Dream Log: January 12, 2006

I dream in variations.

Last night I dreampt that I was back in my old neighborhood--well, in this case up in Gilbertsville. I was in the old house, trying to pack things, but there's so much stuff that I can't pack it all.

I've been having this dream more often.

In part, it's based on truth. When we moved, we didn't take everything with us. Furniture, toys, pictures. A china cabinate that smelled like dust and lemons and old newspaper. My first real bed, an old canopy I remember picking out with my dad at Sears. Two couches and a coffee table that I'd carved my initials and a boat into when I was four.

I hated living there. It was--is--a small town in rural Pennsylvania. I visited a friend there recently, and she noted that half the people are in the Klan, and the other half are their wives, forming anti-racism committees. An exaggeration, but not much of one. It's a strange place to live.

Two days ago, I dreampt I was back in the first house, the one in Philadelphia I lived in until I was 10. Every so often, I dream that I go back to the house and look around inside. Sometimes I even steal into the house while the current owners are there, and try to hide from them. Sometimes I dream my dad's still alive.

I hate those dreams--in them, my stepfather is alone, still a widower. And then I feel guilty for wanting my father alive.

Three days ago I dreampt that we were moving to some place in Chestnut Hill, a rich area of Philly not far from where I live now. The we was me, my mother and sister. No stepfather. No stepfather. I don't know why. And we're moving to a small apartment, not to a house.

These days, I live with my boyfriend of nearly two years. We have a nice apartment crammed with books, records, and a bad-tempered cat. My mother is horrified that I live in sin, but there's plenty of things about me she'd be horrified by. So might as well make myself happy.

And I am happy. At least, I'm happy with who I'm with. I love Dennis with everything in me.

But I don't know why I'm dreaming these dreams. Moving over and over again, moving from one old house to another. Not able to pack everything. Not able to take everything with me.

I need a dream interpreter, I guess. Or a shrink.

I was outside the College during finals. I was taking a break, wandering around. It was cloudy and the sun was setting.

It began to snow.

Thin flakes fell to the ground, forming small piles which began to melt barely a moment after reaching the ground. In the dream, I recalled that a company had been advertising their cloud seeding service heavily that winter. They would take the ashes of the dead and make it snow on a day special to the deceased or their family. An announcement would be given beforehand so that everyone would know it was snowing in commemoration of the dead.

I hadn't heard any announcements, so I wasn't sure whether the snow was natural or artificial. I felt angry at this company for making "fake" snow. Now I could never be sure if my winter wonderland was caused by the water cycle or some company making good on a family's loss.

I told myself it didn't matter, that if it was going to snow, it was going to snow. The company just helped things along. I went back inside and talked to a classmate about it. He seemed more interested in the technical aspects of the cloud seeding. I then rejoined a study group headed by my Chemistry professor.

A blonde, punkish student objected to the use of God on the exams, but professor pointed out that the exchange students weren't bothered by it. Only native students did worse.

My dream starts as a shy recruit for a terra forming project.

“Get Over Here You Scared Buncha Sissies!”

He had to yell to be heard over the din that the machines were making, especially the one that he was introducing us to.

“This Is The People Mover! If You're Not Careful, It Will Kill You!”
“Stop scaring the recruits. Instead of making them want their mommies, teach them how to use the machine right.
“Let Me Have A Volunteer!”

The first guy walked up, he was already wearing his issued jumpsuit, apparently that wasn't enough protection for this people mover machine. How far away did it send you? And how do you get back?

“This People Mover Is For Local Traffic, But There Are Ways To Make It Send You To Your Permanent Assignment”

As the guy walks over to this releasing station, he staggers back slightly, finally he sees that we're several hundred feet up. They expect him to allow them to put padding on him and then basically throw him down this chute. He starts to resist.

“We Are Not Going To Call Your Mother, Recruit. You'd Better Get Used To This, Or You're Going To Be Doing A Lot Of Walking.”

Eventually, they get through to him the safety measures that he's expected to take. The people running the machine and the training officers keep reiterating the fact that you need to keep your legs crossed, like in those waterslides. It's my turn. They couldn't pay me a million dollars to get on that thing, but everyone around me is so kind and reassuring I cannot tell that they're practically dragging me on it. This one guy comes up,

“This your first time I see, the people mover can be a little intimidating, but don't let'er scare you. Remember to keep your feet crossed, and you have this padding, keep your eyes and ears open for anything and everything...”

It was all starting to go over my head and he was rambling. The next thing I know, I am standing on the block waiting for the workers to say I can go. I remember that I need to cross my legs the minute I hit the rubber conveyor belt.

The ride is amazing, I felt like I was going 170 miles an hour, I was the fastest thing around moving in combination slide and propulsion from the belt system below me, the source of all the noise.

Suddenly, I noticed that I was going to merge on the left into some traffic up ahead, they hadn't warned me about this, and I noticed that I was the fastest thing moving. Dang! What was I going to do? There were no brakes! My plan was to swerve around the traffic until I wore off my momentum.

While swerving around the traffic (other people with their padded suits, some with cargo), I noticed that the inner bands of rubber moved slower than the outer bands. This meant if I moved right, I wouldn't be able to pass those people on the left. I was starting to get the hang of it when I ran into a large pylon. But wait, this wasn't suppose to be here! This large stack of tires had fallen in the way. There was already a clean up team moving them back into position, but they had to keep stopping and grabbing more tires from off the road. Staking them up on the side of the people mover would make it easier for them to pile them up, and move them out of the way so that the conveyor belts could be turned back on.

My dream ends with some guy (who I know is evil) trying to convince me to do something (that I know is wrong) while stacking tires. I'm not sure if anyone else can see him, but I'm not convinced to do what he wants.

Drive on and on, lecherous, your sweat blooming. She wants to live on the moon, hood up and hands clenched, dressed in little-girl blue, corkscrew movies growing out from between her fingers: Ashes and secrets would be told, done and borne. Screwing over breathy chants riddled with wormholes to other places, times; honeying in the nasty sty department. The doctor suddenly throws you the drug. Lecherous, treacherous, mindless villain.

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This has been a Dream of Music: (artist) Pieter Bourke, Lisa Gerrard / (record) The Insider: Music From The Motion Picture / (label) Columbia/Sony Music ]

Help. The media and E2 have invaded my dreams.

EXT. A STREET IN CHINATOWN, BUT A RIVER TAKES THE PLACE OF THE ROAD. EVENING.

A group of people including myself, a good friend's ex-girlfriend, a poor man's Bruce Lee, and several others approach. We all have Mad Ninja Skillz. Neon signs glow along the street.

We shoot arrows from bows. They fly true across the water, and strong cords unwind behind them. The arrows stick into exterior walls.

Several of us climb our ropes and enter the upper floors of buildings.

INT. A MIDDLE CLASS LIVING ROOM.

An elderly Chinese man gives me an urn. I return by the ropes. Unseen enemies shoot at me.

FADE.

EXT. A POST-APOCALYPTIC SETTING, RUINS OF FACTORIES AND BUILDINGS. VAST CLOUDS OF SMOKE RISE UP IN THE DISTANCE. EVENING.

A large winnebago approaches.

INT. WINNEBAGO. IT RESEMBLES A SMALL PLANE WITHIN.

Two Sheds drives. His passengers include Lex Luthor and Rupert Giles.¹

Luthor and Giles argue about each other's motivation for participating in whatever this group intends.

EXT. A LARGE, CRUMBLING RUIN OF A MUSEUM.

Two Sheds, Giles, Luthor, I, and possibly others enter the museum.

INT. A STARK, PHOSPORESCENT WHITE LABYRINTH. THE COLOR MAKES IT DIFFICULT TO DETERMINE THE LOCATION OF WALLS OR THE DIRECTION OF HALLS.

A white shadow moves against the white walls.

A feeling of dread overcomes me. We must escape the shadow.

I awake.

1. Curiously, it's the version of Luthor from Smallville, which I rarely watch. However, I have been compared at various times to both fictional characters. None of this explains Two Shed's appearance. He messaged me to let me know he was amused by the thought of driving two fictional characters in a winnebago with a cockpit.