Dream Log: April 18, 2000

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Bacon is made of eggs.

"I'll just be over here if you need me."

Her face was the face of the girl elf in the Dark Crystal.

When I was a bagboy at the supermarket I used to sample all the wine people bought, and lick the top of the ice cream.

Driving into the elegant maroon hotel to find parking. It was tricky but possible. A handsome blonde man by the elevator, but there wasn't room for my car in the elevator, I had to pass him by.

She looked at me disapprovingly.

So it was my sixteenth birthday, and I was home from school. Lisa, of course, was there. It was a lovely day, we spent the bulk of it under the weeping willow. At some point, we curled up together under the tree to take a nap. Something woke me up, and I found myself staring in the face of a skeleton. Lisa was gone.

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I woke up screaming. My roommate, who is an asshole, yelled at me. I'm going to see a psychologist today.

Nighttime, maybe 2340. I pull up to a gas station pump to fill my car, with a friend. La la la, filling the tank, everything's fine. I get back in the car when I'm done and drive about 2 feet when I stop and wait for this person to pull out of a spot just to my right. Apparently, part of my car JUMPS out and collides with their door. There was no physical sensation, but their door was dented and my right side mirror and door edge were fucked up (it didn't make sense). The driver of the other car was a low-rent Sofia Coppola, who goes off. I say, "You were the one who backed into me. This is your fault. I was stopped, and waiting for you." What happens next to be condensed into a brief list:

1. My friend leaves without a word.
2. The other driver continues with the attitude until she leaves without a word.

by 2355, it's just me at the gas station. I try to call my friend's cell phone number, but it's incorrect - twice, with two different people. So, feeling completely alone in the world, I start to drive...somewhere. Oh, and I never called the police, which of course I would have done IRL. I drive around and decide to go back to my car. There's a notice of impending towing, a number on the windshield scrawled in black grease pen, and a miranda letter (the hell?). Great.

Suddenly I'm riding an old bike down a sidewalk, heading west, before twilight. Flowers had grown through the sidewalk like cement wasn't an obstacle, and I tried to ride around them, but the bike was wobbly and it was a fight to keep it under control. A butterfly with the wing span of an eagle and the color of a (blue) SGI box swoops down right in front of my bike, causing it to wobble even more. There are so many flowers that I can't help riding through them....and then I see the birds, on the grass between the sidewallk and the street. One is striped like a zebra, smiling, and warbling a pleasant tune. I can even see the musical notes above its head. There are more, each like nothing I've ever seen - fantastic and beautiful..

what I think
I need to get out more, maybe go to a butterfly park (mock me and die!)
Always call the cops first
There is beauty in our heads that is suppressed by work, by worry, by pissy, obligatory things, that feels safe to surface only in a dream state.