Strange Dreams.

I'm exhausted, my mind was racing with craptasmic dreams last night. Here's how they went.

In the first dream, I was in NYC, helping this random girl, who had been a U.S. Marine, move into this polytech institute in downtown NY, just blocks away from NYU. She had a few bags with her, and it started raining as I piled them out of her car. All these students were outside, waiting to move in, so I sat there and watched her bags while they moved in. Some guy was there trying to get everyone to shut up, and I was playing on my computer, and there was rain, and noise, and then everything went POOF.

In the second dream, I was walking down this dirt road and came upon this house with an attached outhouse. I really, really had to use the bathroom, so I went into this house to the bathroom, and just as I was locking the door, this guy started pushing his way in, so I was screaming, saying NO, you can't come in, and he kicked down the door and started shimmying off his pants with intention to rape me. I ran out of the house and away. The next day, I was walking down the same dirt road, and there was a woman looking out the window, so I flipped her off. She came running out after me, yelling and screaming, and as we were standing in the road, this gigantic SUV came at us, running us over and attaching us to the chassy of the car. We were arguing, trying to unstick ourselves, when the woman drove into a huge pond (the one on UConn's campus, actually), and me and the woman I was arguing with fell off the chassy before it ended up in the pond. I started yelling for people to dial 911, and no one would. This guy drove up, said he would call, and then, instead, jumped into the pond, only skimming the surface, because he couldn't get below the surface. I kept yelling for people to call 911, and everyone just stood there, and then I found my phone in my back pocket and tried to dial, and I couldn't.


04.12.10: three pieces

-see me-

I'm pining.
Dressing my memories
in brims of mid-sentence
hugs and just because.
Days were easier then,
you lifted my eyes
with me cupped in
soft hands, and sheets.
I linger in my
mind, pretending tip toes
and late-night
lessons on love in the
form of sweet slices,
the core what we left.
Naked, bare, calm
and I left us there.
Remember that
where we are is not
I'm pining. Praying for
moments when I
smell you.
Feel you. Remember

-Fake it-

I pretend we're lovers,
like love-making is easy
and sensual is how I
play your motions,
bu tin my mind we're
settled, soft, and still,
sinking before beginning,
as I dream
of other

-left @ the altar-

daddy's little girl,
she'll don her tradition
in threads of
remembering what being
a daughter meant
to be
or not to be
happy without lines,
lingering lineage that
at least musters
genealogy and genes
without knowing it.
standing alone
captured under a canopy,
new family,
without any story
to call
her own.


I dream so much, all the time. Every night. And I always wake up remembering them, but I manage to push the dreams away.

It seems that often I have dreams of unpleasant things -- infidelity and depression. I don't know what to make of it. But I won't catalog such things here. They're just stupid.


 I woke up in the middle of the night from what can only be described as a nightmare. Why? Because it was horribly vivid, from scents to images, and I couldn't fall back asleep afterward. Here's the gist.

I was picking Evan/Tuvia (the boyfriend) up at the airport. He was stressed out and as he was getting in the car he lit a cigarette. I don't know where he'd been on his trip, but he was suddenly smoking, and me -- being an asthmatic with allergies to smoke -- told him to put it out. He refused, and was really grumpy with me. So I drove off, door flying in the wind. Him standing there in the rain. I was throwing him a welcome back party at home, and I got there, and he returned about 20 minutes later. He got into the house, yelled something at me in front of everyone, and then lit up. I begged him to put it out. I told him that I didn't want him to smoke. And he did it anyway. I started crying. I said, "it's me or the cigarettes" and he said "You expect me to choose you over the cigarettes?" I cried some more. People comforted me, told me he was out of character and being weird. I cried some more. 

Then the dream got weird and I ended up washing Madonna's kids clothes in a sink in the house while everyone partied around me. Evan worked the crowd with one of those beer hats on his head. I was still crying. He'd broken up with me for some damn cigarettes.

What a weird dream. I feel like I didn't sleep at all as a result. And I took a nap just now, too. What a weird sleepless night. 

Octopi in Canaan.

 Last night I had one of those wacky, super-vivid dreams that has me wondering what it means. I mean, for the most part it was utterly ridiculous, so in reality it probably means a whole lot of nothing.

Myself and four other people from my Birthright trip were at this gigantic library doing intense research trying to make a breakthrough in the case of the gigantic purple octopus that lives under Canaan (weird, yes). So I suddenly, while my colleagues are digging through books and the computer, take out a gigantic sketch pad and draw this big hill and I take out a purple marker and draw a gigantic octopus underneath the hill and go, "GUYS! LOOK!" and all of a sudden they're like "YOU'VE DONE IT! BREAKTHROUGH!" and we run over to this pile of books and are digging through this shelf and find this one right as they announce the library is closing so we grab the books and run down the escalator as it's turning off and run out the door in utter elation and one of the guys makes his book fly away like a dove ... and we're dancing around because we've uncovered the mystery of the gigantic purple octopus. 

Trippy. Artist's rendition of the breakthrough drawing: 


A funny little poem.

 Ode to a Bathroom Stall

Oh bathroom stall,
Why are you so small?
Thighs hitting sanitary dispensers,
Difficult to exit, even harder to enter!
I twist, I turn, to get to the seat,
Why must you persist in offering grief?