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Dream Journal

Left Behind by Workers

A store across the street, where JCX should be, sells big bags of Perlite. I decide I want to get a second bag, as the first one squishes down a little. Standing there next to the tall multi-level floor-to-ceiling shelves I wait for one of the workers to get it and check me out. Is takes so long after I squish the first that it’s compressed fully 1/5 its start size. My cousin Betty is possibly working there — all the employees all very cool but apparently overworked and super slow.

Later I’m in a different retail store, small, reminds me of a place I visited in North San Juan called Peterson’s Corner. Not an employee in sight, I carry a spool while searching about for a place to put it. There could be a walk-in fridge which might do. I spot several workplace posters of my friend Oz, and I want to tell her they need to pay her more for if they use her for modeling work.

Categories
Dream Journal

Chaos Ghost Derby

A railroad encircles the edge of Sacramento river delta vineyards. Slow journey. I’m a kid, and it’s a parallel journey to my flight back home after a living abroad — flying across the entire continental USA and landing somewhere in Oregon. My parent says we’re going home, to the pine state, but I check my weekly predictions and foresee several saddle & ranch-themed places and events… dusty winds from the East.

I’m a ghost, a spirit, and I’m called to enact the Destruction Derby. A motorboat near the scenic park-side boardwalk splits in existential mitosis, splitting again into four motorboats, panicking at my invisible intensity. Other boats flee into the sides of houses trying to escape my wake. After the chaos, while clothed in humanness, I witness buses driving around torn in half, motorcycles needing to be un-embedded from the street. There’s great disorder and possible loss of life, but I only do it once in awhile and I’m not me when I do it, anyway. And I’m never mean. In fact, I’m fair.

Afterwards, Betty and many other girls are being evacuated, marched out in formation. In semi-ghost form I squeeze butts & hips. New girl with them is like “and… you randomly just sometimes have a ghost feel you up after this stuff happens? HUH.”

Categories
Dream Journal

Almanac A-Frame Apartments

At a big resort near a body of water. Kids have their own river ferry/train that brings them to an enclosed playground with a long, sloping beach facing a canal and tall hotels. I ride across (cause trains are fun) and play lightsabers with some random kids near an artificial sand-bottomed pool. The fences are fat and colorful. Kids find their way into beige hotel rooms accessible from small doors near the poolside.

The interior of one of these transitions into a building built for older, rich Orange County types. Unusually pleasing architecture — like stacked A-frame houses, nestled together in the form of a steep little hill. There’s a series of these in an otherwise undeveloped Coachella Valley, called Almanac developments. They have the ugliness of being new, their small plants and just-bulldozed roads, but unlike most new developments they actually foster community. My viewpoint bounces from one to another, oldest to newest, until landing on the very peak of a hill which will be the developed next.

Flirting with a younger girl — we leave at the same time from a parking garage.

While sitting in the truck, a lady excitedly approaches our passenger side and tries to hand over a note. Wishing to expediently end the situation, I roll down my wife’s window (to her annoyance). It’s some generic inspirational gobbledygook which, as I expected, gets her to leave us alone after she’s told us “the good news”. I indicate to my wife that I think the lady’s just manic or something. My wife endearingly scribbles some creative additions to the ends of the lines of words, making the platitudes much more perverse and hilarious.

In the courtyard of a winding apartment complex, in a brick-walled barbecue pit area, I watch cousin Betty pick up hot coals with her bare hands. This isn’t far from somewhere on the coast called Mordor Bay.