February 19, 2016
I'm in a lush hotel room with my wife's lover and his billionaire family. The room is filled with large, velvet sofas and wing-back chairs; the velvet is blood red. I'm anxious about my wife spending the night in her lover's room. I get a clear sense from her that she still loves me and I have a chance of preventing the consumation of her relationship with this man. I'm convinced that if my parents were to die, this would distract her away from him. So I try to find a phone--my plan is to call my folks and fake their deaths. But I never reach them.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Friday, March 7, 2014
March 4th, 2014: In Ukraine
I am in Ukraine, possibly Kiev.
A young, female college student from the U.S. is speaking to the Ukrainian people. She says, "You must fight against this aggression, even if it means your defeat. If you resist now, you'll be remembered forever for having done the right thing." She's not very inspiring and has that idealism so common in undergrads.
I am now in a shopping mall in Ukraine. Protesters in dirty clothes mill about. Water runs down the walls in several places. The walls are stained a dark, reddish brown where the water runs down them. The place is a ruin, but was clearly once a popular and trendy place.
February 5th, 2014: Exploding Eagles
The sky is overcast.
High tension wires stretch across my view of the gray-white sheet of sky overhead.
A Bald Eagle flies toward the point where one high tension wire connects to a tower. The wire is looped just after the clamp that holds it taut. The eagle flies into the loop and explodes in a blinding flash of metallic white. A few singed feather parts fall from the scene.
Another eagle meets the same fate.
And another.
Thomas Edison appears in the sky--only from the shoulders up. He's enormous. An over voice tells the history of the exploding eagles and how Edison saved them by creating a new coil that did not harm them when they flew into it.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
January 28th, 2014
I'm in a kitchen.
It's long and narrow. The style is 70s: fake brick walls.
May aunt is kneading dough. She has two clumps: one is white and gelatinous, the other looks like regular bread dough.
I ask her what she's doing and she explains she's making bread with deer fat. The white, gelatinous clump is the deer fat. She's making deer fat bread from a deer my cousin (her son) recently hunted down.
I look to my left. I can see into the living room. The deer is sprawled out on the couch--its hind legs stretched back. It's breathing rapidly. I see a wound on its right side--the wound is oozing a dark red/brown fluid.
My cousin enters the living room (where I am now standing), rubbing lotion into his hands. I ask him, "How long before you can kill the deer?" I feel horribly sad for the beast.
"Soon, but I gotta' keep 'em alive for now. I get the best juice out of 'em when they're still alive."
Suddenly the deer lurches to its feet and hobbles toward me. It continues on into the kitchen. I feel very strongly that this deer needs to be put out of its misery.
It's long and narrow. The style is 70s: fake brick walls.
May aunt is kneading dough. She has two clumps: one is white and gelatinous, the other looks like regular bread dough.
I ask her what she's doing and she explains she's making bread with deer fat. The white, gelatinous clump is the deer fat. She's making deer fat bread from a deer my cousin (her son) recently hunted down.
I look to my left. I can see into the living room. The deer is sprawled out on the couch--its hind legs stretched back. It's breathing rapidly. I see a wound on its right side--the wound is oozing a dark red/brown fluid.
My cousin enters the living room (where I am now standing), rubbing lotion into his hands. I ask him, "How long before you can kill the deer?" I feel horribly sad for the beast.
"Soon, but I gotta' keep 'em alive for now. I get the best juice out of 'em when they're still alive."
Suddenly the deer lurches to its feet and hobbles toward me. It continues on into the kitchen. I feel very strongly that this deer needs to be put out of its misery.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
January 3, 2014
I am at the Cherry Hill Mall in NJ. The mall has been merged with a hospital. I am walking through a large, open atrium; the floor is covered in white tile. As I near a section of offices, I leave the atrium and enter a hallway that is still quite large. Cobalt blue and white tiles cover the floor now. As I pass an office with an open door (on my left), a man inside beckons me to come in. He is wearing a light brown suit, and appears to be in his late sixties or early seventies. His skin has a light yellow tinge, he is slightly overweight, and his hair is a small white, untrimmed shrub. He and I discuss my job / career. I tell him about some of my frustrations and he encourages me to ignore what is not important, but to be true to myself. The phone rings and he answers it. He has a booming voice. I move to get up, but he gestures for me to stay. When he hangs up the phone, we discuss a few more things and then I leave.
In the hallway, I see a sign with symbols for male and female restrooms. I walk to the end of the hallway, where another hallway runs perpendicular to the one I was just in. Directly ahead of me, and extending the length of the new hallway, are enormous windows that let in a blinding amount of light. I'm still looking for the restroom, though. I turn back into the previous hallway and see a person open a door that has a special lock on it (one that requires a pass-card). I grab the door just before it closes and enter the room. This is the restroom I've been looking for...
I'm now walking through a new section of the facility. In a bright, large room I see a professor who has been working with my wife on a book on Langston Hughes. He seems preoccupied and when I approach him, he looks at me with squinted eyes and wrinkled brow, "I don't have time right now. Let's talk another day," he says and passes.
I am now in the hospital wing, which is also open and very bright. I want to leave, but for some reason I head toward the elevators. There is an open space where the elevators should be. There are several large squares of cobalt blue tiles arranged in rows on the floor. I step onto one. A black man steps partially onto the same square. The square begins moving down and the man becomes confused. The square stops moving and a person in a white gown approaches and asks us if we know how to ride in an elevator. The black man laughs and says something about this being unlike any elevator he's ever seen. The white-gowned person helps him to get onto the platform with me, and the elevator continues to move down...
I am leaving the hospital wing and headed back through the hallway with offices. As I pass the brown-suited man's office, he gestures for me to come in. When I enter, he holds up a multi-colored bathrobe that belongs to me. He wants to return it to me. I also ask him if it would be okay for us to chat some more. He says, "Sure. How about over a drink?" I agree to meet him in the cafeteria, which is in the large atrium.
In the atrium, I find a cafeteria sectioned off by ropes. An awning covers part of the seating area, which consists of round tables and chairs. I order a pizza for myself and join the man in the brown suit. He has my robe and returns it to me.
In the hallway, I see a sign with symbols for male and female restrooms. I walk to the end of the hallway, where another hallway runs perpendicular to the one I was just in. Directly ahead of me, and extending the length of the new hallway, are enormous windows that let in a blinding amount of light. I'm still looking for the restroom, though. I turn back into the previous hallway and see a person open a door that has a special lock on it (one that requires a pass-card). I grab the door just before it closes and enter the room. This is the restroom I've been looking for...
I'm now walking through a new section of the facility. In a bright, large room I see a professor who has been working with my wife on a book on Langston Hughes. He seems preoccupied and when I approach him, he looks at me with squinted eyes and wrinkled brow, "I don't have time right now. Let's talk another day," he says and passes.
I am now in the hospital wing, which is also open and very bright. I want to leave, but for some reason I head toward the elevators. There is an open space where the elevators should be. There are several large squares of cobalt blue tiles arranged in rows on the floor. I step onto one. A black man steps partially onto the same square. The square begins moving down and the man becomes confused. The square stops moving and a person in a white gown approaches and asks us if we know how to ride in an elevator. The black man laughs and says something about this being unlike any elevator he's ever seen. The white-gowned person helps him to get onto the platform with me, and the elevator continues to move down...
I am leaving the hospital wing and headed back through the hallway with offices. As I pass the brown-suited man's office, he gestures for me to come in. When I enter, he holds up a multi-colored bathrobe that belongs to me. He wants to return it to me. I also ask him if it would be okay for us to chat some more. He says, "Sure. How about over a drink?" I agree to meet him in the cafeteria, which is in the large atrium.
In the atrium, I find a cafeteria sectioned off by ropes. An awning covers part of the seating area, which consists of round tables and chairs. I order a pizza for myself and join the man in the brown suit. He has my robe and returns it to me.
January 1, 2014 (first dream of the new year)
I'm in a nondescript room looking in a mirror. Several large blisters are clustered on my left cheek; six large abscesses are aligned in two neat rows on my right cheek. Other people are with me--I do not recognize them, but they are there to comfort me and prepare me for the public (for the day). I apply a white ointment to my face and the people in the room with me reassure me everything will be fine.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
May 27th, 2013
Living in cramped quarters with hundreds (perhaps thousands) of refugees. We reside in a tall building, probably 30 stories high. At first, it is not clear to me from where we are seeking refuge. As the days pass, we sense that the folks who live on the upper floors (where there are far fewer people and therefore much more space) are conspiring against us.
One day, some folks from the top floors come through the lower floors and force us to leave our possessions and our tiny homes (some of which are in the stairwells). When we resist, they become brutal toward us, shoving, pushing, and beating us forward, up the stairs to the top floors.
When we reach the upper floors, it becomes clear that the folks who live there are holding us captive. I approach one man who is dressed in a gray business suit. He appears uneasy in our presence. I begin shouting at him and he cowers, putting his arms over his head as if to ward off my blows--though I'm not hitting him. I believe he is trying to deny that his people are holding the rest of us captive, and so I shout the truth at him and he seems deeply disturbed.
Others come to his rescue--they pull me away from him.
A person from the lower floors approaches me and shows me how to sneak out of the building. Once outside, we find ourselves in a Chinese marketplace. There, I learn that the year is 1966, that we're Jewish prisoners held by Nazis who escaped at the end of WWII. No one knows we're being held in a skyscraper.
Suddenly I am inside a pure white room in nearby building. I am not physically present, but I am able to view what's happening as though I am in the room.
A black man appears. He's dressed in a button-down yellow shirt and a black tie. He sits at a bright white table and plugs in his laptop. A sign on the table reads, "World News." Other journalists appear and sit at other tables in the room.
One begins talking to the group about how he suspects that a band of Nazis are holding a large group of Jews captive. The others point out how crazy that sounds, but he is undeterred and simply says he needs to find evidence.
At that point I realize we'll be saved.
Living in cramped quarters with hundreds (perhaps thousands) of refugees. We reside in a tall building, probably 30 stories high. At first, it is not clear to me from where we are seeking refuge. As the days pass, we sense that the folks who live on the upper floors (where there are far fewer people and therefore much more space) are conspiring against us.
One day, some folks from the top floors come through the lower floors and force us to leave our possessions and our tiny homes (some of which are in the stairwells). When we resist, they become brutal toward us, shoving, pushing, and beating us forward, up the stairs to the top floors.
When we reach the upper floors, it becomes clear that the folks who live there are holding us captive. I approach one man who is dressed in a gray business suit. He appears uneasy in our presence. I begin shouting at him and he cowers, putting his arms over his head as if to ward off my blows--though I'm not hitting him. I believe he is trying to deny that his people are holding the rest of us captive, and so I shout the truth at him and he seems deeply disturbed.
Others come to his rescue--they pull me away from him.
A person from the lower floors approaches me and shows me how to sneak out of the building. Once outside, we find ourselves in a Chinese marketplace. There, I learn that the year is 1966, that we're Jewish prisoners held by Nazis who escaped at the end of WWII. No one knows we're being held in a skyscraper.
Suddenly I am inside a pure white room in nearby building. I am not physically present, but I am able to view what's happening as though I am in the room.
A black man appears. He's dressed in a button-down yellow shirt and a black tie. He sits at a bright white table and plugs in his laptop. A sign on the table reads, "World News." Other journalists appear and sit at other tables in the room.
One begins talking to the group about how he suspects that a band of Nazis are holding a large group of Jews captive. The others point out how crazy that sounds, but he is undeterred and simply says he needs to find evidence.
At that point I realize we'll be saved.
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