[Dream Project]
[Performance Art] [Kugel] [Contact me] [Home]

9/3/04
I was in a busy high school.

I had lost my horse and a cell phone. I went to lost and found and went up to one desk and the women were ignoring me and then being very rude. They told me I was at the wrong desk and to go to another. This other desk directed me to a woman. I went to that woman's class and she was teaching.

She had some 15 yo students and also a 3 year old. The three year old was misbehaving- the teacher was spanking the child in a way that I felt was harsh like she was beating the kid. Then I glanced out the window and noticed in another class they had a statue of the Virgin Mary with child. The teacher whose class I was visiting began teaching the Christian story of Christmas. The whole time I am thinking that this was illegal and how could they do that.

Then the class ended and I was able to speak to the teacher about my horse and cell phone. We walked out into the parking lot talking and then she glanced to her left and began to run...like she was running for her life. There was a parking lot ...it was huge like some Mall parking lot.

I noticed a white large truck driving towards us. The teacher ran into and area where there were small buildings. I sensed the danger from the people in that truck and after making eye contact I was in trouble too. They were focused on her,....so in the meantime I made my way to my small truck that was also parked in the lot. I had a friend with me---an old co-worker.

As we drove through the big lot I saw a neighbor and he was wearing a suit - we called out to him "Hey looking sharp" and then joked about it.

All the time the traffic started to get worse and all the sudden we were behind a van that contained the bad guys. One bad guy jumped out of the van and walked around his truck and shot three people with a machine gun. They tried talking to him but he would have none of it. I backed the truck the hell out of there but traffic was bad so I then had to go on foot. I had a shopping cart and made my way out of the parking lot into another area where there were lots and businesses but also driveways and alleys. I looked back and the bad bad guy - who at this time looked like Nick Nolte saw me and began pursuit on foot. (note: The bad guy looked like a homeless guy when he came out of the truck and shot people).

I managed to roll my cart around and ran into some kid. I gave him everything I had and said "just take it." Then I ran around a corner and found a hidden alcove- I started to change my clothes to throw the bad guy off. As I was changing I could hear footsteps....I think they actually passed me but I had the feeling that it was a close call or maybe I was going to get caught.

5/20/04
I was in the house I grew up in, and there was a man there who was not my father but who in dream logic, was. He had intent to cut me and make me bleed. I strategized by first hiding all the knives in the house, then plotted how to kill him.

9/27/03
I was working for a large hotel and my boss showed up out of the blue which seemd very strange to me for some reason and rather ominous. A large shipment had come into the hotel and we, the workers, were told to move it into the kitchen, no questions asked. As we stockpiled the packages, several of us noticed that it was an unusually large quantity of industrial strength cleaning and chopping supplies such as plastic sheeting, mop buckets, butcher knives and large cheese graters.

We realized that these were intended for a massacre in which we were to be the massacrees.... So, we began plotting how to turn the tables and either escape our doom or butcher them first. Then I was asked to examine a dead body for an autopsy.

The woman was middle aged, large and had been bludgeoned to death. No one wanted to look at her, so I volunteered. My mom was with me and we began examining her body looking for clues and notating what we saw. She had been molested and raped since childhood, one of the doctors said.

3/22/03
Hippy terrorists invade my normally quiet small town Millbrook, New Jersey. They force all of us at gunpoint out of our houses, including our pets corralling us onto yellow school buses. Upon entering the bus each man, woman, and child receives an eighties black or navy heat-set sparkle t-shirt with the words Disco Sucks written across a rubber ducks body or "Give A Hoot, Don't Pollute" underneath a suspended wings-splayed cartoon owl. Even the pets by obligation wear such slogans as Yuppie Puppy or Corporate Kitty. Two small dogs wag their tails so rapidly they almost disappear except for their doggy t-shirts. I avoid abduction when I learn that we will be taken to a beach or park and coerced to take psychedelic mushrooms or psilocybin mixed with a previously untested drug. The hippies fear me when I say,?You do not want to encounter me on drugs!"
Besides, I protest, how many of you were at the peace rally wearing camouflage?

And another thing, those guns have no bullets! They see I am a revolutionary and leave without me. As the buses drive away I spot a tie-dyed sheet hanging on the back of one that reads Soldiers For Peace. The rest of the town pretends they are being kidnapped.
Now that everyone is gone I feel that sense of aloneness that one gets while taking a long walk in the woods or Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Bored and lonely I decide to break in to my neighbor's garages to examine all of their objects and make up stories about their history.

The Mr. and Mrs. Bamwolle's house has a huge porch, Victorian style, with etched glass mirrored skeleton keys hanging on fishing wire. I look down and I am wearing a frilly white dress, like a ballerina. In their garage are display cases of jewelry: a ruby tiara, an aquamarine ring and a black Tahitian pearl necklace alongside costume versions. The ruby tiara has a price tag that reads 10,000 dollars. On a shelf rests a comic book called Dark Boy. Next to that, a clear glass baton that functions as an ice-cream scoop two-ended. I fancy the baton and take it with me. Outside it begins to snow, even though it is summer. I catch the snowflakes and eat them out of the glass scoops.
Mr. Vollmana's house is very seventies with carpeting all over the walls and a celebrity miniature golf coarse set up in the living room. In another room three guys I know from the organic food co-op are partying, a song plays repeating the lyrics,?Here is a ghost, a ghost is a lie" in a Depeche Mode sounding way. I begin to roll around on the carpeted floor, a sort of uncontrollable yogic dance. I am on my hands facing the ceiling and cannot stop my legs from kicking up until I decide to perform a shoulder stand against a black Formica desk.
When I move my legs away the name Rosemary appears taped up in individually moving yet attached pastel colored glittery happy birthday letters.
One of the guys, I think his name is Egon, passes out on the couch and to wake him up his friend Gustov squirts lighter fluid on his torso and lights it. The couch guy immediately wakes up and begins to blow out the flames.

Mr. Amallaha's house is a garage converted into an apartment. A garage with glass doors. A robust, red-cheeked guy asks me if I think he can get a thousand dollars a month to rent it. Probably, I reply. Alice's house is surrounded by power lines and power stations.

So many wires in the backyard that they appear to form a grapevine trellis. There are group of paranoid people in the house and they do not trust one another because one of them is a serial killer who kills his or her victims by cutting a hole in their throats and shoving a hot dog in the hole. Cooked or raw? I inquire.

10/10/02
I dreamed my cell phone battery was dead. I was very worried because I was waiting for an important call from my nieces and nephews and I missed them. I was standing under a high red brick archway on a hard dirt road, In the center of the arch, about thirty feet up, was an exterior art-deco light fixture and junction box, which were falling apart.

Before I could return to the train (?) and plug my phone in there, my friend Phil grabbed the phone out of my hand and said' "THIS is how you charge a phone", and leapt into the air heroically in his tight jeans, arcing thirty feet upwards to the busted light.

The light zapped the phone with thousands of volts of electricity, sending blue lightning arcing back to the ground, lighting up Phil from the inside, splitting the air with his screams and zapping sounds, and blasting and burning away at my phone's faceplate till it was a brittle, transparent yellow crust. He then zipped back to the ground and handed me the charred hot yellow phone. It had a full charge.

3/25/00
i was a mexican revolutionary. and a man. i had killed many people in this crazy subway spree, but i only killed the white people and only because i was trying to escape. Then i was out on the street because i miraculously escaped. i disguised myself as a girl, but was really pushing it because i ended up sharing a bed with this girl regularly (as sisters) and she brought one of the cops who was chasing me home one night. It was also hard to hide my penis from her. But not as hard as you'd think.

i ended up getting changed into a girl and moving to another country. At the end of the dream i visited my family and ended up getting caught in a ceremony where they showed films about what "i" did; not knowing that i was in the audience disguised as a girl.

We seemed to be like slaves, having to obey orders to...tear up boxes and stack up flattened garbage cans, and it seemed that there was still a lot of dramatic gunfire and flattening still going on. i had left the ceremony with permission but did it by having to climb over office cubicles stacked up eighteen feet high, and barely escaping a fire that the white people were caught in because they couldn't stop arguing about whose fault it was that i had stepped on the typing table.

At the end i was somehow still trapped there and i was having to edit a piece of film for a teacher in the aftermath of whatever skirmish had just broken out.

6/19/99
i'm living in a futuristic society; and my job is to report on everybody to the authorities. this particular night, i had a lot of personal opinions that get in the way of conducting my professional duty.

basically people bribe me to like them so that i will give them a favorable report. i don't know who the reports are for; or why anyone cares.

scene change and i'm in a house i've agreed to housesit and i've neglected everything i was supposed to do. a week has passed and it's finally sunk in that there are plants everywhere that havent' been watered. i go around trying to take care of everything but it's too late.

aliens
beauty
betrayal
celebrities
children
death
dwellings
food
illness
jealousy
loss
love
paralyzed
performance
shopping
snakes
superpowers
travel
violence
weather
work