Girl I know, met on an island in the middle of a lake in June 2013. Now called Dara Vinne.
I spot my old crush Dara walking across the crosswalk outside my house. She’s dressed in faded pastels, a pastel hoodie pulled over her head. I recognize her despite the personally unlikely color palette and the odd gait she has, a side-to-side waddle like her hips are too big.
She turns into a rat, scrabbling around the kitchen for Teddy Grahams to eat. Squeezing inside an empty milk jug, I start feeding her Teddy Grahams.
An old-timey cruise ship, looks like the Titanic, tilt-y coming out of port. A thin cliffside gorge, zig-zagging along back-and-forth paths. A bomb in old ceramic dish, beeping much too loud. My old crush’s birthday.
Array of plastic tables indoors on first floor, light streaming in through the windows. Lynae is there, many others Dara too. We’re all waiting for something in enforced silence while outside a dense, tall city bustles.
Lynae and I are looking for a suitable oil truck to make deliveries on a small island in the central valley delta. In a steep, small dirt harbor we check out out a poorly maintained rustbucket with catwalks, the tanker alone costing our total $1500 budget. Chicken steams in on the Relentless and tells us we need to buy it and get started already. I expect we’ll get stuck working on the island, but consider that we’ll be the first to settle the area — we’ll be pushing the edge of civilization.
Welp… no getting around this one being weird: I was presented with a humorously-intended blowjob voucher from my old crush, while sitting in my own living room. In front of my wife no less. Not exactly a bad dream, but I won’t be surprised if nothing comes of it.
Jeez let’s add a winky face to this nonsense, I guess, that should help ?
My Uncle Robert and Aunt Carol have a long, sloping, grassy field through the forests. A Pacific Northwest vibe. The grass is so tall (and wet) in places a full-grown man can hide in it. Taking a narrow tree-lined canyon path off from it, Lynae (to a small group) sketches out on a whiteboard her idea of a baseball score-keeping concept. Columns of Team A / Team B, a simple but useful discursion.
A bartender at a restaurant, perhaps a company cafeteria, gives me my change as flecks of gold suspended in a glass of water. I try to transport it outside by holding it in my mouth without much success. Coming back to my motorbike, I see that I’ve left my phone on it in plain view, on top of my jacket no less.
The store I was planning to go to has closed while I was inside the restaurant. Soon I do some super-high jumps on my scooter, front flips even, but the bike will still be fucked when I land.
Spent a good long time at a waterpark, Christina Olson is there. Somehow we miss a bunch of activities, and so I agree to meet Christina again the next day. She expects me there at 8:30 am for some reason and I’m trying for hours to get motivated out of bed, receiving intermittent texts the whole time, but end up getting there by noon anyway. Yet she seems unexplainably unperturbed when I finally arrive.
I discover, in an area that’s part of an archeological exhibit from before the waterpark was built, a busted-up wagon wheel. It has only four spokes left, in an arrangement that resembles a rhombus. I know it’s a valuable artifact, but I end up putting it inside a large glass of Coca-Cola and the damn thing dissolves like a tooth in a science fair project.
(Let me tell you about my dream this morning…)
We were walking up the stairs to your apartment. I was behind you. You opened your front door, turned around, and suddenly noticed me. With a gasp, you hit an emergency switch which slammed down a portcullis — a genuine medieval portcullis — over the entry. Immediately you recovered, apologized… a bit embarrassed perhaps… and began trying to retract the damned thing. It was stuck. There was a solid mechanism, but it was finicky, antiquated. This went on for a long while. It got awkward. I felt silly helping you from outside. I don’t know how we got it open. Or who. But the portcullis ended up on the floor. I don’t know if we just broke it down, or what, but by the end of the dream we were making out on top of it… metal spikes and all.