Dream Log: November 30, 2001

I took some Benadryl before going to bed tonight because I have been having a bout of insomnia, a condition that has been reoccuring with me now after a few months of easy sleep.

I knew before taking it that it would give me some pretty eerie dreams, it usually does. The dreams I have after taking benadryl (diphenahydramine) are usually many times weirder and scarier to me then their content would make them seem. A benadryl dream about stubbing my toe is going to scare me more then a normal dream about having a kitten crawl out of my chest.

The only dream I can remember now, right after waking up, is about watching Eric Clapton record unplugged. In the dream George Harrison and Tom Petty were with him, playing Layla together. I was watching in the studio, and it felt a little weird to be hearing a man a few feet away sing about stealing the wife of the man next to him. But the music was good.

George has a wild unkempt look to him, his hair being much longer and greyer and bushier that I usually imagine. His eyes had a far away gleam in them.

Of course, when I woke up, wobbly legged around 3 AM PST, I got on the internet and found out the news. Then this suddenly innocent dream begin to make sense to me. This is a very weird event.

I died. It was interesting. I was at my friends house when all of a sudden some guys came in, there was a struggle. I was shot and killed.

After that, I was still very much "alive," stuck on earth as a sort of ghost. I still retained my personality, my knowledge, everything, except that I didn't really exist and I was invisible. I continuted on my existance as if nothing had happened, attending classes, visiting friends, family, and the like.

Visiting people was surreal, as they had known I died, but could still hear me and feel me. Eventually, special people began to see me. People whom I wanted very much for them to see me. People whom very much wanted to see me again. I became real again, at least to these special people.

This morning I woke up very happy. Although I had died, the feeling that stayed with me was that there were people who really wanted to see me. Another thing that stayed with me was that there were people who didn't know how I felt about them. My regret was that I had died and they didn't know.

Stormy weather. I couldn't sleep. She and I got into an argument, and it left me tense. Too tired to put it behind me, I waited next to her for sleep as she somehow with out moving shifted the blankets lenthwise, so that my feet poked out right next to the window. I breathed, prayed, sighed a ton, but her words, her tone, echoed and echoed in my head.

I drifted out around six...

We were in a compound. A Sears and True Value Hardware store and church foyer all in one, sprawled out through many departments and mezzanine floors. We were wandering around there for a while, past the used bride's maid dresses and the odd display of Led Zepplin Action Figure Chess Sets and remote control cars.

We snuck into a closet, and made love. Delicious. Looked down and watched myself penetrate her. When I looked up her eyes were wide and smiling.

Then we went to the church foyer and sat down at a lopsided table and drank coffee and chatted. A man approach her, asking for a cigarette. She rolled one for him, leaving the flap for him to lick. He moved close to her, touched her.

"I hope you enjoyed that," she said to him, "Cause it just made me feel cheap."

The man told her he enjoyed it fine. She became angry. I stood.

"Well, well, you want to take me then?" he asked me, raising his fists like an irish boxer. They looked tremendous. I knew he could kill me with one blow.

I felt drunk, buffered. Not nervous, which surprized me. I should be shaking right now, but I'm not. I look him in the eye and say.

"No. I don't want to take you. I want you to leave the girl alone."

He dropped his fists, shot a glance at his lackey, and they took off. G and I went outside to smoke our smokes. I asked her why she attracted that sort of crowd. She crouched down and began telling me why she hates men. I saw the two guys comming by-- the jerk-off and his squire-- and we moved out of their line of sight.

And in the dream I had a dream we were making love, and when I woke up in the dream I told her how relaxed I felt now, now that that was out of me. We continued talking and went back inside.

She told me about her dream:

"We're walking through the forest, next to a stream. Across the stream is a field full of the rubble of plane crashes. There is this huge plane crash right in the side of the mountain, and its parts are scattered everywhere and they are falling into the river. Somebody has stuck a whole bunch of American flags in the side of the mountain..."

I rolled over. And over. And stumbled out of bed at seven fifteen, trying to tell her something, trying to understand why we had to go through that argument last night, rubbing her shoulders before I left for work.

She didn't respond when I said good bye.

on the possibility of invisible

She woke and headed to work
And as she walked no one looked at her
And no one waved to her
It was like she wasn't even there

She entered her office and no one waved back
When she put up her hand
And no one held the door for her on the 5th floor
It was like she wasn't even there

She walked into the restroom and gazed at the floor length mirror
And there with the other workers all frantic hair brushes and tugged blouses
Was her own face
Quizzical and pale
But no one spoke to her
Even though she was right there

"you look like you've seen a ghost"

said a voice behind her
but when she turned around
there was no one standing
where the voice had been
no one at all