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Dream Journal

Strobble Noople-Poopin

Alexx Sanchez is in my dream somewhere, I remember thinking ” wow I it’s been so long. I don’t know if I’ve even dreamed about her”. I’m sure I have, but no earlier than a few decades ago, she’s someone I last knew in high school.

Sharing a sizeable horde of money w Angelica. We have to hide the burner phone after it’s brought up by third party friend, suspicious someone had taken the money, who doesn’t realize we have and are keeping the secret. We need to erase their memory… problem is such a technology doesn’t exist. do we just disappear on them and pretend?

A water dispenser on a top cabinet leaks. While I’m up there, I grab a plastic diner-style coffee pot — my dad (or someone related to me somehow) throws it away because don’t want those hot microplastics in his body.

From atop a structure, I spot a beautiful baby tapir in shades of blue and pink wander into our camp. Gorgeous creature. I remember too late to try and get a photo and it’s a little too far away. I get one distant photo and a bit of shaky video. I go to prepare a grain snack for the critter. But the grain shelf has a forgotten jar of prepared oatmeal which is now a science experiment. I forgot to eat it. Best left alone perhaps.

The Title: was just a lot of fun, some phrase definitely within yet assuredly unlocated within the night’s stories.

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Dream Journal

Prepping to Present an Upside-Down Australia Story

I’m preparing to give a talk presenting a story of mine from when I visited Australia. Adding a surprise twist even the organizers aren’t expecting by giving it standing on my hands. The story itself dates from 2006 — a period of heightened right-wing bullshit during the Iraq war, the Abu Graib prison scandal (I was, incidentally, in Australia at this time). The story is basically that I’m in a cafe and ask for eggs upside-down. This plays off a familiar meme with a highway warning sign, “WARNING: Australia”, which is humorously upside down… land down under, and all that. Or at least this is the story I make up to tell. The actual events involve me fussing with my website and asking the cafe runner about a location on the web design she made. Later on I’ll reflect that the whole thing reminds me of the Odd Salon matter last summer.

As it’s getting late in the afternoon today, I wander across a near empty school playground. I reflexively think that it’s too hot out, but upon reflection I realize it’s actually perfect outside. Under a tall metal play structure I begin collecting a pile of my stuff left there, but under that I uncover a pile of stolen Australian props — street signs and peeled-off tarmac crosswalks — which would clearly be useful for my upcoming performance. I don’t remember putting them there, and it does feel as though I’m being framed. Perhaps instead I’ve actually gaslit myself by simply not remembering. Very, very difficult to say…

Categories
Dream Journal

Tiny European Country

Visiting one of the tiniest countries in Europe, GaiMiTn or something. It’s an unusual place for people to take a vacation as there’s not much there, but I’m content — resolved that it will be special for me. I roll downhill along a suburban road, houses on one side. The border is a few streets away. It feels novel, knowing so few have been here. When I traipse through some mud, I know most people will never have the dirt of this country on their skin. I envision a brief walkthrough of a primeval European forest, foliage I’ve never been near before, but which strikes me as immediately familiar, archetypal. The plants my ancestors survived by knowing well.