I’m in the lobby of a rehab center. The space is open to the outside and covered by a giant awning. I’m not sure how I got here, but I know why – for weeks my mom has been berating me for never calling or visiting. I lied and told her that I was a drug addict, too freaked out and busy to deal with her. Now I’m at a rehab center looking down at some document I just signed. Someone snatches it away and I scream “NO!” I bolt out of the space and sprint up a steep hill at an impossible speed. I’m surprised that I can run so fast, since I usually can’t in dreams. I look over my shoulder and see a bizarre vehicle – like a shiny elongated sphere on wheels with an iridescent lavender finish and words scribed all around it. A light blinks atop the vehicle and I know it’s the cops. I run into a decrepit apartment building and search for a place to hide. I spot a door left ajar and glide into the room. I’m in a kitchen. I sense that there are other rooms, but nothing else suggests so. Two men whisper roughly to each other in an indeterminate language, but I cannot see them. My body freezes upon an image: at the end of the kitchen, a small, middle-aged Asian woman gazes blankly at a spot on the floor, her arms folded. Behind her, a crude little Japanese lantern dangles and several Chinese cat figurines float together. Window light floods the room and paints only half of her face – the other remains in darkness. I say, “This would be a nice shot in a movie”. The woman does not react. It dawns on me that ‘it’s been done’, specifically by Chris Marker. I break away from the sight.
I’m outside in the street. I can hear the cops around me, but I don’t see them. I see the entrance of a glass museum that I know I’ve dreamt before. Inside, I get the feeling that it’s a library. There’s a line with a man at the end collecting tickets, beside him, a gigantic orange sphere. The sphere is painfully familiar to me. I run up to the man and recognize him as Jordan. He seems to know that I’m running from something and says he’ll help me hide. We run through a maze of bookshelves, then cubicles, then abandoned office rooms. He stops abruptly in one room and turns around with a handgun resting in his palms. I take the gun and thank him. He tells me to run in the woods instead of the streets – the cops would never look there.
I’m outside again. I see a perfect distinction between city and forest. I tip toe to the right and the Earth seems to shift beneath me so that the city slides away to the left as trees rush in to surround me. The ground slowly drops and forms a hill that I’m now at the top of. I run down, so fast that the trees and ground are just streaks of color. Only the clouds stay static in my vision. I halt at the sight of a strange structure. I think it might be some sort of amphitheatre, covered with beautiful pearl scale-like tiles. The shape of it is twisted and seems to keep shifting. The whole thing looks organic, like a giant seashell – I can’t tell if it’s even manmade. I head toward the bottom for a closer look. There is an arched opening. Inside, the “floor” is covered with pink and orange spiked coral or rock, reminiscent of Bryce Canyon. The rest of the inside is lined with thousands of the same pearl scales, all meeting at one point in a perfect spiral. I start to go deeper inside, but a man grabs my arm and says, “It’s closed”. I notice a couple with their child looking scandalized.
I’m climbing up a fire escape. At the top there are two gristly-looking men enjoying cocktails and cigars right there on the stairs – they don’t acknowledge my presence. The sun is setting beautifully behind them. A deep blue cast drowns everything. Suddenly there is ocean all around and I notice that the fire escape is in the middle of a boat.
It’s night and I’m back in the city. I reach the apartment building from before, but now it’s a seedy hotel. In the lobby, the same Asian lady mans what would be the front desk, but it’s just a corner with a sign on the wall that says ‘front desk’. A few others are hanging out together in the lobby. They gesture at each other and seem to be having a conversation, but none of them are actually talking. I approach the Asian lady and she says “Three dollars for a room”. I hand her three dollars and walk up a flight of stairs. Through the hall there are dark, disgusting stains all over the carpet and walls – I try to avoid them. I find my room, but it’s actually just a balcony. A few people are there, having some drinks. They tell me to look across the street at another hotel. This one is lined with bright green neon lights. They say the hotel is better than the one we’re in and that I should go over there with them to have dinner. We all go downstairs. The Asian lady looks at me and three dollars appear in my hand.
There’s something else about a mattress – something really important, but I can’t remember anything else.
A giant, complicated geometrical symbol is projected into the night’s sky. Somehow, everyone knows it signifies the end of the world.
I am living inside a strange, industrial building - everything is made of black, sticky metal. I suppose it is an apartment complex, but it’s easy to get lost in the labyrinth of dark, twisting corridors and dead-ended stairwells. I know this is what it’s like in the building, but I haven’t left the apartment since the dream started.
I am living with Nick, David, Jordan, and several other people I don’t recognize.
We know it’s dangerous outside - people have gone insane and are killing each other - but I want to see what the east side is like now. I haven’t been outside in a long time.
It’s very easy to leave the building. I can’t even remember how I got out. I’m in a wide, dirt lot in the middle of the day. I steal a bright red car and try to drive around the neighborhood. There are people everywhere, running around in the street sporting knives, pushing empty shopping carts. Almost all of them are wearing a primary color. Some of them are half or completely naked. I’m terrified that I might hit someone, but I don’t want to stop driving. There is dirt everywhere - all over the streets, sidewalks, bus stops, cars. The dirt is truly dark, like a black hole; infinitely dense and devoid of light. The dirt is so dark, that the objects it covers appear to glow. Such contrast is almost physically painful to look at.
I turn back because I’m afraid. There are several large, gated entrances, though some of them are sealed completely with concrete covered in bright, illegible graffiti. I can’t remember how to get to the apartment. I run through one of the entrances blindly. Everything is familiar, but wrong.
After what feels like hours, a strange man helps. He explains that the building is divided into identical sections with the same apartment numbers. All the time searching, I expect the man to kill me, but he doesn’t.
I burst into the apartment, but only a few strangers are there. I ask a woman where Nick, David, and Jordan are. She says Nick is volunteering at Domy and David and Jordan went with a different Melissa to another section of the building.
There is no way to reach them and I feel a sudden, unbearable sadness. I start playing hearts with a group circled around an oriental rug.
I’m with a young man in a giant bed with a fluffy white comforter that keeps trying to flow up above my head as if to drown me. We’re in a hotel room, the TV is on and he has his arm around my shoulder. I still have my shoes on and I keep thinking that I’m getting the bed dirty. I don’t take them off because what if I have to leave really quickly? The man is my friend, but I’m not sure who he is exactly. I don’t know how we got here, but I hope he doesn’t try to make a move. I keep telling him about how much I hate my boss. When he speaks to me, I can tell that the advice he is giving is sound and valuable, but as hard as I try I can’t listen to a word.
Now I’m in an office room with the man. The office is mine – I can tell because it’s decorated with photos of friends. There’s a computer sitting on the desk. I tear it off and throw it against the wall. A little green frog toy that was stuck to the top of it tumbles off and stops by my feet.
I’m in bed with the man again and I tell him about what happened in the office. He says he wants us to start a business. A little girl brings us champagne. I drink it down, still in his arms, and out of no where I start to feel horribly uncomfortable.
Now I’m in a strange, dark hallway lined with gray, windowed doors. I feel like I’m no longer in a hotel, but a school. I don’t have to pee, but I’m searching for a bathroom, just to be in one. I open one of the doors and find a large, dark room. The walls are maroon and textured. The ceiling and floor are black. The room is completely empty, except for a toilet in the corner, on a sort of pedestal, in front of a giant mirror. I approach the toilet and as if my eyes are adjusting to the dark, I begin to see black graffiti and writing everywhere – all over the mirror, toilet seat, walls, etc. The pedestal is very tall and I have to climb it to reach the toilet. Now I see there’s black ink or something all over and around the toilet seat. I give up and climb back down.
I hear the very faint, muffled sound of echoing voices, but I’m not sure where it’s coming from. In the room, I notice that one of the walls appears to fall back into space, past the edge of the floor. I approach it and a railing appears at the edge. I peer over and below my feet is a silver, tin roof. I climb over the rail and carefully step down onto the roof. I look upward to the ceiling and see that now it is a night sky, though I am still surrounded by maroon walls. Now there is cold wind, pressuring my body to tumble off the edge. On my belly, I slide myself to the edge of the roof and drop my head down to look. The roof is covering an orange building and I hear the faint thump of a bass line coming from the inside. I can’t remember any more after this.
I haven’t had such a vivid dream like this in a long time, so I felt compelled to document it. I’m also starting to see a recurring element or emotional tone in my dreams….
Alisha and I are sitting in a decrepit booth (as if in a restaurant) and we are surrounded by tall, lush plants and fog - though I know we are indoors. Nic appears out of nowhere and says that maybe I should call my mom back. As I’m calling her, my mom is physically approaching. I feel a lurch of dread in my stomach. Alisha and I get up to embrace her.
Now I’m in my room, but the ground is covered in dirt and there are Cheezit boxes sparsely scattered about the room. I’m just hanging out with Nic, David and Jordan. I can’t remember what we’re all talking about. At some point Jordan turns to me and says, “Okay, now this is all getting really boring”. Jordan and David have old-looking sporting rifles in their laps, both completely made of a gray-ish metal.
I’m hiding under a table, my back against something hard. There are mirrors close to my face and I can see Jordan with his rifle, always aiming as he creeps along. I begin to fear for my life. He sees me and starts shooting. I shout something at him - I don’t remember what exactly - I think I plead for him to stop and ask him why. He just keeps saying he’s so bored.
I’m running through dead, thin trees as Jordan keeps shooting at me from a distance. I’m running down a beautiful hill, and up another. I look down at my feet and realize I’m wearing a bright red dress. I know he’ll be able to see me from far away. I’m approaching what looks like the outside of an extravagant hotel. There is some sort of party or event going on - lot’s of people in tuxedos and gowns are drinking wine in the entrance of this place. There are long cars circling around and through the crowd. It’s like a big, lavish parking lot. There is an Indian woman that I recognize from school, so I approach her. I tell her in a panic that I need a new dress, that I mustn’t be seen, and I ask her where I could find one that isn’t red. She smiles sweetly at me and says nothing - she just keeps smiling. I run into the building. There is a completely mirrored bar reflecting colorful light all over the space. People aren’t speaking to each other but I can hear ambient crowd noise everywhere. There is a giant, mirrored spiral staircase, but I don’t go up.
I somehow decide to meet up with everyone. Jordan, David, and Nic are sitting together in front of a corner store or gas station in the middle of a field. They’re all sitting on a patch of concrete and I sit with them. I look at Jordan and I feel defeated. I’m not really afraid, but sad because I know he’s probably going to kill us. I kiss Jordan and attempt to telepathically tell Nic not to worry. Jordan scrunches his nose and makes strange, horrible faces at me. Then he laughs and says “I wasn’t really going to shoot you”
She pauses mid-gesture; her lips part - to speak or to eat - I can’t tell.
To speak. Though, not to me sitting across the table – to twin peas resting upon the teeth of her fork, tiny eyes, gazing into hers.
She speaks: “When I was a little girl, I always pretended I was in a movie”
Pea eyes relocate from utensil to tongue. I’m still not here. She clutches the fork with both hands now, and speaks to it with a melancholic air, bereft of sincerity:
“But now I don’t have to pretend, because…….I don’t know what’s real”
She releases the fork as though it suddenly revolts her. The clatter turns heads and she winks, then loosens - breaking character.
She eyes and regards me like I’d only just arrived.
“Oh, hello!” Another wink. “And I look into the camera and say that line - ‘I don’t know what’s real…’”
I wait until a yawn brims my lips to say: “Is it supposed to be facetious like Weekend or poignant like Funny Games?”
“Let’s say somewhere in between.”
“How bout instead a flickering rainbow gif that says ‘fuck your bad vibes bro’ on a picture of a cat wearing sunglasses?”
“Shut up I’ve totally seen that before already.”
Her name is Carol and I actually kind of hate her. Sometimes we get burgers at Moe’s together because although she’s a terrible actress, she’s the only one I have access to right now. However, I haven’t gotten as far as casting in almost ten years, so unfortunately to outsiders we look like friends.
When I can’t take it anymore, the key is to subtly suggest that something distant and urgent is calling to her:
“Carol, did you see that huge line wrapped around Westfield?”
“Holy shit that means there’s like an insane sale. Okay, I gotta go…”
Keeping a fragile ego intact does not come from an altruistic place; rather, a lazy one.
I slow to a red light and a Volvo on the right of me does the same. The driver is a middle-aged man, thick beard and swollen jacket almost concealing his frail form. He peaks at me and I strain to see the eyes. I can sort of make out two pale dots resting in their exhausted craters.
I instantly fantasize that he’s following me at a safe distance. But he’s getting too eager because now I’ve noticed. I drive around, going nowhere in particular, my eyes darting from rear view mirror to wet road ahead.
I’m playing along like some jaded, yet oversexed night crawler. Which one of us is the voyeur?
Oh yeah, and something painfully banal, like Rumble hangs in the air with perfect fidelity and paints the mood around us. All encompassing sound without source; transcending from its own empty void and into his and my subconscious.
Finally, we pull into the vacant lot of an old motel. Hanging over it is one of those flickering neon signs, suggesting that it’s been there for 50 years or so - which doesn’t make any sense because we’re in the most overdeveloped part of the city. (But it doesn’t matter because this isn’t real.)
So we get a room and snort a bunch of lines before having loveless sex.
Sometime later, a simmering cigarette dangles from my sleeping fingertips and somehow sets the grotesque motel curtains aflame.
In our drug and alcohol-induced comas, the bearded stranger and I are peacefully devoured.
But actually we’re still at the light and it’s still red. I look over to my right again and he’s yawning. I yawn too. Now Crime & the City Solution pours out of the Volvo at the exact moment some Hummer blasting Crown City Rockers pulls up to my left, mixing a serendipitous cocktail of clashing worlds that I can’t quite choke down, so I gag.
Maybe I should run the light…
So I do.
Crime & the Crown City Rocker Solution is gradually dampened by a nice combination of climbing distance and true city noise, like Percocet and vodka to a migraine.
Two hooded teenagers (or dwarfed grim reapers) take turns gingerly blowing up a balloon against the unlit side of a 7/11. How poetic.
It takes me the entirety of Sail Away to register that the teenagers were likely inhaling Nitrous Oxide.
It takes me the entirety of Zombie to think, Enya? What the fuck radio station is this? I assign the memory to button number four.
I finally figure it out: Starting from Jefferson, if one accelerates at a consistent speed of 42mph, one will avoid all red lights until about Powell.
When I get home I pace around quite a bit, greeting things to do only to find that they’ve all somehow done themselves.
I go online like I said I wouldn’t and start deleting emails, starting with the ones from 2003.
There’s a draft that reads, “script” in the subject line and in a pathetic attempt to convince myself of my own indifference, I yawn loudly as I click to open the draft.
The body glows white, bare, nearly empty. Two little sans serif words at the top, capitalized with futile conviction and promise, read: “INTERIOR - NIGHT”
My eyes, heavy with laze, seek a post date until discovering that the draft autosaved three minutes ago. Now zero minutes ago. I sulk in my chair a bit - the true birth date of this masterpiece is forever unknown.
I stare…..without intention or expectation….at things, like the cursor, blinking impatiently beside INTERIOR - NIGHT.
A memory prompts me and I begin to type:
“She pauses mid-gesture; her lips part - to speak or to eat - I can’t tell…”
“Out of all the planets, this one is my favorite”
Discodick rolled his eyes.
“Shut up Lilac. You said that about Quadrant64 last night”
“Quadrant64 is not a planet.”
Lilac kicked diamond dust into the air and watched the little particles hang there, glowing turquoise against the warm landscape.
“Hey man, where’s JohnGuy?”
Discodick cartwheeled before each word:
Lilac unhinged the bedazzled walky-talky from her belt.
“JohnGuy. Come in JohnGuy. Where the fuck are you?!”
“Dude…fuck that guy, man. Let’s get outta here” Discodick unlaced his Anti-gravity Air Jordans.
“But we just got here. Anyway JohnGuy said there’s a cold spring somewhere…”
“Are you shitting me?” He leaped into the air and somersaulted through the diamond dust. “Count how many suns you see right now, idiot. Then take off your suit and watch how fast you shrivel up into a Lilac raisin.”
“Oh my God if JohnGuy isn’t here in ten microminutes I’m gonna break up with him I swear.”
Discodick’s somersaults got out of control. He reached wildly for the branch of a flickering juniper hologram. Hugging the trunk, he screamed, “hurry!! It’s gonna disappear again!”
Lilac shoved Discodick’s dangling feet into his Jordans. “You’re retarded.”
He puked all over Lilac’s head and laughed.
Almost instantly after he jumped down from the tree they were making out. Chunks of yesterday’s faux-steak and vomit slid down Lilac’s hair into Discodick’s mouth. He choked.
The unmistakable default ring tone of arrival filled the air, but the two entangled lovers weren’t quick enough to heed their warning. JohnGuy materialized.
“I fucking knew it.” And as quick as he came, JohnGuy was gone.
Two thirty-somethings wonder together if they’d ever shave their heads and after the moment passes, I guess to myself that they later won’t remember the details of their conversation. They’ll probably only feel that there was some ambiguous sentiment shared between them, which helped (along with many other tiny moments – the ones that matter) strengthen their friendship forever, or at least until one fucks the other’s boyfriend.
One says that once in a while you just have to slap someone if they’re being an asshole. The tension is subtle, but her friend doesn’t receive this statement well and the moment crumbles into an awkward lull that will supersede the former moment in their minds forever. I wrongly predicted this friendship, so my attention leaves them and I move on to the guy sitting in front of me.
Headphones that cover the ears, corduroy hat that makes me think of messenger boys before my time, small black coffee for here, Macbook Pro with the anti-glare screen, sand-colored blazer. He gets up, pats himself for cigs, glances at me quickly. Now I suspect he thinks I’m checking him out, that I want to fuck him, that I’m fantasizing about fucking him in the bathroom or something - and now I’m inadvertently fantasizing about fucking him in the bathroom. I find him ugly, and his demeanor irritates me. He approaches and asks for a cigarette, but he says “stogie”. Isn’t that a cigar? As I wordlessly hand him a cigarette, I wonder why it’s so easy for me to dislike a stranger. It’s undoubtedly something wrong and bad, boiling within me, but how do I identify and crush it?
Dad: Marijuana shouldn’t be illegal or legal…it should be a non-issue. You shouldn’t have to legalize a plant. Like I can plant however many tulips I want; nobody can regulate how I plant tulips…
Jenna: Yeah but you don’t smoke tulips.
The only other instance during which I had such a true physical feeling in a dream cross over into waking life was that one time in Mexico. I was having bad stomach aches for about a week in Mexico City. One night I dreamt that something was crawling beneath my skin on my arm. I tried to block it with my hand but it was slithering further up. I was afraid it was going to reach my brain or heart so I ripped my skin open and pulled the thing out. It was a long green worm or parasite and the moment the thing left my body my stomach pain was gone. When I woke up the pain really was gone.
I’m with two other women and we’re trying to get away from a man. I end up in someone’s house, I’m not sure whose. I go into their bathroom and take off my clothes to take a shower. Hot water makes the room steam up and I can’t see anything. Before I get into the shower the room suddenly clears and I see that the bathroom walls are made of glass and everyone in the house can see me. The man is also in the house. I’m afraid of him but I also feel a sort of attachment to him. I look down at my hands and I have blood on them.
I’m with the two women and we’re walking through what looks like the bottom of a canyon. Everything is burnt orange and dry. We walk under huge rock formations creating arches over us. We walk along a thin glittering stream. I remember that the younger woman in our group has to find her baby and bring it to the hospital.
We’re in a big cabin hiding behind furniture. Everything is smooth mahogany. The man is in the house and I start to get nervous. Somehow he’s forced us all into a van. I’m in the front seat and he’s driving. The two women and other people are also in the van. I plead with the man and tell him that one of the women has to find her baby. He doesn’t say anything. We’re driving through a nice neighborhood covered in snow - it looks like a Tahoe cabin resort. The man hits something with his car and the older woman screams “look what he did to that cat!” I look and there are three contorted cats morphed together and frozen, their mouths open like they’re screaming. I say “everything you touch turns evil!”
We park on the side of the road in a very forested place. There is less snow on the ground. It sort of looks like Lincoln Woods. The two women are huddled by the car, crying. I walk up to the man and ask him to just let us find the baby first. He looks at me and gently holds my face in his hands and says “of course we’ll find the baby, I just wanted to show you my old school and pictures of me when I was younger” I look past him and there’s an old brick college in the distance. I suddenly trust him and we hug. I feel a strong affection for him and I’m excited to go with him now. I turn to the women and tell them it’s ok and not to worry.
We’re not walking through a school, it looks more like an old village in a foreign country. I’m walking behind the man, watching the back of his head. He’s very sure of where he’s going. We’re inside what looks like an herb or tea shop. Everything is red and orange and brown. There are burlap sacks everywhere, filled with something. The older woman pulls on my shirt and mutters something - she sounds worried. I ignore her. The man crouches down in a corner and I crouch down behind him. He turns around quickly and throws powder on me once, and then again. I gasp and immediately scream “No!” and I really do have the most intense feeling of something washing over me and sinking into my skin and insides, sucking the breath out of me. It isn’t painful at all, actually it’s almost euphoric - but also really horrifying. I start to slowly descend backward and I’m still looking at the man’s face. I feel horribly sad that I let him trick me.
I wake up and gasp, my heart pounding. As I’m waking up that extreme physical feeling from the dream is slowly leaving me.
There’s a hurricane happening, but everything is still and I’m clutching onto the hood of a car floating in water. Also clutching to the car are David, Laura, and a few others I know. We’re strategizing what to do when the hurricane comes again. I grab onto two levers, David and Laura open the doors and a person clutches to each door. The hurricane comes - a huge wave, lots of wind. The back of the car rises and the front plunges into the water. I’m on top and I see heads submerge
I’m running through a flooded mall with David and Nick. Water keeps creeping up to us as we run.
I’m in some sort of alcove outside - like an alley way, but it has a dead end and some sort of ceiling - kind of like a little cave. I’m with David and we’re wondering where everyone else is. We can hear the hurricane coming. Water and wind rushes right past us and doesn’t fill the alcove - we’re protected. I say to David “This is the perfect place! How do we tell everyone?” I look outside. The sky is black with dark gray swirling clouds, black rain and lightning. I see the tops of roofs and water rushing in and out like a tide. The water is black too. When the water rushes down it reveals huge steps leading to a big pool of water where people are swimming and playing - others are sitting on the steps tossing a beach ball. The water rushes in and it’s all covered again.
I’m on stage in a play. There’s a guy to my left that I recognize - he’s a part of a group of people I sort of know. He turns to me and mouths “wanna get out of here?” I say “yeah” and he grabs my arm and we run off stage. We’re running up stairs along side the audience and I try not to look at anyone because I know they’re looking at us. We’re outside and I look at him - he’s skinny and blonde and I don’t feel any sexual tension because I internally know he’s gay. We hold hands and he’s running much faster than me. He whips his arm up and pulls me into the sky and back down. I’m freaked out because it feels like he’s going to let go and fling me into the air. We run up white stairs and again he’s running faster and pulling me upward where my feet are barely touching each stair. We get to the top and it looks like the entrance of a mall or museum or something. We talk for a little bit but I forget what we say. He balances on a little potted plant on the ground. We hug a few times. I take out my phone and it’s stuck in “camera mode” I look at it and I see my face on the screen but it’s distorted like it’s being filtered through a kaleidoscope. These two Japanese girls pass and ask what’s wrong. I show them my phone and one of them takes it. She says something like “Oh yeah I know how to fix this” She strokes the back with her finger and suddenly we’re surrounded by translucent, pastel frames with menus floating past in a row. Some of them are in Japanese and I can’t read them. The girl stops at one and taps her fingers onto translucent buttons. The screens disappear and she hands me my phone.
I see the guy I was just with heading toward busses where all our friends are. He goes to his group and I see my group - each group going onto different busses. I stand outside one bus trying to figure out how the girls made the screens pop out of my phone. Everyone’s entered now so I walk onto a bus. It’s not very full and I see Alexa and Meg and a couple others from high school who I recognize. The bus is oddly shaped, some seats are much higher than others and it appears that the interior of the bus curves at an angle into a v-shape. Everything is pale blue. I sit in front of Alexa, she asks what song I want to listen to. I wish I was on one of the other buses. I lay down on my seat and look up out the window. The bus is suddenly gigantic. Outside beautiful orange and yellow and green colors rush by. Everything outside is soft and glittering. There’s a frequent flickering glare on the window of a giant menu like the one on my phone.
We get to our destination. I’m walking through a bunch of huge white tents - the insides of them are dark with soft colorful ambient lights. I go into one and there are a row of bleachers with couples sitting on them making out. I go to the other side of the tent and sit on the ground. The ground is dirt and I start drawing into it with my finger. Someone sits down next to me. It’s a guy from my past - high school (no names for this part). We smile at each other. He leans in and kisses me and soon we’re having sex. I get up and leave. I’m frantically brushing dirt off of my clothes. I bump into Nick and he asks me why I left the play. I tell him about the gay guy. We walk together. Nick asks if I do yoga, I say “sometimes” I wonder why he asks this and hopes he isn’t insinuating that he saw me with the guy from high school. Then I turn around and there’s a giant neon sign that says “YOGA”.
I come into grandma’s house, everything’s dark with a cinematic haze. I know that grandma had just died. Everyone’s in the big dining room but it looks weird - the carpet is red velvet, the curtains are black silk, I remember seeing bronze. My aunts and uncles are there and they’re moving around furniture, which makes me uncomfortable. Bernadette says something like “there were things behind here that she didn’t want anyone to see”. Someone’s holding a big frame with collaged photos, and Pat pushes around a TV playing something I can’t see. I want to look at the things they’re talking about, but don’t want to be rude. Everyone is dressed nice so I look down and I’m wearing my PJ bottoms. I say “I don’t have any dress clothes!” And my aunts say it’s ok, but I know it isn’t. I somehow run into Jenna’s room and ask her if I can wear one of her outfits. I go deep into her closet and rummage around for clothes. She has so many clothes - and so many of the same of each dress (but in different sizes). Lots of flower dresses, some leather, jean skirts - nothing Jenna would ever really wear. I ask her why she has so many of the same thing, she answers me but I don’t hear. Her voice sounds like there’s a low-pass filter on it. I find a pile of dresses and she tells me not to look at those. I look anyway, some look really beautiful but when I unfold them they’re ugly. At the bottom of the pile, one has a picture of the planets, floating pentagrams, and tasseled rope designs suspended in space - the images start to move and glow - I put it away. I’m outside walking down a street and it’s night time right after a rain. I go into a Chinese thrift store and look around, believing it’s a brothel fronting as a restaurant. Doris is in the store by the front counter, she tells me to come and look at the sweater she’s buying. I come up and touch the sweater - it’s really soft and so bright blue that I realize all other colors around it are actually gray. There’s an old Chinese man behind the counter with a cigarette stuck in the hole where his front tooth should be. He says “Four”. Doris goes through her pockets but can’t find anything. She turns to me and says, “buy this sweater for me”. I look at the sweater and touch it again and yell, “No!” We both leave the store, as we’re leaving the Chinese man says “Ok three!” I feel tempted to buy it but I don’t.
(Found as I was trying to dump shit from my computer):
City streets, looks vaguely like 3rd where the Metreon is, but that’s not it at all. I’m running away, really terrified, I go into a movie theatre thinking “he” wont find me there.
Later I’m in a bathroom or something, people who work for him are looking for me. I go into a stall, point of view from the toilet. A huge stall where you can easily see in from the outside. On the left a door that leads to another bathroom. When he kicks the door it covers me, I’m not seen. But another man sees me in the huge crack and goes to tell them. I was so upset at myself for not running into the other bathroom. I see rectangular windows that might lead to outside and climb through those. I have to climb through another layer, slightly more squarish ones, but I go through both with ease. They’re watching me from outside. I’m climbing down the side of the building, using old computer parts dangling and jutting out the side of the building as leverage. I don’t know what happens when I land.
If I can just last until a certain point, I fly back to Providence to go to school and he won’t be able to get me.
Something about my cell phone. I get rid of it at some point, maybe – so he can’t trace me?
A room filled with lots of the same thing covering the ground.
Friends are with me, they are familiar but now I can’t place them. Someone is there, instantly familiar to me (real life familiar) I know he is the one after me for some reason. I go and hug and kiss him thinking it might help. We kiss for a long time. I don’t know if he knows that I know that he’s the one after me. He wonders why I was running away from him. I run into a room with nothing in it.
Somehow I’m on the floor looking at a computer screen, someone familiar is beside me, a woman. Letters and symbols in red on the screen. I instantly know what he did. I yell “he’s deleting me!” and the side of my face is on the ground looking up at the woman. I yell a prolonged “mom” at her, even though she’s not my mom. My voice is distorted, I start fading. I see tiny, bright red dots, lots of them veiling me.
Guy: “I think I could be a sociopath”
Girl: “Could you?”
Guy: “I don’t know…”
Girl: “You look like one…”
Guy: “Do I?”
Girl: “Social interaction is rare for me.”
Guy: “Me too!”
Girl: “Want to go to Academy of Sciences this weekend?”
Guy: “I can’t blow money on stuff like that.”
Girl: “Oh ok. Well if you can’t afford it then…”
Guy: “I can afford my ticket…”
Girl: “I can pay for myself. I’m not that kind of person.”
Guy: “It’s not like it would be charity”
Girl: “I know.”
Guy: “It’s compensation for sex.”
(stopped listening here for a bit)
Girl: “Working for google is going to be an amazing experience. I just don’t want to work at this point in my life, that’s all. But it’s, like, the most amazing job ever, don’t get me wrong…”