Time: 10:49 p.m.
for the last few nights, I've had super mega fucked dreams. both mornings, I blasted out of bed and ran downstairs to type them up. in both instances I barfed the dream content right out into the text editor and went back to sleep right away. here's the transcript of first of them, presented here completely unedited (save for a few minor insertions and clarifications in [square brackets]):
I dreampt I was going to japan. the plane was a luxury caddilac type plane. we stopped in some sort of poor village to refuel. the plane kept moving around. we were in a chaotic hangar area full of people and decrepid first-world shops that were falling apart in a distinctly third-world way. iw as travvelling with makiko. [makiko = girl I met on new years, cutie, exuberant, didn't call me back tho and I haven't talked to her since then] she had got off the plane and almost missed it. for some reason when she came back she and I were in the back in a sort of sleeper compartment thing with sydney and a companion of hers. [sydney = my first college girlfriend, messy breakup, much drama] both makiko and sydney crawled under this ledge thing to this service area in the very back of the plane where they turned into robots. this wasn't something unusual, it was just something they both happened to have the ability to do. a steward came by and told them they couldn't be there, which is something we all knew all along. I was conspicuously not talking to sydney or her companion, whom I can't really remember. they emerged and while the steward watched they changed back into humans from robots. I recall this as being a long, slow, drawn-out process. they were small robots, like the mars explorer thing, and rusty and dirty. both of them got a bit 'stuck' at various points in the process and complained of physical discomfort. I don't remember what happened then but I know makiko was able to transform back first, as if it were a race.
later I found myself flying over japan, only very low. I was originally enjoying it immensely cuz we were passing over roads that were fucked up and we were moving faster than all the traffic, which was quite congested. the roads were badly damaged and cars kept having to veer off of the road and across grass. it was like a race. some cars flipped. we kept moving faster in the plane. but at some point I discovered that my conciousness was no longer protected by the plane and I was somehow balanced precariously on the wing or some such thing. I knew if I changed my balance or orientation to the wind forces even slightly in the wrong direction I'd be hurled off the plane. I started to gingerly ease back in but I woke up a tiny bit into this so I don't know how it resolved.
later, I had a very black and white dream in which I was at some intersection crossing the road multiple times. [in thinking about this while awake, I realize that it was an intersection on broadway in bklyn down the road from my first bklyn apt] I kept meeting very old people who had known my mom, like cindi daley, my music teacher from 3rd grade. she gave me a business card she'd drawn with marker and wrote my email address down wrong on a piece of wood that had been washed grey by the ocean. this was because she lived in a scaled-down beach house. there were two types of beach houses at the complex, she explained: private and public. the public ones you had to be 'elected' to live in. your status as private or public determined the complexity of your email address. what was interesting was that she didn't remember me but I could remember her (although why this was particularly interesting is something I can't figure out on sober reflection). this dream degenerated into dreams of african rythims and african art, and musings on my mom's relationship w/ ms. clark, my first grade teacher and african enthusiast. then I woke up.
... yes. there you have it. really slaps those internally global insecurities, shortcomings, and issues right down on the table there, now doesn't it? yes.
anyway yeah I'm not posting the second one cuz it was really horrendous and involved me getting sexually assaulted in jail by john belushi in a bee costume and having kitchen knives run across my face. it was wack. that first one is bad enough anyway, right? right. anyway yeah so yeah. tell me what you think, okeeedokeee? thanks.