Embodied anullment: ice it like a belly button in a dream-state land-gauge of the natives

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13 April 2019> Thing is, we dream every night, it's just a matter of waking up 2 rite them down. Last nite we had a foreboding feeling + looked up at this giant mtn range + there was a massive wave pouring over the top. At 1° every 1 panicked then we reallized "don't panic" + it wasn't so bad, we just sloshed around in puddles of water. There was lots more we don't remember, we just membered dat if we rote "embodied annullment" it'd summarize the dream, even tho it had nada to do w/ L sueño, unless u think of 'anullment' as nullified in a broader sense. Our bursitis bin acting up, to the extent it fx our sleep, probly from sitting at shitty hotel desks, leaning on our L-bows, transcribing these dam journels amongst udder things, or all dem boxes we humped back in Rome.... stiamo invecchiando! Anywaze, hear's an udder 2 yrs worth of dreams as soup du jour, then may-be wheel take a brake, or type w/ laptop on lap where hit belongs:

May 29, 1994 — (Custer, South Dakota)

I was sentenced to death. It made me think about things differently— like I ran into Patrick and he was all "what are you going to do with your rack?" [what climber call their collection of gear] I said, "never really thought about it, guess I'll give it to you"... but I didn't want to give it to Patrick, because he annoyed me. This beautiful woman was to carry out the execution. I kept thinking about running away and was trying to explain to her that it was only human nature, that I should try to run away, especially if I was going to watch her do it. So I told her to do it when I wasn't expecting it. She was doing things behind my back, like getting the gun loaded. I sat on the sidewalk staring away knowing I was going to die any second, and suddenly everything became really vivid and I really appreciated the smaller details—like color, just the concept of color was amazingly brilliant. Then I got into this last request mode, what had I got to lose? Telling this woman I wanted to have sex with her. She was reluctant when I asked, saying it was against the rules and such, but once again, knowing I had nothing to lose, I said "come on, just this once.” She took me to her place and told me to wait outside with the door open. I went after her and shut the door. She was all "okay, okay, but let me take a shower first.” And I started thinking "I want to die clean.” So we jumped in this warm pool of water and started taking off each others clothes and I was thinking if I could get my executioner to love me than she wouldn't kill me, so I was putting my all into it. We were holding our breath the whole time while we were doing it, and just as I was about to come, the point of view shifted, zoomed out and panned on this rattlesnake that looked like a cobra, and me and the woman were mice, and the snake caught us and swallowed us just as we were coming and we orgasmed the more so with the death, and the snake was shaking and convulsing having to contain such energy, the coiled hooded serpent like some sort of animist creator, destroyer. [turned into "The 'Thy Kingdom Come' Orbital" in Poste Restante], w/ corresponding imedges:]

Sept, 9, 1994 (Hill City, South Dakota)

I was coming from Mexico and stopped in some other European city. I was with Kevin. We stopped at some dock to fish. He had a rod, I just had a spool. He threw in a worm wrapped in tinfoil for me. My line was a mess. When I finally got it straightened out, there was a fish on, jumping about and all silvery. When I got him in, he was in the middle of the line, not at the end. I couldn't find an end to slide him to. Then we got a cheap room in a hotel. After vegging a while, I explored some doorways and found other rooms, and they seem inhabited and the stuff looked familiar, posters of Buddha and stuff that we realized was mom's stuff. Then Kevin had some friends over. He was speaking with a german accent. They left and he said he was going back to L.A. I was surprised as we had just gotten in from Mexico. And we'd discovered the hotel room was mom's rented flat. I walked him outside and there was mom's Ford Bronco. The doors were open and the keys were on the floor. We were near some railroad tracks in an industrial part of town. I started the car and left it in neutral because it had been sitting for so long. I started rolling up to Kevin who was walking. There were tracks everywhere and trains coming and cars on the train tracks and there were people everywhere on their way back from Woodstock, or something. An exodus of 'cool' people. Kevin kept walking with them near the car and didn't want to get in.

Kevin said to me, "You're like a holocaust. You can be so dark, and then again so light."

Sept. 15,1994 (Custer, South Dakota.)

There was a magnificent storm, the sky was black like a cauldron. I had this girlfriend that reminded me of Susanna [x]. I was kissing her and caressing her and she said "you were never like that before.” Somebody else was in the room and we were waiting for them to wake up and take a shower so we could get it on. But the bath was clogged up and flooded full of hair and grime. So I went for a walk along this body of water (large river) that was full of sticks so you couldn't see the surface. I threw a stone in, to part it, and it made a splash that was hollow like thunder and made the river seem like it had no bottom. I hopped over a marshy area to this island to check it out and I turned around and the river was rising, right before my eyes. I started jumping on the floating sticks and they would start sinking and I would jump on the next one, and the river kept rising, the shore growing as fast as I could run. Finally I made it to the bank and kept running, the incoming flooding tide chasing me. I got to a barbed wire fence with a sign that said 'Elsworth Air Force base'. I crawled under and into a bunker. Then I was at a tourist pullout that said 'Home—13 miles'. [used in "'Home,' as The Name of The Place in the Language of the Natives" in Poste Restante, accompanying imedge:]

Exhibit N. “Home” plate in the language of the natives


Oct. 3, 1994 (Hill City, South Dakota)

I was walking naked down university avenue in Tucson with a mattress on my head. My feet were deformed, ginger roots with nine toes. I was trying to find the right house.

Oct. 18, 1994 (Hill City, South Dakota)

I knew the balloons would roll into the street. But instead they were pigeons. The whole time dreaming that my dreams meant something. Déjà vu in a dream, dreaming dreams I've dreamt before, nothing in particular, like making spaghetti and getting paid to tune other people's guitars. Or that it was going to snow even though the weather man said it wouldn't.

Oct. 24, 1994 (Hill City, South Dakota)

I put up the foundation of this building and moved in before it was finished. I carried boxes of books from my truck. From the foundation I liked my room. It was spacious and had lots of cubby holes. I went into a bathroom and there were lots of guys in there and no available toilets. So I shat in my hand and started to eat it. It was warm and disgusting so I threw it in the urinal and escaped out the window as was usual procedure.

Oct. 25, 1994 (Hill City, South Dakota)

My bike didn't work because President Clinton (my stepfather) had cancer. I was on my way to school. Back in the garage I had a reliable YZ 80 minibike that I got from David. I went back and got the motorbike and stored the bike away, but couldn't figure out how to close the garage.

I was in this boat with Marit. We got a sign so we made quickly for a bigger boat as we started to go down these rapids. I controlled the little boat while she jumped in the big one. Then I leapt from the little boat just in the nick of time as it crashed into some rocks. We narrowly missed our exit and flew over a rock and landed on a piney bank.

Nov. 1, 1994  (Tucson, Arizona)

I was high on a mountain and there was cocaine in the water. I knew not to sniff it at such high altitudes but I did anyway and told the people I was with not to.

Then I was driving along in my truck with a girl that felt like a mixture between Adriana and Marit. The road was covered with a layer of ice so I slowed down. The car went into a spin and flew off the side of the road. No biggie. But this girl was walking on the other side of the road on a curve. This truck was coming and I could tell it wouldn't be able to stop in time. I yelled 'Marit!" even though it seemed more like Adriana. The truck flew over the embankment where she was. My heart dropped. I ran and jumped down the steep embankment, calling 'Marit!' and landed in this tree.

Nov. 7, 1994  (Quartzite, Arizona)

I saw Susanna dressed in furs arguing with somebody on a pay phone. The furs turned out to be these funky dogs with iridescent fur. Susanna was poshly dressed and very stressed out. We went to a bar and this guy was giving people shit so I just "removed him" and everyone thought I was tough.

Nov. 8, 1994  (Menlo Park, Calif.)

I was finding all sorts of climbing gear and weird sunglasses on this road that ran over big boulders. The glasses and the climbing gear would fall between the cracks of the boulders. Then I was going at it with Marit and she wanted me to use two condoms. I put a block of climbing chalk in the tip, also. I went out to this truck with a camper shell and Kevin's red 'Iron Oxide' sculpture with the bowling ball holes handle was there. I was supposes to get it on with the sculpture and Marit would feel it. But I just couldn't get aroused over styrofoam covered with toxic paint.

Nov. 19, 1994  (Nice, France)

I had sex with Sather, someone who I had never thought of in that way. That made it casual and nonchalant. I had a strange tangy bud on the left side of my tongue that tickled her.

Then I was at a basketball tournament with all walks of life dressed in street clothes. It turned into a sort of opera like festival with weird interactions. Bruce was there and he was wearing the giant head of a witch.

Nov. 20, 1994  (Nice, France)

We (?) were driving around in these dune buggies and there was one dip that was a lot of fun. They dropped me and somebody else off because they wanted to break the speed record. They went tearing off and another car was coming the other way. They flew high and over on to the top and crashed. We ran down and all there was left was this special compartment that were like brain batteries. The bodies were somewhere else.

We hitched a ride going back to the university of Arizona campus. It ends up the drivers who crashed were Jess Fanzo and Granini. I was crying. We weren't sure whether to stop at a hospital and put the battery brains back on the bodies. I was with people from the office of minority student affairs and they didn't know what to do. We stopped at the grocery store and got a case of canned asparagus and a case of coke.

Dec. 1, 1995  (Nice, France)

I was in a raft handing books to Rutger Hauer. The raft was tipping because they were physics books, they were heavier than usual and falling out of my hands.

A baby bald eagle flew by. I dropped what I was doing to look at it and expressed surprise, "that's only the second one I've ever seen. This one's young, the other one was really old and was losing his feathers.” No one cared. I asked anyone else if they'd ever seen a bald eagle and they said no.

Dec. 15, 1994  (Nice, France)

I was driving along in this foreign city and I saw mom on a bicycle cart delivering newspapers. I had no idea that she lived in this city or delivered newspapers. She had a canvas carrying case full of newspapers over her shoulder. Her bike was jack-knifed in the intersection, holding up traffic. She was sweating and flustered and trying to get the cart out of the way, but nobody would help her. [seeded "Inheriting Her Paper Route" in Poste Restante], w/ corresponding imedge:]

Exhibit K. Sub-suburban Parking Validation


Dec. 18  (Nice, France)

This teenage girl lived in the backyard of her house. She stays in the box until her stepmother leaves. Then she goes in the house and gets on her stepmothers polyester pants and wears them around, pants that she's normally critical of being uncool.

Feb. 15, 1995  (Axixic, Mexico)

I was flying really well. I had it down except I had to hold on to this board I had on my chest, and my style would have been perfected if I could tie the board on. I was swooping all over the place, and I cruised down low over a schoolyard where three kids were playing baseball just to give them a thrill. Before I had the utmost confidence that I wouldn't falter and could always take off and land at will. But I came too low and landed and the children  started chasing me and I couldn't take off.

I ran away and tried climbing things so I could jump and fly again. I climbed someone's portable veranda on their catering trailer, but they saw me and rolled it down. Then I ran through this marketplace where there was a bunch of people working on cars in a row. It was a mechanics school and the lesson of the day was on batteries. I climbed up on the roof and Roger was there. I knew the top shingle would be grounded, but I figured it would give me the necessary jolt to take off. It was only 12 volt. Roger was touching it for another reason. I said I hated doing it because it reminded me of going to the dentist as a kid.

He touched it and said, "yah, I see what you mean." I touched it then I was in a rental car with Kevin at this cabin that felt like it was mom's. We were driving to get firewood. He had the map and was giving me directions. He sent me down this wrong road. He stayed in the car while I got out to look and there was firewood all over the road. I yelled for him to help me pick it up, but he wouldn't because it wasn't from this place we were specified to go to. We drove on and stopped at this room on the roadside. They didn't serve anything and the room was empty. I saw cars drive by that looked familiar. A man came in the room and asked us for spare change. I gave him some, then he asked for more. I looked at him and said, "how did you get here? You must have a car and that's more than I have."

He just stared at me and Kevin and eventually said, "you know, you two remind me of this favorite lake of mine.” I double-taked to Kevin but he was ignoring the guy as crazy. I thought it was an interesting thing to say because I didn't understand it, and it made me think of things in a different light regardless. I looked back to the man for him to elaborate. He said, "you know," making casting motions, "this lake I go to fish all the time." [seeded "Between Us and Home" in Poste Restante], w/ corresponding imedge:]

Poste S. Amphibious Sublimation via the Feral Meridian Traverse


Feb. 16, 1995 — (Axixic, Mexico)

I was held up in this top security insane asylum. There was a girl in another ward I was fond of. She freaked out and started injecting the warden with needles and shooting blood at him, and they locked her away where I couldn't see her. Rather than freak out I played goodie 2-shoes to the warden. He took me out of the compound somewhere, and he started bragging about what a great jogger he was. We ran back to the compound and when we got there he said, "come on, let's keep going for a jog.” We were jogging through San Francisco and down near the ocean. There was this slanting rail that he liked to climb to see how far he could get. He told me to go first. I went and kept going past his high mark. He was struggling behind. We were getting high enough that you could get hurt falling from this far. I was trying to swing over the top and he grabbed my leg. I struggled and pulled me and him over. He was laying on the ground at the edge recovering. I threw something at him and it knocked him over the edge. I ran down and he was still alive, but messed up.

I started running. I ran the opposite way as mom's house because I knew they would look for me there. I was running along sea cliffs, running, running... and then I was up in these high mountains. I started sliding down this near vertical couloir. It was insane, like an action packed movie where you could feel the gravity. Sliding at terminal velocity, powder and debris in my wake, and in my face since I was going feet first. Kept going for thousands of feet. It was like a movie in that I knew what was going to happen. I went into freefall and then I knew I was headed for jagged rocks so I grabbed this ledge going by and ducked in just as the avalanche in my wake gushed by. I ducked into a system of ice tubes. I started running all through the ice tubes, until I came to these three workers. I asked them which way, and they hesitated, looking at eachother. "then they pointed a way that led to a little village," though they seemed reluctant to tell me. I guessed it was a set up. I ducked around the corner and waited. The warden was coming after me with a bazooka. He knew I was hiding around the corner and started shooting through the wall. I ran up this other tube that was no longer iced. It was all for the effect of capturing me. I started climbing up this steep tube when a steel door closed in front of me. I started going back down but another door closed. I felt completely claustrophobic and trapped. I had that movie feeling like you know the hero will get out of it, but this seemed hopeless. The workers had collaborated with the warden. I was in a thick walled tube with nothing. I could hear the warder asking for his grenade launcher. Then the upper door opened. The workers took pity on me. I climbing to the upper exit. I could hear the door below open and the warden with his grenade launcher. I pulled out just in the nick of time, and the worker was there cheering me on. He threw me a grenade launcher. I ran through more tubes firing at my wake. I came out onto a hill with another village below. Everyone in the town had walked to the outskirts and was cheering me on. They had banners and everything and it was like a run-a-thon. They had t-shirts and everything. I was a celebrity and I don't know what for.

Feb 16, 1995 — (Axixic, Mexico)

I was up in these mountains and there was people telemark skiing at high speeds, in and out of the snow. I followed this trail down (I had been here once before, running, and knew there was a bunch of military people staked out that I surprised.) This time one of them handed me his helmet to carry down. It was like I was in a trench. Another guy handed me a metal box that I didn't know what was in, but I dragged it down for him. I came to a turnstile at the bottom and I was out of the mexican jungle and in a city. I could see the guerillas up these steep jungly cliffs. There undercover military people below them throwing grenades at them. I was thinking "wow this is a real war.” I went to find my room

I was in Paris with Kevin and Roger. We were sitting on this street corner when we noticed there were prostitutes standing around us. These nerdy black guys came around, and instantly this big black pimp came along and told them to leave. They started jive talking and he punched them. Then the pimp asked us we were going to take the prostitutes. Roger and Kevin went off with them like it was their duty. I went back to the alley where the room was. (I had been there before with Elva and she wanted to have sex with me but she was covered baby powder and was really stocky.) 

I couldn't find the room. I knew it was something like 10 rue du Etats Unis. I asked some local men where the street was and they took me back and forth and shook their heads, "it was between these two streets. The street was just here yesterday, now it's gone. Where could've it gone to?” I found this casting agency, with all sorts of strange black people, one of which was auditioning for black Bart Simpson. Then I was in a fancy hotel with a view of the guerilla warfare. Then I was in a room what had Scandinavian flags painted on the walls, like a hostel for Swedes or Danish. One of these girl was sitting on the couch and she looked like Uma Thurman. She was giving me the eye. I was whistling. She said "isn't that... your whistling?” I ignored her, though I wished I would have found something to say.

I was still trying to find the room. I heard strange sounds emanating from this room. I went up to it and there was five girls dressed up as Sunflowers. They were all writhing. They had flowers where there crotches were and they were dilating. The girls were fingering their flowers, but seemed lost in their own world, like they were on a drug trip. One girl opened her eyes, she was a gorgeous swedish girl. She beckoned me to come over and wanted me to read this story. It was a handwritten book, I can't remember what it was about because this sunflower girl took my hand and put it on her 'flower'.

February 22, 1995—  Guanajuato, Mexico

I got this job working in a road construction crew and we were using our own bags to fill up holes. I was the only one really working, shoveling dirt, digging a trench, while the rest stood around watching. I didn't care, though. The exercise felt better than standing around.

March 25, 1995— Tucson

This old retired professor (Dr. Healey, except it was supposed to be a literature professor) came by to this weird apartment that Jess and I were sharing. I gave him a copy of my manuscript and he went out to read it in the car. Four hours later he returned with a huge carboard cut out model of a series of keys juxtaposed in a linear fashion. Then he handed me this hole and had me hold it. He drove the key straight on, but it wouldn't fit, it would only go in sideways. "It's effective he said, it just works in a roundabout way". I wanted to defend myself and say that it wasn't so much as what I was trying to convey as how, but I couldn't find the words. Somebody else was in the room (redhead Todd?) and asked the professor what the point of writing was anyway, what it's goal was. "To have people like it" said the professor.

Then he started browsing the bookshelves and I offered him a few books to read and told him there was more books in Jessica's room. He stopped to check out some books in the hall with Jess, while I went into her room. It was unfamiliar. There was an unmade bed with lots of pillows and down comforters. Above the bed were shelves of books. I just looked at the bed, it overwhelmed me with a sense of comfort. Instead of going back to the professor with some more books, I went out to Jess in the hall and told her I wanted to sleep with her that night.

March 31, 1995 — Tucson

I was driving an old car of mine (no one in particular) and the driver's seat started spinning around. It started spinning faster like a tornado and I jumped off. It kept spinning and came loose from the car and started wreaking havoc through the streets like the Tasmanian devil.

May 01, 1995— Chiricahuas

Okay, this is not much of a dream, but I haven't had a decent dream for almost two months now and I figure maybe if I get back into the habit of writing them down, they'll become more lucid. I was at this sort of  'We Are The World' concert for climbers. Some girl was behind me poking me in the sides. I kept turning around and telling her to stop but she kept bugging me. Finally I told her directly that she was annoying the fuck out of me and moved away. She followed me but I told some other people to take the seat next to me. Matt Touchet was on the stage playing trombone. Right in the middle of the set he yelled "Stoner's Boner!" into the microphone. People kind of looked at him strangely but he looked out into the audience and saw me and started yelling more names of classic climbs, "Walt Bailey, . . .” And he started cracking up and falling down with the microphone in his hand. Then the guy became Tom Richmond, still laughing like a drunk fool. I was the only one in the audience laughing, everyone else just thought he was an idiot. He did a stage dive into the audience.

June 15, 1994— Carvers, Nevada

This is not much of a dream, but I figured writing it down might break the not-remembering-my-dreams spell. I haven't remembered a coherent dream since, what, Last March in Mexico?

Anyway, we were surveying out of a boat (I went to find the end of the line and it was in salt water). The rest were on the other side of this bridge and had to send the line under. The current was running strong through the tunnel under the bridge (it felt like the hot spring coming from the center of the earth). I was waiting on the other side in a boat. I went to throw my boat on top of another boat and my back pack fell out. I couldn't see it until I dove under and opened my eyes in the salt water (once again like the hot spring feeling). I grabbed my pack just as it was floating away. I was trying to remember what else I had in the boat and whether it was all packed in my pack.

Later on I was trying to dig a hole and realized I forgot my geopick. (It's amazing how you start remembering details when you start writing it down). Like now, I'm starting to remember another scenario, walking through these dark medieval streets and I distinctly remember the sound of a horse clopping along and the change in pitch and tone as it went through a tunnel. I had my own room next to Kevin. He was in it when I walked up to it and it smelled like shit. I said "what did you do, take a shit?”

He said "yah, but I took it in my room". He left back to his room and I had to take a shit, and it was a really good feeling to know I had my own room and could smell it up and shit all I wanted to. Just then Kevin came back and a bunch of other people that worked in movies. They were just loitering around my room and I was waiting for them to leave so I could take a shit.

Wow, that in itself explains my anxiety about remembering dreams (taking shit = dreaming, movie people = me writing it down). And also, dropping the back pack (like taking a shit), and swimming under salt water to retrieve it, the salt water distorting and blurring my vision.

June 16

There was a woman who would whip people coming out of funerals and divorces because people liked abuse.

June 23, 1995— Carvers, Nevada

I was in some small town where I was going back to high school (I was the same age). I was with the stud of the school who was showing me the ropes, which basically meant he was showing me all the hot 18 year-olds. I needed to go to the bathroom and he told me to use the women's restroom, but I noticed that there was no one in the men's bathroom. So we went in there + then this cute blonde walks in and bellies up to the urinal next to us. At first we were laughing, but then she started to produce a pretty good stream, then she strained, and this condom she was squeezing broke and a big gob of chocolate-orange ice cream plopped in the urinal. The ammonia piss (mine was really cloudy) was reacting with the orange-chocolate ice cream giving off these nauseous fumes. Then the girl went over to a stall and yanked it open. Some crippled chinese old sage was on the toilet. She pulled him off with much effort and threw him to the floor. He was reading a tattered macrobiotic cook book. He wriggled on the floor in agony, bitching about the girl. I'm not sure what was wrong with him, he was like a leper, tips of appendages kept falling off of him. Then this studly guy took me to try out this new sport. You'd get down on your belly, with your hands behind, and slide head-first down these icy streams, like a boardless luge. Your head would come dangerously close to these protruding rocks and such at high speeds, but it was fun. Then we got to a section of mud. These guys had special aerodynamic suits, but I didn't. I just zipped up my cheapie rain jacket. I started cruising in these muddy ruts and taking all these forks and ended up in the far right one that had no water in it and hooked around. I was experimenting with different ways of propulsion, wriggling side to side, which seemed to work, but I don't remember them doing it. So I tried S-ing up and down like a dolphin, and that worked and I was going very fast. It was hard keeping your arms at your sides, but those were the rules. I flew out of a rut and in between, but olleyed back into a rut. A Suburban passed me with hefty longhairs. They had climbing ropes hanging out of the back, and at closer inspection, ice axes. They were headed for this snow-capped peak in front of us. We got to this parking area and the two guys I was with were already there. The stud-guy mentor, had already ordered milanesa and was cutting into it, saying "what took you so long?"

June 27, 1995 (12:07 a.m.) — Carvers, Nevada

(I guess this qualifies as dream—) I was sleeping in the 2073 Santa Cruz house. It was pretty much vacant and all the doors were open and so were all the windows. I was sleeping on a couch in the back hallway. I was aware (though I was sleeping) that Martha was walking around in the dark with Cesar (he was like 5 years old— back in the days when she was going out with David.)  I knew about this for a while, but was too lazy to wake up. Finally I heard tip-toeing toward me, calling softly. I knew out of consideration of her discomfort at feeling awkward finding a place for her and Cesar to sleep, I should wake up and show her where to sleep. So I figured I'd pretend to wake up (I was supposed to already be awake since I could detect her presence.)  But it was impossible. I tried and tried but my body had this heavy solid feeling, like my veins were full of concrete. I managed to sit up (feeling self-conscious thinking Martha was there). It was like there were demons controlling my hands and the more I tried to come to consciousness, the more I was overwhelmed by this all-pervading numbifying buzz. I finally could see she wasn't there after all, that I had been dreaming all along, and I could just sit and just enjoy the almost sleepwalking effect. The high, buzzing feeling like I was overwhelmed by ghostly spirits, sitting in the back bedroom on the white futon, with curtains blowing through the windows. I knew I was sleep walking, though I wasn't walking, and that if I got up and started walking then I'd be sleepwalking (I had this sense that that was a dangerous thing to do, venturing into the world without full faculty of your senses) I was complacent to just sit upright and enjoy this numbing, ghostly high. Just as a limb that has fallen asleep finally comes too, so did I. And in actuality, this whole thing was a dream and I woke up in the jumping jack hotel in Carvers, Nevada— thoroughly confused as to my surroundings, and disoriented to the fact that it was only an hour after I had fallen asleep. My head is still buzzing and I think it was from eating a whole jar of planter peanuts for dinner (MSG). Shit, why do people give MSG such a bad rap? It's basically a drug, a dream enhancer that makes dreams 'solid', albeit it does give you that dehydrated headache feeling. Nevertheless, I expect to have more dreams tonight, especially if I eat one of those squishy bananas to boot—

July 1, 1995— Carvers

I was applying for a job in this hospital. The lady who was doing the interview's was totally gorgeous. I was waiting around afterwards, can't remember whether I got the job or not, but I was listening to this guy bitch about how he didn't get this position and they gave it to this less qualified person. The woman comes out to take a shower. I am reading magazines in the waiting room. She's on the cover of one. She's telling me about how this guy took her pictures while she was nude sunbathing and sent them in "I am glad he thinks I have a beautiful body and all, but..." I was looking at the spread, a bunch of shots of her naked. She was perfect. I was trying to look at her finger to see if she was married. She had no self-confidence, "yah, well maybe people think I have a beautiful body, but up here (she pointed to her head)—lobotomy". I knew she was fishing for compliments, but I couldn't believe she was fishing from me.
     "But you're a doctor..." I said, casually flipping through her nude photograph layout. She went into the shower.
     Then we were at the airport waiting to leave. These guys next to me were talking about the weather (it was cold and rainy), and were asking me how it compared to the California coast. And I started saying that the whole Pacific coast has the same weather, that it's not seasonal, and said "it depended on the tides, so I guess that could be seasonal". Then I was wondering why they were asking me to compare it to the California coast. So I say "this is a shock compared to where I was last" and for the life of me I couldn't remember where I was last.
     "Where were you last?" they asked. I was preoccupied with the woman in front of me, knowing I would never see her again.
     "Shit, I can't remember the name, not Hong Kong, but that other country that is just like a city,... Gallipoli.”
     "Ah, Gallipoli, did you see (such and such museum)"
     "No, I just got off the plane and walked around.” And I couldn't remember how the subject came about but We were ready to board this bus and I knew I would never see her again. The guys saw me eyeing her (one of them kind of became Bruce) and they said, "watch, she'll find an excuse to repack her bag."
     Sure enough she looked around all flustered, then muttered something about needing to take some things out of her carry-on. She got out of line and I watched her, thinking it was too obvious. So I jumped out of line, to follow her. But then she looked back at me like who is this creep following me. I asked her if she needed help with her bag, and she kept walking, avoiding me. Then I missed my flight.

July 3, 1995— Tucson

I was sharing a flat with Kevin in some European City. Going back to it, he had left the key in it, and it was bent. I went in expecting my powerbook not to be there but it was. Opened the windows to let the draft in and these two dogs we had started running around on the red tile roofs. At first I was worried, but then I figured they'd learn not to fall off or  run away. Kevin had been living there for a while and had already staked his area out on a lawn under a tree. I was walking around trying to find my own spot. I knew the garden would be cool, sleeping on ground level, but there was a sign saying you couldn't pitch a tent because they were reseeding. Besides that there was the kitchen and living room and porches and terraces with vague boundaries with the neighboring establishments. I wasn't sure where I could put my bed and call it my room.

September 1, 1995— Tucson

I had the option of moving into Dad's house in Oregon. I could stay in whatever room I wanted, rent-free. I was thinking it would be cool to stay in Kevin's room. There was nothing to do in Portland, so I got a ski pass and went skiing every weekend. Dreams of skiing, into hallways with curtains, trying to find the right elevator.

Sept. 8, 1995 — Tucson

I was playing with these two boxer dogs and was jealous because they would always play with eachother really rough, biting each others muzzles and what not, but they were always gentle with me. Then we were running along the beach and I decided to go swimming and I started getting sucked into this undertow into the waves. There was a gross "smell", almost toxic, that was emanating from a can of fish, and I was being pulled towards it no matter how hard I tried to get away.

September 9, 1995 — Tucson

This is a dream that turned into a brainstorm as I was waking up. Now I can't distinguish what I made up and what I dreamt—There's these two brothers that live on an island. There's a dozen or so families on the other side of the island. Their father is the medicine man/witch doctor. One of the sons is the only one on the island who speaks English. Their sole connection to the outside world is when a boat from New Zealand comes once a month to trade supplies for coconuts. That's all that grows on the island, and all the space on the island is taken. One brother is innovative and thinks maybe they can sell seafood, but they have no refrigeration. The older brother tries to convince him to just be content on the island, that they have everything they need. Every year a typhoon hits and all they can do is tie themselves to trees and their houses and possessions get swept away. One day the younger son finds a pearl. The New Zealanders give him next to nothing for it, but he lies and says he has more, he can see their eyes light up. So he goes out and scours the reef for oysters, finding none. He finally makes the connection between the cut and the sand and stuff the boats and tides bring through and dives there, finding pearls.

Enter the Adelaar story, the lady getting away from the man and boy purposely crashes the boat onto the reef and burns it. She feigns amnesia, losing all remembrance of her past world. The two brothers are on the reef "hunting octopus" when they see her. They bring her back to their hut and they're dad, the witch doctor takes her in. She milks him for his "spiritual" power (she has reviled all men), she walks on fire. The brothers know that there father is being pussy-whipped, although the older (fat) brother wants her as a wife, and the younger (skinny) one is hoping to have her fall in love with him so she can take him away. And since every dog will have its day, she steps on a stonefish (actually maybe she does this as escapes her burning boat,  She wants all memories burned so she takes off all her clothes). The father and sons fix her up a la Threshold Wound [novella we never published]. (She aborts a fetus.)  (Maybe fire-walk afterward as a cleansing thing). The younger brother gives her a string of pearls. A boat comes and she hides and they want to hide her. They build her a pit in the sand. She spies on the coming and going of the boat. They interrogate the older brother about some burnt wood they found drifting in the sea and the absence of three people. They say nothing. But when she starts to corrupt the island and make the brothers, father and other islanders quarrel, the older brother turns her in when the next boat comes. But not after she is pregnant with the younger (skinny) brother's child (rape?)

They take her back to New Zealand. The younger brother follows in a dugout canoe, through the cut, the waves get bigger and bigger. The woman jumps off the boat.

An alternative is that the NZ boat comes and there's a Typhoon coming so they decide to wait it out on the island, tying themselves to trees. They anchor down the boat as good as possible. The woman is still in the ground and she reveals herself. The younger son jumps down to grab her and ties her to a tree. When the typhoon is over all is gone except the people and trees.

Sept. 18, 1995 — Tucson

This kid was playing near a mineshaft and fell in. He fell about ten feet down and got caught up on this beam. Jeff and David went to try to get him out. I went running as fast as I could for a length of rope. I got back to a cliff above them and threw the rope down to them and ran around down. They said they needed a small length of rope (like a foot long) and I couldn't figure out why. I thought we'd just tie the rope around someone's waist and they would climb down and grab the kid and climb out (or be pulled out). I volunteered. It wasn't that hard. All I had to do was crawl down and hold the kid and someone grabbed him and pulled him out.

In turned into a sort of rebirthing ritual for a baby of Jeff and Ñandu. My job was to stand near the door and keep this dog out until this priest gave me the okay, then I would whistle to it and say okay, and it would run in. The baby was rebirthed and they let it walk over Ñandu. She was groaning loudly. Afterwards there was festivities that included playing team Yahtzee (me and David were a team). There was a tank of goldfish that started with two, and then there was a full, overcrowded tank of fish of different sizes, generations, in a uniform family tree order.

October 3, 1995 — Tucson

I was going to get milk at Whitney Portal. There was a lot of traffic and I was in this tunnel with an intersection. Right as I got through the intersection I noticed a cute little bear approaching me. He wasn't afraid, I thought he might attack me. I skirted around him, but then he started following me. I tried to scare him off, but he thought I was playing. He knew I was getting milk and wanted some. I gave up on the milk and Mt. Whitney and decided to take him to the ranger station and ask if I could make him a pet.

The night before I dreamt about a coyote. I remember petting his fur up close. The next day a coyote crossed our path out by Silverbell. It was just like in "The Making of Red Sleeves" in that I had just gotten out to get through the cattle gates.

October 18, 1995 — Tucson

I was at this party with Jess and a bunch of people. I was about to leave when I saw a sort of cousin of hers come up the steps to the party. So I accompanied her up the steps and we were spying on Jess to surprise her. She got all mad at me and told me to leave. These bouncers (one of them was Brian Grass) at the door were getting rid of all the "uncool" people, they shoved them all out then closed these glass doors on them. I was still inside so I said "hey you forgot about me". They opened the door and shoved me down a flight of stairs. I wasn't hurt at all but I limped up and said I was going to sue. They didn't listen to me so I bashed their heads against a table.

I left with no shoes. It was a cold European city. I was looking for warm little nooks to sleep. I rat clung to my finger and I had to bash it to the wall to get it to release. It left teeth marks on my hand. I got to this canal that I had to wade across before. I didn't want to get wet because then I would have had to sleep wet and get cold. Then this black guy came along and showed me this way to traverse out along this stairwell and step across to a wall and travers more. I went and did it and it was fun like climbing. I said, "I wish I had found this earlier, I love climbing.” I showed him a new way to get across. It was fun and exposed. When we got across, his family was over there. They offered me some diapers to wear and I said sure out of politeness. I went to put them on and realized I wasn't wet. I threw them away, but was then self-conscious that they would notice I wasn't wearing them under my boxers. The diapers were in a bundle with some cool shorts and socks that fell out. They were really cool, the shorts, and I was hoping they wouldn't notice they were missing. But the black guy came over and put them on. Then I got a root beer or something and everyone was wondering how I could drink such old stale root beer, but I didn't even notice.

November 12, 1995— Tucson

First I had a dream that I was at a restaurant with Jess, she went up to go to the bathroom and never came back. Then I dreamt that she was coming back, she was gone out of town. This friend of hers kept wanting me to come over, but I knew she wanted to seduce me and resisted. Bruce was talking to Brian and I was observing. He was talking about how Frank Stafford creates these so called "Stafford metaphors" then creates this regular story and then substitutes all the metaphors afterwards. "Ice it like a belly button" —was the word Bruce (my dream version) used.

November 27, 1995 — Tucson

There was this big abandoned tower. I was part of a group that decided to take it over. We snuck in at night and climbed the skeleton of what was left. Three of us made it to the top. It was like the top of a crane with a statue on top. This one guy was supposed to get up there and attach himself by his underwear. I'd seen pictures before, it was comic, kind of like Homer Simpson. He was supposed to scream and get attention. Who knows what the cause was, damn college students. I was as high as he was, our heads were over the top of the statue. Who knows what the statue was, unforeseen metaphor. The police saw us. We scrambled down. That was the idea, to get arrested. But I had this instinct to hide. I knew this place they'd never find me. But would I betray my comrades? They were all filing out of the abandoned building. In the end I filed in with them, though I didn't feel good about it.

We were going to go night diving. We had a purpose, I don't know what. But it wasn't just to observe, thought that's why I was along. I was scared, and kept saying things like "wouldn't it be cool to see a shark at night?"

December 1, 1995 — Tucson

I was with Brian Corn and Gary and we went by to sell this guy drugs. I was just along for the ride. The guy went to get his boss, this big scary biker guy. He was holding a cigarette that was almost poking my eye out and I barked at him to watch it. He started bellying up to Brian with his big pot belly, saying— "I hear you owe our boss money for the last drugs.” Scary biker types getting belligerent. I managed to get away, but when I came back, Brian was beaten to a pulp. It was like he had it coming. I was left with this terrible feeling.

Dec. 3, 1995 — 1995

I was body surfing on a boogie board. The waves were big and it was a lot of fun. This laser thing was coming out of the sky. It was burning a hole through the atmosphere. Suddenly it just went black, there was an eclipse. I had known about it, I just forgot. I was wondering if the waves would suddenly be bigger since the moon and sun were aligned. I feared a tidal wave and caught the next wave in. The seas were receding and it was hard catching a wave to shore. I ran up on the beach to join Jess in watching the eclipse. It suddenly got all dusty and we couldn't see very well. There was a lot of people on the beach and all the commotion caused a cloud of dust to appear and cloud up the sky. Every once in a while the sky would clear up and it was beautiful. The sky was like a metallic dark grey. The laser was still burning through the sky and down to us.

December 22, 1995 — Las Vegas

I was befriended at a new restaurant by this man that reminded me of the guy that runs Tork's. He was the owner and sat at the table with us while we ate. I was in some small town like Ajijic and was with Jeff and David. I woke up the next day and remembered something weird happening, that the restaurant owner was this evil skeleton that jumped into the suit of his body. His mother was behind the whole conspiracy as well. But he killed my sister and tried to make me forget about it. I was asking Jeff about it, whether he remembers having a sister and it seemed like he was in on the whole conspiracy to make me think I never had a sister. I couldn't figure out whether I had dreamt it or not.

[1996 dream log]

635 <( current)>  637 > Stool sample reveils a calf-birthing secret agent cooking up crawdad jumble-liar w/snake charm 
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