Dream Journal #4
Mood: 4th chakra, shadow.
I dreamt that I met Aisha in a terminal of sorts. Playing my
cards right, and we began to date. I began to imagine what people on facebook
would think when they saw ‘Aisha is in a relationship’ come up, and how Dennis
would give it away to Usman by her saying to Dennis, ‘you don’t even to talk to
him anyway’, as I walked through a public restroom, searching for a stall.
Aisha was seated in one of the stalls and she began to sit on my lap, as I
withheld defecation out of courtesy. I pondered whether or not we would ever
have a child, admitting (to myself) that I did not feel guilty about the
prospect of sex with her.
Later, we were in bed with a laminated pamphlet of some sort
that listed a series of sex moves on one side and oral sex moves on the other,
and in the lefthand column of the chart, beside a series of symbols that must
have occupied the middle column, there was a list of spiritual phrases for what
each move was meant to accomplish.
I did not surmise what I was looking at until I saw
something to the effect of ‘mouth work’ or ‘mouth love’ as the title for the
backside.
At one point, in one of the locked chambers to of the
restroom, either before or after this scene (probably after) I felt as though I
were about to be attacked by two young, grinning hoodlums who wanted to enter
the chamber as well, but then saw that I was in there. Perhaps they
represented, at once, both the pair that are Debbie and Jean, who walked in on
me in the employee restroom chamber one time(the only day I recall Jean
apologising for a mistake), and that of Andrew and Kresten, my new bandmates,
whom I had felt ‘attacked’ by when they merely wanted either a place in my
life* or just a place for theirs.
*feels more comforting, if it may appear childish.
2. Towards the end of the dream, it
was nightfall at the foot of the slope at the top of which CVS overlooks the
beginning of Paseo Lucido. Washed in the amber light of the lamp in of the
parking lot, darkly contrasting the deep, nebulous blue sky in a manner akin to
the looming, impersonal gentleness (though not, in this case, the hauntingness,
which was absent)of Jak II, a mood like the pacification of drunkenness from
beer*-- I constructed, from wooden planks, a small playhouse that was also a
jungle gym. A friend of mine, either a cameo by or an homage to Cameron (Bahl?)
the Raver and Drummer, approached from the CVS side, commending my vision with
a skater’s unmitigated sense of camaraderie, ready to help. At a loss for what
to do, precisely identical to my realisation in making life that Kresten and
Andrew did not requiore my creative control in order for a band to grow, I
chose simply to slide down the wooden slide onto the concrete sidewalk,
prompting a characteristic chuckle from Cameron but no sense of rapture from
me.
*The dream was markedly less Inspired and Ecstatic than my
waking life, so I hope that I do its blandness justice here.
3. The remainder of the dream was spent wandering about in
the hungover dark, thinking to write a punk rock song along the lines of ‘Fuck
America with all its laws…’, simply because I could not stage a play and have
one of the last songs be a cover of ‘On My Own’ from ‘Les Miserables’, by
virtue of licensing laws for theatrical productions.
4. When I arrived outside of the apartment that my parents
and I were staying in, one akin entrance to Kresten’s condominium except that
it was tucked into a corner as though it were on of the apartments in Bernardo
Point that I had never paid visit to, I was flying about, literally, waiting,
upon ringing the doorbell, in mid-air, suspecended bouncingly be repeatedly
kicking off each wall, as though I were back in our apartment in Baltimore,
delighting mother and father one night by climbing up the
white, lamplit ceiling of the kitchen by climbing up the inside
of the doorway.
Two sides of the entrance to the kitchen as though I could
touch the white lamps on the ceiling were it not that I would fall.
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