Month: March 2018

Categories
Dream Journal

Being Nice to Grumpy Mom

I’m absorbed reading a math book in my old bedroom of my childhood home (the smaller front bedroom). My family has stored three picnic benches in there, and I’m sitting at the middle one, quite unbothered by the crowded room.

In the family room, I’m chewed out by my mom for not installing some speaker wires yet. Yet I’m being super nice in response. There’s a masked person standing nearby us; reminded me of Boba Fett. While organizing books in front of the bookcase immediately after this, I spank my Mom’s butt. She’s grumpy again, I manage to be positive and kind despite her mood.

There’s a book I acquired, but didn’t read and forgot about at the near end, with vintage-looking chapters on The Quantum Ape, and also Doubts (with a real-seeming pic of the Queen of England surrounded by stacked beer bottles).

Categories
Dream Journal

Parking the Chicken Bus, Like I’m Bonafide

Accepted back into the Chicken community somehow. I help park the big RV/bus even though with its large overhang and narrow windows it should’ve been difficult. I leave it out of park as there’s some finesse Chicken is very finicky about. Next to the driver’s seat is a compartment of fuel tanks that look like molded glass, the long fuel lines permitting the driver to switch them out mid-journey. I’ve seen everyone but Chicken, who finally appears, and I anticipate a quiet, amicably awkward minute… I grab the top half of a crocodile skull to just, you know, casually hold while we sit there. I wake up right then and it’s still half an hour till I have to move the car.

Categories
Dream Journal

Bed Rides, Reverse Dine-n-Ditch, Floating Telepathy, City Hall

Riding an oversized bunk bed with a few acquaintances and a cute (but nervous & skeptical) toddler. At the top of a stairway, we all slide down, holding onto the bed railings and play-screaming.

Leaving a low-ceilinged semi-outdoor restaurant without paying… I instead end up across the street and pay the tab that belonged to Mickey and his friends. I pay more, meddling with social order, and the action is both self-evidently ethical and appealingly subversive.

Walking down the median of a busy street in a caftan and sandals, an ethnically Mideastern young kid hops out of his dad’s car to say hi and ask me about myself. I realize it’s because he’s excited to finally see someone else who dresses like his family. I turn the corner and pass a Walmart where I overhear someone flub the word ‘teleport’ — I telepathically correct them as they huff past the painted white brick walls.

Sort of flying, sort of floating. I go very high up, above City Hall, which is cavernous and lavishly renovated, with expansive enclosed spaces of exposed wooden beams. The roof is more utilitarian, simple tarpaper with a steel rod decorated with religious iconography. Peering over the side, I can see it’s twice as tall as Grace Cathedral nearby. Perhaps it has the air of Seattle.