the mist fall on the face of the boy seated in front of me and over a few rows. His profile glistens. Eventually, some one suggests we move down, deeper into the theater where the roof remains intact. The seats here are more formal: straight backs and corporate cushions (no comfort), I sit beside a short Asian fellow, my "friends" are following me.

The sequence of the next dream finds me among a group of young girls/ladies. We are working together to get out of some kind of (bad) situation - only I cannot tell exactly what that situation is. We are working our way through our possessions, gathering what we can so that we can escape. Once we have our stuff together, I go looking for my boots. I end up on the outskirts of a playing field (baseball? soccer? I dunno), and there are cars parked haphazardly; a young girl ("young" to me is a teenager, these are teenage girls and a few pre-teens) suggests I look out on the field: there are numerous pairs of boots baking under the sun. I begin to look for my own.
At some point I end up where I started with the other girls, and I am attempting to fit more stuff in my bags, I seem panicked to get more of my belongings.

Next dream bit: I am in the house where we lived while attending high school. I am soaking in the tub when this guy comes into the bathroom. (he is a guy I know in real life, I know him through family) He is looking out of the bathroom window and talking to me, the conversation escapes me, but I seem to move from watching myself in the tub to watching him stare out of the window and fidget with towels. He hands me an orange towel, but it stinks, so I ask for another. The scene shifts and I am downstairs disagreeing with two of my brothers: there are two cars but all three of us have errands/jobs to do. Our younger brother goes ahead and leaves with one of the cars, which leaves me with my one older brother to figure out what to do. This brother appears at the dining room table with breakfast: pancakes, french toast, but he tells me there are no eggs. No eggs. For some reason this is a big deal.

Lewis Rd. be damned

On Lewis Rd. again. Driving a huge truck - 16-, maybe 18-wheeler. Plowing along (quite near the location on this road as in last dream) when a blonde family of 5 or 6 comes shuffling out onto the road. I begin hollering and throw my left hand out of the window in an attempt to alert them and chase them from the road. The truck as huge as it is, traveling fast as it is, will not stop in time -they must move. The kids are blissfully unaware, the mother sees me and begins hollering in my direction. As I thunder by my left hand goes over the face of one of the children.
The scene jumps forward, I am out of the truck and the family is safe, but the mother finds me and a howling match begins between we two. The mother thinks I am to blame for driving on the road, while I tell her (loudly) no mother should attempt to cross the street with children when a truck is on its way through.

For all of that anxiety, my next dream is my consolation: a quiet, intense sex dream with My Guy.

In the last bit of dream I remember I am lost in France. I struggle to remember my way around the city, but it isn't a city I have actually been to before (no tower standing bright and tall). Dark and industrial - square, looming buildings crowd the streets, I sit on a curb and study the dark sky and the tops of buildings. A parade can be heard from far-off. An old friend joins me, she too is lost. Apparently we both thought we were in Germany.

study, fish

The last few nights my sleep has been interrupted; one night I was too cold, the next too hot and last night my air passage decided it didn't like air. So, I've been waking and remembering bits and then when I really wake up, I remember few bits.
I'm annoyed by this.

Last night what I remember: I am in a classroom, I have no idea what we are studying, I have a manila file with random pages stuffed inside. A kid gives me more pages that I am supposed to do something with, but I dunno. I have among all the pages pictures of the ideal wedding gown, because I don't know what else to do I just keep going back to that page and staring at it, giddily.
I want to pass it to another chick in the class but she is preoccupied with her work. I'm bored. I notice a girl from back in elementary school, Tracy C. She catches sight of me too, and excitedly asks me what I am doing after graduation. I tell her "grad school and working", she then tells me all about her chance to study fish at Fordham, and how she will live in Manhattan and her brothers are moving to Queens. I feign interest.

Another snippet of a dream from last night: I am with one of my aunts, in her home - a home I don't recall ever actually being in. My cousin is there too. Feelings aren't great; I don't feel welcome and my cousin and aunt have some secret language that I am certain is all about me. My aunt is in her kitchen cleaning something heavy, industrial and dulled-silver. She is leaning over it, wiping it with a big, thick towel. She moans for effect, I can tell she'd rather be smoking, or just staring off into the distance. I feel obliged to help her, I take the towel and begin to clean. The dirt is thick, sticky, reddish --- bbq sauce? blood? I don't ask, but feel snookered into doing her dirty work. Some things never change.

Multiples

I remember very little of last night's dreams. One scene really sticks out though:

Traveling down Lewis Road in small town where I went to high school, I see an ambulance and police activity up ahead on right side of the road. I pull over. There are a few cars parked alongside the road, in between theses cars are little kids - real little, like 1- and 2-year-old - bobbling around between the cars. One such little boy is lying on the road when one of the cars begins to roll forward, I am yelling for the car to stop, and it just misses the boy's ear. He is smiling unaware. The air around us begins to fill with white bats, I am told they are albino, and they have black polka dots on them. They are annoying in the same way that bees are when you're trying to get lunch down while outside on a summer day. I make way to the other side of the car, and there is a large sand pit. Inside it there is a dog/human, deep brown and massive. She has her pups frolicking around her. There are numerous pups jumping about; the pups and their mother all have slightly human characteristics. Someone in the dream mentions cloning.

Morning sadness

I went to sleep upset; I found out yesterday that a very cool, funny and sweet guy I knew passed away - about a year ago. I had sent him an email about 6 months ago; he is someone I thought of often. When his email kicked back to me I was worried. My worry was founded, but delayed. I pulled up some of our emails this morning; he cracked me up, really. We had an easy, smart banter, and that gets rarer as people get stupider. I was doubly saddened while in my inbox because I received an email this morning notifying me that the online guestbook created for my late sister will be coming down next week. I was the only one who signed it, so it seems senseless to pay to keep it going. I dunno.
My dreams were rather bland, but thankfully not utterly depressing:

Bland dream #1: I have several blogs. Blog about dreams, blog about poetry. All kinds of crap. Nothing solid stood out to me.

In dream #2, I am in my house with wet hair and a towel wrapped around me. There is a knock at the door and a hulking shadow casts itself in our doorway. I try to sneek a peak from a nearby window, but can see nothing. It isn't until the person is walking away, down the sidewalk, that I realize it is the mailman: a white, younish, hulking dude. He's carrying an (extremely) oversized soft, stuffed football. I call out to him, but he tells me it's too late. Moments later another mailman appears to be moving in my direction with the football. This guy is younger and black - the kind of black skin that looks like a chocolate pool. His smile is broad, as are his shoulders. While he hands off the football to me, he is launching some boyish air-toy to another, unseen boy/guy.

Dream 3 was a bit darker. I am in an old church, someone is dead, or is already dead. I am apparently working with police on the case. There are children throughout the church. I am moving throughout, not certain where I fit in the scene. I find myself kneeling in a pew, with my slate rosaries, crying softly. There is a back room, that seems more like a coat room (old-school, like those in older elementary schools), I am there reviewing information with a cop-like figure. There is nothing concrete that comes to me.

Mansions and no-show celebrities

I awoke from my first dream and promptly forgot it, although there were two lines I kept repeating throughout it that almost made it through to my brief awake time, one was just one word, and the other was a longer, flowery run-on sentence. They were my mantras in the dream, but completely escape me now.

I fell back asleep and my second dream woke me up, in fear, and My Guy too, because I cried out: we went to stay in a huge mansion hotel. It was dark and vacant. We decided to walk throughout, from room to room we went: just dust and antiques. We were pretending to be Bill and Hilary Clinton. We came upon a library and a bar, on opposites sides of a floor, I went into the library and My Guy went into the bar. Once inside the library, I realized it was more of a kitchen; there weren't any books, but there were several large, white square serving platters with piles of slices of moist-looking yellow cake with glossy chocolate icing. The room looked as if it were left in a hurry. I made my way to the bar, and found Guy, he was walking around the room, then he was inside the rectangle bar. I joined him and used the soda gun for a coke, it was delicious but I went about looking for rum to add to it. Then there was a noise just outside the door, we both headed toward it, somehow I ended up in front of Guy; the room was pitch black and I stood just beyond the door as it pushed off its latch and slowly began to open. This is where I began to moan/shriek and I stirred almost awake until Guy woke me and asked me if I had a bad dream; he had heard me moan in fear.

The next dream was on a college campus, not one I recognize. I was with Guy and a girlfriend of mine, we were sitting on low bleachers awaiting some event. My friend and Guy got a little too friendly for my liking and I told Guy how I was feeling, he remained unconcerned, as did my friend, so I walked off hoping to cool down, or find something better. Everything - streets, grass and cars - had that slicked-down look of post rain. It was growing dark as I left campus but I remained only one block away. As I came upon a corner I saw an older man and woman rushing across the street in what looked like panic, or fear. I watched after them a moment then continued in the direction they had come from. Walking uphill, I noticed a younger black couple walking toward me with a ridiculously ugly dog: it's head was a hairless box, there were welts and scabs along it, and his snout looked as though it had been sawed in half. He was creepy looking, but I didn't want to offend the owners and I felt sympathy for this ugly pup, so I said goofily as I passed by, "Tough dog!" I made it just past them before they turned and called back for me, demanding that I come back to them. The taunting in their voices was thick and I began to run in fear.

The last dream I remember from last night again finds me on a college campus. I am apart of some group or program and we are attending a high profile party. I am uninspired but go along. The campus is like an outside mall: dirt walls and dirt floor, but the floor has been paved over with ice. We travel down the corriders on tobagen-like contraptions. I speedily go on and on, until I arrive at the "party". It's basically a hut full of bored-looking or snotty-looking people. I sit around, impatiently awaiting the likes of G. Clooney and other handsome men promised in the brochure. None arrive, though throughout the evening false arrivals are countless.

Come on in

Welcome.

I decided last night after watching Ms. Huffington on The Daily Show (I don't read her blog, but I am not above stealing ideas) that I would start a blog. She suggested to blog about a personal passion. My passions are many but, perhaps only skin deep. I dig writing poetry, but I'm lazy. I adore Sinatra and Dino, but that'd just be creepy. So, I've decided to post my dreams. I started documenting my dreams about a decade ago. I have piles of notebooks with dreams penned inside. It's interesting and terrifying and boring, at times, to follow my emotional and mental health/unhealth via these dream bits.

I hope I don't terrify, or bore, you.