Dream:
I dreamt that I was at the airport; an airport anyhow, and I was in line at customs waiting to be cleared for a flight to Tehran, Iran. I was excited about this because I really wanted to soak in 3000 years of historical possibility and also to eat that rice dish where the rice is all mixed with herbs and then it’s hard and crusty on the top and you eat it with yogurt sauce…what’s that called?
Anyhow there I was in line, waiting, and I got into a kind of lengthy debate with the guard behind the desk who was in charge of allowing people into Iran. The desk was a square desk and people could mill around three sides of it while the guard turned to face them in his swivel chair. From here, the guard inspected my papers and declared that they were all wrong or something. I just don’t see the necessary documents here and I can’t allow you into the country. You can’t come in unless you tell me where you’re staying. I told him I was staying with a could of girlfriends of mine, but he didn’t buy it (even though it was true, according to the dream). I wanted to tell him I’d been to Iran before but then I realised that the stamps I had to prove it were in my old passport and this was my new passport. Damnit.
So, in the end, he denied me my trip. There were all kinds of people behind me clambering to get to the desk and they were trying to shove me aside. One particular fellow pushed me hard to one side and when I refused to budge it turned into a thing. We were standing leg to leg with our legs touching because neither of us wanted to give ground. He wanted to find out about his flight and I wanted to get back and argue with the guard (who was now denying someone else a flight). Eventually the fellow who shoved me and I came to exchanging hard words with each other.
At this point the line up was forgotten and this fellow, a little taller than I, with short brown hair and a kind of scrunched up boyish face that you just know hadn’t changed since he was a kid; at this point this fellow and I began to shove each other around. I hit his neck with the inside crook of my elbow and at the same time kicked his heels out and he fell to the ground and we went to the ground with I putting a couple of punches on his face as we landed. He didn’t like that at all and we rolled around a little and scuffled.
Then, suddenly not wanting to fight anymore over stupidity, I got up and said goodbye and left the building. And at a distance, still wanting to fight over stupidity, he got up and followed me.
Outdoors in this place was pretty spectacular. The atmosphere reminded me of a place like Hope BC and the mouth of the Frazer canyon, with cool rain spattered cliffs rich with vegetation rising up into white capped mountains and through it all ran a concrete road. I walked some distance down this road with the guy following me. Then, in order to lose him I turned into a park or sorts and picked my way through the trees.
The park seemed semi-wild to me, with unkempt bushes and no particular path to follow. I made my way for what must have been ten minutes through the scrub and the trees, always looking back to see if I was being followed, but it seemed I was not. Finally I came to a little clearing and decided to wait there.
Just as I came to rest, though, I saw a gang of guys coming up the hill toward me. They were all dressed like you might expect a bunch of dudes in a 1970s Kung Fu movie to be dressed, with tight jeans and scruffy looking t-shirts with that particular 1970s cut and occasionally big sunglasses. They were all Chinese, too; they were the gang of the guy I met at the airport (although he was white, not Chinese, but we do live in a multicultural world now-a-days…although this could change with jet fuel prices being what they are). I turned around and there was the guy himself, coming at me from the other direction, down the hill, and in a few moments I was surrounded.
At first I thought I was going to take a group beating; and indeed this was their intention. I made the point however, that this was between me and their leader. I made this point emphatically and eventually swayed them, but it took time. Then a large circle formed and he and I got ready to duke it out. I remember that I carefully put down the backpack I had and then took my wallet keys out of my pocket, removed my shoes and socks (I think I must have been thinking of Dune, where it is always better to fight barefoot), put my wallet and keys in my shoe, removed my glasses, and then got ready to fight. As I walked across the grass toward my enemy I noticed a lot of dog shit in the grass. I hope I don’t step in all that fucking dog shit while I’m fighting, I thought to myself.
Porlock:
The cat jumped up onto the bed and began to meow and head butt me on the arm. He likes to get attention at a particular hour of the day…especially Sundays at 10:00am when I wake up with a roaring hangover. Also, when I woke my left arm and hand were slightly asleep, so I turned over and faced the other way.
Conclusion:
I tried to sleep again, but I could not. The cat stayed and cuddled with me, resting his head on my tingly forearm. I wondered vaguely who would win the fight, but knew that it’s almost impossible to catch a dream that has escaped, fluttering up through my fingers into the bright daylight and then disappearing into the sun.
July 20, 2008
July 19, 2008
dream 1: fake snow
Dream:
What a funny dream I had. I dreamed that I was walking through a cityscape much like Montreal (for there were the same kinds of alleyways behind houses and the same kind of low buildings packed tightly through the downtown core and there was the same lack of vegetation; grass or trees, that is such a hallmark of this city’s downtown) and, even though it was the summer time, I kept seeing these large crested snow banks piled up against buildings. How curious, I thought, that there would be snow there, but when I went to touch it I realised that it was not snow but Styrofoam that had been moulded into the shape of snow.
I turned down a street that had this treatment and saw that there were men with large hoses spraying the walls of the buildings with the white foam and the foam was filling the air with a thick dense mist as I walked past. I ran my hand along a freshly covered wall and the foam came off and stuck to my hand. It was dry and it left a rough texture on my palms. In order to protect myself from the spray, which I seems to believe was toxic, I pulled my shirt up over my nose and mouth as I passed through he cloud. I noticed a lot of the workers had masks, but not all were wearing them.
There was one guy in a black t-shirt right at the entrance to the beach (like I said this wasn’t exactly Montreal) and he was spraying with a hose high in the air and his gas mask was pulled down and hanging loose around his neck.
The beach was curious. There was a long rolling field full of dry grass that reached down to the sea. On the beach (and I seemed not surprised by this in the dream) there was a series of protesters demonstrating against the spraying project. The gas is toxic, their oddly rectangular and upright signs seemed to say. These oddly oblong signs were somehow Japanese seeming to me.
Past the protesters as a crowd of right wingers who were going on about how much they hated protests. One man, standing on a boardwalk, elevated slightly above where I was walking, was in fact a failed candidate for the US presidency. He was giving a speech about how easy it was to make left wingers go absolutely nuts by saying completely offensive things to them about anti-abortion rights and petroleum drilling and so on and so forth.
Porlock:
I was awakened by a call from the husband of some woman who had been writing me on Craigslist asking to buy my laptop. She was supposed to arrive today. I’d like a correction, he told me, you changed your ad from saying that it was a Compaq C700 to just a 700, so which model is it? It’s a 700, I told him. Oh…well…I don’t think we’ll be interested in that one, he told me. Mr. fucking responsibility he was. You could just tell that this couple were a pair of assheads anyhow because they had a shared e-mail address. Trust me, anytime you get an e-mail that is from both Jim-Bob and Wendy Fuckface at the same time you know that there are either serious control issues in their marriage or they are the kind of people who wear matching K-Ways when they go shopping at Wall-Mart and either way I’m glad they didn’t buy my laptop. But fuck, now I gotta list the ad again!
Conclusion:
It could be worse, I guess. Two nights ago I dreamed that you called me and told me that you had made love to a Mall Santa you met at the mall. I was happy for you because you had really wanted to do it and it made you happy. I know in real life you can do much better than mall Santas, but in my dream you fucked one anyhow.
What a funny dream I had. I dreamed that I was walking through a cityscape much like Montreal (for there were the same kinds of alleyways behind houses and the same kind of low buildings packed tightly through the downtown core and there was the same lack of vegetation; grass or trees, that is such a hallmark of this city’s downtown) and, even though it was the summer time, I kept seeing these large crested snow banks piled up against buildings. How curious, I thought, that there would be snow there, but when I went to touch it I realised that it was not snow but Styrofoam that had been moulded into the shape of snow.
I turned down a street that had this treatment and saw that there were men with large hoses spraying the walls of the buildings with the white foam and the foam was filling the air with a thick dense mist as I walked past. I ran my hand along a freshly covered wall and the foam came off and stuck to my hand. It was dry and it left a rough texture on my palms. In order to protect myself from the spray, which I seems to believe was toxic, I pulled my shirt up over my nose and mouth as I passed through he cloud. I noticed a lot of the workers had masks, but not all were wearing them.
There was one guy in a black t-shirt right at the entrance to the beach (like I said this wasn’t exactly Montreal) and he was spraying with a hose high in the air and his gas mask was pulled down and hanging loose around his neck.
The beach was curious. There was a long rolling field full of dry grass that reached down to the sea. On the beach (and I seemed not surprised by this in the dream) there was a series of protesters demonstrating against the spraying project. The gas is toxic, their oddly rectangular and upright signs seemed to say. These oddly oblong signs were somehow Japanese seeming to me.
Past the protesters as a crowd of right wingers who were going on about how much they hated protests. One man, standing on a boardwalk, elevated slightly above where I was walking, was in fact a failed candidate for the US presidency. He was giving a speech about how easy it was to make left wingers go absolutely nuts by saying completely offensive things to them about anti-abortion rights and petroleum drilling and so on and so forth.
Porlock:
I was awakened by a call from the husband of some woman who had been writing me on Craigslist asking to buy my laptop. She was supposed to arrive today. I’d like a correction, he told me, you changed your ad from saying that it was a Compaq C700 to just a 700, so which model is it? It’s a 700, I told him. Oh…well…I don’t think we’ll be interested in that one, he told me. Mr. fucking responsibility he was. You could just tell that this couple were a pair of assheads anyhow because they had a shared e-mail address. Trust me, anytime you get an e-mail that is from both Jim-Bob and Wendy Fuckface at the same time you know that there are either serious control issues in their marriage or they are the kind of people who wear matching K-Ways when they go shopping at Wall-Mart and either way I’m glad they didn’t buy my laptop. But fuck, now I gotta list the ad again!
Conclusion:
It could be worse, I guess. Two nights ago I dreamed that you called me and told me that you had made love to a Mall Santa you met at the mall. I was happy for you because you had really wanted to do it and it made you happy. I know in real life you can do much better than mall Santas, but in my dream you fucked one anyhow.
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