Month: April 2020

Categories
Dream Journal

Prison in the Deep Hills

Tegan, teenage girl I meet who wants relationship but we have to split up for a bit. In saying goodbye I pronounce her name as Reagan, then Regan, then Teagan. As I’m lying on floor, she does ridiculous poses with her torso distorted, making her junk look ridiculous too, and I ask and take a photo up near her crotch. Somehow this proves (and is meant to prove) she does really like me. A worthwhile souvenir, and an image strong enough to survive the whole night’s dreams.

Falsely imprisoned in a remote location, somewhere in the occupied Tibetan mountains. Sewing a pattern of beads into what passes for camouflage. Discovering a former prisoner has left instructions to a map crafted into a hillside, showing a multi-day escape route. Guards suggesting everything was washed out in a flood. Gathering together small colored objects of various shapes for some prisoner display, I instead arrange them in a replica of a map to the map.

A road passes outside the prison. Against the roadside slope, I secretly bury a colonized tray of mushroom starter under a garden bed. It looks like the same beaded camouflage. Passing by on the curvy mountain road are automated robotic garbage cans, cows with their directions pre-programmed. I cling to the underside of one briefly before it skids off-road, not having been programmed for added weight.

Close by in the mountains is the Akrokorinth, much closer than expected. Perhaps 27 meters. It’s a walled funeral arena.

Categories
Dream Journal

The Landlord-Hidden Stairs

Our apartment has the same landlord, but is in a 5-10 story skyscraper in New York. There is a set of convenient stairs which the landlord has blocked off. I make my way through a public elevator to three rooftop garden mall, which the landlord also owns. On a path near the edge of the roof, I see strings of Christmas lights left unhung on the ground. I manage to sneak into my own hone by going down a disused private elevator behind the shucking station of a Chinese restaurant there. It’s a charming hand-hewn wood space that reminds me of a spice rack, and it looks like the old lady next door has one just like it. Perhaps that’s why he blocked it off, he couldn’t separate the two and couldn’t bring it up to code as a communal space.

A different dream possibly. On our outside stairway, the landlord has taken all the plants. He’s told my wife (who assures me he said he’ll bring them back) but I still complain that he gets to take them for an entire spring season.

I’m reading a book in class, might be reading on my phone. Walk from the front of the classroom to the back. A small cloud of vapor escapes the precession of students, but I’m not sure if it came from my mouth or the older black student in front of me. Girls practicing basketball in the gym, studying collisions by crashing their bodies mid-throw. I meet a childhood friend, Robby T., as an adult finally. I ask if he even goes by Robby anymore and tell him of my new name. He tells me he was taken out of school at some point. I walk away for a minute and my backpack’s missing. I find it quickly, intuiting that the Robby of now would hide it, as was a prank we might play on each other in school, but wouldn’t hide it far as that would be funnier for me to fail searching for it.