January 5, 2011

I am traveling and arriving places that I once was (supposedly). First I arrive in the middle of a dinner party hosted by friends. I have bags with me of my things. My friends are emily, elly and some other girls plus their boyfriends. I sit down to eat with them in a dining room (which is actually the dining room in the house my parents used to live in that belonged to my grandparents before they moved to tennessee... brown shag rug, low hanging crazy light). Apparently we all go to university and are in the same class. A drama class where we study and perform plays. I had been absent for several days (the reason of which I have no idea) and so all the girls were going over the play with me. Letting me read the part of Goetha, one of the main characters.

In the play, it runs around through time, half of which is medieval and the other half which is set in the early 90's in the projects of chicago. The main character Goetha is a black woman whose past life as a queen comes to haunt her in the ghetto, i guess. This is the character they let me read.

The next day I arrive to class only to discover that I'd been gone much longer than two days and that the teacher is furious about it. "I should flunk you!" she says. "I've given your part to someone else!" I ask her if I can pose as an extra at least or be somebody's understudy but she stutters out a shocked 'no' and tells me to take a seat and to enjoy their reenactment of the play without me in it.

After everyone finishes the read-through, we all make our way to the auditorium in a single line. The teacher makes me stand at the very back of the line and walks with me, making it known how disappointed she is in me. She tells me that tonight is the first night of the production and that she hopes I don't try and sabotage anything. I am so confused at this point. Just moments ago, this class was going through a read-through (not that entirely convincing) and now they're getting their costumes on, putting the set up and preparing to perform this thing in front of a full house. I get to sit in the wings and watch everything. 'The wings' is a small room the size of a square. Ceiling the same length as the walls and so on.

I am in this room with three or four other people when the play begins. It starts in the medieval period. I decide to go downstairs to the green room to use the bathroom. The bathroom is decorated like a queen's would be. Plush red cushions line the walls, gems have been super-glued to mirrors, chandeliers hang low above sinks. I get teary-eyed when i think of all the hard work my class had endured without me to make this all happen. Spending their off hours, pinning tin to the ceilings...

As I'm checking out the place, a boy that had been in the wings with me races down and tells me that I gotta get back upstairs. Something great's about to happen and they need my help. So I race up with him, we run into the wings, he shuts the door. Did I mention that all the walls, ceilings, floor was all made of glass? Well, it was. So we're in this glass box, and I'm watching a scene on stage of Goetha and a man, sitting in the center of a plywood painted ghetto as Goetha is sobbing uncontrollably. No sooner do I see this when the box we're in SHOOTS UP into the air, through the open windows in the ceiling of the auditorium and into the night sky!!! It's weird because when this happens, there is not a sound. Not from the fast movement and not from either one of us tucked away inside. The box goes and goes until zoooop, it stops in a beautiful spot where we're surrounded by stars pretending to be diamonds. None of us can speak, we're so in awe.

Soon though, I hear a sound and turn to see two of the girls in the Wings kissing each other. Fully making out. The boy looks at me with wild eyes and i shake my head. Everything is lovely up here but it definitely doesn't make me want to smooch some random stranger with a buzz cut.

it was an epic one...

Somehow I've found myself in some artists' studio/ living quarters/ performance space. I get the feeling that it's huge even though the ceilings are low. When you look out the windows, you don't see the outside world. It's all some sort of set, in the wings, a back stage area.

I recall a very tall boy named Brad or Brian. At times, he's so tall that my head barely reaches his belt. His height varies throughout this experience. I know that I like him and that he is much younger than me. A college student. But I feel that he is wise beyond his years, sweet, gentle and incredibly brilliant (in the art world at least).

I am suddenly submerged into this lifestyle where there are young people all over the place, spilling from room to room almost constantly. And walking outside of the windows and even leaving the place but always hovering about. There are times when no one is inside of the building because they'll be walking in the "set" area. It is during those moments that Brian and I develop a romance.

While exploring the few rooms, I find a rack of flashy clothing. Sequins, glitter, lace, negligees. I pick out a mini sequined green skirt and a bright colored sweater to wear. When I enter Brian's bedroom, his pants are off. He beckons me over and we begin to kiss and do other things but he acts nervous the whole time, looking behind his shoulder, eyes wide and terrified. It distracts me but I pretend that it doesn't. Suddenly, we hear a door opening and he pushes my body into a corner, behind a guitar case.

A fellow college student enters, a boy and he begins talking to Brian about getting ready. Asking him when and if he'll be prepared for something at a certain time. The guy leaves but attached to his shoe was a thread to my sweater, which quickly unravels off of my body until i'm left sitting hidden in nothing more than a loud skirt and my bra. Brian picks me up and tells me that I have to leave for a little while. I put on something else and do this.

When I'm outside of the place, the building I had been in for what seemed like weeks but what was probably just an afternoon or evening, I realize that there is no sky, no outside world surrounding where brian lived. Just some sort of enormous warehouse with an unending size. I can't see a single wall and the ceiling is so tall, that it's hard to make out. Everything around feels desolate, abandoned - even though people walk around, almost aimlessly. There is a swing set I sit myself on, not knowing what else to do. I overhear a group of girls talking about HOW TO CLONE THEMSELVES as if it's the most wonderful thing in the world.

Apparently all you have to do to create a clone of yourself is to cut off a piece of someone else's body and keep it in a pocket of yours. Something like that at least... Instead of cutting someone else, I decide to cut off a bit of myself. I do this near the ankle, put that skin in my pocket and nothing happens. I decide to go back into brian's little hut after i've waited long enough in the weirdness abounding.

When I enter, I find him lying on his bed next to a version of ME. I start freaking out. I mean, obviously the whole cloning thing worked but which one is the real me and which one came second? I feel sick and pissed at myself for doing something so stupid when MY OTHER SELF sits up, looks at me and tells me to come over to the bed. She and brian are smiling at me.

"We knew you'd make the right decision," She says. Or I say. Don't know how to word that yet...
"The right decision?" I ask.
"To clone yourself, silly. Brian and I both think it'll make things more interesting. Don't you agree?"
I don't know what to say to my strange self with a twisted smile I don't remember ever being able to make. She pats the bed for me to lie on. I hesitate but think of Brian and how happy he looks. I lie on my back between the two of them. We do things I won't divulge but I remember feeling that I did make the right decision after all...

So life with a clone isn't as bad as it seems. I'm still unsure who's the real deal. We try not to talk about it. But it's odd. The other me is definitely more bossy, more in charge than I am. She always seems to know what is going on. With all the random people, with the weird outside. She tells me stories about everything, tales from the past about this place and I nod, still feeling like I don't belong here at all.

One day, after a stroll with my clone around the building we reenter brian's unit to find several women in his bedroom. All fully clothed, shouting and IN PAIRS!!! They're yelling at him for making them get clones! It's a strange sight. Clones yelling about being clones, fury and also sadness in their eyes. My clone and I look at one another and leave the room.

"I'm going to leave for awhile," My other self says. "You can have brian. Keep him happy for the both of us."

I watch her leave, though I don't know how far she'd really get. There's nothing out there! It's at this moment that I realize we're actually in a play. We are in the middle of some sort of performance art. It just all makes sense. The people walking around, peeking in windows. The director always needing to talk to brian without me around. The fact that brian was nervous about getting caught doing naughty things when someone could stumble upon it. We were constantly on display and I didn't have a single clue!

I get angry. This infuriates me. I feel played while being in a play and to top it all off, I have a goddamn clone!!! What am I supposed to do with that, with this, with BRIAN!? I wait until the cloned ladies have settled down and leave. At first I plan on yelling at brian, demanding to be told the truth and then taken home. But after some thought, I decide to play along. To give the audience what it wants, some fucking crazy ass shit.

I put on the weirdest outfit on the rack which is a glittery butterfly costume. Small and risque but also beautiful and a bit ridiculous. I make myself fly around the rooms of his place. He looks bewildered and tries to catch me. I fly out the window and onto the flat rooftop. Everyone is looking up at me. I notice the director boy. And I see my clone, watching my antics. I fly over to her (when I say fly, I really do mean fly). Beside her is another fucking clone of myself. ANOTHER ME! What the hell@??@

I start kicking the first clone and then pulling the other ones hair. Eventually we're all rolling on the ground, claws out, heels piercing shins. All the while, the rambling audience keeps a close eye. Brian finally makes his way to the dust ball of clone rage. He grabs me, pulls me from the pile, and turns me to face him.

"Stop it. Those aren't your clones, okay? They're actresses with fantastic make up jobs. Look closer. You'll see."

I do look closer. So close they can feel my breath. And you know what? They don't look anything like me. And did they ever? Was I hypnotized? Did they look just enough like me to have me believe it? And were there even any mirrors in this place? Perhaps I had forgotten what I even look like at all. I couldn't remember my face at all. But I knew now that neither of those girls were pieces of me.

Everyone's staring at me in my discovery. This wasn't supposed to happen, I guess. The director's coming over to console me. Telling me that it was all for the sake of art. And that my experience is one that will go down in history. My outbursts and confusion and true emotion. Nothing like this has ever been done, he says. No one has ever put on a play without one of the characters knowing it's going on. He says that I've helped to create something magical and truly original.

Listening to this boy, this man only makes me furious and embarrassed that he's giving me the scoop right here in front of the studio audience. All eyes are on me, on the town fool. On the gal that didn't get it. So in the middle of one of his dramatic sentences, I turn and bolt. I start running and running. First Brian chases after me and soon the director isn't not far behind. They're shouting things at my back; apologies, pleas for me to stop.

Well, I do stop. I stop when I realize I don't know where I'm going and now around me are large fake trees growing out of the cement floor. The tree trunks are made out of wood but they're not real. They can't be. I start climbing one. Brian pulls me down into his arms. I wiggle myself free, run away from them and find a huge club. I start swinging the club around my head, closing my eyes in the process. It flies out of my hands mid cycle. I open my eyes to find both boys gone. One up in the pretend tree. The other lying in a pile of costumes.

After my eyes take turns watching both bodies eventually get up, I decide not to run anymore. I let the director approach me. It's hard for him to walk (since I kind of hurt him badly) so it takes awhile. He whips a glossy magazine out of his coat pocket. On the magazine is a picture of me. He explains that I'm already a huge sensation around the world, and I won this success without even knowing it. He's proud of me for making this happen.

I try to read the words on the cover but while squinting my hardest, I wake up in my new bed. Banana curled up between my knees.

sometimes a spouse is just a spouse. just a room in some other house. one we never think about. one we have no worry for.

oh, i marvel at the way you lift your legs from out those trouser things. when you enter in, from a finished swim. and i left your dinner warming beside the fridge.

a calamity it seems to me. the way we could've used to be. if it weren't for every single thing that pushed the water from our stream.

i was young then, i was finger paint. could do nothing but anticipate. and waited for your hand to take a piece of me and spread it thin

on paper or up on the walls. against the prints that years made tall. i was antsy yet so hard to move. if you picked me up, i'd still leave a groove

in the dark shag under a winter tree, decked against a window. in a corner. just a real live shelf for us to hang our life on. our dreams on. our things on.

when i'm dressed, i do come meet you. downstairs before the living room. you sit straight, shoulder width apart, your legs vibrate a cacophony.


















in this real life that is mine i am not at all ready for this radical chill. upon going to sleep each night, i fondle my pillows that have turned into ice cubes, balanced against a wall that hugs a wilderness i'm not interested in. or i would be were it tropical or sparkling in the moonlight or prosperous with people i can invite over. the more the bodies the warmer the seat.

on a lighter note: this bar just played yazoo which makes me happy to be out of the house but saddened that nobody here ever dances.

I typed this at home on my little laptop where the internet fears to tread. while sitting up on some blankets on the ground. banana kept her little paws on my shins the entire time.

i had all these dreams during one snooze of the cell phone. sometimes i impress myself and wonder why i can't just trade these ridiculous dreams in for better memory of actual events...


09-09-10

Dream begins with me having some sort of party all around town, in my big house and into the yard. At the neighbor's across the street and pouring over into the strip mall. The game is you have to bite people five times to turn them into a zombie. I saw many people become zombies. Brigette was almost one. I saved her though. And when I did, I remembered that since I was the one that started the party, I was most certainly the one that could end it. It was because I started getting scared. What if I really did become the undead? I wasn't ready to take any chances. When I ended the game we were in a canned food aisle. She had blood dripping from her mouth. I had blood on my arms from being bitten twice. I took her back to my house where we hung out amongst the rotting corpses and disarray from the evening. We knew our parents would be home soon. Having been at a party themselves.

I'm lost in the streets of a cluttered city which doesn't look like chicago. It may be New York or something imaginary. Every inch of cement is covered in graffiti. I am on a walkie talkie, conversing with someone that is trying to tell me where to go. There is an elevated train track above me. Which makes me believe this is Chicago or Seattle. Under the tracks are little apartments. Tucked away at the tops of steel stairways. I find the right one finally. The stairs are neon yellow. I knock on the door and find about ten people standing on risers. The rest of the people are on the other side of the room behind cameras. I walked into a film being shot. When I enter, everyone acts annoyed. I find out it's because the whole reason I left in the first place was to pick up something for the film makers. Somehow I returned empty handed.

I'm changing in gym class. So many chubby young girls in their skivvies surround me, make me feel awkward. I remember watching these two girls a few feet away from me with their purses sitting wide open, contents spilling out. Quick as anything quick, I darted and snatched up one of their wallets and tucked it into the bottom of my own bag. As soon as I do this, I regret it. I go through many memories then, internally. I think of other times I've stolen and how badly I felt. I want to put that girl's wallet back but I can't now. Everyone would know. Soon, during the changing session, the girl notices her missing thing and becomes outraged. She turns around in her uniform, takes turns looking us all in the face. She looks at me. Asks me square away if I took it. I say no, of course not. Clutching my bag closer to my side. There is whispering all around. "Are you sure you did not take a silver pocketbook? Are you positive?" "Yes. I am positive." Soon the girls next to me are grabbing at my very own purse, trying to knock it from my grip. It takes many efforts but soon they get it from my clutch. First they find my own pocketbook that looks similar to the other girl's. They hold it up as if discovering gold. The girl with the missing one, shakes her head no. Shoulders droop down all around and the search is almost at its end. Until one girl digs a bit deeper and finds the stolen things. Silver and sparkly like an aging star. All eyes turn back to me, evil behind them. Wanting to tear my clothes and rip out my hair. The bell rings and gym class begins. Ladies trample over me, making sure to kick me in the ribs on the way out. I go out the back way and resnatch her pocket book on my way out. Serves her right for making a scene...

Brigette, another friend and i are visiting audrey and ryan. Audrey greets us and immediately starts showing us her new wardrobe. The closet is right at the entrance to their apartment so it makes sense. Without saying a word, she shows us two different wedding gowns with huge bell skirts. I feel confused at the fact that she has wedding dresses in her closet. But there is no explanation.

Next up, she shows us several bras. Four out of five of them are sheer lace. I tell her that style is my favorite because it makes me feel sexy and just seeing these brassieres turns me on. She nods in agreement.
We all follow her through the kitchen where ryan is standing with his arm in a cupboard and onto the back patio where the sky is dark but one tiki torch illuminates enough to get by. We sit on folding chairs in a semi circle. I ask audrey how her and ryan are. She says it's not going well, they maybe broke up. Before I can get any more information, Ryan comes out with his own chair. He sits in the open edge of the circle. We all start smoking cigarettes. Audrey goes off to look out over a city. Ryan tells me about a movie that he just saw, one the reminds him of his current situation. It is called Our Mom is a New Organizer. It's a love story told in a very untraditional way. Man meets married woman. They have a one night stand together. And decide the next day that they should never do that again unless there are no feelings involved. The story lacks romance and a happy ending which is what ryan loves about it the most. As he tells me this, Audrey returns to the group and hears what he is saying.

Oh, it all makes sense now! She says this and scoffs back into the house. Ryan doesn't follow her. My friends look bored on the other end of the patio. They also look tired. I put my head on Ryan's shoulder and try to take a nap. I watch as my friends do the same with each other.

staying with my parents whom weren't really my parents at all. actually, now that i think of it, they were indeed my real parents. the actual people that brought me about. but their house was different. weirdly laid out. a ranch with a side garage. my parents were living in the garage at the time. i was sitting in the kitchen, in the dark.

we had two dogs (in reality we have none). one was a chocolate lab the other some sort of golden retriever mix. the dogs laid on the kitchen floor while i sat at a table in the dark. moonlight pouring in from the window above the sink.

i heard a rustling outside. the dogs heard it, too. i went to the window, they stood about, tailing on overdrive. outside a shadow stood. once the shadow stepped beneath the streetlight, i could see that it was an old woman. she was looking directly at me. she never once looked away as she beckoned me to join her outside.

internally, i agreed to do so but not without my guard dogs. the three of us slowly walked to the woman. the closer i got, the shorter she became. she was shorter than me but not a dwarf by any means. she had a long, crooked nose and a shawl around her head. her whole body was draped in musty garments.

i studied her without saying a word. she carried an enormous black leather sack against her hip. SUDDENLY, she whipped something out of it! it was a tabby cat. an orange and white ball of matted down fur. i got a bit excited (seeing as i love me some cats) and began to walk toward it when WSSHSSHHSHS she threw the cat far across the yard and into the road!

I gasped in complete shock.
What the hell are you doing?! Are you out of your mind? That was -
but before i could finish, she screamed something in another language which i somehow translated to mean, 'GO EAT IT, DOGS!'

I watched as my two normally lovable pets, sped full speed towards the cat. I didn't look away as they began to devour it. Instead, I screamed at the woman to make them stop. She ignored me completely, pulling cat after mangy cat from her bag. All tabbies. All deranged and distraught. All into the road and beneath questionably ferocious animals that may have once been my pets.

I grabbed the woman by the head and started pounding her head into anything that looked hard enough to hurt. She screamed, tried biting me but all the while, still with the cats. I was not strong enough to pin her arms.







Soon after the fight (which I lost the ending to...) I am inside a sort of house cave. I have the knowledge that it used to be an eccentric gift shop with shelves reaching the ceiling with interesting odds and ends. But while I am here, nothing much is left of it. I enter one room that resembles a brick silo. Cylindar, tall but made of brick. Almost like the pillar of a castle. Many of the bricks are missing and in their place, people put trinkets and other things I felt were secrets.

I see my friend, Thom Heet. He doesn't say much. Soon after I see the shopkeeper whom informs all the customers and workers that he has found the boy whose story must be told, and quick! That person is Thom, my friend. I get excited for him.

The shopkeeper makes Thom sit at a computer and type out the story. The whole lot of us can see what Thom is creating as he types it by way of projector on the curved brick wall. Thom makes many spelling errors. The story doesn't get further than a sentence or two before I wake up to a weed whacker.

The memory kicks in when I'm riding my bike up these curvy trails along the sides of mountains. The season is fall. I know this by the burnt sienna, deep red and gold hues of the surrounding world. I ride my bike all over the place with a destination in mind. One I will not know about until I see it.

I stop at two ranches that share a yard. I say this because one ranch is facing the road, directly in front of another much larger ranch that faces the same direction. The house in the rear is completely run down. Its baby blue paint near gone. The garage door is either gone or pulled up, trash pouring out the open wound.

I stop my bike and hide in the ditch. I do this because I see a woman painting the front of the smaller house. She is painting it a deep maroon/ dark brown; the color of cabins. She is tall, thin and her skin is dark. I know her but I don't know how.

I creep around the place, making sure to avoid her attention. I crawl my way to the sad house in the back, stealthily enter the garage. In it i sit and remember that it is my grandfather that lives here. I get excited and enter the house. But am stopped dead in my tracks by the sound of several people talking. I follow the voices to the kitchen, still hidden of course.

About six or so crust punk kids - hair matted down, accidentally dreaded, eyes glazed over, clothes the color of mud, tattoos on the backs of necks - stand hunched around a woman I assume is a real estate agent. She tells them about the place. How they should really fix it up before moving in. How she cannot guarantee that it won't collapse if they don't take the proper precautions and rebuild it. They all nod in succession, not really listening to her. Thinking of all the parties they could throw, bonfires they could stand around.

"Also", says the agent in her suit and pointy grey shoes "the woman in the other house will still be living there. So you mustn't disturb her. She just lost her husband and is willing to give up this half of her property in hopes that you will take absolute care of it."

I remember everything now. That woman diligently painting the ranch is married to my grandfather. The family didn't agree with this marriage but I don't recall having a view. Let people love whom they choose, I always say. But where's grandfather? How could he have died without me knowing? Why weren't there tears swelling up in my eyes? I had to talk to that woman outside. Get to the bottom of this. Try to understand.

As I marched my way outside I felt someone's hand wrap around my arm. The real estate agent had a strong grip. Her face was stern.

"It's about time you got here. I was hoping you could rent this house with the lot of these kids. Keep them in line. Show them some responsibility." She paused. "All while trying to get to know your past."

She led me outside then. The kids watched from broken or boarded up windows as we made our way to the house in the front of the yard. The woman was humming to herself, her bandanna drenched in sweat. She didn't stop her humming or paint brush stroking until we were right beside her.

"I have someone I'd like you to meet." I stood there breathless even though I had barely walked a yard. The woman looked without shock or interest. The way you might look at a bank teller, counting your money.

"You can live here." The woman said. "But I'd like it much better if you stayed in this here house. With me." I nodded in agreement.

The dream ended with me rummaging through my grandfather's leftovers. I had a vision of a small computer I once had that I'd made an incredible movie on. The movie was in 3D and included holograms that could pop out at you somehow. The woman said she remembered such a film and would help me find it once she finished cooking supper for all her newborn children.

i'm not quite sure how it all began. i never am, really. dreams begin somewhere in the middle without an explanation. like opening up a book, plotting your gaze on a random page and starting the story from there.

we were on a ship in the outer world of space. i never saw the exterior of the thing, just the many corridors, common rooms and hiding places of the interior. and there were many rooms, yes indeed. just as there were many passengers. all scientific experts in some way or another. though our talents were never really tested. there were times when i felt that this was real life, a serious expedition through the galaxy and beyond. and yet there were moments when i knew it was being filmed, a documentary but with planned out comedic relief.

you were there. i'm guessing we began this journey soon after our relationship fizzled. either that, or we ended things mid-air. i'm still not sure but i kept a close eye on you. i needed to know where you were at all times. i have no idea why. perhaps my heart was still in it. perhaps i wanted to make sure you weren't kissing some other lady. but there were very few women on the ship. all of which were a million times more beautiful than i. which would explain my close watch on your status.

you wore a purple, almost magenta cardigan. you never took it off. that flash of color bore itself into my retina. always shocking me when near. rising me from whatever.

it was sooner than we expected that the food began to run out. that the money any of us had left began being used to buy sustenance off of other passengers. the hundred dozen gallons of water near tapped. our bodies steaming the worst scents. we had a ship meeting to discuss what to do. we would need to land on the nearest planet or moon and find water. without more water, we would all die.

i was one of few that were voted to leave the ship in search of water. you were among that group of brave souls. it was at that moment, in that meeting, all of us standing in a floppy oval that our eyes met for the first time since the dream began. you quietly smiled and i obviously blushed. the next morning would begin our trek onto some unknown planet.

that evening, i saw a flash of magenta in a hallway mirror. there were very few mirrors aboard the ship. all of which were mounted in common areas for maximum usage. above that purple torso i saw a quick burst of white. your teeth, reflecting the moon's glow which poured in through a small window and bounced off the mirror. this was a time of night when all the lights in the ship were out, letting moonshine take over. you grabbed me and brought me to your room. i shared a cabin with another girl but you had your own.

you threw me on the bed. each kiss brought back memories from kisses previous. wonderful, passionate embraces from not so long ago. in the middle of it all, you stopped. your mouth outstretched right above my neck as if someone else was holding it open. you didn't move for a good solid minute. just stared down at my chest. the heart inside that chest was beating itself against all sinew. wanting to know what the bloody hell was going on!

suddenly, as if a spell had been broken you began to laugh. you didn't just laugh, you roared. it shook the bed, shook our bodies. i imagined the ceiling crashing down from such a sound. and though i wanted to laugh with you, i couldn't. for nothing was funny. not anywhere in that little room was there an inch of humor, a pinch of silliness. so i slapped you out of some strange sort of shame and dashed out of the room, shirt in hand. i could hear that ridiculous laughter all the way to my own cabin where i barely slept a wink.

the next morning, us chosen ones suited up. silver suits, of course. long zippers. heavy glass bubbles to rest on our necks. i was haggard and still feeling sheepish from the night previous. i glanced at you for what should've been a mere instant but the sight of you held my gaze. you looked older somehow, worn out. there were lines in that face that i didn't recognize. but i turned away before you felt my concern.

from the enormous ship we had been traveling in, we few were lowered down onto the planet via large glass box with wood paneling. it didn't make sense to me either. the planet looked like earth but abandoned. the box landed in a deserted and demolished wooded park. in the park was a stream that ran all throughout it. but what was running in the stream was beyond our knowledge. black and brown sludge with the consistency of what could be pudding. the kind that's accidentally lumpy. the kind you pretend to enjoy. as a group, we voted for some of us few to enter the stream and collect what liquid would be at the very bottom. in hopes that some part of that phenomenon was drinkable or at least able to be boiled. everyone was to go down but you, me and another man. we unzipped our suits, took off our helmets and relaxed. it might be awhile until their return.

the other man's t-shirt had a picture of a dreamsicle on it. above the picture it said 'kids machine'. i thought about that for awhile. was it implying that he was a children maker? there was no apostrophe so it couldn't have been possessive... then i looked at you, which i hadn't done since popping my helmet off. i gasped aloud which caught your attention. all of the hair on your head was completely grey. you looked so fragile and i wanted to hold you, to protect you. but i knew that wasn't the right way to react. you would only push such a gesture away.

the other man hadn't even noticed your hair. maybe he didn't really know you. there were several other people upstairs. he could think, right now that you're someone else completely. for if i didn't know you, if i hadn't at one point intimately known those eyes, i may have thought you were just some out of place old man, offered you my silent sympathy and retreated my thoughts back to the dazzling galaxy swirling all around our heads.

i dreamt i was in a harry potter situation. watching a new harry potter movie with this rumor in my head that someone was to get married. i secretly knew it was hermoine (sp!?).

i was chosen to be in hufflepuff. people said it was the most boring choice but i knew otherwise. i was excited to be among dwarves and warlocks and all things magical!

the rest of the dream was me trying to fit in. a muggle among amazing sorcerers. it was a struggle but i remember it to be absolutely enthralling.

i hope i remember more later!

ever feel like you're breathing underwater while walking through air?



scenting chlorine
swallowing pool water
prunes for fingers
skin aglow.

when your fingers can't fit where they're needed
you find other means

a taxi driver with a pack of cigarettes
offering me one after another
ride home to the square
from the park

i hear someone thinks i'm slow
and relish that
contemplate

maybe i am
maybe i'm underdeveloped
perhaps he's overwhelmed
too far knowing
everything i have yet to understand
i'm okay with that

his moustache could dust the shelves
could stack the things
could redirect chaos and also, order

could recognize 'parent trap'
and why this is happening
and how it's a part of the understatement

that becomes muffled
in passing

that pushes cotton in the ears of others

that lets us stand, cradled in our own arms,
rocking back and forth
to music
we know and comprehend
to a feeling
we can't deny

to an understatement of a feeling i once had
one that made my arms lose all movement
all ability
to
function