mom's dead

brickyard pizza, water. late night bowl of frosted flakes.

My mom has died of cancer. I knew it was coming but they couldn't contact me to get me there to see her in time because I was out drinking. I am exceedingly morose.

thai businessmen

afternoon beer blast with C&D at brickyard & then pizza & beer at the house. went to bed mildly drunk but not wasted.

first portion of dream is lost.

Josh and I are Thai businessmen, we wear cheap grey suits, kinda 70's. We're on an airplane to Thailand. Trouble, someone fires a missle at the plane. The pilot makes a huge spiralling maneuver to avoid being hit. Josh is standing in front of me at the time, and the hatch blows open, just across from us. I hold onto the lapels of his cheap suit jacket to keep him from flying out the door. I'm not buckled, myself, but manage to stay in my own seat and hold him by sheer willpower. Once the plane is stable again, Josh buckles in, fast. Another missle, the plane goes into a straight nosedvie, barely pulls out before impact. I can see through the front of the plane, almost a second sight. So my experience of the oncoming ground is very immediate.

We land, but there is no room for us at the airport, we have to land on a highway. The plane skids as it lands, spiraling. It is broken into pieces, but no one is hurt. Everyone gets out okay [do they? are there immediate ghosts?], but we need to get to the safety of the hotel as soon as possible. We are herded by officials. We make it to the hotel. We are ourselves again, no longer Thai Businessmen.

The hotel is very old and very maze-like. There are doors everywhere that open into a variety of different hallways, into adjoining rooms, into tiny passageways. Some exploration, but we mostly just go to our room. I wish we had beer. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small black boy, he backs up out of sight into a closet crowded with clothes and junk. Again, something out of the corner of my eye. Turk from Scrubs gently places an 8 pack [?] of beers that look like mickey's on the floor. As he backs into the closet, he puts a finger to his lips. "Shhhhhhh..." A moment later he returns with another 8 pack. I turn to Josh and say, "Look! It's Turk!" There's some inferrence that Josh would be attracted to him. But he gets all 6-year-old silly and says "No, I could never think of Turk that way." A small hatch in the wall opens into a tapering passageway that looks into another bedroom, I see Turk walk past. There is someone in the bed, I think it's Carla.

steve's dead

roasted taters, apple sauce, bbq "chicken," choco chip cookies

First part of dream is lost, but someone tells me that Steve is dead, in the course of...a normal day? Don't remember.

Jump to the next day, it is sinking in that Steve is dead. I get dressed to go out, but I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Just need to leave the house. Living with my mom in a squalorous house, much like 406 1/2 Princeton but darker. I take off. I know that people expect me "somewhere" but I don't intend to show up there. I'll walk around. I wanna get drunk. I don't wanna get drunk. Reeling around in alleyways of a fictionalized Vassar/Girard area, Nob Hill's asshole. I remember that Steve used to go to a sort of punk rock AA where they would talk it out and then usually go get drunk, I decide to show up there. I find it, back in alleyways, in a little pub/cafe, no one's there, I leave just as a car of young skins & punx pull up, I don't want to talk to them, I wonder if they know Steve's dead. They don't look happy.

I take off for the church. Steve's funeral is now. That's where I was expected. A giant Gothic revival cathedral next to the original ruins, which are fenced in and overgrown with brush. Mostly vertical skeletal elements left of bleached sandstone. I don't want to go. I keep walking, around the end of the church and behind. I can hear Mark at the front of the church talking to Steve's mom [who is Joyce Summers from Buffy], asking if she's seen me. She doesn't remember me, she doesn't know. He says I'm "young, bald, & white." I shout a couple of Oi!'s but Mark doesn't hear me. She's not sure. I gotta get gone. But I find a cellphone-shaped flask of booze in my flight pocket, maybe could go to the funeral and get drunk in the back. No, that's no good, I should just get gone.

I go home. Mom doesn't know. I go in my room. Knock on the door. Mark has come to find me. He knows I'll be fucked up if I actually miss the service. He's right. I try to get dressed more appropriately quickly.

My dream degenerates from there. We don't go to the service, or at least I don't get to see it. My mind becomes obsessed about Steve dying, why do good people die early, how could they cut him up like that, how could they shoot him like that...very unfocused, looping.

don't fuck with my boots

early dinner of calzone & sleep at steph's house

I emerge onto the street with a couple of other people. We're in front of the Frontier, by the bus stop. In the sky is what drew our attention, a gigantic rocket/glider. Glowing electric green, red tip; thin, flat long wings at the middle and the tail. It comes up into view from a great distance but must be huge for how large it is even from here. It begins to make giant looping arcs over the campus, and it seems to be getting nearer. I genuinely wonder if it is going to crash down on us. But as it becomes much nearer, it is also getting smaller. I realize that the man next to me-- the big lug that used to run the Lobo Theater, but now has one arm stumped at the elbow; he is shirtless and very hairy-- is controling the thing. Suddenly it jumps to right in front of us, it becomes half of a cantaloupe, he is drawing it in, it spirals tightly, it becomes a red kidney-shaped baloon at his fingertips, then it sszzzzlllllipppp is gone. We congratulate him.

View changes, so that we can see into the parking lot between Kinko's & the new dorms, from the Campus Street side. A guy comes out of the dorms, and three people jump out of a red Miata-lookin' car and lay into him, knock him down, hit him with a crowbar in the chest. I want to get over there and see what's the shit, but I realize that not only do I not have my boots on, but I'm holding my clothes. I rush to get into them, but the action is over. The guy seems okay, though, as he walks over toward us.

A tour of places on campus for an art class I'm in with Adrienne Salinger. SHe has a list of places we must find, the red, white, and blue zones, as well as the green zone. My friends and I figure out what she's talking about, we find them, and then rejoin the class for discussion as we pass by them all again. At the last stop, we go into a large building. It is a club or sorts, and a performance theater. As we come in, people are congratulating those on stage for a really good idea, it should be made into a movie. A coffin is on the stage, maybe some people dressed as mortitos. It is a hippy shit club, but also a gay club, so I leave well enough alone & don't start trouble.

Claire Bankhurst & Chicken Leg show up, but it's time to go. We're trying to make our way back to the door, but some stupid hippy chick froom the kitchen with a skillet full of garlic chili oil is messing with us, bloking our way. She acts like she is going to pour the oil on Chicken Leg, but I step in. So she dumps it on my boots. My rage is hard to fathom. I chase her through the club, screaming my head off. I seriously intend to brain her.

I finally catch her, shouot her into blubbering tears. I tell her she fucked up my boots and I can't afford new ones. She looks at me disdainfully, condescendingly, and say's she doubts that they cost any money. The chase in on again, and she knows she's really in trouble this time. She loses me for a moment, another hippy girl stands there looking confused and frightened. I ask her where her friend is, she points in a direction. I know she's lying and I tell her so. I wheel around and my prey is trying to shut herself into a bathroom, screaming. Screaming bloody murder, I bash the door open with my head. She is abolutely terrified.