Archive for the ‘SORRY TO TELL YOU A DREAM’ Category

HOLOCAUST DREAM

January 7, 2011

My friend MH had a Holocaust dream in which I had a cameo.  She makes sure all her gchats are off the record, so I forced her to retell me the story so I could capture her voice. 

 MH:  ah ok
So basically
first I was packing up a lot of stuff
and trying to throw away stuff
and there was a major sense of anxiety and limit on time
then, it was like omg the nazi are coming
gun shots, trucks etc

and then we were trying to hide in a closet
but i couldn’t fit in the spot
so then u were like – oh i can fit in here
and then u took my hiding spot
then i woke up!

Yo, Dream Me is a BITCH!

Some Dream Snippets, As Of Late

October 22, 2010

Two cameos…

From HW:

I’ve been dying to tell you about this ridiculous dream I had about us last week:
I was in the worst possible mood known to man (why? according to the dream I wasn’t sure) so I ran away to your apartment building- mostly because you were there, but also because you had a Barnes&Noble mini-store on one of the floors and it was only open to residents of the building and their guests. I found you there and poured my heart out to you. I wish I knew what was bothering me so much because for some reason you were the only person I was able / wanted to talk / cry to (Thanks!). Anyway, while in the book store you started asking the others dwellers (AKA your neighbors – remember the store was only open to those that live in the building) if there’s a B&N in Israel…and I’m thinking, “Hello, I’m right here!!! Israel is my turf…book stores in Israel are 100% my turf!!! Why the hell are you asking everyone other then me? That whole scenario passed and you proceeded to show me some pictures of yours that were being displayed throughout the room. On our way out of the store and to the elevators we spot a whole bunch of my friends coming up the hall looking for me and I start throwing a tantrum and absolutely freaking out that I don’t want them to be there. Like I said, I only wanted to talk to you. Some how we manage to make an escape to my car up, but it’s late and you don’t want me to drive alone so you make a neighbors of yours follow me home on his/her (one of those dreams where the person starts out male and then suddenly transforms into a chick) bike. Turns out he/she is a convicted pedophile and he/she begins chasing me wildly… and then I woke up to my damn alarm.

From KM:

Oh, and I have a dream that you were in last night!  I was writing a letter or something and you were helping me with the wording.  You made some poetic comparison, something to do with a raven and a waterfall and everyone loved it.  Don’t worry, I didn’t cop it as my own.  I told everyone you came up with it and the response was usually, “Oooh, that makes sense.” 

Two from Me:

Two nights ago:

I was in something that looked like a school (straight hallway, low ceilings, cement floors, a few doors off each side leading to little rooms.)  For some reason I knew what would be in the last room, so I walked down the hall and entered very quietly.  In the room were a number of Orthodox women sitting on chairs and one semi-old rabbi.  The women were all somewhat portly, wearing black and had their hair covered with black scarves.  The space felt tight. The rabbi was allegedly (I say “allegedly” because I didn’t really hear what he was saying, I knew I went to the room for this reason) giving a talk to these women, who were all holding small prayer books (Torahs?  Idk.)  The atmosphere was casual and happy.  I was appropriately dressed but my hair was not covered.  I grabbed a book and opened and tried to clandestinely put a scarf around my hair.  After a few minutes of sitting and listening to the banter, I eked out, afraid I would be caught.
As I was walking down the bustling hallway, I heard a woman yell out that someone had stolen a book, it belonged to Mrs. So-and-so, and that they usually save their prayer books to give to their first born daughters (or maybe just daughters.)  I kept walking thinking maybe I’d just scoot away but I stopped in my tracks, turned around and started sobbing in the hallway.  I said, “I have it!” and this woman (not wearing a head scarf, btw, with ash-blond hair) walked up to me.  I was still crying as I told her that I was so sorry, I was just curious and I didn’t know what to do, I was so sorry, etc.  Basically babbling incoherently.  And she looked at me so warmly and said, “Don’t worry, it’s okay.  I understand.  If you have any questions you can always ask me.”  And I gave her back her book. 

Last night:

Clotted blood coming out of my mouth, but when I went to show someone, it was gone.

Last Night

October 3, 2010

A beauty mark drawn on by an eyeliner pencil way up on my left cheekbone, a friend’s tall, slim, Scandinavian girlfriend who has forgotten me, a glamorous, bustling, seventies-style event, something annual, a group and celebration I vaguely remember once feeling a part of but distinctly do not now.

Snippets of This Week’s Dreams

September 16, 2010

Some of these things may have happened in real life…

French fries and grilled cheeses, eschewing grilled cheese for caloric reasons?  (Which seems ridiculous… I mean, if dream me is going to eat the french fries, might as well eat the grilled cheese!  At least it has some redeeming nutritional value.)

Commercial with a song from Jesus Christ Superstar in it.  Someone asked, “Name this movie!”  I answered correctly.  (Real me has since added to Netflix queue.)

Ordering porn and running a marathon on an abandoned highway

Planning a trip down South, to Savannah, hopefully…

SORRY TO TELL YOU A DREAM

August 22, 2010

This is going to be a new category!  Thank you, Annie Dillard, for this title!

Everyone loves talking about/thinking about their dreams (there’s a whole industry) but no one really likes hearing about them.  So, seeing as I don’t think anyone reads my blog (and if you do and don’t care to hear about my dreams, then fucking SKIP THIS ENTRY!) I’ll just post ’em up here when they bug me out a little.  See also: my burqa dream from eight months ago or so.

Last night:

I married my boyfriend’s friend, who himself is engaged.  He gave me a ring that looks like a cheap-o version of the one I currently wear and never take off, and I felt a little chagrined by the lack of originality on his part.

Completely and horrendously broke, I found some machine that gave me sixty-six dollars when I inserted my passport into it, and once the ones were finished being spit out of the slot, the live Indian woman inside shook her head at me, “No.”

I decided to reorganize my sundries drawer, which was full of tiny little buttons, jewelry boxes, and socks.

Finally, for a split second I was an alter-self, a Manson girl, contemplating how to leave the cult without getting killed.  I succeeded by fleeing to a Starbucks in the rain.