Thursday, November 20, 2014

I dreamed that I lived in a castle-like hotel, made of wrought iron and large, heavy stones. There lived at least two sets of strange beings inside this hotel. The Piemen were these anthropomorphic pies that had exceedingly well-groomed mustaches and pranced about bearing large trays, feeding the hotel's guests. On the other side were the Thieves, who were like garden gnomes clad in heavy armor who would steal food from atop the Piemen's trays. They had an arrangement whereby they then split the food with the Piemen, who were abetting their thievery.

Things went south when the hotel lost business. Less guests meant less food, less food meant conflict between the Piemen and the Thieves. I was among the latter, and at one point the Piemen declared all-out war, pinning three of us in the attic of the hotel. They then set fire to the upper floors. Us Thieves, not wanting to die, flung ourselves out the window and proceeded to slide down roofs and gutters, desperately trying to escape.

Thursday, September 04, 2014

I dreamed my brother and I had been enslaved and were working in a dingy office behind filthy glass somewhere in an old decrepit building in Jersey City. The slavemasters were a large, talking lizard and its lackey, a giant who constantly wore football gear. We'd been there for years, slaving away, doing mundane office tasks. There was never an opportunity to break free. My wife and family must miss me, I thought. Then one day the football guy left, and, by chance, I tripped the lizard and rammed its head against two pegs that were protruding from a nearby desk. Black blood rolled down its sad face as its eyes rolled, expressionless, in their sockets. I felt victorious at that moment--freedom was within our grasp. With its dying breaths, the lizard told my brother and I just why we'd been enslaved and what the meaning of our work was, but I can't remember a thing about it.

Friday, August 15, 2014

A couple miserable dreams last night:

- I dreamed I went to Rome, a surprise trip, to visit my relatives. Took the whole family. I was sneaking up on my Italian relatives, who worked at a kind of deli counter in an old stone building. Twas then I realized I had somehow managed the trip across without my passport, and that there was no way for me to get back home. Not good.

- I dreamed the entire office stayed over the one boss's house, like a work slumber party. He had some random client over, as well, some dude from England. We all filed in for breakfast, and the English guy was clearly hungover. Then out of nowhere appears my former colleague Josh and his fiancee, and they're regaling this pained English guy with stories of how, when they went to England with me, I was a drunken mess, vomiting in the streets.

Then me and my coworker Derek leave the breakfast party, and it turns out we're in downtown Baghdad--again the theme of trying to flee a country. Derek and I wander past some weird bondage-like store, which is right next to a Krauzer's-like convenience store. The rest of our party is maybe 20 feet behind us. We pass through the convenience store, which, wouldn't you know it, is manned by cops.

"Hello ladies," one of them says. We both ignore the dude, but his partner keeps going.

"What are you girls up to tonight?" the other one says, at which point I give him the universal signal for I'm gonna cut your throat. Then I say, "I wish this was America, bro. I would kick your ass."

The guy just stares me down as I exit the other side of the convenience store.

I'm standing there outside the storefront waiting for everybody when two more cops come up to me, along with a pasty white-looking guy.

"No smoking," says one cop. I'm not smoking. I don't say anything, but I get what's going on--they're trying to pin some minor infraction on me, throw me in jail, prevent me from going home. It's a trap, and I fell into it. I felt absolutely helpless. I wanted to kick these fuckers in the nuts.

"He's not listening," says the other one, fondling a baton.

Then the white pasty guy, who I'm guessing is like my court-appointed lawyer, so as to give the pretense of legitimacy, rubs the side of his face. "You don't have to answer them," he advises me, like he's some old friend doing me a favor.

I kick both of the cops in the nuts and slug the lawyer. By then the whole Baghdad police force is coming after me.

I wake up.