Tag: Dreams

I get a new camera as a holiday gift and go on a quest to take a great photo. I bring a piece of art and have at least 3 siblings follow me on the shoot. We are in a very poor area where we keep walking up a dirt road. I lay the art down on the ground and attempt to take a photo. I am never satisfied with the frame in the camera. After walking by encampments, shacks, and piles of debris, my memory goes vague. Suddenly, two siblings are shot and killed from shotgun blasts. I black out.

I wake up in a dark room with 1 or 2 younger siblings. We are taped or tied to chairs. I do not know who has captured us. I eventually meet our new master, a famous author with a huge ego (I name him William Gibson). As he systematically breaks us down, he convinces us that he is our savior and wants to be our father. He lives in a bunker of a building and is crazy enough to probably kill us without question.

In one scene he gets into an argument with another man. He threatens to stick a machete in the man’s head, and the man picks up a box of sharp items to protect himself. He pins the writer’s arm to the wall with a huge staple. I watch this and then run to my back room and wake up my little sibling.

He spends most of his time in shock, sleeping, so I try to put some clothes on him and tell him this is our chance to escape. But the writer has freed himself from the staple. He’s very disappointed that we thought we could leave.

After years of being confined, the writer’s ego and assumptions cause him to become weak. He thinks that we are OK with being his imprisoned “children”. He is performing in a middle eastern music and dance concert and I accompany him.

A large group of friends and relatives are at the concert. I find a joint and smoke it while I talk to a female relative of the writer. I have told myself that this is my chance to free myself and my little brother. So I begin to directly and openly talk about being held captive.

The woman doesn’t really get it. She is in awe of the writer’s success and talent. In a larger circle of people, I boldly confront the writer. He accuses me of being addicted to pot and says he’s kept me for my own good. I disagree and tell him that he hasn’t even let me call my mother in 3 years. I begin to cry and babble that I want to talk to my mother and tell her I love her.

The writer become furious. Some of his friends are obviously becoming concerned about the situation. The writer continues to try to frame me as a junky. He grabs a green compost bin and runs towards me. He dumps it out on the floor in front of me and yells “Do you want to swim in the sutures again like you used to!!!??”

Three years of being held against my will brings me to my own rage. I stand up in the circle, feeling bold and brave, and yell “I don’t know what you’re talking about!!”

I wake up….

In a not-too-distant future, Mark and I are slated for execution. In this murky dream world, a techno-totalitarian government rules, so we are not quite sure why we have been taken under custody and slated for death. It could possibly be because we have opted to not embrace the technology of the times.

While locked up, we get a final visit with loved ones. I get a bag of money from my mother, and am not sure what I can do with that in my final days of living. Mark gets drawing supplies. Being presented as enemies of the state, our underground popularity soars. Some of our guards are sympathetic. At one point, we are left unguarded near a community convergence center. All the beautiful people there recognize us and so Mark and I try to figure out a way to escape. Our attempt is short lived, but we are not punished.We end up back in custody with guards who treat us kindly.

The government may not know what to do with us. Right before our execution date, Mark and I have a tearful farewell. We hug and cry and say we love each other. He is traumatized by the looming public death. I see it as my end and beginning, telling Mark “maybe we’ll come back as humans again.” But the deadline passes and the government keeps us alive.

My money proves to be invaluable. Inside the bills are smaller $2 bills, which must be a rare treat for this world. The wrappers turn out to be gift cards for many businesses. Mark and I are separated, so I begin to pass out the favors and gain enough grease to reunite with Mark again. He too has become a poplar artist under demand and so has gained traction as well.

We begin to plot our escape in earnest, especially now that we are celebrated outlaws in these dark, heavy times. The will of the people is on our side and we can only hope that there is a path out of this odd stasis we are in.

A group of volunteers show up to the community space where I work. Their main project is to tear up an area of grass that is covering the road between the community space and an old, Victorian house. I wonder where DX is, and why he isn’t with these guys who obviously look like his co-workers. They have that rough and ready-to-party, punk DPW appearance. I look around for an iPod to play some music and realize it is out by the area where they are stripping out the grass.

At some point, AG and DH show up. AG has a flying machine made out of a few pieces of wood. He takes us for a spin. I balance in the middle and DH holds on to a vertical piece. When we get back, the grassy area is clean. The Victorian now sits in the middle of the road! I ask one of the gruff guys why they got rid of the park area and they say that it had too many bugs.

With the work done, the volunteers party. The band Chumbawamba shows up, sets up, and starts playing. They go into their infamous hit “Tubthumping” and a female member of the band gets out a propane torch and goes out to light a pile of debris in the parking lot. She also goes to the Victorian and tries to light that on fire. She fails and then hands the torch over for me to make an attempt. I try and nothing alights.

Walking inside the building, I begin to wonder who lives there. I do not recall anyone that does. I am thinking about how to get the title to this building when a woman in a badge and uniform walks in. She’s here to look at the property and ask about the opening of the street. I hide the torch and then see a SF Sheriffs patrol car speed into the community center’s parking lot. Relieved that the building isn’t burning, I walk through the space with the officer.

You find out about a man-made island and show me where it is on a local map. We bike to a ferry and then take the boat the the island. Our bikes end up tied together in the water. As we sit on the small decked “island,” we watch the bikes barely float on the surface. We talk about fishing and look at the large gold fish shimmering deep in the waters around us.

At a sea town JY is cleaning out his van. I have storage in there and become upset about my things. I go to another truck where I have things stored and it is open with the key in the lock. DJ is using this to store sound equipment. I get really upset but become distracted by seeing young men walking around with Clemson Tigers clothing. My lover then appears and I try to tell her about my storage. But I get distracted again by wanting to “scratch a record” on her body. She’s not into it and leaves. I walk by a station wagon that SB is sleeping in (on a bed of dried grass) and he tells me about his horrible night last night. I remember that I need to complain to DJ about my storage and walk by JY’s van to see it washed and empty! Then I realize that I’ve been walking around this whole time in underwear (at least they kind of look like swim trunks). Walking back to my place to change, I see more Clemson kids. “Excuse me, but why are you all wearing Clemson colors?” “We’re a church group, from PC.” “Ah – Presbyterian College in South Carolina.” “Yeah. Say, you don’t know where we can get good beer? All the places around here serve the same three kinds.” “Try North Beach,” I tell him.

I meet a blonde-haired woman. We walk to the edge of the Pacific and begin to swim. As we swim, a large grey whale joins us. We swim all the way to Borneo, where I walk ashore and get lost in a village. I realize that I do not have my passport since I swam over with a woman and a whale. I run into all of my college friends. They have rented out a bungalow and are partying. I party with them amazed at the conincadence of seeing them in Borneo.