Thursday, November 03, 2011


Just wanted to note a dream I just had (@8pm Thursday, November 3) so I can look back later and see if it meant anything about The Girl, or The Cancer:

In the dream I was in an apartment, and arguing with everyone around me (surprise), including old friends and a big male neighbor. I was extremely verbally rude to the neighbor, thinking, what could happen? He took it and took it, then threw a 4-foot-long staple gun through my window; it lodged in some bookshelves. Then the neighbor and some of my former friends kept milling about outside my window, peering in and laughing. I was outraged, trying to get some sympathy for myself, pointing out what he had done...everybody thought it was kind of funny. I called the police, thinking at last or at least I'd have some "justice"... they kept me on the phone talking and explaining, not taking the thrown staple-gun very seriously, and not coming.

At one point after this the neighbor passed by my apt. window and made fun of my not having a job. How did he know this? I'd told some street-looking women who had been milling about earlier, thinking at the time that it would bond us, but they just ended up turning over the info to the neighbor. At the job comment, I screamed at him and started screaming at everyone else -- basically trying to get their sympathy against him, to no avail.

The dream venue then spread out to a convention-type area, a public place where some sort of festival was going on. Here I was walking around among a bunch of strangers, occasionally running into some people I knew (including some of the "friends" from around my apartment). I was still very upset and panicky by what had happened at my apt., just wanting to clear the bad vibes and make ordinary contact. I saw one old co-worker and we had a pleasant brief conversation, her showing me some poems in a notebook (she wasn't a writer in real life). She had her son with her, about the same age as my oldest nephew. It made me feel good to see him, but I was also irritating him, and he was cranky with me. Then his mother spotted someone she said was "Morrissey" (the singer) leaning against a wall with a couple of other guys -- the man looked like a 20-something Austin hipster with a scruffy beard rather than the British singer, but apparently it really was him, and the friend/mom got his autograph.

Dream venue now still at the convention-center-type place, but this time there's a huge prom going on, with a lot of my old friends from high school (and more of the "friends" from the apartment) milling around. Most are dressed up in prom gear. By now I have run into a random young man, about 16 or 17, whom I'm friendly with and hanging out with. We go up and up and up some spiral ramps, passing suites where my old high school friends are partying and having fun. People look at me but don't acknowledge me. When I and the kid finally get to the very top of the ramp, there are two suites there. Turns out Morrissey is in one of them. My teenaged friend starts talking with him and I feel like a third wheel. I tell him I'll wait for him downstairs. I go back down and down and down the ramp, and stand in an open area at the bottom and watch dressed-up, happy people go by (all old friends from real life, none acknowledging me), looking up occasionally to see if the teenager is coming back down. After a long while, I realize he's not coming. I feel a clean sort of loneliness ("good for him") and decide to keep walking around...

A young Irish-looking woman with short, dark red hair and a veil-type thing on her head (not a real veil, but a bachelorette-party kind of thing) comes up to me, standing a few inches away and looking intensely at me. She says, "Do you remember me?" I do. (In real life, she's a girl I met at the UT game a couple of weeks ago.) Her body is giving off great heat. We start kissing and then making out. Complete warmth and comfort emanating from her. I tell her about what had just happened to me earlier, how the apartment people were mean, how nobody would talk to me. She kisses me some more, then touches the left side of my face and my left breast (my left, to her right) and tells me that I have cancer in those places. I can't figure out if I'm going to die from it or not. At the moment, I'm not worried about it, I just, very much, want her to go home with me. (Though I guess if she's symbolic of "Death," I'd be going home with HER!) :)

And I pick this moment in the dream to have to go to the bathroom! I REALLY have to go. And the bathroom is like any club bathroom --- toilets overflowing to the brim, toilet-paper and pee and water all over the floor, dressed-up girls putting on makeup at the mirror. I try to get situated on a toilet without letting my butt touch the poop that is floating at the very top. And the poop keeps overflowing, and a young black woman outside my stall, wearing a dark-blue dress with white polka-dots, is accusing me of causing the literal and figurative crap to flow out from under my stall door! I keep trying to simultaneously defend myself to this woman and just GO, so I can get back to The Girl outside...

And in the middle of all of this, I can hear the Death/Love Girl talking to my real-life junior-high friend Debbie (who is dressed in jeans and a red-and-black flannel shirt, unlike the other prom-attire). To my happy surprise, she's telling Debbie that she really likes (loves?) me... At this point I wake up, still trapped on the dream-toilet unable to "go" because of all the surrounding filth, but feeling deeply happy that The Girl is waiting outside...


95% of the stuff above was explicable via Freud: I'm not getting along well with anyone right now and feel very isolated; I just a couple of days ago had to call the cops on the big neighbor next door (though I had no personal contact with him); I can't find a decent job and am embarrassed about it; the temp gigs working big football games have put me in a festive setting (with spiraling ramps) surrounded by well-dressed people that I'm apart from while being in the middle of...

I'm interested in this Dream Girl, though! I met the real-life version (in looks) at a UT game last month: I was posted in a chair guarding the stairwell against rich people trying to sneak out for a smoke; she was a bartender in the suites right across from me. For only about 20 minutes --- I was a "floater" without a set position; my job was to walk around and relieve regular stair-guarders for their breaks, so I only got to be near her post/suites for those 20 minutes.

During my time there, she was mildly irritated because she'd put in a call for Bloody Marys over 15 minutes ago, and the drink runner hadn't arrived with the drinks, and her rich people in the suites were getting irritated at her! Since we stair-guarders aren't allowed in the suites, even after-hours, I was mightily curious about what went on in there --- not so much what the rich people were doing (the doors are open, and I can see that), but what exactly the bartenders had to do and how they did it. So we chatted about that while I was there, in the middle of her drinks finally arriving, and her going back and forth to serve them, et al. She was very Irish-looking (I tried and tried to think who her looks reminded me of; finally came up with... the short-haired girl singer in "The Commitments," played by Bronagh Gallagher), but when she opened her mouth, she had the most beautiful upper-crust British accent! (I suppose, with a bartender, I was expecting Cockney!) It's kind of trite to find that accent sexy -- who doesn't?! -- but... it really was very sexy! :)

And then I kept watching her move: Normally I'm not that attracted to girls who are shorter than me (I'm 5'8" and she was about 5'4"). And normally, I am often more attracted to "willowy," graceful girls, and she was sturdily built -- not fat or "stocky" or "muscular," but "compact"... And she moved "with purpose." (Yeah, because she had drinks to get out!) :) The type of energy of her movements was something I hadn't particularly noticed or found attractive before in general, but she herself was interesting to watch "in action." UnRomantic as it sounds, her movements said "competence" and "safety" to me, and I liked watching her. (A girl that can bartend has seen the world and can handle the world. I myself have seen large segments of the world, but cannot yet quite reconcile myself to how things and people and myself really are.)

The highlight of our 20 minutes for me: She offered me a "drink"! Not a "drink" drink, but a can of soda, which the bartenders (but not us stair-guarders) had access to, and that she had to sneak out to me! How cute is her sneaking me a Dr. Pepper! :)

Anyway, as I said, this post is a "marker." Events, both real and dream, all most probably fading into the ether, but just in case I get cancer or run off with a Brit who looks like the Irish girl below... you, and I, heard it here first! :)

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