lucyoncolorado

As usual, when my life gets busy, I haven't had much recall at all lately. A few times, I've woken up with clear memories of exciting and mundane dreams, but I just haven't had the time lately to write any of them down. I've been too distracted even to keep notes of the dreams so that I can flesh them out later, and so they have all faded away. This one snippet below is something I dreamt last night. It was part of a bigger dream, but this is all I can remember. I remember this vividly because it was so pleasant!

In which we are cycling badasses...

R and I are riding our bicycles on the freeway. We are a part of a caravan from one place to another, but everyone else is driving. My father and someone else are in the car in front of us, and we pedal close behind so that we increase our speed and ease of travel by staying in an area of less resistance. Another man pulls up beside us in his car. He is middle aged and ginger haired, and he has a younger man in the passenger seat. At first we think he is driving aggressively because he boxes us in. Then we realize that he is reducing the resistance even more for us. Somehow we are now flying along at car speed, riding in the momentum that the two cars have created. It’s like we are in a tunnel of motion. After we get settled into the rhythm of the speed, it becomes extremely pleasant. The action requires just enough effort that we are wholly engaged in what we are doing, but not so much that it is a chore. We hit the zone when the action becomes effortless and we just focus on being where we are, at that moment. It's a beautiful day, and I can hear only the wind and the birds overhead. Everything seems to move in slow motion, serenely. There are mountains and canyons in the distance and the sun is shining warm on our skin. I look over at the man in the car next to us and he smiles. We are sharing the moment.

Later at the hostel, R and I are impressed at how quickly we covered the distance. Neither R nor I are tired at all; the cycling had been easy. We think of how it sounds more impressive than it really was. One day, when we tell our children that we pedaled all this way, they will think we are badasses.

OK... really I'm going to start keeping a sheet of paper by the bed again. Yet again, I woke up this morning with a very clear memory of a vivid and exciting dream, but by the time I'd brushed my teeth it was gone! I remember only these two snippets from other dreams.

In which I go for a walk about with my dog, have some fragmented adventures, and experience dreams within a dream...

I'm on a hiking trip with my dog. I remember one scene vividly. I must leave her tied to a tree in a snowy field while I hike a few more miles up to a cabin full of people with whom I have some business. When I left her tied up, I was not troubled because I thought I would be nearby and only gone for a few minutes, but as the time and distance increased, I felt a lot of anxiety about leaving her out there. Anyway, she was fine, as usual.

The rest of the dream, I only have fragments. The cabin was some sort of wilderness backpacking hostel. It was comfortable but crowded, and I remember making what seemed like serious plans with a youngish and over-confident young man, blonde in a baseball cap. I had a feeling of anxiety about the people around me, as if they were a little bit on the cultish side. But right now I can't recall if I felt like the people were dangerous or if the wilderness was dangerous and the people were serious because they were professionals. I kept feeling that I'd been here before.

At some point, I was climbing and hiking with my dog. I was wearing crampons and was using an ice axe. This was difficult to do with my dog on a leash. But it was beautiful. Sunlight on snow, and a few large cedars. Again, there was the feeling of near danger, but I can't recall if people were after me or if it is just the normal focused anxiety of facing the wild elements and a difficult hike.

Throughout these fragments, I kept remembering that I'd been to all these places before in other dreams. For example, I remembered suddenly this following dream, in quite a bit of detail:

I'm a teenager visiting a friend. We are sleeping in the living room of her trailer home, and her mother wakes up late because she has worked the night shift. The living room included a wrap-around plush sofa facing a giant television. We'd pulled out the bed. Behind the sofa were two large windows with tacky long drapes. The mother sends the girl and me for a walk into the woods behind the trailer to a country corner store. We walk through pine forest until we come to two cedar planked sheds with locks on them. From the sheds, we can see the corner store and the freeway in the distance. The other girl goes on to the store, but I stay at the sheds and look in the opposite direction, towards more wilderness. I remember that many years have actually passed, and I'm on a walkabout with my dog in that wilderness. I experience major de ja vu.

Later, I am navigating a part of Mexico, trying to get through some highways to a certain destination. I thought of how I need to figure out how to get around this part of the country before A came out to join me on my travels. Again, I remember how this is just like another dream I'd have. It flashes before me, but I lose it the second I try to recall it.

In which I stumble onto the set of an adult film and am disgusted by their use of sushi-newts...

I'm backstage at a large theater, and I'm trying to get to a particular destination. I'm looking for the ladder to the catwalks. I walk into a dressing room where four or five people are filming an adult film. One woman is laying on her stomach while a man is having sex with her from behind. I'm neither shocked nor interested, but the director seems to be disappointed that I'm not. I tell him that I don't personally watch porn but it doesn't offend me that others do. I'm asking him for directions, but he really wants me to watch the filming. He is trying to shock me.

Another actor approaches, and he has a really giant penis. It is disgustingly big, like a deformity. He looks like a circus freak. Everyone laughs. Then the woman lays down on a giant piece of sushi. I remember that someone once told me that sushi used to be traditionally served on the body of a naked woman, so this didn't freak me out. I'm getting bored by the whole thing and really wish the director would tell me where the catwalks are.

Suddenly, a small piece of salmon sashimi grows two little arms and starts scurrying across the floor like a newt in a puddle.

"That's disgusting!" I tell the director, honestly. "Is someone going to eat that?"
"No," he answers. "This woman is going to have sex with it!"

There's a fetish for everyone, I suppose. It's been a long time since I was surprised to hear about someone's fetish. But having sex with a salmon-sashimi-newt creature is actually shocking. I admitted to the director that he shocked me and he was satisfied.

In which someone tells me my philosophy of life and gives me a mascot...

Someone read a line from a scroll and showed me a creature or maybe an object. This was my philosophy of life and my life mascot. I realized I was dreaming, and I thought about how important it was that I remember this. I woke up enough to sit up in bed and say the line out loud. I realized that it wasn't very profound after all- more on the level of fortune cookie wisdom. But it was applicable to my life, and besides, I was surprised at how well constructed the sentence was for something that appears in a dream. I thought right away that I should write it down and that no one would believe me that it was told to me in a dream. Then I fell back asleep and dreamed that I was writing it down. In this second dream, I also remembered that my mascot was called a whipper or a whippet, but it had nothing to do with paddles or laughing gas.

I can't remember a line of the philosophy of life.

In which I'm looking through my broken and worn jewelry...

I'm going through a drawstring bag that contains all my necklaces and braceletes. I have not taken care of them, and they are all broken and tarnished.

There was another dream, more interesting and vivid. I remembered it perfectly well this morning but did not write down notes to myself and so I forgot. It's gone now. It's hard to carve out the time/discipline to keep a dream journal while doing other things. I'm trying not to let it go altogether again. I figure something is better than nothing!

In which my brother has a new girlfriend who shaves off her eyebrows...

I'm sitting with my brother's new girlfriend. She is dark-skinned and very cute with a round face that still shows her baby fat. She has big lips and hair that curls around her forehead. But she has shaved off her eyebrows and pencils in small dotted lines instead. I'm telling her that she'd be more beautiful if she let her eyebrows grow naturally. She tells me that it is the latest fashion so I wouldn't understand. I tell her that following the latest stupid fashion makes her seem immature. This exchange ruins our introduction to one another.

I'll return later... Just to remember, here are notes about my dreams:
1) Amusement park- lines, bathroom, R, bicycle, pool hall
2) Crazy troll killer on my car window, police, freeway, crash in building, manslaughter
3) People wanting me to vote for Ron Paul
4) G visit, J with Cosmo quiz

OK- Updated. (My recall hasn't been so great. )


In which we visit an amusement park, but I spend the whole time in line with my bicycle...

R and I are at a crowded amusement park. We are waiting in a long line that twists up and down several stairs through many rooms. I have my bicycle with me, and I get out of line to ride over to a bathroom. Along the way, I get lost and end up in a food court. People are drinking beer and playing pool. I ask if I can use the bathroom, but they tell me I have to leave my bicycle outside. I don't have a lock for the bike, and the place is so crowded that I know someone will steal it if I leave it out. So instead, I walk the bicycle into the food court with me and try to get past the pool players to the bathroom, unnoticed. A few people glance at me strangely, but they do not say anything. I bring the bicycle into the bathroom with me and prop it up against the sink while I go into one of the stalls.

Later I'm looking for R again but I'd gotten so lost that I don't know where to find him. I run into Tall A, and he takes me over to R. When I get back in line, R tells me that they won't let me on any of the rides with my bicycle. I start to feel stupid carrying it around. People ask why I'm carrying it with me, and I tell them that it isn't a bicycle, it's my therapy dog. This works, and people want to pet my bicycle. The employees are fooled too but I decide not to go on any rides anyway.

At some point, the amusement park turns into a music festival and the bicycle turns into a large white poodle.


In which a crazy man jumps on my car window and tries to kill me...

I'm driving through the downtown streets of a huge, modern city. There are neon lights and sky rise apartments all around me. The city looks like Tokyo or Seoul, but I'm in the United States. There is another woman in the car with me.

A short, crazy man with long black hair and wild eyes jumps down from a balcony and lands on the back of my car. He sprawls out across my back window with his face pressed up against the glass so that when I look into my rearview, I see him making menacing faces. His eyes are dark and wide, and his mouth is salivating. He wags his tongue, shows his teeth and flares his nostrils. He looks like a troll.

I know that he's trying to kill me, and if I stop driving, he will leap on me. I frantically call the police, but they tell me that they will not even try to help unless I slow down. I explain that if I stop, the crazy man will crawl over the hood of the car and attack me, but the police say they can't do anything about it unless I come peacefully to their station.

Eventually, I crash into the penthouse of one of the skyrises. I drive the car high up into the air and then crash it through the full-wall window of the penthouse dinning room. The car comes to rest, managled and smoking, at the base of a yuppie's bar. I have calculated the angle of the impact precisely so as to kill the crazy man without injuring me or my passenger. The yuppie who lives in the penthouse stands on the other side of his bar with a drink, amazed.

Immediately the cops are at the door. I'm trying to explain why I should not be found guilty of murder, but they tell me I will stand trial for manslaughter.


In which people want me to vote for Ron Paul...

I'm having a conversation with some friends, and they tell me that they believe I'm a Ron Paul supporter. I ask them what made them think this about me, and they point to my physiology textbook. Below the title of the book is a large silver stripe that is obviously a scratch-off stripe, like one would normally see on a lottery ticket.

I scratch off the silver to reveal a petition to add Ron Paul's name to the presidential ballot. My friend tries to get me to add my name to the list. I try to avoid having a political discussion, and I get that tedious feeling that I always have when people who don't know anything about politics want to tell me their opinions. My friend won't stop telling me to sign the petition because he thinks this will be like voting for Ron Paul. Finally I tell him that he doesn't know what he is talking about, and he becomes angry with me.


In which several friends visit, and J tries to make G take a Cosmo quiz...

A and A come to visit us, and as a surprise they bring along G. The three of them, plus R and me, are sitting around the bar of a nice kitchen. It's my house in the dream, and I remember a feeling of familiarity and domestic contentment. But actually the layout of the kitchen is like at my friend S's parents' home.

We are all happy and in good spirits and catching up on old times. However, G looks really unhealthy. He is pale and much too skinny, his hair is thinning, and he's wearing 70s style glasses. He admits that the divorce he is going through has been rough on him, but it is all over now and he is happy again. He says he's excited to be back in town. Everything feels bittersweet.

J shows up with an issue of Cosmopolitan. She keeps interrupting our conversation by insisting that G take a Cosmo quiz. The questions and answers are all really stupid, but J thinks they are funny. I can tell that G thinks she is very immature, but he plays along with her because she is pretty. I want to remind him that she's half his age, but I don't want to embarrass J.


In which I take a pregnancy test...

And one more that I just remembered.

I have two small strands of paper which are supposed to be pregnancy tests. I take them into the bathroom where I pee into a large plastic bowl. I dip each strip of paper into the bowl, and after it is saturated with urine, I run the paper between two fingers to push out any excess. Then I flatten the soggy paper strip very carefully onto the linoleum floor. The process is similar to paper mache.

A few minutes later, a message appears on the first and then the second piece of paper. It's pink and has different symbols and characters on it. I can't understand what it means, so I call someone in to help me decipher it. I think it was H? She tells me that it says I am not pregnant.

In which I'm in a battle...

I'm the elder of two brothers living among some forest dwelling villagers. Our enemy lives up on a mountain above us. I can see one of them on a peak with a bow and arrow, ready to fire at us if we cross out from the tree cover. My brother and I are both the main warriors of our group, but I'm the leader. I know I'm supposed to behave heroically, and I put on a convincing front, but I know that we are actually doomed. I've given up thinking we can survive, and now I'm focused on how to face my own upcoming and painful death. At first I think that I should be noble about it, but before long I start dwelling on the fact that it's all pointless anyway. What a shame I can't just run away.

Then I get a brainstorm and decide to take a back entrance up a mountain through a stairwell in a tower. I'm not confident that this will work, but it is better than waiting to be killed.

Alarm clock wakes me up. I hit snooze and return to the dream, but now it is a modern scene and I'm me again, female as I really am and dressed as myself, in the stairwell with someone who I know is a killer. I'm hiding in the shadows.

Alarm clock wakes me up again... and that's all.

In which I'm watching a television that has a colored coded icon clock...

I'm watching television with my father. Starting in the lower left-hand corner and then continuing up and around the square edge of the screen are a series of icons similar to the windows on the desktops of computers. The pictures are of random objects with different themes. Beach icons include a sandal, a flamingo, an umbrella. Vehicle icons include a tractor, a firetruck, a backhoe. The icons light up and change colors.

I ask my dad to explain what they are, and he explains how it is an elaborate system for telling time. You tell the hour based on which theme is highlighted and the minute based on which color the icons are.


In which I almost lose the dogs... yet again...

It seems like I've been dreaming some variation on this dream for weeks now.

I'm still with my father. We are eating cheese enchiladas at a Tex-Mex restaurant and sitting in a booth next to a window. The window is framed in a heavy cloth curtain of green, red and white like the Mexican flag. We can see Lucy and Butchie outside, tied up to a pole in the sidewalk on the other side of the window.

I go to the bathroom in the back of the restaurant but the door is locked. I push it open and there is a homeless women who I know standing in the middle of the dingy bathroom.

"There's no toilet," she tells me, confused. I look around the room. It is built of crumbling bricks. The room is wet and smells of mold. Not only is there no toilet, there is no sink either.

I leave, and my father and I go out into the parking lot. We get inside his blue pickup truck. Just as we are about to leave, I look in the bed of the truck and see that the dogs are missing. My father says that we left them in his white telephone company van. So we get out of the truck and walk around the parking lot looking for his van. Finally we find it, but the dogs are not there either. The homeless woman lives in the van now.

The homeless woman tells us that she has been looking for the dogs for 24 hours. She shows us a journal that she's been keeping of her searches. She turns to a page that has hand-drawn maps of the city, including restaurants, alleyways and fields. She has scribbled notes and drawings on the pages, and she tells me to read what she's written. I look at the pages, but I can't make sense of it. It's like reading another language. She takes the book back and begins to explain.

"Whence does the earth procure its food?" she reads, "Water fell from the sky twice since they started scratching, but food has not yet come." She shows me a chart that she says shows the weather since the dogs disappeared.

Then Butchie ran up to us, excitedly. He was barking and wagging his tail. He wanted us to chase him, so we followed him to an alleyway behind the restaurant where Lucy was hiding, scared. She was fine, just a little hungry.


In which I fight for a hospital bed in an institution...

I'm returning to some sort of institution. The building is huge, like a multi-story hospital or college building, but it is mostly empty. It's also hard to get around. Most of the doors are locked. I spend some time in stair wells and looking into the doors of rooms, not sure if I should enter.

The dream is hazy now. There is a room with an older woman with gray hair and glasses leading a group of women in what appears to be some sort of exercise routine. She does not seem friendly, I am late, and for some reason I also know that I've done something to make her annoyed with me. I can't really remember this part of the dream.

Then I'm upstairs in a hospital ward with white walls and tile. The environment is sterile and cold, and there is a row of twin beds with crisp white sheets and hard pillows. I go to one of the beds which I know to be mine. There is a tall, broad-shouldered and big-boned young woman with beautiful thick and shiny black hair in my bed. She is obviously drugged and not quite awake, so I'm nervous about making her move. She is wearing fashionable stretch jeans, tucked inside her black boots, and a long-sleeved shirt. She is a big woman, but not overweight. She looks curvy and very strong. Because she is out of her mind, I'm worried that she might become violent if I'm too insistent.

I ask her to move and tell her this is my bed. She obliged me by rolling over. I tell her that I can't share the bed with her because my husband will be here soon. She starts to talk nonsense, and it occurs to me that she is dreaming. A nurse comes over and tells her that I'm correct and that she must move. She takes the black haired woman away. I climb into bed, relieved and eager to get some sleep. I'm exhausted.

When I pull down the sheets, I discover the homeless woman from the previous dream curled up at the foot of my bed as if she were a cat. She looks up at me with friendly eyes, and I remember that she is insane. Then I realize that we are in a mental institution and that I am insane also. I'm not allowed a bed to myself. I only get 1/3 of the bed. I have to share the other 2/3 with other people. Since I'm insane, this seems fair. I curl up in the bed and don't remember anymore.




NOTE: Even more than usual, these dreams were just a series of images from things that have recently happened to me in real life. Some things I noticed right off:

• cheese enchiladas from my conversation with A about Tex-Mex in London,
• the hospital imagery from taking K to surgery yesterday,
• the icons on the TV were the same as on the mobiles that were really hanging above the hospital beds,
• television from the conversation with E,
• the elaborate clock from the Radiolab podcast,
• the homeless woman is the drunk that played with the dogs down at the river,
• the little investigation book she made was just like my gardening journal,
• the line from Investigations of a Dog that I read yesterday while waiting on K,
• bathroom issues from the work on our bathroom,
• the various vehicles (Dad's blue pickup was my first vehicle and then later he gave me his work van) probably appeared because we just got a new car,
• the exercise class like mine at the Y,
• the not-friendly gray woman was like my former Physiology professor,
• and the anxiety about institutions and feeling out of place is because classes start up again tomorrow.

Therefore, these dreams are the most Wizard of Oz-like I've ever had: You were there, and you were there, and you and you and you... The brain works in weird ways!

In which I look for a telephone...

I'm walking around downtown Austin looking for a cafe where I'm supposed to meet some friends. I can't find the place, so I step into a music shop and ask the owner if I can use his phone. He doesn't have one, but he directs me to a flight of stairs just outside his building, leading up an alley of a brick wall to a second story restaurant. I go up there and see a large wooden hostess table on which there is an old fashion rotary phone. I try to sneak a dial, but an employee tells me that the phone is only for customers and that I must leave.

In which my ring gets stuck on my finger...

I'm wearing my emerald pinky ring at dinner. I have a habit of twirling it around my finger when I'm talking. I am doing this, then I slip it on my ring finger. It gets stuck, and I can't pull it off over my knuckle. I try to slide it off with spit, then I dip my finger in my wine glass to try to loosen it. The person with whom I'm dining thinks this is gross. He then offers me a tab of butter from the roll basket.

"Use this," he says. "Haven't you seen Last Tango in Paris?"

I try to lubricate my finger with butter, but the ring still won't budge.

This felt like four completely different dreams because the emotional tone and color of each was very different. But the dreams included several of the same people, and seemed tied together by the same narrative. I woke up feeling that I did not dream at all, and then suddenly I remembered everything at once.

In which I return to high school and think of a previous dream in which I returned to high school…

I’m walking through the halls of my old high school following directions that are printed on a small notecard. I enter a science room that is set up for a lab, and I realize that I’ve been there before. Years ago, after I’d completed college, I’d received a call from my high school to tell me that I didn’t really graduate. They insisted that I come back and complete a science and math class. I’d driven all the way to my home town to visit the administration and argue my case, and they’d allowed me to test out of the classes. I took the test in this room.

No wait, I thought to myself. That doesn’t make any sense. That must’ve been a dream. I must’ve dreamt that I’d returned to high school. I sat down in the science class and thought about this for a minute. Was that a dream or had I really been forced to test out of high school math and science even though I’d already completed college? I thought about this for some time without ever realizing that I was having a similar dream just again!


In which I introduce old friends to new friends in a freshman comp class, and they decide to throw ice cream at everyone…

I felt that a full day at school had passed, and the last period of the day I had English. It was a freshman comp class, and the schedule on my notecard said it would be taught by my 5th grade language arts teacher, Mrs. Mitchell. I entered the classroom, and it was full of undergraduate freshmen. I chuckled to myself that I would have to take this class despite having a BA already. The classroom was decorated like an elementary room with cute cartoon posters and stuffed animals on the wall. We sat facing a chalk board, and behind us was the retractable wall that Mrs. Mitchell shared with her friend, the social studies teacher. Mrs. Mitchell was in the class nextdoor talking to her friend, and all the students sat quietly and waited for her to return.

My seat was a pink hammock. I set my books underneath, climbed in and started to swing back and forth. I rocked myself to sleep and only woke up again when I realized I was snoring. Some of the kids around me were laughing. I noticed that B and JB were among them. I was excited to see them and eager to laugh and talk with them the way we did when we really were in high school. But I held myself back, coyly. I didn’t want to appear desperate, and I wasn’t sure if they remembered me as fondly as I remembered them. Besides, among the books beneath my hammock was my pocket-sized copy of Thoreau’s Walden that B had given me just before I’d gone backpacking after college. I had just recently taken it off the shelf at the request of a German backpacker who’d been staying with my neighbor, but I feared that B would think that I’d been carrying the book around for 10 years. I glanced at the book, stashed away under my hammock, and was relieved to see that the cover was facing down. I looked up and made eye-contact, and we all smiled.

B, JB and I walked to the front of the classroom and leaned against the chalkboard to talk. Meanwhile, I glanced about the room. I saw that R, E and JG were all present. I called E over to introduce her to B. They are both artists, so I thought they’d enjoy each other’s company. E and I had just recently talked about the inscription in my copy of Walden and I’d told her about B, so the introduction was easy.

E is a delightful person and I enjoy watching her talk with other people. She has more social skills than I do, so I stepped back and let her talk to B for a while. It was exciting to me to see two people I really like enjoy one another. They became very animated, and then E opened up a giant tub of vanilla icecream with rainbow sprinkles. She explained that she was going to throw a scoop of icecream on everyone’s face. B thought this was a brilliant idea.

E demonstrated by throwing the first scoop of icecream at B’s face. The icecream stuck to his forehead and then melted down his face in colorful streams. He stood there with it pouring over him, laughing. Then E danced through the classroom, throwing icecream on everyone. She carried the tub of icecream as if it were a basket, and she thrust her hand inside and tossed the scoops out like she were a flower girl at a wedding, sprinkling petals on the ground. The icecream came out of the tub the color of vanilla, but it streamed down people’s faces in different colors, depending on the color of the rainbow sprinkle.

JB and I declined the icecream face splat, and we sat in the back of the room watching B and E make everyone else happy. As we looked at all the students in the class, I realized that they were all kids I’d known in elementary school, including KV, AK and ST. I hadn’t seen, heard from, or thought about any of them in over 15 years. JB was trying to argue with me that it couldn’t really be those kids but I didn’t listen to him.

Then we looked at the clock and realized that it was time to go home. Mrs. Mitchell had never returned, and we supposed that class was cancelled that day. JB then argued with me about the clock and told me that I couldn’t tell time properly. I looked at the clock again and saw that the minute hand was in a different place from where it had been. Even still, it was time to leave school, I told JB. He argued with me some more about the clock but I decided to ignore him.


In which I carpool home with R and my neighbors, stopping at a factory along the way…

R, E, JG and I car-pooled back home through a country landscape of oaks and horse ranches. The sun started to set, and R explained that we needed to stop in a factory to pick up something for his job. We pulled into what appeared to be a farm with a giant barn on the property, and pulled back a heavy tin door to reveal an empty warehouse storage room with high, rafted ceilings and dirt floors. It was completely dark but for the light from outside coming shining in through the door. I worried aloud that if the sun set while we were in there, we wouldn’t be able to find our way out. R insisted that we wouldn’t be that long, and he headed confidently to the back wall of the room. The three of us followed.

R placed both hands on a giant vault wheel in the wall and struggled to turn it. It noisily turned some gears in the ceiling which caused a series of heavy chains to grind and crank about. At the right moment, R said that we must run over to a particular place in the warehouse where a trap door opened up from the ceiling and many articles fell to the ground. It looked like a pile of junk to me: a hat, a sock, an empty duffle bag, some tin cans, and a few pieces of paper. R ran over and started to pick up the items, one by one, and then set them down again.

“What are you looking for?” I asked him.

“Her mail,” R answered.

“Whose mail?” But as soon as I asked I realized he was looking for something that belonged to the yellow haired smoking woman from a dream I’d had a few nights ago. She was extremely important in our lives, but I couldn’t quite remember why. I picked out two large envelopes from the pile of junk and held them out to R.

“This seems like a really elaborate and inefficient way to get the mail,” I told R. He looked irritated that I was questioning his job. He kept looking at the other items intently. JG and E were seemingly patient, but I could tell they were just being polite. Did R ask them if it was OK if we ran an errand? It seemed like a rude thing to do to carpoolers. I was about to complain again when R took the two envelopes, picked up a stocking cap out of the pile, and we all left for home.


In which my friends have a live-in eccentric guest, and we try to help him get over the loss of a lover…

R, JG, E and I arrive at M and K’s old home in the woods, just as it was before the fire. I walk into the kitchen with M and he tells me that K is feeling better now that they have exactly rebuilt the house and put all the trees back where they used to be. Then he tells me how much he loves K and explains that he hasn’t felt this way about anyone since his previous partner of 15 years died of a long illness. His eyes are sincere and sad, and I’m overcome with emotion for him. I’d been irritated with R, but suddenly I realized how much I loved him and I wanted to run to him immediately and tell him never to die.

I walk out of the kitchen and into what should have been M and K’s living room, but instead I’m standing in a cluttered mansion’s main hall that has been decorated by someone with expensive but tacky taste. The walls are painted to look like a tapestry while the archways above the doors and the columns that buttress the ceilings and corners are bright gold. Large, fine vases and heavy velvet curtains cover the walls and Persian rugs cover the floors. Instead of furniture, there are giant, fluffy white cushions laying all about the room. Old wine glasses, full ashtrays and dirty plates are scattered about. I think of Quilty’s house at the end of Lolita.

K meets me in the room, and he can see by the look on my face that I’m shocked at the transformation of their living room. K explains that someone else lives in that room and they can’t get him to leave. He walks me over to a balding man with gray stubble who sits in a silk robe upon a cloud of white duvets and pillows. He has a lap top in front of him, and there is an ashtray at his side.

K explains that this old man has been recently jolted by his lover, and he hasn’t been able to get on with his life since. He sits at the computer and checks his email constantly, looking for messages from the man who broke his heart. When he does receive a message, it is always something hurtful that makes him rage and throw his wine glasses.

K and I sit down, one of us on either side of the man, and try to encourage him to leave the house and put the heartbreak behind him. The man pulls out a crystal monocle which has a small telescope lens attached to the end of it. He places one end of it against the computer screen and holds the other end up to his eye, then he announces with glee that he’s received an email from the estranged lover. He laughs, sings, then types out a response.

I lean over and look at the screen. The first email says, “You are stupid.” The response reads, “No, you are.”

I realize K is right. This man is crazy, and they’ll never get him out of their house.

Epic, exhausting and vivid dream last night. Took me half an hour to type it up!

In which we flee a tornado and lose ourselves in a neighbor's house...


We were on a family vacation in a forest. A path led from our cabin to a clearing where there were tennis courts and a soccer field that had been converted into my real life garden. I was inspecting my new irrigation system and talking to my Aunt C about my brother. She was complaining about how he still lived with our grandmother and had never moved out on his own and I was defending him. I was telling her how much he works, how much money he is making these days, and how my grandmother enjoys having him around. She’d decided that it would be better for him if he took an opportunity to work with a builder who was constructing her new house. She kept talking about how much better it would pay and how stupid my brother was for refusing her offer. I told her that he was thinking long term. His current job would continue to give him opportunities beyond the time it takes for her to build a house, and besides, he does not work in construction. I tried to explain how much more potential for future growth there is for a young man who is a foreman’s helper than one who nails shingles into a roof. It became obvious that she was convinced she was right and would not consider the situation from any point of view than her own so it became futile to argue with her. She was more interested in building her house than in my brother’s future. I passively agreed that I would talk to my brother about her suggestion, then headed back up the path to our cabin.

On the way, I looked out at the sky and noticed a band of blue sky layered upon the grass above which there were elaborate and colorful cloud formations. They swirled around near the ground, then came together in an expanse that billowed far up into the sky. I was transfixed and awed at first, but then I snapped out of it and realized they were about to form a giant tornado. I shouted for everyone to take cover, and I started to run back to the cabin, calling for R. At the edge of the wood, I glanced back at the sky one more time. The clouds had all combined to create a wall of bright white that spiraled together around a thick, central tunnel of blue. I could look down through the tunnel, as if I were hovering above a hurricane and looking directly down into the eye. Sunlight shone through the other side. I turned back towards the woods, which had grown thick and dark, and ran inside the trees.

All was suddenly quiet and dark. The panic had subsided and there were no fleeing people in sight. I shouted for R once again and he came running from the cabin.

“Where is everyone?” I shouted.
“They’ve all taken cover.” He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me faster than my legs could carry me.
“The dogs?” I asked.

We started shouting for the dogs to come. I could not raise my voice above speaking. I tried to whistle and failed. By now, the winds had started blowing hard and it was noisy again. I couldn’t speak loudly enough for anyone to hear me. I called for Lucy and Mott, but I knew they couldn’t hear. I kept telling R to call for them and whistle, but he simply dragged me to the porch and then darted back out into the woods. I tried to yell out at him because I could not understand where he was going and why he wasn’t helping me find the dogs.

The wind was blowing so hard by now that leaves, dust and debris flew around so thickly in front of the cabin that I could not see the trees. I was safe standing on the porch, but I knew that if I stepped off it, I would be blown away. I saw Lucy out in the yard but still could not call her. Instead, I acted like I had a treat in my hand and she came to me. I grabbed her by the collar and pulled her onto the porch. I was going to lock her in the cabin and continue to look for Mott but then I saw Nac sniffing around in the dirt just below the porch. For a second, I considered leaving her behind. Nac is a young puppy and I haven’t spent enough time with her to be fond of her. I didn’t want to risk Lucy’s safety to rescue Nac. I held tight to Lucy’s collar and tried again, pathetically, to call for Nac. She could not hear me. The storm was picking up and I wanted to get Lucy inside. Keeping one hand on Lucy, I tried to reach from the patio as far as I could to grab Nac, but the puppy thought it was a game and remained elusive. To reach her, I’d need my other hand free to hold on to the railing of the patio and use the other one to stretch out as far as I could to grab Nac. Again, I almost deserted the puppy but then I thought of how devastated my mother would be to hear that she had lost both Mott and Nac. I let go of Lucy and told her to sit and stay, then as quickly as I could, I stretched out and grabbed Nac. As soon as I got Nac back on the patio, Lucy jumped off it and ran out into the storm. Defeated, I sat back down on the patio and cried, holding the wiggly ungrateful puppy in my lap.

I felt so alone and frightened that the emotions were unbearable and my brain switched into survival mode by searching for a way out of the stress. I realized that nothing would happen to Lucy because nothing ever happens to Lucy in my dreams. I did not become lucid and the circumstances of the storm were still real enough, but I recognized on some level that Lucy was not really lost. As soon as I thought this, I saw R running back towards the cabin. He had my step-sister’s children, T and D, with him- one tucked under each arm as if they were footballs. Lucy and Trig ran behind him. I was astonished that the boys had been left out in the woods, but the tornado was at their heels by then and there was no time to discuss it. I rushed the boys into the house with the three dogs and pleaded with R to call for Mott one more time. I felt empowered by the new understanding that somehow nothing bad would really happen, so I was sure that if he called for her, she would come. To my horror, she did not. We shut the cabin door and left her out in the woods to face the tornado alone.

I wanted to cry again, but the children were here now. They were scared and needed us to be strong. I couldn’t remember how one is supposed to take shelter during a tornado in a house without a storm cellar, but I recommended that we make the boys lie down in the bathtub or else curl up in the closet. R and I started down the hall of the cabin to look for these places, but then from the window we saw the massive tornado, a swirling wall of wind and debris, coming toward us. There was no time to find a closet or a tub, so we stripped the cushions off the couch, made the boys lie on it, and then we covered them with the cushions. R and I sat on the floor beside the couch and watched the tornado from the window. It roared right past us, only a few feet from the window, devouring the trees and cabins in its path. At one point, I saw the four legs of an animal sticking up in the air and spinning around in the twister. Because the legs were white, I cried out that it must be Mott, but then when the animal circled around again I was relieved to see that it was a cow. When it was finally clear, we saw that the cabin that had been nextdoor to us had completely vanished. No closet or bathtub could have provided adequate shelter, and the cushions piled upon my step-nephews seemed ridiculously inadequate. We were alive by chance alone.

We stepped out onto the patio again to have a look around. Everything to the right of us was destroyed; there was just a barren patch of dirt covered with nothing but fallen trees and limbs. To the left, the woods and cabins were exactly as they had been. We were eager to run out and see who had survived and who needed help, but in the distance we saw my neighbor J step out of her house and wave at us, urgently. She was pointing back up in the sky, and we saw that a second tornado was coming. She beckoned us over to her house, and we saw that dozens of people were running to her home to take cover. We gathered up the kids and dogs and joined the mass. By now, the second tornado was closing in. The moment we took refuge at J’s patio, we saw the new tornado consume the cabin we had just fled.

J was in cheery spirits and offered us some tea. People wandered about her house stunned but calm. I searched their faces and did not recognize any of them. I was concerned about my family and wanted to know if everyone had indeed taken shelter as R had said. But J did not seem bothered by it. She explained that her house was a safe haven which no forces of nature could destroy. This seemed impossible to me, and I worried that the next tornado might take us all down. I wanted to move on and get out of the woods, but J insisted that I come into her living room and sit on her couch and have some tea. She was all smiles and her face was bright.

J’s living room was neat but cluttered and dark. She had decorated it in the style of frumpy but content housewives. The walls were covered with dark faux wood paneling with inset bookshelves on which myriad knick-knacks sat instead of books. The room was carpeted, and there were more carpets spread out on top. Scattered about the room were ornate coffee tables and end tables with low lamps glowing dimly beneath dark shades. Magazines, potpourri dishes, candles and fake flowers in large vases filled the room. The floral patterned couches were thickly cushioned, and it was into one of these that I sank at J’s insistence. The house appeared to carry on, one room connected to another in a maze, and I’d lost track of R, the children and the dogs. I was concerned about them, but J and the strangers in the room assured me with their friendly faces that there was nothing to worry about.

J is a musician, so it seemed appropriate that a grand piano sat in the room. I was not at all alarmed to see myself as a young girl playing Jingle Bells, poorly.

“This is just like the piano that I played at the Butler’s house the day my mother hurried us over there so that she could rush my father off to the emergency room when he cut off his thumb off with a table saw,” I explained to the others in the room. They all smiled, and we had our tea.

Will come back to flesh this out this evening, but for now so I don't forget...

R fight, old smoking lady, my hysterical fit, desperation/begging, no love, new bonding with old smoking lady- mil

Dogs, gated tunnel for rain, L and B, puppy- looking for place, euthanized cat, super kitten saved, ??

UPDATE: Well I waited too long and don't remember the details very well. Here is what I do remember:

In which I destroy my marriage then regret it...

I'm throwing a temper tantrum about something, and I'm so angry that I've lost control of my ability to speak normally. My mouth feels drunk, and I slur my words and cuss a lot. R is calm and cool; he looks at me as if he thinks I'm an immature brat. There is a woman with R who is old and somehow important to him. At some times I think she is his mother and at other times she is his boss, but when I try to think clearly about who she is I realize that neither can be true. All I know for sure is that she is an important person in his life and throwing this temper tantrum in front of her is causing real damage to my marriage. He's embarassed by me, and I know it. I'm trying to get him to respond emotionally, but he is acting too mature. The woman has fake blonde hair, almost yellow, piled up on top of her head. Her skin is slightly darker than mine, as if she is Cuban or Italian. She has too much make-up plastered on her wrinkled face of bad skin. She is overweight and dressed in bright colors that are unflattering to her figure. She chain smokes with long, fake fingernails. I decide to attack her.

I start out telling her how ugly and unhealthy she is and then I insult her character. She sits and smokes calmly. I become so angry that I end up just cussing and spitting and making a real baby out of myself. Eventually R stands up and opens the door to our house and tells me to leave. I slam the door behind me.

Now I'm sitting in the lobby of a hotel. Apparently we live in a suite in the building. I realize that I've thrown such a fit that I've destroyed my marriage. I sit down and cry. R and the old smoking lady come out into the lobby. I beg him to forgive me and I tell him that I'm sorry. He is collected and unaffected. He tells me that he doesn't love me anymore because I've become such a baby. The smoking lady has sympathy for me though. R goes back into our house, but the old lady and I sit outside and talk about losing control of emotions and saying things you don't mean. She says that R probably feels like it would be a loss of pride if he forgave me because I threw the fit in front of her. But she told me that she understood and that she would never tell anyone about it so that R would not have to lose face.

In which I try to give shelter to some animals...

The only thing I remember is that we were at a beach house, up on stilts with a large wrap-around porch. There was a hurricane coming, so we'd convered the porch into a storm-resistant tunnel for Lucy. The neighbors asked if they could put their dog there too, and we allowed them to. I can't remember at all what the rest of those notes mean, but I do recall that there were two cats- one an adult and one a kitten. We had to euthanize the adult, but we found a home for the kitten because it had some special power.

In which I talk to a parent about her child's reading...

I'm sitting down with my friend to discuss how her child is reading. I'm her child's tutor and I tell her that she needs to spend a lot more time letting the girl read aloud to her. We are eating cake while talking, and I'm acting like a know-it-all. I woke up this morning thinking that the dream was real. I was worried that I might have injured the friendship since it's not a good idea to tell people how to raise their children and I didn't choose my words well. Then I fully woke up and realized it couldn't have been real. (At least I hope not...)

In which burglars burn down my house...

R and I are driving back into town and as we get to our neighborhood we see smoke coming from the direction of our house. When we turn on our road, we see that our house has been burnt. It is still standing, but it is missing a wall, the house is blackened and smoke billows up from the roof. J and E come outside too. They have just noticed it. We are all really upset, but we walk inside to see what we can salvage. J notices that the door has been busted out and we see that there are things scattered all around the house. We realize that burglars broke into the house and stole some things, then they burned the house to cover up their actions.

I walk into the study and open the filing cabinet. My passport pouch and important papers are safe. I gather them and we all walk outside. By now, our other neighbors are over too. Everyone is sad, but I tell them that there wasn't much in the house that was of value. Then R announces that he'd forgotten to pay the home owner's insurance so we were not covered for the fire. I'm shocked and upset. We've lost everything.

I decide to go back into the house to see if the zodiac that my grandmother made me survived the fire. R and the others won't let me re-enter the house. They say that it could collapse on me and bury me alive. Everything has been lost.

In which I have an allergy attack during a job interview...

I'm interviewing for a job on the third floor of a building. The elevator opens up to a floor with two different wings with a connected shared cafeteria. I see S, hard at work, in one wing. She tells me that the cafeteria donuts are good. I go to the cafeteria and order a cup of coffee. There are a lot of people standing about, and I know most of them. We chat about the job. The interview is more a formality since I know the boss and have been working with the company for some time.

After a while, the boss and her coworker come to the cafeteria to get me. They say that they'd like coffee too and ask if I'd mind if we just conducted the interview there. I'm amenable, so we sit down at a table with our coffee and get started. Almost immediately, I start to have an allergic reaction to something. My eyes are full of tears and I can't stop the water from flowing. I start sneezing so much that I can't answer their questions. I fill up a tissue with snot. It's very distracting to my potential boss and her coworker, and they are disgusted by all the bodily fluids. They ask how frequently this happens to me, and I try to assure them that it is rare. S comes in and tries to say some supportive words, but they have already changed their minds. They are polite and professional, but it's obvious that I've lost the job.

Back down the elevator I go, and I find that I've parked my truck in the lobby. There are several dogs in my truck. I can't exit the building right away. I'm stuck in the truck with the dogs watching people get off work and walk out into the streets. For some reason, I can't get my truck out of the building. The boss and her coworker walk up and recognize me, and I'm very embarassed that I've parked my truck and my dogs indoors. They ask if the dogs were in the truck the whole time. I admit that they were, and I feel foolish.

My dream life was once pretty vivid and fun. Then I spent a year so busy that I hardly dreamed at all- or if I did, I wasn't aware of it in the morning. Things have slowed considerably the past month, so I've been noticing my dreams again. But gosh they are more boring and less vivid than they used to be. Or maybe I've just forgotten how to pay attention?

In which I have a conversation with my neighbor...

A large, well-dressed family arrives in the driveway of my neighbor's house. They are waiting to speak with him about some lucrative opportunity involving his home. They have not made an appointment. I see them through the window and call him up to let him know they are waiting. He asks me to stall them until he can get there. I go outside and make excuses. They are detached and properly polite. I can't tell if they are put out or not, but I get the sense that they don't want me to hang around and make small talk, so I tell them to make themselves at home and then I return to my own house.

Quite some time later, they are still waiting. I see one of the cars leave, and now only one couple and their driver are still waiting. I call my neighbor again and urge him to get home as soon as possible. He explains that he is trying to get there and asks me to stall them longer. I talk to the couple for a little longer, and then my neighbor arrives. He shows us around the house through secret hallways and hidden rooms that I had never seen before. The couple leaves.

My neighbor and I lean up against the fence in his yard and share a beer. It is night time and the stars are out. He tells me about some problems he is having and we have an intimate conversation. I feel really sad for him and think how much I like him and his family, and I really hope things work out for him. But I can think of no solutions for his problems. The whole dream just has a feeling of resignation and sadness. I remember feeling that life is so hard for so many good people.