dream #116


1. I read about man who has a brain hemorrhage after some sort of biking accident. The doctor removes part of his skull to release the pressure. In the meantime, the doctor has the removed piece of bone sewn into the patient’s abdomen cavity in order to keep it sterile until it is later needed.

2. The lemon handgun incident: I stay up late one night designing a lemon handgun. I take all the workings of a regular handgun such as spring-loaded cartridges, firing pins, etc, and craft them to fit neatly inside the shell of a lemon. The design is perfect. Squeeze the lemon to get something bitter. It is the ultimate concealed weapon. I then spend hours drawing a McFarlane like comic book rendering of a man running up to a car with a lemon raised above his head. He is yelling at the driver to get out. “Break yo’ self nigga.” He is trying to car jack this poor individual, yet nothing is taken seriously because it appears to the innocent driver that this is some sort fruit vendor, gone mad with produce. Know one knows the danger that actually lurks ahead.

3. I am sitting around with Christie Watling, who then slowly starts to change into Christy Turling, who then changes into Christina Batista, but yet some how underneath it all, is still my ex-wife. It was a molting affair. We are talking, exchanging dialog of what we think are important things, yet we are supposed to be heading up to Brussels to watch a movie with or son Gavin. Gavin comes into the room and asks what is taking so long, we then (jokingly) tell him to meet us in Brussels. Gavin, at the age of ten, rents a car and drives it all the way to Brussels. Some how my ex-wife and I end up in some underground car parking lot that is associated with the Cinema. Immediately I am worried and begin to yell out Gavin’s name. From behind us, sitting on some steps, in very nonchalant way, Gavin says, “what took you so long?” We ask how he got all the way to Brussels. He then walks us over to a car that he had rented. At this point I am full of fear, now realizing that a ten-year-old had rented a car all by himself, drove it on the European autobahn system, into the heart of a very busy city, and then parallel parked. There is guilt pumping though my veins. My ex-wife begins to point out the deficiencies in the vehicle that he rented to which I jump to the defense of Gavin. The car, I must say is quite interesting. The whole top shell of the vehicle lifts up like one of those back-to-the-future like cars. Inside are four distinct bucket-like seats. When you close the shell of the car back down upon the seated passengers, you realize that every person has his own individual bubble. Much like the cockpit of a jet fighter.

4. I repeatedly try to dial the number “ambermon” in my cell phone. I hear a clicking sound after each call. The sound reminds me of whales speaking underwater. I call ambermom again and justifiably her mother answers. I ask to speak to Amber, but her mother informs me that amber is sleeping. I dial ambermom an hour later and her mother informs me that amber is working. Amber is gone.

5. When leaving the movie theater, I try to back my car up, but notice an older man and his wife walking behind me. I motion for them to go, but they stand still. Then just as the wife begins to cross behind my car, the man quickly motions me to go, almost as if he wants me to run over his wife. I laugh at this, because I can imagine him walking all over downtown Seattle, trying this stunt over and over again hoping that someone will run over his wife.

6. I reach my hand out, push it up into her shirt, over the top of the bra. Her bra is the fulcrum for my hand slipping down against her breast while pulling up the shirt at the same time. What is the only thing that goes up while going down at the same time? A seesaw?

7. I kiss her. She kisses me. We make love on a couch. Then in the bedroom. Then a bathroom where the pipes go “cling”. She calls me. I call her. We drink wine. We drive to field next to an old chateau. She has cake frosting on her fingertips. We run. We sleep. We eat Pommes Frites with samurai sauce. I don’t ever want this to end. We drink leffe, then the leffe drinks us. We slip. We fall. We get up again. Over and over again. We fight. We scream. I push her. She punches me. I hold her. She cries. We cry. I love her. She flies home. She calls. I call. She flies back. I pick her up in the airport. She is tired. I am tired. Half way home from Paris, at a gas station, I hug her. I hold her. She holds me back. We get back on the road.

8. Read a story about a man with a brain hemorrhage. It changes everything about him. Later on the doctor takes the original section of skull which has been floating around the man’s stomach for the last month and a half, and places it back into his head. Every where the man goes, he has a gut feeling about things.