Slicing Up Eyeballs and Sex Drive

Last night I was driving my motorscooter on some Jersey back roads, coming home from a friend’s house. Just as I was about to pass New Brunswick Road, perpendicular to my right, I remembered that it was a good shortcut home. I made a short arc back to turn onto the road. A car drove by. I thought it was good a cop didn’t see that, though if he did he should have understood and forgiven my move. I came to the next road, which I almost missed, but made. The red lights and sirens began. A uniformed cop appeared at my left. Said he’d seen what I’d done. I felt frustrated and mildly bad-lucked but relented and accepted that I was getting a ticket. The cop began to handcuff me. I had the sense that I was being taken to jail. I protested with a wide-open "what?!" and the dream shifted to another scene entirely. I surfaced awake momentarily to decide that I really did have a motorscooter…

I was at Sarah’s house, a Sarah I went to school with from pre-school through high school, a Sarah I never thought about much but was fascinated that her last name also began with an "S", along with another Sara whose last name began with an "S", all of us in the same grade. I was at her house, down the street from mine. We were simultaneously junior high-, high school-, and current-age. She had slender fingers. She had dark half-curly hair, strange straight mouth and face-shape that reminded me of boogers and grimacing. Her slender fingers held a cigarette. It was my first time hanging out at her house. She and some other girl tried to make me feel comfortable. They took out an electronic poetry game that shone onto a screen in the living room. The game resulted in our words appearing together on the screen. Neither of girls cared much for writing and played only for laughs. Then my words came onto the screen. They were markedly different from those of the other girls. Nobody understood, everybody skirted the moment and moved on.

Then I was on the beach, about to go into the ocean with five or six people. The ocean was crowded. We all went into the water and immediately began sinking. I decided we should get out. I called for them: xxx, yyy, zzz, and Julie (a girl from high school), please get Tommy! Tommy was very small, 6 or 7 years old, and floundering out there among the saltwater, people, and floatie devices. We all connected by our hands and walked to shore.

It occurred to me when I woke up that nobody but us was sinking.

I’ve heard that water dreams are really about sex. What does it mean that I was having a sex-rooted dream about people I went to high school with and a little boy named Tommy—and that I saved us all from sinking in the water?

Today I am enjoying the Pixies' disc one of Death to the Pixies. Call me Caribou.