Dream Log: July 7, 2001

It was twisted at the most...ate your mothers toes for toast? Drifted throught the velvet seam and welcomed another for the beginning of what might would be the ascension of a million crying angels running around in circles screaming why blue around the fringe where the stuff love is made of runs for cover under the soft mushroom ceilings of godsmurfs in the ruling class of peasants buried beneath a sea of sand with thier picture frames and blenders moving at the speed of light you get quantum smoothies

It's getting to the point where I can hardly remember my dreams at all anymore. I mean they use to hang around in my head for a little while, but now it's almost like erasing the blackboard as soon as I wake up..nothing there. I did remember this though;

I was in, what looked like a school cafeteria, except it wasn't. It was definitely a venue of a gambling nature and most likely in Reno, Nevada. It just seems that's where it was. And an old friend of mine from Atlanta came in and was looking for the owner, who he claimed was an asshole, and I tried to explain, no, he was just in a bad mood.

Now, next, all of a sudden, I'm sliding down rooftops; like tiers of rooftops, chinese tiled rooftops, and when you slide off one, you land on another, and then another, etc., etc.

And then I wake up, and the first thing that pops into my mind is, I need to go buy some more music by Tool. Hello.

• Driving down a Santa Cruz street, talking to Mario on my cell phone. We're both listening to different music and can each hear the other's tunes through the phone. The strange thing is, we realize we're listening to the same radio station. This clues us in to the fact that we are existing in two different points in time. We discuss this fact and wonder who is in the future and who in the past, how much time separates us, etc. We keep talking as I park and sit listening to the radio, waiting for a song to come on that we've already heard on the phone from the other's stereo.

• I wake up in a strange bed and try to shake the sleep from my head with no success. I stand up and survey my surroundings, slowly recalling that I am subletting this room for a couple of weeks until my long-term rental opens up. Try as I might, I can't wake up fully and remain in a half-conscious delirium. I walk out of the bedroom and meet the ten other people who live here too. One offers me a cookie and I eat it, hoping it will wake me up. It doesn't, and I talk with one of my housemates, asking him how long I've been staying here. He doesn't know and points out a tiny black spider crawling slowly up the side of the vacuum cleaner leaning against the hallway wall.