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11:14:2004 Entry: "Ann : Curmudgeon DREAM"

Curmudgeon DREAM

Stan and I were someplace where, I don't know, but the door seemed sort of like the front door at Grant Street. We had the dogs on leashes, but Plato squeezed his head through his leash and I dropped Lucifer Sam's leash. I'm trying to pick up Lucifer Sam's leash and I tell Stan to go get Plato. We open the door and there's a man there (I don't know who he was, tall, generic, midwestern, not too bright) and he said that Plato licked his face. There was also another part of the dream where we were walking around an art building. There were large paintings by some woman who seemed very derivative of my works in the late 80s, sort of hybridized with my metallic works of the 90s, except very sloppily done and not much textural working of the canvas. Very quickly done and haphazzard. I couldn't believe they were getting displayed like that. Then we're walking around this building and we're outside, but it seems like it's outside in the backyard in my grandmother's house (which is virtually a non-existant backyard it's so small). There's a woman there that we knew in grad school, I shall call "Melody". "Melody" was working on building some sort of studio outside. She was babbling on and on and on and I couldn't get a word in. She said something about taking us to the humane society and showing us the pitbulls there. Whatever. Then we go back in the building and it's like a cafeteria combined with art studios. There's music playing over the loudspeakers, sort of uninteresting bland non-offensive background music. There's some people setting up a speaker system in the studios with one of those little portable record players like the kind kids had in the 1960s. Then they turn it on real loud. It's playing some sort of modern rock (as opposed to classic rock)...nothing I recognize. It's real loud and I'm pissed because they don't turn the background music off first before turning this on, so there's two competing musics going on at once (sort of like being in Best Buy Hell). I get up on a table and I start yelling at people to fix the problem. No one pays any attention to me, so I throw a spoon at one guy who was sleeping. He looks startled with a "why'd you throw that at me?" look. I start throwing more utensils and hitting people, but I can't seem to awken these potatoheads out of their catatonic media daze. Finally, I yell, literally, I yell out at the top of my lungs in my sleep, "Turn that goddamn thing down!" and I wake up Stan and myself.

"Do you know what you just said?" Stan asked me.

Yes, I did. I didn't mean to wake him (or possibly even our neighbors, if they weren't up already as it was after 6 am). Had I known it was just a dream, I wouldn't have yelled. But when you're having a dream, unless you're a lucid dreamer, you don't realize you're dreaming, and you think it's real life.

This reminded me of a couple of years ago when we travelled out east. We were staying in a motel in Batavia, New York run by an Indian family. I was having some nightmare with my mom and I yelled "just go ahead and kill me, I don't care anymore". I said this in my sleep, out loud. I woke myself and Stan up. Immediately, Stan says, "Oh great, do you know what you just said? I hope they (meaning people in any adjoining rooms, the motel managers) don't think I'm trying to kill you." I remember he was afraid the police would show up at our motel door.

By Ann @ 10:36 AM CST:11:14:04 ..::Link::..