every day driving past the same part of pleasant street, i remember a dream.. running down a hill in a developing city. i was running away from something. i can't remember if i wrote this down or not.

went to tammany last night, i remembered it from a dream. especially standing by the pool table looking out towards the bar.

last night, dreamt that i was having a good dream. then the phone rang and i woke up. then more stuff happened. i'm not sure in which order these things happened, that is, i don't know what happened as part of the dream within the dream, and what happened while i was awake in the dream. does that make sense?

it was a post-apocalyptic terrain, i was in chicago, trying to find people who could help me. i found some punk kids who had a shelter set up. i felt out of place. they wanted me to fill out a workbook. i had seen it before. i didn't want to do a workbook. my cell phone was dying. i walked over some rubble, to a ghetto. i tried to ask an African-looking woman where i was, how i got there, how to get back to where i belonged. she didn't know. i asked for directions to my hostel. "corner of wabash and congress.. near millennium park.." i realized she was from the ghetto, she wouldn't know what millennium park was. i walked through a rusty fence. i had a laser in my hand with which i could move things. i shot a bird that was going to fly at me. i wanted a more powerful one, dug in my pocket for a broken laser pointer from the dollar store, and found watch batteries for it.

headed back to the punks' lair, they tried to get me to do the workbook again. i wanted to play volleyball. they were setting up a weird net.

the phone call: i woke up from a dream. sheila from work called me. it was saturday morning. she was yelling about how i should have left my computer on because it takes her too long to turn computers on so she can sign in. i was really mean and told her to quit being lazy and do her fucking job and she was stupid and i hung up on her.

i walked into the kitchen, my mom was mad that i was swearing. i felt bad about being so mean.

either this was the end of the dream, or this is when i found myself in the rubble of chicago

Labels: dreams