a dream

9 12 2008

i awoke this morning from a highly detailed dream.  perhaps they’re all highly detailed, but i mean to say that i remembered this one very well.  i was involved in some sort of game that took place in faraway jungles.  there were many of us there: perhaps 7 men and 7 women, and the native people were controlling the game.  it seemed as though it was set up reality-show style, unfortunately, but there weren’t cameras or outsiders.  there was also no physical prize to be won; the point of the game was to be challenged and see how strong you were.  the people there, i think, were basically people who believed there was more to the world than what could be seen, and were seeking to know it.  there was to be a game each evening until only one was left.  the first game had us in pairs, a man and a woman together.

the pairs were put onto floating planks in a swamp-like area of the jungle.  most pairs had a few planks and logs either coupled together or very near to each other, but ours was only a single plank with nothing much near it.  there were dozens of giant flowers all around us, with long, whispy lashes all around their perimeters, and they seemed to wave gently all the time, though i detected no wind.  suddenly we noticed that there were hundreds of monkeys, little tree-swingers, gathering in the twilight canopy above us.  one of the natives spoke, and explained that every year, these flowers proliferate and pose a terrible threat to the monkeys, but that the monkeys had devised their own plan to deal with it.  we were to watch the monkeys and make our escapes when we had seen their feat.

soon after, some of the monkeys began to position themselves around the canopy above us, and eventually, a couple of them dropped themselves.  as they were landing, the giant flowers near them snapped violently shut, even the ones that were only tangentially close to the ones that engulfed the monkeys.  the long lashes, it seemed were feelers that told it when to try to trap game.  suddenly, many monkeys, maybe a dozen, maybe two, dropped from the trees above and set off a massive flower trap sequence.  amazingly, the ways that they were hitting were sending the flowers in all kinds of directions, and the flowers were largely snapping each other.  lashes were flying everywhere, stems were standing alone, monkeys were swimming away (or not), and within a half of a minute, the action was spent, and all of the dangerous flowers were sprung or destroyed.  and thus the monkey population was safer, by the sacrifice of some.

then it was our turn to “escape” from the area.  i don’t think there was much danger, but the point seemed to be to get out without swimming.  everyone had some sort of clue attached to their spot.  we looked around and saw people taking parts of their floats apart and reconfiguring them, but we had only the one plank and no tools, unlike the rest.  our clue said something about franchising, which was strange until we realized that everyone else was building out, but also inadvertantly making structures close enough to us that we could use different parts of everyone else’s structures to transport ourselves.  i don’t remember how, exactly, but we did so, and put our mark on everyone else’s planks to arrive at the shore.  everyone made it fine; i don’t think the “games” were meant to determine a winner as much as teach everyone what they needed to learn.

afterwards, everyone came back to my house to hang out and relax.  we started to chat on the walk back and realized that we were all of the same basic ilk, looking for something not entirely determined but happy to be doing so.  i was talking to one guy who i found to be maddeningly familiar, but found myself continually trying to involve a nearby girl, who happened to know the guy i was talking to from before.  i knew no one in our group.  except this guy, who seemed so familiar.  the girl was reticent, though i could tell that she was interested in talking to me more.  she just wasn’t sure she should.  i don’t know why.  at one point, the guy was trying to get her to be more comfortable, and she ended up saying something about how she was here because she was trying to find new ways of exploration, that she had taken all the hallucinigens she’ll ever take in this world.

we got to my house and people sat around, talking or playing cards or whatever while i tried to be a good host and get some snacks and drinks out for everyone.  the guy and the girl sat in the living room nearby, and we continued our conversation.  my friend paul then showed up and sat on the couch, though he wasn’t part of what we were doing.  nobody minded, of course.  someone put a movie in or something and most people’s attention was taken to that.  i was asking paul and the girl what they wanted to drink.  paul told me, and i got it for him.  the girl wanted to know what there was, and i started telling her things.  i gave her so many choices that she got up and came into the kitchen to see.  the things she was considering were the non-alcoholic choices.  we started talking instead of pouring a drink, and it didn’t take long before we both realized that there was an undercurrent to our meeting, though i think both of us were surprised that it was so strong.  still, we chatted away, knowing that we were only buying time before we kissed.

after a few minutes, when we’d gotten about as physically close to each other as we could without touching, she whispered to me “let’s just go to your bedroom,” and i led her into the washing machine room just off the kitchen.  “this is where i sleep,” i said, grinning, and she smiled and shook her head at me.  we slid our arms behind each other and let our lips touch; then turned our heads a little, watching each others’ eyes, not with lust, but with curiosity, and let our lips touch again in a new way.  we didn’t know each other, yet we did. we touched lips again, never even blinking, and finally started to give each other gentle, shallow kisses, still shifting our faces, even shuffling our feet a little in a musicless dance of greeting.  soon, our feet stopped, and our moment full of intent had arrived.  we looked into each others’ eyes for a moment and registered the trust and peace contained therein; we pressed forward and let our lips kiss fully for the first time.  soft at first, then a little deeper, exploring each level fully before moving further, slowly and steadily moving toward the moment that the kiss was all there was, and we were empty vessels, the whole of our beings playing with and through each other within our lips.  Our kiss.

i awoke remembering this girl as though i should.  as though she was still with me, still waiting for me.  as i lay in bed and thought about my dream, some of the things that she and the guy who was her friend began to ring bells in my conscious mind.  Though they looked nothing like them in my dream (well, she still had long, brown hair), I realized that they were just like two people I met at my meditation course a couple of months ago.  Zach and Anastasia.  They’d gone to the same college together, a very small liberal school in St. Augustine, Floriday, where they both still lived.  They didn’t know they’d run into each other at the course.  It just happened.


Two Dreams

16 02 2008

Dream 1

I  was at my mother’s house, worrying myself over what kinds of things I needed to pack and how much money I should bring.  Lauren’s parents had invited us to spend 10 days at a beach house that they’d rented (nevermind the fact that Lala would never submit to spending so long with them).  I was alone in Goldsboro, though, and kept taking a Caprice Classic that was at the house into town to pick up things I thought I needed.  Lala was getting annoyed with me.  “Just bring clothes.  They’re taking care of everything else.  This is on them.”  Once I drove all the way up the road and decided to come back, but drove all the way in reverse.  I decided that the Caprice Classic was the best car I’d ever driven for backing up–it had great visibility and had very stable steering.

Dream 2

It was Vivek’s bachelor party weekend, and presumably we were in Montreal.  The only people I knew were Vivek and Amol, but the group seemed pretty laid-back and fun.  The night we arrived, we sat around for a while and joked around, had some beers, relaxed.  Somebody told a joke about a pregnant woman, and the punchline was about her tilting her belly to the sky and offering her progeny up to Yoda… and it was the funniest thing I’d ever heard.  I couldn’t stop laughing, even.

Later, we went to a bar, and it surprised me by being pretty cool–the music was good and wasn’t overwhelmingly loud, it wasn’t too smoky, the lighting was dim but adequate, and the bartenders were friendly.  I kept seeing a girl with hair that I thought looked plastic and I really wanted to go talk to her to get a better look, but before I had the chance, our group was moving to the back of the bar, where a room I hadn’t previously noticed was bright with fluorescent lights.  There were two bouncers at a door that said “ID Required: Must be 27 or Older.”  I was alarmed and wondered what could possibly be back there that a 26 year old wasn’t allowed to see.  Everyone else went through but Vivek and me, and he put his arm around me and told me this was gonna be great.  We gave our ID’s.  The bouncer held onto mine as though he thought it was a fake, but after a moment let us through.

The next room was extremely dark, but there was an illuminated doorway at the end of it, and we went to it.  We walked through and saw an immense open space, dimly but adequately lit, kind of bluish, like the bar up front.  There was an olympic sized swimming pool in the room, and lots of strippers walked around the perimeter.  Wow.  There were lots of guys in the end near us, calling strippers in and having “water dances” performed, but our group was being led to the far end, where our own set of girls was awaiting us.  Everyone dropped to their undies and jumped into the pool, myself included, and grabbed onto the wall, where apparently all of us were going to get some kind of water lap dances.  A lead girl was walking up and down the line, pairing up strippers with guys and telling them what they’d each be getting.  Everything sounded pretty dirty, and there were some skinny asian guys in our group that looked to be nervous.  Terms like “pelvic thrash” and “coochie face” were being thrown around.  I pushed off the wall and started floating back.  I heard her say that she was short a girl, and I knew I was the one who’d be left out, but I didn’t mind.  I floated all the way to the middle point of the pool and ran into a wall.

They were still organizing my group.  I saw a little bottle on the side of the pool.   It was pale yellow, had a drawing of a koala on it, and read “Lotion for your face and hands and crotch and cock and balls.”  I was shocked, and realized it was meant to be lubricant for added sensitivity while the girls were doing their pool dances on you.  I looked around and saw that these bottles were all over the sides of the pool.  Eww.  But funny.  I went for my phone to take a picture of it, but realized I didn’t have it.  I thought about going to get my clothes and take a picture, but didn’t remember where they were.

The next day, Amol and I were sitting around a regular outside pool, and a few of my mom’s friends were there.  The only one I remember is Kathy Longmire, who doesn’t live in North Carolina anymore, but who was saying that she understood why none of her far-off friends thought it was cool to come visit her in NC, which is why she has to travel so much to keep in touch.  It also happens she was pregnant.  And she, already lying back, motioned to the sky and made the same comment about commending her progeny to Yoda that someone had made in the joke the night before, and Amol and I looked at each other and burst into laughter.

A Dream

15 02 2008

It was Dr. Sandler’s retirement party, and maybe 20 of us were there.  Dr. Sandler was wearing a UNC basketball jersey, and we’d just been to a game to start the whole thing off.  We won, everyone was in a good mood.  We were in a breakout room somewhere, and while we were boistrous and having a good time, so was a group next to us, so I went over to see what they were doing.  When I came back, people were giving gifts, and I felt badly because I didn’t have one for him.  I forget what most of them were, but one was a wah-wah pedal, and he seemed pretty excited about it.  I realized it was a good idea to get him things for new hobbies.  After a minute, Doc grabbed me and said that we had to go down, because the team would be coming out pretty soon.  Apparently he was going to try to get his jersey signed by the team, and we were near their locker room.  Everyone else got excited and started leaving, but his wife stayed behind.  I stayed for a minute and talked to her.  I can’t remember in the least what we said.

A Dream

13 02 2008

I was working in a job not dissimilar to my own, but I was in a different building, and I was sharing an office with Roy Williams. It was a long, narrow office with a large window at the end. I was pretty excited, but he was busy studying something in his chair by the window, so I didn’t introduce myself right away. The walls were dark oak panels with filled-up bookshelves and wall lamps that provided a warm, old library type glow. There were papers everywhere. It was cluttered but cozy. My desk was on the wall a few feet from the window.

I looked around and found, on a desk near the door, an large envelope with a window, like the ones they send school pictures in. Inside were a couple of large sports cards. They were like ones I have from when I was young–some photographer would take a picture of us in our uniforms and make them into sports cards, so we could feel like we were important, and we could trade them. But these were 5×7’s, and I could only see the one on top. It was Tyler Hansbrough from when he was young–I’d say around 12 or 13–and he was wearing a North Carolina jersey, number 12. He looked a lot like he does now, only a little chubby. His cheeks were flushed and he wasn’t quite smiling. Across the bottom of the card, there were four lines running the width of the card, repeating “North Carolina,” and the colors graded from Carolina blue to white and back again, several times.

I picked it up and took it over on impulse, calling him “coach” to get his attention. I told him that I had found a couple of my old sports cards a while ago and had given them to my boss as a joke, and that I thought it was funny that Tyler found his and gave him one. He laughed and said something about it, I forget what, and I put the envelope back.

A student of mine came in and started asking me questions, semi-frantically, and after a minute of my not being able to calm her down, Roy asked us if we could go talk about it somewhere else so he could concentrate. “No problem,” I said, and we went into the hall. We walked out into a large, fancy, Elizabethan-style parlor, with a fireplace and lots of cushioned benches. We decided on a spot to sit and talk and started to walk towards it.

End of dream.

A Dream

4 02 2008

I went to San Francisco because I’d somehow found out about a job I might enjoy. I think a friend who already lived out there found out about it and told me to come. I arrived at a rickety old wooden building near the bay, and as I climbed the narrow, unadorned stairs to the business, the smell of salt water got stronger and stronger. The wood in the whole place was grainy, being unfinished or finished very long ago. It was all grey and utilitarian, with little or no decoration. It was a little dark, but reasonable, and I was grateful and impressed that there were no fluorescent lights. There were lamps here and there, but the rest of the light was natural–there were large paned windows high up on the second floor of the narrow store, which was open to the first level, and which was accessible by a spiral staircase. It was an old book store, and the shelves were high along the walls, and short, maybe four feet, in the middle. There were maybe four or five rows of these short bookshelves within the width of the store, with a long counter on the side you face as you enter.

There were a lot of employees for an old, musty bookstore, and they all instantly acted as my friends who were excited about my working with them. They showed me around the store and I began to see how special it was to them, and simply how special it was. It had a terrific energy about it, and everyone was grateful to be there, with those books, in that space, with those people. There might not have even been any customers; everyone was an employee, that I can remember. They were mostly younger people, 20 to 35 or so in age, and none of them seemed dressed “appropriately,” for whatever that’s worth. Several of the guys weren’t wearing shirts, and there was neon hair, ripped shorts, bare feet, and on and on.

All of the employees started yelling out things to me about how to get the job, what things to say I cared about, what books to say I liked, et cetera, but they were all halfway joking. People physically closer to me told me that I was going to get the job because they could tell I was one of them. They told me not to worry, and to be myself. I started walking around the store and asking them questions, but it wasn’t slow and methodical–it was more like a show, and everyone was doing their jobs with exaggerated movement, with extra joi de vivre, listening to me. I started making suggestions for how things could get even better, and people were responding enthusiastically.

An older, haggardly woman then came in, with a large white dog, damp from presumably playing on the beach, and nobody paid her any mind. I instinctively took her to be the owner, and I continued on my tour and talk, figuring this was to be as good an interview as could be, seeing me interact with the store and the people. I was getting excited anyway, and didn’t want to lose my momentum.

Sometime after I spoke about being able to design a database to be able to keep track of our inventory and making things easier to find, she cut me off, and introduced herself as the owner of the shop. Everyone stopped working and filtered down to good vantage points to see what she was going to say. They were all holding their breaths. I don’t remember how she said it, but she told me, in grizzled disregarding fashion that thinly veiled her thrill, that I can start whenever I wanted, provided I’d shut my mouth.

Everyone cheered, and I was the newest member of some weird bookstore. I remember also thinking that this whole crew was kind of like a more functional Empire Records gang… and I got mad at myself in the dream for the comparison. I even almost didn’t record it here. But, hey, for veracity’s sake and all that.