dream log: morning journeys
Had a very lucid-feeling dream in which I was able to speak to my recently deceased father. The reason I claim lucidty is because I physically felt the struggle to stay asleep upon realizing that I was dreaming. It was near a pool. I only spoke with him briefly. Told him it was pretty lame that this was the only way we could talk, etc. It was a natural conversation, and I wouldn’t share the details even if I remembered every last one.
Later…
I and a lot of people I knew in context of this tale were all seated in what I can only refer to as Rollercoaster bumpercars made from dully-painted trash barrels. There was a person who was a lot like Joan Cusack’s character from School of Rock. i.e. a nervous, irritable school administrator. Each rider had some kind of animal, she had some kind of weasel-thing in her purse, most people had cats. She was going to throw up in said purse but that would have let out the critter. I got her a bucket with a cover and she threw up a lot of white stuff, and some sprinkles. Birthday cake I guess.
There was an area with kittens. Grey kittens, stripped kittens, and one particularly amazing kitten who had a pattern that looked like a idodine-stained slides of cells or eggs of sea creatures.
I was walking with two friends near this waterway and I saw what looked to be the start of waterspouts, only frozen in time. Gingerly one of us reached out, trying not to get soaked, and grabbed and pulled on one of thse bizzare shapes. Turns out it was an odd-shaped container, holding a tropical fish. At that moment I realized that the whole waterway was full of tropical fish, even though I knew the water was rather cold. I said that the things in the water must be there so the new fish could slowly be naturalized. (Sort of like leaving your new goldfish in his bag in the tank so he can adjust to the new water.)
This neon pink, mostly flat sea slug type creature flew through the air and I bumped it, or otherwise aggravated it, and it came at me, only to curl partway about my neck and then go. I thought for sure I was desparately poisoned from it, and trudged onward in a grey panic over what to do about this beast’s poisonous touch working its way through my blood.
There was a house with an older, grumpy asian man in it. There were two options for tea. I chose to take down the actual tea pot and try to make tea, but there were still a ton of remnants from the previously made tea in there. Tea leaves predominantly, but I also pulled out soggy, blue berries of a blackberry or mulberry shape, and bamboo tools of various sorts. The tea basket, tons, little scrapers and spoons and so forth. Why they were all in this teapot I don’t know. Needless to say cleaning it out was gross. Why I bothered with it, I don’t know, because I don’t recall making any tea.
There’s more but the details are fuzzy now. I waited too long and to write it all out and now it would make even less sense than normal. There was substance abuse. there was a long flight of stairs. There was a couple in trouble. There was some bizzare sexual tryst that ended with 3 people suddenly rising from a vat of what looked like sand and oatmeal.
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