To kick off the new year with a proper for-lunch-I-had-a-cheese-sandwich post, here’s a recounting of a recent dream:
January 26: Last night I dreamt that for some reason I was going home because I had heart trouble, and I think my orthodontist was there and he pulled my heart out of my chest, looked at it, saw a wound, held it closed with some tweezers for a few minutes, let go, saw it didn’t heal completely, so he held it shut for awhile longer, and I asked him how long would it be before I, uh, noticed anything, and he said, probably an hour or so.
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Tuesday, November 4, 2003
It was late. I was in bed. The lights were already out; the room was faintly illuminated by the glow of a nearby street lamp. In my semi-conscious state I managed to eke out a coherent thought. Did she have a key or did I leave the door open? If I left the door open I’m glad it’s her and not some murdering lunatic coming through that door…
I was still cold under my blanket. I didn’t mind when she crawled into my bed. Reflexively I welcomed the added warmth with arms wide open, despite having the faint notion that this was a little unusual. I mustered another coherent thought. I thought we had agreed we were happy the way things are. Why is she here at this hour of the night? It didn’t matter to me why she was here. I was still cold under my blanket.
“I’ve been doing some thinking… I’m ready.” I held her a little tighter as my mind slowly spurred up with signs of comprehension. Oh. Well, fine timing you have. No, I wasn’t mad; I just wasn’t ready. Not knowing what else to do I looked over at her and pressed my cheek to her shoulder.
My heartbeat quickened as I became fully conscious. Dammit. I was never able to fall asleep with someone in bed with me. (Performance anxiety.) No matter. She was here now. I ran my fingers lightly through her hair and brought my face closer to hers, with feelings I had banished to the recesses of my mind–
“One step at a time,” she said.
She held me tightly as she gradually fell asleep, her head resting on my chest, while I lay there trying to make sense of it all. This was unexpected, and I was suspicious. I desperately wanted to rejoice in a happiness free of baggage, but I questioned her motives. Distrust let forth the flood of adrenaline until finally the beating of my heart overwhelmed me to the point of breakdown, and I went to splash some cold water on my face to calm myself down. In the bathroom I leaned against the sink to get as close to the mirror as I could for my sleep-deprived near-sighted eyes. I looked at myself and said, I must be dreaming. I turned on the faucet, reached down and scooped some of the cold liquid spouting forth.
* * *
I was still cold under my blanket. It was three in the morning.
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I had some wild dreams last night. I don’t remember the first one, which occurred during my main round of sleep (2am-7am), but the second one involved me flying to Los Angeles, landing at LAX and then making the pilot stop at a Taco Bell which was, strangely enough, located on a taxiway.
There was also a lot more green than I remember there being in Los Angeles. Like, real trees n’at.
Today’s noontime L&O rerun on TNT featured what I think is one of the more classic moments on the show:
[The police are searching a woman's apartment and come across a locked chest.]
Woman: It’s my hope chest.
[Ben Stone opens it and finds bondage equipment.]
Stone: What were you hoping for?!
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Tuesday, October 29, 2002
So, the photolog has been set up… and in transferring everything over and making sure it’s working, I realize I haven’t posted there in awhile. Soon, soon… quality, not quantity. Go and look at my photo album, if you haven’t already. For me, the novelty of having integrated the album design and the satisfaction of having mastered the intricacies of the album script have already worn off, and I’ve seen those pictures a thousand times over, so it’s kind of dull to me, but who knows? It might be fun for you.
Everything’s up and running here, from what I can tell. “We have normality. I repeat, we have normality. Any difficulties you continue to experience are your own problem.” If anything’s broken or inconsistent, let me know. Don’t know how often I’ll be checking in, since my mind is being occupied by getting ready for ISMRM abstract submissions and the other various responsibilities I unwittingly signed myself up for.
But, just a thing or two to post: for a couple of days this past week I’ve dreamt of people that used to be rather prominent in my life. One dream had both Janice, a former fellow Cooper inmate, and Jenni, from the days of the maize, in it. Another (one which I took some time to document, in fact) featured ba ba ra ra. It was a strange dream, and it prompted me to send her an equally strange email.
In all, they were bittersweet dreams, in which I was both relieved and disappointed to wake up.
Thursday, August 22, 2002
So I just had a strange bizarre dream. When I woke up, I felt miserable. That may or may not have had anything to do with the dream.
I was back in New York, apparently riding the G train. The train went express for a few stops, headed for what seemed to me like the 63rd Street tunnel, and then we came to a sudden halt near a station whose name seemed peculiar. Despite that, I can’t remember what it was. It sounded like a town in the Old West, or had connotations of such–maybe a cross between “Stealer’s Wheel” and “Spuyten Duyvil.” Anyway, we came to a stop near there. Some people wondered out loud what station this was, and I said, “Oh, this is the old Court House Square.” We got out of the train–all ten of us, it looked like; and we emerged into a large cavern that, surprisingly enough, had adequate lighting, almost at mood-lighting levels.
We found ourselves sharing the cave with a couple of specimens of giant cockroach. I’m talking monster-size proportions or larger, with tong-like mandibular extensions à la Bart Simpson’s giant mechanical ants that could chop a human body in half like a cigar cutter. And they looked hungry.
Also looking hungry were a couple of rather largish guys. A Domino’s Pizza deliveryman showed up, asking if anyone had ordered a large cheese pizza. We look around, shrugging our shoulders. I thought maybe we should get the pizza anyway and feed it to the cockroaches, but no one was making a move. Since no one was claiming the pizza, the two hungrymen deliberated between themselves whether or not to take it. “How much?” one of them asked. “Five bucks,” said the pizza guy. So they bought the pizza, and off they went. A friend of mine said to me, “Suckers. They got ripped off. Paul got a much better deal.” I wasn’t listening, though. I was too busy thinking about getting the hell out of there. Oh well, at least maybe the two guys with the pizza would keep the cockroaches busy–and perhaps serve as a meal if they indeed were as hungry as they looked.
Then I woke up.
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