I would dearly like a day removed from reality, removed from linear time––just the capsule of my bedroom transplanted to the forested mountain wilds. A pile of books around my bedside table and pillows, some black licorice for snacking, and giant windows looking onto a universe where there are no people: that's what I long for. The evening would call for a thick, knit sweater and a crackling fire.
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
14 January 2015
16 June 2014
20 September 2011
whirlwind in my brain every time I sleep
Last night–or rather this morning sometime after waking up starving at 2:30 a.m., eating toast and reading for two hours (Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens) and crawling back into bed to marvel at how I'd forgotten thunder can be R E A L L Y R E A L L Y L O U D–I had a dream that I was going to be crowned Miss North Dakota. Only they checked with me first to see if I'd actually accept even though it seems I'd competed in this pageant of my own free will (Meaning no disrespect to pageants, it's just, well, me. My perverse sense of humor answers black lipstick and fake nose ring to the question of pageant). We can realize this means that even in my dream they knew my erratic history of conforming to society. I think they wanted to save their faces and mine by confirming this outcome beforehand in case I took the public moment as a soapbox on how factory farming of livestock and agribusiness contribute more than television to the dwindling of our culture, intelligence, and character as a nation; or expound upon my current moratorium against reading news of domestic politics; or for fear that I would show up as Zombie Miss North Dakota.
I thought about what it would mean to accept the crown of Miss North Dakota and I knew it could only mean one thing: appearing on national television in a swim suit.
I declined and I'm sure they went off to surprise another, more deserving young lady but I woke up.
04 August 2010
the totem broke
P.S. There was originally the thought of giving you more of an explanation on why I lead you into these disillusioned ideas I have about dreams but such explanations seemed paltry. Enjoy this bit of melodrama with my regards (I say that self-effacingly and it spoils the mood).
Tonight as you lay you down to sleep you have two choices. The choice to not dream was already taken away from you, some horrible part of your subconscious took that way from you a long time ago. Probably at birth. You wish you could just become entirely immersed in oblivion everytime you sleep. You wish that desperately.
No, your choices are between a good dream or a bad dream.
The kind of bad where you seem to be pulled along a course you would rather not choose but every choice you make brings you back to this same slippery course. You can't stop being evil. Guilt fills up you with your fate bound hands. You can't hold on to anything or anyone. You tried that trick where you have a good thing mentally tucked away that will surface in a nightmare and save you from the downward, trapped journey. Your good thing surfaced and was taken away by whatever it is that holds dominion in your subconscious.
So just get this clear, it's all going to go wrong and not everyone will wake-up. Not in your head.
Or the kind of good that's full of all the things you don't dare to wish for. Every star has aligned and God smiled down and placed a crown of delicate flowers gently, lovingly on your head. Everything that needs to be said is being said by all the right people. And they won't go away anymore. No one's leaving here, they're all coming back. And then you wake up and the depression hits.
Tell me if you have to choose which one will it be?
And tell me if you're treasuring something right now almost like a good dream what do you do when you wake up?
love,
Marge
Tonight as you lay you down to sleep you have two choices. The choice to not dream was already taken away from you, some horrible part of your subconscious took that way from you a long time ago. Probably at birth. You wish you could just become entirely immersed in oblivion everytime you sleep. You wish that desperately.
No, your choices are between a good dream or a bad dream.
The kind of bad where you seem to be pulled along a course you would rather not choose but every choice you make brings you back to this same slippery course. You can't stop being evil. Guilt fills up you with your fate bound hands. You can't hold on to anything or anyone. You tried that trick where you have a good thing mentally tucked away that will surface in a nightmare and save you from the downward, trapped journey. Your good thing surfaced and was taken away by whatever it is that holds dominion in your subconscious.
So just get this clear, it's all going to go wrong and not everyone will wake-up. Not in your head.
Or the kind of good that's full of all the things you don't dare to wish for. Every star has aligned and God smiled down and placed a crown of delicate flowers gently, lovingly on your head. Everything that needs to be said is being said by all the right people. And they won't go away anymore. No one's leaving here, they're all coming back. And then you wake up and the depression hits.
Tell me if you have to choose which one will it be?
And tell me if you're treasuring something right now almost like a good dream what do you do when you wake up?
23 July 2010
whelmed
Last night the Mexico City Benito Juarez airport came back to me in my dreams. It felt foreign. Which is a word I’m still not sure I understand.
Anyway, I’m home now. Traveling is still so very appetizing and alluring to me. I don’t think I can stay away from it long.
But.
I have this feeling that I am not accustomed to. My general nature is to spend large quantities of time alone with space to do what I please. But now all I want is to see all of you. I feel how much I love you and need you.
May we set up a tent in that beautiful soft, grassy, non-allergenic field over there? A beautiful white pavilion tent and we will all lay out our soft mattresses and wrap ourselves in handmade quilts and down comforters as we look around and smile at ourselves and enjoy how great we all are together.
Anyway, I’m home now. Traveling is still so very appetizing and alluring to me. I don’t think I can stay away from it long.
But.
I have this feeling that I am not accustomed to. My general nature is to spend large quantities of time alone with space to do what I please. But now all I want is to see all of you. I feel how much I love you and need you.
May we set up a tent in that beautiful soft, grassy, non-allergenic field over there? A beautiful white pavilion tent and we will all lay out our soft mattresses and wrap ourselves in handmade quilts and down comforters as we look around and smile at ourselves and enjoy how great we all are together.
24 February 2010
yet to dream a picture I've drawn but...
I keep going back to this picture on the sartorialist and thinking, marry me? please?
Recent dreams:
A dream that was a bus commercial.
A dream that ended in an exploding pizza.
Recent dreams:
A dream that was a bus commercial.
A dream that ended in an exploding pizza.
15 February 2010
an unvarnished carbon copied spill of my dream
Well, I was tired an hour ago. Wish things like that weren't so fleeting.
And oddly enough, all I want to do right now is listen to Linda Ronstadt. You know, that album my sister and I always used to interpretive dance to when we were little? Yeah.
I have yet to have whimsical Bill Peet dreams. Nope, instead they are still an amalgum of the small town I grew up in and the university town I habitate now. Odd realistic, surrealist, final cut filtered dreams. Hier soir, or slightly more phonetically, ee-air swar (last night), there was a 52 year old looking man who was in love with me. He owned a rustic restaurant full of lots of unvarnished dark wood and he didn't think I could ever love him back because of our fourteen year age difference (that's why I'm guessing he only looked 52). While I used to be drawn to older men (I mean late twenties mostly) (they were so cool because they were in bands and were so wise about the world) this attraction has waned as I've gotten older (probably because now that I am kind of in adulthood I'm less desperate to be treated like a super-mature person). But the attraction hadn't waned in this dream. We were sitting at bar stools in his daytime-empty restaurant and his wrinkled, five o'clock shadowed face hinted he loved me but had no hope of reciprocation and I said he shouldn't be too hard on his stubbled self the fourteen years weren't a problem it was that I wanted to be married in the temple. Actually, I believe I used the words, "I want someone with whom I can have a covenant marriage." So we held hands for a moment of silence at the bar stools.
But I had to go to the bathroom.
So I went to Vector Field Harris's who had a house on Central Avenue by the high school administration building and the public library were mi madre works.
VFH had bathrooms in her house but the bathrooms were like shacks
of rustic dark unvarnished wood
full of people
and bunkbeds.
Balancing on bunkbeds and porta-potty holes and ignoring the people in the room was very precarious.
Then I woke up because I had to go to the bathroom fo reelz.
And oddly enough, all I want to do right now is listen to Linda Ronstadt. You know, that album my sister and I always used to interpretive dance to when we were little? Yeah.
I have yet to have whimsical Bill Peet dreams. Nope, instead they are still an amalgum of the small town I grew up in and the university town I habitate now. Odd realistic, surrealist, final cut filtered dreams. Hier soir, or slightly more phonetically, ee-air swar (last night), there was a 52 year old looking man who was in love with me. He owned a rustic restaurant full of lots of unvarnished dark wood and he didn't think I could ever love him back because of our fourteen year age difference (that's why I'm guessing he only looked 52). While I used to be drawn to older men (I mean late twenties mostly) (they were so cool because they were in bands and were so wise about the world) this attraction has waned as I've gotten older (probably because now that I am kind of in adulthood I'm less desperate to be treated like a super-mature person). But the attraction hadn't waned in this dream. We were sitting at bar stools in his daytime-empty restaurant and his wrinkled, five o'clock shadowed face hinted he loved me but had no hope of reciprocation and I said he shouldn't be too hard on his stubbled self the fourteen years weren't a problem it was that I wanted to be married in the temple. Actually, I believe I used the words, "I want someone with whom I can have a covenant marriage." So we held hands for a moment of silence at the bar stools.But I had to go to the bathroom.
So I went to Vector Field Harris's who had a house on Central Avenue by the high school administration building and the public library were mi madre works.
VFH had bathrooms in her house but the bathrooms were like shacks
of rustic dark unvarnished wood
full of people
and bunkbeds.
Balancing on bunkbeds and porta-potty holes and ignoring the people in the room was very precarious.
Then I woke up because I had to go to the bathroom fo reelz.
13 February 2010
bark and barometrics
Drove across the Golden Gate Bridge.
And realized a childhood dream.
I went to a forest with really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really tall trees.
Redwoods.
Palo Colorado.
THE FUTURE WILL BRING
SOME OF LES PHOTOS.
probably.
They were like the trees in my dinosaur book. But I could not find any triceratops. I pretended to be a brontosaurus, Yanka was a giraffe.
They were like the trees I read about in elementary school science books, the books that spurred excitement and wonder. It was in third grade science that I set my sights on a trip to the redwoods.
Science
is
amazing.
When I was nine my mom and I found instructions on how to make a barometer. With just the simple bits we had around the house we put together a homemade atmospheric pressure telling gadget. That was the coolest thing ever.
Drove back over the Golden Gate Bridge.
And realized a childhood dream.
I went to a forest with really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really tall trees.
Redwoods.
Palo Colorado.
THE FUTURE WILL BRING
SOME OF LES PHOTOS.
probably.
They were like the trees in my dinosaur book. But I could not find any triceratops. I pretended to be a brontosaurus, Yanka was a giraffe.
They were like the trees I read about in elementary school science books, the books that spurred excitement and wonder. It was in third grade science that I set my sights on a trip to the redwoods.
Science
is
amazing.
When I was nine my mom and I found instructions on how to make a barometer. With just the simple bits we had around the house we put together a homemade atmospheric pressure telling gadget. That was the coolest thing ever.
Drove back over the Golden Gate Bridge.
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