Dream Log: July 29, 2000

I am with J in the countryside. Everywhere there are rolling green grassy hills. I can hear the birds calling out and the sky is blue. We are accompanied by a guide who is perhaps a farmer.

We make our way slowly, but purposefully, up a steep incline. All the way the guide talks quietly, encouragingly, reassuringly. We stop to rest several times enjoying the beautiful views.

Eventually we make it to the top of the rise. I realise that I am not tired! I feel an enormous sense of well-being. We decide that we've done enough for today and discuss possible return routes.

Some workers from our guide's farm are shouting to us from below. They need some sellotape. I realise that we don't need ours any longer. I get it from J's backpack and throw it to them.

Previous dream

(For thy browsing pleasure: Previous day / Next day and my next dream / My previous dream / Wolf's Dreamworld)

Again, not much stuff I could remember. I do remember a few bits, though.

In one point, I had got a package of Jaz disks. This was a package of six disks, cheap too (Only a part of one real Jaz disk's price), and they were slimmer than normal Jaz disks. Plus, they were colored green. Those were wrapped in plastic, though, no cover was included.

In another segment, I was going from central London to Heathrow, on a really rainy day too. I was in a truck. (Again in a truck???) My mother was there. We stopped at traffic light, and the driver jumped down from his seat, came to the back part and told me to drive. "This new person here", he said in heavily Arab-accented Finnish, "is the boss." The Boss came in the truck. "Want to see the boss?" I was under the impression these two guys were smuggling illegal immigrants or something.

I didn't dare to tell this fellow I didn't had a truck driving permit. Hmm, so I just thought that maybe I'll drive forward until they ask, and not try anything tricky.

I was sitting at the table, drinking a Fresca. I was ready to go out. My teeth were brushed, I had one of my favorite outfits on, and I was wearing colonge.

The doorbell rings. Not at all surprised, I go answer the door. It's her. She looks great.

Me: Yo....what's up?
Her: Nothin'
Me: Come in
She comes in and we hug. We don't say much to each other. Instinctively, we head down to my room. The house is cold, and she is too, although her hug feels so warm. She gets into my bed, and I follow.

I lay on my back, and she climbs on top of me. We're facing each other. My hands are on her cute little ass, but I move them up to her sides. She smiles and looks deep into my eyes.

Wake up, you have to work in half an hour and your coffee's ready. I wake up and grab the Fresca at my nightside table and take a sip. She's going to be here in a few hours...and I'll be able to feel her warmth outside my dream. Imagine that.

We were driving and driving and this time it was me who would not tell Skyler what is wrong. The doubleheaded dog bit me every time I picked it up. Then it was time for writing class and we were all in the pool. We made our own floats out of baking soda and vinegar. They foamed up and froze into big gray porous lumps. I was holding a whole stack of assignments and couldn't pick one. That girl hated me. That boy would not shut up. It was a murder before it was a murder and we hung up on the FBI.

Shaving the long hair off of my head in the shower I notice in the mirror that the razor is too dull leaving patches of bald spots. Dripping footprints step by step across the floor, I ask the Chihuahua what kind of razor I need.

You need the Bic disposable kind, they do the best job. he explains.

Incidental conversation passes between us as we drive to the store. The car suddenly dies, we coast along shifting into neutral it restarts. Pulling into the parking lot K-Mart is gone. In it's place is a hardware store. I drive through the chain link gate, a salesperson greets me. I tell him I need a speedometer cable, pulling a large cable out of a bin it's an inch an a half round, too big..... I buy it anyway too embarrassed by my hair and being in the wrong place.

Back home again the Chihuahua falls asleep on the in every sense of the word maroon bath mat and stops breathing. I blow a small puff in his mouth, he gives two sighs and stops again. I tell my husband, he doesn't hear me. Pressing his chest three times and filling the dogs lungs with air he suddenly stands up on all four gasping and quacking he tries to breath. Squeaking out some of the air I'd blown in and he seems fine. I'll have to keep an eye on him all night.

I lay down at 2PM for a nap -
getting ready to find a movie/job interview/mall – been this way once before, traced the route on a map, a kaleidoscope of a dozen unsure fragments of a dozen road trips, poorly planned or gone wrong, from my early driving history – a left turn across oncoming traffic, can’t see, my seat is facing the wrong way, someone else is driving – "Moshe, get the fuck out of the car!" as I physically drag him from the driver’s seat. And who is that other passenger? A friend from the post-Tracy era, or a current coworker? High speed, beating on the transmission, trying to keep up with the stop-and-go flow of traffic, big trucks bearing down but can’t see through the gray-fogged windshield, is it foggy or is it night? Is this a dream? It better be, out of control and wipe the windshield inside with my flannelled or sweatjacketed sleeve, it doesn’t help for long – I think I’d like to wake up now - a shortcut into an industrial park dead-end, into a warehouse, across the defunct (or are they?) tracks of a historic train station under renovation, have to portage the car over a patch of broken muddy dirt, and out onto a residential strip in Verona? Bloomfield? Staten Island, NY? Whatever, we are on actual legal streets, and the journey can resume, this is the last leg. A psychotic refrain, "the merry-go-round broke down, jee-jing, it’s Dominic the Donkey". Throughout, I have a detached gnawing sense of danger, of being lost and losing face and missing the show/appointment, of not having the money for admission or return tolls.
I wake slowly at 3:30pm, hungry, jittery.