An old-timey cruise ship, looks like the Titanic, tilt-y coming out of port.
A thin cliffside gorge, zig-zagging along back-and-forth paths.
A bomb in old ceramic dish, beeping much too loud.
My old crush’s birthday. That’s all.
Paul Addis is hosting SNL. He has a lot of comedy chops, but it’s still a rough show.
Exploring the far west side of Palm Springs, near where I grew up, huddled around the side of the mountain, a building from the 1700s — something similar to the 16th century fort of Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, Florida.
Drums professor is teaching in my childhood bedroom on Kemper court. He helps repair a pair of Lynae’s drums. I pick up a bongo and the bottom immediately cracks right off.
A little round jug or goblet for Henry rat, full of special flavored milk. So good I keep finding a little brown rat — or a little black and grey rat? — or other Henry-pattern-like rats squatting in it. I don’t realize it at the time, but it sounds a lot like our rat Spork.
Renting a custom-made house in Alaska. The deal is that even though it was built just for me but if I return the keys within a week it’s free. I invite all sorts of guests and I’m a little surprised they actually show up. Dara, Autumn, others. It’s summer and I never done anything like this, the novelty is refreshing.
As I’m leaving one of the bunker-like buildings in town, I see a folded wad of cash wrapped on the outside with a $2 bill. I shrug, very much expecting I’m being watched and recorded for some TV. It feels very new for me to simply decide not to take it, but I’m feeling like that’s the point.
I take a bus there and back to return the keys, and along the way play a video game. Called “Jonsi’s Hole”, mostly black and red text, but the it seems the money items don’t save properly. I’m really enjoying the bus trip and remember thinking that I’m oddly suited to it. Perhaps also that I wouldn’t feel that way if I did it all the time.
Watching a snake, Circe, crawl up a sloping street along the midline. Crossing its path and allowing it to pass, watching it speedily make its way up the hill, it’s body moving so powerfully it looks like parts of its curves are little legs.
The new prime minister of the United Kingdom travels to the place where St Patrick chose to be sacrificed. He has his long hair ritualistically cut off within a sloping rock ring named something like “Kilmarnock”.
Nearby, I’m living in a curiously-designed apartment complex recently converted from a well-loved local Mexican restaurant. The playful chili pepper mascot signs and statues still can be found around the building, including the end of my living room/yard. I erect a splendidly clear goldfish tank near to my neighbors window. The aquarium overflows into a plexiglass water channel that flows between apartments. I catch the neighbors cat fishing out the goldfish, from their upstairs window which overlooks my space. They’re very friendly with introductions, so it’s hard to be mad — plus I put the goldfish, like, right there.
There are body segments of preserved large animals scattered around the apartment complex, in the lobby, the halls, an effective avantgarde decoration and anatomical curiosity. I’d rather tired today and nearly step on a few. Bizarrely homely for such an unusual and futuristic contemporary space.
I follow my friend Lauren through a digital portal in a different area of my apartment, and we watch together a strange reenactment of my past. My other friend, Mickey, is checking out the powdered weed bin I’ve saved for years (its appearance is similar to kratom). Unfortunately, I don’t warn him early enough that it can’t be eaten straight — he starts coughing, the powder having the same effect as the cinnamon challenge.
Concluding, and distinct from the rest of the dream, is a final shootout in a darkened room. Most of us in that rooms die, including members of Run The Jewels.