Dream Journal

Delivering Bottled Plants, Fright in the Car

I’m raising sundew seedlings into adult plants, leaving them outside in pretty bottles to grow. At one, I show cousin Diana the progress that it’s made. While I’m pruning and rewatering one and her friend Reesa screws up and squishes it –three times. Find former of this and she asks why I want to make her feel bad to which I say I just want her to stop hurting my plant. I also manage to get trapped behind a set of portcullis gates in a play castle, before luckily yelling to the maintenance crew that closed them at that hour. (When I was younger, I might not have yelled!)

There’s some little intermission on the roof of Notre Dame of two people meeting clandestinely to exchange information. I’m one of them, but I’m also someone unseen, behind the point of view of the observer. Adjacent to them his rows of unused flags, one green one from Astoria I remember, as part of a story told by Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez about someone in her district who went missing.

I’m making a delivery of two of the bottled plants to a fancy upscale residence after dark. I double check my containers as I’m making the delivery and when one is missing I go back to check my car. It’s a low two-door, and I say approach I hear The Futurama/EVA mashup song, and recognize I left my door open. Inside the driver seat I noticed the glove compartment is cracked slightly. It’s a cold winter tonight in the city, and my breath inside the warm car is unusually easy to see. I realize the possibility, but don’t use my flashlight as was my first impulse… instead using my phone as a mirror. I catch glimpse of a wicked clown grimace and actually laugh a little, boosting myself into a quick wakeup so I could write this down. I said as dry as possible, “ha, that’s really funny” …but I meant it.

Dream Journal

Vision of Magic while Trying to Sleep

So I just had one of the more powerful, scary magic experiences of my life.

I was hanging out with my dad in my living room talking about god-knows-what. We were kind of talking about magic. He was trying to talk me down from considering it. Then a funny thing happened — we both saw something that should be impossible. A magazine with which I’m very familiar — the issue of Cabinet with the article on Boethius and his wheel of fortune, the one thing that most helped me get centered while I was in jail — was seen to be levitating several feet off the floor. I didn’t mean to point it out, I didn’t want it to be real, but I did anyways. My dad and I lost volition. Fell to the floor. Stared and stared. Our vision left us. I started talking, trying to talk my way out of believing, and my voice kept going but I heard no sound. I began trying to signal that we needed to cut it out, using the throat-slash hand gesture. My dad held tighter on to me, believing I was saying something more sinister. So then I couldn’t gesture.

All of this really happened — in a dream I just woke up from. It’s the first dream I can remember since the last dream I can remember, which I had near the beginning of February. It was one of the scarier experiences I’ve had in a dream in awhile, because it’s comforting in a strange way.

It means that magic can’t really hurt you as long as it’s only a dream…

Got that?