MY DREAM LOG (skipping specifics, just to remind me what was going on in my sleep)

1.8.07 "lions and tigers"
in a hilly field near a fenceline, pawed at by curious big cats; got away from cats to the safety of my old job's workshop where josh and brian (two grumpy drunks) were making plans to go fishing; a tiger followed me back and tried to get into the shop through a flimsy sliding door; desperately put all my weight on the door to keep the tiger out; brian, after i nearly lost my shit in fear, took the tigers paws in his hands and pushed it out. woke up for an hour after the dream to calm down.

1.9.07 "rusty shank"
can't remember the specifics but got into a fight that ended when i was stabbed with a screwdriver in the gut. in the dream i could totally see and feel the holes in my stomach, which was so realistic it woke me up.

1.12.07 "took toke"
i don't know how it played out, but i know for sure that after many dreams of turning down drugs, last night i had the first dream that i gave in and took a hit. i was emensely disappointed in myself and it woke me up.
1.12.07 "reunion"
went to the 10 year high school reunion that i didn't go to a few weeks ago. instead of being held at a bar (real life location) it was at a mansion hosted by adam perkins (son of dentist, now an organic farmer). it was one of those scenes out of 90210 where everyone seems to be kickin it and rich and totally one big happy click. as usual i felt like i was on the outside looking in. adam pulled me aside and showed me around his place. wings and wings of mirrored halways, servants, etc. i was impressed and started feeling better. then, when the party was winding down, i saw my estranged friend laconia, who i haven't spoken with in years. she seemed like the others: totally fitting in, superficial, having fun, laughing and speaking in such a fake tone. since she hasn't responded to me in over a year, i turned around when we saw eachother and walked away from her into a subway underground that resembled a mall after-hours (like they sometimes do in europe at night). she found me hiding in the doorway to a showroom and i told her off for leaving me alone. she pleaded her side of things and when i woke up from the dream, i was both wound up from the emotional encounter and relieved that i could see and hear her so real, even if it was in my sleep. (odd thing: she emailed me today)

1.13.07 "building fires"
a short and simple dream where i'm building a campfire for my dad. he tells me that i'm not building it the way he wants. i get pissed. we start arguing with logs over who's way is best. i walk off, but come back to him because 1. it's a silly fight; 2. he's right because he's my dad and doesn't need the stress.
1.13.07 "bob deniro"
i'm at an NA meeting/get-together in someone's basement. probably dreamt it because of the meeting i went to the night before. it's not organized by any means. just sitting on a couch. 2 robert deniros sit down next to me: one on the couch, one on a chair. the one the couch spills his guts about his inability to control his addiction, cries, begs for understanding, all the emotions of defeat. the other deniro is compassionate, but insists that i hear the other out after i raise my eyebrows. big hugs and handshakes.

1.18.07 "two-fer"
i'm running. i see my friend jenny run the opposite direction with her dude that she won't introduce to her friends/family. i keep running. i see meg (estranged psycho-depressed x-friend) running with toad (matt w. a strange loner dude who nobody would expect with meg) running in the opposite direction. then i'm racing toad with meg chasing behind us. but i'm not "racing" him, it's more me running fast and him wanting to race. we run into a gymnasium, the area by the bleachers going into the locker room. in that area he pulls a gun, i fall, he points and shoots.
next dream picks up from here:
i crawl under the bleachers where junkies are eating dirt (some form of drug in the dirt) but instead of a gym, it's in africa and the villagers hate the junkies under the bleachers, but they allow them to do their drugs and live there. my last thought before i wake is that i'm sick and tired, so i climb out from under the bleachers and wake up thinking that i'm puking on my pillow from withdrawal. it took me a while to figure out i didn't really puke on my pillow.

1.19.07 "god of wrath"
laying in bed with meg (girl mentioned before, who i was in love with, but never got any from her). we had just done some drugs, had sex, etc. then god speaks to both of us. it sounds like when an amp is plugged in wrong; not feedback, but a loud electronic hum. the voice is clear: "this is god, and i'm not happy with you" and some other stuff that put fear into us both. i woke up with the distinct feeling that god had just spoken to me and boy was "he" pissed.

1.23.07 "disneyland tsunami"
just walking through disneyland with my dad and sister. a water feature in the park breaks and sweeps away a lot of people. we find refuge in an auditorium where a show is starting. there's all sorts of cheesey kid acts and prize giveaways. i was annoyed with my dad and sister, and lots of views of excited kids.

2.1.7 "dunno WTF?"
this dream was wierder than most. starts out at my old landscaping job in the parking lot of a major construction site. everyone is in a hurry to get in a few trucks and get to another job asap. it's chaotic and stressful because there's no room for me and nobody seems to want to let me go. then i'm driving my mom's accord with my sister and rudy (the dog). we get to the job site, and rudy jumps out and goes after something in some bushes. i tell my sister to stay in the car while i look. i have to tell the rest of my co-workers that i need to take care of rudy and my sister first but i'll be right there. the new job site is a neighborhood right on a lake. instead of a job, it's as if the guys are going to war. after a guy on a bike and an old lady stop to help me find rudy, i find him and put him in the car with steph (my sister). then the old laday says "look at that!" and it's a herd of little hairy elephants and llamas and emus walking up from the lake in between the houses. one of the elephants lets me pet it, and it gets all nuzzly like a cat/dog. then one of the guys who was seperated from the others is killed and i realize i left them hanging and i need to join them.

2.2.7 "revival"
at Dana College (my first college: in nebraska, 600 students, ultra-lutheran...hated it) in a building that was half church/half library, two groups of people were there. the church group was mainly churchy types, old people, young people, listening to a sermon on the eroding value of marriage, which was the supposed reason for the school. the library types were mostly young and at some point in the sermon started arguing with the church types who were absolutely offended by a difference of opinion. it became so heated that i went to the door and looked out on to a beautiful day outside and just wanted the fighting to stop. i walked up an aisle and a congo line of the church people, REALLY fast paced congo line, almost frantic, went by me and i declined to participate. it was surreal. then i'm outside playing soccer on the campus, feels like the first day of school. i see a friend i made while there, nate olson, who was kicked out for making GHB and selling it to the locals (true story). he said he was now a professor and that life was good.

2.19.7 "back to school"
after a long streak of not remembering specific dreams, i had another back to school dream. but this time it was back to junior high. a reading class taught by mrs. hawtry, a teacher who came up in a recent convesation, and who i admired for her brains and niceness. it was wierd to sit in a desk and to study spelling lists. i was able to study for spelling because so much of the class was review. it was on technicality that i had to return to junior high, and i'm not even sure why it wasn't high school. seems something happened and i didn't officially "graduate." that was the gist of the dream, nothing fancy.

2.23.7 "fired"
working in the deli, while a conference call from the main lady to my co-workers took place i was preparing something and overheard that i was fired: "we'll let you stay on while we look for your replacement." i kept my head down and worked on while muttering "this is bullshit!"

2.27.7 "threefold anne dream"
starts as i am cleaning a garage for friends (a guy and a girl) to make room so a car can pull in further. there's an air of intrigue as i figure out the furnace downstairs that doesn't put out heat. a guy who is not one of my friends comes downstairs and asks what i'm doing. my impression of him isn't good, so i brush him off. but now i know i'm downstairs smoking weed. when i come upstairs i realize the guy is a neighbor and my friends are hanging with him in lawn chairs and a hammock. i'm stoned, so when i go over i try to pass it off... then somehow anne (german) is sitting next to me and as we're talking and holding eachother i have extremely real feelings of peace, love and happiness. at some point of intense conversation of how much we want to be together, we decide it's time for her to go. as we walk through the woods, 3 mystical creatures going the opposite direction tell us confusing advice (like it's their day off so enough with the mystical bullshit; the real deal) something like don't believe the tiger. we get to a door in the woods on the other side of a small chasm. the tiger approaches and says something confusing, and as i remember not to believe him i realize anne has already left.

"work in progress"

to old country espresso sips:
nobody expressly dips into Europe worship
lest cult-like transfixators – posed as
stately coma deemed traitors –
cater to vibrator phones (in which twitches
my love for Spanish women and toblerone).

if I swim in Atlantic’s currents electric enough
like the stuff mantis moms devour
(i.e. tantric turkey toms; an under the table hourly war waged with bombs)
forgotten burnt sage fantasies might power me from seas ashore:
jail cells and cages are ageless bores quantum
to the snail shell snores evolved from failed beached whales (like trees fell to axes).

what people ask is, “why taxes does?” and
“who got me whino off moonshine, cuz?”
while though these sunny Dutch pine trees ring blurred
subdued along sing-song exclamations of
“s’up dude?!” on the train line from Brussels
to Amsterdam; adages of how red light hustles incur damages.

I blunder in wonderment if wisdom tooth propensities
is dumb American pipe dreaming to find meaning extricated.

"H20"

i saw in the days a setting h-bomb haze getting closer to the line of when
gods decline. although godly men oddly amend our ways by depending on
constant variables to defend our okays against that whose contents may
explode upon high pressure: the measure of how un-ape we might be isn't a
ruler nor its peoples, dna sequences nor steeple frequencies.
boats on seas that float on air (this is a quote) beware for explosions to
resume their pace on their race to that other space opposite. and yet i stop
and shit just to watch it conclude: the photons that i once knew subdue
into the tepid hues of natal nocturnal clues - but way back before i had a
choice to choose. and slowly the light lowly bends my way into patterns of
cones and rods planted like drones of sod; i know just like the nod that it's
fine to resign to the rule of who i'll be then. or is it a definition i can?
the first shock comes in a wave and i sit and watch and try to behave because
now i can't think of a damn that i gave. apathy and me go way back, in fact
like taste buds for dud dreams to believe in. but i looked down my olfactory
portholes at poor souls who I couldn't adore, who needed something more than
the feeling of meaningless marijuana, because shit always gets done mañana.
five or six years later it's old days lost at the cost of sounding depressed
to confess that this is where i am: like a gem you wouldn't know by its glow.
plasma is like light spazzing before the fighting that it must to turn us
into dust. and however contrite the why's and cries we might feel compelled
to show and tell, it appears our fears is hell. and those apathy oh-wells
offer no quells to why in the end one can "just" to no end and still die.
this is nothing more than an H. and don't forget the hate that blew this
bomb to pieces, because peaces aren't possible when hostile missiles cross
right over like red rover. and although we all know we aint getting the
russel-stouffer's ending to this life, it might be kinda nice to think that
we're all just beautiful poetry in perpetuality; no good vs. bad duality that
creates the gates to keep the pets in and out. so let's just shout and burn
up to something more sublime in our own time like fine wine.

"a girl"

What drunk letters have I slurred
with you squinted beer bottle blurred
through brown tinted glass?
As I amass to tip-toe over the edge
in the manner sledgehammers do
you stammer truths across weeks of anticipation.
While Iowa sat in lost adulation
against rolling peaks of strato-cirrus serenity
you are the artistic entity
I oughta seriously resist to seek in my heart.

When you ask “what’s the matter”
is a punctured bladder
staining my pissed regret
for not waning to forget you.
But yet my desire to want inspires
ironic fires of ionic lightning
among neuron hiccups far-flung
in my brain: sightings of you still remain
(I can’t dump coffee grounds down the drain
without being jumped by feeling somewhat changed).

Here we are at that time of the year
I’d oppose my thumb to ride to
because you left to rove
while I drove a lot into sessions
of low-pressure tropical depressions.
I’ll blot out directional questions
into unequivocal glottal stoppings
all for the sake of mad hopping:
my inactions are abstractions easily forgotten as fake
so go ahead and take me at face.


"to september"

Crickets grating form a storm of Hitchcock chirping,
as I perch perturbing on pickets
half-hating the swarm of manic migrations.
Eccentric sparrows shoot with chasers
semi-sober coencentric arrows
like hallucinated tracers
around a not-yet-October harvest moon.
If not already, larva soon
will become butterflies in the skies
and make tries for Mexico to meet
their doomed instinct to go extinct.
All the while rank and file ghetto cornrows
shelter sweltered grasshoppers,
who hope like paupers for dope
that winter won’t come
um…'nope.
Instead they fall dead with leaves
leaving trees to their hibernatory
dreams of spring.

"solitude food"

ignore me in my strong state of mind.
already behind i hate the kind
i could be.
my adjacent gestures to
your recaltracent crazy eye hue
look deeply creepy when i think
the alergic growth and the sink is
metaphor for: who cares for real?
both of us know
what's fair: we conceal.
i grin at glares to the shagrin
paper-thin pride and such
is fragile to touch.
behind bars and gates
blind orange criminal dates
scare the shit a bit outta me.
this space equates clearly to
merely forgetful, tearfully you,
who,
can't constrain my scant brain
whose insane switch to left lanes
i duly remain grateful.

"un"

sweet and simple.
dirty and complex.
people come.
they leave.
they return.
the cycle is immense sadness.
the square root of happy.
alone in peace.
together in pieces.
cold fronts hit.
icicles puncture solitude.
deep does not exist.
meaning forgets.
warmth is an ant.
until we meet.

"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage."

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