sure, I'd love to go for a swim in your bedroom

this one's short and foggy, but it seemed significant.

I was living in a big, super awesome house. The bedroom was upstairs and really open, if that makes sense. there was a lot of space, you know? It was a nice night out so I decided to move my bed out to the deck. Actually, I am only calling it a deck because I was able to roll my bed out to it. It was probably the roof.
I don't remember all the details, but I remember the feeling that I had in that space. It's hard to describe, I guess...it was...mine? peaceful? nonthreatening? hell, I don't know...I felt free to move around in my house without hesitation; and if we are to assume the house to be symbolic of something bigger, that freedom is not commonly encountered in my waking hours...
.it was good.

I woke up and found that there was about two feet of standing water on the floor (roof) and it was starting to soak my bed. I also realized that I had been completely bound in spider webs as I was sleeping. They were really thick and sticky so I couldn't move very well. Think big sticky mummy--but cuter. It was weird, because everything was all gauzy and I could hardly see, but I knew what was going on.

Surprisingly, I wasn't freaked out or anything; I just started tearing my way out of the spider webs. It was tough. The webs around my legs were the first to tear and once there was a good rip in the web I was able to peel the rest off.

.weird.

damn waiters

There were about 15 people staying at my house. I know most of them from various places of employment but several auxiliary members were there as well. maybe half of my house guests were sleeping in my bed with me, including this boy that I had a "thing" with almost a year ago.
the boy and I waited until everyone fell asleep and decided to make out...heavily. OK. I'm not gonna lie; just about everything but actual intercourse was involved in the interaction. It was a very detailed dream...
Someone started opening my door (yes we were in my bed with about 6 other people) so the boy hid under my blanket. My boss (who is presently incredibly pissed at me) walked in and gave me a very accusing look. She said, "what do you think you're doing?" and pulled back the blanket. She yelled, "HE WORKS IN A F*ING RESTAURANT!" and stormed out.

sodomy trophies and car crashes

this may be the longest posting ever...
sorry.

I was asleep in someone’s basement and I was really tired. I knew that someone was trying to wake me up but all I wanted to do was sleep. Finally I realized that I was going to have to get up and face the waker in person, but I didn’t want to do so until I had gone to the bathroom and gotten ready. I tried to get upstairs without being noticed, but the route was blocked and I couldn’t find a good way out.

I got upstairs and saw that my entire family was there-ENTIRE family; people I couldn’t name but to whom I know I am related. My aunt was there and she was pressuring me to go somewhere with them. I was very resistant to leaving- I didn’t feel like interacting and I wanted to go back to bed more than anything.

I went into my aunt’s bathroom and instead of using the toilet I decided to pee on the rug.
I immediately felt bad about it but it was too late to stop. So I didn’t.

The family somehow succeeded in convincing me that if I did not go I would be the worst person ever so I got in a weird SUV thing and with my aunt (not the one I peed on) and 3 kids who are marginally related to me. As we were driving to some restaurant my aunt was unloading on me all of her psychological problems and begging me for a diagnosis. I didn’t want to diagnose her with anything and I kept saying “you’re fine, you are fine”. Eventually, I grew tired of her begging and started asking her diagnostic questions, “do you sometimes…?” type questions. She answered no to all of them except the last which involves self harm.

It was through the self-harm questioning that she revealed her true answers to the previous questions and that she did, in fact meet all the diagnostic criteria for this particular disorder. I was annoyed.

There was a lot of traffic out the night we were driving, and as we approached an intersection, I noticed the traffic was moving really fast and that all the cars were very close together as they went around the corner. We were stopped at the light behind a bunch of cars, in the center lane. Traffic going the other direction started moving just as fast as the others had. I saw a car facing my direction (but turning left at the intersection) flying down the street and I knew it wasn’t going to stop.
I didn’t see the crash, but I heard it. When the traffic cleared I saw this silver sedan completely crushed on the driver’s side. I knew that whoever had been driving was now either a bloody dead mess or a bloody live mess but either way he/she was f’ed up. Throughout this I was saying “no no no”. over and over. I wasn’t yelling and I wasn’t talking to anyone in particular, but I was very upset about the situation.

We pulled over to wait for the police so we could give a statement and just happened to be right outside the restaurant to which we were headed. My aunt started to get out an I planned on getting out of the car to talk to the police, but she told me to take the smallest girl we had been riding with and head into the restaurant. I (annoyed again) obliged and picked up the little girl.

The restaurant was set up for an awards–banquet type deal, with really odd trophies and cakes and stuff. The place was huge and full of people. My old dance teacher was there but I did not say hello (she hates me now; long story). There was a big empty stage in the front of the room and a really long curtain divider over to my right. I asked my pee-aunt what the hell was going on and she told me only that one of the honorees was not there to pick up his award.

I somehow figured out in my own that the awards represented different types of (socially) stigmatized or (socially) immoral acts that were often committed by the honorees. As I looked at the trophies, I saw that they were statues of things like gay sex and powerful women. There were about 6 that I paid close attention to and tried to figure out what they represented but I can only remember a couple. There was nothing indicating who would be receiving the awards. I mentioned to my aunt that “I think dancing is considered a sin in Alabama”. She agreed.

Just then the song “New York, New York” began playing (Sinatra, not some angry dead rapper).
Now, for 20 years I fancied myself a dancer, and this song was one which I danced to many times. It was one of those dances my former company performed every three or four years and it was good.
I was hit with the urge to start a kick line and do the dance. So I did. I looked over to my right, where there was the dividing curtain, and saw that there were about a hundred girls in costumes doing the dance along with me. I knew 3 or four of them from when I used to dance, the others were a lot younger.
The girls I knew were wearing the same costume that I wore the last time I did New York-all purple and gold and pretty- and the girls I didn’t know were wearing costumes for other dances I had done throughout the years. It was kinda neat, they were pretty age specific, for example, the 10ish year olds were wearing costumes that I wore when I was 10, etc. the one that sticks out most in my mind was this yellow monstrosity with feathers. I don’t want to talk about it.

After the song was over I went back behind the curtain to say hello to the girls I know. I had a hard time finding them, as I had to wade through a sea of sparkly children, but I finally found them. I was talking to a girl, Nichole (made that up) about the state of the company and telling her how great it was that she was still dancing. I asked her if she still had the yellow costume too. She said, “yes, but (the teacher had) turned it into something else”. What was once a shirt was now an accessory or something. She asked how I was doing and I got about 2 words out before I interrupted myself and, crying, said “I miss dance” I put my head down on a chair and cried for a couple minutes, unable to get any words out. I decided to suck it up and said, “oh well, what can you do?”, in a really sad defeated tone.

That was it.
I need medication.

I really hate tomatoes. A lot.

crap, I don't know if I can make this clean enough to post.
I don't know if anyone could.
self-censorship blows.

OK, here I go...

So I was standing on what appeared to be a television studio set. It was just me and the two actors (?) in the scene (?).

I was probably about ten feet away from them and they couldn't see me watching.
To tell you the truth, I am not even sure they knew that they were acting in a scene--I don't think they did.

While I was clearly in the room with them, there was a sort of separation like I was looking through glass or something (but I wasn't).

The room was set up with a big, low platform bed and not much else. The man and woman were (I just puked a little) lying next to each other in the spot light.

(it gets so bad)

He was probably naked and half under a blanket and she was wearing a bikini. Really, it looked like half ruffly lingerie half swim suit. You know the little tutus that the hippos wear in fantasia? It was sort of like that. It was all flowery and ruffled and f*ing horrible because this was not an attractive woman. Big and dirty are the best descriptors I can think of right now. The man wasn't particularly attractive either. I don't want to go into great detail...

god this gets twisted.

I really shouldn't post this.

.screw it.

So the big icky man is lying behind the big icky woman and he keeps reaching over her to get food off of a plate (also on the platform bed-I should stop right now).
Every time he reaches across her I notice that my own...um...christ...
OKOKOK
I know that there is some sexual penetration going on because I can feel it.

jesus christ

I am still watching the event and I am not participating in any way except I can feel everything that this woman feels. really bloody weird and not particularly pleasant.

So this goes on for a while and the woman (thankfully) tires of the activity which I have somehow been experiencing as my own.

So the guy decides to make this giant sandwich. It is the most elaborate creation ever- it's on one of those round loaf-y roll things the size of a medium sized cat. He put every topping ever on this giant sandwich; lettuce, meat, cheese, onions and really thinly sliced tomatoes, among other things.

What does this creation of my troubled brain do with the sandwich???

ugh.

He decides to put his (what's a good word?) junk (?) in it.
Yes, he did make a penis sandwich.
He gave it to the hippo woman and she leaned in to take a bite.

(i just puked again. it's fine)

SUDDENLY I am looking through her eyes and I see this giant sandwich coming toward my face. I know that I am not this woman, I am just experiencing everything that she experiences.

I didn't take a bite out of it (and I wouldn't say if I did), but the last thing I saw, before I woke up in a cold sweat, was a bunch of really thin, seedy, over-ripe tomatoes sliding out of the grossest sandwich ever and then I felt them land on my face.

I shouldn't have posted that.

That was 2 days ago and I still feel a little dirty and extremely confused. I don't know what any of that might mean and I am pretty sure I don't want to.
not ever


x

It's an ancient Navajo word. It means "stop".

So I was having a talk with dear old mom in a very small room about how she was going to move away. My primary concern, of course, was not that she was leaving, but what was going to happen to her old house. She hadn’t been living there, but apparently she had been renting it to some family. I decided I might want to buy it back and live there.

I got in my car to go look at the house and found a bunch of random papers that belonged to someone else. I started reading through them to see hat the hell they were. It was quite a process because they included weird things, like bank statements and email print outs and a letter from someone who had apparently been reading my blog and wanted to meet me about something. Thing was, all the names were in code. Don’t really remember what the signature said, but it wasn’t any real name. Something like "Super Cool Douchbag" or... something... ok, it probably wasn't Super Cool Douchbag.

At some point I realized the owner was a guy I know who I absolutely adore but in a non-dream world would probably not stalk me with bank statements.

I hunted him down and asked him to come look at my mom’ s house with me.

We went to my mom’s house and found that it was, in fact being lived in. I got inside and saw that whoever was living there was taking good care of it. It had been repainted and all the old furniture that had been covered with tomato soup stains and cat hair had been replaced.

I went into my mom’s old room and got her blanket (I have no idea) leaving the gentleman to entertain himself and started watching Young Guns 2 in the living room.

Now, I don't know why I would want to watch Young Guns 2 on a stranger's couch and I don't know why I would pick 2 over 1, unless it's the whole Balthazar Getty/Christian Slater combo thing...

.I don't question it.


After a while I went to look around the rest of the house. My mom’s room was about the same; furniture and paintings and stuff. In my head I was deciding what I would keep and what would have to go-totally redesigning the place.

I went upstairs where my old room used to be and saw that there were 2 children living there. Both of the rooms were immaculate and all LauraAshley-esque. In one room there was a lot of my old stuff, only it wasn’t personalized anymore. You know, my old picture frame with someone else's pictures in it, that sort of thing-kinda creepy when you think about it.

I went out back and was talking to the man about how I wanted to add on a room to my mom’s old bedroom. I was looking at the flowers which included hyacinths and some weird black and purple fly-trap looking thing, thinking about what I was going to plant next.

IT WAS WEIRD.

Then the whole thing shifted to a sort of stuff you have to do tomorrow dream and the fun abruptly ended.

Yeah, I know it's kind of shitty, but hey, it's the first one I've had in a while and I will not entertain bitching about content. Let me get my sea legs back, k? .k.

Oh Holy Crap!!! I have a blog???

So 8 months, huh? I guess that's not too bad...for me. Who has time to spill the contents of a tired brain when they're rocking back and forth and crying in the corner? I do, apparently. Not having time to sleep has hindered my ability to dream lately but I'm sure there's other crap going on to entertain the bored masses. I'll get to work on some super cool new stuff, k?

.ok.
x

Red satin is neat

I was harvesting stuff from my garden. Of course, I can't just go out and pick stuff, I have to do it in some weird, dreamy way. I harvested my garden Mah Jong style. What? Oh yeah, I matched plants and when I picked two that matched they disappeared. I don't question this crap.

So after I got the goodies picked I decided to wrap the garden to kill off all the weeds and grass and stuff so it would be all ready for the next planting season. I didn't wrap it in mulch, though, that would be too easy. I wrapped it in red satin.

It was really important for me that the strips of satin that I used be exactly the same. As I was cutting the fabric into strips I took great care to make sure that the ends matched and they were of equal length.

I was sitting in my livingroom getting ready to cut a third strip when I realized that my garden was actually in the center of the room and was only about a 3 foot square area cut out from the hardwood floor. I had way too much fabric and would never need all 3 strips.

livin' it up diner style

I had another “stuff I want but can’t quite have” dream, well, series of dream vignettes, I suppose. I can only remember one, though. It dealt with my living situation and what it could be. My son and I had moved back in with my mother, in the old house that I dream of often, and were taking up residence on the second floor where I lived when I was younger. Usually when I dream about the house it is different in the dream than it truly was. This time it was exactly the same as real life, except I had all my current furniture with me. My son and I were setting up a little apartment in the upstairs. One room was his and one was mine.

In addition to my pretty purple couch (a real life entity) I had acquired a set of tables and booths from some restaurant (I really, really want them). The tops were painted metallic red and the booths were metallic red vinyl. Beautiful. I was just getting the furniture set up, which is the only good part about moving, and we had to leave for some reason.

When we got back to our apartment my mother had gone through everything and left a big mess. None of the furniture was where I had left it and everything was scattered on the floor. I tried to move it back but I wasn’t strong enough.

Another part involved a boy; ‘nough said.

Tribble cookies

A male friend of mine was smitten with a girl and he wanted me to help him make her cookies. I figured that, since I was already making them, I would make some for me too. I made about 10 different kinds of really elaborate, gourmet type cookie creations. I didn’t like this girl very much and I didn’t want my friend with her so I waited until I made her “special cookies” and I put a whole bunch of salt on them. Not enough that she would get sick, just enough that she would think they were gross and lose interest in my friend. I made a plate for him and a plate for me, putting the salty ones on the bottom.

My friend took off with his plate of salty goodness and I went walking down the street with mine, looking for a gas station so I could buy cigarettes.

An old jeep pulled up next to me. The passenger door opened and inside was karate teacher that I don’t know outside dreamland. He was really, really fat- giant and he had removed the passenger and back seats so there would be room for his big fat ass. He was kind of pissed because I wasn’t in class and he told me to get in. I told him that there wasn’t room for me and that there was only one seatbelt. He leaned over and pushed the inside of the jeep, making it wider. He said we could share a seatbelt. I got in.

In the car I was tempting him with cookies. I was using every peer pressure method in the book to get him to try one-just one! He kept refusing because he was “on a diet”. I told him that some of them were really thin and would be fine for his diet. He wasn’t buying it.

I ended up back at my mom’s house. I was in her bedroom, sitting on her bed talking on the phone to my friend about random bullshit when I saw something unusual on the floor. I watched it for a while, trying to figure out what it was.

It was very flat but it had silky hair, sort of a cross between a Tribble, a Lhasa Apso and a Skate-not the rolly kind, the skim the ocean floor kind. It was really weird but it was so cute and it moved really fast-it was into everything.

I watched as it floated along the floor and rolled its self up to look like a conch shell and this iridescent white color. Then it unraveled and sort of slithered around the room. I called for my mom to come see. She answered that “it better be good” because she was eating dinner. It slithered up into her book shelf and started hissing.

I told the friend I was going to send him a picture on his phone so he could see and he said, “Make it a good one”. My mom came over near the bed where the thing was and I took a picture of it and her feet.

Ahoy, my floppy eared matey

I was working in a theme restaurant; pirate themed, I suppose. It was on a ship but it wasn’t on water or anything. The main dining area was on the main deck (I don’t really know pirate terms, so forgive me) but there was also a small dining room in an elevated part (crows nest? I don’t know).

Anyway, I arrived for my day shift and went up to the upper dining room—I’m just going to call it the crows nest, I don’t know—and my tables started filling up. It was also the middle of a shift change, so I had to take over tables from the other server but I couldn’t find her and I had absolutely no idea what was going on. What followed was a typical waitress dream; customers moved around, they changed their orders, I lost tickets, some of them wanted to order food, ALL of them were angry and I didn’t have time to ring anything in. It was chaos.

Finally I started to get drinks rung up but I couldn’t go down to the deck to get them because I kept getting sat. The other server ran upstairs with a tray full of drinks and just left them on the stairs so I had no idea what was what. I got most of them passed out when I looked over and saw some man with a leaf blower blowing sand and sawdust off the floor…and right into the drinks that were still sitting on the stairs. I was pissed.

I should describe what this man looked like because it could be significant or just entertaining. He was a little bit older than me, late 30’s or 40’s. He was wearing a green polo shirt and he had the biggest ears ever. They weren’t like big old man ears, they were like beagle ears; really long and floppy, the left one was longer than the right. It was weird.

So I followed this guy into the basement (?) of the ship, cussing and screaming all the way. I even threw a couple of drinks at him; I was so angry that he had made my hard time even harder by messing up my drinks. I tried to explain how bad he screwed me up but he just kept saying, “get another one, I don’t care, I don’t care”. After I yelled at him a bit I felt sort of bad; I knew it was an over reaction. I tried to apologize but he wouldn’t hear it. Now he was mad at me for being a bitch. I wanted him to understand my reaction and forgive me but he wouldn’t listen, even with those big ol’ ears he wouldn’t hear me.

He said, “Why don’t you just go shopping? You just come in here with all your new stuff it doesn’t matter if you work or not”
I was enraged. I said, “How dare you talk to me like you get it? I don’t have anything! I can’t shop! I don’t have any money; you don’t know what you’re talking about! You don’t know anything about me!”

We went back and forth for a while until I finally decided it was pointless and I went back to the dining room to wait on my tables. I ran back up to the main deck and as I ran around the corner I almost crashed into a family coming down the ramp. One of the little boys (11, maybe) took my picture as I turned the corner. I was startled and I screamed. I looked at the picture and it was pretty good so I asked him if he would email it to me. He said yes and I took off running again.

I got to the bar where the other server was picking up drinks. She said, “I hope you know you’re waiting on all the ‘shrimp people’ tonight.” I said, “I hope you know I am leaving in about 15 minutes.”
I looked up at the clock and I realized it was a lot later than I had thought, it was 6:30 and I needed to pick up my son by 6:30…I was going to be late. On closer inspection I saw that the clock was blurry and it was actually 7:30.

I dropped all my stuff and raced out to my car. I was going to call the daycare on my way.
I ran across the street and I noticed a police car had been parked diagonally across it. I was getting into my car when a man got out of the police car. It was clear that he was going to be robbing the store nearby because he had a bandanna tied around his face. I mentally decided to call the police on my way to the daycare.

As I was driving away I felt a breeze. I looked over and saw that both passenger doors were open; someone had been in my car. I reached over and pulled the front door closed but there was nothing I could do about the back one. It didn’t look like they had taken anything, but the inside of my car was kind of disassembled.
Um…that’s it.