Tag: protest

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Dream Journal

Code Elimination & Tattoo Protest

Working on a section of my code where my Dreamkeeper does a check for various IDs on a page to query and keep the IDs. But a few are redundant? And it doesn’t keep them by name, but some in between specified identifier? My wife points out that she doesn’t understand if it’s working. I don’t bother explaining how it’s supposed to work, as I’m concentrating on trying to eliminate unnecessary code, trying to understand how it’s supposed to work.

I hear about a former friend, Emily W., getting a new tattoo. I ponder how fun it would be to show up outside their tattoo parlor dressed like Frank Chu and protest it, not even acknowledge it was me or I was dressed as Frank Chu.

Meanwhile, it’s the yearly release of a list of neighborhood businesses that have either recently renovated, or turned over ownership — something that’s not quite bad exactly, but that long-time residents ought to be trepidatious about. I walk up a steep asphalt shared driveway to one of them, peering into other commercial back doors along the way. This place is a bit too fancy for me, with its siding styled to look like riveted airplane fuselage. Yet from below, the steep angle makes it appear as though it’s drifting through the sky. Looks very cool actually.

Cellspace is on the list and I’d like to check them out, too. They would be someplace to the right. But they’re not there anymore to the best of my knowledge.

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Dream Journal

Protest at a Water Park, Saved

I’ve been dropped off at a water park with a group of friends. I spend most of my time by myself, but I see my handsome childhood classmate Zane Flynn walking around and I walk beside him twice.

There is a water slide being used by a giant girl near the edge of the sea. The slide cuts through a low straight ridge, water fed to it by two channels behind the ridge, the water sloshed in by two manatee-shark creatures from either side.

I’m involved in a dramatic incident where the coast is drained for an approaching tram. A lone protester walks up to the track and places his foot on it, forcing the tram to stop. Two armed guards approach to arrest him. Moving as one, myself and a large crowd surround both guards and protester, like white blood cells isolating an infection. We sweep back to the shore in a wave and break apart, saving the protester. Angela Merkel (who is in charge here) begins a retribution campaign, which I immediately notice by the presence of a creepy guy recording video directly in front of me as I walk back.

Some things in the park are already closed even by 3:00 pm, like the gift shop/president’s hall located on a mezzanine at the edge of the park. Headed back down long twisting perpendicular concrete stairs, I jump and surf on a series of long sloping metal handrails. Finally, on the way out, I consider how the musician Weird Al always seems to be on top of knowing about these protests. Then, I just happen to see him on the way out, playing an accordion cover of “We Don’t Need No Education”. I thank him. I’ve heard that he remembers all his fans names, and he yells back at me “thanks Amy!” Hm. Leaping up the stairs in bounds, I see two hip-hop kids having an argument about the protest. My answer to them is that it doesn’t matter what happened in the past, what happened today is always more relevant. And the protest happened today.

On my way back out to the communal bus, around the corner from the exit, I run into my family, which is the family from Malcolm in the Middle. In the cozy second story living room/kitchen, they’ve written a single name on a big board, “Artemisia”. I start saying “don’t even tell me, I know you’re up to something,” but they explain anyway (of course they do) it’s their list of names for people that would both wear cutoffs and who could be male or female. Of course it is.

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Dream Journal

Impromptu Absurdist Protest

Circle of people chanting absurd slogans as some kind of abortion protest. It started with me sharing an 8-bit black-and-white VHS tape. Creative masks, a lady wearing a rippling face mask, like a tank of water. This is the audience for a talk show (perhaps Sh0eOnHead or The Daily Show). They march around in a figure 8. All happening in a New York subway, gross and dirty, but somehow the perfect setting.

I unlock a panel with nothing behind it with a key of mine, an excuse to eavesdrop on a nearby couple. Can’t tell if they’re arguing or playing. I focus my eyes on a pair of dry leaves dancing nearby.

Later my aunt is talking with me about this march, wondering if it wasn’t somehow disrespectful as an abortion protest by its very levity. Not certain myself, I note that it was spontaneous, and compare it to other tension-relieving characters like… hmm, perhaps Santa Claus? I think I meant krampus. Christmas is no less solemn for their existence.

A model of the ocean is drained; the question of whether France technicality still has slavery is asked. Pouring in something the consistency of bacon fat on the ocean floor near Fiji or Tahiti, to illustrate the extent of this weirdly unperceived modern slavery. The model refills. Finally the last colony drops out and is s no longer France. Thereafter, France must deal with being completely in northern Europe with its cold winters. Near Notre Dame, I amble down a ski slalom with hurdles leftover from the Olympics, now hobos use it as a thoroughfare. I discuss public housing when someone says something insightful concerning modern poverty.