Dog Turds and Space Invasions
By admin | July 2, 2008
I was running up stairs thinking about how I was going to tell K what I knew. I mean, how do you break something like this?
I was privileged to take part in a meeting of people who were discussing a mass of space ships that had been noticed (with high-power telescopes) coming toward earth. They looked very like blood platelets and it was unclear if we were seeing what we thought we were seeing so we had to wait to be sure. I remember going into the meeting by a left-hand door that was like going into a back conference room at a hotel. When I went in, we all were in a very narrow room with an immensely long table with people sitting around all sides. There was a door straight ahead of me that I went through, turned to my right, and then went to another door to the same room further down the wall (which would be further down the table). As I walked toward the door I looked down and noticed that the floor was littered with large dog turds. I remember thinking about RT and saying to myself, “Oh, he hasn’t cleaned up after his dog again.” When I came back into the room (entered through another door) I was at a garage party. The table was still long and there were lots of people, but everyone was drinking beer. The atmosphere and purpose had changed.
Topics: Beer Parties, Conference Rooms, Dog Turds, Garage, Space Ships | No Comments »
Bill Belichick Mopped my Bathroom
By admin | June 27, 2008
I received a call on the answering machine from NM that he would be flying in to town to visit AS and then he would be driving south. He told me to look around in the paper for something interesting to do and give him a call so we could meet up. I cleared the message and then watched a “bar indicator” move as a new message was downloaded. A message popped on the screen–very like an iPod–telling me that K had sent a movie. I watched a little girl with black hair in a sort of cheerleader outfit dancing and kicking and…well, cheering.
I went into the other room and found K mopping the floor. Outside it was raining and cold, even though I knew it was summer. She said something to the effect that, ‘it’s too bad NM is coming as we’re all tied up.’
I felt the urge to defecate and so walked down the hall to the bathroom. It was immense. I went inside and laid down on a sofa, as if waiting for the right time to use the toilet. I looked at the door while laying, which had a square window in it, and I saw his face in the window and groaned, “Not him.” It was Bill Belichick. He came in with a mop and was mopping the floor and I knew he wanted the room to himself. He asked, “What did you do today?” It was very familiar and I got the impression that he was my father or uncle or a very close relation. “We went to the park.” He said, “Good news about the kicker’s elbow.” And I knew he was referring to the place kicker, but couldn’t figure out why the kicker’s elbow mattered. Instead, I talked about the weather and said that in Fredericktown there had been hail that was “this big” I made and “OK” sign to show the size of the hail.
Later I was walking around the house and all the kids were asleep. I went to one of the “adult” bedrooms and saw MG laying on the bed almost asleep. I woke him up so that we could talk about a play we were working on.
Topics: Dark Sky, Football, Hail, Rain, Uncategorized | No Comments »
20-foot Polar Bear and a Tanker of Vaseline
By admin | June 26, 2008
My dream occupied multiple points of view. I was in car with some other guys and we were speeding down the road. Someone was after us and wanted to stop us, I knew that someone was before us as well.
Next I was at the place up the road that was preparing to stop the car. I knew that there were a bunch of crooks in it, but I don’t know what they’d done. I just knew we had to stop them and the roadblock would do the trick.
Then I was in the car again. Up ahead, in the middle fo the road a gi-normous polar bear laid across the road. He must have been 20 feet tall and hugely wide. He covered the road completely and we all in the car knew we were going to hit it. Which we did.
Then I was inside the “polar bear” which looked strangely like a control room or inside a space ship or something. The three men from the car filed into the room, they were under arrest. We explained to them that they’d run their car into a tanker truck filled with Vaseline which had just plummeted into the lake below and that we’d be pulling their company’s license..?
Topics: Car Chase, Eighteen Wheeler, Polar Bear | No Comments »
Defending the Factory
By admin | June 23, 2008
Choppy memories from last night. I was in the country: large fields and dirt/gravel roads for miles. Large farms. There was a threat of invasion of some sort so everyone holed up in a large, abandoned factory.
Then the place became a sort of conference, and yet, due to my relationship with theatres it was also like a production, not just a conference. I was handed a packet of materials that had been folded up. The page I was given was open to 47, I think. I was to present. When I looked up the woman who was presenting currently was at slide 36 or something so I knew I had 11 slides to figure out what the hell I was going to talk about. It was supposed to be PowerPoint. On the first slide there were descriptions of font sizes and positions, etc. I was very bored by the whole thing.
I flipped through the folded up materials. Page 1 had an introduction to the conference on it. I flipped some more. There were instructions for luggage and suitcases. The were instructions for table layout and who was at each table, etc.
I bumped into JB and convinced him to give the talk. He was taking control when I met the person running the show who was surprised I wasn’t talking. I told her what I had done and just then we heard JB tell his first joke and get a tremendous laugh.
The fun ended with the invasion. We were over run. I had a supply bag and plenty of weapons, but not nearly enough. I had a vision within my dream (sort of like a flashback) of the enemy preparing. There were massive birds (eagles) whose feathers were darts that could be removed and thrown. Some of our people had arrows. I had a gun, but my ammunition was limited. There were certain areas of the factory that had to be remembered: this floor had first aid, etc.
I don’t know what happened, but I was outside coming toward the factory. Time had passed. The factory had been overrun. I was coming up some stairs, slowly, with two other people. When I hit a landing my little girl ran out to me. She was all dirty and poorly dressed but she seemed happy. I picked her up and we went into a central room. There were three bums dressed something like Harlequins standing around a barrel fire. To the right was a vast cauldron, probably 30 feet in diameter–it was low, though, like a fountain in a park. The contents were boiling and in the firelight I could see parts of people floating in it. People were being dragged up to it and thrown in. Some people were voluntarily jumping in. I remember something about PH jumping in, and it became more comic. I wondered why anyone of us was sitting as close to the thing as we were. For some reason M was there, too.
There were other smaller dreams, of course, but I can’t recall them. I remember something about a truck and driving in traffic–I think there was a lot of snow or slush and heavy traffic. Then I was in a line of chairs in a classroom waiting to be called or rewarded or graded or something.
Topics: Action Sequences, Conference, Factories, Guns, Opposing Forces, Presence, Presentation, Traffic | No Comments »
Driving Bed
By admin | June 22, 2008
Again I dream of “presence.” Something there in the dark. I am sleeping in a narrow bed in the way upper part of a house. Somehow, I think it may be the house where I did a significant portion of my growing up; but, of course, the details of the interior have changed substantially: for instance, it now has more floors/levels. I am sleeping in the apex of the attic. I am comparing, somehow, the proximity of my nose to the ceiling in this place with a previous place, possibly another room below. The ceiling in the apex room is painted orange, or a ghastly tan color. I can’t remember the color of the other room. All I know is that when I sit up in the bed my head is very close to touching the ceiling. I lie down and wrap myself in blankets, afraid not to be completely covered. Conscious of my cowardice, I scold myself for being afraid.
Then, it is as if the whole bed is in the backseat of a car driving down the road. I am still cramped and held close. It is my aunt JK driving. An emotionally distant woman often as not, with a droll wit. She is driving and I am in the bed. I don’t want to leave the bed but now I know that I will have to, as I see through the window buildings that are strange to me and yet represent landmarks that I somehow know. A city that is close to home: I will have to get out and drive the rest of the way myself.
When I am out, I am stuck. At first, it is as if I need gas, and then later as if I have no car at all and need some other form of transport. Without gas, I go to pay a large, old black man on the street. He has a pad of paper and a large hand. I reach into my pocket and pull out strange old coins: some very big with antique heads on them. The units of measure are strange but I recognize those that have a 1 on them and know them to be larger units than some of the rest. Every time I pile the coins, the man loses track and then we have to re-count. I take the paper and write everything down as we go: placing the coins one-by-one in his hand. The coins disappear, presumably into his pocket, but we still disagree on the count and when I look at the tally on the paper it is unfamiliar to me, as if I have written in a language that I cannot understand, or lost my understanding of the units in which things are measured. Angry, I attempt to take my coins back but cannot.
I am then in an airport or a train station. It is my only way home, but I have no fare and no ticket. I am outside in an open area near a fence. There is a clear security presence and I know that in order to gain access to the travel I seek I must get inside, but that by doing so I risk much. Somehow, soon after this, I have a machine gun. I monitor the situation near then fence and see a train car or tram go past. It is visibly marked as a security vehicle with various jack-booted types gleefully riding past inside. As they pass, I make my move: I go through an opening in the fence. The tram stops and I am spotted almost immediately. I fire and then run into a building. Inside there are sundry pieces of machinery: massive vehicles with tracks for moving earth, etc. I jumped on a small vehicle and rode directly toward my pursuers, somehow bursting through their ranks and racing toward the train or plane I needed.
Next, I was on the plane or train and I was arriving at my destination. I was quite content with only an inkling of fear concerning how I had gained my passage: as if it were a incident in the distant past.
Topics: Action Sequences, Attic, Car, Driving Bed, Guns, Opposing Forces, Otherness, Planes, Presence, Station, Strange Coins, Trains | No Comments »
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