Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts

Dreaming Awake

A while back I had this dream.

I got a call from Clover earlier today.  Some guy that comes into the bar every once in a while, usally with Michigan was shot in a gas station robbery last night.

I didn't get why she was calling me until I saw the news report later.

That guy, Charlie Bunk, was the dude from my dream.

They showed the security camera footage and there he fucking was in grainy black and white.  Huddled against the chips and tic tacs to the immediate right of the door was a small dude fumbling in his pockets.

After thirty seconds or so, I walk in.

What in the name of puberty Christ?

Last night I was in West Virginia.  The television is reporting Murder in Lebanaon, PA.  That's like 250 miles away.  Check for yourself.

I watch myself on tv and I look into the security camera square.  After a beat I turn and brush my hand against Charlie Bunk's jacket.  I exit and a minute later Bunk draws on the clerk who got to a shotgun quicker.

Bunk is shot dead from a slug to the heart.

That's it, I'm off the Nyquil.

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Dreams

When traveling in the Keystone state I suggest you scout out your accomodations before hand.  Just hoping an affordable room in Western PA will miraculously open up and be...what's that word...clean, well that just isn't going to fucking happen bucko.

I couldn't get to sleep last night to save my fucking life.

The mattress was lumpy, the pillow smelled like dry...fluids.

The god damn air conditioner/heater made a thumping sound all fucking night and the lack of a comfortable tempature made Gobi Desert in my nose.

But, Son of a Bitch Mitch taught me the secret to insomnia...Robotussin and Old Grandad.

I woke up in the air, singing a sad song, a culling song.  The wind is my hair and divides it.  A thermal current comes up and allows me to rise on my outstretched wings.  

Tonight is the Exodus, and I am Mavet.

He will deliver you and I will destroy.

Mavet and Avaddon

Malach ha Mavet

The streets are rivers and mountains walls.  I swoop into alleys and leave tears.  

I am The Instrument.

I wake up on the floor.  One leg still in the bed.  My fucking nose is bleeding.

Mitch is an asshole.

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Dream a little dream

I got a cake the other night for my B-day. Some chocolate, chocolate horror show that was punishing as well as delicious.

Well, around 2.00 AM I was stumbling through my loft, scratching my ass when I spied that chocolate bastard. Four slices later I was in Never Never Land.

Another colossal mistake.

I was in a waiting room, all white, sterile. I was sitting next to this guy who's feet was tapping a jig on the white linoleum.  To call him nervous would be like to call an ant tiny.  The guy was all nerves and flop sweat.

"Will Bretton, Will Bretton, you may enter..."

Some other guy I hadn't seen before jumps up and goes out the single white on white door.  A smile crossed his face and he became relief.

All this dissappointed my neighbor horribly.

"So, uh man, where are we?"  I figure he'd be the one to know.

"Are you fucking kidding me?  Where else do you think we'd be?"

"Sorry, I just got here."

"This is the end of the line, dipshit.  And I've been sitting here two fucking years waiting to be called."

"Called for what?"

"Just leave me alone man."  With that he scurries across the room to another chair.

Time passes.

Time pauses.

"Cathy Rohrbaugh, Cathy Rohrbaugh you may enter."

On and on it goes where people are called, each name a dagger in the heart of my friend.

"Sam Conners, Sam Conners you may enter."

My friend gives a whoop and jumps up.  I also jump up because, something about the name Sam Conners resonantes in me.  

We both head to the door.

An Orderly stops me. "You may not enter, you are not eligible."

"I'm fucking Sam Conners man, let me in."

"He's Sam Conners, you ain't him."

My friend shoves past both of us and turns and flips me off.  "Later mother fucker."

"I'm Sam, come on."

"You ain't Sam, shit you ain't even supposed to be in this room."

"Not my time."

"Not your plane fucko."  The sound of the door slamming wakes me up in my loft.  

Plane?

Sam Conners, just saying it now makes me pulse.  Rog's job is a piano tuner.  So he's always carrying around a tuning fork.  He showed me how it worked one day, and that's how I feel right now, like a cosmic tuning fork is being held next to my soul.

My name is Sam Conners.  I have no memory.  I woke up in Pittsburgh.  

The TV is on, Quantam Leap is on.

Good show.

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Dreams

I dreamt last night that I was flying, looking down on a world in ruin.

In the beginning of the dream, I saw burning garden.

Then I saw a burning Egypt, complete with refugees stranded by a sea

Finally I saw a modern world brought to it's knees by nuclear bombs and the voice of one man saying over and over again.

Shma Israel! Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad!!!

All this I saw from the sky.

I really should stop drinking Nyquil.

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Dreams

I had another set of weird dreams last night.

Clover, the burnout, thinks that my dreams may actually be memories from my past life coming to the surface.

She also believes that rocks have feelings and humans evolved from acorns.

I dreamt that I was at a gas station on some winter night. I was outside of my body, looking down, watching.

A nervous man was fumbling in his pockets to the right of the doorway and stealing quick, furtive glances at the clerk.

I walked behind the man and let my hand brushes against his arm.

He looked me in the eyes and was shocked. He said, "What do you want?"

I replied, "Shalom."

Then I woke up.

So Clover, tells me this must mean something. I tell her she smells like apple butter and horse shit. She tells me to fuck off.

I have to get back to work.

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Dream

I had a dream last night.

A dream of heat and feathers.

I woke up sneezing and sweating.

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