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
I have had very few dreams in the last fifteen years, at least that I remembered. . until last night when I was visited in a hospital room by The Edge and Adam Clayton. Bono ( A Dali-esque figure of today, perhaps) was no where to be seen. (Typical) The two of them were generally encouraging; joking in their Dublin anarchic humor. As usual , they spoke under the breath, but just to me. There was no one else in the room, As if they appeared out of a mist next to my bedside like video projections shown into a mirror so that their image just hovered in space, in smoke, in my hospital room. Then a shadow of a head passing by a window; this is very fucking scary when there is no one else in the room. End of dream.
Gina writes:
Ann asks me to come into a room. There is a sick boy wheezing, dying. I stood for a moment and then almost approached him, but sat down instead. I heard Ann say, “There’s nothing that can be done.” He was wheezing and breathing with such difficulty. I couldn’t believe there wasn’t anything we could do.
In his hand were some birds. They talked a lot, chirped constantly, and I saw them picking at some white things also in his hand. I watched this boy with such awe, in such pain, I remember Ann kept saying, “It’s almost over…”
But then I saw something happen. The white pieces in his hand suddenly turned into baby birds. They didn’t hatch from little eggs. We watched and noticed the beautiful sounds coming from these new birds. The boy was fascinated and surprised. The white pieces in his hand originally were pieces of onion. Suddenly we noticed that he wasn’t wheezing anymore and he was sitting up in bed, then standing before us. The birds flew up and out of the room. Continue reading
I’m walking around some sort of amusement park or fairground with my parents. They both seem exhausted, subdued, and sad. My mother, usually bright and outgoing, is sullen, barely said a word. I’ve never seen her like this before. I am aggravated, and want more than anything else just to get out of there. My mother makes some reference to my older brother, and then I look down, and realize that she’s pushing a stroller, and in it is my brother, as a 2 year-old. And I know instantly that in this world, for some reason, he has never aged past 2 years. He can’t talk. My parents have been burdened with caring for him for the entirety of his life, and it shows. I try to explain to them why I’m so upset, but all they want to talk about is what I’m doing these days. My father explains to me that they spend so much time at home, caring for him, that what I’m doing with my life is the most important thing they have to think or talk about. I can’t take this, and I leave. I have to talk to someone about this, but I keep on remembering that the first person I would talk to about it is a mute 2 year-old. I try and tell my friends, my brother’s friends, see if they know anything about it, but they just think I’m joking, and tell me that it’s not a very funny thing to joke about. It seems that I’m the only person in the world who thinks that this isn’t perfectly normal. And so, I decide to do everything I can to try and bring him back to normal. It’s some kind of science, there are a lot of microscopes, but I’m not finding anything. I soon realize that I always talk to my brother about anything relating to school, and I’ve been totally aimless in all this. Pretty soon, I run out of time, and they take away all the microscopes and equipment. I couldn’t do anything. People think I’m crazy. My parents are crushed. My brother is still 2. I woke up, feeling that something profoundly horrible had just happened.
I dream of dada 