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drinking coffee at dinnertime today. feeling a lot like my high school days. chillin on my computer like a spazoid and feeling pretty good about it, overall.

the best dreams are about REVOLUTION

Must've been a few nights ago. me and Alaya were being led around some kind of museum/restaurant. multi-tiered. I remember walking around, like Mystique, and I was able to morph into different disguises.

The climax of the dream involved us all lining up, going back to a childlike preschool setting. chairs set up in rows, waiting to go into the classroom. they were leading us towards death maybe, towards reindoctrination, but here we were in the heart of it as rebels, about to start a revolution in the very heart of the beast.

the most triumphant feelings come from these kinds of dreams.



more recent: i was on a beach. there was a big riptide pulling me out into the water. (remembrances of another dream where i was diving in the shallows avoiding sharks.) fading. maybe it will come back to me.

remembering that the waves were a sign of my dreamworld. always, always, always.

interesting that, earlier in my life, i was totally submerged. the tidal waves were enormous, pulling me out into the water. or looming on the horizon, a HUGE event about to fuck everything up. a total change in circumstances. a life altering event. recently they've been more shallow. i've been in the surf on the beach, battling them. is it because i've gotten, ostensibly, more control over my life in recent years?? where am i now, anyways?

i read an article in good times about lucid dreaming. felt like i should get back into it. chills coming in as i remembered the feelings from my dreams.

FUCK, man. why not feel this way in real life??!

had a crazy lucid nightmare the night before diving in Carmel. worst night's sleep ever. must've not been three solid hours. i woke up and the pillow was flung across the room.

interestingly it came after a super great meditation session where i felt lots of love emanating. the desire to go hard. to keep exposing myself to pain. i felt the terror pulling me in: "this is the realm of absolute terror. this is where people have seizures." i felt it as i was going into it.

terror, chaos surrounding. gangsters. the worst was my mom in rehab, looking fucked up out of her mind, with an IV drip of vodka, a huge jar going into her arm. super rad brian came down and tried to bring me back to reality. "here dude. i'm here for you. here's some weed and honey jack." the calm memories. friendship of easing the pain.

but i had to get away from him, keep subjecting myself. Noooooo! as I stretched away. eventually i found myself in a crazy house which i reasoned to be my grandparents. false awakenings. i tried to reclaim my identity thru reasoning. retraced the steps of my life; the past, 2010, 2012, different houses. where was i at now? but the only way to come back to peace was by breathing. breathing. in, out, in, out.

all i wanna do is listen to music and jam out. this is part of me.

fuck.

gotta sleep soon. but i don't want to. i'm holding fast to this.

more journalling coming tomorrow.

during the course of the night i found myself travelling. i was among a huge crowd of people, and we were walking along an abandoned freeway. everything was peaceful. i formulated some words, to use as a marker: once society is gone, there will be highways full of love. i started to run soon, as i took a turn down a decrepit offramp. there was a horse chasing me, and i had to jump over this gap. i could barely make it, but it would deter the thing that was chasing me. i remember it as a part of another story; this is where he breaks his legs.

so i make the jump, at the cost of hurting myself, and walk off and away. i remember looking at the trees in front of me, as the sun was setting. i realize: this is an amazing place. it dawns on me. why should i turn away from the sun, from beauty, from comfort? except there were no words in the realization. i'm not about to stick with this shitty storyline where i break my legs and then walk into the forest at dark...

i turn around. the sun gets brighter and brighter; the day goes backwards as more of the meadow i'm in is illuminated. it's breathtaking. i see, appreciate, visualize, create. now, for some place to sit down. i see a spot up on a hill and make towards it. i am enjoying nature around me, the beautiful scene that i've become aware of. if only i had something to eat...

without even wanting it that bad, i see a plate of sandwiches on top of the platform! i near the crest of the hill to see more of the plastic platform that was designed for me. wouldn't you know, there is a copy of super smash bros all set up, with Falco waiting on the screen for me, already picked. i turn around to scope out the little valley below me... it has been set up as an amphitheater. there is a projector which can broadcast smash to a theater-sized screen. wow.

but this isn't all that i want. these things are just secondary. the act of creating was more important. the comforts are no good in comparison. with great power comes great responsibility. i can't settle for this anymore.

i walk around some more, and the dream slips back into non-lucid. i talk to someone about playing a "perfected game," playing around the edges. a perfectionistic game. steven is there. he still plays, although it's a different game--he sprays gunfire into the lockers along the wall, opening various doors. pinging sounds, and different point denominations pop up. that's cool, i guess.

the second dream, steven is driving us along the highway. he's in a big van. we nearly get in an accident; there's some way crazy shit going on. different drivers stop and swerve. we go past a cop, another one... strange he didn't pull us over, but maybe it was because the evasive/risky driving helped us avoid an accident. or maybe it was because there were other things on his mind...

we soon come to a DEAD STOP. people start shouting "GET TO THE GROUND!" There is running. I feel true panic, and helicopters show up, and armed men rappel down the side from ropes. THE TERRORISTS ARE HERE. Except it ends up being a government agency, run rogue. This is authority doing this. Everybody flees. I go to the side of the highway, since I didn't get much chance to run. I tumble down, down, and do my best to hide by curling up into a ball. i wait anxiously, noting the quality of my breath and the way the panic makes me focus.

I've been found. A huge man comes up to me and points a massive gun to my head. "Join us," he says. I look up, and in a fraction of a second, before I can respond, he shoots me.

I'm dead. But I walk and float around as a spirit. The men are burly as hell, straight out of the movies, and their guns are nearly as big as they are. I see them rounding people up. "Join us." At a moment's hesitation, they shoot them in the head. This isn't fair.

I have an awakening. Fuck this. I'm going to do justice to them. I come at one of the soldiers, and we fight for awhile before I realize that I can phase through him, as a ghost. I go to the man who killed me and seize possession of his body. He jerks around in pain and panic. I make him jump off a balcony into the courtyard, and it brings me great pleasure to feel his neck breaking. He is dealt with.

The setting is now a mansion. I float around all ghastly, and I try to hover and levitate. I get mixed success, but can't really escape the pull of gravity. As I float upstairs, I see a creepy-looking house fixture, which may be imbued with the spirit of someone else who lived or died here. There is a face I perceive, and it starts to talk to me, rapidly, in whispers, faster than I can comprehend. I'm scared, but not deterred. As I near the thing the voices intensify, but the dream fades. I fade back into sleep paralysis, and feel my hands, which have fallen asleep over my stomach. Back into reality, at least for a bit. (I got a pretty intense wave of fear writing that, just now.)

A third dream, mostly non-lucid. I am at my grandparents' house. The main arc was the ocean. I go out back and it is beautiful, syrupy and black and calm. I go back in the house and see some waves. They are big, and I wonder if they'll come up to the house. But they don't. I go back in and back out again, and there are surfers on the waves. The prominence of the ocean fades in and out as I perceive it. I am losing this place.

Here is my dad, who is more attached to this view than I am. "This is the last time, isn't it?" One of us says this, the other nods and cries. Maybe it's both of us.

The surfers populate the waves, and they come towards me exultantly. But they won't reach! I go into the neighbor's house, trespassing inadvertently, to try and get a better view. But it doesn't work. Eventually I am wearied, from trying to create the signs, and I have a false awakening. My sister is there; I'm trying to watch a blank TV and create visualizations, crazy black and red lines. It feels like a futile pursuit. "The same kind of people who do this are the ones who stock close." ....But I do other things than stock close, too. She grabs the remote and makes the tv ROTATE back and forth, like a tower fan, which bugs me to no end. I hit her, hard, grabbing the remote, and then kick her once, out of hatred. Immediately I feel guilty. Soon I wake up IRL, knowing almost exactly how much longer I've slept in for.

No pain no gain.

the night before last i had a dream about a man who had been attacked by a bear. his hands were mauled, so he underwent a surgery where all his fingers were chopped off, but the bones in his palms were separated so he had four proto-fingers which he could wield with some success. the tendons in his forearms were wooden, and he moved like he was a puppet.

someone is skiing with their girl, and i look behind me. there is a polar bear, cool as a cucumber with scarf and sunglasses, skiing right behind. IS THAT A FUCKING BEAR?!?


last night i had a dream which was more of a revisiting than anything. in a setting which i felt very familiar with, even the plot of the dream. we were in this garage, a bunch of kids, some young girls, a big beefy dude who must've been 7 foot tall and crazy muscled, some punkish boys. we went outside the garage and the boys tried to ride their BMX through the open space in a fence. it didn't work. we went back to the garage and i jumped on the big guy's back while he squatted me. "OK, my turn." i turn around and he climbs on my back, i can't really do it successfully. maybe one or two reps before i fall backwards. i turn around and it was just a little girl on my back, who must've been at least 70 pounds lighter than me :O......

earlier in the week i had cool vivid dreams, and i remember making a point to write it down WHILE DREAMING, so i woke up and wrote it out longhand, as well as drawing pictures of the most vivid images. really solid practice.

more dreams last night about being stuck in a subpar environment. my old roommates from college were there, in this house, smoking pot. they had big bongs but were careless with the way they smoked, dirty. they pulled out huge chunks of weed from inside the pipe, then turned it upside down and shook the bong water around, mixing green with ash. do you wanna smoke? nah, i don't do that shit anymore. twilight in the house, bad lighting. maybe that's just the morning sun and how it's been coming through the window as i sleep. morgan is there, in his own room, inaccessible. i go into my own room, and i have two screens. i resign to the computer, here's my screen, here's another to the right of me. emily guitierrez sits next to me, doll. i look at her. "this is a lot of screens." she nods, silently.

i think later on the dream turns sexual, as i'm fingering a girl with a small pussy. it's like on display; she says "no, the clit is down more." and someone else is with me. i put a finger in her ass and make a point about the contractions of her vagina and how these two are related. weird and explicit.

after awhile i get up and walk around the house. i can hear morgan in there, talking to himself. there's a part that i can go into, another part that i can't. his dad james is there. they are working together, on some project that they keep in the garage (his room). i can hear him from outside, on the computer, talking about what he's doing and laughing to himself. i can't decide if this is crazy or noble, that he should be so expressive even on his own. his tone of voice seems a little desolate.

later on i get a chance to see what he's doing. i've been hired to work with them. There's a big apparatus with little metal grips that come together to hold up a log with holes in the middle. Like a centipede, two metal arms come together at regular intervals along the whole length. There are pads on the end, and they stick through the holes in the wood. They can rotate all around. Very sophisticated machinery. I get the sense that this thing is edible...

We watch a movie in a big group of people. As the crowds are leaving, we go around and pick up loaves of bread. These are related to the edible project. I grab some from outside, through a car window as we depart, and throw them over. Cool, nice job. The shared satisfaction of throwing something to someone and having them catch it.


That's about it for that one, but there's another pretty telling dream I remembered halfway through writing. I've gone to the end of the land with my dad. There are fish in the water, which is kind of dirty. I have actually built a submarine, constructing it out of plastic parts--old bins and buckets, coffee bins, etc. I'm piecing it together, excited that we're gonna go underwater together. But he's too big. I submerge, and I see him kind of just hanging out on the surface cheering me on. Pretending like he's doing this thing with me. After I grab some fish or relics or whatever I was looking for under the water, I come back up (it's not very deep) and confront him about it. You didn't even go down with me!!

This is a sticking point, I'm pissed. He mentions my mom and my sister, and the word "love," and says "...doing whatever the hell you guys do on your own." Those weren't the exact words, but it was an alienating statement. Fuck you!!! What do you mean, "whatever I do"?! He was insinuating that everything I do is senseless, meaningless, and unimportant. Maybe because he's not there, or maybe because he can't do it. The adventurous stuff, like the submarine. I go off on him. This is bullshit. Just because you are INCAPABLE of doing something, you can't see the IMPORTANCE of it. He was writing it off, everything I do. Everything I do.

Reflecting a bit, there's definitely dumb shit I do (same as everybody), purposeless shit. The feeling in the dream with which I sat down to the computer screens was pretty important. People are out there smoking weed and being buffoonish, but that's my escape. The computer. Even when there's questionable stuff going on around me, it's rarely the best option. That feeling of melancholy and apathy is one and the same. I mean, come on though. A submarine that I built by myself. That's pretty sick.

There's a lot of emotion regarding morgan, one of my primary dream figures, still, but I feel like it's still hidden, repressed, forgotten. Whatever it is. Just a hint of him is there. And maybe that's all that's left anyways, after he died. Even before that I didn't know him very well, not for years. It's like I'm sleuthing to figure out just what happened to him; maybe I know the answer, it's just deeper down.

fun dreams last night... it's like they were coming in and out of focus, fractals coming together when i put more attention in. it's like you gotta WANT them dream, and then a cognizant narrative will materialize (or you will materialize inside of it).

two of them stand out as important. i was at a beach resort, and i had met this girl. the conversation was going well, as i was sitting across from her at a table, and i realized it was time to ask her name. "Allison." (or another A name... i remember later on I forgot what it was with 100% certainty, but I re-labeled her Allison.) We were at a beach, her on the sand and me in the water. There was a pretty steep embankment, and the waves were big. I felt riptide currents pulling at me from underneath the water, grabbing at my ankles. But I carried on the conversation. The water is cold. Always cold.

It pulled me out at one point, but I remembered to swim to the side, and not against it. I got back to where she was waiting pretty easily, never out of eyesight, and I climbed back up onto the wet sand after a couple of tries. This has been a really common image for me, climbing up a sandy hill where I can't get any purchase. It used to be on climbing holds, which would crumble away because they were too sandy. Anyways, I made it back up. I was so happy to be WARM. "Let's just lie in the sun." She lies down close to me, touching. I'm so happy to just relax. The ocean is cool too, but it's dangerous. Relax. You are comfortable, you are the man that they want. Relax. It was almost like a dropping of pretensions; I didn't have to try to come off as brave. Our whole sides are touching. I try to grab her butt... she laughs and brushes me away. Oh well.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT WAS THAT AN ALLIGATOR?!? An enormous alligator rushes past us and flies into the ocean. We see him bobbing up and down in the surf. Jesus, he must be 12 feet long. A swimming tank. As we turn around another one comes out of the swamp behind us. He almost BITES me, but then goes into the water. Here's another one... He's smaller, and I GRAB his head before he can bite my hands. It's hard to hold his jaws shut (despite what they tell you in the nature shows); it still takes a lot of grip strength. I go back and show the people running the resort. What's the idea with THIS? "I almost got BITTEN by one of these things, it must've been 14 feet long!!" Soon, I am only holding his head. He has shrunk and shrunk. His tail fell off, like a lizard's when they get caught by a bird. Soon, it's just his neck and his head. The last part behind his neck detaches, and he's dead. We're going to eat him--it looks like fish, like the trout I cooked last night (IRL). I look at the bone structure and the flesh. Very interesting. Smells fishy, too. After I'm sure that the head won't move--it looks like one of those trophies you see put on the wall in creepy voodoo houses in New Orleans--I discard it.

Later I'm in a car, going up what seems to be East Cliff Drive in Santa Cruz. I point this out... These settings don't really mesh. Pretty cool that I knew it was changing, that's a good sign for lucidity. I want to go and meet back up with the girl, but we're getting farther and farther away. We come down the hill on the other side into a city. William is in the car. What the fuck man? I grab the wheel and crash the car in a fit of laughter. I don't give a fuck about this car ride! This ain't real! i get out and start to explore the city. One main priority is finding a place to shit. (Maybe I'll just take this as a sign and try to wake up and fart every time this happens from now on.) Walking around, different shops, different clothes. Some of them are cool, others not. There are some that are really sexy (and I could be getting this image mixed up from another dream I had later in the night), but I pull them off the rack and they're the same brand that I have already, or there's a color scheme that I don't like where only the sleeves are that nice color, and the rest is white. No dice.

I go back into a cafe kind of thing, it's a walk-through shop. The space is limited so they've made it like a museum. The bathrooms are at the end. There's no stall, only a toilet at the end. Oh well, I don't really care. I can do my business here I guess. I wake up.


The dream earlier in the night is going to be harder to reconstruct. (I hope I haven't jinxed myself with that statement.) In the future I'll probably go in the opposite order, since the more recent dreams tend to come back more easily. I remembered the title: "hot air balloons." That's a trick I use to remember a dream--I'll give it a title after dreaming it (sometime during the night), and the connotations are usually enough to help and bring it back. It was me and my sister. We started off in the clothes store, and we walked outside onto the roof. We were going on a great adventure. Our socks were full of prickles, and we had to take them all out. It came from stepping on the grass. Once on the roof I believe we took a ride in a hot air balloon; a distinct image of falling, falling, and opening up the chute (the balloon catching the air) once we were down low. It was barely enough time. Later the same thing happened, the same trip up, the same fall. Except this time the balloon didn't open up. We hit the floor. That's when we came to, dazed and sober on the roof. We took the prickles out of our socks. We had been hiding from somebody, we had a small object, like a ball of power that enabled us to live this lifestyle. Maybe it was just money we had borrowed from somebody. We were in an attic kind of place, and had been living there for a while. We had to give the money back. I found a one dollar bill and a five dollar bill. I gave the one dollar bill back, and kept the five jokingly. Then me and the person whose roof it was switched back, then he gave me the five and let me keep it. Swell. A cityscape underneath us. The narrative is gone; it's just a jumble of images.

Lots of waiting. Another dream: I am rooming with Emilio. Like it's the last year of college, again. But I've got somewhere else to go. I'm alternately sleepy or waking up. We want to play videogames, street fighter, but it's late. I'm moving on, man. I'm not trying to stay up late until 2am every night like I used to. Wandering around. It's either the twilight in the morning time or late at night, alternately. I've got somewhere else to go. My soul isn't here. But I check my phone, right as i'm leaving, and I'm disappointed, because he sent me a text: "Every time I need some reliable quiet energy, I can count on Joe "

HMMM.


I definitely feel like I'm at a turning point. I've been thinking a lot about the unconscious mind and understanding it, aligning it, since watching a hypnosis video the other day. Meditating on it, alternating between higher consciousness and the steamy subconscious underneath, letting it out with the out-breath and cooling it with the colder, crisp external world during the in-breath. There are things I'm gonna have to drop, obviously. Situations I will have to take myself out of because they aren't me anymore. That's the message of that in-between dorm dream, which is clear enough.

As for the alligators?? I have no idea what they mean. The ocean is clear enough--quit frontin'. To have one conversation on the surface level, with my head above the water, and then have different forces pulling at me from underneath--forces which I'm scared of and don't want to show to anybody else--that's a bad sign. Just get out of it. Get warm, get comfortable. Go for it and don't be sorry.

BUT THOSE ALLIGATORS THO

first dream:

forgot it right now, hopefully it will come back to me

second: really sexual dream. austin's girlfriend is in his bed with some old mexican dude. i am half asleep and half awake. they check on me--"hey joe, hey joe!" but i'm unconscious or making a good performance that i am. i hear them having sex in the dark; there is some hubbub about a condom and whether or not the older dude will even finish. he's a gangster kind of guy, so he's got his ego. it turns out that he can't, so he leaves in a hurry. austin comes back in. "what a joke," and they finish up. i consider asking if they would be down for a threesome. maybe that would be the best way to go after all.

third dream: i am reading, reading, reading, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I'm about halfway through, always about halfway through. The book is worn and bound into sections with different colored scraps of paper. There's a blue section, a yellow section, a red one, and they get smaller and smaller towards the end of the book. The pages are in roman numerals, and they count towards the highest number in the middle, and go back towards zero in the last half, so the pagination is symmetrical. I'm reading, reading, reading in order to write an essay. The book is the main focus. I might have been at a school before, but now we're in the car. Mrs. Fulgham, my english teacher from high school, is driving; we're on a field trip. She drives and drives in a motherly fashion; we're in a big SUV or something with a lot of students inside. The outside world whirs by peacefully, silently. I figure she is doing this to help us concentrate, and it's working. After a while we get to where we need to be, and she drops us off. Parents are called to come and pick up their kids. But mine are gone. I have left my backpack in camarillo (even though geographically it would be towards the back of Thousand Oaks), so I need to be driven back there or picked up there. Everything is amber and green as the sun sets, but the cars whiz on by on the busy roads. I stop and talk with a few parents and older figures that I know as they pick people up, but I can't get a ride back. I start walking, up on a trail, talking to my mom. She seems drunk. "If you can't come get me, it's fine. I'll just walk to Camarillo." I say this BEGRUDGINGLY. This is the alternative I've been given since nobody is there for me. I hang up.

There are a few other people walking, and I follow them. I think Cassidy from work leads the way on this trail, which weaves down through orchards and nurseries, and goes between and under picket fences in the hills. It's magical in a watership down kind of way; I feel like a little kid running around and exploring. There is danger here, but just the PERFECT amount to make it adventurous. I'm not scared at all. One particularly vivid image is me staring out over one fence, a fork in a the road. On the other side is Simi Valley (again, figuratively but not geographically)--I see the ocean and the greenery of the hill. It looks so peaceful, but to get over the fence I have to make maybe a 12 foot drop into the bushes. The ground is much lower on that side. I think to myself: "This is a leap of faith." !!!

I make my way down and end up going through that path anyways, just in passing. And I keep on, weaving and ducking in between the hills and following these hidden paths through the bushes and trees.

Nothing brought up the first dream. Oh well. I'll save this and come back and edit it if I remember today (I suspect that I will).

Whenever I want to remember my dreams, it's like I make a mental note about it right after I'm done. During the half-awake state. It's a continued effort.

One dream I remember (more may come back to me). I get off the bart station at berkeley. I have a backpack full of food, and I'm carrying a gallon of milk. Walking outside, two people strike up a conversation, which moves to my diet. Oh, you know, I try to keep it pretty paleo, low-carb, with light helpings of meat. That's my ideal diet, though it's not exactly the truth. I talk for a bit because that shit interests me. We part ways.

I meet up with Kevin Toy. He's driving a crazy nice car, and we drive around town, talking about life and everything. I sense there's a difference in attitudes between us. The kid fascinates me, though. I want to learn about him. We end up having to turn around, so we pull into someone's GARAGE. He tries to drive through the side door to turn around, but the car doesn't fit. It's an old-fashioned kind of jalopy at this point, and I'm afraid we're going to break the car and also all the shit in their garage. Kevin is still pretty lighthearted, cracking jokes and feeling good. He might be high, might have smoked in the car. I take control of the situation, and tell him to go outside since I'm afraid we're making too much noise and we're gonna wake up the occupants of the house. We are trespassing, after all. I don't want them to think it's a robbery.

So I get SERIOUS. I hit something with my foot as I'm stepping over some exercise equipment, and I start to panic. But it's OK. Chill, Joe. You're OK. I make my way back to the side door, get the keys, open it. I don't want them to lose their keys, so I close the door (leaving it unlocked) after putting the keys back inside on the floor. They should be easy to find this way.

I make my way back outside and ktoy is BLOWING BUBBLES. What a G. It's just different ways of looking at things, I guess. We walk outside; it's a really nice area. Nice cars on nice cars. And the reason why is... there's a car factory right down the road! There's a super clean mustang GT, a ferrari, lamborghini, etc. We walk into the factory and I start looking at these really awesome hoodies they have there. I'm a sucker for HIGH FASHION. We're trying to play it cool, but I overhear that the people have called the cops and they know that the robbers are in the store. Oh shit. Still trying to play it cool, though. They start to close all the garage doors all around the factory, locking us in. We don't want to RUN and give ourselves away, but I see that another group of people just took off, and they made it out. Damn.

We get stuck, and they start to interrogate us. There's a power dynamic between me and the other people. The woman who's in charge leads me down a series of hallways. Left, right, left. I don't want to backtalk her, but I guess I come off as kind of standoffish. Sure, that's fine. Just tell me where to go. Left here. Straight, down the end of the hall. Sit down.

She actually gives me a strange piece of advice: "Just stay confident, stay in control. They don't think that you did it." Odd for her to switch sides at this point. But OK.

It turns out that it's Oscar (Nilsson's) family. His sister or something; his mom. (It's not actually her; this was a dream-identification attached to a random face.) "You don't remember when we stayed with you," she says. She seems hurt. There was no real resolution to this dream. I can't remember anything after briefly talking to her. This seems to happen after I get into twisty, mazy hallway settings.

The most interesting thing about this was definitely the different modes of being assertive. BLOWING BUBBLES! So I can do all this without getting "serious," without entering into panic mode.

Also vague images of looking at a highline underneath a pier, under the water, with the waves coming, Adam DeMonte. Shitting in a toilet that's too small and having shit stream down the sides cuz I missed. "sorry, there's poo there." Trying to clean it up. Undecipherable at this point. I have to go get ready for work lol

I realized how stupid it is to not write down the "bad" dreams, when they're equally important in my development. Maybe more important; the things that are the hardest to unravel, the things that generate the most resistance, usually have a bigger payoff when you follow them through.

Not much happened last night, I slept until 8 in the morning when the light started coming through the window and then went back to sleep until 10. Had some various fragments, only one that I remember well.

There is a fair of some sorts, a gathering of people. It's like the Pride parade, except we are in a conservative place. (It's funny how I had fully forgotten about this other dream until I went to write the other down.) My family is there, Mom, Dad, sister. I walk around and around in a loop, trying to see what's going on, but also not really looking at the big crowds of people. We're all on a hill. I walk around barefoot, and I have to avoid the spiky plants and dead grass on the ground. The climate is dry and dirty. I am constantly looking for a place to sit down, walking in circles, but there are no chairs or anything. I see that my sister and others have dug big holes into the ground, which is sandy like the beach. They're sitting in them, in little hollows. I finally plop down too.

People speak around me, the peanut gallery. "It's amazing... the people are coming together." They march on down the hill, from where they were sitting on top before, and come through the main gate of the place. Outside the gate, more people are stacked. It's almost like a rally race, where the sides of the race are just people, forming a fence with their bodies. A big, janky-looking truck with metal girders running along the top of it barrels down the hill, honking. People cheer, and he screams around the corner past the gate, rounding it and passing out of view. The procession continues behind him.

The mood of this dream is odd. Everybody is very proud of themselves, yet there's a feeling of hostility in the air. Maybe this is just what people have to do sometimes.

Another: I'm hiking in the hills with my dad. Everything is very clear--we came up the road leading into the green hills, which continue up into bigger mountains. There are buildings sparsely located around us, some this way, some that way. He points out to me the directions--this is over here, that's over there. Baja (the dog!) is following us, but eventually she can't keep up. (Someone actually let her into the room I was sleeping in right before I had this dream, so that could be a reason why she showed up.) I point this out to my dad, who says "Baja is the least of my worries right now." Eventually she comes back to us.

As I get some momentum going up the hill, he pauses in pain. "My knee..." Oh, yeah. He bends down to shake it out a little bit, then we keep on. The street is almost like Western, in Santa Cruz. We can see down to the left of us a valley full of greenery, and the setting sun hits it in a beautiful golden way. We start down a side path, and my dad takes off his shoes. His Keen sandals, to be exact . He wants to go barefoot so he can "dig in" a little bit better. I don't have much problem with this terrain, but I wonder about him. Our ultimate goal was to make it up into the mountains, where there are clouds darkening the summit. It fades into obscurity because it's so far away. I don't know what's causing the darkness, maybe it's the night coming on or maybe it's just a different kind of place.

At any rate, soon after we start going down the side path, the dream fades.



On a related note I still really like the routine of waking up in the morning, drinking a cup of tea, and writing down my dreams. Seems healthy, and it gets me up and about at any rate.
Til next time.

I've been neglecting to write down the dreams that make me feel bad.

A few nights ago there was one where I carried my mom around. A railroad track that went around the coast of San Francisco, like that Mario Party game. I rode my bike around it, and she was drunk, needed help, couldn't control herself. We rode it around to the bottom, and going back uphill the tracks came apart in disrepair. I ended up climbing up the tracks, her holding onto my leg. It got steeper and steeper, and I started climbing hand over hand. I couldn't do it. We fell into the water.

This morning I had one about not being able to do my job. Staring at the menu screen again, wondering what everything was. Except I'm more aware of it this time, and I try to actually explore it a little more. Meanwhile this annoying redheaded kid is ordering a fucking hamburger and wants me to find it on the menu.

I went for a long break, thinking I had a lunch because it was my birthday. But that wasn't the case. I came back late as Robert called my phone. He needed my help. I try to find the store in the middle of a health club. I was late. Time edit log. My bad.

I was warming up with the hockey team, helping them out. Weighing them. But I wasn't part of the team, just an average-ass dude. I walk down the field and see a krumping class. The instructor asks what I'm doing, says I should come and krump. Girls in the class are giving me looks. When I come back and decide to do it, one is naked, but she puts her leotard back on. Really hot. We start to do plyometrics, but then everybody disappears. It's just me and another girl, who I'm not interested in. We go over to a bar on the mirror. I try to do a handstand on it, following her movements, but the instructor says "Don't hurt yourself, you can't do it." That's fine.

I am at a playground. This is some kind of festival, a radio show. I stand on a bench. Someone acting like a dinosaur looks up and roars at someone much taller than him, also on the bench next to me. The announcer quips that this seems a bad idea. The tall dark hairy man looms over the dino-man menacingly. And then the attention is on me. "And Mr. Galactico over here..." I am taller than everyone. "Come down!" I act my part. I do a weird twisting flip and land on the floor. I make up a silly kind of salute where I brush my hair back. Mr. galactico.

Later I do a handstand on the bench. I can hold it really well. I decide to take a leap of faith and plop my feet down. They land on planks instead of thin air, so I don't get hurt. I say "Whoa!" to my dad. "Check it out!" I'm also so flexible that I can see through my legs, bending my head way back. He is nonplussed.

I'm playing on the playground, swinging around on different things. Handles get sharper and sharper, coming down into a V of different sizes and angles as I swing out over space. I hear someone scream. A commotion. He has been fighting with my mom. She is drunk, hysterical. She lets out a horrible shriek. My dad has hit the retarded kid who comes into my work. William is unconscious and naked. He rolls around on the floor like he's dead. Fuck my parents, dude.

Another brief dream where I'm being pulled out to sea from a beach. Very vivid blues. It's beautiful. I feel the vast tug of the ocean, of oblivion, taking hold of me. I think about the forces at work, the mechanics of waves, people washing ashore. I envision the forces pulling me like exhaust from a vast jet engine, and I turn the thrusters around. Gradually the forces equalize, under the waves where I've imagined them to be working. I can feel them behind me. I wash up on shore, but the sand is sharp and it hurts my arms where I roll in from the waves. I dig through the sand and find shark teeth of all different shapes and sizes.

And I'm sick of all of these dreams. All the imagery, the attention directed AT me but not GIVEN to me, I'm sick of it. I probably could have become lucid during the ocean dream, but I didn't have the drive to. I thought I liked being physically strong, but it seems like it's just something for people to take advantage of in me, or some cry for attention that never really pans out. Check out this COOL TRICK. FUCKING WOW, nobody cares. Nobody cares about me.

The worst dreams for me aren't nightmares; even when there are zombies or some menace I think it's really interesting in a morbid way. At least I'm doing something, and there's a movie narrative I can latch onto. The worst dreams for me are those with an inescapable air of depression, of inevitable failure. My energy is directed somewhere unimportant, and so bad things happen around me. Nothing is fresh, just the same patterns of despair. I hate bad dreams.

1. grandma's coming to dinner
2. getting ready to highline/falling into the oakland harbor

We are going to have a huge family dinner at my grandparent's house. My grandma is dead, in real life, and she has been for 3 years. The most interesting thing is that she still shows up in my dreams, yet her physical body in my dreams tends to reflect the psychic attitudes we have about her spirit nowadays. She gets more decrepit and old-looking in my dreams as she fades further away from memory. Before, when she was recently passed, she would still show up in my dreams as a fully alive, talkative character, but she would fade in and out like a ghost. "Oh, I must be dreaming because there she is, and I know she is really gone."

So we are taking my grandma home from the retirement home. She is very, very old. My whole family has decided to gather at the Palos Verdes house. We make tons of preparations---one family member is bringing the potatoes, another the meat, another the sauces and garnishes, etc. MY friends are also coming. This is gonna be great. So the dinner happens, and we have to split up into two groups to eat because there are too many people. One is in the kitchen, the other in the dining room/garden room. I am waiting. Everything is dull. My grandma comes in the room, and my grandpa (who has actually now just moved into a retirement home) says that her conditions is very, very fragile. We shouldn't even talk to her for more than four or five words at a time. Family feelings. I feel kind of suffocated and bored. This is something that usually tends to happen around my family....

All my friends are here, where the hell is ADAM??? I go to the other room---there's my guy. Feelings of recognition and relief. He's got a fresh new haircut. Erik G. is there too. We have smash setups, but it's "really not appropriate" so they turn them both off again. A time and a place for everything, I suppose. I'm feeling too morose and stuffy to play smash, to let my excitement out. We end up getting out of there, me, Adam, and another friend. We make our way to a small, kind of dingy apartment. Then the WHOLE THING starts to move. What the hell?!? Is this safe? "Yeah dude, it's a people-mover." The whole complex starts sliding around, running through piles of garbage, crossing streets and charging through chain-link fences on what I assume is a pre-determined track. I'm standing on top of a fence or an awning of a porch, wondering if I should be wearing a seatbelt or at least be inside somewhere. "Oh well," I think. Safe is a relative term. I will probably be fine. More intimations of what is "safe" and what's not. It comes from wondering if this area is safe, or ghetto/shady. I'm pretty sensitive about that kind of stuff, for whatever reason. I'm way afraid of other people lashing out than I am the environment, or my body failing me. At least in those instances you have control over yourself, and it's not another will imposing upon you.

We reach the destination and the dust settles. Here's the smash. I whip out my controller. We're going to play for a bit. Adam introduces me to his hispanic friend. Turns out they live together, and are now in a relationship. Whaaaaaat....? This is alienating to me. It's always kind of a blow (in real life) to me whenever someone who seems to be hopeless or otherwise sexually confused turns out to be just "gay." Well, good for them I guess. It seems like there's a sort of comfort in adopting that label, and I've definitely wondered before "Am I just gay?"---but the answer is a resounding no. Anyways, Adam is such a friend to me that it feels like a betrayal of sorts. The dream ends.

(another dream: getting really mad at an asian fratbro because he wants to score a pingpong game differently)

Other dream: We are setting up a highline in a construction yard. Someone has brought music along, and it lends the scene a nice atmosphere. We have two lines doubled up, really loosely. I suggest that we should make it a highline, and everyone else is down. There's like a hippie group commune sitting around. One guy has these AMAZING leather socks kind of things---not quite Vibrams, but more like socks that are maneuverable and give you some extra traction. We get the highline set up and I climb up the crane, ready to do it. (While i'm waiting I'm sitting on a brick wall. Everything is rusted, cracked, kind of sketchy and unstable. But such is the life. I'm sure it will be fine.) And here come THE COPS. Police cars roll up, and their mere appearance is enough to make everybody leave. The line gets taken down, most of the hippies leave, and I'm left there high and dry. Damn it all. I do some more climbing around out of boredom before I decide that it's time to go. I gather up my stuff, take off the cool leather booties and leave them by a bunch of sleeping bags. I trip over one of the sleeping bags and find that there are people inside. They giggle and two voices come out. Presumably they're doing some hanky-panky. "Oh shit, my bad." I pack everything up into my suitcase and start rolling on back to Alameda.

I'm actually DRIVING the suitcase. The traffic is kind of crazy, and there are a few close calls where I have to brake really really hard and swerve around in different lanes to avoid hitting stopped cars (with my little pink suitcase). Finally I come to the bridge leading into Alameda. It's a retractable bridge.
http://www.acgov.org/pwa/images/mo_b...ark_street.jpg

There's a huge hurdle I have to clear, a really big swell in the road that I have to push my suitcase up and over to get ready to cross the bridge. I can't ROLL it up, so I decide to PUSH it up and over. With a great heave-ho, I overhead press it and try to roll it up... and no dice. It falls back down. I try again, still no luck. A bum on the side of the bridge offers to take it--he's on a platform that's higher up, a pedestrian path, and so i hand it to him. When I go over the side, I find that there's a whole group of people underneath the bridge. "You can just walk underneath it on this path," he says. It's a bit of sketchy scaffolding, but perfectly fine and stable. A nice metal walkway. So this is the underside, the seedy side of the area. There are a bunch of (semi-dirty) people, who actually seem to be REALLY enjoying themselves. They are waiting on either side of the bridge to cross, or otherwise just hanging out. They seem really good natured. I take my suitcase to the other side, being wary of the bridge alarms (which sound when it's about to retract). Aaaand I'm across. But I stay there, as I want to see it go up. After a little while I do a double check of all my pockets, my suitcase, and OH SHIT---I forgot my backpack on the other side! The bridge alarms have just started to sound, but I act anyways. I try to jump over the gap as it appears, and SWOOSH, I fall into the water. The current sweeps me away; it's much stronger than I expected. Thoughts of Alcatraz prisoners being swept out to sea flood me, and I know it's time to act. I trail behind a ferry for awhile, and then the current pushes me up against a wooden wall. The wall is made out of planks arranged vertically, and with all my strength I grab onto it, making a hard pinch on either side and holding on. I'm safe.

I wait for a little while for the current to die down, and then let go and wade over to shallower area. It's pretty scummy and full of algae. Everything I've heard tells me that the water in the Bay Area is unsanitary, and you can contract a rash from swimming in it. Oh well, nothing to do about it now. Meanwhile, I get a "flashback" of a news report. This is how I've made my entrance into the community... somehow there's a bit of longing that is fulfilled here, one rung down the ladder of wealth (and hygiene??) on the social ladder. "A brave soul gets swept away by the current! Footage captured from the back of a dinghy." There's me, along with a lot of other people, struggling to keep my head above water in the current. My face wavers in and out of the frame. I look mad, restless, fierce. I break away from the rest of the people holding on, and there's another shot of me in the third-person holding onto the wall. "One thing is for certain, we know he is strong. At least 6 foot 1, he uses his strength to hold onto a tiny fence! ....." sensationalist reporting like that. Here is my ego well at work in the dream world. Interesting that I take so much pride in being strong, especially when it comes to first impressions.

I walk around the edge of the water now that things have calmed down. The light is coming down in a different way. Another person walks up to me. We get to chatting. There are oysters all around the tidepools here, yet everything is still scummy and green. I'm not sure if I want to eat these oysters, but we start collecting them anyway. Well shit.


Analyses: Feelings of fitting in are important. I feel alienated by my family. I dislike how focused on the past they are, especially when it comes to keeping my grandmother's ghost alive. I also feel very cloistered and unable to express myself. Practically, this means to just act a little crazier any time the family comes to town. It sucks, because there's a lot of hurt in my family, but it's gotta be done.

As far as the second dream goes, it's really starting to bug me that the way I was "introduced" to this community of people, which appeared really vibrant and open, was a standalone act of physicality. But in a sense I guess that's all that I reduce myself to in daily life. I was in the third-person, and let someone else (a newscaster, at that) make the introduction for me. Personally I've been aloof. Time to get out of the comfort zone and be more genuine while doing it.

there's only one dream i really want to talk about this morning. the others were weird and indistinct, with pretty normal discombobulated imagery.

one was REALLY cool, though.

so a little backstory. last night i went to see superman with a coworker, and before we were walking around and I was talking about how much I love walking around at night. Something about the night air makes it easier for thoughts to circulate. It really does!

After the movie, she drops me off, and I start walking straightaway to the park. The moon is out, it's beautiful. Walking around the baseball diamond, there are a group of kids who seem drunk. I wonder if they'll come into the park and crash my party. I watch them silently, but they keep going down the block.

It was my plan all along to climb onto a roof and enjoy the view. Earlier before I've climbed on top of the dome and hung out 20 feet over the baseball diamond while talking on the phone. I love climbing shit. Love it. I'm really into rock climbing, too. I walk over to a different building on the other side of the field, try to pull up and throw a heel over an overhanging ledge with no feet---super hard, since the foot that's not on the roof pulling myself up is going straight along the underside of the ledge, and I can't pivot my weight around over the ledge and push up. So this is a no-go. I go around the building and find a really easy way up, stepping on a trash can, then on a wooden wall, then straight up to the roof. It's nice up there, and I see some other random walkers and a drunk guy singing on his bicycle as he rolls by. I'm texting and watching the moon.

After I get down I try two more times to do the straight pull-up method. If this was a regular wall I could get it no problem, since I could push off against it with my bottom foot. But as it is it's more like a muscle-up or something, and it's really hard to get my weight fully over and push off my left hand. I try harder this time, but I still can't get it. I'm definitely aware that falling is a possibility, but I'm not afraid. I know my body very well, and I know what I can and can't do, and i know what the danger zone is.

Fuck it, time to walk home. But on my way back there is a really big oak tree, which has grown sideways before it shoots up. It's obvious that kids walk and climb along the lower portions. I swear it's begging for me to climb it. So I do. Perfect balance walking the trunk to the upper branches, and I climb with great awareness, toeing the line. It's 1 in the morning at this point, which is liberating because I know that nobody will see me. I can do this all for myself... for whatever reason I decide to do these things. I go higher and higher. The possibility of falling is always there. That's how it should be. I feel so aware and in tune with myself. Climbing is like problem solving mixed with awareness--you notice smaller details that you can take advantage of, then visualize a plan of action with your mind, then execute it with your body, correcting and calculating all the time.

I get to the highest point in the tree. I spit and watch it fall. They say not to do this when you're a kid, but that only makes me like it more. Spat! on the ground. I let go of my feet and hang with both hands, swinging my feet a little bit. I remember my aunt telling me about the piece of pipe they had hanging over the Yosemite valley when she climbed half-dome. Before they took it down you could just hang over the valley, "just to feel the 9.8m/s^2 pulling on your body." So I do this, at the top of my tree. Not so bad. I let go with one hand. I feel the right one holding on for dear life and then---OHHH SKETCHY!!! I laugh to myself, grab hold again with the other one, and start climbing down again. Walk home, stretch, eat, meditate, go to bed.

So now for my DREAM. I'm driving back from my mom, where I have actually just gone and signed up for a climbing gym membership (which was actually merged with a grocery store, for some reason... this isn't as uncommon of an idea as you'd think). I had a milk pitcher that I drank water from. Talk about a convergence of imagery---I go to work and steam milk for coffee drinks, climb on spare time, and here they both are.

We get on the highway, but I'm walking before I know it. Following another group of kids. There are little planks sticking through on the side, where they're still building the freeway, but I find it really easy to walk on. They are cross-hatched with beams of different sizes. It's like walking on a railroad bridge.

As the freeway onramp gets higher and higher, the planks get sparser, and a little bit harder to walk on. The sketchiness factor increases. I realize that I'm wearing socks, and I can actually SLIDE along the planks which are going parallel to my direction. This is way faster and way funner than walking!! And before I know it, I'm REALLY high up. But fuck it. i realize this, and I keep sliding, albeit more carefully. The sides of what I'm walking on start to drop away, and underneath me the whole city opens up in a birds-eye view. Trees look like tiny broccoli plants on the ground, cars like little beetles milling around. I can see people like ants going about their business. And here is the final plank sticking out over the city, directly in front of me. I drop to my knees, then start to crawl out onto my stomach. It's a little windy, but not so bad that the plank is shaking around. It's like one of those videos where the Russian kids walk out to the edge of a crane. Sheer exposure. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXY5Qee1Qbs OH FUCK. my hands are so sweaty right now.

I'm fully on the edge. My head hangs over, and I look down. My legs are wrapped around it. I take out my phone to take some pictures. This is sketchy too, but I feel secure for some reason in my own capacity. None of the pictures come out. Amazing feeling, staring out over the void.

I walk back in. My mom is waiting. She sees me ecstatic, and yet she is only secondary to my pursuit. (my pursuit of myself, doing this) We're at the top of the freeway still, on a crane thing, and I go to the edge of another appendage. There's a sort of cradle which is man-sized, attached to the crane by a tether. Almost like one of those cages in the ferris wheel rides that can go inverted. I climb onto it and I feel a slight wrenching feeling in my gut. Before I know it I'm out over the edge, swinging around on the tether. But I've caught myself! This is a reaction, a survival instinct. People don't get it, I think. Not like me they don't.

I climb back up the rope holding it in, and do it again. There's the lurching feeling, and I'm holding on with all of my muscles; arms wrapped in a bear hug, legs crossed with calves strung as taught as a crossbow string. I love this feeling. It's really like a roller coaster ride, but there's no harness. Of course there's no harness. That's what makes it exciting. This is how you explore death, toeing the line. I've learned how to hold on.

So whenever I actually do stuff like this in real life, I know that I'm tempting fate (to a small degree, I don't do anything REALLY stupid). But I can't help but think that because I do this on the regular, and I've gotten so comfortable with my comfort zone and pushing ever-so-slightly beyond it, that I'm actually SAFER in my life for having done so. I might even be at my SAFEST when I'm climbing trees or balancing on rails high up or slacklining, because that's when I'm most aware. That's what people don't really get. When you do extreme sports you're LOOKING for the fall, you're cognizant of its existence as a possibility, and keeping the fear alive and healthy means that you're actually a little bit safer. So of course I'm afraid, but I don't think I'll stop. It feels too good, it keeps me alive. It might be an investment in my health... learning about exploring danger, holding on, and learning how to fall.

1. coffee stolen
2. olivia munn and counterfeit money

i didn't sleep very well, i had a lot of energy going to bed and i definitely think it carried through into my dreams. lots of tension. i've been thinking a lot about being the "alpha male" -- you are the prize -- so i figure that all that energy has to go somewhere. sleep isn't really a good place for it.

the first dream involved getting breakfast. i woke up to go to the bathroom and decided to make some eggs. i was in a room with my sister. the toilet was right there, with no door, but i figured it wasn't a big deal because it was down the hallway a little bit. i'm holding 3 raw eggs on a little plate. the plate is way too small for the eggs. i try to put them on the burner, but it spills EVERYWHERE. i sop some up with my hands, but jesus christ, raw eggs are so gross. they start to smell and it's horrible.

i later meet with up Bobby Scar, and i explain how much i hate eggs. we're gonna go to macdonald's for breakfast. even though i try to eat healthy, i figure OK, that's fine. i can get a hash brown and a cup of coffee and maybe a sausage mcmuffin to go with my eggs. i am literally SO CHEAP. i can't not eat these eggs that are half-cooked that are waiting for me at home (that make me want to puke thinking about it in the dream). i get two large cups of coffee, and we bring them back to Austin's house. i go and do something and he has STOLEN MY COFFEES and fucked them up with cream and sugar! I am so irate about this! What the fuck?!! Does he even know how hard it is to nourish myself? the pains that i take when it comes to spending money and putting things into my body? and here he is with this stupid sense of entitlement, just because he can't find HIS coffee from macdonald's after looking 20 seconds that it's OK to take mine. I get back inside after he leaves (he drives the prius out on the way to work and i walk behind a tree so he doesn't see me) and the neighbors are here. I'm so angry; I rail on him and let him have it. It's just not fair, when he has "something" and I have absolutely "NOTHING" (wahhh). Chalk it up to the emotional baggage I carry deep within

Second dream: very convoluted sci-fi plot involving dogs in the porno industry. The whole corporation dissolves, and I find myself in a multi-tiered cafe that used to be owned by them. The collapse has driven the crowds out, but the owners are trying very hard to give the people good service. Let's show 'em what they're missing out on. So the owner (someone from the coffee shop) gets Marie back on the espresso machine. She starts steaming milk. Very odd association, that she would work here. I think "Hey, this is something that I can help out with," but immediately "NAHH FUCK THAT, I DON'T WANNA DO THAT!" So I go into the arcade. They have DDR machines! DDR Extreme. I want to see if Dimitri is there, and play DDR with him.

Lapse in continuity here, though I know they are connected. Someone calls the owner and starts to follow him around. It's actually a secret organization of nuns, and the head nun is calling using a voice filter to seem like a man. They're a futuristic organization. They start to come up with all these hare-brained schemes to capture us, like sending out a decoy car while they wait to take the real one that we're in. Nothing works though. (Family guy imagery in this part, during the demonstrations of their plans. Computer imagery.) Zoom into the car, where it's me, my sister, jessica from work, another girl, and olivia munn. We drive around (actually all of the girls are interchangeable except for me and olivia munn... those asians, man) and we have a suitcase full of counterfeit money. The other model girl says "yeah i made sure to take a cool half Mil for myself." I try to get a good looking hundred dollar bill, except olivia munn keeps handing me shitty bills that are ripped or foreign money, which is too small. Eventually I settle on a fifty dollar bill. Stingy. Plus I don't wanna get implicated here. We drive to a spot to meet someone, and she begins to tear her shirt in a very calculated fashion, tucking it up around her boobs to show her stomach. I let her know that I know what she's doing. "I can do THIS" I say, and show my muscles.... biceps. "Yeah that's pretty good, what do you do?" Oh, a little this, a little that. Depends... rock climbing or weightlifting for strength, sometimes I just want to look good and I'll do pullups.... blah blah. We stop the car, but it's in a sketchy area. "What the fuck, you can't surf here. This is a horrible spot." There are black dudes walking around. Jessica gets out to ask for directions or something, and I subtly move the car. The parking brake is in a really uncomfortable spot; there are clothes or plastic bins or something underneath the seat. "It's hard to drive with the park brake pressing into my DICK" i say, getting out of the car. That's where the dream ends.

Kind of uninspired, really. Uninspired dreaming, but I figured it was still worth it to write it down. Feelings of inadequacy and dissatisfaction. Nausea, with the eggs, and uneasiness. What do I get out of being so stingy? Not much, these dreams seem to say.

sooo many amazing dreams last night. it'll be like trying to pull a movie back out of the void. just woke up. so many different images. one after the other as i was recalling them.

1. beach night, drunk at breakfast
2. spaceship love
3. WAVES

it started off as i was wandering around a downtown area. i met up with Gerry, who was drunk/crazy. The young man has grown since entering college, make no mistake. I wonder if he has done a lot of drugs, because he seems a little out of his mind and more aggressive. Anyways, after fist bumping and bro-hugging we go to an In-N-Out. They're closing up. Austin is there, many other people are there. I try to sympathize with the people who are closing, but I'm not in my right state. I have trouble ordering a double double, with ketchup and mustard instead of spread, and an ice cream cone. I end up spilling a lot of shit. I wipe some up with a coffee filter--this is one of the amazing tricks I've learned at Peet's, that coffee filters will clean up anything--and I get my ice cream cone and my hamburger (with no paper, since they're closing), and we're out of there.

Jeremy drives a big truck. I'm eating my food and trying not to spill. It's a lot but it's also reallly good. My ice cream has a lot of caramel on top. He tries to drift the car once we get to the beach, but ends up overshooting. He hits the curb and flips the car. "Every fucking time," I think. Drifting is such a bad idea. We roll over onto the sand and get out. My neck hurts for a brief second. We start driving along the beach, very slowly. There are amazing houses everywhere. It's night time, and we weave around intricately designed entryways, plants and carefully laid tile, climbing up the hill to get to the beach. A brief second of "floating" perspective; I realize that you can't really drive up this portion of the house, since there's not enough room for the truck, but call it a camera angle, like I'm following the path for a different viewer.

We make it to the beach and everyone is there. Mike Font, other people from high school. A bunch of friends. We are fucking around and having a lot of fun. It's the morning now, and I wake up groggy and dirty. I'm naked for a second, but I decide it's better to cover up. I don't wanna go around the beach naked, that would just be awkward every time I remembered. I put on the dirty pair of boxers I wore last night and a pair of shorts. I ask people if they've seen my shorts; "Why does it matter?" "Because since last night I have both shit and cum in my boxers, and I need something to cover it up." Kind of awkward, but true. There are skidmarks on them. It's interesting that putting them on is more shameful than being naked. I get the shorts and it ends up blowing over.

More fun in the sand. We are pulling at each other's clothing. (Holy shit, a full other dream of sexy water yoga from last night. Way too many.) Mike's full moon makes an appearance. Everybody laughs. I wander around and end up climbing up the SIDE of someone's HOUSE. I hit the roof and look down inside; it's arranged like a mall with an open canopy in the middle, and I drop down INTO their house and come back out the backdoor. The owner catches me, and I smile sheepishly. "HEY," he says. He gives a little smile and a thumbs-up. "Excellent work." There's a thing I have about climbing on things; it's really cool and I like taking pride in it, but I don't wanna show off. Later a bunch of other people try to climb it--a little girl gets to the top but isn't able to stand up on the roof, and she topples backwards onto her neck and folds into the sand. Luckily she isn't hurt, since she's young and supple (I suppose). Colton tries to do it, but he gets yelled at. The beach dream fades.

We have decided to go somewhere for breakfast. I'm following a girl who I took Bart with to meet with her friend and her family. She's into fitness (even though not as fit as I am), and she starts running after we leave the train. She's hauling, meaning she really cares about it, and I have to move to keep up with her. We run up to the side of a hill, and meet Austin and his family. It's a really giddy happy time. Kona tackles me and I hear him speak ENGLISH, COMPREHENSIVELY, in full sentences! I burst out laughing! What the fuck!?! This is amazing? He answers one of my questions. "You can speak full sentences???" "Yeah. American english.... harder to understand." LOOOOOL. This is riotous and everyone is happy. We are drunk too (from mimosas? or something), and I end up wandering off to climb on some bleachers on the other side of the field we're on. It's a cool little jungle-gym like experience. Also, there's a car inside, a high-tech one that folds out into many different layers. The sunroof is absolutely insane; it opens up like different decks on a high-tech yacht. As I hit all the buttons to open it up and climb back out again, the car starts moving. At the time I think it's just a part of the sunroof/high tech bleachers moving me along, but after I get out the DRIVER of the car gets out and confronts me. Oh, shit... sorry. So I guess she had driven me back to the family. Interestingly, she again didn't care so much, and was impressed by my climbing prowess.

We make our way to the ethnic family reunion. It's roughly set in Palos Verdes. We're eating food. I bring out the chicken and rice and vegetables that I brought, and I feel embarrassed that it isn't enough. I try to remember how to say "brown" in spanish, but it doesn't go. "Oh, that's ok. We just call it spaghetti here." They're not so mad after all.

My sister is there. This whole time we are able to see waves, far off in the distance. The waves are absolutely ridiculous. I say "Hey, come on," and we climb down the side of my grandpa's backyard to watch it in a little outcropping with a cement bench there. They are really quite big, and they loom far-off in the distance. They start breaking, really far out, and they're just MASSIVE. Crazy, I tell her. But we have to watch. I always love to watch the waves. A sexy older lady comes by, and we chat for a bit. More people have gathered, in a reverie, to watch the waves. She says "Does anybody have any need for me to bring these two girls i know, Lolita and _____ around?" I say yeah, bring em around! Why not. "Well, they are about 8 and 14 months old." "OK, but are they REALLY hot babies?" Bad joke. She goes away, but I guess it was successful. We are rapidly becoming concerned about the size of the waves. the wavves. Looking out to see, we realize that there are a series of sea-walls, which shoot up out of the water like individual planks, looking almost like a bar spectrograph of the EQ when you listen to music, to block them. Yet they get bigger and bigger, and it's only a matter of time that they'll continue holding up. Someone does a powerpoint or hologram explanation of the "earth walls," as they're called. I go down further, almost to the edge of the ocean, to watch the waves come in. Everybody is crowded around; this is humanity's last stand in a way (at least the West Coast's last stand), and as the biggest waves start breaching over the walls (Caesar's Palace has placed an enormous logo on the side of the last wall, interestingly enough), waves of panic shoot through people. Finally the last wall skitters out, with only a few spears coming into the air like toothpicks (failing to form a wall), and then they fall and gears shoot up into the air, then land back into the water. We are definitely panicked, but this is time to take matters into our own hands. We gather all of the metal into one pile to slow down the waves, trying to do a makeshift dam, and then we brace on the steps, grabbing onto the rail, to try and diffuse some of the force of the waves as they thunder up over the defenses. As things start looking bleak, we go further down (there's an eatery of some sort down by the beach, where there are more people). One girl is ecstatic, prophetic. She says to match the hum of the waves, and hits the same pitch as the ambient noise. I'm not sure whether it's the machinery around trying to protect us making the sound or what. But we do, we all sing. Whales start to come out of the ocean, jumping over us and landing on the beach. They dig in, dedicated to protecting us. The prophet also says to use the "crab creatures, with hidden claws." An older couple takes the focus of the dream. They had been there as one of the main parties at the banquet. They start to quarrel and joke with each other, getting increasingly aggressive. The man hits the woman, who blocks it with her CRAB CLAWS. She retaliates and the man starts showing different parts of crustacean armor coming out underneath his clothes. The whole of the earth is coming out, uniting. These are all the secrets that it has to hide, the information that we had hitherto neglected to explore. We are united. I feel amazing; I have given myself selflessly over to the cohesive movement of love and protection. I'm braced against the stairs, waiting for the waves to come, and I start to read a piece of paper in my hands. As I do, it materializes into a poem. There are couplets, with slant rhymes. God, I wish I had made a point to remember it. The dream ends. I am optimistic.

I came straight here to write it down. There was also the "journey to mars" one, which was reminiscent of a different dream I had had earlier. A crew is on a mission to mars, when they start to realize they won't be able to make it back to earth. Apollo 13 style. A supernatural intelligence takes over their onboard computer, broadcasting her voice through the speakers. "You will not be able to make it back." But the crew is unconvinced; they have enough fuel, they should be able to rocket around the back side of mars, and use the gravity to come back into earth's orbit. She makes a great display on the ship's computers, explaining the real nature of the universe. One stubborn member is still unconvinced. She says, "How about this." His eyes widen. She has entered into his consciousness. She explains that our sun, along with the different stars we observe, all really funnel their energy into a massive supersun. They are connected by huge swirling pillars of fire, some different colors that we cannot see. She reveals different wonders of the universe to him, its true architecture. The only way that they will be able to make it back home, she says, is if they embark on a voyage of love, exploring the different planets of the solar system (or galaxy) and spreading love and genuine compassion to them. The success of their journey is to be tracked real-time on billboards marketing the movie back on earth. If the title changes to "voyage of love" by the release date, then they will have made it. I see this billboard driving while I'm on the freeway, on the way to another dream. (This is really reminiscent of a series of dreams I had awhile ago, where I was journeying through space. The first one with these elements was especially amazing, as I went to Jupiter's moons and swam around in the water. Everything was otherworldly and incredible; I could enter the atmospheres of the different planets as I so chose. Spreading the love around.) This dream also happened chronologically before the waves dream, lending the whole struggle a pervasive feeling of universality.

There was also a sexy yoga time dream, where we balanced on little kickboards in the water and tried to do breathing exercises. A river setting. Not much importance to this dream I think, other than the fact that it was sexual and opened up the idea that physical contact is OK. (Since I'm a completionist, too, there was an image of sneaking into my friend Steven's house back home. He did something to the pulleys to make the garage door close very quietly, but when we got back in his parents were very happy to see me.)

WOW REALLY COOL NIGHT I LOVE SLEEPING IN

very vivid imagery of shopping for clothes!

there was a big smash tournament. me and sheridan got really far in doubles. i was playing marth, and it felt like i was using the joystick of a ps2 controller. "watch, my marth and doc are about to be sick." i remember beating a double fox team on pokemon stadium, lots of chaingrabs, and doing two neutral B's--the first one to catch his full illusion, the second one to get the shorten.

the next morning i was clothes shopping with my dad. sunny outside. I was at a store with all the things i wanted: a comfortable, heat-resistant flannel shirt, new colorful shoes that were stylish and comfortable too. talking to the guy who was closing the store. i had to be back at the smash tourney to finish my matches, but i figured the clothes were more important. I picked out a pair of black nikes, while he got me some converse in my size. too much cushion, though; it rolled under when i walked. he talked about rock climbing: "rock climbers love these Brooks. Less padding, and they're great for slabs too." I put them on, walk around, run a bit. great.

the coolest thing was the vividness with which i saw the clothes. i got the colors down and the patterns and everything--different flannels, with different size checkered patterns, and different shoes too. at one point my hair was super messy, but it was funny anyways. i figured i'd just buy a hat and then go back to the tourney

didn't have much of an intention last night, still managed to recall 2 dreams or so after waking up

watching a video of my friends smoking weed at greg's house. moorpark. someone rings the doorbell. "shhhh!.... go away!" laughter.
i am in the dream now, morgan is here but also jordan arthur is impersonating him. part of an acting role. i got a text message asking if i was going to steven's birthday, to witness "the bailon moment" LOL. but i wasn't sure if it was from him or not. morgan (the real one) came back at times, with clarity. as always.

another one walking around a school. very brief elements of lucidity. "with lucid dreaming, there's never any traffic on my commute home!" i'm riding my bike through a crowd of people. i park it back down a stairwell; it's long enough to stick out of the top as well as being secured at the bottom. that ain't right.... i tell somebody that's how i know i'm in a dream.

i imagine the people gone, and take off rollerskating down the hill to get back home. i can move almost as fast on these as i can on a bike. hell yeah.

dream ends there.