I come out of the bathroom, and a hummingbird follows me out, perching on my shoulder.
$36 shoes. Comes with an abuse form filled out during a factory inspection.
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Category: Dream Journal
I scoot over to the abandoned old Thai Temple brunch on south Valencia st. I learn the story of the five bear-men who were executed by hanging there, huge brutish men all murderers by the dozens. Their ghosts/projections give chase when I speed away on my black scooter.
To get out of this compound part of San Francisco, I need to walk through a Thai restaurant. It’s the third day in a row I’ve been there, but I don’t eat this time so I sneak past the staff, avoiding eye contact –like I’m just around there.
I locate my dad’s overgrown pickup in his workshop, new-ish but already rusted on the inside doorframe, and plants growing through the hard rubber hood. He has an active project he’s working on under lights nearby, but there’s sawdust everywhere. I consider whether I can clean it up.
At my kitchen table, the fish are swimming outside of the aquarium. Classic dream image for me. One fish bullies another into synchronizing their movements, which is entrancing to watch. From out of the aquarium, I lift out a curved plastic support to help a baby turtle out of it — a tiny little miracle which gradually coalesced from particles shed by the fish.
While I’m flying surveying a wide cul-de-sac, I watch as a rabid giraffe stampedes across driveways, a dilophosaurus one of its victims. Like a whole zoo went awry.
In another dream, I am introduced to a tousled black-haired baby, and lay my head on it. The longer I lay there, the stronger I feel the familiar feeling of a psychic link — the same feeling you get looking into directly into someone’s eyes. I pull back suddenly, startled by how strong this feeling is.
A run-down store from the 1980s specializing in spy gear, somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, in a nearly abandoned strip mall, just off a highway. Used to be so big it had registers all along the front, from one end of the store to the other. Now things have gotten so cheap that their music repeats on a loop 35 minutes long. Format of its name is “person-name-here’s”, if that’s understandable.
An older woman expresses interest in telling me her story (or my story?) by means of an inflatable outdoor big screen. The story randomly has Spider-Man pop in at different points, much like a pop-up ad.
A fancy gravity-altering gun (perhaps of my own design) shoots shiny super-stylish double-conical bombs. It remotely manipulates its aerial position, then detonates it on command. This seems impressive in the 3D jungle style game I’m inside. I gravimetrically pull in a cyborg that looks like Vendata/Venturian from Venture Bros and he sustains “severe anomaly damage” when I explode it on him.
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Peculiar University Housing
Moving into a shared dorm apartment. They seem unprepared when I move in. Mickey is there, his brother Zach. It’s an underlit bachelor pad with tile floors and bare walls. There’s a small, wraparound sideyard of slatted wood, which opens to wooden benches in the sloping, grassy backyard. A pond filled with lively, tropical rings of algae and moss, craggy decorative rocks, and looks like a living volcanic pool. I get acquainted with a large snail that lives there.
There’s a portal in one of the rocks which emanates concentric rings, and staring into it I can see the world linked beyond, where my snail friend is from. Quite out-of pace, in retrospect.
I ride my scooter on a wide expanse of asphalt, eventually noticing there are dips and holes spaced in an even grid. Some are deep, deep pits. I inform the school administration about the deep ones on our property, which they seem perfunctorily apologetic and give me an extension.
I then sit down to watch an assignment for one of my university classes with my wife Lynae. The program auto-loads an episode of The Cosby Show, which I am categorically uninterested in ever since Cosby’s rape allegations. I skip it and instead manage to find an episode of Deep Space 9 in the course database, which of course I’ve seen before, but is happily comforting.
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Fragments of an Outdoor Scene
Quilones. Eggs, an exclusive member’s club, a Christmas tree. I try to blend in with the members. A patio with a barbecue and a mosaic.
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Hidden Doors, Wet Sansa
In a complex, a restaurant portion thereof, with all sorts of hidden doors. I can’t see them as I haven’t been initiated and attained a certain level, but I can tell from others facial expressions they can. There are multiple Sansa Starks, one of which joins me on a bed that has a slow water drip on it.
Side note, mostly unrelated: the squirrel is my favorite character in Lord of the Rings.
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Biking to the Cult Hotel
- Finding a place to park my bicycle in the snow outside a hotel complex housing a cult.
- B-movie of trying to return a lost child’s doll which was found in a sealed water bottle during a flood.
- A tiny little Indian character with a plastic war bonnet.
- Fighting an old military guy above a concrete stairway, disarming his several switchblades made to look like guns.
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Backpack fell off from Motorcycle
Riding my scooter on the freeway south down the coast of Monterey, CA, with my wife riding another motorcycle alongside. We pass the skinniest Costco I’ve ever seen, with a parking lot running adjacent to the roadside. Just after passing it, I notice my backpack has fallen off. This has been a fear for awhile. I can see where it is and, seeing no better option, I begin driving backwards along the shoulder. Some cars let me pass on the left, some on the right. I make it there and I’m relieved to see it’s held together, although it’s obviously been flattened and run over a few times. I don’t remember everything I had in there, but I know there’s a few things that probably survived, definitely not my croissants though.
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Stairway Stab Girl
Taking a ride to the airport, the doors to the bus open twice. I get out on an empty platform, embarrassed as the train speeds away. End up having to walk a long way to baggage claim, a tiny beige room in a spare building.
Girl on the landing between two stairways giving a blowjob. She has the guy stab her butt, then fuck the stab.
She then loads my dishwasher with dozens of blue glass jug vessels, careful they don’t rattle.
On the couch and there’s an orange cat in my lap. Reminds me of Flop! Rat cage is open though. It turns into two black cats, like Aloysius unfortunately. I call Lynae to come help.
My brother Patrick has his Mac break. He has to buy a new PC and is humorously says and condescending about it.