Tag: restaurant

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Dream Journal

Getting Around Thai Temple & Restaurant

I scoot over to the abandoned old Thai Temple brunch on south Valencia st. I learn the story of the five bear-men who were executed by hanging there, huge brutish men all murderers by the dozens. Their ghosts/projections give chase when I speed away on my black scooter.

To get out of this compound part of San Francisco, I need to walk through a Thai restaurant. It’s the third day in a row I’ve been there, but I don’t eat this time so I sneak past the staff, avoiding eye contact –like I’m just around there.

I locate my dad’s overgrown pickup in his workshop, new-ish but already rusted on the inside doorframe, and plants growing through the hard rubber hood. He has an active project he’s working on under lights nearby, but there’s sawdust everywhere. I consider whether I can clean it up.

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Dream Journal

Buddhist Dinner, Stark Girls, Bridge Near Waterfall

I’m sitting in a communal-style restaurant, part of a big group. Instructed on how to put out my right hand behind my back (in Buddhist fashion) to receive dinner from the monks who serve it. Meanwhile, when I try to help, I over-boil the spaghetti noodles, and have to do another batch.

Arya and Sansa Stark are having difficulties cooperating. Arya is thinking of moving out. There are three bookcases in the apartment alcove.

A new bridge is built a very close by the traditional-style Japanese house where I’m staying. It’s the only bridge for many miles on this river, and it’s just after a short waterfall, which acts as a weir.

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Dream Journal

Cheap but Familiar Dreams

Kid is happy to eat replicated (irradiated) mammoth meat. There’s a feather in a shotgun, the kid mistakes it to mean it’s for him to control and change things. It’s just a gift! Next stage in this game is little stars or circles in a form that get bubbled in.

In an unfinished wood building, I live with four other adults in a 20 x 20 room split four ways lengthwise. Aislinn is there. We mostly pretend we have our own spaces, but one day I blurt out how absurd and frustrating it is that the landlord has split it like this. Outside in the hall there’s a poster framed in plastic mounted to the floor. I’m usually complaining about it because I think it’s dumb since it routinely gets slippery when it rains.

A hotel / food counter up a winding hill. Strangely Victorian and Modern. Go there with friends (Ais, Reecy) but I remember it from long in my past. I order a big plate of various fried food served in styrofoam to-go container. Before I leave I return a distinctive flat clock I took from a stairway when I was very small — back then I didn’t understand it probably broke off from something. But I immediately recognize things when I came up the grand entry stairway which, Victorian/Modern again, had an odd ’70s green shag carpet paired with Golden Age woodwork. This is an odd reason, but I think this dream happened because I smelled a bizarrely familiar apple body cleanser at a Korean beauty store — like something I played with when I was very small.

(Messy remembrance, I got woken up a few times.)

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Dream Journal

Men Are Dogs (title taken from next day’s dream)

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. Let’s just say I won’t be surprised if nothing comes of it though.

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.

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Dream Journal

Laptop and Pineapple Left in a Bag

Left my Moroccan leather backpack at a Mexican restaurant — with a laptop and a pineapple inside. This is called a piñeda, by the way. Someone tried to steal the laptop by claiming it wasn’t in there, but I was able to prove that it was, by being forceful but not accusatory.

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Dream Journal

Dream of the Right Psych Ward, and the Wrong Restaurant

Sneak into a psych ward that has Shaquille O’Neill, move into the next room over from “the old bed,” i.e. a place where something of reverence happened in the past. Too much respect to go there now. Sexed up a blonde midget girl, but somehow it’s only masturbation.

Book a reservation at a nice restaurant for whole family, get cheated by Native American banker-type who asks us a bunch of questions about being intravenous drug users. Our dinner reservation is canceled and he keeps the money. As were driving away in the car I am holding a pen and berating my family, especially my mom about “this is why I think we shouldn’t have money at all, is if we let people like that exploit it”. Guy rides by on a buffalo and I go “boooo!” No recollection whatsoever of this dream now (May 2017) and it sounds really unlike me, and most other dreams I’ve had.

Anya getting punished for screwing up…

Driving in Malta… looks like us…

Blue haired freak 20-year-old dating Gene Roddenberry…