12/1/00:

Too busy with shoot to record dreams.

12/2/00:

Scary horror movie dream, not a nightmare though.
    I was with a group of people and we are all in high school. We're all students. We are in the school after school has let out and we are wondering around the halls and stuff. At one point, one of the girls in our group gets some kind of hand written note telling us all to go into the gymnasium. So we go there.
    The gym is kind of dark but we go in anyway. We end up on some raised platform or stage on the right side of the gym. It has white curtains all the way around it and is lit with white lights coming from underneath - very dramatic.
    At some point, this guy comes out and, out of the middle of nowhere, kills like three people in our group. I think he kills them with a machete or something. He's dressed kind of new wave with black spiky hair, horn rimmed glasses and a suit that is too small with a skinny tie. He comes out of nowhere and kills three people in our group. so the rest of us freak out and scatter really fast. I run off the stage and head for the door we came in. As I'm running I think "My back is exposed, he could just shoot me if he had a gun. Does he?" and as I'm "thinking" this in the dream, I imagine different scenarios where I am running away from him in the gym and I am zig-zagging, then trying different methods, making it harder for him to shoot me.
    When I get outside in the hall There is another member of our group, a girl, who has been killed and her body placed inside some kind of transparent, cocoon looking thing. The cocoon thing slides out into the hall and stops, just hanging there on the ceiling. It has a spotlight on it and there is music playing. You can see her dead body inside and her face is frozen in a scream expression.
    The impression I get is that 1: there is a serial killer loose in the after-hours school we are all in and 2: this killer is very young but is so skilled and into what he is doing that he is able to orchestrate really elaborate and stylish murders really quickly and stylishly (killed some of us in the gym, then was able to kill another member of our group, put her in a big cocoon thing and string her out into the hall - all within seconds of each other). He uses murder as art. He seems pretty young, maybe 23 and I think, even though he's a murderer trying to kill me, "Wow this guy really has it together!". This character will pop up later in the dream.
    Suddenly I am in Denton, Texas. The town I went to college in. I have my own room at a hotel I'm staying at. My room looks similar to an apartment I used to have in NYC. When I'm in the room, I am always watching that same television interview show where a blond woman is interviewing people. The owner of the hotel is always stopping into my room to ask me if everything is OK. At one point I am in the hotel lobby and I am aware that a previously taped interview with me on the interview TV show with the blond woman is playing. I'm in the lobby thinking "Wow I'm missing it". Then I see the blond woman who interviewed me in the hotel lobby and she asks me "How can you miss an interview with yourself on national television?" I'm really tired and I just want to go to sleep.
    Apparently throughout the dream, the guy that murdered friends of mine in the high school has been killing people that I know off and on. He's like an ongoing serial killer in my dream reality.
    Soon I am with members of my family (I think) and we are all getting into a big Cadillac car and going to another hotel. It seems that my father (I think) got a phone call from the serial killer (who is in his late 30's now) and he says he has reformed his ways. He spent some time in prison, has reformed his ways, and now is a mentally healthy member of society. He said he would like to invite us all over for drinks or something, and that's where we are all going. How my family knows this person is unexplained.
    We all drive to hotel and when we get there we all pile out of the car. The former killer is there greeting us, all smiles and handshakes. He says for us all to come up to his room. Suddenly...I get a REALLY bad gut feeling about the whole situation. I feel like the killer is not reformed at all and, knowing he is capable of elaborate murder scenarios, feel that this was all a plan to lead us into some kind of trap where we will all be killed. I plead with my parents (I think) to leave and come with me. They are insistent that everything is fine.
    I flee the scene in a hurry and, as I do, I feel the eyes of the former killer glaring me down in anger as he stands there next to my family, who are all about to be killed.
    I seem to be in my own car as I drive away. As I'm driving away from the scene, I get the feeling that the killer somehow booby trapped the car so it will explode or maybe spikes will shoot out of the dash and drivers seat and kill me. So I try to try to drive back to my hotel as fast as I can. I get blocked at one point by these three big eighteen wheelers turning into a grocery store in front of me. As I'm sitting there waiting for the trucks to go by, I'm fidgeting around, waiting for the booby trapped car to do something at any moment.
    There is a car phone in the car and suddenly it clicks on speaker phone. It's the killer calling in. He sings a song into the phone accapella. The lyrics are something like "Mark...I love looking at that picture of you...that picture of you is so nice...you look so pretty in that picture...I love looking at it...". He's singing this into the phone and I get the sense that INDEED he was planning to kill us all (did he kill my family?) and this creepy phone call with a song is his way of scaring me, of warning me that he will find me even though I escaped him this time.
    I try to get back to hotel. I get lost on all these weird roads that seem to change as I'm driving on them, making it hard to re-trace my steps. I stop in some store to ask for directions. The store is full of college age kids who are all hanging out around the cash register and counter and everything. I ask the girl behind the counter for directions back to my hotel. The girl doesn't seem to believe I really live in this town and she's asking my all kinds of questions like "Who do you know here? Who do you hang out with?" She's smiling and flirting with me the whole time. I see another woman ahead of me that is asking someone else behind the counter for directions. She then pays the person behind the counter after she gets her directions.
    I realize that this is what this store sells. You pay them a small amount for directions to anywhere in the town. I finally get directions out of the girl to my hotel. She hands me a bill for $2.32 or something like that and I pay it. I drive away from the store and head to my hotel.

12/3/00:

Another dream where someone is trying to kill me, or people are after me, but it's not a nightmare:
    I'm at some airport, or maybe a bus terminal. Now that I think about it it may have been some kind of boat docking area. Anyway, it's somewhere where you purchase tickets to get somewhere, whether it's a boat or plane or what, and there are a lot of people leaving and arriving there from all over.
    For some reason I had followed some really cute Puerto Rican boy onto some plane or boat, and was now following him off the boat and was going to follow him al the way home where he lived. I follow him all the way in a car or whatever away from the airport of boat dock and get to his house. He's with his family and is saying hello and all, there are a lot of members of his family. For some reason I am able to just hang around in the rooms of their house and watch them without being seen, like a ghost.
    At one point we are standing in the garage, and the boy I followed is telling his family what it's like to live in New York City. I look out the open garage door and see out into the sunny street. I suddenly realize that this boy lives in a suburban house in Plano, Texas, and that I am looking onto Custer Road, which is very near Big Lake Park (yet again!). The family is all leaving the garage and I want to follow them out and go walk over to Big Lake Park. When I get to the door, I see some guy that seems to be the head of the family, except he is white. I somehow recognize his face, but it has changed, like he dyed his hair red and has a beard now or something. I can tell he is someone I know from my past in New York, but I can't tell who. I think that the family cannot see him either because he can see me. He looks threatened that I am here and I can tell he doesn't want me around. I get the sense that he has been "haunting" this family for a long time and doesn't want me on his "territory".
    I look down at him and say "May I move past please?". He looks up at me, pauses and says nothing, just smiles kind of condescendingly. I say "Is this the way to Big Lake Park?" and he says "No. This is the way to Argentina."
    He's just making that up to throw me off and let me know he's gonna be no help at all. That's the end of that "section" of the dream. To date this is the closest I've gotten to Big Lake Park in my dreams. I keep getting closer each time, and each time I realize halfway through the dream that I am in in Plano, Texas - something I was always unaware of in the beginning of the dream. We'll see what develops.
    Next I'm in an area that looks like the Cajun Country of Louisiana. I am walking back to the airport or boat dock (why it's in Louisiana now I don't know). there are people here and there walking across the bridge to get there. The bridge is a giant white concrete arch that looks pretty old, parts of it are falling off and it has grass and kudzu growing on parts of it.
    As I'm walking across. I pass this group of guys that seem to be like urban gypsies or something. One of them is standing there wearing these two sports duffle bags like they're shoes. He's giving a funny speech to the rest of the guys and they are all drinking an laughing. I get the sense that these guys are trouble and so I just walk past them really innocuously. I pass them and soon, they all run up to catch up to me. They are all looking around like they are looking out for cops or something. One of them starts asking me what's in my bag and I can tell he's gonna try and steal it. I put up my defenses and somehow outsmart them and they run back the direction they came from.
    Soon I'm on this falling apart section of the bridge and I'm hiding inside this little square cube cave thing. I'm in there hiding from the muggers. I see this man and woman and they are kissing. The woman tells me that the main mugger guy is a psychopathic serial killer and I'd better not let him catch me or I'm done for.
    I start running over and under all these fallen apart concrete parts (in the bright sun, with kudzu all over the place) and I'm in a total run for my life. I can sense that the killer is not far behind me - he seems to be able to move at super-human speed. I am so out of breath I almost consider just stopping and letting him kill me. I'm thinking to myself "This is kind of a pretty place to die in - I'll have to be sure to look around and experience everything I can before he kills me, so I will have had a full life."
    But I don't. I run and run and suddenly find myself at the boat dock. I'm boarding a steamboat back to New York City.

12/4/00:

No dreams.

12/5/00:

No dreams.

12/6/00:

    Lots of weird still images. Like the whole dream was a montage of still photos. One of them had Cherry Jubilie from the Go There! TV show in New York. At one point I saw her and she was holding an 8"x10" piece of orange construction paper. The piece of paper had a tassel of black yarn attached to one corner. She was in the middle of a park or green field, and the sun was shining bright and the wind was blowing her (wig).
    There was something else with a white concrete statue in the middle of the field and a blond woman. The photos were really erratic and un-posed. Almost like someone was wearing a camera around their necks that was going off randomly, and they were in the field with Cherry and the blond woman - and those photos made up my dream.
    I think there was also a part about big black spiders.

12/7/00:

Sigh...no dreams.

12/8/00:

    I'm roaming around some giant aquarium. I'm with friends but I don't know who they are. The aquarium is this GIANT sphere with all these intercepting walls running through it. There are little halls and passageways running throughout it, leading to each exhibit of tank of water. In the center of the sphere is hanging a giant replica of a huge whale. Like at the Museum of Natural History. There are groups of young teenagers running all over the place, like they're on a field trip or something. Me and my friends are just slumming there.
    Then, for some reason, I have stolen an old-fashioned Volkswagen car and am driving it around town. I don't know what city I'm in but it's not New York. I'm going to all of these different places and looking around in buildings and stores and stuff. When I get "home" from my day (I seem to live in a parking lot), I look over and see that the wheels of my car have been completely worn down to just these little round metal nubs. I wonder how the car could have driven so long like this without me noticing.
    At some other point I'm in some home kind of setting. A woman who looks like Ellen Burstyn is my "mother" and she's always talking about breakfast or making breakfast. It's always breakfast, breakfast, breakfast with her.

12/9/00:

Too busy with shoot to record dreams.

12/10/00:

    I'm walking up 9th Street to go meet some friends for a movie. I run into Thurston Moore. I say hi to him and start talking. I tell him that I read about the stuff he and some other people did at the festival in Ystad, Sweden and how it sounded like it was really hilarious and how I would have loved to been there. He was like "Yea...yea...". Then I mentioned how some of the recordings of the events had been released in this $500 Black Box that you could buy. He was like "Ohhhh...yea! Geeze can you believe how expensive that is? I only got paid $200!". Then I told him I was going to see this black comedy at the movies. Not black comedy like a genre but black comedy like "Moesha" or something on WB11 or something. He's like "That's cool". Then he wants to light a cigarette but has not lighter. I pull this old pack of matches I have out of my pocket and am like "Here...you can have these for $500!". He's laughing and I'm like "Come on! Look...it's got TWO matches in it! TWO! Ohhhhh...look!" and at one point I actually think I'm gonna make the sale.

12/11/00:

    Very weird dream. I'm looking at a computer screen. There are two browser windows on the screen, both small. One of the screens looks totally blank - all white. The other screen seems to be a webcam of sorts. It looks like it's viewing a group of people all sitting at this couch in a room. The image on the cam is all out of focus, except for the people. They are REALLY in focus. So crisp in focus that they don't even look like they're on the screen. The image of the people is so clear it looks like there is a hole cut out in the exact shape of the group of people on the couch, on the cam, on my computer screen (and the hole keeps changing as they move). And I am looking through the hole in my screen and they are far behind my computer. This wouldn't work because all the other images on my screen are in focus relative to my eyes being about twelve inches from it.
    As I look at the cam image of the too-in-focus people on the rest-is-out-of-focus cam, I notice that their backs are all to the cam. I see that they are all looking up at the top of my screen and are trying to see what's on the other browser window, which is blank. I start to see images appearing and disappearing on the first browser window. I get the sense that the people in the cam image are live, and all have ESP, and are somehow tuning into my computer to see that I am watching them, to make themselves appear out of focus to me, and to try and make images appear on the blank browser window I have open separately from them, which is above them. Since they can tune into my computer they know the other browser window is positioned above them, so they know to look up, as a kind of joke.
    As images appear and disappear in the window above them, their own image changes in focus. So I realize one of the people in the cam image is Amanda Bearse.

12/12/00:

    All I remember from last night is this weird design. It looked like it was drawn with firework light streams, or maybe some animated thing from the movie "Fantasia". It was against a black background. It was this kind of blob-y shape that was all these swirling colors made out of glowing lines. The main part of the blob had an "arm" (made of glowing lines) that came out of the big part. It looked like this "arm" was rising up to strike the main part of the blob.
    Then the entire thing turned into a 3-dimensional sculpture made out of wooden sticks and tattered crepe paper and clear mylar. The "sculpture" (which was the same shape as the glowing line design - only in 3D) was about eight feet high. Instead of the black background, the sculpture was now sitting in my bedroom in the loft. The "arm" was reaching up to the ceiling, looking like it was rising up to strike the main part. The main part that was about to get "struck" was at the base, on the ground where my bed usually is, in the middle of the room (I'm beating myself up?). The torn and tattered paper and plastic hanging on the wooden sticks that made up the sculpture was blowing in the breeze - because it was the middle of the day and the wind was blowing in the open windows - as was the sunlight. I felt like I was looking at something old and useless as I stood there looking at it.

12/13/00:

No dreams.

12/14/00:

    I was in my apartment with Michael and Gregory. It was nighttime, we were just hanging around - and it was a weekday. The television was on.
    The weird thing was that I never saw Greg or Michael's heads. My "dream camera eye" always cropped them at the neck when I was looking at them. I remember looking at the television screen and there was an advertisement for a movie. The image on the screen was of this giant tube that was broken in the middle. Out of the broken part was oozing this green goop. The goop was moving and undulating almost like it was alive. The announcer on the commercial for the movie was like "...critics are calling this movie the best of blah blah blah in years!".
    I remember thinking "I don't see any humans on this commercial, there must be no humans in the movie. It's all mechanics, goo and robots and stuff!" Then I realized because I couldn't see any human heads in my dreams that there were no humans in my reality.
    Gregory got up to go to the bathroom. I was sitting at my desk and Michael came up from behind me. He put a piece of a black plastic garbage bag over my face and started to suffocate me. I couldn't move for some reason. I could tell that Michael was trying to suffocate me and maybe kill me. I wondered if Greg getting up to go to the bathroom meant that he was in on it. Soon I could tell that in a matter of seconds I would stop breathing but I couldn't move. I was convinced now that Michael was trying to kill me. I totally freaked out.
    Then I woke up.

12/15/00:

    I'm laying in bed all worried about tomorrow's shoot. Suddenly I become aware that my torso is made of black leather. The leather has all these zippers all over it kind of like a motorcycle jacket. I become aware of these "hands" that seem to be coming down from Heaven or another reality or something. The "hands" are opening the zippers and placing things inside me. I get this really good feeling that the hands represent some kind of angel or something, and that the things they are placing inside of me are good things that will help me get through the shoot tomorrow, like strength, concentration, patience, etc...
    Then I picture this kind of angel at the foot of my bed massaging my feet. I get the impression that maybe the angel is preparing me for something HORRIBLE that is going to happen tomorrow. This makes me get really scared.
    The I picture another angel come down through the ceiling and whisper into my ear "You can't be fearful of the known. Eliminate the fear by changing the unknown into the known." and then zaps up into the ceiling again. This makes the angel massaging my feet go away in a huff.

12/16/00:

No dreams...slept like a rock.

12/17/00:

    I lived in some complex where there were a lot of people living in these big spaces - we never saw the outside world. It was kind of like all the people that lived there inhabited these rooms that were recording studios or television studios or publishing offices...anything to do with the entertainment industry. There was a massive computer that controlled the complex, it told the inhabitants what to do, like "Make a 'warmedy' sitcom and use these following complex inhabitants as cast members" or "Publish a magazine about underwater weddings! It will fold after one issue." All of us had to do whatever the computer said. It was like we were making media for some outside world we couldn't see. Weird.
    Anyway...it seems I had to produce a cable show. Word had "come down from the top" at the complex that I was now the host of my own TV show and was to make a weekly episode until I was "told" to stop. I was in my television studio living space getting things ready to record my first show - which I think was supposed to be like a call-in talk show. I think I was going to make the subject of the first show "Mark Allen's Dirty Family Secrets Revealed!" and I was going to sit in front of the camera, with my back to the camera, be on the phone (for some reason), and tell all this juicy gossip about my parents live on the air. Since my parents never really grew out of the 1950's, I think I was going to just make stuff up.
    As  was setting up, I heard all this commotion and crashing in another room. I went in to investigate and saw two young guys destroying a room of my studio. They said they were going to put a stop to my show and make sure it didn't get on the air. They said they didn't like it and I better be careful not to make the show or they would harm me, then they left. I remember just standing there and feeling conflicted because I really didn't want to do the show in the first place. I was doing it just because the computer told me to.
    Then suddenly I realized that the two guys who trashed my studio and threatened me must live in the complex, and I'm like "Hmmm...I guess the computer doesn't control EVERYTHING! ...or wait...DOES IT?!?!"

12/18/00:

    The only thing I remember from the dream was a piece of paper lying on a table with the words "Done Fly West" or maybe "Gone Done West" or "East Are West" or East Done West" or something like that

12/19/00:

    I'm on the telephone asking my dad advice about something. He's telling me to look at this aerobics brochure while we're talking. The brochure has lots of pictures of girls in 80's-looking aerobics uniforms. My dad is telling me the solution to my problem is in the brochure somewhere.

12/20/00:

    At one point I remember some guy was hugging me and pointing to things on a piece of paper for me to look at. I could see myself in this dream which is weird. The person kept pointing to things "off camera", like "behind" me as the observer. The person kind of looked like Terry Sweeney. That's all I remember.

12/21/00:

No dreams.

12/22/00:

    I'm running around some place...a building...really big. It looks like a big office complex. Some of the rooms have "construction" going on in them - like they have that plastic covering hanging from scaffolding in them.
    I'm with these three guys who are a lot younger than me. We are trying to find a way to a party somewhere in the building. I think one of the guys may have been Matt, the guy I went out with for awhile. We are in the basement and one of the guys is on his cell phone, trying to find out where the party is, and also telling the host how many of us will be coming. I overhear him say one of the members of our group is "Tom" but his name is actually David. So after he's done with the call and walked into another room, I pick up his cell phone and call the host back. He answers the phone real secret like. Really serious and almost speaking in "code" like it's a top secret operation. I tell him that one of the people's names that is coming is David, not "Tom". On his end I hear all this computer clicking like "beep...boop...boopity...beep..." and then he say's in the overly serious voice; "...OK what is your objective for telling me this?" like he's James Bond or something and his party is the ultimate event of the millennium. It's obvious he's some naive dreamer in his bedroom with a laptop or something - that's the impression I get. I click the phone off and decide I'm not going to the "event". Then I wonder why I thought that about the party host as I'm walking down this hallway.
    I go outside and walk down the road to this big mansion. I go inside, for some reason, and see a friend of mine on the kitchen floor. He tells me that this really wealthy couple lives there and that he and some friends secretly live in the basement and walls and come out and occupy the house when the couple is out or sleeping. I see some of his co-horts and they are all these little ape-like nude children all dirty with long black hair and crooked teeth. Real Darwin-ish. They are all running around and getting food from the refrigerator. My friend kind of seems to be their leader or dad or something.
    I ask him how they can live there and not get detected and he says it's easy because they secretly installed sensors in all areas of the house so they can tell when one of the people that lives there are gonna come into a certain room or whatever. He also says they installed "synth" machines all over the place that secretly drown out any sound they make so the couple doesn't hear them even if they are in the same room. He says they are working on a machine in the basement that will make them all invisible so then that can just do whatever they want without being detected. It sounds very high tech.
    He tells me that the man who lives there is right outside the kitchen in the living room. He points in that direction and I see the edge of the man's hand and a lit cigar. He's right in the next room and all these nomad kids and my friend are in here getting food and having a whole secret community! I'm totally amazed.

12/23/00:

    I'm in New Orleans. I am living with all these female strippers. They all have bleached, puffed out hair and giant fake breasts. Wait...I don't think I was living with them, I think I was just always backstage at where ever it is that they striped.
    We are all backstage and everything is really fun and funny. We're always joking and the girls are always trading make-up tips and white leather boots and stuff. At on point, someone blows up a pink, long balloon. You know the kind clowns make balloon animals out of? Anyway, someone blows one up and they put all these OTHER balloons (round ones) inside that one, like peas inside a pod. The girl that made it hands it to me and everyone is paying attention to me holding it. I look down and see that the round balloons inside the long one are shaped like breasts, and they each have a shape of a protruding nipple on them. Each one of the round ones is a different size, like different kinds of breasts. Some of the balloons start to loose air and go "Ssssssst..." and I am trying to hold the whole thing together to keep all the balloons from loosing the air inside them. It's kind of like a game. All the girls are watching me balance all these hissing breasts inside a long pink balloon and they are all laughing and cheering and I'm cracking up. It's like "Go Mark! Go!"
    Then I'm in the lobby of some grand hotel. There are a lot of windows in the lobby and the sun is shining all inside the lobby. I think three of the lobby's four giant walls are made of glass. It's early morning and there is some reception going on. There is a buffet and they are serving really greasy eggs and sausage and sugar-y coffee - everything on the buffet looks really gross, but people are stuffing it down. I notice all the guys in the crowd who are stuffing food down look like my dad.
    I'm in the lobby with some of the stripper girls, who are dressed kind of like a sleazy version of Sunday church wear. It's funny. It's like we're trying to fit in. We all think we look kind of out of place but no body seems to care, or maybe we don't notice.
    Anyway, suddenly I see my mom poke her head in the front door of the lobby. She has a serious look on her face. She is looking for my father, who she sees and motions to come outside. The weird thing is is that she looked like a Stepford wife version of my mom. She was very heavily made up and had on these really stuffy clothes on. And she was talking in this totally affected heavy southern accent.
    A voice inside my head says "President George Bush Jr. won the latest election, something very important to her. She now thinks she is going to take over the country with her Southern Baptist Republican views. That is why she is made up so heavy and is wearing those clothes. She can't say hello to you or acknowledge you because your reputation is harmful to the mission. She is on a mission to conquer the world."
    I think "Wow, my mom is like a total robot or something!"

12/24/00:

Day off recording dreams for holiday.

12/25/00:

Day off recording dreams for holiday (Happy Holidays!)

12/26/00:

    I'm in some building where there are lots of escalators and round hallways (like a tube). It reminds me of a cross between the Hyatt Regency in downtown Dallas and the Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport. I am on this escalator going up, it is extremely crowded with businessmen in black suits with black briefcases. As I'm going up, the swelling crowd of businessmen slowly pushes be off the escalator. I am pushed off to the right and slip right off onto this ledge that was right next to the escalator, behind this chrome railing thing. As I'm doing this, I'm hearing this voice in my head, a woman I think, and the voice is saying "How do I handle being recognized in public? Well, every city is different! I mean, In Europe I'm mobbed. When I'm in small American cities, even LA, I tend to attract some attention and people approach me. But in New York it's weird - people just kind of leave you alone."
    Then suddenly I'm like, in a restaurant I think. I'm sitting down with a friend whom I don't know. He is showing me this really old copy of People magazine. Madonna is on the cover. There is a sub-head on the cover that says "Super rage photo never seen before! See page 3!". My friend is explaining to me that this is his photograph that he has been sitting on for a million years. It's of a very early Madonna, before her first album came out. He says he was hired by her to photograph her for her first LP but she ended up not using the photo. He has had the photo forever and was waiting for the right time to sell it to the media or whatever. He says he sold it to People finally last week. He was disappointed with how little he got, but he said it was still a lot of money (if he sold it last week then why is it in this old issue of People???).
    Anyway. he turns to page three and there is Madonna, young, in her "first" stage all lace and crucifixes and spandex and ratted hair. She is sitting on this grassy knoll, outdoors, in the sun. The camera is about 50 feet away from her, below her on the grass incline, and she is looking down at it, squinting in the sun. What's so odd is that there is this GIGANTIC block/sculpture thing made of styrofoam hanging between her and the camera from wires. It's just hovering there like a giant block, in the middle of the air. It's covered in astroturf and has these five holes in it that run between her and the camera lens, long ways, so she can see the camera through the styrofoam thing, by looking through the holes, and the camera can see her. I can tell it's made from styrofoam because the insides of the holes look like they have been carved out with a knife or whatever, and they aren't covered with astroturf.
    The weird thing is that, as Madonna looks through these holes in the styrofoam thing, into the camera, I see that the five holes are in the exact shape of the five orifices on her face; two eyes, two nostrils, and a mouth. The go from the normal size by her face, and as they get to the camera they get really big. Also, as I look through the holes and look at her (which I seem to be able to do now by just looking at the photo, I can kind of 'enter' the photo), anyway, I see that these five shapes/holes are actually in the shape of Andy Warhol's portrait of Marilyn Monroe. The colorful, off-set silk-screen portrait. The five holes are her eyeshadow/eyes/eyebrows shape, nostrils, and big lips and mouth. You can even see some of the color of Warhol's painting inside some of the holes.
    Madonna is trying to look through this thing and make her face fit into the holes. I can see this weird hybrid of Marilyn and Madonna with the combination of all these elements.
    I then notice that the grassy knoll Madonna was sitting on is in the plaza that John F. Kennedy was shot in in Dallas. And I can see the Hyatt regency in the background behind her.

12/27/00:

No Dreams.

12/28/00:

    I remembered my dream when I woke up this morning, but later I forgot it. Do remember these parts:
    I was "watching" this colorful display that looked like it may have been computer animated. The "background" was a circular display that was bright yellow and red. There were these flat characters of unicorns and lightening bolts and hoops. These objects were moving all over the background. The image gave me a really warm feeling...like anything was possible.
    Then I was a Wigstock 2009...way in the future. It was still on the Chelsea piers and it all still looked the same. The same performers as always were there. I was backstage and was hanging out in this plywood hallway, you know like on sidewalks in NYC when they are doing construction and re-route the pedestrian flow? Anyway I'm sitting in one of these hallways with some guys, and we're kind of backstage, and Lady Bunny is there and we're all talking. I am massaging Lady Bunny's hand while she is talking about how exhausting doing Wigstock is. I see all these enormous metal rings on Bunny's hand and as I'm massaging her hand, I pull one of the rings off. Suddenly she jumps up and is like "I gotta get on stage again!" She runs off and up to the stage and I'm telling the guys there "Oh look I have her ring!"
    So I go up right next to the stage to find someone to give it to. The area next to the stage looks like the inside of a dank basement, all isolated from the audience and everything. There are only two sound men back there. It's creepy. I don't see a way for her to get her ring back so I just hold onto it and leave.
    I walk along the West Side Highway, which is all black with black buildings everywhere. Then suddenly I am in this basement where there are all these college-age kids. They are doing some thing where they are staying locked in the basement and are staying up as long as possible, just all talking to one another. I see some faces I think I recognize but I'm not sure. They want me to join them but I decide to walk back over to Wigstock. I go outside and it raining really hard.

12/29/00:

    Watched a Mario Bava film last night ("Whip and the Body") and ate a bunch of Indian food before going to bed. Amazingly though: no deams. Go figure!

12/30/00:

    I'm in some room I don't know. It looks like a teenager's room. I'm sitting on the floor and I am making something out of paper and sticks or something. I see my roommate Michael looking at me through this little doggie door under the door to the my room. He has the flap open and is just sitting there, on the floor on the other side of the door watching me. He's eating something too, really loudly.
    I think that he thinks I can't see him, so I just go about what I was doing. At some point I say "Hi Michael" and he doesn't even flinch. So I just start telling him something that happened to me the day before and we have a conversation like that.

12/31/00:

    I was in a bed and someone was feeding me Lucky Charms cereal. That's all I remember.