Friday, May 26, 2006

nighttime hopscotch

Celebratory dreams persisted both before and during my trip to Illinois to visit family and mythological actors.

The night before I boarded the tiny plane I dreamed I was in Iraq. There was sand and buildings made out of sand, adobe-like. With family members I clambered around, up and down stairs, trying to sneak out of the nearly emptied building. —And then people dressed in robes and turbans entered. They were after us and we were scared, but the house was not fit for running. Finally we met them. They removed their turbans and false facial hair. Alas, they were of us, having knocked out and dressed as the enemy to sneak us away. We had won.

The night after the tiny plane landed and sent me on my way I dreamed I was hanging out with Jude Law. We were frolicking about in a slew of big cities both American and European. I held off for a while, but finally I told him one of my best friends looks like him. At first I thought it would be silly to share it with him, but I thought I probably wouldn’t be hanging out with Jude Law again any time soon. (One of my best friends really does look like him. But I knew I was hanging out with Jude Law and not my friend.)

CUT!—

Same night, after a brief interlude, I was in board-game-like territory but on true landscape sectioned off into separate themes and purposes. I began in the center in a concrete forum pronged with spare broken pillars. My aunt was nearby. She had told me about the library. Ghosts from the Civil War appeared and disappeared from there, checkerboard floor. (I as the dreamer knew I had been there before in another dream, which, as the dreamer, I did not consider a different dream but rather a different trip.) My aunt had also mentioned the land south of the library. Immediately there was thick dirty forest and broken-down carnival gear—tents, wheels, rings, shoes. All richly gritty. Irish carnies puddled there, midgets with dirty faces and pudge-noses, worn brown hats. That’s where I wanted to go. I just had to get through the library first. I didn’t mind the library, but I’d been there and the idea of dodging angry ghosts again bored me.

Shortly afterward I woke in the dark, scared there were ghosts in the basement with me. The one with the dark mustache, pale skin and beady eyes was angry and relentless.

4 Comments:

Blogger {illyria} said...

watch out for the moustached ones. they have hidden agenda.

9:24 PM  
Blogger Sara said...

wise words. i hope you're well, transience. i've been very busy and away.

2:06 PM  
Blogger glomgold said...

Should I be in a situation where I must converse with famous folk I'll discuss the topic of socks. Or whatever mundane subject matter I'm thinking of at the time. "Celebs are people too" right? Why should they be spared from my onslaught of useless drivel?

12:47 PM  
Blogger Sara said...

I'd like to hear you give a rundown of good and bad cereals to a celebrity. What do the stars eat for breakfast? (If it isn't cereal I don't want to hear about it.)

4:00 PM  

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