Tag: university

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Dream Journal

Orange Bike, Moving Mess, Missed Workshop

Cleaning the orange parts of an orange-accented bike with hydrogen peroxide. It’s very orange, with lovely yellow really grips, and I’m surprised how many scuffs actually come off well. I’m reminded of all the orange Nickelodeon bumpers I watched as a kid.

I ride the bike as I prepare to take a trip to the University Center, parking it outside the garage real quick to run upstairs. It’s like four flights up, unlike the childhood bedroom I had when I was seven, which it resembles.It only feels dangerous to leave the bike outside like that while I’m briefly delayed moving things around on top of a mini-fridge — which is silly of course. The way I’ve lived, I’m constantly on courts and cul-de-sacs and other safe places. That’s what I think in the dream anyway. Before I go, I ask my brother Patrick if he wants anything from the school cafeteria.

I moved into a new, smaller place with my family weeks ago, but all the appliances and boxes are still stacked everywhere. It’s strange looking into the kitchen and seeing the blank, high white walls, knowing that’s where the stuff should really go.The space should be full with shelves and organizers, but instead all that stuff is stacked high in front of it, blocking pathways. Eventually, we forced the unpacking issue a little, asking about a specific oven box. That guy isn’t going to be here for months still, so we just moved it.

I’m sad that I won’t get to see the house with a big basement again. I realized that since it belongs to my landlord, he won’t allow me to buy or rent it at this point. We don’t get along. This was actually another dream that I had, one with a house that had lots of kitchens — there was one specific one with a big island in the center, a few fridges, which I fantasized about turning into my workshop.

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Dream Journal

Stranded, but with Friends, but without Sleep

dark water

While traveling between San Diego and San Francisco, I get stuck outside when service stops, at a warmly-lit pub, somewhere near a dark ocean. I have to figure out a second-fastest way to get back; it seems to be air travel. Unfortunately the airline books me with a 5-day stopover (!). I end up staying with my college girlfriend Jenna, and spend my time doing things like organizing colored markers in a cabinet.

I ask her about what it is she sleeps in, trying to get a read on whether it’s a good idea for me to sleep naked as usual. At some point (which I don’t notice until after waking), Jenna becomes my friend Mickey.

I stay with Mickey at a university. It’s getting on midnight and I want to sleep, but his bed is configured to be the size of a couch (this is similar to an actual story I just re-told yesterday). I navigate my way through stacks of books in this long hall full of students — surrounded by a focused studying energy only found in the early month of September in a school year — to an open triangular little storage room with a mirror screwed on the wall and the final 3/4 of a box spring, which will finally allow me to sleep on a full bed.

Categories
Dream Journal

University on a Small Island

A university on a small inhabited island, dry and brown and hilly, off the coast of California. The school specializes in drawing and hand-drawn traditional animation. One day, they have us label our materials kits and fill out a multi-page form. There’s a checkbox to support “56% Magazine” at $8.33 monthly. The school subsidizes students, and half of a large duplex (on the low end) is as low as $80 and $9. At some point I’m staying in Lorie Ohlemann’s house and snooping around her bedroom, finding cards and notes. One place is apportioned with a 4-person guest shower with a hosting bar. This keeps the island a lot more lively than one would expect, and I almost don’t miss city life. I ride my scooter around most everywhere and do deliveries. One day, I ditch work without calling in and spend the day carefully hiding out in different buildings. The next day I sneak out during the long afternoon doldrums with the idea to plant a luscious olive I’ve eaten. I find someone I know, Tiff von Biff, sitting on my scooter handlebars. I impressively veer left and right with her still on there, then manage to pop my first wheelie, making her scream.