Dream Log: August 12, 2003

I currently experience Paxil withdrawal, which causes intense dreams.

I: BMW Menage au Trois

Mostly fuzzy, except for a bizarre sequence in which I am fondling my boyfriend in the front seat of a BMW, and one of his friends gets into the car on the other side and gets fondled too (why?!). Boyfriend wakes me up by telling me he thought I had a nightmare and that I thrashed around. I go back to sleep.

II: Toothsome Albinos at the Celebrity Convention

I am an attendee at some sort of convention for various actors and filmmakers. They are all arrayed on stadium-type seating in what appears to be a very small canyon near a cliff face. The seats are step-like and made of stone. A projection booth full of techies overlooks the room, so perhaps a movie will be shown. We have technical difficulties, so I stand up and attempt to tell a pirate joke. Other people interrupt me so much with their own chattering and joke-telling that I give up and sit down next to two good-looking, white-haired young men who, though vaguely homosexual, show an interest in me. I tell them they look like negatives of Twig and Molochai from Lost Souls, and they giggle and say something unintelligible about Poppy Z. Brite. The cell phone wakes me up. I go back to sleep.

III: Kinky Ghost Sex

This one is not as well-remembered and I can only retrieve scraps of it. A scary movie I don't want to watch. A dead person only I can see. Dying or disappearing, then some sort of sexual act of submission. My boyfriend comes home and wakes me up. I tell him I'm going to take a shower while he's out running errands. I go back to sleep.

IV: Taking a Shower With My Seagull

I am in a dream-facsimile of the apartment in which I'm currently sleeping, so I go ahead and take a shower. I find a small seagull in the shower who sits on my shoulder and is perfectly friendly. I get out, towel off, and wander out of the bathroom to show my father the wonderful little pet. The seagull removes an apricot pit from my hair. Boyfriend wakes me up, and I do not go back to sleep. I come out here to write all this down.

Now, there were other parts and other dreams that are simply not developed enough to be written. They remain as simple physical or emotional sensations. It all seems so much more tangible than reality. I don't like being awake.

I dreamt of standing in the centre of a room,

howling women whirling around and through me,

with fourth-dimensional bodies and smiles

that didn't mean anything.

She pointed to the mirror at the far end of the room -

"They are becoming loud. Something is happening,"

and soon I was dead, and she was nervous,

and you left me there in fear and anger.

People don't make any sense - we are elusive,

unkind/invisible/deceptive/illusory -

women hide each other in cupboards with knives,

while men wean children on bottles of glue.

We met at the top of the stairs, and walked together

to the ninth floor, where He had us draw pictures

of our fates - and you were in denial,

and we realised the transient nature of everything.

In drunken mania, we danced to raging techno music,

and this nonsensical thought entered my mind:

You are the ninth petal, of the ninth flower

I have plucked.