November 24, 2005 - Private School Underwater

I have been hired to teach at some kind of fancy private school. It exists in a kind of, not necessarily alternate universe, but something about the location makes it inaccesible to the regular world. Either it is in outer space, or (this feels right) it is below the ocean.

Most of the dream revolves around my orientation. The other teachers are mostly young like me, and there is a sense of how demanding the job is. Many comments about how you only get time off once every forty days or so. As though we are kind of trapped once we are there, although it’s not necessarily a bad place to be trapped. There is a sense of secretive sexuality about everything, as though the teachers are all having sex with each other, but it is only hinted at since I am a newcomer.

I begin to explore the campus on my own, looking in doors and going up stairs. There are always lots of people around: teachers, administrators, students. At one point I end up on a big athletic field with a running track. There is the sensation of surprise that the school can exist in an above ground, normal atmosphere. I think I race one of the students around the track.

November 22, 2005 - Zipblock Bag Full of Important Stuff

I am somewhere near an urban shore area. Like on a lake or ocean, with rocks and cliffs that run right up to the water, but which are also accessible from the center of the city. Reminiscent of the bridge that we scubaed under in Florida, combined with the lakeshore in Milwaukee and parts of lower Manhattan, like Battery Park.

I have put all of my important belongings in a big Ziplock bag, reminiscent of the bags that I kept my toothbrush and shampoo in for Ucross, but also of the little orangish cloth bag that I used for the car. In fact, now that I think about it, the color of the rocks in the dream is the same as that little cloth bag. Anyway, all of my important things are in this ziplock bag – wallet, keys, phone, and many other things.

For some reason I have lost this bag, but know the man who has it. I don’t know who he is, or remember anything much about him other than that he has dark hair (?) and seems unstable. I finally find him on the aforementioned orangish rocks right near a deep inlet. I don’t think I can see them, but I know that all of my things have been dumped in the water. I’m angry and ask him why he did that, and he replies that he needed the bag to hold all of his blood. I don’t see the bag anywhere, but I know that he has emptied all of the blood from his body into the ziplock bag.

He leaves and I dive into the water and begin retrieving all of my things, which are resting on the bottom of the ocean/lake floor. I don’t recall the sensation of being able to breathe underwater, but it is remarkably easy to swim around on the bottom and see everything that is down there.

November 22, 2005 - The Falling Treehouse

I’m at some kind of summer camp thing for adults. We seem to be somewhat secluded and out there. There is a river or some other kind of water. There are other people there, none of whom I remember, except that Gerry Murphy seems to be one of the camp counselor-type people.

The main part of the dream is that everyone in the camp is required to go up into a complex of treehouses that are way above the forest floor, impossibly high. At one point I am in one section of the treehouses (think Ewok village) alone, looking down at the ground, which must be at least twenty stories down. I am scared and start to think about what would happen if the treehouse fell, when suddenly I realize that the section I’m in is starting to fall. I manage to make it up some stairs and through a doorway to another part of the complex as the whole section I was in slowly rips apart and then falls. I run frantically through the rest of the complex shouting and telling people what has just happened. Finally, I meet Gerry, who tries to calm me down and assure everyone that everything is okay.

Novemver 21, 2005 - Shellee

Maybe I’m in Milwaukee? No, it’s some kind of wilderness-y, farm-y place, like Ucross. Except the whole Milwaukee extended family is there. The part that is the most vivid is:

I’m in one of the cabins, sleeping on the floor next to Shellee, her knee touching my stomach. I am very attracted to her and at the same time have the thought that her knee is the sharpest knee ever. She’s upset and we end up getting close. I think she’s kind of laying on top of me. There is a sexual feeling, but no sexual behavior really, just intimacy. She begins to talk to me about her problems, how she feels, etc. She reveals to me some really negative thought that she is hesitant to tell me. Maybe having to do with suicide. Something dark. I tell her that I have the same thought from time to time.

At some point the setting shifts to a warehouse/basement type place. Really during the above conversation. As we’re talking, and I’m telling her that I bet even Gary has these thoughts, my mom drifts into the scene from the background somewhere and interupts the conversation.

November 15, 2005 - Gotabrij

I am in a different city, possibly Portland, but that may be a post-dream projection. I’m pretty sure that there is more of the dream previous to this point, but it’s gone from me now.

So, I’m in a different city, in some kind of building. A big building like a school or university building. I’m with some friends, maybe more acquaintances. Jason Carlyle shows up somewhere in the dream, this may be it. We are in a stairwell with many other people, going to some kind of concert or show. The crowd is going up, or down the stairs like a big snake. A mass of people stuffed into a small space, all moving with energy, but without anxiety. I’m in a bad mood. Feeling alienated, and not really wanting to go to the show. Snobby. Everyone is going and is really excited, but I’m being sceptical. From scattered voices I keep being told how amazing the show will be, how the performer is a genius, etc. I become even more sceptical, but I’m swept away by the crowd and don’t seem to have much choice.

Next thing I’m sitting downstage in a big theater with several other people that I don’t know. On stage is a drumset, and behind it about twelve-twenty chairs set up in rows, like a small orchestra or string section. The theater is jammed with people to the point that audience members have to sit on the stage. This does not seem unusual to anyone. There is a shifting group of people around me, throughout the whole dream. Laying, sitting on the stage.
Two of the back orchestra chairs are taken up by a trombone player and someone playing some kind of percussion. The rest of the seats are empty. They are well dressed and of professional demeanor, but relaxed. Then, a young Latin guy in a silver-bluish tuxedo comes out. He is the one we’ve come to see. (Reminiscent of the singer-guy from 7 to Blue and that other band that we saw that night at the club crawl.) Instead of singing or saying anything, however, he sits down at the drum set and begins to play, accompanied by the two musicians at the back. I have an impression of the music sounding like more than the sum of its parts.

Then the performance begins to change. There are skips here, either in my memory of the dream, or in the dream itself.
The stage seems to get bigger and bigger as the dream progresses. The concert aspect disappears and the show becomes a kind of dance performance with many people. I get the feeling that the audience, people from the audience, are a part of the performance, and since I am sitting on the stage, it’s like the performance is starting to engulf me.
For the whole dream I am hyper aware of the people sitting/laying on the stage around me. There is always some attractive girl, either behind me or next to me. There are varying amounts of touching, and I’m never quite sure how to take it. At some points it seems like it’s being initiated by the people around me, and other times it’s like they seem angry that I’m trying to touch. I have the same kind of vacillation. Sometimes I’m enjoying it, sometimes it seems like an intrusion. There is an undertone of guilt or bad feeling for me, like I’m not supposed to be intruding on these people. One of the people near me is a girl with very curly brown-blond hair. She seems kind of perturbed by my presence.
The performance becomes more and more erotic. Always staying a dance, but very primal and sexual at points.

One part of the performance involves a whole new group of people coming onto the stage, standing very upright, in different kinds of uniforms and costumes, circling around each other. I realize as they come on that many of them are people from high school and other places in my past. Rob Mayo, Chris Jacobs. Then I spot DeMisty Bellinger, in a green army jacket and shaved head except for a few braids coming off of her head. The whole stage becomes a kind of mock gang battle or something. Posturing and pushing, but no real violence. Like some kind of dream West Side Story or something. I notice Sean Dixon at some point, too.

My little drama on the floor of the stage continues. Feeling, at different points, like I’m totally accepted into the group around me, and then like I’m not supposed to be there. But there is no verbal communication, and except for the girl with the curly hair everyone around me is faceless. I don’t see them, but only experience their presence through touch.

The next part of the performance becomes extremely erotic. Like some kind of Madonna video or something. This doesn’t last long, and I don’t really enjoy it.

The final part of the performance that I remember is incredible. As the whole thing has gone on the stage has continued to get larger and larger. Then at some point the stage right side swings open, and it is revealed that the stage goes back a long, long ways. It’s no longer an inside space only, but opens up into a big field and hills that goes back maybe a square mile. The final number involves hundreds, maybe thousands, of people in formation going all the way back to the hills a mile away. Lined up in a big semi-circle. I think they are all singing. But the memorable part of this is that there are hundreds of people dressed up in pink, blue, and other pastel animal suits. Bears, cats, dogs. Like pastel mascot costumes, complete with plastic whiskers and black noses. For some reason this is the part of the performance that sparks an emotional response in me. It’s like something from home, or from something extremely personal. Even though the farthest part of the circle is so far away, I can zoom in and see in detail the animals in the back row.

The warm feeling that this recognition sparks flows over into my personal space. There is now someone definitely touching me, laying up against my back. This posture has been present at other times in the dream, but everytime I recognize it and try to participate – touching more, trying to hold someone’s hand – the other person pulls away. This time, though, the other person doesn’t pull away, but accepts my touch. The broader performance seems to fade from my consciousness as the physical intimacy heightens. I put my head on her stomach and then her breasts, both of which are firm and comforting. There is a long period of touching and exploration which is sensual, but not really sexual. Mainly comforting, as I get a sense of complete acceptance. Then, finally I look up into her face. She is young, Indian or middle eastern looking. Long, jet black hair and big dark eyes. No older than early twenties. She is staring directly into my eyes with a feeling of complete openness. We are laying side by side, with me resting on my elbow looking down into her face. I take her hand and our fingers interlace, a gesture which had been previously rejected by the other people around me. I am looking at her completely vulnerable and open. In this moment I am completely in love with her. She is looking at me with the same openness and love, and there is a part of me that wonders if what she sees is not the real me. In the back of my mind I wonder what she could possibly see in me. I think I’m too old, ugly, etc. Then I accept her look and stop worrying. I have the feeling that it doesn’t matter what I look like or am, that she sees, in her own way, exactly what I see.
At this point we still have not spoken. Then I ask her what her name is. She says something that sounds like Gutterbridge, or Gotabrij. She is unbelievably beautiful.

That part of the dream ends there.

Next I am in some kind of pool building, dark and full of watery, blue reflections. It is a place of priviledge and luxury, like the pool in Copenhagen. She is there with me, either in the pool or in the locker room. I am standing in a doorway, maybe between the pool and the locker room, standing on one foot leaning against the door jam with the other foot up against the jam as well. I am (maybe) holding a towel, and my head is bent down in a moment of reflection. I am waiting, but more than that just experiencing the moment. Amazed at where I am and the fact that she is in the other room and will soon come out to meet me, or I will go in to meet her.

November 9, 2005 - School Bus

I have stolen a school bus in a crowded city, possibly St. Paul, in order to joy ride and make a point to an unknown group of people. While driving the bus, which I have no problem doing, I attempt to piss into a bottle and end up pissing all over myself. I am amazed that it is so easy to drive the bus while doing all of this.

I parallel park the bus on a busy street.


* * *

I am walking down the street with people that I have just met, but whom I have known for a while. They are famous in some way – either famous for real, or just people that I see around town a lot. They are the cool kids, and in a way I am excited to finally be hanging out with them. After galavanting down the street we end up back where they live, a commercial space with a loft. A man and a woman, he has long wild hair and beard and she is decked out in hippie-requisite flowy skirt, etc. I am up in the loft looking down to the ground floor where he is bringing stuff out and showing it to me. At one point I ask him, “You’re not one of these Devendra Banhart hippy types, are you?” I don’t remember his answer.

They are bringing out strange musical instruments which I want to try to play, but the girl is very protective and won’t even let me touch some of the things.

There is another person in the house who would like to leave, and I agree that I would like to go home, too. The hippies look offended, and I try to explain that it’s not because I don’t like them, but because I have things to do at home.


* * *

I arrive home to find the place in complete disarray. There is suddenly some kind of business being run out of my room, and Dawn’s things are all over the place. She is on the phone in the other room when I come in, conducting business loudly. Jimmy looks shocked to see me there and follows me into my room trying to explain. There are papers and envelopes stacked everywhere in my room. There is a piece of mail for me which contains a clockwatching.net catalog.

Bat Dream (11/7/05)

There were four bats. Three small black ones – soft, gentle, and flightless. More like pet mice, than bats. The fourth was much larger, and golden in color, with resemblance closer to a squirrel.

The cat came in and slowly devoured them. Tearing them up into bits. The black ones first, leaving them shredded like stuffed animals all over the floor. Then, finally, making its way to the golden bat, crunching its head between its teeth loudly.

The bats are helpless to stop this, having no flight and relying for all of their sustenance and care on humans. The humans watch, horrified, but do nothing to stop it.

September 9, 2005 – Girl with the underwear/Dog with a hole in it

I’m living in some kind of high rise apartment building. Sybille is around, visiting someone, on the periphery – it is apparent that she is just visiting. At some point I see her off a ways from the building talking to a girl. Later I run into the girl (Chrissy Goral) on the stairs and we hit it off. Later she ends up sleeping in my bed with me, in her underwear – but no overt sexual stuff. Just really intimate, sweet cuddling. Also, Robin is in the bed, curled up near the foot. I guess it’s a big bed. She’s there because she’s getting ready to go somewhere, and (?) I’m taking her there in the morning.

The next morning we all get up and the girl writes down her name on a piece of paper (it’s not Chrissy). Over the next several days I keep trying to make contact with her, but she seems to be avoiding me, in a really easy, playful manner.

Same setting: Sean knocks on my door, very urgent. “Dude, you need to open (the neigbor’s) door. New Jersey has a hole in him again.” I open the door and two big dogs come out. One has a fairly large wound. A big white dog with brown spots. Somehow they are Erin’s dogs.