holy/hell

.....(long excessive dream introduction)
i am with a friend from elementary school, Stephen. He is pale and red haired. I associate him with ron from harry potter. We are in an old irish or english home. After doing some weird dream shit with floating candles, we are sitting at the base of an old wooden, creakedy staircase. at the top of the stairs the door opens to a kitchen where an overweight women is working.

"you know you are great. you are destined for greatness, there's no avoiding it. why don't your let people know? why won't you let yourself be." he says. i am sitting with my back to the top of the stairs. as he is explaining and asking i get tense and nervous. i start to cry. i do a paranoid back check, looking behind me up the stairs and into the kitchen. "because what i'm destined to be great at, people will want to hurt me for."
he looks at me with revelation in his eyes. "that's right. he had said tha..." a woodcarving tool comes shooting through the open door at the top of the stairs, hitting him dead center in the forehead. i leap to block it, but am too late. blood blends red with his hair and trickles over his blue eyes. i quickly 'bless' the other two people we are with and feel awful for not doing this sooner.

i wake myself up to avoid conflict. once awake, i consider going back to sleep and starting the dream just before the blade was thrown and to stop it so i could hear what he was going to say. I decide not to. no sense in putting yourself in a hostile situation. I am sick of bloody dreams.


(((((((earlier dream)))))))))
looking to sex an attractive white male who is down to sex me (no use on wasting my *mental energy* on someone who's going to be difficult). mark with green light. encounter too young of a someone. new criteria - 21+ - marked by blue light.

i find some dude, he is crossing the street with three girls. he is wearing a camel colored jacket. i whisper in his ear. he smiles and tells the girls he'll catch up with them in five minutes. oh great! that's not time at all. i get us in cab.
we share a cab with some strangers. end up in a hotel
i find a way to get a room for free
room 32.
we're going to the room. people from the cab are coming down the hall. my sex toy boy is starting to deflate. i try to hold him up straight as they pass so they won't be suspicious of us. soon he deflates all the way. i am holding a limp suit wearing skin out in front of me by the shoulders with the thumb and middle finger of each hand. i decide it'd be best for me to drape it over my arm. if anyone asks i'll say it's his dry cleaning.


SEX IN DREAMS
Sex is a fickle little battle in dreams. the dream very quickly becomes what it's not about, by which i mean the subject i want it to be about (which most often times is sex.). this is quite unfortunate. When this happens, i am forced to wake up, go back to sleep and try again. When i do finally find a willing young man (sometimes there are no people in the dream and i am super horny...that or there are people, just no one sex worth) and we get busy, things may or may not go as i had planned. i regularly wake myself up by spending too much mental energy trying to improve the situation (upgrading his assets, changing the scenery). When it's great, something else in the real world wakes me up. That or it's just plain great. This is the ideal.

great surrealist tricks!

i am a great magician. really i'm just me.
my classmates are filming a movie.
they are covered in colorful, cheep silks.

i'm on the side watching. i make flowers shoot out of my hands to pass the time. it stings like stigmata. the wound in my hand grows and grows.

leigha asks me if i can make ants come out of my hand. i make gumdrops and 'a wee cone of cotton candy.' they appear out of thin air between my cupped hands. i hand each to her, then make ants come out from the center of my palm. great surrealist tricks!

a lot more happens in this dream, but its not so interesting to write. bad psychics and worse friends. my hands throb.

i may or may not throw up.

real life: i turn on music and lay down for a 10 minute nap. while i'm asleep the song "bye bye butterfly" by pauline oliveros comes on.

(this song:
(only seven minutes long)

in my dream. i am in a chalky white auditorium. we are sitting on a podium listening to sound pieces. alex is behind me. my performance professor is to my right. the song is piercing, haunting. i tilt the podium forward and we all fall, synchronized, like this was planned or expected, our hands catch us in front of our chests. i rise back up. everyone follows my lead. the lights are dim and we begin to dance. the song progresses slowly, or movements follow. lauren is to my right.

i am literally weightless on my feet. i hover. levitate above the ground. i cannot feel the ground when my feet touch it but it's there, shining chalky white. our reflections are vague in the window. we are wearing black cat suits. lauren begins to levitate as well. we all do, higher and higher. a few girls touch the ceiling with their heads. when they do the room is flooded with bright warm light. our energy is booming. our focus unparalleled. i float to touch the cieling with my head. i can't get quite high enough. i push off the floor, which i can't feel below my feet and finally make it. the dance crescendos and on lookers are pleased. there is a great finale.

we are finished and breathless. the room again dark. in the front row we are laying on our bellies. i look behind me to two kneeling girls talking behind me. there is something that resembles nailpolish on my back. i identify it as drying blood, but have no idea where it came from. the girls are as confused as me. where did this come from. i thought, maybe i cut myself. i see blood streaks on the arm of another girl. we were really into it. i see random drips of blood on the floor. this is not our blood. there is too much. the drips increase to converge at puddle where the floor meets the wall. i follow it up. on a metal wall fixture a lifeless body is draped. dressed in a black catsuit like me. dressed in a black catsuit like everyone else with her body draped dead and wet and bleeding. her head dangling. the song pierces haunting operasings and my heart stops working. the lights are still off and no one sees.


what monsters am i with? how could i have led this dance
i turn away horrified (which is not the correct word).
the lights turn on and i hear the horrible screams of revelation with my eyes shut.

i am awake and i am crying and i may or may not throw up.

everything in this store comes from the family

ghosts paint themselves to avenge love unrequited

metal shop, glowing lockers, wood and steel. trace the tracks.

i sleep on the sidewalk of thompson square, though i know what has happened here, i am not scared. it is a different time.

you are the sugar and i am the spoon. you mumble in your sleep, i clog your inbox with exhalations of the fall. i am the sugar and you are the spoon. you mumble in your sleep. "I could get ice cream and wouldn't even have to have ice cream because i would be there with you" you said. "lauren?" i asked. "yes" and the sugar falls from the spoon.

a cross in a gallery glows. an aura pulses at the word hope. the artists name it the second coming cross. the cynics say nothing.

you said i was in your nightmare with saint maria and the church. i am really very sorry, because i know how this can be...and i know what it may seem. and i hope at least i helped you.

sol said she threw away 21 gallons of latex paint over mold discontentment.


i wake up dry heaving.

and i feel better off

monks in red robes come out the wooden door. they throw yellow butterflies into the air. several stay on my eyelashes and in my hair.

you come back smiling and cut a square out of one of their wings. i cry. a monk consoles me and says,'but that's what men do.'

the monks continue on in a line. there are yellow butterflies everywhere.

and i start this dream with a bj....(i'm sad i said i loved you, but i don't regret it.)

we are filling up a bath and getting sexy. we stop for a while for me to take my clothes off you say something along the lines of 'it's going to be overwhelming.' sitting back in a blue button-up shirt i say, 'it's okay, i can handle it' and roll over onto my belly. i look back at you and say 'because you know i'm in love with you right?'
you don't respond.
i didn't expect you to, that's not why i said it.
you leave because you remembered something.

i'm sitting in the quarter-filled bath. she comes in and says she needs to take a shower now; sorry, get out: she has a baby shower to go to.. he is going to the same one. 'he's going to come back and he is not going to fuck you' she implies. she says something about having sex in the tub. i said we didn't have sex in the tub. she says i should get him to bring me to the baby shower. i say nah, that i would if he wanted me to, that it would be weird to ask. that i have plenty of things i should be doing. a baby shower is a pretty awkward thing to go to. we're not even dating.

we are standing in the hallway talking. she says 'of course a man would never miss you. men don't miss anything' i say, 'i don't know, i hope that's not true. i mean i've really missed him.' (i don't say who him is.) (i mean i hope he misses me too.)

i ask her what you are doing. she says you're looking for something. i ask her if she wants to see a trick. she says sure. i tell her to name something in this house she wants. she says cigarettes. i try to get the cigarettes. obviously there were none in the house. so i say, "okay i'll try my purse." i attract my purse. you come back upstairs. my purse slams into the door and gets stuck. i tell you if you ever can't find anything, that i can do this trick and then you don't have to look. you don't seem disinterested. i just can't read you.

we leave. i attract everything in the house that is mine. i realize i wasn't wearing shoes. all i have are muddy flipflops. you want me to go to the baby shower or maybe you feel obligated to invite me. i look like a sexed wreck and all i have are muddy flip-flops. i'm sad i said i loved you, but i don't regret it.