Into a novella with one look.
Her thought-kingdom has a parole, a haunted house,
a broken down car, and millions of steps.
Statues fly by you when you fly by them—
immortality/momentarily you defy gravity.
Wake up and drink some.
The cat sleeps naturally in your grace.
They call it a tortoise. It looks like a tortoise.
You want to give it a magical name but you keep calling it Kitty.
You want to find someone in this missing apartment,
the hidden indoor room where all manner of guests and agenda await.
When confronted by wolves in a dream, there is one simple and fast rule of escape: climb. Climb a tree, probably. That’s what I did. Wolves can’t climb. Then you just wait up in your tree looking down at said wolves until you wake up from your dream.
My neighbor’s yard sank underwater in the dream I had last night. I was over there on a motorcycle to pick up some clothes for/from my nephew. It was my house but my OLD house. So many things were destroyed. All the nearby yards were swamps and the nearby driveways broken and smashed. My old house was in serious disrepair. To top it off I had nowhere to put the clothes when I left except in my outstretched arms (outstretched like this–and try riding a motorcycle with you arms outstretched holding a massive pile of hand-me-downs–you just can’t do it). To top it off, or luckily, the motorcycle wouldn’t start when I tried to leave. So I got to hike back home through the woods instead. That would be to my NEW home, my home home, or actual home. Nevermind the fact that it is 40 mile walk between homes, with virtually no woods to speak of. This is dream logic, you just can’t argue with it.
Hiding out under a blanket next to a chain link fence behind some toolsheds
Watching abt 20 of your neighbors having a block party
Coming home drunk from bars
Waiting for their kids to come home from summer camp
Maybe you knew I was watching
You must have noticed because you came to talk to me
I was surprised by that
It was odd because now you were married and I could FEEL your husband in the air/area,
the way you moved, furtively
I don’t know what happened next
You were gone, there were people making out (fucking) behind the toolsheds
A neighbor came to talk to you
(Were you having an affair?)
A large breasted woman came out topless and them proceeded to bend over to pick up her laundry with her bathrobe open
(Yes I know, the bathrobe was suddenly there–ask me what color it was)
Then the adults went back in
That’s when i noticed them, a whole row of kids sleeping under the blanket
Some of them were crying, so they must have seen
I carried the smallest one back with me to the row of tall houses
I sat her down inside
I don’t know whose daughter that was
In another part of the dream I was looking for god
Now something even worse
There was a murder
A whole series of them
I was with my sons in an empty apartment
We must have all woken up there, inside, because everyone seemed groggy
I was trying to hurry them up
Put on your socks and shoes
There was someone in the shower
Was it a good man or a bad man
The killers were the owners of the apartment
They killed the tenants for being late on rent
Maybe it was a survivor in the shower
(No it was the murderer)
I could see so much blood
I looked for a knife, for protection
I kept trying to hurry up my kids
Then a kind man was showing Micah how to sharpen a watch bezel for use as a weapon/knife
We were in a different place, a hotel room
Slow strokes on the whetstone, AWAY from the body
You see, I still have these phobias
I’ve had an epiphany but I don’t think you appreciate that/what it means. It happened in your ear. You were leaning over and looking out the window. I whispered to you, there is nothing more beautiful than you in this moment. You were under the traffic light, looking out at the glass windows of the cathedral. I said I don’t remember you, where were you born? Do you love me? We were fucking in the taxi. I said I will go back in time and find you. You were wearing a red dress. It had to be red. I don’t remember the next part. One day I was running in the forest and I heard something. It was a grackle. I don’t even know what that sounds like. I was reading Thoreau’s Walden. I had school the next day and you made me miss my assignments. I am always having that dream. I don’t remember your thigh even though it was right next to mine. On top of it. I was supposed to be working. There was a helicopter, and a beach. There is more to this one than I can remember.
I had a dream last night that was full of running in and around old buildings and chasing after something and books and ladders and rooftops that were accessed through weird trap doors and sunshine and glass, lots of glass. I think it was supposed to be a representation of my head.
Last night I dreamt that I had run out of job prospects, so I had to go work at a restaurant. It was a kindof subway/sandwich shop. They also served really good coffee. I remember I had to sweep the floors because it was still morning and there weren’t any customers yet. I also walked around outside and checked out some of the other subway/sandwich shops in the area, of which there happened to be many. I remember being greatly troubled because I didn’t have a uniform, so I made one for myself by putting on a brilliant white T-shirt.
I dreamt about —– last night. Hard to tell what this means. In the dream our families were living in this apt bldg/hotel next door to each other, or with each other. Which is which is hard to tell. There was little separation between the families. Flimsy partitions and openings. Door with holes in them. I think we were both having trouble with our schoolwork, first her then me. Except that we were still ourselves, too, and still married. We kissed a lot. A few times, at first, and then more. It felt like it should have been more. Except for this tremendous sense of wrongness about it, too. I don’t know where that comes from.
In its fever you see the most perfectly impossible furniture: owls without heads turned into lamps; legless chairs; trees and alleys that go on to join roads and figures together. Bridges and outlets for Streetlamps, bumper-stickers, and all that shining bright sand. Beware of the snow. The snow sticks and sticks to you and there is no way to get it off. Not even if you dissolve your own skin.
When you leave you see a golden (wasp). And the wasp has its legs tucked under its wet beautiful wings and has just come out from a bush. So you know that it is a beautiful woman. And She’ll do anything. She has black eyes (and they are so wide and lustrous you think you should have to apologize for dreaming them). Sometimes it is a man. If it is a man it flies straight at you.
When you wake up there is no reason to wake up and nothing to wake up to, except the woman. You are the wasp and alone in the whole wide universe.
Last night I dreamt that I was chasing a tiger. Or actually, the tiger was chasing me. Or it was about to, but I had a gun and I was going to kill it.
Ehh. Can you kill a tiger with a 20 gauge shotgun shooting birdshot? Probably not. This disturbed me greatly in my dream. Perhaps if I shot him in the gut, or perhaps say directly in the eyeball? But then I would have to wait for that fucking tiger to get pretty close to me. I was envious of the boy with the deer rifle. And the man with the sawed-off bazooka that looked liked it could put a serious dent in some tiger.
Then I dreamt that I was going to be in a movie directed by Sydney Pollack, and I had all sorts of advice for him to listen to. Criticism really. His movies used to be so much better! I enjoyed the shag carpet in his guest-room though.
Mmm, that is the sort of dreams that I have been having lately.