Saturday 6-16-18 / ……… / Sunday 6-17-18
A baseball score
Cleveland 32 & Minnesota 14
should be enough strangeness
to do a dream check
for me to realize
hey this has to be a dream
for me to realize
I can make other revisions
to take specific actions
to glide through walls or alter the score some more.
Friday 6-15-18 / ……… / Saturday 6-16-18
Two parts to this dream. First off, the fact that I was in my grandmother’s old house, and we (my family) were packing things away and throwing out unneeded items that did not spark nostalgia or past memories. There was this basket that opened up to two compartments. I felt as if it wasn’t even a bother to look in because of how chipped and worn out the outside was. My mom scolded me and told me that this basket was crafted by my great-grandfather and that this actual item was made particularly for me along with all the items within. Inside, from what I recall, were miniatures of items like a brush, some other trinkets like marbles and other wood-hewn items. My mom also mentioned that these items would have passed the time for any youth; my great-grandfather obviously had no idea about the internet or other electronics that we have now.
Part two involved another house that I wasn’t aware of. It was a place where I was house-sitting or it was crafted to emulate a new house of mine. However, before I went to bed, I forgot to lock windows and close the door, and perhaps shut one of the windows in a certain room. Because of this, the place was upended overnight. The reason: a poltergeist found its way into the room and decided to throw things against the wall and fling papers and lighter objects willy-nilly. Since I was the one who did not bar the creature from entering the room the previous night, I had to go in and clean everything and make sure that the poltergeist was out of there. Going into the room, I didn’t notice any weird spirit or creature that wasn’t human. I sorted things out with one eye peeled, waiting for anything odd to surface. I looked at one of the windows and see that snow was falling quite heavily onto the trees planted near the window. I stood up quickly and stared at the winter scene, and my mind jumped to the fact that it’s actually mid-June, not mid-January.
And that’s when I woke up: poltergeist room a distant memory!
Tuesday 6-12-18 / ……… / Wednesday 6-13-18
Flitted in and out of a lot of different locations last night. The most memorable was a room, similar to a gift shop, but bigger. The aisles were cramped, most of them nonexistent. The only way to go down the aisles would be to push them aside to make it passable; the problem was that there might have been other people in the aisles. And that was indeed the case. The oddest aspect of this gift shop was that everything was ghosted or painted all-white, so I could not tell what objects were actually here for sale. It was reminiscent to the bookstore that had their books wiped clean in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
I heard a song in the gift shop where the singer sounded familiar to me. It was John Cooper, the lead member of the band Skillet, and he was crooning a song that sounded more like a pop ballad than anything else. I walked out of the place and found myself in an auditorium, where some event was going to take place. Apparently, after wandering about, I found out that this was to be a Bible study of some kind; in front was a screen where there was some type of TV program or something similar playing. Acting in this program was none other than John Cooper and his wife, Korey (also a Skillet member).
I turned to Mary, who was a part of this dream at this moment, and began to wax existential: basically sighing about how time was going by too far. Look at them: they were playing in a band 15+ years ago and they looked as if they were 30! But it was 2018!
Then I returned to a seat I had taken when I was briefly watching the TV show. This woman informed me that I could not sit there, that this was her seat. I told that I already had been sitting here; she got a bit aggravated at my insistence. She stormed off. Mary followed her to put her in her place, and I sat there waiting for the Bible study to begin, Bible in hand.
That was when the power went out and screams littered the room. I looked around to locate where Mary had gone only to find myself back in the gift shop, all aisles and ghosted objects gone. It was almost like an empty gymnasium or auditorium now. At the end of this room was a door. I ran there and opened it. I found myself in an elevator going up, Mary the only other person with me now. We kept going up. We held hands and exited the elevator. And that’s all I remember.
Monday 6-11-18 / ……… / Tuesday 6-12-18
The main element that is fresh in my mind is the fact that I only communicated through writing my messages on giant pieces of cardboard with a Sharpie. I would write without paying attention to what I wrote; the last message I could remember was “This is a dream.”
So of course I woke up at that very moment.
Tuesday 6-5-18 / ……… / Wednesday 6-6-18
Mary and I walking around my parents’ house and property. Greg and Katie (old Istanbul friends) in car wanting to turn around. They say hey. We are stretching and walking around the paths, all freshly paved (to my delight). We get to the corner of the property where a ivy-framed door leads to more paths akin to the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. Other people with dogs are wandering around. One dog nips at me, but I do not react strongly. In the distance, I see the car Greg and Katie were in make an attempt to turn around on one of the pedestrian paths and fail miserably. I tell them they can go through the door.
We go through the door.
The dream changes and I have my sister’s dog (R.I.P.) at my old church. We’re waiting so we can drop him off. Another dude with a dog comes in and yaps at Harley (my sister’s dog). The dude is laissez-faire about the whole situation, and this time I’m irritated at the dog’s actions. No one else seems to mind he’s there. He reminds me of a vagrant; I just have a bad feeling about him. He reminds me of Tommy Wiseau of The Room fame. But he doesn’t talk at all.
There seems to be a reception in the basement of the church and I try my best to hide from the Tommy doppelgänger. As I go further into the basement, the decorations grow and I realize it’s Christmas and I realize that this isn’t my everyday reality.
And I wake up.
Monday 6-4-18 / ……… / Tuesday 6-5-18
I’m racing after students from last semester who graduated, and I’m wishing them all Godspeed before they reach one of the three elevators in the distance — all headed to the topmost floor.
I catch one of the elevators and race to the top. The floor is expansive with a whiteboard and a projector standing at one end of a bright auditorium. I reach that space and begin to lecture, like I typically would for any class. It’s the first day and I’m outlining the class’s policies — to only one student who was in attendance.
One aspect of the presentation that I recall is a collection of videoclips that align with the syllabus. One of these videos was of Stephen Colbert hunched over and eating BBQ (as a publicity stunt for KFC), quipping that it’s “finger lickin’ good, all right!” in his best Comedy Central Colbert persona.
And that’s when I awaken. Unendurably hungry.
As the title states, this blog will head down a new path. Though, I’ve left a few blog posts up from the past, my aim now in this space is to write about my dreams from the notes I take upon waking up from them. Hopefully the notes I jot down bedside can kickstart the cogs in my head and I can more fully recall any of the dream(s) I had had the previous night.
I hope this can allow me not only to mold together a much fuller dream world but also to form a much more cohesive collection of poetry that aligns with my dream state and my dreamscapes.
Happy reading, and dreaming, y’all!
One of the better feelings a person can have is this: when s/he sits down and — almost instantaneously — has an idea for a creative project that, for some reason, s/he never considered already.
This happened to me earlier today. I don’t know if it will amount to much in the end. However, in 2012, I’d had the idea of compiling the poems and the prose work I had written over the four years I had journaled into a collective work that might be publishable in the near future.
That project will indeed get published in the near future! (Here’s the web space.) So — with this new idea, why couldn’t that idea eventually travel into the realms of the publishing world? The ideas are just ideas, of course, for now. There are more elements that become involved in such an enterprise; still, I feel good about this idea. Whenever an idea blossoms, foment such ideas. Who knows what will become of them?
but the colors that run
down the mirror
are not two of those three.
What I see are rivers
still the same bloody substance
as if I’d stabbed the mirror.
I really don’t want to wait
to see when
the curtain falls
soaking everything in black.
Snicker some more about how
we shall never have to worry
about freedom of the press in the US
about rights being taken away from us.
Just see Turkey:
whenever something offensive
banning followed not long after
Whenever a reporter shared
uncomfortable slices of news
that few people knew
arrests and silencing appeared instantly.
Notice the number of people
government officials who bemoan
the evil left spouting lies!
they must be silenced, shouted down!
Don’t trust them, ever, never
they can’t come to certain places
and record what’s happening,
what we say in the public sphere!
Why worry — what’s happened
and is happening in Turkey
can never ever