More dreams:
Sitting on a carpeted floor with Frank, Hilary and Mike on the couch behind us. There's a screen we're supposed to be watching,
a computer or a tv, but none of us are really looking. Frank keeps saying something, but I can never quite hear.
---
Watching a white car go by. Kathy Bates and some other people in the backseat, and one of the guys from that show Sliders
driving. They were blasting death metal and singing along. I was watching from a different version of my living room
where, on two couches, there were several people, including my aunt joanie and three old southern black ladies, and at
least one other person I knew well. everyone was talking at once and being loud, while aunt joanie was trying to use her cell
phone, and the tiniest old lady was trying to use a pager, only the noise was confusing her.
---
I had a dream where everyone was slowly turning into zombies. You were there.
We had a chance to escape, but you didn't want to. I probably died for you a few times that night.
---
I'm walking up to a large-ish building, a library or a school. Marisa is sitting in on the large grey steps with Chris K. We start talking, and
there is an awkward but funny moment when Chris and I go to kiss her at the same time. My mother walks out of the building, and I make no
attempt to move.
[later, or earlier]
In what seems to be the Aloisio's new house, which is in a more urban area yet has the interior of a large suburban house. Peter is running
around drunkenly, and there is some sort of search going on. We stumble on a passage, and accidentally end up in the neighbors house. They are
very angry, and the cops are called. We run back to the right house, but the cops are at the door. But they aren't the real cops, they're
these sort of men-for-hire, sort of like mall security. On their van "cops" is spelled oddly, with a hyphen or something, to avoid copyright
violation. We barter small rodents in exchange for our freedom. A hamster, a mouse, and a small guinea pig are handed through the door, and so
they leave us alone.
---
In a kitchen decorated mostly in white. Sitting at a high counter, drinking with my mother and her friends Suky and Maureen. I have both
a glass of red wine and a bottle of Heineken. I distinctly remember light hitting the green glass, and thinking it was a good idea to mix
the two.
---
Between 4 and 8 AM. In a school of science, trying to keep a bag of marine life alive, picking up strange worms off the floor. Traveling
with someone, walking through a desert along deserted train tracks, with a package of letters and water from the land never-ending story.
We have some kind of important mission. David Bowie was an alien with a wife and three strange children. They were watching television,
videotapes teaching him how to interact with people. Later, in an auditorium putting sugar and Coke in coffee at the bottom of a long plastic
container, Jill G. looking on and Andrea sitting a few rows in front of us. Very crowded, but nothing is happening on stage.
---
Walking in the streets of New Orleans at night. Looking for something. Walking into a shop, and commenting to someone that I was mildly
disappointed by how little French I had spoken since moving to New Orleans. My mother had stressed the opportunity to work on my speaking
skills while she was encouraging the move. Holding a bottle of wine, I approach a set of stairs, heading for a basement.
---
With a friend who seems too enthusiastic, too desperate to be cool, too much like Vince Vaughn in Swingers. There's a party he'd
heard about, all the cool, sophisticated babies were there. I felt out of place, following him as he ran past white cement buildings
and up long outdoor steps. We went inside. There were large windows and panes of glass everywhere, obscured by clusters of classy
looking people. Escalators to our far right, a fountain in a lobby downstairs. I feel everyone is older than I am, 30s or so. Vince
introduces me, almost as an afterthought, as his wife, and dashes off. Before walking on, I whisper "I'm not his wife!", not sure if I'm
amused or annoyed. I realize my cousins, Kate, Sarah, and Ali are at this party as well. Sarah's torso is wrapped in wet gauze, stained
blue and green. This is because she has just gotten a new tattoo. A series of hearts cross her diagonally, starting at her right shoulder
and ending at her left hip. They are red, but green and blue emanates from them like smoke, like dripping condensation. In fact, it is
dripping through the gauze and onto the floor. I know that Ali has something to tell me, so the two of us head towards the ladies' room.
But there is something wrong with it, it is flooded with sea water and rocks that glitter like underwater coins.
-5/07/05
---
There is a young man, and a tribe of animated, cartoonish warriors is very angry with him. He has had a child with a woman of their
tribe, or perhaps a rivaling tribe. He has offended them beyond all forgiveness. They chase him off into the hand-drawn woods. I float
away to see his woman. Past a long prairie, there is a cliff at the edge of the sea. Here she lives, alone with her infant. Time seems
to have shifted, however. She looks modern, in fact she looks like Erin G., a girl in one of my old math classes. Her baby wears a
disposable diaper, and there is a rusted-out car parked in the sand. But the baby keeps alternating between a living, breathing, normal
baby, and a doll, and a blue sketch of a thing. She is either addressing me directly, or someone else nearby, voicing worry about what to
do. Suddenly, the man arrives, running, out of breath. He seems oddly deranged, on the edge of madness but salvageable. I do not want to
think about the forests he has run through. He continues moving, to the sea. The woman does not seem to find anything amiss.
-5/3?/05
---
Neil Gaiman's vision of Morpheus, during a Renaissance phase. He was in love with a young woman. She was blonde, and beautiful,
and convinced she was too young and ignorant for him and thus rejected him. He did not know this, and had come to me for advice.
We were on a beach, at the edge of a some great unknown body of water. I was doing a tarot reading for him, turning the cards over
into the water. Some of them are actual tarot cards, others are ones I've never seen before. There's the Hanged Man, but there's
also the New Hanged Man, or possibly the Newly Hanged Man. It has two images, one of him hanging, and one of somebody helping him
down. As I turned the cards over, they started to drift off and became watercolor paintings and charcoal drawings. I began to pick
them up again, in a classroom, and then on my bedroom floor. The blonde woman had done them, and written things on the back. She had
crossed it out after, but some of it was still legible. One read something like, "Snow White says she's too young, the Prince doesn't
understand." It was all very sad. I felt bad for him. I couldn't make him happy, and I couldn't make him understand.
-4/28/05
---
There was a young woman with a pink parasol who was trying to conceal her identity. Marisa and I wanted to help her. So we
went into a store that sold red and black things: parasols, velvet masks, and strange hanging lampshades. We're kissing, but
we're also shopping for parasols. This is somehow very important to someone.
-4/05
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