Dream Journal

Fleeing in Mexico Resort, New Lover at the Piss Tent

Mexico, possibly Oaxaca, but a place which appears more like the Sonoran desert south of New Mexico. Temporarily my wife and I are staying at a complex of buildings (a resort I believe) with many areas: stone gazebo, collonade, buttress balustade wall… One very distinctive moment was when I floated over a pool whose bottom appeared painted, but actually the striped layers of natural sediment giving the appearance of a topographical map — I understood that it was a very rare environment miraculously conserved here, like some kind of placid natural geyser, and I spot wriggling aquatic coral snakes very close as I pass by (I should note this to someone, as these snakes in terrestrial waters are both rare and dangerous).

There’s a smaller property tucked between larger plots which has itself set up as a single attraction theme park, a line of tropical canopied boats on a flume track which performs a circuit underground, similar to Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean. With somewhat marvelous luck, they’ve managed to compete with the much bigger properties around them in staying relevant.

My wife and I have been storing a trailer full of our stuff here for as long as we can, left in a sandy side area where it ought to go ignored. But it happens that we discover that my wife has to hide for a little bit from government agents looking for her. The plan is for her to immediately flee for a small labyrinth tucked away in an obscure corner of the complex and marked by mean on the map — I will meet her later after casually being found by the agents while lounging amongst a balustrade wall and stalling the agents. The plan becomes less and less viable as my wife continues watching engrossing video with me instead of leaving.

I practically sneak up to an infrequently visited door I at the end of hallway, sometimes regarded as employee-only, but I’m in on the secret today. The setting seems to be a venerable San Francisco institution, a store like Paxton Gate or 826 Valencia or perhaps the Audium. In fact I’m just trying to get to the bathroom.

I find one — but oddly it feels like a bit of the dream is missing here — the scene and setting have changed. I have no entered a tent made into an ersatz public restroom, one set up for so long people almost treated like it’s perfectly normal. Inside I find a folded-over kiddie pool full of old pee, but also gloves? Not as gross as it sounds… no smell simply jarring. Earlier I had seen and interacted with a woman outside just before entering the tent. An slightly older woman, attractive and self-determined, I’m glad to meet with her approval — she pees on my exposed leg over the cesspool of gloves and things get sexy refreshingly fast. It’s nice to be with a woman who knows what she wants, and who happens to want me at the moment. I’m eating her out with lots of enjoyment when I must interrupt the adventure to take a phone call (from my dad, of all people). I have enough reserve and I’m in a good enough mood to listen fairly well… and for a long time. The woman is so patient and appreciative of my patience also. While I listen I gaze at one of my tiny rats there in the room with us, perched in the open (after having been tracked down by me in an earlier dream which I can’t quite place). By the time the proceedings resume my wife has arrived and she too eats out the women, while I move up to suck her nipples. This is a spontaneous and welcome episode of joy.

The three of us are naked in the backyard on picnic benches when our landlord, newly clean shaven, and his wife arrive. He looks like Shepard Book from Firefly or Blameless Marad from Horizon Zero Dawn. The pair of them leave but actually come back in a minute, which I find a worthwhile breach of expectation. He begins to speak, starting with something like “nine years ago you paid the foundation of…” I accidentally interrupt him by complimenting his new look, a bit embarrassing but we have such a mood today it’s hard to break out of. The interruptions happen a few times in this way. I don’t recall exactly how it may have ended, as the tensions recently with our landlord have been high, but there may have been a sour node with his wife specifically, who’s never much talked before.

Dream Journal

Rewatching Avonlea

Show up to get a ticket on a Russian train. I’ve been staying at a hostel nearby so I can leave when convenient. I show up as it’s pulling into the station, but the interface of the ticket machine proves fiddly and I have difficulty working with the Russian interface. I’m trying to select St Petersburg, getting the shorthand wrong, having to swap destination with current location. The train is unusually prompt and pulls away in an absurdly brief one or two minutes. Last time it was in the station for about half an hour. I’m very, very mad, finding myself awake in bed at 6 a.m. I quell my rage with a sleep mask.

In a pool (a specific corner of a pool much like my family’s in my childhood home) doing a baptism ritual for an infant — something to bless America, I think. A wedge of lime is carefully melted down on all the exposed surfaces to make it smooth as possible. The lime is delicately anointed on the baby’s forehead. Perhaps it was my own disinterest, but I wish it had been better explained.

Watching episodes of the old TV show “Avonlea” pen-pal style with my wife. There’s a scene where the plucky kids start on a gravelly Canadian beach and cross an open water channel on a dingy, following the fin of a whale cutting through the water. It’s a scene that I made and filmed myself, somehow. I remember not realizing how pretty summers are in that part of Canada.

Meanwhile I’m trying to explain something to my wife after she inquires how to do it, The solution I attempt is to send her a gray t-shirt, scrawling a message across it in pencil. Proves itself difficult to write on though; I end up making the lines too close together, and the capital letters are too blocky. While this is going on, I think I can hear her listening to Kate Bush songs.

Dream ends with me wanting to get back the three microphones I lent her. She’s never ended up using them, and I want them again to use in programming my code. My wife wakes me up to bid farewell on her way to work, and I inquire about these microphones. She jokingly confirms she won’t be giving them back.

Dream Journal

Next Door, A Fancy Pool I Treat like my Own

I’ve been living in a dingy apartment that used to be a motel. One nice thing about living here is that I have a view of the large pools at the fancy place next door, and I know how to sneak in whenever I want. However, the fancy place’s new owners have started paying for updates that actually detract from the beauty and usefulness of the pool for me. I’d rather it be old and enjoyable than new-looking and ugly. One day I’m lounging against the side of the pool and realized they’ve installed speakers that play easy-listening garbage. Without waiting I reach up and break off the speaker nearest me — realizing it’s better than planning it out and appearing suspicious.

I’m hanging out near the boundary of the property where there is a waist-high fence; I’m thinking about how it will still be easy to get in whenever I want even if they start locking the tiny gate. Chris P., a Cambodian childhood friend of mine, and two of his entourage arrive through the gate. He’s some important manager or boss of the place, which makes things perhaps more complicated or perhaps easier for me. We have a brief conversation joking about whether I’m hacking the power grid of the pool, like a famous incident in the history of Bermuda. Luckily, of all the liberties I’ve taken with this overly-wealthy next door property, that isn’t one of them.

Dream Journal

A Spillway of Colonnades

Sliding down a long wide slope of water, riding a boogie board attached by rope to a remote-controlled motor. Meet my brother at the bottom of this spillway and we talk about how fun yet frightening it is. The water is startlingly deep and dark for a pool despite civilized touches, like the pleasant collonade at water’s edge.

I’m with a subby girl who might be a satanist. She has a distinct, plump shape and is usually seen intently talking with her boyfriend (also a satanist). It’s clear she has a keen interest in murder, perhaps even a fetish for being murdered. (Probably derived from the Silicon Valley characters Gilfoyle and his girlfriend Tara, who I just learned were also satanists.) There is an acknowledged creepiness to this, and I do worry about being drawn into it or even blamed somehow.

Off to the side of the vast slide area is an anteroom, part of a museum. The cases have a display of California coins you can leaf through. I knew that before the Federal Reserve Bank, states used to mint their own currency. But I never thought to check before.

My tenth grade English teacher Mrs. Roos assigns homework: the paperwork they give you to fill out when checking in to the mental ward. The forms are oversized to be able to read it, copied from real materials but structured like every other generic homework assignment. Supposedly this is too help us understand what a character in our book I going through when she goes to the mental ward. I approach Mrs. Roos in what can only be described as a sanctum; darkened archways, candles, burnt offerings. I explain playfully but confidingly that I might skip the exercise, even deserve extra credit — you see, I once filled out these forms myself at the mental ward. How better to relate to the character than to have had to same experience?

Dream Journal

Heromum on the Seashore

A high wall, like a seawall, and behind it people I went to high school, walking. Reminds me of a gigantic pool I’ve been to in many dreams over the years.

Dropped into an alcove/alley with a plaque, a weird little oddly sided polygonal space. Behind a disused door I gain access to the 2nd-story of an RV house. My key fits in the ignition of the complicated control panel. A quick jump in narrative to the aftermath of driving/flying/crashing it into a burned-out tree (which is practically charcoal).

As I awake I have a fantasy of a place called Heromum: on the seashore, a hot spring on the edge of the ocean in the Greek province of Laystatia.

Dream Journal

Neither Brookstone, Nor Sharper Image, but P…

Diving into sparkling blue-white pool naked, after taking clothes off at water’s edge. As recommended by Pan Priest last night. Gathering of high-status leisure, Eileen is there, Koe, others too, attended by gynoid pool-parlor assistants.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch has an electronically-assisted power to talk secretly in front of outsiders. It’s disguised, warped, imperceptible to normal hearing. She’s doing this on one occasion in a tile-walled library waiting room, located in my teenage bedroom, but when she starts talking about sex the filter starts to break. A maternal woman in the same room suddenly perceives her as a disfigured bird-faced large toddler.

There’s a high-end electronic store whose name I didn’t know. It was similar to Brookstone or Sharper Image, and it started with a ‘P’, but the owner there kept misleading me that it was different stores… that I knew it wasn’t. One, for instance, was affiliated with a Chinese family, incorporated the name ‘Chinatown’ and owned several different places in SF but not this one. I pick up an employment application from the floorboards, but I just can’t figure out the name. Most of the dream, I’m bugging myself trying to remember it.

In an aisle of rifles, there’s a loaded crossbow which predictably goes off the moment I touch it. I practically roll my eyes. Upon drawback, a thin silvery arrow-bolt shaft levers upwards 45 degrees for ease of loading.

In a distant more-forgotten section packed with older merchandise, on a lone mid-level shelf above the aisles, Lynae finds a curious vacuum (or… vacuum-like trinket). It’s package is the size of a coffee cup box, ancient-looking for electronics, from the 1980s at least. Some kind of toilet pun. Christmas-themed, too, with faded rainbow shoehorned in there. I don’t recall us opening it, but it was an amusing curiosity.

Dream Journal

Dream: October 24, 2018

Staying in Tahoe with poly peeps, I go out in the crisp early morning air to the enclosed backyard. I count six hot tubs arrayed around the pool, it’s so wonderfully abundant — maybe decadent, even.

Hot older woman, fancies herself a femme fatale. Wife of someone powerful. She’s named “Korova”, like the Cannabis brand (I just visited a recreational dispensary for the first time yesterday).

I’m playing pool (the game with balls and pockets) but find it curiously frustrating, the damn physics aren’t constant… because I’m dreaming, of course.

Dean Venture, Hank, sell their subs during the credits.

Here’s a cool image: an infinitely repeating crocodile skull, spinning in space, then zoom in on an ornate pile of carved Olmec heads.

Dream Journal

Battle of Champions, Dad Doubles, Copacabana Clock

Fight between two champions, Denethor and Bison. Bison is big muscular guy who is hesitant. Denethor grabs spears but is defeated when Bison impales his leg with a sword, then another, then uses a hot spear to melt them through, then separates Denethor’s head to show him the wounds. Very brutal.

Circus show that uses a trailer that folds. It’s full of horses, which come off the trailer, and somehow become elephants on the beach where their audience sits. The elephants are blocked by black brontosaurs.

I am passing my dad, who waylays me on the way to somewhere. He talks to my doppelgänger too, and I understand this to be a delicate situation. As he recognizes me, I look him in the eyes and say “doubles” knowing it is the most respectful way to acknowledge us.

I am in a pool that uses white Armani tiles. In the far corner, away from two old women, I toss a towel onto one of the poolside chairs. There is a conical grandfather clock made of leather that I open up. It is 4 o’clock, and sunset. This is somewhere near the equator possibly in Brazil… Copacabana, Veracruz.

Copacabana is a neighborhood that I can view from up on the hillside where this pool is. There are a number of clubs, and I hear in my mind complicated music that experiments shifting with 4/4 time.

Dream Journal

Bedroom Remodel and Big Pool

Mom and Dad’s bedroom in Cathedral City. Furniture has been mostly cleared. Bathroom has had fixtures removed, replaced with single sink. Dad is going to remodel to make the bathroom smaller since Mom is no longer around. In my Cathedral City bedroom, the bed has been moved to be by the corner window. There are white curtains, and a neighbors dog sticks his head in to lick my arm. Our Japanese neighbor seems bothered by this and tries to adjust the curtains. I haven’t made any solutions to the bedroom yet, so there aren’t any clever shelves on the walls (for hidden condoms for instance). There’s a computer desk right next to the bed. I have more room to work with and I’m trying to imagine how I’m going to use it.

In a very big pool connected to the ocean. It’s the end of California street, which is one-way. The waves are large enough that ships would have a hard time sailing through them, that’s why it’s one-way. The next street over has even higher waves. The ocean looks dark, cold, like Eureka, but I’m not scared of it. I’m swimming with many acquaintances, none of whom I know in waking life. There’s a man who comes up, is very angry. He claims none of the males there exist, because he didn’t sire them/create them. I alternately cajole him and sympathize while he’s being floating around on a bogey board. All the while the waves are crashing around.

Dream Journal

Swimming Time with the Hassnaldis

Swimming in a large communal pool as it gets more and more crowded. In one corner is a hot tub; there are so many people that they’re standing up almost falling off the underwater ledge. I’m mostly swimming with a breast stroke, but use an acorn-picking strike to get through narrow passages. One such narrow passage is the underwater furnace, which I singe my hair on trying to get past.

Chicken is swimming with a wet hat on. Alice is there being held by some of Eileen’s friends. She’s asleep, floating in the water. The friend dunks her head in for just a moment and Alice wakes up crying.