Monday, April 24, 2006



So many dreams I didn’t want to write a single one of them down…except that one was about chaos at work. And one involved Dina and me and one involved me double housesitting so I hired a group of teens to fill in for me.



I am holding hands with my father, walking down a date tree lane, talking about them. Then I bring his hand to the crack of my butt, and he carresses me there. we walk aroudn the block and it turns into night. The sky is so beautifully starry. We’re on our backs on the grass behind a building. Then he spies chocolate and other treats. We exclaim and dig. It’s the Easter Bunny’s candy, I say.

Throughout, I was conscious of this being my father and conscious of not wanting it to be my father.

Other dreams I forget.


Dreams was so stressful that I woke up with pimples forming on my forehead and chin!


JK came up to me, as I was in some dusty basement. There were lots of other people there, too—an open-to-the-public-thing, a museum? We kissed in greeting. But he didn’t stop kissing me, and so we made out. It was really hot. We started to having sex. But something was wrong that I don’t remember—uncomfortable. I said, I’m not comfortable with all these people around. And he was disappointed. But followed me as we tried to find another place. Was a little disappointed because he thought it would have been really kinky. I remember him sneaking us into an “invites only” place on Main Street. But as we were resuming, people (other invitees) kept coming in. We had split apart on Main Street and I don’t think I met up with him again—but I remember feeling very unresolved about the whole thing. And next I remember being in the shower, but the water won’t let down. I shut it off and get out, and the water continues to rise and spill out of the tub. I’m trying to figure out what to do to stop this. There’s a lever on the side of the tub that I slowly push, not really knowing what it does—could be what will stop the water from flowing. Could also be that lever that releases the floodgate waters that I had heard about (this is not a good thing) but I wasn’t sure. And I’d never been told about the floodgate thing anyway. So whatever I do, I do innocently.

It was the floodgate lever—we lived in an estate on a hill, in close proximity with other houses, like the neighborhood on Protero Hill I lived in for a bit. And it was a concrete wall that screened our courtyard from the street. Once the floodgate waters were released, I watched with wonderment as water crashed through and tore down the concrete wall between our ouse and our neighbors and flowed with amazing velocity onto the street. I knew that there was a huge amount of damage and material recovery costs involved in all this. I realized that people would be angry, sad, disappointed, all sorts of emotion. I was feeling merely washed—feeling awed by the immense power of what I’d unleashed. Not fearing reprocussions or accusations. Actually firm in the belief that I will be forgiven, that all will be all right, and that everything is happening as it should be.

Our estate, (I had some ownership of it somehow) was very big, and so underoccupied that we were renting it out as a conference site (there was one there then, as small annual group of writers or philosophers).


DL went to that invite only place on Main Street to rent a room and was told that prices had gone up. Used to be you could rent out a night for $100 - $200, but now the key security fee was $18,000. His jaw dropped in show. He was looking for a nice place to treat Kim for a honeymoon or something. We were all giving him advice, the majorty of which was to have Kim come down—that the fee would probably be different (less) if it was her.


A very confusing activity-laden dream taking place in Dina’s apartment. Bookstore business with Nancy and DK. Dina. Suz. Everyone else who usually appears in my dreams, I guess.

These are my dreams.



LK trying to give away her peacock. Talking up its qualities: you can eat it, cook with it. It can sing to you, etc. Feathers, meats…

I do want it, but what would I do with it? Dina volunteers to take it. I say thanks to her for taking it—and she say thanks to me for not following my impulse so now she get a great bird.

Monday, April 17, 2006

running into animals - running errands


Suz was leading me to go swimming in a place where at least one alligator was known to live. She wasn’t afraid. There’s a log in the distance that we had to cross. I was afraid of getting in too deep.

“The log is perfectly safe,” she said. Then we really see it clearly—it was an alligator! We were on the bank, scaling down to the water… Suddenly I see a gator form on my right.

“It’s a dead one,” she said and even nudged it to prove it to me.

I saw it slowly open its eyes and awaken. This place was infested with gators. Leaving it means we’d have to scale a tall concrete wall by shimmying up a tall post/rain gutter then cross over the wall into the border town (some Italian city).

We tiptoed through the field, where numerous gators were sunning themselves, their mouths open. They were hungry and would not mind eating us, this we knew. But they as long as they remained unprovoked… Suz went first. Easy for her.

I reached the top and had trouble heaving myself over the wall. She (on the other side) went to get help from some lady friends and a male painter. They were less than enthusiastic but willing helpers.


I was looking through DB’s ties. He had an artful collection. One had photos of kites made in shapes of microbes. Another was designed by Paul McCartney.


I was celebrating at a dinner table. I was eating peaches and cottage cheese. A 10-year-old girl had just accomplished something she as very proud of—a test or something—and exclaimed with self satisfaction that she was “in the Tennessee of my life” (walking on air)


DK/T were at a party—Jan Frazier’s got another poetry chapbook out “Lumin-something” printed in the same style as her last one. She’d also bought a magazine of Pamela Anderson Lee whose pages have dispersed. I helped her to pick it up, laughing a bit.

It feels like someone’s home. The family is there at the table that Jan, DK and me stood around. Stacks of books or DVDs or something. The grown ups were apparently outside. We were watching them through a bay window. They were coupling up or recoupling, who knows? It looked like fun.

Later, DK and I went for a walk and lost each other. I went in the Co-op to continue my shopping. Then I waited outside with my Dad by a truck where some rakish boys were loitering. Dad and I were just chatting. I looked up and there was DK coming towards me—cowboy hat, boots, jeans, wifebeater. He reached out his hand to me. I took it and rose. Gathered my stuff and we went off.


With Dina and DB was sent off to get milk for the elder lady and her officeworkers. Walked to Farmer’s Market. I only had a couple bucks (not enough?) Walked to some other convenience store then decided to go the home of elder man I’d met not long again with the pretense of checking up on him. His name is Harry. I got there just as he was going for a stroll. So I walked him out. And I rightly ask for a glass of milk. Got back and Phosy said, Where were you? etc. I mentioned how I had to walk everywhere—sorry. And DB was here and just hugged me except that he had one objection.


I’m hanging out at Dina’s house (sleeping over or something). She takes her giant hairy tarantula out of its cage so it can run around. It was huge. It was black. At one point, it saw me and ran up my body and draped itself across my shoulders like a fur stole. And I cried. And then the spider was cavorting around also with Dina’s black kitten—they were almost the same size.

Other dreams, too, but they are not the main dreams, and I don’t really want to write about them.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

people and stuff moving


Dreamt that I still has lots of stuff left in my apartment and went back for it the next day and a family had moved in already—a woman with three daughters—I feel now as if I’ve had this dream before—they were friendly enough and let me in. Then the dream gets confusing and fuzzy. I know there is a more indulgently complex story that included driving a car and possibly my parents. But I don’t know.


Guy named Chandler (who is really Nathan Heneveld). Me and K stuck a note on the door “____ Dance (?) here—all Welcome” to get the young kids upstairs to come. They did. Along with their mom (?) The giant penguins they were on ____ about. But then questionable character neighbors started coming down to join the party. We had to watch our furniture. It was really expensive nice stuff that belonged to Dad, where K and I were staying. Things kept moving around, but nothing seemed to have been pilfered. I didn’t notice until later anyway. It was a nice long burlwood coffee table. I asked K about it. He said Andrew stole it—and that’s how he knew there was a lawyer named Andrew in town—Dad must have caught him in the act and prosecuted.

I only set up house. Bathroom doesn’t have its own door. Just curtain. Etc. I dreamt of something place that looked like this before.


Me and Dina and Jenn Bayliss driving around in convertibles.

K and I were taking care of two kids: a boy in a stroller and a girl old enough to walk. K could have been DB, unromantically. He walked them out of the school we were all in and winded up at the Berklee Music Festival. We couldn’t afford admission, but there was lots of wander around space nearby. It’s a mish-mash of the Co-op and the school.

In the cafeteria I snuck food out without paying for it. spb was alone somewhere eating dinner. They’ve changed the décor of the Co-op interior—it’s now a baby blue nautical theme. I went barefoot everywhere. DK was here too. We embraced and talked about the future. He’s had existential questions. Lots of Marlboro College students around. People everywhere. Just as I was going to go find K and the kids, they came back.


lots of people lots of stuff happening in my dreams—gardens, big and lush with grapes and squash, etc. Something about crushes on boys…

Monday, April 03, 2006

story sticks


It must have been in 2003 that I had a dream of my divining someone's fortune. It involved throwing down sticks with heiroglypic makings on them. Other tools were a bar of soap, a dime, and a tea saucer.

The next evening, I was with friends at the local teahouse, where they have a large selection of tarot cards for public use. I told the women of my dream--I'd just remembered it.

"Ooh! Let's see!" they cried. "I want you to read my fortune!" "Now!"

So pressured by their enthusiasm, I grabbed a handful of tea stirrers and a black sharpie and created them on the spot, approximating the essence of the markings I'd dreamt. I gave seven readings that night. EVERYONE said they were pretty accurate/insightful. Who knew? Even a woman I'd never before met asked for one and said it spoke truthfully about her life. Hunh?


Grab a handful of the sticks and shake them around in your hand as you mull over your question or topic. When you're ready, toss them onto the table. I try to decipher the message(s) based on the way the sticks fell.

I heard this is akin to the I-Ching. I don't know anything about it. It felt very primal to me in the dream. And all I can really say is that I intuit by feeling--a sense of "rightness". I imagine this is how all intuitives work anyway.


It all depends on how the sticks spread themselves out. Whether they land on their blank or marked sides. How they fall in relation to each other: where they cross, if they land astride or askew. And of course, what markings appear.

Usually there is a prominent stick that represents the questioner and/or the issue at hand. I go from there. I call them "Story Sticks" because what I end up telling is a story about the person or topic.


I've read for many people this way. Sometimes combining them with a reading of my Dream Cards (which I created from with motifs from my own dreams--a post on that later) for more insight. Just one way in which the magic of dreams carries over into the "waking life".