Categories
Dream Journal

Bathtub, Petting Pet Rats, Cracked Windshield

Long time in the bathtub together with my wife. Soaking at opposite ends, both on our phones. Searching for a song I’m trying to remember, something relevant to our conversation. I step out of the bath for a second to go to the bathroom door, noticing that I have a boot and sock on my right foot, which I’ve been hanging out the bathtub this whole time without thinking about it.

Petting my rats in their cage, petting all of them by name. Swapping between old ones and new ones. Xolito gets pets. I notice how much slower my older rats are, much easier and accepting of affection. I’m trying to remember something about one of our newer rats, where I got it, or maybe what its name was — something like Lapassan Confederacy? This is mixed up with the other drain or I was trying to remember.

I need to get the car key back from my former friend Sarah G., who lives in the East Bay instead of the Mission (like she really does). As I arrive at the parked car I remember I need to let her know I’m coming in case she’s not home — but I realize I still have the other key to drive right now so it doesn’t matter as much. I find the car’s windshield cracked open in a very specific way on the driver’s side. I’d kind of been expecting this what with the age of the car. It’s always some damn thing. I immediately take some pictures as evidence, but realize my tarp is still partially laying over the car — insurance might blame me for that, despite how silly that theory is. I pull it off and lay over a nearby electrical wire under a tree over the sidewalk.


Fragments:

  • Wandering the streets of New York (or maybe the Mission District in earlier days) looking for Zorhan Mamdani.
  • Burning Man — what about Burning Man? Seems like a setting from much earlier in the dream sequence, but no idea its relation to anything else.
Categories
Dream Journal

Alone with a List

Making a list of things

Things that are googled as I type them

All of which center around dying this horrible navy-colored hoodie I just got (I actually just got a cozy red hoodie)

(and actually it was Lynae who posted this morning about how much she hated an ugly navy-and-grey ModCloth ensemble)

And it’s hard to type because Swiftkey keepsfuckingup thewords

I realize that I’m alone in the attic space, where a moment ago the rest of my classmates (tenth grade history, Mr. Conklin) had been all around me

And that they were all downstairs now, and I was about to get locked in with my depressing craft search list

That’s when I woke up in my loving lukewarm bath and knew if I spent any longer there, I’d be trapped all night

Categories
Dream Journal

Replay, Shaving Confusion, Cesar Chavez Funeral Home

Replay of experience in February 2014 from an impersonal perspective. Why they thought I was crazy, and how that thought contributed to the problem.

Shaving in the bathtub, but not wet. Miss a lot of spots, very uneven. Lynae texts me and tells me to be where she told me to be when we’d texted previously. I don’t understand for a moment and then Edgar comes to the door. He begins saying something about how we can’t put things in the garden. Before he can finish, a giant dog that I didn’t know was in the apartment bursts from behind me and to my left.


Driving to a Chicken John show, I have to back the truck into a wall along Cesar Chavez. I get out and walk along the outside of a Victorian funeral home that I’ve helped empty. I’m then inside, walking along a hallway. I am counting my distance and imagining the cremation rooms that I’m passing through beyond. A woman passes me from behind and to the left, she’s in her twenties, white, hair done up, and as she passes me and enters a different room she says something like “this place is [fascinating/amazing/built for us], isn’t it.”