by the time you reach the state line

I drove to Kentucky in less than two hours last night. The roads were slicked-down gleaming all along and it was night perpetually. I was in a bar in Kentucky with friends I don't know, and my husband was lost in a crowd of old-timers.
I was sight-seeing (at night) -- swimming up a stone stairwell; at the top a net was set up to keep out the riffraff. I was riffraff. I tread water a while; when I grew tired I retreated to a big white Cadillac. I backed the car up to a garage and waited for a body.
I covered the backseats in clear plastic to keep blood from seeping into the fabric of the seats. I thought about wearing gloves, covering up any traces of my participation. I waited for a body that did not appear. I was curious who it was.
I drove home from Kentucky alone, in under two hours. It was dark the whole time and the streets were glimmering from recent rain. I made it to my area and the wide street was lit on either side by showy neon signs. The neon colors whirled on the street outside my windshield. I could get distracted.

Jean, Gina, Deirdre, Jacqueline and Lauren

those were our FIVE daughter's names in my dream last night. Five.
I woke with a headache. 'magine that.

swingin'

seeking a new place to live; I don't think my husband is with me, but I continue to search on our behalf. I finally find a cool place that is set on a woodsy road. the other houses aren't too close and there is a rapid flowing creek behind the house. I make my way inside and there are glass panel sliding doors separating a bathroom from a laundry room. a large white kitchen is to my left... the kitchen seems to stretch for miles and at the other end I see old roommates of mine. they make comments that hint that they think they will be living with me. dread rushes through my body: there is no way in hell I want to live with them. Ever. Again. I leave the house and make way through backyards. I am looking for my younger bother. I come across numerous kittens exploring the backyards too. I decide to go back to my new house--I am overwhelmed to have our own home and want to be there. I work my way into our backyard: it's huge and there are lots of mature trees. I find one that sits just next to the creek and find in the crook of its branches a swing seat fastened to thick rope. I climb onto the swing and start to sway. Suddenly I hear Michael Buble's version of "Save the last dance for me" and I swing faster and take leaping starts from the branches with my feet, pushing myself harder into the air. I find it odd/lucky that I am not hitting branches because they seem to shoot out from every angle of the tree's trunk. But I don't brush against a one of them. I notice too that a silken cape is hanging across my shoulders: it is bright purple and royal blue and it feels so silky against my skin and the air working its way through my hair both create a sensual feeling inside of me. I begin to move the cape and move to the music while swinging in the sky.

getting around

Out and about in a city that I do not recognize... there are barely any people walking the streets. I am with an older girlfriend, she is hurried and impatient. We stop in a little deli-like store and my friend decides to desert me. I am upset and the small Asian women working in the store have little sympathy for me, "keep it moving." I walk back outside and my friend is long gone; I am scared to walk these dark, unknown streets by myself, but I continue in the direction where I am staying. Suddenly I am on a city bus and with an old boyfriend. He's hugging and kissing me and two girls on the bus are trying to get his attention. We make our way to the very back and continue hugging and such. We are headed to some sort of family gathering and have to provide a song. I have been singing a song I wrote under my breath throughout all of my walk leading up to this bus ride. I sing it to my boyfriend and he's impressed; he hadn't thought me musical. We make our way off of the bus and are walking along a dark sidewalk. The two girls from the bus have followed us and are now behind us giggling. I'm annoyed.
I am suddenly overhead, watching my truck-driver brother walk along this same sidewalk from the opposite direction. He is toting suitcases too. He looks over his shoulder and realizes I am there. He begins to tell me about the brightest spots from the view of his airplane ride: glittery mountain tops and parades of brightly-dressed people in faraway lands, and the runway in Behran he says was lighted like a field of diamonds.

bit by bit

The biggest bit I can recall from last night:
I am working my way down a muddy hillside with my mother and one of her sisters. They are talking amongst themselves. I get to the bank of water first and begin to load my mother's dishwasher, but it is overcrowded with dirty dishes already and water comes flooding out of it. I am irritated and ask her why she couldn't have taken care of this---I tell her that she is an adult and must take responsibility in her life. She becomes irate and irrational. Her sister and I follow as she begins to make her way back up the hill. We keep a little distance behind her because she is angry and may strike out at us. She reaches a huge black boulder and climbs on top of it and with tears sweating down her face, she yells at us and makes dramatic gestures with both of her arms. She then attempts to commit suicide right in front of us by jumping from the top of the boulder... she jumps and I scream, but she floats gently and lands on her feet. She climbs and tries again. This time her belly surfs the air and I think she is going to go splat on the jagged ground, but again, the air seems to cradle her and she merely floats and is then turned upright and lands her feet.

Girl with a waist

Gathered with family(--always an unfortunate event). A cousin is running the show and watching cooks in a boxy kitchen get the food prepared. She talks to me while she works, telling me about her new name and tiny waist. I listen-- only half interested. She asks me to go into her purse to get something and I find her driver's license and a piece of cardboard -- she quickly makes her way to me and grabs both her license and the cardboard. I ask if she changed her license and she says "yes, see?" she holds her license up to me so that I can see her picture, but places her index finger over her last name. I think that strange. Also, in the picture she is absolutely washed out--she looks like she drank bleach, or at the very least took a swim in some chemical that stole all of the color from her hair, eyes, skin. I don't recognize her. She moves away from me as if she just realized she doesn't recognize me either.

dark chaos

I'm at the house I lived in while a teenager. My two brothers are there, somewhere in one of the dark rooms is our mother. I am sitting in my old bedroom looking out of the window that is directly above the front door to our house. The neighborhood, too, is dark. Suddenly there is noise-incredibly disruptive and seemingly violent or angry. A group of cars drive directly in front of our house, there are loud men inside the cars; they circle another car--my car in the dream--taunting as they zoom faster in tight circles around my car. I cower and hope they can't see in the dark window. I hear them calling me by my first and last name. I run from my room and look for my brothers. They seem unconcerned. I move from door to door and window to window securing the locks. I don't feel safe though.

A large maroon bus appears and it becomes the men's focus. Someone from my periphery alerts me that I am responsible to drive this bus--the passengers are waiting. I am given a ring of keys, but none of them seem to work in the various locks. I am handed a clipboard with a list of the passengers, but the last driver did not keep good records, nor did he notate who paid and who did not. I am weighted by my understanding that I have to straighten all of this out.

The scene shifts and I am sitting on grassy patch of ground with my mom. There are a few intimate strangers with us. They talk to us like they know us, but I don't recognize their faces or voices. We watch from our grassy post as my mom's three sisters parade down a quaint Main Street. The older sister has taken her two younger sisters shopping for their birthdays and is picking up purchases for their birthday celebration later that night. My mom is hurt--she says not only was she not included, but that the older sister had not ever took her out for her birthday. I feel bad for her. The strangers seem intrigued by this dynamic; they begin to dissect the behavior of the older sister and draw her in unattractive light.

dream oozes good

after my long, unexcused absence I offer a dream that I think oozes good:

my husband and I are walking through a home we are preparing to buy: the bathroom is huge and the shower is connected to waterfalls and a large tub. I jump in while the current owners watch me swim around in the warm blue water. my husband watches too, but does not join me. We make our way out to the grounds and realize how much property there is here---we are delighted for the space to grow and privacy afforded to us. The pool area is stone, surrounded by dark, rich mud. At first glance the pool water is murky---brown and gleaming, certainly not diaphanous. I am turned off, although the idea of the pool bleeding into the nearby clean-water creek is tempting. I begin to wade in the pool, wary to go under, but as soon as my husband wades in along with me the water clears--going brightest blue I know of. We begin to swim and splash around. The water is cool, constant movement. It feels divine.

it's the end of the world as we know it

last weekend a friend of my husband's told me, in conversation, that most dreams mean nothing --- scientifically, I guess. it seems that the daily bits we recall are just nonsense and it is only the recurring bits that signify, well, something. he asked of any recurring dreams I have. I have a few. one such dream, I told him, I haven't actually had in about a year, but for a number of years had regularly: the end of the world. in the dreams the world is ending and I play the role of comforter and one who helps guide others to a safe ending, not my favorite role (I don't like endings). though the manner in which the world ends is not ever the same in these dreams, the overall sensations are the same: terror followed by haunting calm. well, last night such a dream I had:
in a large shopping area, the building seems constructed from an old barn. there are people just about everywhere. I am trying to get to my husband and friends. I find my husband when I walk into a large gymnasium; the people inside are perplexed by a large, gooey puddle on the floor. I walk into a kitchen and grab a mop. I begin cleaning up the goo, but soon realize it is "alive", as I mop it, it shifts and bubbles -- like breathing. I begin to clear the room when another large puddle appears. A low voice, from behind me, whispers to me what I am beginning to piece together: this goo will eventually - an immediate eventually - cover every acre of land on Earth and gobble all life up. Panic ensues. People are running, screaming, crying. I work my way through the room soothing the frightened people and then begin to lead them onward -- where to, I'm not sure, but it's evident that they must move on. I wait at the door where I lead them out to catch sight of my husband's face. I worry that I will not see him before everything ends. I wait and wait almost losing my composure completely when suddenly his face appears and we embrace.
~~~
This one definitely has a sci-fi channel feel to it. Lately, I've been an ESPN girl, so I don't know where such things come from in my brain.

another blond actor

and peeing. weird combination, but that's the case. last night's dreams found me in a large auditorium, surrounded by young men. I was lounging in a seat while they shuffled past in the aisle, making eyes and small talk in my direction. One asked my age and I honestly answered. Within the crowd soon I noticed the face of Leonardo DiCaprio. He was smiling big as he made his way towards me. When I left the room to find a ladies room, he followed. While I make my way into the rickety looking bathroom and stall, I can hear an old professor of mine lecturing in the room next door. I make my way to this same bathroom a few times, and each time someone is waiting outside the icky stall. The last time I am inside the stall I notice a large window. The sky outside is dark blue and suddenly the sky is illuminated by bright white fireworks. They shine like diamonds and go on and on.

elevator to the side

bits of bits:
waiting for an elevator to arrive. when I get in, I realize it is an elevator that moves side to side. I move to the right. On the elevator ride with me is Brad Pitt, only I don't notice until I have stepped off and look back inside. I am holding two pairs of panties in my hand, and I have taken the elevator to find a bathroom because I really have to pee. Brad motions at my panties and smiles big. I turn and walk away. The area is dark, and has a basement feel. There are lines of people, mostly women, parading around in their best lingerie. And they are carrying big shopping bags. I seem to be in the midst of a lingerie fashion show/sale extravaganza. I continue my search for a ladies room; finally I come across a short flight of stone steps and make my way down to the ladies room. Sigh.

pina colada = crazy dream(s)

Not my usual drink, but summer is confronting us soon, so I enjoyed one last night with some friends. My dreams are a bit big, so a bit tangled too. I write as I remember:

On the side of a road with friends and two of my ex professors, they are thrilled to see me and much looser than they ever were while on campus. Both professors are smoking cigarettes - while I knew the one did, the other seems a big surprise. We are talking writing and they are encouraging me to do something ... some kind of contest or reading. We walk them to their cars and they throw their arms around me before they hop in and disappear.
Next everything gets a bit ... more. Lots going on. I am in a large room with chairs set up through out, people are everywhere though I don't really recognize anyone. A murder has occurred and there is a television nearby relaying every single bit of information on the case. I am transfixed. A movie star blond is the suspect. A tall man approaches me and reminds me of my role in all of this: I owe someone my left thumb, and I must pick one of my fingers to cut off and eat. I am horrified and begin to walk away from him. Not only does he follow but he has gathered supporters and they are reminding me, in unison, of "my word" and how it must be kept.
I grow frantic and find myself inside my childhood home. The large front bay window is undressed and I see a group of reporters and police walking up our hilly driveway to talk with me. They have freaky grimaces on their faces. When they knock I tell them calmly that I will not open the door. Somehow I have now become the suspect in the death of a man I do not know/never met.
The scene switches momentarily and I am among the "finger" people again, outside where clothes are out drying on a line. My husband is there and we get into an argument - I don't know whose side he is on. I have a pair of scissors in my hand and I am waving them around as I grow more frantic and speak/yell with my hands. I nic the right cheek of my husband's face and the thin gash quickly spills over with lots of blood. I apologize, and he seems to realize it was an accident, but the others are not as easily convinced. I have given them more ammunition to believe that I am the killer.
I am back in my childhood house and there are reporters and police coming again to collect and question me. I recognize one lady - a bitch I worked with before; her face is broad with glee, she's getting off that I am in such a position - it's pasted on her face. I tell them again that I will not open the door.
Dark patches of faces and conversations thread through until finally I am beside some investigators as they are removing a body from a car off the side of a dark road. These men, who before scared hell out of me, now smile and joke with me as they pull a blood-soaked body from the back-seat.
The true story unfolds: the movie star did kill the man because he was abusive, then under the threat of life in prison, or worse, she took her own life and wrote out her confession/circumstances. I am exonerated and swiftly pulled from the crowd by the "top dog", he stands me against a white wall and in front of a large crowd applauds my "toughness" and unwillingness to speak with reporters and police. I'm still in shock and stare out blankly.

Ew, oh

My first dream finds me at the ob/gyn. My doctor is a young guy; he's handsome but he ain't Dr. George Clooney. He begins his work by "massaging" my labia. In mere seconds I am excited and he thrusts me off of the examination table and we go at it passionately.
In the next scene I am wandering around a long dark country lane. I have no shoes on, so I am sliding around on a piece of cardboard to keep from getting muddy or cut on broken glass. I know no one and no one seems interested in helping me return home. An older man has his car idling by the entrance and I ask him where he is headed. He tells me toward "route 312". I think to myself that must be near my home because routes 212 & 412 are near it. I ask him if his travels take him in the direction of the town I live in, and tells me emphatically, no! I don't believe him and sulk and continue down the dark country lane.
I walk for hours.
Finally I make my way into town and enter the apartment building where I am living. The hallway is long and is broken up by short chunks of steps. I essentially have to walk through my neighbors apartment to get to my own, at least when going this way. Everything is white - bright white. As I walk up I notice the Kardashian family (I am ashamed to admit I know who they are, thanks Chelsea Handler) is seated on a big cushy white sofa watching television. My mom is with them and seems to fit in perfectly. I say hi and continue to my apartment.
When I get inside my apartment is quite opposite the halls - everything is low lit and warm; one of my lamps have burned out, I continue through the apartment and when I get to the front find that while the larger wood door is securely shut, the wrought iron "screen door" is blowing open in the breeze. It is dark outside and I try to turn on the porch light - it takes a few flips of the switch to get it on. I am worried that someone is lurking nearby. I retrace my steps and find a window open in a side room. I immediately bolt out of the back door, back into the bright white hallway and find the Kardashians. I see that they have no intention of rising from their seat, or stirring from the television, but I try anyway. I ask them sweetly if they will return to my apartment to look through it with me and ensure that no one is hiding there. I make lavish promises, but they seem interested not at all.

Everything eggplant

I am wandering through a neighborhood I don't recognize. There are reports that a family has abandoned their home; I come upon the home and the garage unit/apartment attached to it. The yard is in disarray and through the undressed windows I can see clothes strewn and mattresses splayed about. There are clothes hung on the wall too; my eyes catch sight of a one-piece shiny eggplant-colored suit. I get a closer look and frown to find it is a size 1. I move on and realize there are people nearby watching me. I rush away, nervous for unknown reasons.
I find myself in a convenient store and at once begin my search for ice cream. There is a counter with a soft ice cream server, but all of the cones are mushy and look like they are covered in dirt. I stare at them unhappily - I really wanted some damn ice cream.
Next I find myself in a large, old apartment building; all of the walls leading up the steep steps are eggplant. At the top I come across, S, an old friend who is pregnant. She wants to show me her apartment, but instead we remain in a large hall just outside her door. Everywhere there is a pile of mess, and the walls again are eggplant, though glossy here.

Thank you, Dahling

Bits: I am making a movie in France with Geo. Clooney. We barely speak to one another but stand with a faceless other in a small circle and laugh - big, belly laughs. We then walk through a beautiful French park. I am wearing heels and am exceptionally tall, my long legs are exposed. We walk along Champs Elyees, and I feel at home.
We end up in a science lab room and the director from my graduate program is there. He tells me that he thinks I am the most attractive woman in the program (ew).
I somehow become involved with Sinatra and Dino. We are at a car dealership watching through a large window as the vehicles in the lot are moved around. A giant truck is parked right before the window with two smaller trucks nestled close. Someone puts a bag over the smaller trucks and they disappear.
I lose interest watching the cars and leave. I walk down a hall and end in my childhood bedroom. I stand before a mirror and realize I still have my sexy costume from the French film on. I begin to play with it and fondle my body. I begin a strip tease. The window is wide open and there is no curtain. I see a few faraway faces and wonder if they are watching me. Suddenly the house is in the air and I am flying (in the flying house) over the field --- it is expansive, the small group I realize is a much larger range of groups. People are playing games, laughing and someone has dressed up in a costume. Two pre-teens are arguing over who gets to have their picture taken with the costumed entity.
In the last scene I am with my husband who tells me this story: as he is leaving my work parking lot he sees a woman from his work out of the corner of his eye (I don't like this woman). He continues on to his next destination and when he returns to his car, the woman is sitting in the driver's seat of his car in a raincoat. She placed a long rope in a ringed-pile by the front tire. (Creepy)

phew

I made it to 32.

My memory of last night's dreams has momentarily lapsed, should I recall them I'll share.

Last night was another poetry reading and workshop. Me and one of the members of that workshop are thinking out loud about starting another workshop, to compliment the monthly one, but also to instigate more writing. We'd like to meet much more often, if not once a week, then biweekly.
I've been sending out work to literary journals and magazines. I keep in mind Bukowski, as I await responses:

hell is a closed door
even when starving
the rejection slips hardly ever bothered me:
I only believed that the editors were
truly stupid
and I just went on and wrote more and
more.

M&M

Working with Eminem on his writing; he has been unable to write and so he contacted me to help him climb his writer's block. We work at a small desk together; I write out his lyrics in an attempt to jog his creativity. He tells me that he wants to adopt a fresh voice/perspective in his lyrics, I still suggest that he read through his old work, both for inspiration and to recognize the parts he does not want in his new work. Slowly, but surely, he begins to feel the urge to write.

Going to the doctors (OB/GYN). Sitting on the examination table, my male doctor is chatting with me, and then explaining the procedure he is going to perform. I am stiff with fear. He tells me that my last results confirm that I have cystic fibrosis, and he inserts a tube into my vagina. I am certain that he is wrong, and I begin to tell him that the results are not mine, or that the information has been tainted. He goes on explaining the procedure. The scene jumps and I am following him through a maze of offices. We end in a small white office and he begins to kiss and fondle me. It all happens quickly and then he vanishes. I begin running through the halls looking for him.
It turns out a group of us are trapped inside the office building. We can look through windows and see life going on outside, but no one outside can see us. We're like ghosts. Then we find a fire escape that leads down to a large lot with parked cars. We make our way down and into one of the cars. We flee the lot and begin racing along a highway; police are hot on our trail.

Zoom zoom zoom

bit: my husband buys me a new car, but it's a big (stupid) SUV. We take it for a spin through an unfamiliar part of town; the off and on ramps of the highway are sharp curves. The steering is great, but I realize that I cannot see out of the backside on the driver's side: huge blind spot. We continue on without accident and end up parked outside of a department store. We go inside. When we return to the vehicle we find that we parked right outside of the door, and we have not only left the ignition on and the stereo blaring, but I have the driver's door wide open. We hop in and traverse through the unfamiliar city. The buildings are beautiful and old. The sidewalks are white and clean. There seems to be a peacefulness to the city.
Next we are in my childhood home and I am on the living room floor with one of my old friends. My husband is on the sofa watching us talk back and forth. Suddenly I pull all of my hair forward to cover my face and through the thick strands I watch my husband and friend talking. I grow upset because he holds his hand close to hers. I tell my friend I have to go to work but also tell her that she should hang out with my husband to gauge her reaction. She is nonchalant.

8 is great (kind of)

this just in:
8. I am pregnant and me and my husband go to the doctor to find out the baby's sex. We sit expectantly, the doctor talks to us from inside a medicine/supply closet. as he begins to tell us, I jump with glee, expecting that he will tell us we are having a girl, but he tells us we are having a boy and I am obviously disappointed. I am in disbelief because I was certain we had a girl coming first.

the long and winding list

1. accepted on a wedding show, but the host (Clinton Kelly?) thinks that my wedding planning is perfect, specifically my gown. I think to myself, that's cool, but I want them to buy some fuller flower arrangements.
2. at some resort with group of people I don't know. standing at balcony, bar below; a fight erupts and one man is seriously injured. when I look down again after gaining composure, I see that someone has attached a mop stick to the fallen man and is using his body to wipe around blood on the dark hardwood floor - his open eyes stare blankly above. I manically call out, and people try to calm me by telling me that the man is dead, as if that somehow rationalizes, dignifies the horror.
3. trying to get out of resort. Sinatra is my partner. we run through dark rooms; up and down spiral staircases we trample. outside we try to find a car to get us gone. there is a traffic jam due to a tractor trailer blocking an intersection.
4. I am standing in line waiting for, I don't know what, when a producer approaches me and asks me about modeling. She tells me I am recognizable and I tell her I did print work in NY. we chat further and she offers me a job.
5. at the resort with my friend DS. we arrive under a carport and immediately she changes into swimwear. I walk out to the pool area and know no one. D is off laughing with strangers around a bonfire.
6. I am standing beside a long sidewalk; I watch as a group of young girls and guys meet up and begin to pair off. As they pair up, they walk two-by-two down the sidewalk toward me. I laugh to myself that the couples nearly resemble each other, and that they seemed to have picked a likely version of themselves. Steve Kroft, from 60 Minutes (whose name I had to wikipedia this morning) is walking among the kids interviewing one couple.
7. I am with my husband and I notice that his nose has a long, syringe-like growth on it. Where his normal nose ends, this fine growth continues on, with a tiny bulb at its end; it looks like an antenna, perhaps has those abilities.

Dreaming is Free

Low and behold, I am dreaming, but not able to recall much over the last few nights.
Last night I dreamed I was waiting among a group of family and friends for theatrical show... a handful of performers then comes waddling down a long hall and I recognize one of my students, MG. She excitedly runs to me; I'm smoking and keep trying to hide the cigarette behind my back, but realize the smell of it as well as the smoke rising behind me are dead give-aways. She says nothing. I am then in a large dark parking lot, waiting for family in a big, busted van.
Blah, blah, blah. Not much interesting.
I did have a very disturbing dream a few nights ago, and perhaps I've tricked myself into less memory because of it. I'd rather not share it on this page.

In happier, dreamier news: my husband and I are finally figured on our honeymoon. We'll be headed to Montreal in June. Sometimes it doesn't feel like we are still newlyweds, but indeed we are. We're only three months deep. And it's been a delicious time.

Rambling Barrel

Dreams, dreams, dreams: I was all over the place last night.
In my first remembered bit I showed up looking like a slob to my cousin's wedding. My pants were too big and my blouse was crinkly wrinkled. My cousin was wearing a purple floral dress with nylon running shorts underneath, and felt the need to keep pulling up her skirt and show me.
Another cousin and I were then lost among a crowd of strangers in a backyard. He told me to come with him on errands. We hopped into his car and we were off. He drove his car on a roller coaster track, speeding. I was nervous, also there was no front window/windshield. He was just driving along the track unconcerned, while I melted into a nervous wreck beside him.
In another dream sequence I am late for my first day of work at my summer gig. 10 minutes late and there are families waiting out on the playground in the rain. Luckily (?) my one co-worker showed up early and readied the place and turned off the alarm, but still I worried that I showed an irresponsibility uncommon to me.
I was reheating pizzas with strangers in kitchens I don't recognize. There were many strangers in my dreams too, only three people did I know.

Fabulous, please

My dreams last night were typical: a rabid dog was growling at me, chewing on me. I was attempting to escape both the dog and its master... a man who I didn't recognize. He was the head of the family in a home where I had sought refuge. I had had to leave my home earlier in the dream due to bad weather and criminal activity (baddies were moving through the neighborhood). I ran and ran, finding a home, seemingly, removed from danger. Inside there was much commtion as to where to hide me, because the daddy was coming home. When finally he arrived I was forced from my hiding place and running down the long gravel drive. That's when the dog happened upon me. Growling and chewing.
I ended up running through backyards, and trying to hide among shrubs. I came upon an apartment building built inside a tree. I stepped inside the door and stood very still, hoping the young female tenants wouldn't notice me and call the police. I then pretended to be one of them, and almost fooled them. Off running again, I found myself inside a kiosk, trying to blend in with the foreign men laughing over coffee and newsprint. Found out again, and my running continues. There is a man who wants to rescue me; I know him only as Canuck.
--------------------------------------
Last night I went to a poetry reading. It was fabulous. Lee Upton was one of the featured poets, as was the local poet Lynnel Jones. Both women were supreme. I was incredibly excited to be offered the chance to read upon the same stage as them. It was a wonderful and warm crowd, and I felt so kindly received. A great evening, and of course, my baby - husband, people have actually asked, "oh, how old is your baby?" "36..." I offer, a bit sheepish - beaming in the audience made it
all the more thrilling and rewarding.
Today/tonight there are more poetry readings at a local literary/music festival. It's so great to move among this crowd.

Three Dreams

Rushing to write; me and my baby got a busy day and night ahead.

In the first dream I am with my "family" in a white van. I don't recognize one single person in my family as anyone I've ever known in real life. My father is the driver and I am in the back of the van with a pile of little sisters. We pull up on a farm and our father goes in to see if we are welcome to stay for the night. He returns to tell us to ready for dinner with our hosts. One by one, I ready my little sisters: leotards (lacy white) and tattered frilly dresses. The youngest, no older than two sticks to me, shy and tired. We enter the home and immediately the son and I are attracted to one another. The son just happens to be Joe McIntyre. He is attracted to my way with the babies. And such. Dinner goes on.
As night falls, Joe and I meet up. He takes me for a walk, where we come upon a large ship. Then he takes me below deck and we have sex all night.

Perhaps this next dream is a reaction to the last? My husband and I are attending some kind of meeting. The director from my master's program is there. People are lined up in two rows, sitting. I take the seat on the end in the second row and my husband becomes angry with me because he wants the seat where I am sitting. I refuse. He slithers off to the front row and pouts, and glares at me.

At some point this sequence changes only in faces. My husband and the director kind of disappear and my sister, M appears next to me. Our conversation turns to death, of course. She is saying that we all die alone, and I am becoming very upset. She looks me straight in the face with her bright blue eyes and asks if I know about her death? Does she die alone? break down and tell her that, yes, she does die alone. I go on to tell her that of all the people, places, things in my life I would only change one thing: bring her back to life, even with all of the pain/trouble she had to endure. Just to have her here.

Cistern

Hello Fools. I love April Fool's Day. I won't be playing any pranks this year though.
No joke.
Well, I will certainly try not to.

Dream bits:
Wandering around dark neighborhood... there is a carnival, or festival feel to the little town. People are standing around, sitting around - on benches, doorsteps, corners. I am gathering signatures. That's my mission, though I don't know what/who for. I pass by two young men sitting outside of their house a couple of times and they call out to me to have them sign my petition, but I am shy about them. I am worried that they will make fun of my hand, or be weirded out. I go in another direction, but soon find myself back by their house. Finally, I answer their calling. I walk into their kitchen with them and somehow realize these two are brothers. The one I don't know well, and I am certain that he doesn't know about my hand, the other I have been having an affair with. I try to hurry through my rant and gather their signatures so that I can get out of there. The brother who I have been seeing, motions to me that he will be joining me, and hopefully we can sneak off. We leave and begin looking for a place to have sex.
We walk into a church-like building, the office part though. As we are walking in, we can see through a window a man (priest?) walking from one building to this one and we are nervous that we won't be able to find a secret place.
We walk up steps. Lots of steps. At the top, the steps deposit us into a large hallway. It now seems that we are in the school part. Most of the rooms are empty but there is activity in some: Sunday school, lectures. Suddenly, the guy I am with turns into my friend, KTG. She is laughing with the women inside the door and asks one of them if she can have a cookie. There are tables of refreshments set up. One of my cousins appears then too. She is walking down a flight of stairs, coming from the floor above. The three of us begin to walk down the next set of stairs. My friend is getting a kick out of the fact that there is a box of cakes with the Reese's label, but there is no peanut butter, or chocolate in the cake.
She, my cousin, is with an old man when we meet up with her. He is trying to figure out why no one can remember the first word to an old German song. She knows it, "cistern" and starts singing the song. At first her voice sounds lovely: soft and natural, but then she begins to put it on and it sounds terrible. I begin walking away, literally placing my hands over my ears. Later we are being driven home, and in the backseat I try to tell her to tone it down. She smiles at me. I tell her maybe she shouldn't sing such serious songs, that her voice wasn't built for it. She nods and thinks it over. Outside the back window of the car I watch the treetops - there seem to be thousands of them. It's a long ride home.

Electric, horses

Gathered in a large home with expansive grounds. The home apparently belongs to my family. There is minimal lighting inside. I wander around, and in my little brother's room find a switch and turn it on. A bulb appears dangling from the ceiling (kind of track lighting ?) and it gives off a fluorescent blue light. One of my older brothers appears and we decide it will be a night light, for the light illuminates the long hall outside of the room. Meanwhile, our younger brother is outside with a crew of friends and folk. There is a race set to begin: horses and cars and bikes. I am a little nervous that my daredevil brother will get himself hurt showing off. The house is surrounded by a large circular gravel drive. There are parks on the grounds too. I walk outside trying to catch a glimpse of my brother among the racers; I cannot tell who is who. The race begins and I make my way across the estate to the other side by benches, and where the drive expands into the width of a real street. Horses are charging down, cars are zooming, and I am worried all the while. I keep scanning the racers when I finally catch sight of my brother: he is jogging! A sense of relief and surprise overcomes me.
I am then running down a lush green path with a male friend. He is on his phone with his girlfriend assuring her that we are on a work assignment. We are running and running when I suddenly see ahead a large tree splitting through the roof of a big house. I stop my friend just before he steps on an electrical wire, and remind him of what happened to my brother's landscaping friends (true story). We peer down and can see children playing inside the home. We decide to go down and see what has happened. We carefully make our way inside of the home, and find the children and a mother. She doesn't seem at all surprised that we have climbed inside her house. She shows us around briefly, but mentions nothing of the tree. She seems to want us to stay. I begin to feel uneasy, and my friend has disappeared and so have my shoes. I tell her I must go and begin to climb out of her home when she tells me that I can walk out of the door. She is sitting before a television, and has a movie paused, I don't want to keep her from watching it so I make my way quickly to the door. The house is really an apartment I realize once outside the door in the building hall. I find my way outside and find a huge unpaved lot. It is industrial looking there except for the house. I begin to run across the rocky lot, barely touching it fearful of glass and wary of the deep puddles.
I make my way to the street and up ahead see a shopping plaza. I notice there is a Kmart there and think of how I can buy a pair of flip flops - should I ask a stranger outside to do so for me, or risk breaking the "no shirt, no shoes" service rule. I remember this Kmart from another dream; I have been here before. I grow a little relieved knowing that I only need to walk a few miles on the road ahead to make it home.

Piss and Rings and Things

Gathered at a large school of sorts, I am among a group of volunteers cleaning up. Each room we walk in stinks of piss, namely because there are dogs throughout the building and they piss where they want to. Small dogs, big dogs, all dogs show no shame in their habits, nor any inclination to make change. We work from room to room with mops and brooms, hoping to clean the air of the sick sour smell. A few of us, after mopping and scrubbing, find our way to the very top floor. It can barely be seen from floor belows even though the space above the stairs is completely open - the ceiling does not make any appearance in the stairwell (front room) until the very top of the building. There are deep wood railings tracing the rambling of the steps and at the very top, this railing cordons the top floor. My interest is piqued when I notice a library on the top floor. I mention this to a friend, she decides to come with me, even though she cannot see the library. We work our way up the stairs, finally come to the top floor and it is a scene from king's quarters: dark wood and rich velvet, purples and reds. We walk through the area; it is in a circle shape, accounting for the entire building (round) ... there are gowns from centuries ago set up on busts, books alive in leather bound, beds - 4-posts. I pull a gown off of a bust and hold it to my body, it is a deep shade of plum and weighs much. It then that we notice men watching us, the "staff" - we have mistakenly stumbled into an area where we aren't supposed to be. The men give chase and we hustle to disappear, after haphazardly replacing the gown.
Later, when recovered from the scene, we are sitting with friends, one of whom is my cousin. She is excited to share with us the details of her wedding, and we listen closely, seeing her words. She then shows us her wedding ring that has just arrived: it is gold with a large opaque red stone. Oddly she is wearing it on her right hand, on her pinkie. We tel her that she should be wearing it on her ring finger, but she doesn't know which finger that is. One of the girls shows her, but when she places the ring on that finger, the stone breaks off. I pick up the stone and press it to the gold band, hoping it isn't truly split from it.

no reply

For two nights in a row I had dreams regarding "teamwork". I was linked with a group of people - some known in real life, others known only in dreams - to perform tasks. The first night found us in a dirt mall given the task of finding the perfect dress. The group I was with rummaged rack after rack. I wandered down the aisles unimpressed and a little confused. The second night's dreams of tasks has grown cloudier - I remember almost nothing while sitting here staring at the screen.
Last night's dreams were odd:
What I remember most clearly is showering in a stand-up shower. The doors were glazed glass and I kept watching the clock through them, afraid I was late to work. I could only see the last two digits on the clock, :27 ... I kept telling myself that it was the 7am hour, but truly feared that it was 10:27 and that I was outrageously late to work. I kept telling myself that that is what I get for partying... although I had no memory of partying (a really good party, indeed). There was a line of dark towels hanging over the doors - blues and browns. One by one I noticed that they were drenched, having fallen into the shower when I turned to shampoo my hair. I was quite annoyed and tried wringing them out while still in the shower. Their weight was a nuisance, and the shower water prevented me from making any headway with the wringing.
Once out of the shower I am with a coworker, KL. She assures me that I am not late and that I should stop for a piece of pizza. I agree with her and we head into a pizza shop. She orders my piece and I think that I should have it to go, but she again assures me there is no need to rush. The pizza is huge and as I carry it to our table it drapes over my arm, losing its juices. No napkin. No plate.
I find myself next in a theater, sitting among folks I don't know, when suddenly my husband appears beside me. We are then walking through the theater, looking for our seats. We find them and when I turn to talk to my husband, he has disappeared and my old friend, KM, is in his place. Her right cheek is facing me and I notice that her skin has aged and acne is ruling it. She looks worse for wear. She is talking non-stop, and telling me how all of the folks gathered have come to make love to her. I have no reply to offer.

so slight

My bit from last night, is just that --- a bit:

I am going to a nightclub with my gal pal, JM. We arrive and the entrance is caged: a fence surrounds it, and we must climb a fence set of steps... we climb and at the "door" (more fence, this time with a gate) the young lady asks for our ID. My friend goes through the door, but for some reason I am forced to climb over it. Mid-climb, my left leg becomes stuck -- it has somehow been caught in the fence. I remain dangling as other guests walk by...

List O Dreams

When I'm feeling lazy, as I do now, I tend to rely on the old "list" --- its succinctness keeps me interested and unattached, also, I decided to give a brief origin of where I believe these dreams may have been born. Here goes:

1. My late sister's naked, dead body is on display; settled on top of a car, her body is being taken through a center of town. I want to cover her up, but cannot catch up with the car.
Yesterday I spent some time thinking about my sister, in death, most particularly, I was thinking about her autopsy and then her cremation. Both thoughts bother me deeply; I picture vulnerable, defenseless bodies --- my sister's body --- and I hope that the people who tended to her were kind and not monsters. I read a horrible and gross account of things that may have happened to Marilyn Monroe when she died and was struck by disgust and images that won't stay from my head.

2. My husband is a jerk; he allows another woman to play with his hair and when I come around I find a thousand berets in his hair. The woman is a friend in real life, but in the dream she is a trouble maker, and my husband is, like in so many other dreams, oblivious to my concern.
These dreams really, REALLY annoy me. They almost make me think I am crazy. The thing is is that my husband and I are harmonious 99% of the time; when we do argue it's typically short-lived... still I have these insecure dreams...

3. A cousin of mine is on the phone with me; while I've been looking for the perfect dress for some important event, she has been sitting on her butt. An aunt apparently calls her and tells her about the perfect dress for me, but she decides that she is going to keep the dress because she has lost weight - which she hasn't. The dress is dark blue meshed with darker blue and strapless... I am annoyed with her but say nothing.
I'm wearing pink to my cousin's upcoming reception...and dress shopping with another cousin for hers in the near future.

ghost

The beginning of my dream finds me among high school people who were not my friends. We are wandering through a park, and my wedding ring is causing a commotion: am I really married in high school? I half dig, half denounce the attention. A few of us girls are dancing on the ledge of a fountain: twisting, though the song is not insinuating we should be twisting.
Then I am in a room with people who I don't recognize; there are large piles of laundry to be sorted, almost all of it is blue. An old friend shows up and says she'd like to take a blue piece of material as a tablecloth. I am helping her, and suggest that she not take blue, because her whole house is blue. I leave with her, and we place the cloth over her battered wood picnic table --- the cloth looks lovely (light yellow with big bright flowers), but it is not large enough for the table, so we must return for more cloth.
My mother is waiting around for me. We are in the neighborhood where I went to high school; I find her staring out of my old bedroom window. She wants to go gather the remainder of my late sister's belongings from her old house. Knowing the condition of the place, I tell her I do not want to go with her. Plus, I am secretly hoping that my sister's ghost will appear and yell at my mom.
Meanwhile, I am supposed to be looking at a new apartment; I have a few friends with me and when we enter the apartment they start doing laundry and turning on the TV. I'm a little nervous because I don't want the landlord to think I am rude and irresponsible... as I am checking out a large bathroom off of the kitchen area, my friend, DB, comes to tell me someone is banging at the door: a small, arched doorway, when I open the door, the landlord is standing there. He's a tall man with kinky black hair and a hook nose, he looks Mediterranean. He doesn't seem to mind my friends laying about.

lost in the play

In a city I don't recognize, I wait patiently in a crowded book shop. I sit on a small flight of stairs and stare out of the large windows and watch the rain travel to us. There are shoppers throughout. We are all going to make our way over to the local auditorium/theater for some fun... at the theater I am sitting front row with some girlfriends. Students of mine are onstage, dancing and cartwheeling. It's a festive scene until some of the girls, onstage, begin to falter, and fall. The audience is laughing -- cracking up -- and the girls grow red and weepy. I am laughing too --- it isn't that the girls are falling, but how serious they are about their dances. It reminds me of my own childhood. I am leaning over in my chair, when one of my girlfriend mentions that George Clooney is in the audience. I turn around, and directly behind me sits George and a few other celebrity men. I grow red this time. I turn back around, and the show is ending. The room falls silent, and we realize there is no "MC" --- at my feet there is a "sound box" and a microphone. I pick up the mic and make a few comments about the students and thank everyone for coming out.
The End.

Bears and Brothers and Hitchcock, O my!

Various bits:
At my eldest sister's, hanging out in her garage when suddenly a big angry bear arrives and chases everyone inside. I am the last in line and I turn immediately upon entering the house through the garage to slam the door in his face and hold my body against it. He is so strong my whole body bounces against the wood while trying to stand strong; soon though he begins busting through the skinny wood door. I wait, and when I feel ready, I swiftly release the door and go through another and slam that one shut. This door is mostly wooden, but has a square glass window cut into it; I can now see the bear as he angrily tries to get inside. I am incredibly frightened and no one is around to help me as the bear begins to break through the glass...(at this point, my husband wakes me in real life because I've been crying out).
I am then in my childhood home; the house is being completely renovated and so there are many strangers moving through the halls and rooms. One larger blond woman, in particular, is showing me around... everyone seems engrossed in his/her work. The living-room is being changed into the kitchen - as you enter through the front door there are white cabinets and counters on the left wall --- two empty spaces in the cabinet line-up, I am told are for a washer/dryer combo.
I continue through the house and make my way to the master bedroom --- it is now much larger than it was, and while my Mom's bed is where it was 20-some years ago, the rest of the room resembles a warehouse, or factory. There are chairs scattered throughout, and young men resting on them. My Mom is there, looking disheveled. Everyone is waiting around for my little brother. Finally he shows and sinks into one of the chairs. He has a hat on - a rustic looking hat, and through the cutout top his hair is peeking through: orange dreadlocks. I make a comment about his hair and he laughs and tips his head forward to show off the new hair. I sit in a seat and there is a lamp beside me, someone mentions that this seat is meant for my brother --- the lamp moves freely and I move it from my right side to my left. There is a large mirror that extends from it, so that one can watch themselves - sit?
In my last scene I am with my tap instructor from college. We are working on some kind of journalism/investigation. We are walking through a quiet, old town --- it seems to resemble a Hollywood set - everything seems cardboard thin. We are going to a theater to see some work; when we arrive we are met by numerous men in waiter uniforms, and they are telling us to sign our names so that we can see "Psycho" for free... we get to see it for free because apparently the company we are working for has donated $200-and-some to the theater. My instructor doesn't seem too impressed, or happy, about this arrangement, as though it goes against our ethics. We are then told that later we too will need to make a contribution.

Ridiculous

Walking through my childhood neighborhood; I leave the yard of an old friend and go walking alone. I come to a steep hill that seems to run like an alley through a dusty, dirty patch of space closed-in by large, crumbling homes. There is a group of students who are striding down the hill, at first I begin to follow them, thinking that BGC must be near by, but then I turn, and walk back up the hill. I am in a classroom setting, but we are all adults. My friend CG is there with an attractive boy friend. He is flirting with me and I am trying to behave, or at least not let on that I enjoy his attention. When the class departs, he and I have sex on the lab table we were sitting.

Then I am in a boutique where the flighty woman who runs it is desperately trying to sell me the latest fashions: blue boots that ooze like jelly on my feet, clear plastic bubble shoes, and other crazy sorts. I am not interested in buying any, but I continue to try them on in the hopes of finding something redeemable in her stock.

I end up in a garage/apartment where my mom is living. It is dimly lit. My little brother has apparently robbed her and we are watching video footage of the crime. We can only see my mom though; she's like Michael Jackson - her face is covered with bandages and she is wearing a towel/scarf over her head and face. She looks as though she has had plastic surgery, with her nose gauzed-up. She moves as if stuck in slow motion. Finally, my brother arrives and he is trying to state his case. His hair has fallen out, and so there are only little wisps (like on a newborn) and there are pimples all over. I worry that this is a result of the drugs: his hair and his behavior.

In real life: welcome, SPRING!

Back in the city

I am very excited to be moving back to the city in last night's dream. And I keep wondering where my husband will put all of his things, and how I talked him into this. The apartment we choose is long and dark, my friend DH apparently use to live in it and she is showing me all of the lamps. The windows have bars on them and this makes me happy because I think that it will prevent any intruders from getting in. While the front of the apartment is street level, as I move deeper into the apartment and look out of the windows, I find that we are now a floor above the road. It is very dim throughout.

In the next scene, I am on a city street waiting in line. A long line, for what? I am dressed in a long, slinky black dress/suit, and spiked heels. I recognize faces from elementary school, high school. Behind me in line is my friend, V, alive again, and speaking a mix of Spanish and gibberish. She seems happy and caught up in her imaginary world.

chaos

Flaky bits of dreaming:
I am working in the lingerie department of a huge department store, and while I am supposed to be working, I am shopping. I tug a huge cart through the crowded store. My boss comes across me and I have to pretend that I am re-shelving the items in my cart. I wander around looking for the perfect dump site for my cart; I end up in a narrow hall filled with old ladies and designer clothes. I wait for their attention to lose me and ditch the cart; I am replacing an armful of bras to their racks, "working".
Next I am at my real job, only the room is hysterical; on top of the usual younger students in the class, there are a load of older, louder students piled around various tables. Our staff is unable to gain control of the room, while I am initially preoccupied with the condition of our materials closet. I soon turn my attention to a young co-worker, CD, and she tells me that she is pregnant. I immediately ask how her boyfriend dealt with this unexpected news, she is wishy-washy with the details. I then go about the task of calming the room; I raise my voice to the rafters and wait to gain control. I then shoo away the older talkers (nearly getting into a fistfight with one young surly student) and deal with my own students.
Then I am lost in London, on the tube. I am sitting among a group of strange, but attractive, men. They assure me I will be alright, but as the night comes on, I begin to grow more and more fearful that I will not ever be reunited with my group. I finally make my way back to the museum(?) where I last saw people I know, but there is no trace of familiar faces. The large old building is eerie and growing darker.

he is a water sign

My first bit of dream is back in my high school neighborhood. I am at the home of my good friend, V. I am with her mom who is still visibly wounded by the loss of her oldest daughter. She asks a favor of me: acquire V's death certificate and then bring it to school so that her death is confirmed and she will not be listed as a delinquent. I do as asked and when I am holding the slip of death I notice that it lists V's death as July 1, 1991 (she was killed 10 years later, in real life) and I am confused, but seeing her mother torn by grief I decide not to bring up the discrepancy. Plus, I have no idea what year this dream is taking place --- it feels older, but I have no reference outside of the certificate.

In the next bit, me and a few others are chasing a husky golden retriever up a massive hill. There are plunges and holes so we must be careful. The dog is in frolic-y heaven. Once at the top, we turn and look back and in the middle of the faded-grassy field there is a pool of silver-blue water. One-by-one by cohorts dive in. I'm a little less bold. It takes me whole minutes to decide to do it. Once I pierce the skin of the water I feel weightless as imagined. My husband soon appears and we begin having sex underwater. After a few clumsy attempts, my husband stands up, annoyed, and exclaims, "Well, that settles it --- we're definitely married now!"

the 13th of October

I don't know that I have any one long thread of dream, but here are some various bits:

Walking to a party with my eldest sister, K, and a man who resembles a guy I went to high school with. I am not married but engaged to some man who is never around; his work has him away all the time and walking with this other man to the party makes me reconsider my desire to marry the moving man. We arrive at the party and I know no one. I have forgotten the cake.

Next, I am at a music festival. I don't recognize the music. There is an older woman who has slunk away from the show and I follow her backstage; she is lingering at the door to the lead acts dressing room. I notice she is crying. She smells his clothes and fingers various items in the room. She then settles in the hall outside and begins singing a sad country song. I am hidden behind mounds of fabric and her voice melts me. I try to remain concealed, worry I'll frighten, or anger, her, but we make eye contact and I tell her how beautiful her song and singing are.

I am with my husband and another unknown male. I am readying for a shower, prancing around in a long t-shirt and panties. My husband and the other guy are playing records for one another, showing off their collections and taste. In the hallway, I am having sex with a female stranger. The hallway is so slender it barely has room for our hips.

I am in the house where I nanny-ed 3 children a decade ago. I am calling the family on a Sunday, even though I know they will be busy with church and brunch and family, to find out the birthday of the eldest son, N. I cannot remember if it is 10/12 or 10/13... his father tells me the date and invites me to a birthday dinner at N's house in Philadelphia. I am surprised that N is living on his own in the city.

Update: Dreams do come TRUE

Just as I finished writing today's entry my cousin M called and told me she and her man, D, are eloping in May.... they will hold a picnic celebration later in the month in her Mom's BACKYARD (her mom is my Aunt T - see post below) and that her mom is in charge of the flowers/decor....
HAPPY WEIRD, huh?
Congratulations M & D!

A Tulip-y Turn of Events

I figured this morning I'd have some dark dreams to share: while my husband fell into his heavy sleep, I read from the Unsolved Mysteries Encyclopedia his friend had given me over dinner. And, then there's the missing younger brother, R. Long story short:R's ex had his baby Thursday night, and then decided my brother shouldn't see her. R, and his selfish smarts, then decided to go missing (typical addict behavior) from Saturday morning onward (I still have no official word from my Mother that he's arrived, but I just got off the phone with his drug buddy who I tracked down)... this disease baffles me; how can my brother stand in my kitchen Tuesday night sounding sensible and loving and even excited about his daughter's pending arrival and then only days later last be seen or heard from on a bad corner in N. Philadelphia. (the detective work my husband and I did this weekend was ridiculous)... and now he is probably back with my Mom, the Mother who sat on her couch telling me she knows he's dead, but won't call the police, or anyone else and well, that's it. I'm done. I went to sleep last night with the grossest and most shattering images in my head, and then I had this dream:

In a little town with cobble-stone streets and cottage-like houses close to the road (Banbury, England??), me and a few others walk from one establishment to the next. In the back yard of one restaurant-cottage there is a celebration on, and some of my family is there. My Aunt T has decorated the yard with tulips: every inch of the yard has vases filled with all colors of bright tulips. Walking is a little difficult because each time I turn I knock over a vase and quickly turn it back rightly.

la lunatic

For the most part my dreams and their scenarios make sense as far as how I see those people, or things I fear about those people (Ms. Insecurity)... but my dream last night about my friend, JKM, comes out of nowhere; nothing about her in real life, or in our dynamic, points to this dream. It wasn't horrible, just peculiar:

I am meeting up with my friend, she is at her house and wants me to come there. When I arrive everything is different from her real house - it's more like a cheap, bland motel, and her husband is there --- whereas in real life he doesn't make too many appearances. Also, there seems the constant threat of an intruder... We are going over writing, and she is clutching a folded piece of paper. Apparently that paper has work of mine on it - I have no idea. Little by little our meeting becomes edgy and JKM seems fitful and restless. Suddenly she is yelling at me, not all of it makes sense but it has something to do with my writing. I somehow have the slip of paper she was clutching in my hand now and she is pissed, she's telling me I must give it to her and she is trying to tear it from my hand...
and then we appear in a garden patio setting. Her husband and another man, both dressed in white, are sitting at a four-top patio table. We join them and without any clear transition the "doctor" begins addressing us about JKM's illness and lists off the various psycho-tropic medications she is taking --- apparently she is a schizophrenic.

In the next sequence I am wandering around outside my old high school. The sun is setting and one of my younger students is lurking by me. I am smoking a joint, walking and walking --- waiting for someone or something. When I start to feel a little high I toss the joint under a green min-van, parked beside the school. I walk away from the evidence, but later sweat with worry that the evidence will be uncovered when whoever it was that parked there moves their van...

in the garage

In the garage, at the home I lived in while attending high school. It's me, my husband, an old mutual friend of ours and her boyfriend. The three of them are walking around a car that is suspended midair. I make my way to my husband and Flowerdrop (we'll call our old friend) is hanging (literally) all over my husband. I make a face at him to indicate my annoyance; he is oblivious to my impatience and annoyance with this scenario.
The next scene: me and some family members are in a huge house/apt in my childhood neighborhood in Phila area. It is at the corner of Avenues G and Quarry (I think, if not, you won't know the difference). --- I mention this location because I have dreamed this house/apt before a while back though I don't recall the details now. It's kind of strange because there is a house standing where I keep dreaming in this pale stuccoed building. --- The apt, again is on the top floor - it runs the length of the whole top floor and there are windows along each wall, you can look out on Avenue G, or Quarry. (I think the windows were important in the last dream at this location because we were hiding from someone and kept a look-out)
This time in the dream I am with my little brother, his father (who died in 1999) and our cousin K. It actually seems that K and my brother and a few other relatives are living in this house, and I am visiting. They are showing me around and the place is quite palatial. There are two bathrooms in the master bedroom, various backstairs and many more comfortably furnished big rooms. There is a problem with light bulbs though. Many of the fixtures or lamps are without luminance, and me being the neurotic fixer, I go about the hunt for light bulbs. There are none, and this lack of light/lighting bothers me throughout the dream.
Later we are sitting at a long table. Two of our aunts are there: T and K. Everyone is in a light-hearted mood, joking and laughing. Then come some stories about mischief, or misgivings ... one such story involves me and Aunt T pretending to get married. All at the table laugh at this ridiculous idea, but I'm a little confused as to why we would make up such a story in the first place. No one cares to examine the weird story any further.

Islands of Seals

I woke and readied myself to share the dream sequences I can recall, but first stop was to call cousin M (who I attribute today's blog title to) to learn the ways of my new french press (I don't read directions). And now some bits, long and short:
I'm in a crowd; I recognize no one initially, we are apart of some class who is given different tasks to perform. Our first task is to decipher problems in the cellar of an old house. A small group of us gathers at the doorway to the cellar; we open the door cautiously, the smell of mildew reaches us as expected, and as our eyes search down the dark stairs we then notice a large and angry seal. He is plopped at the bottom of the stairs and he is angrily staring and grunting up at us. We all grow a bit hysterical and the seal then begins to plow toward us. We slam the door just as he reaches the top and his head almost peeks through the edge of the door. He slams his body against the other side of the door, and the door convulses beneath our bodies held against it. He then manages to get the door slightly open and gets his head through. We scramble for the lock and find some wire that we use to further secure the door. He continues to grunt angrily. Although his head continues to be lodged, he is unable to break his way through the door. We head toward a ship where our instructors await us. I am still with my smaller group, which consists of a couple of younger girls and one guy. It becomes apparent that the guy and I are smarter and far more capable to undertake the tasks assigned, and so we forge a partnership. We sit side by side in the well-lighted "classroom" as we are given our next assignments.
In the next bit of dream I am with my husband and we are traveling in a foreign city at night. We walk inside a long tunnel, and there are men on our right side selling clothing in the tight tunnel. Despite walking with my husband they call out to me. We rush through and make our way into the rain-slicked city. For some reason we duck inside a battered van, in the back we have raucous sex, and my moaning sounds like singing so much that my husband jokes about my arias... on our way back through the tunnel, when we pass the men my husband walks very closely behind me, nearly sticking to me in an attempt to cover my backside, he places his hands on my bottom because we have forgotten my pants.
Next I am in a large parking lot in the area of Warminster. I am waiting for a bus with many others. One of the other passengers in one of my students and she is mocking French-speaking passengers. I want to approach her and tell to stop being rude, but her mother is there and intimidates me, and obviously is oblivious to her daughter's rude behavior. Buses that look like trolleys pull up: they are dark wood and old men are driving them. I need to get a bus that will take me on to my transfer. I ask the drivers which bus will do so and they tell me that the one will take me to Harvard, while the other will go on ... I'm not sure what any of this means and so I climb aboard the bus that I hope will take me where I need to go. Rather than find a seat, I remain standing near the door. One of the passengers then tells me I am on the wrong bus.

Snooze

I have a human snooze button: my husband. Unless he is leaving for work at quarter to seven, he rises, starts his day (breakfast, exercise and reading) and then wakes me. Only all this week I refuse waking, so I am constantly sending him away with the request to return in ten--fifteen--thirty minutes. He's dear to oblige me.
That said, my dreams these last few nights are like patchwork, and foggy.
What I do remember from last night are these bits:

A reunion with two girlfriends - one I still speak with in waking life, the other I do not/have not since summer time. We are together in a foreign country, for some reason I believe it is Germany - I must hear German around us. The room where we are staying is dark and though there are big windows all around, there is no sun to shine in. There is tension in the room, though we're all doing our best to deny it (I think the second part of that sentence is a Dylan lyric..."Visions of Johanna") ...I remember very little else.
Not too enticing/exciting, huh?

I will rise like an obedient soldier tomorrow morning and begin anew, wholeheartedly transcribing all of the bits I recall.

At the cemetery

one bit: my oldest sister and my husband and I go to the cemetery where my other sister, M, is buried. We search a long time in the vast stone sea for her grave site. We find my maternal grandfather's stone finally (she is buried with him) but it seems more like a cheap plastic tackle box. It still has "I'll Be Seeing You" scrawled across the face, but only has three small initials on the side, marked for my sister. At the top of the grave marking there is a candle burning: a glass jar with some sort of thick gel inside mixed with what looks like water; the candle apparently never goes out. The insides of it seem to move, undulate. When I look at it for a while I notice the shape of my sister's face. It's as if her face is being pressed into the thick gel, leaving a fossil of sorts.

Strange, ain't it?

I woke just before 5am because my husband was squirming, so I reached over and gently placed my hand on him to help calm what seemed like a bad dream. He woke up a moment later and told me of his dream, which eerily sounds a lot like one of my recurring dreams: he is driving in a car on a local, busy road when he spots a dark, large Shepard. Suddenly the car is gone and he is faced with the brute dog who begins to charge at him.
Then he woke up, and I was already awake having noticed he was upset in his dream. Weird that it so closely mirrors some of my dreams. I do tend to share my dreams with him, but haven't very recently.

My dreams were weird too. A bit creepy as well. I usually try to write my dreams here chronologically, but today I am just going to try to get them on the screen:

My dead sister is not dead. She and I are holed-up in some messy place. She is quite calm and I am a bit irritated. We are waiting for someone - someone who doesn't actually show up. She is rummaging through her funeral materials; reading through the mass booklet we put together, she tells me she doesn't like it, that it wreaks of guilt. I swallow hard not knowing how to counter that. She asks me if I ever read her eulogy and how she reads it to all of her friends and that they are much impressed with its ability to capture her. I tell her of course I read it, I wrote it. While maybe before her happiness with the eulogy would make me feel better, I don't feel better. I feel trapped in this messy place and expectant for this expected person. She continues rummaging casually, while comfortably nestled on an over-stuffed couch. I pace.
Next I am in the house where we lived while I was in high school. I am in my old bedroom, alone. Someone, a family member, comes in and hands me a mini photo album. I flip through and many of the pictures are of my sister who passed. But then there are photos of me - naked! Not just naked, but SUGGESTIVE naked. My face goes hot and scarlet. I wonder why the hell family has this album. There are pictures of me and an old boyfriend too. Really weird shit, and I can't help wondering "did someone take these pictures, or did we use a tripod?" I take the album and find a place to be alone so I can get a better look at these photos - they seem to have a glaze to them, as though it were foggy in the room where we were during the "shoot". I then somehow fall into bed with a man, and there is a photographer among us.
At some point I am with my mom and younger brother, we are traveling together, but I have no idea where to and don't think to ask. We stop off at a burger joint that one of my older brothers is working at. We wait in line hungrily and then he passes a plate to us with a burger, no bun, and random weird stuff on it. I'm annoyed because I'd like my own burger but say nothing. We walk through a large deserted parking lot, I am still carrying this large beef plate while looking for a place for us to rest and eat. We find a cement park across the street. There are other people there. Everyone just milling about, like an aimless flock of pigeons.

Art, schmart

Surrounded by young women: some are old college classmates, others are friends from high school. We are taking shelter from a rainstorm in a foreign city at the home of a local artist, after traipsing down crooked sidewalks in this city that seems German (Berlin, maybe?). Her walls are scattered with framed work. And while putzing around we ladies begin a conversation on art. (Very lofty.) I notice that some of the frames are merely framing colored/painted paper. I raise the question about whether or not a nearly empty page is art...? One of the young ladies (a friend in real life, a "graduated artist") begins to argue that yes, that blue paper in the frame on the opposite wall is art. Why? I want to know. Meanwhile, the stairs in this woman's home become crowded with feet: people coming and going - a cocktail party is being held on the floor above us. As the others rise to their feet and go get a drink, I remain seated, staring out across the room at the blue framed page. As I stare I begin to see large-petaled flowers on the page. There are other shapes too, but it is the various blue flowers that strike me.
I make my way to the foot of the steps when our "guide" gathers us and tells us it is time to head into the city. We pile into his vehicle and the rain continues. Our guide looks quite competent - a nice suit, no visible drool on his chin - but he seems unable to master the art of driving. The light rain really sends him and the steering wheel into a tizzy. We are stopped on a freeway, attempting to merge, but all the traffic has stopped. We are closer to the city, but it is mentioned that we have been driving for five hours.

Moving? Can barely move

I have woken up stiff for a couple of years now, I deal with it (whine, eat aspirin) but I am recently more annoyed with it because we bought one of those air beds - sleep number, or something - and it's supposed to be excellent for sore muscles and bones, and it costs more than I think a bed should cost, and it helps NOT at ALL. So this morning my dream bits seem displaced - maybe they've slunk down beneath my unhappy muscles:

I am with my mother and younger brother. We are wandering through my eldest sister's neighborhood, though they don't seem aware of where we are. There is a road that my mother is convinced that we need to be on, but no matter how many turns we take the road is nowhere in sight. We are all a little worried, annoyed. We make our way into a development of big, new houses and find ourselves inside the model home. It smells like old people and the decor is gaudy; my mother is working her way toward a grand piano. She doesn't play, but sits on the bench and stares at the keys.

Wish I could remember more just now... perhaps later something will slip into my consciousness.

Eww.

I have written here, at times, censoring my self: I've kept my weird erotic dreams to myself. No more.
****

I am dressed in black and my hair is white blond. I am in a large apartment, it kind of reminds me of a sitcom apartment: light fixtures stuck to walls, boring neutral colors, and lots of space (so the camera can zoom around). Waiting for my date I play around in front of the mirror. I look like and feel like Paris Hilton, or any other boring, sleazy blond. The bell rings and I answer it. The guy/boy on the other side is sickly skinny. He has no shirt on, a long greasy black ponytail and his shorts (yeah, SHORTS) are black pleather. His tall boots reach their hem. We are supposed to go out, but apparently we are so taken with one another that we decide to stay in... he speaks with what seems to be a German accent. I take him by the hand and lead him through the spacious apartment to a couch settled in a cluttered corner, and we go at it.
Writing that makes me want to shower, and I didn't even go explicit.

In the next scene I am house-hunting with my husband and we are looking into buying the house of a pseudo-friend from high school. It's huge and surrounded by large, rusting wrought iron gates. Ivy grows all over. The owners of the house have left so that we can look around. They have left the house a mess. Clothing on stairs, dirty dishes on end tables. Nothing is kept up. As we begin to climb a skinny set of curved stairs, a black slender dog comes growling our way. I am suddenly alone and the dog is coming for me. I an effort to fend off a full attack I offer him my left arm. His teeth sink into my skin and I am trying to fight back a shriek. I begin to switch arms, I tear one arm from his mouth only to offer him the other, and there is no help in sight. I fear that I may be stuck with this tireless dog for a very, very long time.

Thinking over this last scene, this is some weird recurring dream bit for me: animal attack and me literally offering myself up and handing off one body part in an attempt to satiate animal. Hmmm. Wonder what that indicates?

Weeding

In the time that I have neglected this blog, I have seen spectacular highs (we got married) and harsh lows (family, friends - weeding through the diseased, emotionally).
Late January, my Guy and I said "I do" and we've been loving the days a little more genuinely since. We also do worry a little more too. Having both lost close loved ones at young ages we are both, understandably, becoming more aware of our life spans. I finally convinced him to get to a doctor (after about 15 years) and have a physical. High cholesterol. And so we are mapping out our new lifestyle and diet. It seems morbid, I guess, that a newlywed thinks of death, but really the closer we get the more it haunts me and I tease him that if one of us dies the other should commit suicide soon after. The idea of my life without him is unbearable. It's been a great (nearly) two years with him, and it seems to get better and better as we grow closer and become best friends forever.
And while we've been weeding through our habits that don't promise us silver hair and bingo, I've been weeding through people. It's deflating. It makes me weak with hurt, but it's self-preservation, I am believing. I have family members and friends who don't seem to know how to perform the opposite end of a relationship, and rather than list that kind of stuff - that's it: if you can't be good to the people around you, I don't want to be around you.

And then this is a "dream blog" --- no big surprise I dreamed of death quite a bit. Well, with my sister I actually have been dreaming her alive. Her death, a year and a half ago, is still one of my darkest spots in this life. It hurts most because I have completely lost my faith in the last few years and thinking that I won't ever again see her face in the flesh, or hear her voice, or mischievous laugh knocks my insides out; I feel empty and very sad. In the dreams I have she is alive again and I spend my time worrying about waking, because I know I am dreaming and that the morning only will rob me of this temporary time with her.
Two nights ago I had a dream that my father died. I was inconsolable, eyes swollen big with grief and my voice shattered. The dream began that our family was holding a picnic/festival of sorts behind a big brick building at the top of a hill. I was busy getting lost on a fire escape, and surveying the scene while the others were laughing and picnic-ing. I caught sight of my Dad and automatically longed to walk with him. He was with his wife and they were wandering around, unaware of my watchful eye. And then poof: he was dead. And my siblings and I were going through a photo album I had put together where many of the photos had our father, and various family and friends, dressing up in clothing/costumes from previous decades. We stared longingly. I was to write and read his eulogy and when I rose and approached the podium I could barely breathe and heavy tears were riding the rims of my eyes, and in real life I woke a little and pressed my hand to the wet at my eyes and on the pillow. I awoke fully at that point and lay in bed sobbing softly.
Then I sprung from bed, dialed my Dad's number and left him a voicemail. He called back, alive. I didn't tell him of my dream.

Not a Doozy

No dream bits yet from England because I haven't slept yet. In this bleary-eyed state I am miserable, hoping the heavy, heavy sleep to come tonight grants me new perspective.

Until then ---
dream for for me,
dream bright.