memorable dreams
note to dave: add years or take out dates all together?
all museum photos by de
Bread and Puppet Theatre Museum, Glover, Vermont
I drift thru dreams about space- not outer space but the space allotted to me here on earth- i watch the movie "Tokyo" by the director, Ozu, and realize that the Japanese, and how many others in the world- do not have the space I do!
In my dreams I am usually nervous, anxious, cautious, worried, paranoid- seldom relaxed or calm. I note that my dreams seem to be my poetry now- the only spot where my life is poetic- as opposed to when I was young and had more energy- the energy to create. Now I only have the energy to edit.
I note in a Newsweek article about dreams in 2004 one person’s thot that dreams might be like the waste disposal for thought the way we shit, piss and perspire. Sounds possible.
From a documentary on Carlos Castenada- “Nothing happens in ordinary life until it’s dreamed. Trees and animals dream; dreaming prepares us for death.” (reminds of Wild's "Life imitates art").
Themes interweave in dreams like Wagner motifs- like a boat on wheels plunging down inner city allies, so narrow one can feel the leaves as one brushes through them (mystery of the old roads explored as a child in Vermont?) . Themes recur (and in order, somewhat of importance or recurrence): jobs or an issue related to the job, travel, in a car or train- sometimes down rivers, sometimes flying, old places I’ve lived in, new dwellings be it St. Paul St., Ellerslie Ave., moving between them, trying to find routes thru unfamiliar neighborhoods (like Gun Hill Rd, in the Bronx?), especially being stuck or trapped at the parents house or in the old or the ineffective like when I was depressed, having missed out on something- need to retrace steps- can’t go back, must accept as it is, the farm in Pa., not close relatives like mom, pop or Louise or Cathy much- just not being able to move forward! The theme of not being prepared is common- as morning of 7/15/09- I am to conduct a Gilbert and Sullivan and arrive at the podium with a rather large audience behind me and a large array of musicians in front to face a score with no time signature!!
Doesn’t seem to be much humor in dreams- dreams are usually humorless (except the one I had w Jesus in it?)- they are often sort of "sour". But sometimes it’s as if my brain were entertaining me? Or, I'm trying to work out problems in the dream- sometimes, going obsessively over worries- I’m usually glad to wake up. Dreams are messy, disorganised. They morph and shift gears wierdly.
My dreams often seem to want to give me trouble- they are troubled- they set up an obstacle course...4/20/9-I have parked it seems a long way from the jail and my work place and must walk a mile at least- some one else is with me-there is construction everywhere- new roads and buildings being built- we must stp around and up and over- there is dirt in heaps, etc. At the end a portly gentleman joins us and I can't figure out- is this an unfriendly, boss figure?
two dreams (what date?- before ’95, before my breakdown- still with O.A.R.): these two seemed more significant than usual, they reminded me of the "reveal code" in the computer, showing the undercurrents of my thinking which have importance, not just the rational, glib, untroubled over currents. In another sense, the undercurrents are just irrational ventilations. They have that sour, desolate, negative quality dreams so often have. I seldom had positive dreams, joyful dreams...maybe some of my soaring dreams (but even in those I might get caught up in the eaves or rafters like I did in that one dream where I was up in the ceiling at Severance Hall at Oberlin College while the chorus went on singing without me far beneath me on the floor below; my wings flapped tangledly (sic), there was no way up and out, no window half open to sunlight!) Or maybe some of my wet dreams were positive. In general I find dreams to be unpleasant- they are more the brain working out its problems or ventilating or just free associating than they are something to be desired.
In the one dream I am at an Offender Aid and Restoration (OAR) Board meeting or Annual Meeting or Delegate Assembly giving a report. The President of my board, Jay Levenson, approaches me at one point to whisper confidentially in my ear that before I finish he has something he wants me to include. Before I finish he comes up again and tells me that Aaron (a coworker of Vicky's who does not go to O.A.R. meetings) (a laid back black guy, particularly sensuous), Aaron says that it would be a good time for me to take the piece of cotton out of my ears. This is a shame dream, for the cotton I put in one ear of one of my OCD devices- to make things quieter, to allow me to focus without distraction- a kind of practical device that has become routinized to the point where I have to incorporate it in ANY important meeting.. it becomes a ritual.
Underneath these rituals I am still very concerned with what people think of me and that this works against the rituals, for I realize that there must be times when they become apparent and I look bad! People have mentioned to me from time to time, "do you know that you have a piece of white stuff in your ear?" I had put a bit of cotton in one ear because noise in the workplace always bothered me, again, the practical application morphed into a ritual--that is, I came to find it mandatory to put the cotton in, especially before an important meeting. It was like beetle's protective coloring/or his putting twigs on the carapace/ back in a disguise apparatus; or as Kafka's groundhog so assiduously tends his burrow entrances and exits against any enemy attack- i.d. paranoia!
Like a segue in music, the dream goes on to a second dream (I am reminded of Wagner's leit motifs in dreams in general). I am at a family gathering. The family is Louise's (my ex wife's). Cathy and Chris, my girl friend and son, are nowhere to be seen. Louise's parents are saying that they have found, arranged to be purchased or purchased for Louise and David (her new husband) a condo out at
As the dream continues everyone seems to be waiting for me to say something, as if they know I want to. I say, "Could you speak louder, I can't hear you", it's as if they have been murmuring conspiratorily (but I can hear them clearly). At this point Louise, off to the side, is playing the piano (I had forgotten that she had an interest in the piano), showing some little kidly how to play (but L was never that good). It's as if she's trying to drown me out. The parents go on in the dream to state that the Presbyterian church has helped in their effort and that they also looked at
I am dismayed at these dreams. They mock me so to speak, shifting the facts around, putting me in an unpleasant light. The one suggests I still want to be with Louise although I'm very happy with Cathy! Or is it just saying, the hurt with Louise dies hard? Or am I concerned that Cathy is not as close to me as she used to be, because she did not spend last night at my place? The dream has me competing with Louise and her wealth. In the light of day, both dreams seem "far fetched". (This was before Cathy and I moved in together).
My brother, Tim writes, "your dreams are pointing out things about you not so much relevant to Cathy and Louise say- but some internal struggle where money represents something (dad sure played well with money but Dave doesn't?), or, like the dream suggests, you need to care for your mom- (guilt perhaps that she's got to go into a nursing home and you can't save her?)"
Another dream: (I have recently given a couple of readings with Phil Berrigan); I'm at a poetry reading but, on a "remote" hook up I can hear Father Berrigan addressing a huge crowd of college students. He is being very well received. I go there. Phil's daughter is assisting him in some way and sits on a stool to his side. She is attractive and sexily dressed. Some other assistant comes over to me (since I am in a balcony she actually floats! over to me) and gives me a sexy, full kiss. I think she pushes her breasts in my face. Is this saying Phil's path is something I should follow? Or that I have chosen a different, more sensual path?
The dreams have their ridiculous side, but something about them suggests some unfinished work, material I have yet to deal with to move on, material to ventilate, to sort through. Is the brain just spewing forth these connections to get rid of them? as if sweating? Or is the brain composing its own music with its own set of Wagnerian style leit-motifs; certain motifs have a great deal of significance to me- money, my relationships, what others think of me, my obsessive-compulsive behavior motifs are surfacing and playing out.
Thank God for the light of day! But- I realize that one day- there will be neither light of day nor dreams at night!!!!!
Tim again, "what a fascinating battleground got played out in us children of mom and dad with religion, sexuality, gender, personality types, etc., given their backgrounds and needs."
Tim's path is to pursue grace, i.e.- "God's kingdom showing the truth of our dreams and our realities and it's everywhere if we can just get et unclogged enough to recognize (Jesus thus "the
I have kept a diary of my dreams since about 1995.
If I could be said to be sailing the open seas on weekends during the day, evenings I descend into a mine, sometimes productive and other times not. If too soused I may not remember the dream; I have the feeling of having dreamed- I know I have- and yet can't remember the details. But many of my dreams have been so potent, I just have to include them.
Bread and Puppet Theatre Museum
Labor Day, Sept. 2004- one of my more meaningful dreams…
A sphinx stares at me thoughtfully.
Who am I?
A puzzle, like working down through the mah jong squares, only to run into the message, “Sorry, no moves left available”.
The computer makes spitting noises, there is a train in the distance (isn’t there always).
A recurring nightmare-I am in a Central Booking type of building (where I worked around 2000)- a huge, two block long edifice, except this one has a central atrium style large room with a central elevator ( like the motel/hotel I stayed at in
There is a band playing of people dressed in midevil costumes- playing recorders and with floppy jester hats (the ones with the limp “horns”) at the central atrium elevator doors.
I know where all the bathrooms are on all the floors and am explaining to this guy where one is- “down by the parking garage”.
I cannot find my desk- where it used to me (there have been times at the Jail when one had to move and wonder a lot where one would be placed) - I feel uncomfortable- I go down the long stairs looking for a bathroom- at the bottom I find one but it is odd architecturally- interlocking squares- as in Escher.
I go to the center atrium where I will sit and read (reading is “something to do”- I can be defined by reading as I was at prep school. I will be safe hiding behind a book). The room I find is a sort of fancy waiting room- for the judges? Should I sit on one of the leather sofas. I remember walking, walking through the courthouse- trying to avoid some meeting or other. What is it about that courthouse (Courthouse East, the “old Post Office”-110 N. Calvert St.- so much of importance in my life has occurred there!- my blood pouring trial, my taking the city Civil Service test I had to pass, my meeting with Tom Kirk as I was breaking down and would have to leave the job when C found my sexual pecadillo books in the basement).
I am/ have been defined by what I do- by my work. How important was the time of my depression when I was adrift- but I also have a feeling of my bother’s death- of the “abyss” at the end of it all. I can learn from these two experiences.
Am I not a poet? Don’t forget that!!
Am I a chameleon?
To be is to work? Laborare est orare? To pray is to be? I am a monk?
Am I the person who lies next to Cathy? A house painter? (I have been painting outside). The questions come to me like those on Gauguin’s painting- Who are we, where are we going? Or Munch’s “Between the bed and the mirror”- a self portrait in old age where he unflinchingly awaits his death.
For now, let me “do the right thing”.
Dreaming seems, as I recently read, the brain’s cleaning up, or going over the key motifs as one might caress stitches.
We are able to reason but can’t figure out who we are and then we die. Unbelievable!
Cath reminds me the next day that it is the time of year that school is starting. Is my brain wired to think of
In some dreams I have been able to chat with famous people (unfortunately- since it is my brain making up these dreams I can report no new information- as tantalizing as they may be as to indicating other worlds- dreams rehash stuff you already know!): for example:
Jesus! Dream of 12/7/? dream 1- some one is attacking government files - I run to take part- following Cathy (why her?)- there is a ladder up- cut to coverage of the action I am watching in a fancy (hotel? Office?) lobby – then I am on a press bus going to the action Dream 2-dreaming w humor- a night at the funnies? I am watching a soccer game w two good teams- world class- an important game but field is surrounded by shacks w mountains in the distance- turns out this match is taking place in Peru- Lima? Then, I am playing- I make many good plays… Dream morphs to ancient
10/4/'09- The more I ponder this- the more I see it to mean- I have maybe 20 more years. I have spent my life as a clown, always chasing others- other people, other ideas- I know I have depth- let me plunge and see what comes to greet me- rather than always going forward to greet- as would "a clown".
Bread and Puppet Theatre Museum
Wm. Blake
10/25/08....at one point he rushes up into the black heavens and tears off some as if it were starry fabric (Orion is back in the morning night sky in Baltimore these days- I watch it every morning)-he comes back and lays it out like a big banner- it has a star in the middle with some bars around it (like the flag) u.s. blues, reds?
I ask him what did he mean by that line about the universe in a grain of sand was there a whole another small universe inside-and he asks me back a riddly kind of question-did I know the word Akhnaten? (Tut’s sun worshipping father)? Cute- as if that was all I needed to know-
We go behind a kind of wall of fabric- like Cristo’s- and I make a smart remark to him- “Now we will see some of the artist’s tricks”- I think he will find that amusing.
Next he is strolling with a couple of other guys- (like we did in London with our Blake tour) also he has left me a sheet of paper with a note at the bottom to give to some one (I pick it up off the floor?) and I turn it over and notice that he has covered the whole back side with writing and I am amazed and delighted at my good fortune (me the autograph collector) - I decide to join him and the other guys (although he hasn’t been very talkative)- maybe I will glean some fascinating conversation- then I lose them in the crowd and also the piece of paper which I had put in a program (like the one I brought home recently after seeing the Bernstein “Mass”) I am in a crowd but I find it
He looks like kind of a cross between Napoleon and Bob Clark- my old friend who took lsd- dream ends.
Rimsky-Korsakov A comic? positive? a nice dream, for a change: I am touring Rimsky-Korsakov's house (it's sort of like Evergreen House here in Bread and Puppet Theatre museum Dream of 7/1- of a monster- alien- some other dreams in 7/5- only fragments remembered: I have spoken to Rimski, Jesus- some very important personages in my dreams…but I seldom remember what they say or it was very commonplace like, “Pass the butter”. Bob Dylan 
3/21- Speaking of Dylans: I dream that I am able to go up close to the stage of a Bob Dylan concert- “Do you want to meet him?”, some one asks during a break- “Sure”. I talk to him; I ask him for an autograph, he seems reluctant- I say- “Just give me your address then, I’ll write you”. One of the other band members starts to say “Wood”, I guess meaning “
Phil Berrigan
5/18- several wonderful (quasi baroque) dreams last night: I listened to Bach Cantata 2 and 3 before I went to bed- in first dream, I am listening to a beautiful performance of the B Minor Mass- it is on a DVD- I think it was being acted out (or was it the St. M Passion which I saw acted out at BAM in Brooklyn ?) but it was very well done- like my John Eliot Gardiner DVD- at the end Mary Beth Marsden, local WMAR news anchorwoman and wife of friend who used to be in chorus and is C and my stock brocker, Mark McGrath, bursts in and says it was her DVD- she had gotten it from, of all people, Tom Daschle (Dem. Sen. From N. Dakota); 2nd dream relaters to work I think...I am in a sort of lava tube- floating down an underground river (on inner tubes?)- the "floating down rivers is a recurring dream motif)- how are there some kids coming the other way (or passing us) and, when they don’t answer my question, I grab one and we sort of wrestle, to ask, how far is the exit?- an exit appears leading upwards- sort of like those tunnels they have in the Holland Tunnel that lead up? –(at least they had them in that film with Sylvester Stallone); dream 3- (I got a phone call earlier in the evening from the Sunpapers- they want to print my letter re the Iraq War) in the dream Phil Berrigan tells me, “Don’t write about the war yet, I’m getting a position paper together….”, dream 4- best one of all- just before I get up- between 4 and 5 AM- these dreams must not take up much time as they occur in the brain?- I dream I am at Phil’s funeral- which I was- but the church is not like St. Peter Claver’s- it is more like a stadium- with pews going up steeply banked- a woman falls down one of the long sets of steep stairs ( stairs are another "motif" in my dreams, as is flying, the house on Ellerslie, the house on Hadley Sq., the farm) and I sort of float down the stairs to help her- she has fallen in a little pile of sand and is OK- we talk- I have my good, new suit on and, a hat?- my folks are going to attend and I spend some time finding out it there is an elevator because I am sitting in a balcony- it turns out there is a rickey one, hard to get to- the pulpit seems high up- a kind of dias- behind it sits a row of Plow Shares actors- one of whom is Tom Lewis- naturally- but they are smoking cigarettes!- one seems to have a sort of ornate (Mayan?) green, floral headress, which morphs wonderfully into a large paper mache fish! Like the ones in Chinese parades?- it is a hippy- guerilla, Bread and Puppet Theatre kind of thing- the fish- has it changed into a kindly dragon, like Puff? leans over a tree that is rather tall for an in church shrub- picks off an apple and drops it on the head of a giant who is playing the part of the War God- Mars- decked out in Roman legion outfit- he is acting (as in Spark skits) the fool- the stupid general- he starts to cut one of the branches off the tree- next we focus in the dream on where I am sitting-a camera crew approaches- are they going to interview me? I don’t feel ready- I take off my hat (too bourgeois)- or are they showing one of the many peace “murals” hung up behind me and around the church- then the service is over? People seem to be exiting and I hear the theme of Fafner’s welling up (and beautifully sung)- from Wagner’s “Siegfried”- I make an insouciant joke, calling out, “What’s for breakfast, Fafner?”
Then I wake up! Was I hungry? This dream tops them all, as far as I can remember.
William Kunstler
2009- We are on a train together- going thr the west- at one point se see a bear- at another a great coiling (why does the brain do this?) pile of manure which I speculate on must b from an elk? K (whomn I have met) is telling me about the "Chicago 7" trial- how great the meals prepared by the hippy volunteer women were. (?) A book has just come out written by K's 2 daughters.
Black Mtn. seminal dream
In one of my worst nightmare, I dreamt that, having climbed a mountain during the day, it was actually
I notice that as I grow older, dreams are not nightmares in the classic sense of something horrible happening- they are nightmares in the sense that they are tinged with, insinuated with loss- for example the loss of Cathy or the loss of job - it’s not like some one comes up in the dream and says “You’re fired” or that the dream has a scene where Cathy runs away with Paco. One senses something horrible in my dreams.
The climb was an exorcism. I saw that
Oberlin registrar's office (orifice? ) dreams
Cathy has dreams also- but, she says, she doesn’t remember them. Is this because I am more obsessive? Dream of 7/5/2002. I think I’ve had something like this dream before. It is the “dream of curricula”. I am at Oberlin- I have been there for a good part of the semester when I realize that I am not attending all the classes I am supposed to. I go to a registrar. She is going over the location of the courses I should have been attending; I can almost remember what were the subjects. She has the mien of a stern, what-have-we-got-here, a mien of an authority type person- a person who is upset or dismayed with my lack of progress. I realize that I may have to stay for part of an extra year to finish. There are others in line and I am embarrasses to hold them up. The dream ends as I step to the side to let a few of them take care of their business. Upon waking, I remember that, yes, I had switched out of chemistry at Oberlin, realizing that it just wasn’t my “cup of tea”. But was that switching symbolic? Is this a dream about not pleasing the father?
Where were the happier dreams? Well, sometimes I dreamed I was flying, soaring, and weren't these happy dreams?, except when I was the bird (see above) caught up in the musty V under some attic roof or in the one dream up in the eaves of Severance Hall at Oberlin College, trying but unable to get out (I think that the chorus was underneath me singing as I flapped miserably about).
Another Oberlin dream- dreams of 8/20 week: one I've had before: I'm at college (Oberlin) and am engaged in many activities but for some reason have not been going to basic classes- by now in the year it is too late to join and catch up- is the class that I have been missing in Government?, Chemistry?- I will have to go to the Registrar's office just to find the room numbers- this dream seems to be some kind of guilt dream- that I am not doing something that I'm supposed to; what is it? because I am away (at the farm) this week, is it taking care of Chris? is it that I am reminded of college by the dorm style sleeping we do at the farm? am I supposed to be a minister like my brother? in my father's eyes? I do not think that it is any of these things- but what is it that nags at me?
I came to think that I had a lot of Oberlin dreams possibly because my brain was going through some kind of change at that time- not that it was that crucial of a time- but it was crucial “amongst the synapses.” Is that feasible- need to ask a what would the word be?
a couple of dreams; week of 8/27/01: another of the back at Oberlin dreams- this time reporting to the kitchen for work in some fashion; 2) a dream inspired by horror movies- some one (is it a skeleton?) is holding up a backbone with rib cage attached; the rib cage flexes as if flying, as if alive; it flies towards another skeleton that is lying on its back- it attacks- it attacks the area of the skeleton lying down at its genitals- there is a great scurry as the bones scatter everywhere- all is lost, all is truly dead. I fear the influence of that dreadful film of Clive Barker’s here- “Hellraiser”.
7/29/9- I finally make it to the bursar's? office at Obie- a young man who is behind the counter sort of jokes with me- am I having a Thoreau type moment and have to leave school to go to the woods- to meditate? I am allowed upstairs to see Ms. ?- supposedly very understanding- she seems to be running a kind of chatzcke shop- or plant shop- is going around arranging things- I sit down and start to mumble about classes missed, a feeling that I did not attend some classes and would have to make them up (which never happened at Oberlin! as far as I can remember- gradually a morph into the scene that there are other chairs facing this woman and other folks are sitting in them- listening to me- I ask is there a private room to which we can repair? Dream ends. Again, my brain must have been going through important changes at this time. But actually all I did at Oberlin was carouse and have a good time!
Traveling without wheels or tracks dreams (lack of direction?)
2 dreams- this morning (10/1): we are on a subway car or train car with no windows. The conductor or fare collector let's us go up to ride on the top so we can see! It's fascinating watching the landscape comes towards us and at one point we go under a bridge which is one of those erector set trestles and have to lie down so that the top most braces don't hit us. At another point we're at night. We notice that as the ground comes speeding towards us- that in places there are no tracks- one place we go out over water and the rail way is very junky w no tracks- at other places there is only one rail on one side of the track. We descend down into the car and the dream ends as we have come to a station? and have a long discussion w the conductor as to why there are no tracks. He says there are tracks. We say we thought that trains had metal wheels that fit on tracks. He implies that the wheels are rubber. He turns to some engineers who are also having a meal- is it breakfast? They are laughing. They begin discussing the fine points with us. This dream could have to do with the coming war and the lack of a leader but I think it has more to do with my interpretation of the reality - the future- coming towards me.
The other night I dreamt that I had caught some fish and as I held up the line with the fish they morphed into a bunch of dogs with hooks in their backs and the lines like leashes! What is my mind coming to? The influence of that dreadfully powerful horror film- “Hellraiser” part II. Must google Clive B- whatever has happened to him? has he been eaten alive by a serial killer like Jeff Dahmer? Will let you know! His films put forth some of the most potent images.
Penus obsession dreams
Bread and Puppet Theatre Museum
Dream of 3/ 13 or 24- a dream worthy of Dali- giant sea slugs- the erasure of memory- my foot has been hurting- right toes- gout most likely- too much cooking sherry, alcohol, rich foods- first dream (not the Dali dream (but aren’t they all?) is of some kind of event-is it a funeral? I am to read my poetry- my parents are sitting before me, looking up expectantly-I will please them?-I have definite poems in mind but can’t remember which upon awakening-I go to find the first one- long pause as I shuffle- I can’t find it!- well, I admit it- will go on to another- can’t find that one either- shuffling the pages seems endless- finally, I must sit down-people gasp (in shame? No- I have been honest- I admit I can’t find them)- this is a dream of fear of forgetting, of alzheimers? Of losing one’s mind? Is it the effect of the ibuprophen (sp?) I took for my foot?
2nd Dali dream happens in the ghettoes of Baltimore-I have walked for some time down an alley/boulevard in the abandoned, boarded up area of town- street is overgrown- ivy on cobble stones-yards with many catalpas- that strange southern tree (is this its northernmost reach?)- at the end of my walk down the alley I can see City Hall in the distance, bathed in its lights-I want to go back- I feel lonely- back to where my brother! Is working on his sculpture!- I know I will feel better once I’m back with family-I was a poet I am feeling, an artist who no longer composes-I am thinking Mahler but even more I get a strong feeling of Poe!-I reach the “warehouse”, but, it has morphed into a fish market!- like the Lexington Market- Faidley’s- (he even had muskrats)- earlier, on Sat. , a program on the radio that mentions an early English scientist (geologist?) who made a practice out of eating strange animals- had eaten sea slugs (found that the one that tasted the worst was the common garden mole)-anyway- this is a busy market with shell fish (like horseshoe crabs?) the meat taken out- the shells flopping about-the meat is neatly bottled on shelves-a group of men are pushing a large sea creature- it is the size of a civil war submarine- torpedo shaped (or a turd?)-like a papaya cut in half- with writhing feet, it sort of goes where the men are pushing it-- like a starfish-they are pushing it towards a flat bed truck where another of its species lies, wrapped-probably, I am thinking, the Asians eat little bits of it like shark fin or in soups- but this is so large- what is it, I ask a foreman who looks kind of like a lumberjack- a “crum”- he answers- “they live in the canyons”- more like a giant sea slug, I think- there are some other giants lying nearby- big bud like mussels- giants, also
I wake up missing Cathy- go to get her- after this dream I get a strong feeling of Chris- how desolate must his life be?-mine is full of meaning, but his?- this is sad, although the dream does not feel that horrible or menacing.
Sea slug a phallic symbol?
I feel I have been selected, but for what?
dream of morning of 10/23- obviously a dream about my dick- I am taking a bath, there is a fish in the bath water- I play with it- I hold it out of the water and realize it is dying- Chris enters the dream- did I show it to him? at one point it fights back, extending its limbs like wings like the flying fish have- I realize- it can bite- it flaps towards me. I know what these fears are about.
Nightmare dreams
Bread and Puppet Theatre Museum
Dream of 8/30- a nightmare: The state is framing me- relating to my job at the Jail- they are claiming that I have had weekenders (I am in charge of persons sentenced to weekends at the Jail)- to do work in my neighborhood that would benefit me personally- filling in pot holes on the road and such; it seems some one in O.A.R. has testified against me- I am being barred from my office which turns out to be in the old Eastern High Sch. building (which was across from where I used to live on Ellerslie Ave.)- a sort of brusque man reminiscent of the FBI is leading me out and at one point he drops the maroon bag I use as a brief case- down the side of the building from quite a height- my brain seems to go merrily along creating this stuff independently -now I will have to defend- get a lawyer- I will fight- it’s me against the state again- or, I worry in the dream- will I be helpless again as I was when I was depressed-this dream uses detains from the past such as when I had to testify against Tim Wilton who had done something for weekenders if they paid him and reminiscent of the whole bounty hunter Wade Adams affair that involved OAR at the Jail when I was on trial and, also, the recent dismissal of the Commissioner here at the Jail and the fact that they are probing his spending- which touched on me in that I had to do invoices for our entertainment.
Dream of 2/ 14 or so- another horror dream- now dead brother Jonathan and me driving cars around in a swimming pool (typical dream juxtaposition) and his car turns over! (in another dream Chris goes under water)- I want to help him but seem oddly paralyzed to do it- is it that I go to get help when I should just dive in and pull him out? On the evening of 2/15 I watch a movie- “The Ring”- and it jolts me into a consideration of dream images- of important human things- death, madness. I think of my son, Chris, when he was 19 or so away at Fordham losing his mind. I did not know- what could I more have done? Rushed to his side. But I wouldn’t have known what was wrong. I should have known. Then, I would not have known what to do, even if I had figured out that he was undergoing the onset of schizophrenia. Thank God that he did not end up in some asylum like the one in this movie- or the one in “Hell Raiser” Part 2. The images in “The Ring” are so dream like- so evocative- horses, ladders, water, lighthouses, endless rain- the images on the fearful video that kills are evocative- an autumnal tree, the customary flies or maggots coming out of something dead- the cylinder on the end of a long string that the heroine pulls out of her mouth- the stone well- the corpse of Samarra (a demon?) that collapses into decay when the heroine pulls it out of the water-just like the corpse of the woman in the back of the car as it is lifterd out of the water in the movie “Ghost Story”.
I think of my own depression- I think of my brother two days before he died- how he looked- that fixed wild stare- these things that humans do not- do not want to talk about. All is so shallow. Out life is indeed a ghost story- as we hang out for a bit, as Auden says, on a wind whipped cornice over the void.
inadequacy dream of 9/7/9- I am sharing a small, dorm style room with some wonderfully smooth prep boy- shades of Mt. Hermon. shades of J David Petersen of Bill Stevenson- two beautiful guys I admired- and am getting ready for the big dance! Also, it turns out, I must go see a new house I may buy and may have to make the decision today. "Wear those nice shoes", some adviser says! I fumble in the closet for my good suit- the closet is shared by me and the jock style boy- I can't find the suit. I start to lace up the shoes, but must start from scratch, and the laces are incredibly long- thin like vermecelli or thread. The girl I am to go up with is a stunner- an Ekaterina Gordeyeva type- I am apprehensive- what if I stumble and make verbal jaffes?!? I am glad to wake up from this one and have the thought- well, at least I had a date with such a creature. How did I manage that. Of course, all my close lady friends HAVE been stunners. At least they stunned my ass.
