lost abroad (again)

il vicino pasta w/ shrooms & chile, a sprite, water, a piece of candy later.

I'm at my place, a ramshackle, dark place, more like 406 1/2. I'm bored as shit, so I wander into the alley, for some reason l=sit or lay down in the dirt. Flipside Todd, maybe Clayton, and a couple of their friends appear, turns out Todd lives right there behind me, they'd been hanging out, but they'd be up for doing some drinking if I feel like coming over. I do, and I have a case of PBR at my place, but I know I have to run out on some inescapable errand, so I go and hang out on the couch for a while, intending to come back and catch up later. Todd's place is old, wierdly familiar. (I think it reminds me some of the crazy old houses of Bisbee.)

I guess I leave on my errand, and I find myself in probably another city, either in Canada, or it could be part of London, more probably. I have an agenda to do my errand and get back and get shitfaced with the boys, but I quickly find myself turned around and lost. I start out around a movie theater, but quickly find myself moving into more of an industrial area, and that doesn't feel right. Then there's some guy, some big kind of husky guy in a grey t-shirt, he's following me, right close. He starts taunting me, giving me little "oi oi oi"s and asking me if I'm gonna get rowdy, all mocking and BS. I'm not interested in this, but he won't fuck off. I quicken my pace just a fraction to move ahead another step, then in one motion turn on my heel and haymaker right into his nose. There's a little crunch, I catch him in the front teeth and his nose. He's stunned and looks really sad, it's pathetic, and I pause and tell him, "I don't feel great about this." But he knows he was asking for it.

I keep moving, now hopelessly lost. I'll never make it back to hook up for drinks with the guys. For some reason I become aware of the old Soviet Embassy in the area, and I can't help but stop by. I'm aware that I'm out of money, and I don't want to really exchange any more, since I'll be back home momentarily, and I inventory in my head, if I even have any money in my account that I could withdraw on my card. Damn it. I go to the embassy. It's the Russian Embassy now, but there are parts that have been preserved and made into a tourist trap. I get to an elevator (start visual refs to the warehouse dream of last week or so), it's already kind of full, and with each additional person getting in, the crowd gives a little cheer. I fill in the last spot right up front, they cheer, I'm concerned that I might be really sweaty, oh well. I realize that I'm taller than everyone else by a foot. The upstairs is mainly a chotchky shop, all shot glasses and Lennin's face on plastic roundels. Blah, and I've no money anyhow. I try to go through the hall into the preserved historical area, but I'm stopped, told it's under construction. I'm powerfully annoyed after the day I've had.

longest alien attack dream ever

edamame at home and then wierd "curry" stew over rice and egg rolls from the new japanese place on harvard. early to bed.

This was a nightmare that lasted all night long; I awoke from it at least twice and ended up returning to it, until I woke up in the morning. I can't possibly remember all of it.

Aliens have attacked. We are leaving. The snow is very deep, which make everything much more difficult. We have a car that works, most people don't, and the roads are pretty jammed up. I'm with a guy who is a cross between Lane and Matt Clemans, Meg (I think), and two kids, one of whom is a little Chinese girl, the other a little blonde kid who reminds me of that kid I used to take care of that hid once and the cops got called. We drive for a while, but the roads are getting impossible to navigate. And people are becoming very violent when they see a working car (cf W of the W). We get out and walk, trudge through the snow. We all stay linked together so we don't lose the kids, the snow is almost as deep as they are tall.

We make it to the airport, our destination for some reason. I guess we think we can fly out of the area, away from the big cities, hide in the country. The approach is a very long ramp up a hillside. We make it up and into the airport, which is a dark, low, heavy cast concrete building. The door is locked and we have to convince them to let us in at all. Seems a certain amount of staff there is holed up. There are several airline check-in women, all middle aged or older, there are a couple of security people. We feel safe there, get everyone situated. There are a couple of other refugees, we all talk about what's happened, where we can all go. There is an alarm, someone shouts, "They've flown. They're attacking again." I look out a long, low window and indeed see on of the craft. It looks very much like a B/W TV era spaceship-- diamond shaped with two wing with fins off the back end, dancing in the air like it's on a string. But it's real and it starts firing at the airport, smashing the building. Someone starts making an odd, short, barking scream noise, we all dive under desks, I hustle the kids into an interior space, under a stairway. The outer walls are being blown in. It is horrifying.

Talking with another refugee about the attack, she's talking about Asia, maybe Hong Kong. Something about the aliens offering peace and then turning and killing everyone. She says something about them only offering the "green," which is some sort of food, to "Turks." But it was only trickery. We are starting to think that there is no escape to the interior, that if we even got there it would make no difference.

We leave the airport. This time we're (or is it just me from the old crew now?) travelling with a young Martha Plimpton, although at one point I look at her ID and it says her name is Falak Fis. We're going away, travelling in a sort of monorail, or maybe it's a bus. I'm thinking about us living together, I want to tell her what a crush I've always had on her, I'm thinking about whether I could have sex with her.

another travel shopping mall

#15 with no ham, no feta, sub portabellos & goat cheese, a couple nutty carmels

Beginning & probably the end lost.

On a trip, something to do with Eric. Staying at a hotel, or maybe more a hostel, tiny little room. "Rustic." (Whole dream is coated in slightly grimy, distressed old pine surfaces.) I need to find a Fun Fountain, I think as a gift, and I'm certain that I'm going to find one here. There is a sort of mall or antique/country junk place seemingly attached to my lodgings. I do locate a Fun Fountain, though it's in chrome and maroon finish.

I give it to Eric, there's some discussion, .... ?

mountain vistas, deep dark warehouses, and demon kids

left-over pizza with green chile and tomato, a little salad, a little ice cream, a fancy caramel.


Up on the crest with J-Rod, I think we’re maybe with or even directing a tour group. We’re moving about in a sprawling complex that hugs the edge of the cliffs, It is cut stone, a glowing yellow limestone, and it has the aspect of a mediterranean villa, many arches and corridors leading courtyard to courtyard. A group of people, men and women and a small boy, ask us if it’s worth while to go on, if there are any better views further down, as the wind is getting quite nasty and unpleasant. Maybe even the safety of the little boy is questioned, as some of the overlooks are open to the drop. I encourage them to continue on, assuing them that the next patio gives the truly best view of the city and it really worth it. I move on into the next patio, ready to take some of the panoramic pastiche shots I enjoy. But the view of the city still seems somewhat occluded, maybe by the setting sun in my face. I can see pretty much straight down, though, to a world of very complex apartment buildings that come straight up to the very foot of the mountain these days. (Very Vancouver inspired image.)

We go back down, by way of an apparently very express elevator, which lets us off into the lobby of a hotel. We mean to leave, to go home, but the place is so very posh that we just have to explore a little bit. The lobby is huge, seems part shopping mall, there are pools and lush planted arboreous alcoves, broa carpeted spaces, and seemingly a concierge on every corner. We act like we belong, even tell a concierge that we’re too early to check in but are just having a look around.

Later (same dream? later dream?) I’m with Maresa, maybe Jason, and Josh. We’re travelling together, probably in Canada. We go to this Museum or Science Center of some sort, it’s all very exciting, though I don’t know what to expect. We’re being herded through corridors, past seemingly incongruous exhibits, things that don’t make sense and we aren’t given time to try to make them. One contraption seems to be a late-ninteenth-century pill making machine, as big as a (special) school bus, and ornately worked in gilded cast iron. We keep moving, the crowd seems to be losing momentum now, breaking up a bit. Not certain where we’re going or what we’re expecting at this point. Another elevator, I expect a throng to press in, but it closes before they get to it. Just us and a coung couple. There’s something sinister about them, especially the girl.

We’re let out into a GIANT, cavernous space, certainly a warehouse space, but vast, and the ceiling is out of sight. It’s surplus, seemingly, from the movie business, and everything is oversized. But there’s also a cheese counter-- oversized: but you can get a block of asadero the size of a loaf of bread for $1.50, and I’m ecstatic-- and there’s an impressive liquor section. Josh mentions ouzo, and I think that there might be raki, too, then. I start searching. Ouzo, lemoncello, all manner of liqueurs and concoctions, but no raki.

I go find the gang, we look through a huge rack of surplus lengths of rope, ribbon, twine-- but in gigantic quantities, rolled loosely in celophane into units that are 20 feet high and the dimension of a CD. We’ve all had such a great time with the wierd oversize movie surplus, but it’s time to go. I do have a bottle of something that I’m going to buy and take back to the states with me.

Back in the elevator, is the couple still there?

I end up in my parents’ garage, there with a little boy, a soldier who maybe reminds me of Spooky at work, except he’s African American, and a teenage kid. We’re discussing demonology, posessions. The teenager’s girlfriend arrives, and we realize that she’s one of “them.” I won’t let her hurt anybody, she has no power over me, though I am somewhat freaked o ut at the whole situation. Once we call her out and the teenager denounces her-- “I can’t believe I ever cared about you! You’re just a thing!”-- she devolves into a creepy, cartoony rag-doll, still screaming, but helpless. She is a toy, and we can handle her like one. We drop her to the ground, and I use an imaginary shotgun to blast her. Because she’s a toy, an imaginary gun is perfectly effective. But the demon jumps from her into the soldier, he goes out on the driveway and begins to dance and jerk around, posessed. The garage door has come down, so I can see only his boots there, jigging as he calls out and mocks us. I reach under the door with my imaginary shotgun and blow him away. The demons are everywhere. I have to destroy all the toys in the area, to keep the demon from jumping again. I order the little boy to lay down his “toy,” which is really just a large plastic cup. He does so, but doesn’t want or know to get out of the way. Someone comes and moves him away. I blast the cup. But I think my terror os growing rather than abating, I don’t think we’re winning here.

ice storm love stories

"turkey" enchiladas, fruit salad, some chewy ginger cookies

Thoughout the dream, the weather is cold, slushy, snowy, icy.

Up at my parents' house, but it's a Scooby Do style mansion, rather than their actual house. We're there for a party maybe, but then it turns out that we're REALLY there for an intervention with this young lady. She's probably 19, skinny, very short blonde hair. She's having none of it, so we all retire, but it's my job to sleep with her (just in the same bed, not hanky panky). I put her in my patented sleeper hold from when I did crazy kids care. She struggles mightily for a while but then finally gives up. We go to sleep (or I do, at least). When I wake up, I think she has turned into G___________, the skinhead lad I met at Todd's store back when. MIldly erotic, but I convince myself that I'm here to help, not to get it on.

Time to go. Get on my bike, not really looking forward to riding in the slush. I make it down to the west gate, the slush is very deep. I get off my bike and wait there for Austen. SHe comes flying by and I think misses me entirely. I run out after her, get her attention when she's already over at Hoffmantown. But I forgot my bike back at the gate house. I slog back. There, I meet some other guys on bikes, and one of them swaps me my mountain bike for a wierd, tiny bike that I realize I have to recline on. I pull out onto Ventura, but then realize that the other cars can't see me. I'm trying to stay in control in the 8 inch slush. I swerve around and get over to the north side of Hoffmantown.

But I'm down on the street and Austen is up in the parking lot. The intervening driveway is much longer and higher than I remembered, and it is an ice flow. It cascades down the driveway in foot-thick rivulets. The rivulets are individually colored, a rainbow striped sea of ice. (cf. the cast pyrex sculpture at the UNMAM) I try to climb up, maybe I even have some sort of hammer I try to employ to grip the ice. But I get nowhere and Austen is mocking me.