Category: Dream Journal

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Dream Journal

Dream of a Store called Beached

Hanging out for what seemed like hours in this rich/upscale home. It was mine, or a relative’s, or someone who liked me very much. I was at a long, luxurious dinner party, in a charming and tastefully lit loft, with a rack of fur coats on hangers. This dream must have been earlier in the night, as it set the scene for another dream.

Friends of mine — or perhaps I, myself — opened up a new storefront called “Beached”. It was in a hipstery neighborhood blending part of London, San Francisco’s Mission, LA, and Berlin’s Kreuzberg. The store was angled from the storefront, and was structured around a large communal swimming pool, with a bar, changing areas off to the side, and an upper level with a jacuzzi lounge and clothing boutique. Reecy was there as part of an opening day crew. The store proved very trendy, and was a commercial success.

Later during this day’s events I would end up going to LiquidRom, but did not manage to fully write down the dream beforehand.

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Dream Journal

Three Disconnected-Feeling Dreams

Walking outside, freshness of air is strong. I make it to a pedestrian bridge where I can see through the cables to the waters below. I’m exhilarated but also afraid — of what I’ll do. I’m keenly aware of my phone in my pocket, thinking it might be thrown.

Out among the urban streets of San Francisco, I hear a crack and watch as people on the sidewalk are engulfed in stinging white gas. It then happens to me, and I remember what I learned: to breath sad, and virtually.

Building a drawer into an existing kitchen cabinet. I discover by pulling the assembly out that by luck where I’ve placed it is very close bring securely installed. As if the sliding diagonal piece was made for it.

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Dream Journal

Ogliamelanschmertz

Ogliamelanschmertz — a word that sticks out from this dream, no remembrance of its meaning.

I’m reading a story I wrote, through car speakers, about a letter addressed to African American survivors living in the Great Dismal Swamp. The US Postal Service sends in a young Russian guy and there’s a documentary about his incredibly difficult efforts, during which I see first-person through his eyes. The expedition finds a glossy, smooth, rusted iron cookpot. It’s a splendid find, but it’s as far into the story as I got. I ask [dream] Lynae and she says honestly she doesn’t think the story has much merit.

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Dream Journal

Dream of the Right Psych Ward, and the Wrong Restaurant

Sneak into a psych ward that has Shaquille O’Neill, move into the next room over from “the old bed,” i.e. a place where something of reverence happened in the past. Too much respect to go there now. Sexed up a blonde midget girl, but somehow it’s only masturbation.

Book a reservation at a nice restaurant for whole family, get cheated by Native American banker-type who asks us a bunch of questions about being intravenous drug users. Our dinner reservation is canceled and he keeps the money. As were driving away in the car I am holding a pen and berating my family, especially my mom about “this is why I think we shouldn’t have money at all, is if we let people like that exploit it”. Guy rides by on a buffalo and I go “boooo!” No recollection whatsoever of this dream now (May 2017) and it sounds really unlike me, and most other dreams I’ve had.

Anya getting punished for screwing up…

Driving in Malta… looks like us…

Blue haired freak 20-year-old dating Gene Roddenberry…

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Dream Journal

the iPhone Bending in Your Pocket Dream

My iPhone is bent out of shape from being in my pocket. The top right corner of the screen is covered up by the design, and the left is extended. Trying to bend it back what makes me worry I’m going to break it.

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Dream Journal

Dream of New Garden

I start a gardening club that rents a backyard at 1230 Something street, local number 1010. I have the new keys and enter very quietly so as not to disturb the neighbors. The space is small and rectangular with high white walls and a path around the center. There’s a yellow droplet-shaped fountain in the center and purple petals scattered all over the lawn. I consider making steps embedded in the wall corner so to climb the fence. There’s a very tall nerdy-punky guy neighbor who we invite over for volleyball, to see if the gardeners can defeat the giant.

I’m in a garage (somewhat like Cathedral City garage) and sit on a chair with baby Alice on it. I’m lying on my side and she’s sitting on my butt. We’re having some sort of conversation and I come to the happy conclusion that it’s unnecessary to tell her about what things were like before she was born.

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Dream Journal

Conversation with my Brother

Walking around with Patrick, passed the doorway of what could have been my old Chicken John hostel stomping grounds. Talked about how he plans to go to China by Christmas. Talked about the Malaysian yuan. Felt that I could have done more to encourage him.

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Dream Journal

Four Dreams Recalling Youth (and one Premonition)

Walking with Lauren through the streets of Cathedral City. I watch traffic pass by and have that strange familiar feeling of “this is really happening” even though it’s not as profound as it used to be. I watch a man riding in the back of a pickup truck stop and slide out. He gives me a ride, but Lauren is nowhere to be found. He drives past the intersection where I am going, the office of housing. He’s driving offroad in the desert.

A game of basketball played between two teams of school age kids. The ball comes to me, and I’m within range to take a shot. Two other of my teammates have already tried and failed, and I know I will try and fail also.

Housesitting for my dad, I’m in my parents bedroom in Cathedral City. But my mom has already passed away. My dad keeps a slideshow of her going from the funeral on a very small old fuzzy TV screen. The bathroom feels empty with its two sinks.

Flop walks up next to me and I noticed that his hair has started to fall out… that his skin underneath is black and wrinkly. I’m forced to admit that he must be sick, possibly cancer, and I need to take him to the vet.

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Dream Journal

From Sailboats to Planet Sims

Memories of a former dream of a Pacific isle with only a small harbor, sailing a single swimboat into it, as skies grow grayer. It’s near Hawaii? Trapped as some sort of hostage. I see from the first person perspective, but it’s as if I’m reading or writing a story at the same time. Moving around a large white room. My vision is compressing distance, as if I am manipulating the environment by my perception of it. I manage to kill or restrain “Dr. Plenti” — something I may have been judged as psycho for, despite my need to escape. I lured his wife into the room and slipped through the door into another room, with a plastic sheet over the north-facing window. The first-person character, “me”, proceeds to navigate around tall shelves of construction storage, eluding a novice security guard, finding a patch of trees along a winding path which is reminiscent from dreams of several rural graveyards.

I engage Valerie in a fond hug, as I try to understand what she can be helped with romantically. Unsure if I’m helping her as a friend or propositioning her.

Mickey and Robby T. finally find themselves as gay lovers. What?

Video game where you run a planet simulation, but I only manipulate the input resources and let it run. I watch a vast terraced valley develop, farmhouses and townscapes and weather moving across the viewport. There are square edges on the walls of each rounded platform, a notable video game faux pas. To pause, I reach behind my current lily pad-like unit and pull up a badminton racket (they all have these) and notice the tick-tock of time slow to a halt so that I can examine the world’s results. Notable is the poor performance in dental health, indicated by tooth-brushing. This was an actual variable in the game!

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Dream Journal

Cafe Bookstore & Venture Bros

Beautiful new bookstore cafe in SF comes with a superstition: people put pennies in the rug. Their library/study is exceptional. It has a warm, farmhouse vibe even with the laptops.

Venture Brothers are captured and have to adopt false identities. When left alone, the facade drops except for Brock who tries to moralize with a speech about “scruples for heroes in stripes for pipes” (or something). I attempt to demonstrate a face mask filter but Lynae can’t help me find it.