Friday, December 20, 2013

Dream Journal Fifty-eight.


Dana was central to last night’s dream. The dream predominantly revolved about a house that she shared with several close acquaintances.

 

Prior to her appearance,however,the events that I recall, forming a refreshingly continuous chunk in toto, began with the appearance of a vagrant. The events predating his appearance were in the form of a Monkey Island game, and that quality persisted throughout the remainder of the dream.

A friend and I had agreed to help the man by sawing off both of his arms. He was starving, and he needed us to store the armsin a barrel overnight.If rats came and ate them, as he hoped they would, he would receive alms from the magistrate.

We sawed off his arms, although, later in the dream I would have sworn that I had no recollection of having done so. He disappeared into the night when the task was done, due to return to find whether or not the rats had accepted the offer.

The trash cans were outside the building wherein  Dana was staying.

 

Within, I met  Dana and her friends.

The  cozy apartment  had several rooms  spaced respectfully apart from one another, each shedding its own, some what  ‘dulled’, ‘opaque’ light,yet  suggesting  an enticing interior. Hers I never set foot in, though I caught glimpses of a bold array within of perhaps blue, mirroring her fortitude  of character,  lending the furniture its dignity and  a ‘ blocky green  colouring the walls. There was, within  one of the rooms,  an equanimous Lavender, yet it is hard to remember whether or not this had belonged to Dana.

Dana herself was very emotionally distant from me,appearing curt and formal,to my disappointment.

 

I had a newspaper with me wherein several of my poems about and addressed to Dana had been printed. I read them aloud to some of her peers at the dinner table, never divulging her identity as the intended recipient, though she would have realized the fact  had she not been in her room at the time they wereread.When she emerged, I was embarrassed but anxious for her to seeand hear them, yet almost to the point of tension that I was ‘frightened she would’. They went unnoticed, however, and she even showed a persistent lack of interest as Gwen Stefani appeared and volunteered to interpret them. By  the time Gwengot her hands  on the  newspaper, Dana had receded into her  chamber again.

 

Later on, I saw Dylan strumming an acoustic guitar outside a dim,dark corridor. He was standing just  between theentrance to thecorridor and the deep oakl door to a  lavatory.

I emerged tentatively and recognized the tune.It might have been ‘ First Day of My Life’, though it may have been by Built to Spill. I began to sing along. It was definitely ‘ First Day of My Life ‘.Almost definitely, and an excitement grips  me at the prospect. I felt very clearly childish in our noise-making,  however. When Dana emerged from the lavatory, she walked right by us, noticeably annoyed, and I was of half a mind to apologise,  were it  notthatthis would have appeared pathetic.

 

Eventually, word spread throughout the dorm of the  vagrant. He had become a  nuisance.  Some  of the residents found his arms,  wondering how they had been  sawed off.I hid my identity as the perpetrator, though I could not have told them How I had sawed them off, by what stretch of both moral and physical capacity, e ven  were I not intent upon  secrecy.

 

Regardless,  the pre dicament with the homeless man had  allowedme amoment with Dana,  in her bedroom.

She was concerned about the man’s ar ms and what to  do with them. This gave  me a feeble but  infinitely rewarding thing  to talk to  her about.

 

Obviously,the rats had never            dm.A.A.
                                     arrived.

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