; Dreams

Just your basic dream journal. I will attempt to record all of my dreams here, no matter how mundane or humiliating they may be.
Keep in mind, I wake up and crawl to the computer and write these before coffee, tea or anything so yeah, they're a mess. Enjoy.

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Location: Sacramento, California, United States

Sea Monkey devotee since childhood.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

catching up

So a couple of nights ago I was a girl, and I was playing and running around and then I bumped into something and instantly all fun is gone and all adults are focused on me and concerned and apparently I'm some manner of hemophiliac or something and my mom puts me in the shower and the cold water and the pruning up of my skin should help me stop bleeding apparently but I never really bleed that much anyway from this little scrape and then I'm not the girl, I'm me, and I'm writing a script about this strange girl in the dark red and purple checked dress and I'm trying to decide what to do next.
And I'm in a house with Bryna and Bryna's in the garage and her father has died (in reality he died many years ago) and she's smoking. And I want to care for her having lost her father and I don't want to respond to her smoking at such a moment but it's hard to pretend that I'm not very upset and I don't want to be with her it she's going to be a smoker and it's lame and I wake up.


Let's see if I can get this all down.

Walking with Bryna. Stopping at guys house, nice house, I think the guy is an internet friend or something. His roommate is a girl from France or Germany or somewhere that gives her an adorable accent and Bryna is impressed with a collection of ceramic blocks about the size of dominoes with a painting on each block.
There are some frogs and one frog does something wrong so I discipline him by setting him in one spot and telling him to stay but he doesn't stay and so he has to go back in his cage. It occurs to me as I'm doing it that punishing a frog may be pointless. Then we're on the run. We have the frogs, and there are people after us, military and police and such.
The nice guy with the roommate and nice house is leading our activities and we have a cantankerous old man with us in a separate truck. We pull over and the nice guy puts the frogs in the back of the old man's truck where he's towing some kind of crazy equipment. The old man complains about everything and seems by his very posture critical of all we do but he's loyal regardless particularly to the nice guy. As nice guy puts the frogs back with the crazy equipment it occurs to me that there's something unusual about these frogs and that they are why we're being pursued. He explains that now the frogs sent will be pumped back toward our pursuers.
It must work. We're no longer pursued. Now we're touring with a musical act. And a very shy girl who seems a-lot like Chelsea Wolfe (a local musician who was in a show I MC'd last night is a member of a folk band. I'm back stage. Chelsea and another girl go onstage. It's a big stage in a big hall. The girls stand behind a set piece of some sort so that can't be seen. In front of this barrier is a guy singer or maybe two. Now it seems we're in Japan and the Japanese hosts have arrange for a bevy of naked dancer/back up singers to flood that stage and they're quite adorable and as one could imagine quite surprising and surreal to our folks singers.

And then I'm driving a diesel to southern California with my friend Steve Ogden in the passenger seat. It's hard to drive the diesel and I feel like I'm about to run into someone. I keep telling myself that many other people do it so I'm sure I can. My visibility is reducing. I don't really see the road. I just see sky, or I see the road off in the distance but not right in front of me as if I'm floating above it. Steve is yelling for me to get over and I try but I end up going right down the center of a fork in the road and now we're falling. I panic and try to wake up. I fail at waking up but I succeed at realizing that this is a dream and trusting that I can enjoy it and not worry about really dying. The diesel lands on a freeway below and we keep driving. Steve is pissed and I offer him the solution which is me not driving anymore. We exit the freeway and are in a big city that seems to be all made of red brick. There is no city like this between Sac and southern California in real life. Steve wants to stop here for a big flea market.

Allen is there and when we park I explain why I couldn't drive right, how my visibility went all crazy and that I guess I can't drive diesels. Allen chimes in that I'm full of shit, that I can't drive anything. I want to punch allen in the mouth. Steve's going into a giant truckstop that advertises lots of porn. I want some porn but I don't want anyone to know I'm buying. I see a little tiny tube on the ground. It's a porn dvd rolled up like a joint. I put it in my pocket and I'm happy, I've got porn.