dream!
the flip side of reality
sunday, june 3, 2007
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saturday, june 2, 2007
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friday, june 1, 2007
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thursday, may 31, 2007
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wednesday, may 30, 2007
this is a feeling left over from cycling
several of us screaming down a hillside... down, down, down toward the sea. could be on bikes, could be rolling, could be on foot. at least jonathan and i end up on a tiny tropical island.. from comparison with a 1940s photo i can see that it's actually an island that jonathan owns a significant chunk of; he's never seen it before. time to sit in a lawn chair and enjoy the view.
tuesday, may 29, 2007
exposure of the recluse
I find a shaggy white cat, quite obviously a stray, who is very sweet and has a collar with two phone numbers on it. It takes me forever to be able to read the numbers (in that way that fine print is very inaccessible in dreams) and then when I have them it takes even longer to get around to calling either number. The first number is an answering machine in Chicago... I don't think I even had a chance for the second in this dream.
I'm involved with a group of people who build large-scale burning man-style kinetic art.. giant vehicles and towering contraptions from scrap metal and old bicycles, etc. While they are all away, I return to find that all the sculptures (in the filed they worked on them) are missing or destroyed. I am angry, but I make a show of being furious, throwing things, kicking walls, and giving a long monologue that ends in weeping. I don't feel this extreme but something about the situation seems to require that somebody play this role, perhaps to coax the stolen art back.
But it has the opposite effect... people look on with amusement. I hear a chuckle from behind a short wall. It's Wendy's brother (who has no name in this dream, so I won't call him Matt. Besides, he really isn't Matt), who, like an extreme version of our ex-neighbor Jeremy, hides out all the time and rarely interacts with people. He has dug himself a rectangular cave of sorts in the wall of this building, and spends almost all his hours lying down in it (there is not enough room to even sit up. I seem to remember helping him build this little hidey home.
The chuckle stirs my attention and draws his hideout into my act. I grab a milk crate and with every strong word I smash a corner of it into the plastic wall of the cave, eventually breaking a hole from which I can peel back the walls and expose its inhabitant. He is a young black teenager with a blue and black jacket and well-tended braids. The space is so small; I wonder if he ever comes out to use a toilet, or if he's found a place way in the back of the cave.
For being reclusive, he's very sociable and open, and he talks about maybe joining Natta's dance class.
I end up at a party full of AJ's friends. It's held in a garage that has a big island/workbench in the middle of it, with storage for tools and raw materials underneath, all open. It's a very special occasion, and Someone has covered the raw surface of the workbench with a green soft sweater fabric. In my hands I have a green pair of pants of the same fabric; I experiment with where to place them to attempt to cover up the tools. AJ wants to take my picture with the pants, and then she introduces me to her new(ish) partner.
monday, may 28, 2007
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