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Dream Journal

Camping on an Island, Rescued

Camping on a private beach on the south shore of an island when an alien invasion is announced.

I don’t know the private landowner who I’m staying with, but he has a floating camper with hidden food stores, on a big swampy plot to the southwest. The land is basically only being held until it’s valuable enough to sell for home development, which I find regrettable.

I watch a childlike version of myself be rescued from under a table. After I recover, and can walk along the offramps of the freeway out of town, the same area is searched again. I then help the person who helped me, to now get a small kid who has a leg injury out from under the table. I feel warmly about this.

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Dream Journal

Three Doors Down, and Autumn in New York

Parents finally trying to get themselves together to move into their new house, which they’ve owned for awhile. It stands on a corner — tall, narrow, empty, and pristinely white on every surface. Inconveniently, the squat modern apartment my parents rented for me to stay near them is three plots down. Not having adjacent backyards means we can’t spend time together but be in our own spaces. Going through the charming sideyard, with loungers and decorations of flickering tiny pumpkins, I understand better that we’re really using it as an Airbnb.

A streak of trees and sky filtered through some distortion, like glass, but treated by my mind’s eye as a real object. A striking impression of autumn in New York.

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Dream Journal

Family Schemes, Good Date/Bad Date

My extended family has been sending me on a series of themed errands all day. Eventually, I arrive in a private back room to find them in a circle talking intensely and in a suspiciously evasive way. My Aunt Carol (my mom’s brother’s wife), by way of informing me and bringing me into the conversation, tells me this involves an elderly uncle with the last name Kilit. She quizzes me, expecting me to know it was her maiden name — he’s her brother. He’s unexpectedly fighting the stipulations of an inheritance, which somehow threatens money for the whole family. The whole thing seems purposefully overcomplicated.

I take leave of my family and wander into an adjacent closed restaurant. The bar is riveted metal, the lighting dimmed, a liminal space. I find I get along well with several staff who are there preparing for evening diners. I feel comfortable among the relative poverty of the employees who sleep in hammocks slung in backrooms.

Moving onward, I go on a date with a girl walking together down the street. While she’s behind me and I can’t see her she lifts me into the air — surprising me with her ability to take me flying. We survey the countryside. I observe a timelapse of how plots of land are drawn, then grouped together, such that there’s always a house. Some houses grow as grand mansions while others remain farmsteads. It depends on the land, and less on who lived there.

On my second date with the girl I’m kept waiting in her room for some time. She wasting my time (and hers, in my opinion) railing a less attractive dude just because he’s newer. Many random visitors drop by. One pops in and says “is that what I think it is”, gesturing toward the closet. Turns out he’s here to acquire heroin. I nope outta there ASAP.

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Dream Journal

Country of Bensbensvideo

Little part of Canada nestled in a shadowy river-side forest of Nebraska, a map of thin little medieval-like individual plots. Eventually this odd holdover secedes to America out of convenience.


Traveling along a road and I convince my mom that it’s a good idea to stop at the smallest country I’ve ever been to, Bensbensvideo. It’s essentially just an old building, ground floor bar, upstairs apartments, with a little side lot for me to leave my motorcycle while I go to the beach. In the thick undergrowth someone has left glasses of white wine covered with Tupperware tops. I discover decayed whale bones under a little alcove. My mom and I finish our wine as we see the tide has quickly come in, up to the wheels of my truck. Getting ready to leave, I can feel the psychic pressure from the grumpy old woman tending bar when I scurry through on my motorcycle.


Lying in bed on my side as a kid/teenager, wearing an oversized pajama shirt, in a house which belongs to my parents. Realizing how I’m not a real contributor to the household, even though I might be focused on how I work on stuff all the time.