Mark Allen's Dream Journal - September, 2003
*note: Date of dream entry refers to day before,the date of the night I went to sleep and the dream I had into the next day's date.

9/3/03:

    I am inside some kind of spaceship. It looks like a Hollywood version of a spaceship. I am wearing some kind of light fern green/beige space suit thing that has what looks like a priest's collar... except the the black part is the light fern green color and the little white square is bright red. There is another guy with me who has spiky brown hair. He is wearing a similar suit.  I think the ship is actually on Earth... on the ground, and for some reason I and this other guy cannot leave the ship. I am sitting on this hard seat/couch thing facing the front door of the ship - which is a big metal door. The other guy is up front doing something with the door. Suddenly the guy looks at me funny. He says he has a bomb with a timer on it that will go off in 60 seconds and if I don't get off the ship by then I will be blown to smithereens. Weirdly his plans for massive explosions don't include his fate. He places this cylindrical device on the front wall. It seems to stick to the wall with magnets. It is the same color as our suits... very light fern green/beige. It has a round face with four red lights on it... each on the face like they represent the 3-hour marks on a clock... 12, 3, 6 and 9. The 12 one is lit up and it's supposed to represent the bomb being activated. I (we) have 60 seconds to get off the ship or we'll blow up. The 3 light lights up... the clock is counting down. I just sit there. The other guy has his back to me and keeps turning around to see what I'm doing. I'm just sitting there. I seem to know it's a joke... but I'm not sure. Half of me is terrified and half of me is bored to death.

9/4/03:

Dream had 2 distinct parts:
    One:
    I'm living, or staying, in tall, gray, concrete building. The building is made entirely of bare concrete and what looks like frosted glass. It always seems to be nighttime outside. Parts of the building look like a parking garage. I also realize the building looks a lot like a hospital. Am I staying in a hospital? I am up in my gray concrete apartment listening to WFMU.org on my computer. I am listening to Pseu Braun's show. For some reason I know that the WFMU studios are also located in this building... and they are broadcasting live from inside there somewhere right now.
    I decide, for some reason, to go down into the lobby of the building. I get in the elevator and go down to the lobby. It looks like the entrance area of a hospital. It has sliding glass doors to allow people brought in on wheeled stretchers... a reception desk with a nurse behind it... a waiting area. I kind of mull around the lobby. It's night outside. I suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, see Pseu walk into the lobby through the sliding glass doors. She walks right over to the reception desk and sits down behind it with the nurse and they start talking and laughing. They obviously know each other. I think to go over and say "hi" to Pseu but don't. I walk back over to the elevators and push the button to bring one down. It arrives and the doors open. I step in and right as I do... I hear behind me Pseu yelling "Mark!"... I guess she sees me. For some reason I pretend I don't hear her and the door shuts behind me.
    I know I live on the 5th floor of the building so I hit the "5" button. The elevator has aluminum walls and is fluorescent lit and looks like a service elevator. It is very cramped inside. It starts moving. I look up at some of the little metal doors that open to controls of the elevator and see that they weirdly have cotton gauze wrapped around them... or taped over them. I look in this little shelf right next to the buttons and see that it has hospital-style toothbrushes, dental floss, little sewing kits, soaps, shampoos, even little curlers for hair... all sanitarily wrapped in paper and intended for guests. There are even flavored toothpicks and mints. There is only one of each thing. I look at all the stuff and get very excited by it for some reason. I start taking stuff for myself. I grab stuff one by one and think "Oh I need that... and that... okay and that too." I get greedy and start taking stuff I don't need... it all looks so pretty wrapped in paper. I know that if I take this stuff there will be none for anyone else. I don't care because I know no one will know who was in the elevator.
    The elevator is still going up and is kind of rumbling and making a funny noise. Suddenly I realize that the elevator is no longer moving. I listen carefully and hear this quiet, high-pitched whine... like the sound of a machine part that is stuck. I realize the elevator is stuck. I start to panic a little and I look over at the doors. They are kind of making a wheezing sound. I realize something is very wrong... the elevator is definitely jammed or stuck. The fluorescent light is kind of dimming or "browning out.". I start to get more scared and I look over at the elevator buttons. There are buttons only for floors 8 - 12. Where is the "5" button I pushed earlier? I notice more gauze on some of the inside parts of the elevator and notice some yellow-y stains on parts of the gauze (old blood stains?). I somehow know that no one else lives in this building but me. I know I will be trapped here for a long time, or perhaps the elevator will break and go plummeting to the ground. I know there is an emergency button somewhere in the elevator but also know no one will hear the alarm sound. I start to really get scared. I think of Pseu and the nurse down on the ground floor and wish I had stopped to talk to her. I have all the freebie stuff in both of my hands... I literally start to kind of "whine" like a crying little child. I start to try to bang on the metal walls of the elevator but since I have plastic toothbrushes and sewing kits sticking out of my fingers it makes only a clicking sound. Tears start to stream down my face. I am crying like a little child and am very scared.
    Two:
    Then a complete and total scenario shift: I am "observing" what looks like an 80's made-for-TV movie. Or maybe I'm watching it on TV. The shot is of two guys, businessmen, in the back of a black stretch limo. It is sunny daytime outside the blackened windows of the limo. They are high-powered businessmen and are having a conference while driving from one part of NYC to another (I know it's in NYC for some reason). Their suits and the grain of the film lets me know it's mid-80's. One of the businessmen is much older... a senior in the company... the other one is very young... and is being counseled by the older one. They are talking and also drinking champagne and eating lobster dinners which are in the back of the limo too, oddly. The older one is saying to the younger one "Oh I had a terrible tragedy happen to me at your age once too! But something... some event will happen in your life at some point that will allow you to regain your strength back!" The young guy is listening very intently.
    Then... as the older guy is saying all this... the camera "cuts" to a shot of what looks like underneath a glass table at the outdoor patio section of a restaurant in Rockerfeller Center in NYC. The "camera" is on the ground, and is pointing upwards... looking up through the glass table at the blue sky. There are two pairs of feet in the foreground. One a woman's and one a man's. The woman has on what look like high-heeled pumps with, weirdly, striped soccer sports socks. The "camera" starts to very slowly pan up the legs... towards the people sitting at the glass table. As it does... I can still "hear" the voice-over of the older businessman in the back of the limo saying "An event will happen that will catapult you back to your original state of being... something will happen... don't worry..." and the camera keeps panning up the legs of the girl sitting at the table. As it gets closer to her body I see she has on no panty hose, and a very large skirt that is kind of bellowing in the breeze.
    The camera finally reaches her ass... and I see she has no underwear on at all! It's her nude ass! Also... she seems to now be on top of the glass table somehow... and the camera is looking up through the table at her bare ass. Her ass is kind of skinny and seems to have some slight redness to it... like maybe a rash? I still hear the older businessman's voice-over... he is saying "Something will happen to you... don't worry... just like it happened to me!" and as I look at the girl's ass I realize two things: 1) The girl's ass is MY ass. That girl is me, somehow. It's my bare legs and naked ass under that skirt. 2) The ass is supposed to give me some clue as to what will be the "changing moment" in my life that will catapult me back to the person I was before I had cancer... weird.
    Suddenly, and jarringly... the camera cuts back to the back of the limo with the two businessmen. The older businessman has stopped what he has been doing and is "looking" right at me... through my dream... right into my eyes. At least that's what it feels like... like when a character in a movie looks at the camera and "talks to" the viewing audience. I know he is specifically looking right at me individually though. This is definitely a first for my dreams. He has a very knowing look on his face... like what I just witnessed is very important. He is looking very intently right into my eyes to communicate something to me.  I must remember and study it. It's very chilling and weirdly thought-provoking.

9/5/03:

No dreams.

9/6/03:

No dreams.

9/7/03:

No dream

9/8/03:

    I am in some unknown town. I seem to live in this very large apartment complex. I think I have friends that live in other apartments in the complex. There's a huge part of the dream I don't remember - the first half - but in the second half... I am walking back to the complex from somewhere in town (a bar or maybe a convenience store) with my old high school/college friend Sondra. We are going to her apartment. It is nighttime. She is telling me about this strange medical procedure that she needed done to her toe. Something about this little cylinder-shaped thing in her big toe that needed to be "frozen" off bit by bit every day... she's telling me about how much money she is saving by doing it herself and buying all the supplies to "freeze" it every night... which she keeps in her freezer.
    We reach her apartment and walk in. It looks weirdly like an apartment I had in Dallas at one time that a lot of people used to hang out at... vertical blinds, a white drafting table, etc. The carpet is deep blue. There are streetlights shining in the windows and making vertical lines through the blinds and onto the drywalls. Inside the apartment is my old friend Tim Cook. I haven't seen him in a long time. He is sitting at my drafting table. He appears to be Sondra's roommate. Sondra goes into her bedroom, I guess to freeze her toe, and Tim and I catch up. He tells me that he is in charge of hiring and organizing "...all the waitresses in the area" with this little computer that I notice is sitting in front of him. I tell him about how I am a massage therapist now. The conversation is very awkward... I guess because we haven't seen each other in so long. I detect some apprehension on Tim's part to be friendly... it's weird.
    As I am talking to Tim I have this little white bottle of moisturizing lotion on the little table next to me. I have the cap off... and keep squeezing the bottle and making huge globs of moisturizer rise over the top... which I then collect in my hands and "hold" as I squeeze yet another glob of moisturizer out. The stuff is getting all over the place. Tim starts to tell me about a band he is in... and I look down at my feet on the carpet and see some 7" records and CDs of his band and a newspaper with ads for bands playing at local clubs, there is moisturizer on the newspaper. I look back at the bottle and see there is moisturizer all over my arms and everything. I start to try and get the moisturizer back in the bottle. The whole time Tim and I are still talking. Tim seems to be warming up and becoming more friendly. I almost put this white napkin that is soaked with moisturizer into the bottle... I point this out to Tim, who thinks it's funny.     Tim keeps going on excitedly about his band. At one point he gets on the floor and starts showing me the records and paper. Then I start to talk about something or other. I am sitting there with globs of moisturizer in each hand, and all over the table and me... and I literally start to fall asleep as I am talking. My body kind of slumps over and I am still holding my cupped hands out to hold the moisturizer. I then snap back up and start talking again and I keep trying to get the moisturizer back into the bottle and I say to Tim "Don't you love how I'm sitting here talking to you and I'm falling asleep while trying to shove giant gobs of moisturizer into a bottle!?"

9/9/03:

    In in some countryside place with some people I don't know. I am walking in a frozen area... there is snow and ice on the ground... and the sun is shining brightly on it. I am with someone I don't know and also Joel. We are walking along what looks like a long, frozen river. Like a glacier almost. I walk up onto this very long, blue chunk of ice... the size of a parking lot. Suddenly the large ice piece breaks free from the larger piece it was part of and begins to move down the river (even though it's all frozen). I panic at first but then the people I am with tell me it's going to be OK. I get off the piece of ice.
    Then I'm in the same countryside... inside a house. I know I have been at the location for about a week - on a kind of vacation. I am looking out a window of the house onto a large lake... it is still daytime... but there is no snow or ice on the ground (lake). I see a guy walking on this very skinny pier that stretches out into the lake - it's so skinny it almost just looks like a thin, long branch... it also looks like he is walking on water (if you squint your eyes). I am thinking "I can't believe I stayed here away from home for a whole week! I am so proud of myself."
    Then a scenario shift: I am in my apartment in NYC. It is dusk and cloudy outside. I have all the windows open and it's a nice night. It seems kind of quiet outside.
    When it turns dark, I look over at the building next to me and see three young people jump off of the top of the roof and into the courtyard between out two buildings! I am shocked! It's six stories up! Did they commit suicide together? I run to the window and look down... I see the courtyard is filled with about seven or eight feet deep water... and it is raining onto the water. The lights in the courtyard are still on and are making ripple patterns on the rained-on water. Huh? I run to the front of my building and look outside. All of NYC is covered in eight feet of water and raining. I see people sitting on top of the awning of the Chinese restaurant downstairs... like people would sit on roofs in a flood. I think about what the people who like on the ground floor must be going through. I can't imagine how all this happened within the hour that it was dusk and now dark. I remember looking out of the window earlier and seeing the sidewalks dry. I turn on the TV and see that not all of NYC has been flooded - just certain parts.
    Then suddenly I am walking outside my apartment alongside the bridge. It seems to still be the same night - at dusk again somehow, and there is NO flood or water to be seen. I start talking to this guy in a basketball uniform with a shaved head and carrying a sports bag. He is walking the same direction as me. We start talking about what we each do for a living.

9/10/03:

    My dream seemed to involve a fake episode of the TV show "America's Most Wanted":
    I am "watching" my dream as I would watch a TV show... yet sometimes I seem to be inside the action, observing it. I hear host John Walsh's voice talking about a female murderer, who's middle aged and wears lots of make-up. She is wanted for several murders in the US and is a hunted lady. Apparently she grew up as a child in Dallas, TX. She had a weird life as a con artist/prostitute/drug addict as a young adult and now she's a middle aged grifter with a list of felonies and constantly on the run. She is dumpy, short, has a face like a witch and has thick, Brillo-pad-like black hair. She wear this really awful, heavy eye make up. Black/maroon mascara, with then an elaborate dusting of all the colors of the rainbow spectrum fading into each other circling each entire eye in a wide circle - very well done almost like airbrushed - all in glittery eye shadow... and then a big black line circling that. It looks like a clown. She also has bad red lipstick on her thin, crackly, fish lips. She always wears bad, dated 80's-style sweater dresses (cut like an oversize sweater... that hangs down to the knees like a dress) with bold colorful prints on them and black tights under that. And black, flat, pointed shoes... like she never grew up from shopping at Contempo Casuals at the mall in the 80's (but now she's an old lady). I get the impression from the show that she has committed some bad murders... but I almost feel sorry for her as it seems she killed people because of twisted, specific reasons... like she almost didn't have a choice in the bad situations she had gotten herself into.
    The story follows one part, which is re-enacted by actors... where the woman apparently made a bad mistake that lead to her almost getting caught by the FBI. In the sequence, they show how she broke into a closed film lab/taxidermy workshop to get her hands on some film and was using some special film-dyeing process (like camera film) to get ahold of a chemical byproduct of the process... which was this dark maroon paint-like chemical that was highly toxic but was used in taxidermy. The chemical is what would wash off the film when processed in the developed... and it was a dark maroon paint-like substance that taxidermists used somehow on stuffed animals. She had broken in to process some film and mix up a batch of the stuff. The re-enactment shows her at a light table... painting with a tiny paintbrush the maroon substance on a clear sheet of plastic. She has on one of those jewelers' microscope things in one eye as she carefully looks at what she is working on. In the background of her I see all kinds of stuffed animals on the shelves, like deer and stuff. She paints the chemical on the sheet and then dries it... then she takes a razor and slices the dried sheet of toxic maroon chemical into itty bitty strips... and she then uses these strips to make false eyelashes... to match her maroon mascara.
    Apparently when she was apprehended in some state... cops were able to take her false eyelashes and analyze them in the crime lab and trace the chemical in them to the specific lab she broke into to do this... this somehow gave them proof about some of the murders she had committed. The "camera" is showing a close up of her hideously clown-like face... as she is being sentenced in the courtroom. It stays right up in her face the whole time. You can see every wrinkle and wart on her face under the elaborate make up, she looks emotion-less and has an expression accumulated from a lifetime of subtle sorrow. You can hear the judge in front of her saying... "You are convicted of blah blah blah and in lieu of your hideous crimes I am sentencing you to 6 consecutive lifetime sentences blah blah blah..." and her face doesn't even seem to react at all. She just seems concerned with waiting her chance to speak. As the judge is speaking she keeps trying to interrupt and is saying "But... but judge... please... please can you just listen to me for a second..." When she does finally speak she shows almost no emotion as she says "Judge please... please don't convict me... can you just give me one more chance... please... I don't wanna go to jail... I HAVE A DATE TONIGHT! He's a really nice guy I've liked for a long time and I finally got him to go out with me! Please!"
    This cuts away from the courtroom footage and to John Walsh, who is saying "Can you believe this slimeball? When apprehended for taking innocent lives... she asks the judge not to lock her away because she has a date with a guy she likes! Jeez! Well (whatever her name is) we've got news for you... where you're going you won't be going on any dates for a long time! Or wearing any make up!"
    The screen then cuts to what looks like home video footage taken in the 80's. Indeed it is footage shot in the very early 80's of a young girl... about 11 years old... in a Contempo Casuals store in a mall. She is dressed up in as many clothes as she can... trendy 80's dresses over trendy 80's "Where's The Beef?" sweatshirts over trendy 80's jewelry and black rubber Madonna bracelets over 80's headbands... elaborate make-up even though she is too young... she almost looks like a child version of Cyndi Lauper. She is bouncing around and very happy... smiling from ear to ear... beaming... she is very loved you can see, and a little spoiled but it's OK. Her family is all around her and they keep handing her stuff to try on... they also keep handing her ice cream cones and candy. She is spinning around grabbing each thing... delirious with excitement. Apparently her parents are/were the owners of the Contempo Casuals store in the 80's at some mall in Dallas... and this little girl went to the store every day and got to try on all the fantastic clothes and get free food from the food court and was a very happy little girl. This girl is the same girl that went onto a life of crime and whom we saw just getting sentenced many years later. As the footage plays... John Walsh's voice says "So... this happy little girl... who could play dress up every day and was the happiest little girl at her loving parent's Contempo Casuals store way back in the 80's... went onto to a life of horrible crime and is now finally paying the price... what a waste!"

9/11/03:

No dreams.

9/12/03:

    I vaguely remember something about being in a high-rise apartment that was huge and expensive and glamorous. There was some strange sculptural thing made of twisted metal and strips of cloth and cardboard that hung from the ceiling in the main room. It took up the whole room and was very hard to get around... it had some sharp edges. I soon saw, or "knew" that some of the strips of cloth and cardboard extended off of the sculpture... onto the floor... over to the door... under the door... down the hallway... into the elevator shaft... down the elevator shaft... out into the lobby... out the lobby door... and onto the sidewalk... where some old man was connected to them. This was relevant somehow.

9/13/03 - 9/16/03:

No dreams... haven't been sleeping well.

9/17/03:

    I am with some guys that I don't know and we are traveling... by car. I think at one point my old college friend Shane is with us. We seem to be in Paris. We are staying at the huge palace of some famous cloth-pattern designer... who is an overweight, bald, older man who has a reputation for being very mean. His wife lives there too and she is very nice. Also many people who work for him making cloth live there as well (there is a factory on the premises where they work).
    For some reason all my friends go out on the town one day but I have to stay and make cloth with the other workers. There is one room that looks like a giant living room decorated in rococo style... little ceramic things and mirrors with gold frames and stuff everywhere... and on one side of this room is a huge loom... I mean HUGE. The loom has a shelf about waist-high that has giant rolls of different colored yarn... then the yarn strands are separately pulled out and sitting in place to be fed out and weaved into certain patterns.
    We all sit down in place in front of the loom. Everyone knows what to do but me. The other workers are mostly women and they all seem foreign... maybe Indian. They are all very nice and they show me what to do. I'm doing pretty good weaving a strand of deep navy blue yarn strands into a kind of thick braided string... but then I make a mistake and I get the yard tangled all over the place. This is bad as it seems to screw up the entire loom-sitting-standing session for everyone... like the whole afternoon's work is ruined. Weirdly no one seems mad. Why am I even doing this if I don't know how to do it?
    The cloth maker's wife comes in and reassures me and gives me a silver tray with an ornate teapot full of tea and plates of raisin scones. She laughs and tells me it's okay. She also hands me a silver colored cell phone to call my friends. I call them as I eat the scones. All the work women leave the room. I also have a TV set on in front of me playing the local Paris news (with no sound). I talk to my friends. As I do I can kind of "see" them driving around Paris... laughing and goofing off. I also see on the news that there is a car somewhere in Paris transporting a young man who is to be assassinated (with electric chair or lethal injection or something) at a location in the city. The cameras are following the car to it's location because it's an important case. I keep talking to my friends and ask them when they are coming back. Suddenly the mean cloth maker comes in and sees the bad mistake strand of yard I made (that screwed the whole thing up) lying on the floor. He is smiling and laughing... but also getting very angry (a weird combination). I am still on the phone, eating scones and watching the news as this guy runs around the room mad about the yarn mistake. I carry the phone with me into the huge, mirrored, ornate hallway of the home and watch him as he kicks the clump of navy blue yard like a rag doll down the hall... yelling the whole time.
    Then a slight scenario shift: I am back in the living room... but it now seems to be evening. The only light on in the room is the TV set. Me and a bunch of people (the workers?) are watching the news about the car with the soon-to-be-dead guy being transported in it. The wife of the cloth maker comes in and goes around the room and one-by-one looks at each of us individually and says "Soda candy chips?" She says it to each person... with a thick French accent. "Soda candy chips?" "Soda candy chips?" She blurs the words together so it sounds like one long word... "Sodacandychips?" I soon realize that this is not a specific question... but a commonly known term in France that means "Would you like a snack on me?" and not necessarily, specifically, soda or candy or chips. It is a weird English/French hybrid slang term that is used all the time. As she is going around the room I see in the darkness that some people already have cherry Twizzlers and nacho cheese Doritoes. She leaves after asking everyone because no one wants anything.
    Then I go into this long, giant bathroom that is adjacent to the TV room. There are people in there. The condition of the bathroom is cruddy compared to the rest of the house. There is a window looking out onto the front road that leads to the front of the house. I still have my cell phone with me and I seem to still have my friends driving around town on the line. I see a girl in there in the bathroom that has a green bathrobe on and black hair and glasses. She is complaining about the horrible condition of the skin on her legs. She has these giant bumps all over her legs because of something that happened. She is asking me is she should seek the treatment of an "exfoliationist" as she calls it. I feel her legs and talk to her about it. At one point I think I tell her to "steam" her legs. She's like "What will that do?" and I go "It will clean out the pores and promote healthier skin."
    Then I see a young blond girl sitting on the bathroom counter looking at herself forlornly in the mirror. I ask her what's wrong and she says she is sad about the young man who is going to be put to death in Paris today. The girl with bad skin legs looks up from fiddling with her legs and says "Yea me too." I look over at the bathroom counter and see the rag-doll scrap clump of navy blue yarn from earlier, the mistake I made, just laying there. I put my phone up to my ear and hear my friends saying to me "Okay we are pulling up to the house now!" I look out the window and see and hear the car drive past and up to the front of the house. I look through the door into the TV room and see the footage of the car with the soon-to-be-dead young man in it still being broadcast. I realize that the car with the to-be-assasinted young guy in it is my friend's car! I see the footage on TV of the car pulling up to the house I'm in. Everyone in the room seems forlorn and I start to feel frightened.
 

9/18/03:

No dreams.

9/19/03:

    I'm out on my fire escape and it is in the afternoon. I seem to have this little chihuahua dog in my lap... and am sitting on the window sill with my feet out on the fire escape. I also seem to be doing something with the window pane... that is open above my head. I have my arms up and behind me and am fiddling with the window pane. Soon I realize the window pane has no glass... so it's like a picture frame. I keep pushing the frame upwards with my arms... and pushing out on the fire escape with my feet, for leverage. In my head... I keep imagining that the fire escape is going to become dislodged from the side of the building and fall forwards... off. I keep thinking this over and over, but always reassure myself that it won't. Time passes and I'm still with the dog and working with the window frame with my arms.
    Soon... I look down at the fire escape and see that it has dislodged from the building slightly... and may fall. And soon.. it does. I watch it fall forwards onto some parked cars and hear a few people in the street yell "whoooo!" and "Wow!" but mostly people don't seem to care or notice. The thing is, I am stuck on the window sill with just the back of my butt on the ledge... and I am holding the window pane (which is dislodged from the window) in both my arms... upwards and behind me in an awkward position (I can't dislodge my arms without falling)... and the dog is in my lap (shivering). I keep teetering forward because just the very tip of my ass is leaning on the window ledge with a huge drop below me. I'm terrified!
    Soon... behind me I hear Domenic come into the apartment. I scream "Domenic help!" and he says "Oh what do you want now Mr. Allen?" jokingly and goes into the bathroom. I start yelling relentlessly "Domenic the fire escape fell and I'm stuck come help I need help now now now now now!!!" and he comes over and pulls me into the apartment. Whew!
    Later some neighbors knock on my door and I let them in. I assume they want to talk to me about the fire escape falling. They start talking to me about something completely different.

9/20/03 - 9/22/03:

No dreams.

9/23/03:

> From: Mark Allen <logan5@ix.netcom.com>
> Date: Tue, 23 Sep 2003 18:12:23 -0400
> To: Brian Turner
> Subject: Your show was DREAMY!!!
>
> I fell asleep in my apartment with the windows open and your show blaring at
> top volume out of my speakers... about the time the Yo La Tengo/Yoko piece
> started... I guess I was exhausted. I slept the whole three hours - drifting
> in and out of consciousness... and the music you played and your voice was
> like a soundtrack to my dreams. First I dreamed that I could "see" everyone in
> my life as the animal that they were... like floating above their heads. My
> friend Gregory was a kitten... my brother was a polar bear... my mom was a
> eel... my roommate Domenic was this weird retarded three-eyed bird... and I was a
> snake(!)... then I dreamed I woke up and my eyes were these infinite layers of
> long, white, soft eyelashes that fluttered in front of my face... and I could
> kind of "pet" them with my hands... then when you were talking about the sax
> player who died I dreamed that I was in this kind of outdoor arena and your
> voice was booming over the speaker system... and I looked down and there was
> this little miniature version of ME with a kind of big head rubbing my left
> hand with it's tiny arms... then I woke up and I was actually rubbing my left
> hand with my right hand and you were playing Fushitsusha.
>
> What a three hour trip!
>
> Thanks!
> Mark

9/24/03 - 9/27/03:

Too sick to record dreams.

9/28/03:

    I am staying in some amazingly nice hotel. The hallway that leads into my room (and where all the other room doors face) is incredibly ornate... with red carpet and gold-framed mirrors and Rococo-style furniture and pillars and stuff. It looks like the hotel may be in London or Paris. Inside my room the decor and feel is very different. All the lights in my room are golden and auburn. All the furniture and walls are beige or shades of tan or brown. It is very quiet in my room - kind of heavenly.
    I soon realize that my brother is staying somewhere else in the hotel... on another floor. I also realize that my parents are staying in the room right next door to mine. I know I will be staying in this hotel for a long time... and feel it will be awkward running into them, or possibly running into them during normal coming and going. Days seem to pass and I never run into them... but I do seem to hear them out in the hall sometimes... disembodies voices. One time I look through the little fish-eye lens and out into the blurry, Rococo, ornate, red-carpeted hallway (blurry because of the dirty peephole lens) and it is empty... no one is there. I don't even know if they know I am living next to them.
    My bed is against the wall that is next their room... and I sometimes hear them getting ready for bed. My bed is this weird flat beige-cushoined thing built into the wall... it has silk sheets (white) and more silk sheets kind of hanging down from the sides to make this kind of mosquito-net cocoon thing out of the bed. Two sides of the bed are right up against the corner of the room (a padded tan colored wallpaper thing) and do not have the sheets hanging. Everything in the room is so quiet... like all the cloth and silk and padded surfaces diffuse all sound. Plus there is a golden, sepia toned light in the whole room. I hear the constant hum of air conditioners.
    Anyway... one night I am asleep in this bed... and I am thinking about my parents in the next room... sleeping right next to me now five feet away on the other side of the wall. At one point I am lying there, kind of half awake, half dreaming... and I start to feel something weird moving along my left calf. I look down and see the fingers of my mother's hand stroking my calf lovingly. She has worker her arm through the wall somehow (though I don't see a big hole, just the bunched-up padded wall swelled up around where her arm is poking through up to her shoulder) and is stroking my leg. I freak out and get up and look back at the bed. When I do, her arm stops stroking and just lays there. It's looks really freaky.

9/29/03:

    I am in my apartment in the middle of the night being woken up by my old friend Robert Garcia on the telephone. I haven't heard from him in about two years so I'm surprised to hear from him... plus wonder why he's calling at this hour (It should be noted that in real life my friend Robert grew up in Spanish Harlem and has a lot of relatives that are supposedly real psychics - often a subject of interesting conversations between us). I pick up the phone and ask him why he's calling in the middle of the night.
    Robert says "Mark... I have something important to tell you..."
        - and I'm like "What?"
    and Robert goes "Do you have somewhere you're going tomorrow... some appointment of something... something important?"
        - and I say "Well... yea... I have a client tomorrow afternoon... but that's it..."
    and Robert says "Something official... like you're showing up with a really big black briefcase?"
        - and I go "...no, well... I mean... I show up with my big massage table... I guess it kind of looks like a giant black briefcase when it's all folded up and in it's case."
    Robert goes "Yea... that's it. And the hotel is right in mid-town... around the 40's?"
        - and I say "Yea... how did you know that?"
    "Don't go" Robert says quickly and adamantly... "Don't go. Something terrible is going to happen."
        - "Huh?" I say... "What do you mean? I..."
    "Just don't go Mark... whatever you do don't show up for that appointment... I'm serious."
        - I say "But I mean... it's a new client and it's in just about 5 hours... I can't cancel now... besides I know..."
    "Mark I'm serious... don't go."
        - I go "??? (silence)"
    Robert then says "Mark... if you go to that appointment tomorrow you're going to die."
        Then I wake up.
 

9/30/03 - 10/11/03:

Took another little break there.
 


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