10:12 am | 09 September 2003 | in dreams

Selected Dreams I Have Had: An Ongoing List.

-Recurring dream in which eight-year-old me is being chased by a mob of kids across the playground. I pull a yellow gingham handkerchief from my pocket; it gives me the ability to fly. Naturally, i fly to New York City, where i peer in the window of the Empire State Building. The elevator operator there, who is in a red bellhop-style uniform, is named Henry and once owned a basset hound who died, but whose shadow still follows Henry's shadow across the walls. I wake up.

-This one.

-2001 dream in which Steve Martin and I must construct a go-kart out of empty two-litre soda bottles in order to escape angry punk rockers who are chasing us. Steve is wearing a funny helmet. We escape the punks and go into a cave; the go-kart becomes locked onto a mine-cart-style track and pulls us forward. At this point, the cave is much like a ride at an amusement park; on a stone wall ahead, a hologram of Jesus appears. He explains that there are more than six hundred different Heavens and we will be sent to the one best suited to our personalities. I end up being dropped off at a Heaven that looks like a decayed Victorian masquerade ball, d�cor and guests dressed entirely in purply-grey mourning-looking tones, and everything very dusty and sort of rotted-out. I wake up.

-I am standing in front of a car that has just exploded (it is behind me) in Chicago, in winter; the sodium lights are on and are making the snow look orange, but the road and the railroad crossing behind me are wet and black. I am wearing a black sequinned cocktail dress and holding a man's fedora in my hands. A businessman runs out of an alley in front of me, carrying a briefcase and panting hard as though he heard the explosion and came running. He stops and stares at me. I shake my head at him: No. I wake up.

-I am at a Peter Murphy concert and, upon hearing "Marlene Dietrich's Favourite Dream," begin levitating. The air is full of glittery confetti and the crowds rise to their feet and point. I wake up.

-Elvis (young Elvis) and I are hiding in a barn, trying to plan a way to set the other slaves free (we were apparently slaves too, but escaped and have now returned to free the others). The barn is set on fire and burns around us. Elvis keeps running his hands through my hair and saying, "God, I love you, baby. I just love you so much." We are on fire. I wake up.

-As so:

stormyclaude: i dreamt you were standing in the livingroom while i played with guinn. it was night and you were looking out the window, wearing a white dress shirt and holding your bag in front of you with both hands. i looked up and you turned and looked at me and there were tears in your eyes and i woke up so scared at 8:17pm.
delicti: wow...at that time the plane was landing and it landed like a bag of shit...everyone went --whooooah together. that was the most scared i've been in a long time.

-This one.

-Dream in which myself and my old friend Tim had thought the Underworld concert was in October but it was really in September. I find this out and have to go look for Tim in this huge, unreal city. The fucked-up thing is that the city is where, for about two years, ALL of my dreams took place--literally. As I am looking for Tim i pass the skyscraper-sized sanatorium/asylum where I was trapped in a previous dream; i look up and can see my old dream-self pressed against a window on a high floor, in a mint-green room, and i remember how (in the earlier dream) that self has only a few moments before she is found, and how scary that was. I keep driving, looking for Tim. I pass an abandoned football field where I'd had another dream. And so forth. The city is futuristic, dim, and weird, like Jeunet and Tim Burton are designing a city for Cirque du Soleil or something. I don't think I ever find Tim. I wake up.

I will probably keep adding to this list; i'll put a link to it or something. I am a dead-end street to the Carnival of Dreams. clm.