Filed under: Dreams | Tags: cops, despair, gender, pain, sex, sex toys, sexuality, sperm whale, stream of consciousness, violence
the friction between my yin and yang do not give off sparks the grindings are utterly corrupt the putrid wastes of veal remains for I am a young soul full of worms that give the robins red beasts in the spring like nipple clamps squeezing them out 7 hearts 2 brians hermaphridite lemmings lust for death in the hands of the boy wonder’s leotards the birds grab his feet and pull his legs off one pant at a time we are born through the composts of time out of the spandex and in to the fire in times like these you have bend over and pick your self up by the boot straps index fingers hooked in leather stumbling forward prime shank to be fucked or kicked the jocker’s dildo is shaped like a boot, and tastes like your initative. Continue reading
Ben writes:
1. I’m producing the next BERZERK!!! show, but instead of going to the theatre for the ONE DAY of rehearsals, i decide to go to a hotel with my girlfriend, watch a Jim Henson film marathon, eat dry cereal out of the box. I finally get to the theatre 5 minutes before the show is supposed to start. I then have to run a long list of unknown light and sound cues on incomprehensibly newfangled equipement (a sound system merged with credit card machine). I fuck it all up and everyone, cast, crew, audience, walks out on the show hating me. The newpapers are uncharacteristically thorough in their reviews (as in they acknowledge our existence at all) i am miserable. Continue reading
Perennial dreamer Gina writes:
On a trip with Eric, my brother and Eric’s brother. Very involved series of dilemmas Eric and I encounter. During our trip I am getting pains all over my body. I tell Eric that I feel like seeing a doctor, so we go to a hospital. Here they tell me that I have acquired a gross amount of male hormones and will most likely begin changing ‘painlessly’ into a man.
Back and forth. Scenes where Eric knows and is helpful, scenes where he doesn’t and he’s aloof. Scenes of me where I show my anger: In a church in Italy, everyone in the church was talking and it pissed me off so much I went around telling them to be quiet in a whisper, yet with a stern manner. The people listened as I told them they should be honored to be in such a place, that there even exists such places where people come to experience the silence of G_d. Continue reading
Gina sends us from her dream journal:
February 17, 1984
“I am in a film, on a stage set watching from the wings. There is a friend whose part it is to play a man. She is courageous, brilliant. The ensemble is experimental. The set is a deep dark color, deep blues, black and browns, muted, misty with cobwebs. An old car (maybe an old 50’s Ford), rusty and worn, stuck in the dirt and weather for a long time, faces front toward the audience. It is the feature prop on the set.
My friend had an idea. She went onto the set as a man and transformed into a male. (This transformative distinction is important. I believe she had convinced us all that she was male).
The passenger door to the car is open. The camera follows her and shoots her through the car window from a distance as she approaches. She moves over toward the door. She stops at the door. Slowly, she begins to undress from the top behind the open car door window, revealing herself as a woman. It was sensual and quiet.”
Rachel writes:
During the election, I dreamed that I was in a huge convention hall and around me were all the most important women in my life – friends, family, crushes, celebrities – everyone was there. As we were all milling around meeting one another, the lights went dim and on all four walls of the convention center, someone started projecting these Sarah Palin attack ads. But they were about really dumb stuff, like “Sarah Palin has stupid hair, Sarah Palin wears loser shoes, Sarah Palin smells bad, Sarah Palin is a total bitch.” When suddenly, out of nowhere, in a pantsuit so sparkly only she could wear it, comes Hillary Clinton. And she runs through the hall, trying to block the projectors with her body, shouting “Attack her policies! Attack her policies!”
Then I woke up.
I dream of dada 