FROM THE VAULT dream (Oct 15 2004...ironically I was trying to go a week sans vices then as well...incorrigible indeed).....

Collective vices: Who cares. I just had a dream where I was in love.

In the three hours allocated for sleep between third shift and school, I dreamed of my angel, my lover, my universal dual.

She was with me. We were in a writers workshop full of hot lesbians who availed their tops. She was next to me. She made me so happy. Our waists were buttoned at the hip. We wrestled, we flirted, we held each other. We were one.

There was a swimming pool. People were moving furniture. Uncle Mike was orchestrating the movers where to put things marshalling his thin fingers in the direction of the Indian Sun. Both antique furniture and posh loveseats milled around the dream like bees agitated in an apiary.

Human beings kept cannon balling in the chlorine blue pool. They took off their clothes and they jumped into the neon blue pond reflected throughout the house of mirrors of my eternal consiousness.

But I held my angel. We sat at the lip of the pool. We left our clothes on. We occasionally splashed each other. we felt like one.

We were at peace.

The only person I recognized in the dream (besides Uncle Mike) was myself. I was five. I had cinamon bangs neatly clipped across my forehead. My five year old self was in the pool. My five finger year old self was wearing one of my dad's undershirts. The shirt was dampened considerably from my frolicking. I could see the little stubs of my five year old nipples.

I was looking at myself back at myself from two decades ago. I was with the girl of my dreams.
My dream angel. The scattered jigsawed fragment that fit perfectly into everything I lived for.

As in reality, strangers were everywhere. They not only knew me, but they knew her. They knew us. They knew how much she had meant to me. I had no clue who they were, but they kept addressing us as she smiled. she was flattered. I enjoyed watching her smile.

We got separeted in the end of the dream. I went back to Uncle Mike's house. The house was fraught with women I had never seen. They knew me. Apparently they were having either a bridal or child shower for my dream angel.

Only she wasn't there. I had to find her.

I left the house only in my socks. I ran down hill, over hard chunks of gravel, trying to find my dream angel. Even though I was running down hill, I could feel the hard gravel leave flecks in my feet.




I was running down hill (ligonier hill sloping down into the south side of Peoria) and all these black boys were running up. Some were African tribesman with shiny chests and azure eyes and javelins. Some were athletes. They all had shiny black skin and I jostled their shoudlers as we past.

They didn't obstruct me. We were headed different in directions.

*

My alarm clock harshly shrilled into conciousness. That's the end of the dream. I was at Peace.

Before the dream convened however, just when I was closing my eyes, just as my mind was leaving the corporeal port, drifting into the blanket of sleep, I saw a shadow of my dream angel. I saw a silhouette. I saw her vividly. I saw her even more vividly in the shadow than I saw her in the dream (in the dream I saw her, but I mainly felt her)...

In this shadow, she was kissing the person she was with in real life. Kissing him on the side of the cheek. They seemed happy. She then kissed him again. Then her shadow left him sedated; breezed in my direction.

Then she took me to that place where I was happy. Our secret place, where we together, so happy, our limbs dangling and free....

Peacock dream for baby chop-chop (dreamt 11-28-10/afternoon)

The dream nocturnally convened we were walking around your neighborhood (Wheatfield) with a group of people and I was groping the ivory tips of your fingers into a gentle squeeze and you were smiling and we were both acting kinda goofy much to the chagrin of our nearby peers who seemed to kind of scowl at our fluttering follies. It was the neighborhood where you live right now but for some reason your family owned the majority of the houses (you owned my uncles house). I felt very serene and peaceful with you buckled in the grasp of my palms and we continued to walk around the manor in which you lived and you pointed out property your parents owned (there was also an abandoned swimming pool they owned).

We then entered yer house (the actual house you are living in, the one in the dream you sent me) and you told me that one of your sisters was very sick and you wanted me to meet her. We went up to the second floor of your house and it was exactly like you described it to me in your dream. I then heard this giant shrieking sound, seriously, it sounded like a bald eagle was being sodomized with a Molly Pitcher tampon, and you pointed in the opposite direction s of the bedroom, towards the back of the house and there was this labyrinth. You began to hold my hand even tighter as we skirted into the maze and you told me that your sister was “through here,” as we walked the shrieking began to escalate even louder even though you seemed to audibly be inured to it. The screeching got so insufferable and high pitched that I let go off your sheet music colored hands and clasped my palms over my ears and said something like, “What the phuck is that sound?” You just looked at me and said very nonchalantly and replied with a blithe smile, “Don’t worry. It’s just the family peacock. It won’t hurt you .”(Only you chop-chop).
We continued to walk towards the back of the maze past the good’ ol chop-cholland-heirloom family pet peacock and the bird continued to screech even louder and when I ambled past it (it was out of my peripheral vision but I felt it as it flapped over the top of my scalp) it emitted one final shrill and then bit a chunk out of the back of my head.
We then got into this really petty argument. I was like:
“Shit chop-chop, yer phucking familial peacock bit me and now I’m gonna get Pertusis.”
You then started laughing almost hysterically and said something like, “You can’t get pertusis from a peacock, silly.”
And I became even more irate (which isn’t really me) and I was like, “ I’m gonna get pertusis and I’m gonna get all my residents’ sick and lose my job.”
And you smiled and laughed and then got very hush-hush serious and tried to assuage my panic and spoke in a very endearing and gentle almost maternal monotone and said, “David, I’m a nurse. If you had pertusis I would tell you.”
You then began walking forward into the maze to see your sister but I said something like, “shit, I’m outta here” and ran outside yer house groping the top of my head. When I arrived outside it was sunny and time for your sisters wedding and there was this southern looking Gazebo (still in bumphuck wheatfield) where your sister was going to get married inside of and you were wearing this really (I think kinda yellowish (gold), spring flavored and smittenly stunning nonetheless) dress and you smoothed down the front of your dress and kissed the angular side of my cheek and said, “I need to meet with the wedding party so sit here and I’ll be back in a minute.” The table where I was seated was outdoors and there was all these hot girls wildly texting each other (Girls who, in the immortal patois of Holden Caulfield, ‘Look like they would be bitches if you got to know them.’) and I got bored and started cracking petty jokes, ie, I pointed at the Gazebo and started making connotations to Southern Comfort and said something like, It looks like the cover to William Faulkner’s Light in August) only none of the stuck-up bitches laughed or even acknowledged me b/c they were too monopolized tapping morose code like cryptograms into the cyclopic tint of their cell phones and then I took my cell phone out and purposefully dropped it in front of one of the girls so when I reached down to pick it up I could voyeuristically sneak and peek up her dress (even in my dreams I’m nothing short of incorrigible) and when I was lifting my head back up my dear friend Phoebe the hot lesbian was seated next to me and she was dressed to kill and her lips looked like she just spent the last half-hour making out with a maraschino cherry and she gave me a hug and asked me who I was here with and after I said your name she looked back at me in this quizzical fashion and said, “Chop-chop? I thought you guys were like exclusive?”
I then woke up to the bleeping herald of yer text arriving telling me that your step father has just said the word chop-chop (He must’ve been talking about going outside and cutting down some firewood after going hunting with your sister) and that you started laughing.