DREAMY

(SRO Note: When I first started SRO, I wrote a piece about one of my dreams and a reader left a comment about how banal and trite “dream stories” are when retold. Since then however, I have learned what I write is not about You. Forewarned is forearmed, so if you hate dream stories stop reading now.)

Lately I have been having more and more vivid and memorable dreams. I’ve even had a spate where I wake up to pee and get back in bed and continue the same dream. Really good stuff.

Last night’s dream found me in Antarctica or somewhere unnaturally snowy. I have no idea why I was there. In Waking Life you can retrace your steps and hopefully discover a motive but in Dream Life you’re robbed of that option. There you are in Antarctica and you better get with The Plan fast or get left behind. It’s a pretty brill concept because really, what does all the background stuff matter? You do what you do and react the way you react and who cares about Your Baggage? I’m pretty sure this whole Antarctica section was inspired by the opening scene in Insomnia which I watched for the first time Saturday night. Frankly I thought the movie went downhill after the shot of the craggy ice and should have been renamed Ambien. However the impression had been made and my dream sequence involved crags.

Oh, and twinkly lights imbedded in the ground from Aliens who were attempting to destroy the world. Too bad they weren’t in Insomnia. Me and all these other people slid down the snow and ice and over the twinkly lights and there was a whole subplot about wicker baskets which a Dream Somebody thought would make a really fabulous sled. Unfortunately the sled gets crushed by a meteor and here is where I wake up to pee.

Upon my return it seems I have stopped sliding and ended up in Brazil where I have become an Underground Leader of the People Who Slid All the Way. I’ve moved into empty apartments of People Who Were Crushed by Ice and turn them into secret meeting and gathering spots for us PWSAW’s. I spend a good portion of the dream at this point rearranging furniture. Welcome to Gay Dreaming.

One apartment had some really fab older pieces but the arrangement broke up the room and didn’t allow for Secretive Conversation Groups. Naturally I pushed the larger pieces against the wall with the assistance of some of my Underground Minions who’ve survived the end of the world to find themselves redecorating dead people’s apartments at the whims of a pushy queen. To be fair, at the end of every meeting I would ask if anyone needed anything. Money? Food? No? Are you sure? Imagine Fanny Brice as Harriet Tubman and that was me.

Eventually one apartment for meetings and living becomes too small. I convert another apartment into a tasteful yet quiet gathering spot where they also hold therapy sessions for children. It always comes down to what we can do for The Children, even in Queer Dreams. Their therapist is a middle-aged woman with long gray hair who sits on the floor and tries to fool them into talking by acting like one of them. She looks alot like Bella Abzug and keeps insisting the children need their Space and even in my dream I think, “Man, these kids are going to be fucked up.” The adults all move to the smaller, darker room next store where you can smoke but there aren’t enough seats so everyone stands around looking awkward.
“So, you survived huh?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah. What about Bill? Did he make it?”
“I dunno. I think so.”
I walk in and they all look to me, awaiting my commands and wondering what we’ll do next.

This is obviously when I awoke. Too much commitment and responsibility, especially for a dream.

3:35:33 PM    sro home /