Pegging

Two dreams of darting instigation: Back to my old days of competitive nordic skiing in high school, we were on another trip into Canada, sleeping in a rented farm house. Five or six of us were sprawled on the floor in sleeping bags. One young man started in hysterics - something had poked him, but none of us were near him. Something poked him again and he leaped away from the corner. The rest of us, in investigative spirit, tossed pennies to the corner. The naught spirit slapped the pennies away, bouncing back from seemingly empty air like a rambunctious kitten knocking things off shelves.

I was sleeping in a motel, hiding away from an enemy of sorts, I knew he was trying to snipe me. The goal was to lie low, with the blinds closed - only in this shoddy motel slabs of the blinds were missing, leaving open shafts of transparency. This did not please me, and in notifying the front desk, they apologized and offered no other room as they had a bit of a "mini blind" problem. As predicted, my enemy began to snipe at me. I clung to the floor, gripping the rug as though my claw of a hand were engaged in a desperate bear hug. The sniper entered the room, but to my lucky advantage, the television set had been jury rigged by a kindred spirit from a similar predicament to act as a flame thrower. I utilized this in a rush of resourcefulness and blazed my foe to a black crisp of skeletal residue.

Dream Log 10.21.09

Abode Becomes Ice Boat

I have always been intrigued by how components of dreams can shift shape and setting and how we roll with the series of alterations with nonchalance. I was hosting a large party at my house. Streams of guests and old colleagues arrived on the long plank of side walk through the courtyard and entered my abode. It was heavily attended by former coworkers and had the appearance of being a company party! A good friend, Adam, and I took descent into the basement below my apartment for a quick talk while the guests above got settled in and mixed their drinks. When we ascended, the stairs connecting my back door with the lower level was now on the edge of a wooden ship. Beyond us was a black sea, calm, icy, and snow fell as think sheet.

I am also amazed that I did not have a dream with this-man. I learned about this yesterday, finding it almost creepy. I'll admit it made me slightly apprehensive for sleep, as though I'd be entering a realm where I am most vulnerable to the weird presence of an ambiguous fellow. And so I thought about Nightmare on Elm Street. Find out more about "this man" at Thisman.org and see if you have dreamed him prior. I thought for sure just thinking about the possibilities of him being in dreams would bring him out it my dreams last night. However for now I have avoided him.

Dream Log 10.16.09

Sea Nots and Flapping!

Teetering indebted, stringing into the system of borrowing invisible monies, that will not only chase you - haunt you and convince you subtly to choke yourself. You try to build a bigger boat upon it, with it, but we all know salt does not skim over the seas but slips deep into it. I'm throwing away "nots" in the guise of salts, letting the sea grip it and keep it. And I'm doing this because I'm giving into my own delusions of grandeur, un stopping the flow and embracin naivety in my own veins, puffing wind into my pipe dream. Because I firmly believe that it can take sail and skim along smoothly, charging against the waves. The delusions can benefit man by inducing cloudy enough thoughts to make him cough on talking about it and finally take that risk, to actually breath it. I wish to make my business in stories. Stories to hook you into the stimulation of tale that welcomes you deeper into your own forgotten imagination. The drug dealer and I have much in common: dealing a form of escape. I will strive to fill American bedstands with copies of my books, dog eared and battered, evidence they served as bedtime stories and may dance in your mind as new mythologies. If you tell me that there are many who do not make a livelihood dealing stories, I will retort that many have and do. Look at your fellow on the train, engrossed in a book, missing his stop! And then tell me that America is not ready to be intoxicated with a new and wicked tale. If you wish to continue to fight on the side of nots, you can join those nots as they are gripped by the sea! And I will turn my attention to the little vessel, rocking gently and flapping my sails so the next given puff can let it boast its shape and cut apart the nots that still yelp as white caps on waves that still wish to work against me. But the vessel of mine is gaining momentum and will sail where it pleases, to any port I can find: where I can unload to the hungry imagination. And I will enjoy every second in the process of flapping the empty, yet open and crisp sails. In the end all I can control is the flap, and my enjoyment of the flap. I cannot control the wind. But I rest assured and capitalize on the fact that as long as the Earth maintains an atmosphere, the wind will come around. The vast ocean I am enbarking on causes me to tremble, but it does not hinder the exhilaration when even a small gust incites the glide of my ship and the collection of these small victories steady and quench the tremble.

Coming Up for Air

I stepped out for a sun shine break and the light hurt my eyes intensely. In a cave of occupation I realized this is how my brain sometimes felt. Where the occupation seeps so far into your consciousness and is somehow linked into every thought. And to escape into another realm, say creative pursuits, it is almost shocking. Clouded and pursued by a mechanical distraction, a rewiring of my brain, I realize it is time for me to take a step back and rewire my brain the way I would like it to function on a more relaxed and creatively charged plane, diving into new concepts plucked from simple experience and opening the channels into the deeper realms of my subconscious where stories linger and are ready to be told. I had a good moment today, feeling naturally a conversationalist, enjoying creative interaction, and the art of goofing around without forcing anything.

Detective Farms

I was working as a detective and was called to investigate the murder of an alien on the site of a quarantined alien bunker. I sneaked in through the metal gate with my partner and pulled out the body from an empty wharehouse. The bunker was out amidst some farm lands, it had begun to rain and our plane had somehow filled with water, so we were unable to fly out of there. We had to walk through farmland through tree groves back to civilization. We came across an antique house with modern wings built upon it, with fountains lit from within, a yellow orange flavor of flame. Here the elderly resided in leisure. We joined them for tea.

I jumped out of an airplane, felt the sudden "oh fuck what am I doing." Had a cheapy parachute made from a back pack but didn't use it, landed safely on the ground after I persevered the feeling of falling through fog, no awareness of the ground approaching but suddenly my feet were planted. I've had many of these types of dreams before, skydiving without a parachute, a sudden leap from the plane to the ground as the quickest route down. Perfect landing on my two feet.

In this dream I was living on Grand and wilton, took the subway home and got off at the grand blue line but was somehow way way west of the city. I began walking a little bit more west, unknowingly, disoriented, and came upon the expanse of a cemetary. I turned back around, by this time it was pitch dark and snowing. I came across two of my former professors but only had time for a quick hello in passing. A trashy looking woman, young woman, probably in her teens, said "hey want to get a hotel room." She was missing her front teeth and I was quick to tell her to "get the fuck away." But it turns she was the sister of a friend who immediately came upon us. We cleared up the misunderstanding as she was "just joking." We went back to their house and had hot cocao and watched the snowfall and a halloween parade pass by their front bay windows. We soon joined the parade and I found two coins made from alluminum in my front jacket pocket, large coins. Somehow these resounded with great significance, as though I had gone full circle on journey, and a twinge of deja vu reverberated in my heart to tell me I could have missed out on all of this adventure had I found these earlier but felt satisfied that I hadn't.

All of my family came in town, including aunts, uncles and cousins. We went out for beer and ice cream. I had finished one brown ale, ordered another, took one sip, then went to releave myself. When I returned my family was gathering outside the door, ready to return home, my full beer had been cleared and drained. I was highly disappointed. We played a family tournament of Mario Kart after the ice cream and beer.

At my old home in Maine, the house I grew up in from 10-19 years of age, we were shooting a Wood Sugars short film. Eliaz Rodriguez was setting up his camera angles on my back deck, which had been removed from the house and re located across the lawn in a wooded patch. Two rabid black possoms began encircling Eliaz, stranded on the porch. I hustled inside the house to attempt to retrieve a bb gun, my mom found one in the garage. We shot the beasts. I do not remember ever owning a bb gun as a kid in that house. Yet conveniently one was placed with in the memory of my childhood home to aid me in that particular predicament within this dream scenario.

Dream Log 09.05.09

Dreamy of odd Beachy

My gal and I settled into a swell country cottage and tested out the sparking flames of the stove and were pleased with the smooth transition of clicking to roasting burn from beneath. A sunny hill ran up to a nestling of trees beyond our back yard. A charming afternoon. The evening walk turned wicked as we rounded a weeping willow and discovered metallic men patrolling with creepy grins and steel guns as arms, a literal extension of the word sometimes used to describe weaponry, replacing a limb as a sole function. Storms a brewed and wind devastated trees, we got the hell out of dodge and made our way to an exansive beach in the open distance. We knew it would not shield us from the wind but could rely on the fact that we'd get out and away from the trees which looked as though they were about to snap and thrash. Upon reaching the beach, the sound of roaring waves could hardly drown out the sound and site of a million jack rabbits doing the deed at high speed to one another. Second jack rabbit dream in less than a year.

Dream Log 8.24.09

I have a live reading booked for September 23rd at 7pm for Whiskey Pike: A Bedtime Story for the Drinking Mankind. At Quimbys Bookstore (1854 W. North Avenue). Chicago, IL. Complimentary whiskey shot (for all attendees 21+) in a toast to kick off the reading. Bring your friends and get your bedtime story fix. Free event.

Blue Survey

The underwater display of an exhibit in its intricacy had a profound draw. The museum decided to erect Atlantis, the lost forgotten city, enchanting the guests from abroad by the blue sea glow and seaming expanse of this dwelling claiming to have used original archeological evidence to devise blue prints. A photo op was set up at the entry, which arced as a tunnell down to the city at the depths. Families stood in front of a green screen, and later saw themselves in front of the grand scape on a printed photo. Inside the plaza of the city, waterfalls adorned the walls surrounding kiosks of merchandise. Boards splayed the photos of the people from their entry. A great distance covered the span from the capture of images to the selling point. The easiest route of transportation within the great tank was by riding a small whale to and from. If a problem arose at the selling point and I was at the other end, I could glide from the upper surface to the airlocked pool, where I could park my blue whale, dry off quickly in an intensive blast of air, and rush to get a-fixing.

After a day of this I went to eat at a buffet in yellow and dusty field, picnic tables spanned in a straight line, and the sky took on the green of tornados looming. I was first in line to fill a plate at this rationed fair. Red barbeque chicken was the first to slap my plate.

Work Dream 8.18.09