dream journal
18 november
cripes. i just lost it. i had the dream in my memory and as soon as i
started to write, it left. sorry. i think i t was a good one
too. damn.
16 november
i'm being led on a guided tour of hell by the dark master formerly known
as prince -- who else? am i dead? i dont think so. i think it was just
sort of a recruitment tour. he was showing me that things were really not
so bad, so i should continue with my heathen ways. true, things were
not bad, but they werent very interesting either. hell was a large
office/school-type complex with lots of separate rooms (analogous to
dante's circles). but nothing (either torturous or fun) much was really
going on at all. it was pretty disappointing, but i was impressed by the
fact that they had prince.
10 november
i am visiting matt and robert's apt in chicago. as soon as i walk inside,
i know something is wrong. There are two large garbage bags on the floor,
blood seeping out of them and a shotgun lying nearby. a note taped to the
wall reveals that the boys had had some kind of suicide pact, shooting
themselves "with Steve's rifle." after my initial shock, i settle into
the business at hand. i found them so it is my responsibility to call
everyone who knew them and tell them all what happened. each phone call
is long, torturously morose and draining.
8 november
serial killer on the loose (this is getting to be a trend), rampaging
through the art museum building. there's some big fundraiser going in the
ballroom to be hosted by teh illustrious mr. martin short. mr. short is
nowhere to be found moments before the big event. "did he say where he
was going?" i ask someone in charge. "he said ihe was going to the
bathroom, but that was days ago," he responds. i venture out to find him,
but i already know what's happened. as i approach the bathroom, the
rancid smell confirms my worst fears. i creep in slowly, fearing for my
own life and find not only the badly magled body of martin short, but also
the remains of sarah marcus. her body is split neatly in half, the top
half in one stall and the bottom in another. i expecte dto see martin
short, but sarah's death is most unexpected and i reel out of the bathroom
dumbstruck. as i run up the stairs, i see asa, sarah's boyfriend, coming
down the stairs. he is totally oblivious to teh fate that has befallen
sarah. "hey veronica! what's up?" he says amiably. i burst into tears
and he suddenly just knows whats going on. he flies down the
stairs into the bathroom and i collapse on the stairs, sobbing.
4 november
walking down a plank toward the beach, there is a young man trying to get
young women to allow him to smell their armpits. everyone scatters,
appalled.
24 october
whoa! crazy ass upsetting dream about a supernatural serial killer with
the ability to inhabit unsuspecting human hosts to do its bidding. no
time to detail it now, but some highlight:
- transmission of evil through prosthetic limbs
- death by severed carotid artery
- evisceration of bumblebutte (and consequent reanimation)
- and much, much more!
7 october
eating *mass* amounts of food in dining commons, i mention to my fellow
diners that it's no surprise i gained 15 pounds my first year at reed (in
truth, i didn't). janeane garafalo is there and she mentions that she,
too, has recently gained a lot of weight. i suddenly notice that she's
enormous. "of course," she adds, "i am 6 months pregnant."
i try to imagine janeane as a mother and cannot
5 october
i'm visiting paris again and very happy to be there. vanessa meets me at
the airport and we almost immediately go to a lovely sidewalk cafe for
refreshment. i'm so pleased to be seeing her and to be in paris again,
but i suddenly realize what a financial nightmare this trip is making for
me. oh well. not much to do about it now. though i decide to put it out
of my mind, this money thought continues to plague me throughout the trip.
at the cafe, i remember that jonah and jacob were also planning a trip to
france together at this same time. perhaps this was something f a fcator
in my choosing this particular time? anyway, i decide to try to track
them down and whatdoy'know? they're at the very same cafe! i go up to
them to surprise them. they seem pleased to see me, but not too terribly
surprised. we arrange to meet some time in nebulous future.
i go to
vanessa's flat with her. it's a 7 storey walk up. about halfway up i
realize it's a *french* 7 storey, so it's even more floors than i'd
originally braced myself for. vanessa leaps of the stairs in great
energetic bounds. by the 3rd floor, i'm ready to pass out and my legs
feel like lead. i force myself up and collapse in the apartment. maybe i
won't leave teh aprtment so often on this trip.
vanessa leaves me to go
to work or something and i decide to try to track the boys down. i go
downstairs. there is a tres convenient metro station in the lobby, but i
realize i can't get on teh train. not only did i forget to exchange my
currency, i only have large bills, $20s and $50s.
1 october
more than i really remember... something about discovering that my
soulmate was this grungy homeless guy and i had to question my principles
as i resisted pursuing this relationship even though i knew we were meant
to be together.
26 september
staying at justin's apt, i had a paranoid dream that his roommates were
out to get me. we were all sitting watching tv and on the telly came a
commercial advertising their couch for sale. teh ad said that the couch
had been ruined by an unnamed house guest who'd slept on it and mussed it
up. i felt terrible.
22 september
no time to write in depth right now, but here are teh major components:
-a total liquidation sale at the film center. i pilfer and only claim
two
pairs of shoes and plaques with amusing little aphorisms and puns. jonah
shows up and i show him my new shoes.
-around this time i get a letter from my sister inviting me to come stay
with her in belize. apparently i consent since i'm suddenly in belize.
-we're driving down the belize highway (for some reason in the dream i
believe belize is an island) and i see all the store fronts -- they look
like kauai.
- i become obsessed w/ finding out what language they're speaking. its
sounds like spanish, except not. i wonder if it's portugese. "it's a new
language"
- get to the apartment. big confusing plot development involving robert,
matt, etal.
14 september
all i remember is that at some point someone gives me a what they identify
as the ultimate junk food treat. i unwrap it -- it's a stick of butter
rolled in granualted sugar with a brown sugar center. i am at first
repulse, then intrigued. i consider taking a bite, but really dont think
myself capable. i decide that it would be best sliced and mixed in with
cream of rice. yum.
12 september
so i've got this rash, see, and it wakes me up in teh middle of the night.
actually, most nights i've just been awake all night long alternately
scratching or trying not to scratch. more than you want to know, i'm
sure, but what are you doing reading this page if you weren't prepared to
see the ugliest side of me? anyway, last night i wake up suddenly and all
these dreams are in my head, they're crazy and i laugh to myself wondering
how my subconscious made this shit up. but it all slips away before i can
even find a pen. the only thing i remember is what i made myself say out
loud, "a 7 year old african boy named Acme." apparently there was some
kid(?) in my dream named Acme who was either very old, but looked 7 years
old, or was 7 years old and looked very old.
10 september
a really long, complex dream. it woke me up at 4 a.m. in terror; and if
it hadnt been for the sleep paralysis i would have written it all down
then. its a shame, too, because i know i've lost a lot of it. but here's
what i remember:
i'm looking over a newspaper with a friend, possibly justin. we're trying
to decide what movie to see, but it's odd since we're looking to rent a
video and we're looking at movie ads in the entertainment section. justin
points to an ad for a movie called "cued". its title is written in big,
silly gothy letter. justin says he's been wanting to see that movie for a
while and "look at that font!" he says. "i heard they designed it so that
the sequel title will look exactly the same." i imagine "cued 2" written
in teh same font and am amazed to relize that he is right; it would look
exactly the same. we agree to watch the film.
it is a low-budget, independent film in black and white. it's kind of a
exploitation horror/alien/slasher kind of thing, but arty. the first
scene opens in a classroom. the teenagers' teacher is telling them of an
evil presence in the world, but the kids don't listen. they make fun of
their crazy old teacher while he just shakes his head saying, "they'll
learn, they'll learn." one of the guys in the classroom looks strikingly
familiar. i identify him as "richard" apparently some guy i'd had a
relationship with "back in february". i try to remember what went wrong
and why we broke up, but i can't. i figure it must have just been apathy,
so i resolve to track him down and get back together with him.
as the classroom scene ends, our living room scene becomes both part of
and outside the movie. i hear a sound outside the apartment door. first
there are sounds of argument and struggle. then an inhuman, but almost
comical, howl and grunt. a short scream followed by nothing. heart
racing, i go out into the hall to investigate. the door of the aprtment
across teh hall (apparently where friends of mine live) is slightly ajar.
i push it open and walk inside. my friend is lying face down in a corner
of her bedroom motionless. i turn her over to see her face -- she's dead.
i reel out of the room. her roommate is home, but he's completely
preoccupied with whatever he's doing and obviously has not seen a thing.
i'm afraid that if i'm caught there i'll be accused of the murder. i walk
swiftly to the door, trying not to make any noise. as i open the door and
walk out , i see some kind of humanoid reptilian creature hiding under a
bookshelf in the hallway. i know this is what killed her, but the most
important thing to me right now is to get back to the safety of my
aprtment. so i hurry across the way and lock the door behind me. i
continue to look into the hallway from the peephole in the door. i see
the creature scurry out and feel a greta sense of relief that it is now
gone. suddenly, i realize that my finger prints are all over the other
apartment. i sneak back out of my apartment and start to clean my
fingerprints off the door knob when the roommate spots me. i try to play
it off. "hey! " i say "how's it going? just dropped by to say, but i
gotta go!" and i run back out the door and into my own apartment.
we resume watching the movie. the movie is pretty graphic and violent.
i'm not too interested in it, since i am a little distracted by the murder
across the hall, but i am determined to watch it through to the end so i
make sure that the actor is in fact "richard" as i'd identified him in the
opening scene.
i hear the police arrive across the hall. i look through te peephole
again and see that the roommate is now also dead. the cops come knock on
my door, but i dont answer. darcy comes home in tears. "i just got this
letter," she sobs. i open it. it's written by the monster, or someone
writing on his behalf. it lists the names of many of darcy's friends.
at the bottom the letter explains that as punishment for something i had
done (what, i don't know) all of darcy's friends would be killed. this
was supposed to force me to some kind of action, but i didnt know what. i
had a sense that i was to be framed for the murders, but i wasnt sure. i
tell darcy that i will find out what's going on and i leave the apartment
to do just that.
i walk down the street in what is ostensibly downtown portland, but looks
strikingly like university ave in berkeley. i am discussing the recents
traumas with some friends when i suddenly spot jeanne. she looks crazed,
maniacal, angry. i immediately understand what's going on. she is behind
this monster scheme. either she has been disguising herself as a monster
and killing people or she has trained the monster to kill at her behest.
i want to avoid a confrontation with her so i walk swiftly down the
street. as i walk i remember that "richard" works in thsi area and i
should spend more time here since i'd have a better chance of runninng
into him, though it is rather out of my way. as i am trying to remember
in which building richard works, jeanne catches up to me, spouting
invectives. i keep walking but she keeps pace with me. finally, i stop
and face her. "what do you want from me?" i cry. "why are you doing
this? what are you trying to accomplish?" she just grins. her
sudden silence is maddening. "are you trying to get me to take the blame
for this? will you stop if i do?" still no response. i consider briefly
what i've said. was i really willing to take the responsibility for
dozens of brutal murders? as much as i wanted the killings to end, this
did not seem feasible, especially since i wasn't even sure that would stop
her. "WHY DON'T YOU JUST KILL ME?" i scream. she laughs and runs off
down the street. as much as i dont want to spend the rest of my life in
jail, i also dont want to die. i hurry home, fearing for my life all teh
while. i get home and sneak in the back to avoid teh cops who have come
looking for me. inside my apartment i can hear the monster scratching
at the door. hurriedly, i put in the video tape. in part, i'd like to
see what's going to happen next in the movie since that will also be
whathappens next to me, but i also want still want to see the credits and
be certain that it really was richard in the movie. as i am watching the
television willing the film to go faster i hear the monster in another
apartment next door. i cannot ignore it any longer. i go outside to
confront it/stop it/kill it. i see the monster attacking my next door
neighbor. i grab her by the hand and we run into teh bathroom and lock
the door behind us. to our amazemnet, teh monster does not follow. i
peek out through a crack in the door. i see jeanne sitting in
the apartment living room watching us watching her on the TV. she is so
engrossed that she doesnt notice the monster coming up behind her. he
lays one hand on her shoulder and one over her throat. she doesn't
even flinch. i understand that he will now kill her and then die once his
master is dead. the killings will end there.
i woke up at this point, terrified, but relieved that the dream at least
resolved itself. when i fell back asleep the dream continued for a bit.
in the wake of the murders, i decided to re-embrace my catholic faith. i
resolved to start going to church again. i went to the church (which was
a small classroom in eliot hall) and entered the room. i felt awfully
awkward in there, not having been in church of my own volition for a very
long time. compounding my sense of out-of-placeness is the fact that the
sermon is on the recent events in my life an deveryone there is dealing
with the grief of these grisly mass murders. as i start to find a pew to
sit down, i see andy sitting in the back on a table by the back door. i
begin to smile and say hello but as soon as he sees me his face becomes
contorted with grief, hostility and disgust. he blames me for the deaths
of his friends. i take a seat, realizing that this silent resentment is
my true punishment.
9 september
i'm watching a movie about nazi concentration camps when i'm suddenly
inside the film as a character. my "mother" in the film, a stern looking
german frau, is suspected of being a spy for the allied powers. an angry
mob of nazis all wearing the identical atrociously loud plaid suit await
to administer some vigilante justice. I attempt to quell the mob with
some soap box grandstanding, but I fail. They descend upon her and what
happens to her after that is unknown to me.
1 september
i'm visiting matt and robert at their apartment in chicago. i am sleeping
on a cot in the living room, sharing some space with robert, but he keeps
running back to his bedroom. i think
there is some girl in there and i'm mildly jealous, but not overly. after
he's wandered away
again, i decide to go outside and explore the neighborhood. as i walk
outside i see a number of gangsta-types hanging out up the block. i try
to cross the street to avoid them, but one of tehm follows me. "hey you!"
he says menancingly, "gimme what you got." i hold out my hands and shake
my head, "i don't have anything."
"c'mon! you're holding out on
me," he pulls a knife, "hand it over."
i'm not carrying anything. so i lift my shirt slightly to show that my
pants have no pockets. "see? no pockets. i'm not even wearing any
fuckin' shoes, man!" it's only as i say this that i become aware of the
fact that i am indeed barefoot and walking on asphalt. it's a good thing,
though, because this impresses him enough to leave me alone.
i see qvimby's up the street and think visiting, but i'm too embarrassed
to go in barefoot. so instead i go into this goodwill nextdoor. vanessa
is there and before even saying hello she's showing me her latest finds. i
try on a skirt and a pair of pants -- very cute! but outrageously
expensive for second hand clothes. "chicago blows," i grumble.
27 august
darcy and i are at some kind of a conference in a large auditorium. at
the front of the room is a large screen television and a speaker.
handouts are going around the room. darcy and i share one. this is how i
learn that the topic of the conference is sex, specifically the
possibilities of geraitric sexual relations (i think this is just my
brain making fun of me). i look behind me to see the
other attendees and they're all quite old. there is a blue cast over most
of them, giving them a cartoonish look. the handout is a clinical, but
explicit, quiz presenting hypothetical questions which i'll not share
here. darcy and i laugh over the silly questions, but because we are
sitting in the front row, the speaker hears us and stops. she is
obviously perturbed that we young punks have disrupted her very serious
speech. so she announces that it's time for the panel discussion and
insists that we be on the panel. i'm terribly embarassed because i can't
even talk about sex in front of my friends let alone this room full of
angry old people. i trudge up on stage as i look for ways to escape.
24 august
a really disturbing dream about making a casserole for a dinner party out
of my own internal organs and excrement. i know, i know... more than you
wanted to know. but you'll be glad to know that i won't go into any
more detail than that. just think about the dreams i deem too
inappropriate to html-ize at all.
20 august
on the last day of testimony, after all the summations were complete, the
judge announced that we jurors would not in fact be deciding the case.
instead, the names of every person in the court room -- lawyers,
plaintiffs, defendants, lookers-on -- would be drawn at random and *those*
people would be responible for deciding the verdict. all the jurors
would deliberate at a table in the middle of the court room while
everyone watched. as the names were
called, i began to realize that things were going to be pretty slanted;
theywere all the names of the plaintiff's family. i and the judge were
the last names called. i knew we were in for long and stressful
deliberation.
18 august
this jury duty thing is getting to me. i dreamt last night that all the
jurors were asked to take the stand and explain -- cross examination
style -- why we delivered the
verdict we did. on my turn, my heart was racing as i
rounded the corner on the witness stand. i looked under the counter to
see what it is that people keep hitting when they pull their chairs
forward. the floor underneath the stand is uneven and in one spot, the
floor drops out completely. now i understand why it is that some many
people looked unsteady in their seats while testifying.
9 august
i am in my bedroom at mom's house. i've promised corky the lend of a
book, but things are such a mess, i can't find the appropriate book. in
fact, the only ones i can find are all the books i've pulled out to sell
or donate -- i.e., the ones i no longer want. they're terribly
embarrassing books -- mostly supermarket trash. i start to explain why
those books are most prominent, but corky cuts me off. "i know why
they're there," he says reassuringly. "i should really get these
organized," i sigh. i start to sort the books. "no, no," he says, "let's
get poison bob to do it." i look out the door and realize that my bedroom
is actually a part of the film center and our newest intern, "poison bob",
a scruffy looking, sketchy fella, is standing outside at the er desk. "he
needs something to do," corky offers. i concur, but i don't really want
him touching my belongings.
5 august
i'm standing outside of reading frenzy (which is now in berkeley on the
corner of dwight and shattuck). i'm going to buy several copies of the
salinger collection. i'm waiting for suzie who is supposed to meet me
here. some guy walks up to me and asks what i'm doing. i explain too
much-- including the whole salinger story from being to end. he is
intrigued and i'm bored. why did i go into such detail with him? now he
thinks i want to talk to him. thankfully, suzie arrives and we go inside.
i see someone working who i think at first is sean, but as we get closer i
realize it's not him at all, though they do resemble each other. this man
has some kind of thick euro accent and is rather difficult to understand
and communicate with. i try to explain that i want to buy the book --
winkwink -- and he keeps trying to direct me to the shelves. no, no --
nudgenudge -- the book -- knowwhatimean? finally he gets up and
goes into the backroom. as he pulls back the curtain i see a vast book
warehouse -- rf is the backbone of the underground press in the americas.
i am surprised and not surprised. i get my books -- three copies and
begin to pay for it when i realize i haven't any money. so i put it on
plastic.
3 august
a new kobos company store has opened on broadway and morrison, only a
block away from the old store. "that seems kinda pointless," i think to
myself, but that's not so surprising. i go in to see if i stil know
anyone working there. tom is there and he invites me behind to the
counter to get whatever i want. the bar is enormous. i pour myself a cup
of coffee and take two pastries from the case. one is a horribly greasy,
deep fried gallette of some kind. it looks lethal, but i eat it anyway
and it is delicious.
2 august
jonah shows up at my apartment unannounced. "are you ready to shoot
tonight? it's your turn." i had completely forgotten that i was supposed
to be directing for video party that night. i play it off casually,
saying, "oh yeah, i'm ready, no problem." after he leaves, i panic. i
only have about an hour or so to get ready so i scramble to get a camera
and otehr equipment. after making some calls, i remember that the more
importnat thing would be to get a *script* together. i wonder if i can
structure a sort of improv performance piece.
31 july
a giant shiny black spider crawls into my bag. it's clearly poisonous. i
try to sit on it to kill it, but then suddenly realize what a bad idea
that would be.
29 july
i am at a playground watching the children play. where i sit is partially
obscured from the children's view by a low fence so they don't really seem
to notice me. one by one the children leave the yard until there is just
one young girl left on the swings. suddenly, a man runs up to her and
snatches her off the swings. he means to kidnap and assault her, but i am
unable to react. frozen in place, i stare in horror as he runs off with
the girl. some friends happen upon me in my catatonic state. they ask me
what the matter is, but i cannot answer. they take me to a doctor. there
is a rusty, squeaking sound in the room and the doctor is tryingto figure
out what it is. he looks in my ear and when he does he can see the
kidnapping scene i witnessed. "that must have been very traumatic for
you. that squeaking sound is the sound of the empty swing. it represents
your sadness for this loss of innocence."
28 july
28 july
evryone -- and i mean everyone -- is talking about going to the henry fool
free screening on thursday. no one says hello or how are you as greeting,
but instead, "are you going?" we're all clutching our free passes like
our lives depended on them. the dream was preety much a recreation of the
real life scene at the Film Center yesterday when those passes first
showed up. this was also my first hal hartley related dream since that
awesome one about martin donovan last year.
26 july
swanky banquet dinner for folks involved in some kind of business or
social organization of which i am a part. apparently we had tried to have
this dinner the week before, but it fell through. but we had placed our
dinner orders last week. i ordered vegetable medley last week, but i am
now no longer in the mood for it. "can i order something else?" i ask and
the organizer of the even explodes. "absolutely not! you placed your
order so you should either eat it or not come at all!" with that attitude
i'd rather not come at all so i take a large piece of leftover spanikopita
and go to another part of the building.
i'm in kind of an airport lounge bar and surprisingly my dad is there.
i'm very pleased to see him. we sit and chat for awhile. he unexpectedly
jumps up and says, "it's alcohol time! can i get you something?"
confused, i stammer, "uh... no thanks. i don't drink." (note that my dad
rarely if ever drinks in real life)
he heads off to the bar and orders something huge and orange. meanwhile
some suave hipster sits down next to me and starts to chat me up. i start
to dig into my spanikopita in order to avoid talking to him. i take a
bite. it tastes kind of funny though not altogether unpleasant. pop sits
back down. "how's your spanikopita?" he asks.
"well, it's all right, but i don't really think it's spanikopta." i pull
back the top layer of phyllo dough to reveal the filling: raw, whole
leave of spinach piled high, sliced dill pickles, green onion stalks and
sauteed white onions.
the hipster looks over at my dinner. "you know, i know some spanikopita
chefs -- i used to be one myself -- and in fact i know the very people who
made your dinner here and i tell you they're a messed up bunch. the two
guys who made this, they're fulltime smack addicts. i know this because i
used to be an addict, too, but i've been clean for two years now and
--"
"that's good, son. i'm proud of you," pop interjects.
"thank you sir, i'm proud of myself, too. so anyway they dont care about
the art of the spanikopita, they only care about getting them out. look!
they didnt even cook the spinach!"
i'm really hungry and i no longer have any appetite for this thing so i
decide to swallow my pride and go to the banquet to score some food. when
i get there, most of the food is gone, but there's still some dregs.
everyone is in high spirits so i don't get any flack for flaking earlier.
i talk to someone in charge and she starts to ladle out a vast amount os
pasta salad ont a plate. "i think there are some hot dogs in there, but
you can pick them out." at this point i'm so hungry i don't really
care.
25 july
i slept long and hard tonight with no alarm clock to jolt me out of sleep
so i remember quite a few of my dreams from tonight. they are as
follows:
1.party in tirza's bedroom
several of us are lying on the bed lolling about and chatting -- just like
parties in real life. 80s era new wave music plays on the stereo. i'm
flipping through tirza's collection of duran duran stuff. someone says
"don't you think it's funny that the only new wave bands anyone remembers
are the american ones when the movement began in britain?" that's funny,
i think to myself, i can only remeber british new wavers and can't think
of a single american band. but i keep this to myself. "here -- let's
play this," i say as response. i pop a duranduran tape into a seemingly
solid silver box and sound begins. mike walks in and says, "you're all
just sitting on the bed listening to duran duran?!" i'm kind of
embarrassed that he's caught me in this comprimising position, but i just
say, "yup! we sure are! join us." he says he'll have to leave in a
half an hour. long enough, i think. we snuggle a bit in our skivvies,
but when i try to kiss him, he says, "no. aksie." meaning, i suppose,
his girlfriend. i'm disappointed but okay with it all. he gets up to go
and there are clothes strewn everywhere. i laugh, "if someone walked in
right now they'd get a really wrong impression of what was going on!"
he chuckled. "so will you meet me for a drink tomorrow night?"
"where?"
"have you ever been to the flaming lip?" i hadn't. "it's out in gresham,
but it's really good."
2. robert's last day
we go into bar, he orders two drinks. he seems very quiet and distant.
"look," i say, "this is your last day here. would you rather spend it
with me or..." he cuts me off. "spend it with you."
i smile. "let's
get out of here."
we go out to the car and as we're driving away a group of rowdy teenagers
run us off the road into a cul-de-sac. it's a very scenic inspiration
point kind of a place and as he pulls up the parking brake i say, "but
what if some angry farmer comes after us with a shotgun?"
3. chloe and coffee
at some huge outdoor gathering, there are so many people that i cannot
make it across the street to the coffee cart. there is a bus coming by at
that moment just barely making its way through the crowd. i decide to
leap aboard just to get out of the mess. chloe is there and we sit
together. "i just want a cup of coffee!" she sighs. "me too" i say. i
meant only to go one stop on the bus, but we now seem to be miles away
from the event. "we should get off the bus and find some coffee," i
suggest. "yeah," chloe says. "they might have some at that place," she
points to some fast food joint with a giant cartoon pigheadon the
side."
"uh... maybe..." i say, not too optimistically.
4. nan's apron
i am visiting lloyd center kobos and wander into the back room. hanging
on hooks are everyone's aprons with nametags. all except one of them are
the new burgundy aprons. the one old blue one has nan's nametag on it. i
figure she has refused to wear the crappy new aprons. but the apron is
filthy. in response to her rebellion, they are punishing her by not
cleaning the apron. "why doesnt nan just take it home and wash it?" i ask
no one in particular. "i would have thought she was too proud to wear
such a filthy thing.
24 july 1998
so i got all excited about resussitating the dream journal the other day,
but i had forgotten about one limiting factor : no dreams. or rather, no
dreams i remember. so instead, i'll throw in a few relatively recent ones
i do remember.
8 july 1998
as i am brushing my teeth in the bathroom, i look into the mirror and
notice that my two front teeth are completely black. my gums are receding
to the point that i'm afraid my teeth will not be able to hold. i can
plainly see the roots. i try
carefully flossing around the teeth, but i'm afraid i'm just going have to
have them pulled. i wonder how funny i'll look with no front teeth.
4 july
standing on a rocky ocean shore looking out over the horizon. wherever we
are, we've got to get away. there is land in the distance, a barely
visible strip just along the horizon. i estimate it at about six miles --
could i swim that? are there sharks in these waters? "what is that over
there?" i ask someone pointing at the distant land mass. "china. yen
ching province." (note that i don't actually know if that is a real
province in china or not, but it sounds good, doesn't it?) "what?!" i
exclaim, "we can't swim into communist china waters! we'll be shot down
miles from the shore!"
"well, what are we supposed to do then?" everyone was looking to me for
an answer.
"what we need is a boat."
30 june
i'm taking a vacation with several friends. "it'll be a blast!" they say.
"you'll never believe it!" we go into a highrise building in downtown
portland. "i thought you said we were going to another country!" i
protest. "oh but we are!" they laugh. we get off the elevator on the top
floor. it is a vast, empty warehouse with a central room and several
smaller rooms just off of it. a hefty, serious looking man in a
wifebeater and shorts sits at a table directly in front of the elevator.
"welcome to the people's republic of newport," he grunts, "name?" we sign
in and he checks our passports and issues us official visas for our stay.
we are shown to our rooms and given a basic tour of the "country". i
wonder fi this is all legal to declare independence in the middle of a
major metropolitan area, but he seems harmless enough. the other tourists
gather for a meal at day's end. everyone is flush with the excitement of
being the very first people to set foot in a new country. i need a
toothbrush and the president of newport points me in the direction of the
"general store." "it's full of things you need," he says. the "general
store" is a table full of sundry small items. paper clips, chewing gum,
hard candy, toothpaste, coffee stir sticks (no coffee), ketchup packets.
it's all free, included in the price of the room. i take some stir sticks
for later, just in case.