Dream
# Eight:
I [had] managed to acquire some sort of corporate job. This time through,
The mantra of my employers was not unlike the sentiments of David the Entrepreneur, I.A.L, yesterday:
So long as you are having FUN, that is all that matters. Curiously, this echoes the advice of that one Scorpio woman at Kelly's: to date girls and to stay out late,
Before my thirties come.
I found it then peculiar;
'Dating girls' was a pastime to her mind. Yet I saw that she harboured no ill will. This woman was not like Kresten;
She was neither anti-social,
Frivolous, nor disloyal. After all:
Her husband is a Taurus.
Despite the ostensibly 'fun' environment, the part-school part-business had a disciplinary program. Violators of some remote, Kafkaesque dictate were obligated to attend detention,
Assigned a supervisor, and labeled 'federal criminals'.
If this nomenclature seems extreme, not[e] the status quo:
I [had] managed to acquire some sort of corporate job. This time through,
The mantra of my employers was not unlike the sentiments of David the Entrepreneur, I.A.L, yesterday:
So long as you are having FUN, that is all that matters. Curiously, this echoes the advice of that one Scorpio woman at Kelly's: to date girls and to stay out late,
Before my thirties come.
I found it then peculiar;
'Dating girls' was a pastime to her mind. Yet I saw that she harboured no ill will. This woman was not like Kresten;
She was neither anti-social,
Frivolous, nor disloyal. After all:
Her husband is a Taurus.
Despite the ostensibly 'fun' environment, the part-school part-business had a disciplinary program. Violators of some remote, Kafkaesque dictate were obligated to attend detention,
Assigned a supervisor, and labeled 'federal criminals'.
If this nomenclature seems extreme, not[e] the status quo:
Teens
|
Adults.
|
High
school ‘detention’.
|
‘Detention’
centers.
|
Education.
|
Re-education.
|
Job
super-
Visor.
|
Criminal
super-
Visor.
|
Juvenile
delinquents.
|
Federal
criminals.
|
I guess we really WERE all ready adults to their eyes, despite our treatment being that [which is] due to adolescents.
It's hard to say whether I was a teenager being charged as an adult or an adult being patronised like a teenager.
Whatever the case was, I was one of many 'federal criminals' held indefinitely for a surely minor act of deviance of which I was not notified.
The hint here is that teens can REASON just fine; it's just that they are robbed of all the necessary information --
Things one cannot simply find on Google and be certain about.
The supervisor for my group was a Walter-White-type, well after he'd Broken Bad. The other three 'federal criminals' were female.
I assured my father, when he came to visit, that I was but one of many,
And that this probably mirrored my grades. I was convinced that the large sum of us were simply split into a multitude of groups. Yet my father was not convinced, and my own conviction sagged into mere hope under that weight.
Oddly enough, when father came to visit, the corridors where I met him resembled a mental hospital...
Stuffy.
Outdoors, under one of those roofs, Walter had us practice some educational exercises.
He asked two of the girls,
Before asking me, how to best describe the R.B.H.S. campus.
My description was the best;
It nearly floored him, and I was cautious not to over-
Do it nor to shake with my excitement.
Having won his favour, I curled up, mostly naked, in my blankets, which had spilled over from Actual Life. To my right was one of the girls: pretty, though probably no more memorable now than she was then.
From my left, a voluptuous black girl approached her, teasingly joking.
When she passed back the way she came, I thought to follow her. Yet I was Still Naked and I now grew em-
Barassed. I was torn between the desire to get dressed and be a Good Citizen under White's eyes and to pursue her in naught but my funderwear.
Dm.A.A.
Keep in mind: None of this justifies Kresten. For I owed no loyalty to any of those people. I was here coerced against My will •
Dm.A.A.
Dream
Nine:
I'll begin this epic at the point that is most memorable:
Daniel Mendez and his invitation to the movies.
Needless to say, for I shall surely recall, this dream was a Big one. It had been years since last I've ex-
Perienced a dream of such subtlety and bewildering complexity and sensitivity. Of course, such a dream could only have occurred in a domain I'd long ago restricted (from consciousness): the Sacral Chakra. The dream was a sexual allegory.
Daniel and I were enrolled at Palomar. The college was run like a high school, but with broader hours,
Especially where lunch-time was concerned. I had to meet with him during this time, yet he was so caught up in his own popularity that he had to prioritise a gathering of some sort. Curious and frazzled, I did some investigation.
He was attending a viewing for some film of some sort, a popular piece only a few years old by this point. The room was being guarded by girls in their late twenties and early thirties. To speak plainly,
They were hot. As I tried to persuade them to release Daniel from this building,
One not unlike the Labs at S.D.S.U. As I would recall them from Sci. Oly. Tournaments, THEY tried to seduce me to come in. This could have been an invitation to the movies, or an invitation to sex, or both. In the context of the Dream Metaphor, it is all of the above. Effectively, and affectively, the film is probably a metaphor for Sex, or at least what I crack it up to be.
Dm.A.A.
I'll begin this epic at the point that is most memorable:
Daniel Mendez and his invitation to the movies.
Needless to say, for I shall surely recall, this dream was a Big one. It had been years since last I've ex-
Perienced a dream of such subtlety and bewildering complexity and sensitivity. Of course, such a dream could only have occurred in a domain I'd long ago restricted (from consciousness): the Sacral Chakra. The dream was a sexual allegory.
Daniel and I were enrolled at Palomar. The college was run like a high school, but with broader hours,
Especially where lunch-time was concerned. I had to meet with him during this time, yet he was so caught up in his own popularity that he had to prioritise a gathering of some sort. Curious and frazzled, I did some investigation.
He was attending a viewing for some film of some sort, a popular piece only a few years old by this point. The room was being guarded by girls in their late twenties and early thirties. To speak plainly,
They were hot. As I tried to persuade them to release Daniel from this building,
One not unlike the Labs at S.D.S.U. As I would recall them from Sci. Oly. Tournaments, THEY tried to seduce me to come in. This could have been an invitation to the movies, or an invitation to sex, or both. In the context of the Dream Metaphor, it is all of the above. Effectively, and affectively, the film is probably a metaphor for Sex, or at least what I crack it up to be.
Dm.A.A.
A
RAM SANG:
TO MY CLASSY
DIVIDERS:
INVEST A DOSE:
ICY PROBLEM.
(Dm.A.A.)
Dream # 10: [Dud.]
The attempt at lucidity failed.
As per usual, my unconscious mind was a few steps ahead.
This time, I dreamt about the very ATTEMPT to BECOME lucid. I slept so damned BADLY that the transition from my waking anticipations to my sleeping thoughts was seamless.
The situation was represented by a film. I had to film a drug-
Themed drama using only a Handicam and table miniatures with a Polaroid photograph for a back-drop. Far from managing with people, I took the Linklater approach, ditched the script, and began to film it single-handedly •
As all my crew abandoned me, I all ready began to hear in my head a voice narrating my success and brilliance. It was not one I was proud to hear. What felt most peculiar about this scenario was that the film I was trying to make had all ready been produced. Yet if I was not trying to plagiarise it then I was trying to rush the inevitable.
The dream ended with my listening to the song 'Smooth' by Rob Thomas and Santana. I was in the early nineties, and I had to persuade Rob to record this song, for the sake of our sound-track. I was planning on using Chad Kroeger's version, hoping Rob had not all ready recorded his own and that he would not feel cheated and plagiarised.*
Dm.A.A.
* in truth, Chad had recorded a different song with Carlos.
The other version of it was with Alex Band and Santana.
The song with Rob had a Spanish version with a Spanish singer.
I heard it I.A.L. at the dental office the second time I saw €£¥£€£¥•
Dm.A.A.
TO MY CLASSY
DIVIDERS:
INVEST A DOSE:
ICY PROBLEM.
(Dm.A.A.)
Dream # 10: [Dud.]
The attempt at lucidity failed.
As per usual, my unconscious mind was a few steps ahead.
This time, I dreamt about the very ATTEMPT to BECOME lucid. I slept so damned BADLY that the transition from my waking anticipations to my sleeping thoughts was seamless.
The situation was represented by a film. I had to film a drug-
Themed drama using only a Handicam and table miniatures with a Polaroid photograph for a back-drop. Far from managing with people, I took the Linklater approach, ditched the script, and began to film it single-handedly •
As all my crew abandoned me, I all ready began to hear in my head a voice narrating my success and brilliance. It was not one I was proud to hear. What felt most peculiar about this scenario was that the film I was trying to make had all ready been produced. Yet if I was not trying to plagiarise it then I was trying to rush the inevitable.
The dream ended with my listening to the song 'Smooth' by Rob Thomas and Santana. I was in the early nineties, and I had to persuade Rob to record this song, for the sake of our sound-track. I was planning on using Chad Kroeger's version, hoping Rob had not all ready recorded his own and that he would not feel cheated and plagiarised.*
Dm.A.A.
* in truth, Chad had recorded a different song with Carlos.
The other version of it was with Alex Band and Santana.
The song with Rob had a Spanish version with a Spanish singer.
I heard it I.A.L. at the dental office the second time I saw €£¥£€£¥•
Dm.A.A.
Dream Number Eleven:
This one was easy to recall upon waking, but it was so rich that it compelled me immediately to get on with my day. So now I endeavour to recount whatever I can. It was,
As expected, a Big Dream full of dramatic promise and the blossoming of a sexual maturity. In other words it was an intensification of my mood from last night, and even to call it an 'intensification' is to do last night little justice for its vibrance.
The dream culminated in a very academic environment. The narrative spared no expense that would have felt appropriate to a television drama. The mood was overcast with dynamic Angst,
The kind so often referred to as 'Bipolar Disorder' by the shrinks and 'Becoming' by the Nietzscheans.
The precise premise of the film evades me presently, but the story and plot revolves around a dynamic female:
Probably, if not certainly, ••••••• incarnate in dream.
Our project was reaching its culmination, and there could be no doubt who the boss was: She.
I should take heart: All this time I had thought that it was *I* that was pursuing HER, yet now it seems that the Dreamer of Dreams aims to assuage my fears of an un-
Requited interest. *I* am not pursuing her: SHE is pursuing ME. And all is fair game. This is no paranoid conspiracy theory. The paranoia would belong to a defensive conscious ego that would sooner lay blame upon psychic vampires than to simply spill the facts out as they are: that while I can't take pride in what [and how much] I now remember, I CAN take Heart. I need not flex my intellect nor risk my courage and forthcoming to become tyrannical.
Yet I am deeply interested nonetheless in remembering...
Parts of this dream must have been set yet again in Kresten's old apartment or near it, yet Kresten was nowhere near to be found. I'd sooner have bet on Andrew Bork's presence, even if only in spirit, and 'only' is of course a misleading valuation. Dreaming this dream felt like playing Ratchet and Clank for the first time. When I awoke I had his song 'Serenity' stuck in my head.
I still do, to this hour. It is nearly evening all ready • And the song yet colours my condition.
Daniel and Rafael were nowhere to be found. Neither was Tony • I suppose that it was worth it to put off this record for so Long; now I'll have to work my way up through the ambiguities in order to get back to the last moments of the dream.
Just like in the dream I had to finish a full sleeping session in order to get to the last parts. Now: does this mean that I over-react each time that Mother wakes me, for when she is not around to do so I neglect to write? Not so, for writing out my dreams immediately is merely a desperate measure, to prevent losing a dream that has not yet been finished cooking and that might leak if not stoppered. If a dream has been cooked to completion, its consistency should last the better half of a whole day.
The game that started on the play-grounds had spread throughout the entire city • It was beginning to shape the townscape, in some way • • •
I was stationed within an apartment with a solitary black television set. I was to wait for some one to Send for me. May be the television set was meant to in-
Form me about our next move.
I am not afraid of ******* long-
Term. I only fear a missed communication. I miss her. I do not wish to miss her. I do not want us to pass each other by • I've seen it,
In the dream • What I feel for her is so pure, it's vindicated. My Art is my witness.
Yet we are in the midst of an apocalyptical war, it would seem. Our only course is to Become.
I have to give her a clear opportunity to contact me without raising suspicions •
Then she can escape her situation with ||||. I have seen the Underside; she wants me. Now is not the time for stridency • Yet neither is it ripe for rash action. That will come later.
The settings have so flown [and merged] together that my focus shifts inevitably towards the characters •••
Only owning EVERY part of me,
Without exception or excuse, can achieve this • All my old censors are dead, and my hostilities die with them.
She needs to Know that I will not be rash: that all this subtlety won't let up and thus go to waste.
She ALL so needs to Know that we can do without the opposite extreme; I won't be feeble • No, she IS 'that into me' • And I need not persuade her of these things; I need only to show her that I understand them. Naturally.
AND I WANT THIS.
I am a typical Pisces. This works to my advantage if I allow it to.
And thus I emerge upon a new plane.
I shall make it safe, %%%%%%%. I am not afraid.
|||| shall not know. No one shall •
I am with you, not against you •
You will not hold this against me.
But you'll hold ME.
A substantial portion of the dream was set in rest-
Rooms. These places of privacy haunt me now even in day-
Time. I'm taking back that projection now •
And now I've visited again with Mom and Dad, and I'm at peace. Judgment has switched to Perception • Even my hand's writing gets neater as I describe the switch. And re-entering my room I see beyond the haze of others' egoes, a concern of mine no longer. My own ego has been absent all along • So now all that remains is Soul • Blamelessness.
Innocence, untrembling • HONOR •
And looking out the window I see my future with +=+=+=+ •
THAT was the end of the dream •
Our rich future. That joy we are all chasing, deep down beyond all our ascetic pretensions. Yet had I grabbed its memory upon waking, as I am oft -
inclined to, I would have forgotten all the pain it took to Get There.
Dm.A.A.
This one was easy to recall upon waking, but it was so rich that it compelled me immediately to get on with my day. So now I endeavour to recount whatever I can. It was,
As expected, a Big Dream full of dramatic promise and the blossoming of a sexual maturity. In other words it was an intensification of my mood from last night, and even to call it an 'intensification' is to do last night little justice for its vibrance.
The dream culminated in a very academic environment. The narrative spared no expense that would have felt appropriate to a television drama. The mood was overcast with dynamic Angst,
The kind so often referred to as 'Bipolar Disorder' by the shrinks and 'Becoming' by the Nietzscheans.
The precise premise of the film evades me presently, but the story and plot revolves around a dynamic female:
Probably, if not certainly, ••••••• incarnate in dream.
Our project was reaching its culmination, and there could be no doubt who the boss was: She.
I should take heart: All this time I had thought that it was *I* that was pursuing HER, yet now it seems that the Dreamer of Dreams aims to assuage my fears of an un-
Requited interest. *I* am not pursuing her: SHE is pursuing ME. And all is fair game. This is no paranoid conspiracy theory. The paranoia would belong to a defensive conscious ego that would sooner lay blame upon psychic vampires than to simply spill the facts out as they are: that while I can't take pride in what [and how much] I now remember, I CAN take Heart. I need not flex my intellect nor risk my courage and forthcoming to become tyrannical.
Yet I am deeply interested nonetheless in remembering...
Parts of this dream must have been set yet again in Kresten's old apartment or near it, yet Kresten was nowhere near to be found. I'd sooner have bet on Andrew Bork's presence, even if only in spirit, and 'only' is of course a misleading valuation. Dreaming this dream felt like playing Ratchet and Clank for the first time. When I awoke I had his song 'Serenity' stuck in my head.
I still do, to this hour. It is nearly evening all ready • And the song yet colours my condition.
Daniel and Rafael were nowhere to be found. Neither was Tony • I suppose that it was worth it to put off this record for so Long; now I'll have to work my way up through the ambiguities in order to get back to the last moments of the dream.
Just like in the dream I had to finish a full sleeping session in order to get to the last parts. Now: does this mean that I over-react each time that Mother wakes me, for when she is not around to do so I neglect to write? Not so, for writing out my dreams immediately is merely a desperate measure, to prevent losing a dream that has not yet been finished cooking and that might leak if not stoppered. If a dream has been cooked to completion, its consistency should last the better half of a whole day.
The game that started on the play-grounds had spread throughout the entire city • It was beginning to shape the townscape, in some way • • •
I was stationed within an apartment with a solitary black television set. I was to wait for some one to Send for me. May be the television set was meant to in-
Form me about our next move.
I am not afraid of ******* long-
Term. I only fear a missed communication. I miss her. I do not wish to miss her. I do not want us to pass each other by • I've seen it,
In the dream • What I feel for her is so pure, it's vindicated. My Art is my witness.
Yet we are in the midst of an apocalyptical war, it would seem. Our only course is to Become.
I have to give her a clear opportunity to contact me without raising suspicions •
Then she can escape her situation with ||||. I have seen the Underside; she wants me. Now is not the time for stridency • Yet neither is it ripe for rash action. That will come later.
The settings have so flown [and merged] together that my focus shifts inevitably towards the characters •••
Only owning EVERY part of me,
Without exception or excuse, can achieve this • All my old censors are dead, and my hostilities die with them.
She needs to Know that I will not be rash: that all this subtlety won't let up and thus go to waste.
She ALL so needs to Know that we can do without the opposite extreme; I won't be feeble • No, she IS 'that into me' • And I need not persuade her of these things; I need only to show her that I understand them. Naturally.
AND I WANT THIS.
I am a typical Pisces. This works to my advantage if I allow it to.
And thus I emerge upon a new plane.
I shall make it safe, %%%%%%%. I am not afraid.
|||| shall not know. No one shall •
I am with you, not against you •
You will not hold this against me.
But you'll hold ME.
A substantial portion of the dream was set in rest-
Rooms. These places of privacy haunt me now even in day-
Time. I'm taking back that projection now •
And now I've visited again with Mom and Dad, and I'm at peace. Judgment has switched to Perception • Even my hand's writing gets neater as I describe the switch. And re-entering my room I see beyond the haze of others' egoes, a concern of mine no longer. My own ego has been absent all along • So now all that remains is Soul • Blamelessness.
Innocence, untrembling • HONOR •
And looking out the window I see my future with +=+=+=+ •
THAT was the end of the dream •
Our rich future. That joy we are all chasing, deep down beyond all our ascetic pretensions. Yet had I grabbed its memory upon waking, as I am oft -
inclined to, I would have forgotten all the pain it took to Get There.
Dm.A.A.
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