dreams

1.18.18

I am in a swimming pool with Nicole (Denalda). We are both bobbing our heads up and down in the water. The water must be at least 12 feet deep but I remain afloat almost effortlessly. We both devise a game of who-can-hold-their-breath-the-longest. Simultaneously, we both sink down into the water and sit on the bottom of the pool. When I open my eyes I see Nicole sitting calmly, looking at me with a serene smile on her face. At first it feels like I won’t be able to hold my breath for longer than a few moments but when I relax it feels like I could hold it forever. However, the urge to breathe overtakes me and within a minute or so I emerge to the surface of the water and take in big noisy gulps of air. Meanwhile, Nicole emerges and we climb out of the pool laughing and having fun. I glance over to Nicole and notice a scar on her arm and think to myself, “I’m so glad Nicole wasn’t seriously hurt.” I am enjoying my time with her so much. (Nicole died last year in a the Ghostship Fire that killed so many young artists in Oakland, CA)

Later, I notice a bulls-eye on the back of my hand. The inner circle looks red, and the outer rings look orange and blue. The bulls-eye wiggles and slowly moves around my hand. I think, “these are tumors, they are cancerous. I need to get them off me or I’m going to die.” I take the finger of my other hand and scoop them up but find that the bulls-eyes migrates onto my other hand. After making several failed attempts at removing the bulls-eyes, my other hand dons a latex glove which I use to scoop them off. This time the bulls-eyes do not take to the glove and I am able to flick them off.

Later, I am balancing along a precarious edge between a body of water and a short cliff. There are several tall protrusions between which I hop and struggle to stay on top of. Meanwhile, there are people coming and going all about me. To my amazement there are all kinds of semi-precious stones littered on these small ledges. Labradorite, calcite, amythest are everywhere. I scoop as many as I can into my hands and as I re-examine them, they do not look nearly as captivating as they did resting on the ledges. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake? I set them back down and attempt scooping up more before anybody else wants to grab them up from under me.

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dreams

1.12.18

I am in an unfamiliar house with my immediate family. It feels as though I am in Omaha, Nebraksa. I am due to leave on a flight to Japan for a week where I’ll be taking a continuing education course in massage therapy. The thought of being in Japan fills me with a great expansiveness and excitement. I linger about the house with my family the morning of my flight. Someone asks, “aren’t you supposed to be to the airport?” I respond, “no, my flight isn’t until later.” I spend the morning without a care, lazily walking about the house and talking with my family. When I do arrive at the airport in the early afternoon, I ask someone at the desk about the flight to Japan. “Didn’t that already leave?” They respond. I was confident that my flight was scheduled to leave later, maybe too confident. I rush to find another woman at a desk and ask her about my flight. She checks her computer and tells me that it departed at around 7:50 in the morning. I feel crushed and angry at myself for being so careless. Why didn’t I take this more seriously? I should have double checked the flight times! I pace about the airport, considering my options. I could get a later flight but that’s going to cost more money and cut into my time at the workshop. I could stay later and do some traveling throughout the country. That possibility excites me. However, some inner indecision keeps me from acting on any of these possibilities and I instead spend the time chastising myself, feeling stupid, and worrying about the financial fallout from this mistake I’ve made. All this keeps me from doing anything.

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dreams

1.4.18

I am sitting in a busy crowded restaurant. The lights are turned down low. It is cozy and richly ornamented here. My phone rings and I answer. Instead of saying “hello,” I pause and say, “Hello, _____?” I say the woman’s name, but I do not remember it. It’s as if we pick up this conversation in the middle. She seems to want me to do some manual therapy on her. I tell her, “meet me at Whirled Pies,” which is a coffee shop/bakery in Eugene. I begin telling her exactly how to meet me at the table I am sitting in this restaurant. I painstakingly give her highly detailed instructions. “Go left, then walk to the end where you will come up against a wall, turn right here…” It is absolutely imperative that she be capable of finding me. As I am giving her instructions I have suddenly met with her. The dream dissolves.

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dreams

12.14.17

I am in front of a house down the street from where I grew up. It is Edward’s house, the house of a childhood friend. I am standing with Molly and several other people. North by northwest is a fire raging in the sky, consuming the trees and structures on the horizon. The flames are advancing very quickly. Filled with panic and urgency, I make ready to flee, but hesitate, as this house is our home, and inside are all our belongings. It’s only a brief hesitation. There is no time. I tell Molly we must run down the street to my parents’ house to where my truck is parked. We must drive quickly in order to escape the flames and death. we will have to leave our life and our belongings behind. There are only minutes to spare.

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dreams

12.13.17

I am in my childhood home with Molly. I want desperately to be alone. I escape the room and run upstairs and into my room. I rush in and am about to close the door but hesitate. I leave it slightly ajar so that Molly may still enter. By this act, she somehow materializes in the room, which enrages and frustrates me. In the upstairs hallway, I rush out and grab my guitar. I say to Molly, “quit acting like I’m the crazy one!” I am so frustrated with her continual presence, but there’s a nagging desire for it, regardless. Standing at the top of the stairs, I realize that my parents have just returned home. There is another woman with them, and a small child who passes from the kitchen carrying a guitar with nylon strings. I suddenly cease fighting and take an interest in the child, speaking with him about taking lessons. There is a meanness within me, wishing to continue fighting with Molly, but I see how futile and dysfunctional this is.

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dreams

12.9.17

I am watching a demolition derby from the stands of a small arena. I stand in a crowd as cars violently smash into each other. In the distance I see a flying creature, like a dragon. It swoops down and seems to be participating in the derby. Then with my mind’s eye, I watch as it swoops down through a hole in a hillside, which is colorfully shaped like a vaginal opening. It then emerges on the other side, through a kind of throat. Still in my mind’s eye, I watch as a small red nugget of some kind, enters into this hillside through the throat. I can already sense this is an ill-omened event. As it does so, some kind of destruction happens with the canal and the creature that swooped through it goes through a kind of degenerative transformation.

I am now in the hallway next to the downstairs bathroom in my childhood home. My father is there with me. Standing before me is an odd, blue-green hued creature. It has a wide, large jaw like a frog’s, but with dozens of little, sharp pointy teeth. I intuit that this is somehow related to the dragon I saw in the earlier dream. It’s the teeth that frighten me and I want to get away from this thing but I sense that it belongs here. It takes several bites at me while my father watches on. Neither one of us knows what to do with this wild, untamed animal.

In a later dream I am being swept down a wide, powerful river. Just ahead are man-made gates of steel and concrete which funnel the water down a steep and incredibly tall cascade. There is another, a companion, who is being swept along beside me. Just before I am swept down with the current, I manage to climb atop of the steel structure funneling the water. I climb up to a panel of buttons. Maybe one of these will save me, I think. To the far left is a red button that indicates it’s for emergencies. I don’t want to get in trouble or pay any fines, so I look for a less disruptive button, one that won’t alert anyone. I find a black, inconspicuous button which simply says, “stop”. I press it and the river below us is cut off and everywhere the riverbed turns to mud and sand. I climb down and walk to shore.

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dreams

11.24.17

I am in a very busy station somewhere. It is crowded and filled with noise from the throng of people coming and going. There is a man sitting in corner inside of a booth shouting obscene and annoying things at people. This angers me enough to the point that I begin shouting back at the man, mocking him and making fun of him. He shuts up, appears hurt, and then promptly leaves. I feel victorious and make my way to leave the station.

I arrive at the bicycle rack and do not see my bicycle. I reach around and feel my bike lock still on my bicycle. I didn’t lock it! Frantic, I search all the spaces to no avail. On the sidewalk next to one of the spaces I see my gray stocking cap. I assume this must have been where I parked my bike. There is already a bicycle parked in the space. I begin lamenting the loss of my bicycle, relating to a stranger my predicament. “No, this isn’t my bicycle. Mine is a tall red Schwinn. I’ve had it forever. It’s a bit of a piece of shit, but I really loved that thing.” The bicycle parked in the spot has a bag attached to it. I wonder if the owner of the bike might have any information about my missing bike. I and the man begin rifling through the bag. It feels wrong and dangerous, searching through a strangers’ belongings. At last we find a little piece of paper with some contact information on it. This is it! Then what I’ve been fearing happens. The owner of the bike approaches and looks down on us in confusion. I stand up and being a spirited explanation of why we are going through his things. “My bicycle was stolen from this very spot! Since I was only inside for five minutes, you must have arrived around the time he was leaving with my bike.” To my relief he seems understanding of my plight. He leads me to a table with three women and informs me that the woman sitting in the middle might know something. I explain to her what has happened and quickly realize she is either deaf or mute. I find that in telling her my story, my own voice seems to fail and I must make great effort to keep the words coming. They end up coming out in a near whisper. Has she heard me? She responds in a very soft voice and I must ask her to speak up. She attempts to tell me something again but I still cannot hear her. I wonder why her friends do not intercede for her. Before she makes another attempt I reach into my pocket and pull out my journal and a pen alongside a double-sized duplicate of the same pen. Ready to take notes, I find that I can now hear her. She says that the man’s name who ran off with my bike is named Craig. She tells me that he ran off in the direction of the library. I ask her to clarify which direction and I find that he has exited north.

This is incredible news! A moment ago I thought that I might never see my bicycle again and here I am getting concrete information about how I might be able to locate it again. Curiously, I begin to wonder if this is how great friendships are made. It seems possible that I will become friends with this Craig. I begin making plans to make a visit to the library in the hopes of finding Craig when Craig appears! He is wearing a long black trench coat, has black hair and an overall unkempt appearance. Angrily, I launch into Craig, “You stole my bicycle and now you have to give it back!” “I didn’t take your bike,” Craig responds. “You liar! Fine! If you’re not going to give it back then I’m going to take you to court!” This empty threat seems to get to him. He appears intimidated and a little scared. “I’m not going to give it to you,” he finally responds. Teeming with fury, I make to leave and shout at the top of my lungs over my shoulder, “FINE! Then I will see you in court!” Craig seems to soften some more and I confront him.┬áHe asked me, “isn’t there something you regret?” I think for a second and say, “Well, I regret not locking my bicycle. And I also regret yelling at you and hurting your feelings.” I feel genuine remorse for these things. It seems mocking Craig led to his decision to promptly steal my bicycle and for him to get me to apologize for what I did. Craig comes closer and puts his hands on my waste and my arm as if he is about to embrace me. When I realize that he is leaning in for a kiss I gently but very firmly push him away. I am greatly embarrassed with the dozens of onlookers in the room. “No, no no. I am not like that.” I feel complicit in the confusion and sorry that he mistook my expressions of regret as a come-on. “Many people have made that mistake, though, since I am sensitive and artistic,” I say in an attempt to assuage his feelings. During all this, Craig seems to be growing fatter and fatter and becoming more grotesque. Everyone stands around and does not intervene. I do not know where to go from here. The fights been taken out of me and I feel remorse for my aggressiveness toward Craig.

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