Wednesday, July 30, 2003

Innocent flashback

I’m in the Air Force, flying in a bomber. Kyle is in charge. We’re going through a mid-air refueling. There is a hatch on the inside of the plane on the wall towards the front. The other side of this hatch is where the hose connects outside the plane. Kyle is telling us what to do. Another guy is standing at the ready by the hatch with his hand on a valve. Kyle tells us to be ready because he must turn the value as soon as the refueling is finished. I stand next to the guy, listening to the fuel rush through the hose. I press my ear to the side of the plane listening for the telltale sound of the pump shutting off. I feel under intense pressure, we must do everything exactly right. The fueling stops and the guy flips the value. I go to the front of the plane and give the tanker plane a thumbs up. But the tanker is already dropping behind and banks away. They don’t see my gesture of thanks. The crew gathers in conversation at the center of the plane. Some one asks if I mind having to kill people. I do, but not if it is the enemy and not innocents. Some one says, I don’t care if it’s (So and so?) we’ve got a job to do. Kyle says to me, “I don’t care if we run into Eddie Guerra down there, I don’t want to see any shit like time. I realize he is referring to a fight I got into standing up to a racist. Then I think that that fight took place in another dream, as if this one contained a flashback.

Tuesday, July 29, 2003

Pause

Jimmy Buffett is playing at a small, outdoor venue. There is a raised stage surrounded by wooden picnic tables. The area is surrounded by wooden plank building on one side and a chain link fence on the other side. Beyond the fence is a gravel lot. I’m there with Dave and someone else. I’m excited because the crowd is so small that we’ll probably get to meet Buffett after the show. I get up and head to the bathroom. I sit in a stall. And then I am talking to an old man. Dave calls my cell, it rings once and then hangs up. I realize I left our table 25 minutes ago.

Wednesday, July 23, 2003

Famous

Blair is showing me a photo album of bunch of pictures of him with different celebrities. I don’t care, since he doesn’t actually know any of them. We are standing in the lobby of some convention center. I assume it is some kind of fan event. Another PR event or autograph sale that Blair always goes to. Then Tommy Lee from Motley Crue walks up and starts talking to him. Tommy Lee ends up giving me a back stage pass for later.

I am in a race like The Amazing Race TV show. But I am by myself against other people. I’m driving recklessly, trying to pass and stay ahead of other teams. I’m barreling down a highway and traffic gets backed up. I pass a team stuck in traffic by driving on the side of the road. I scan the cars as I fly pass them, looking for other teams. I look back ahead of me and see a semi truck parked on the side of the road. I can’t merge back into the slow traffic, so I run off into the grass to pass the truck. The car spins wildly out of control. I regain control and head back to the road. Traffic is back to a rapid pace and I look for a space to merge in. I’m at a stand still on the side of the road and try to pull out in front of a car but it is moving to fast. I wait a moment then pull out into the next break in traffic. The car seems to move in slow motion as I try to speed up. Two guys jump out of a pick up truck behind me. I cut them off and they run up to my car to kick my ass. They yell and run and are actually keeping up to the car. Why won’t it move, damn it? Finally I speed up and leave them behind. Suddenly I’m in the next stage of the race, running down a mountain trail. I can see a park below and other people on the trail. But I don’t know where my competition is. I slide down a steep but small incline as a short cut to bypass a switchback in the trail. I hit the ground running towards the park.

I'll get you

Matt Damon chasing someone. Then I take the place of Matt Damon in the chase.

Monday, July 21, 2003

We're all in this together

Living in a large apartment complex with buildings 5 or 6 stories down. A girl sees me walking by and runs up to me. She knows me and I recognize here, but don’t remember her. She takes me into an apartment a few buildings down. Inside I meet a bunch of people. I recognize all or most of them from Disney, but do not know their names. A group of 4 or 5 whites girls and guys are standing around or sitting at a table. I talk to a black guy sitting on the arm of an armchair. There is a video game in the living room and another one in the kitchen. Also in the kitchen is a group of black guys I don’t know.

I board a wooden ship. I meet the captain who is wearing a giant foam animal costume like the host of a children’s show. There are several young adults around, they must be the crew. It feels like a TV show, but it is a real boat about to set sail.
The Captain and I are walking through a parking garage and 2 guys in an old car jump out and attack him. I hide behind a dumpster. Then a gang of kids starts searching for me. Two black girls find me and the gang surrounds me. The girls threaten me, and then start to beat me up.

Walking with a cop or detective through a dark night on a cement path. He is wearing normal clothes. We are walking through a park or open area leading to the waterfront. We are being followed or watched. A helicopter above seems to be tracking us, but we cross in front of a series of spotlights in the ground pointed at flagpoles. The glare of the lights hides us from the copter. We go down to a dock to board a boat to cross the bay to the big city on the other side. The boat acts as a shuttle service for a fancy hotel in the city. There is a line of people boarding. A porter stops the line because the boat is full. We are stuck waiting on the dock with a few rich people in formal dress.

I am sitting on the toilet in a fancy bathroom of the hotel. A headline of a newspaper jumps out at me. I leave the stall and sit on a sofa and begin tearing it out. My pants are hanging unfastened at my thighs. My shirt tale hangs down over my belt. The foyer of the bathroom looks more like an ornate drawing room. There is an oriental carpet, dark wood tables and plush sofas. An older woman sits in a chair nest to me. She should not be in the men’s room, but now I can’t get up. I go ahead and start tearing out the headline. A man standing behind a sofa across the group of furniture says that I can’t do that. I reply, “And yet I am.”

Thursday, July 17, 2003

Dodge

Brooke and I are in a car chase. I am driving a Jeep or truck and we are being chased by men in cars. It starts among city streets, then we race through the woods. We end up driving through a barren landscape. The earth is scorched. Two people in raged clothes have just put a mid-sized branch and a rock in the road, as if building a roadblock. We easily pass by or over it. And I turn off the road onto a side path. We get out of the car as ragged man carrying a bundle of shaved, thick branches crosses our path.

Running through an orate house, trying to escape. Someone is with me but I don’t know who. It may still be Brooke. We enter a room and at the far end is a door to the outside. But we have to defeat an oriental woman to make our escape. She does a series of leaps around the room (ala Crouching Tiger, Hidden Tiger) and I see another woman outside about to come into the room and join the fight. I slam the door on her. Then we dart out. We start running down the street and I see a blonde girl sandwiched between guys behind us. I yell for her to follow us. The thugs on either side of her fall as if shot and she runs after us. We run straight towards two guys in suits. Their shirts, tie and lapels all match in a crazy floral or paisley pattern. One guy in orange and the other in a different color. I say, “I like your suits” as they shoot us. They shoot one of us in the shoulder and the other in the leg, but there are no bullets. Instead we are hit with some kind of tiny tranquilizer dart.

Tuesday, July 15, 2003

Dumpster diving

I was grabbing Nike sneakers out of a dumpster. I want to save and sell them, but I can’t carry them all.

Monday, July 7, 2003

Back to school

Trying to pay for parking at a machine in the lot. It looks like the kind where each space has a numbered slot and you just fold up your bills and stuff them in. But this one has a coin slot and meter for each space. A bunch of change, mostly quarters falls out and I start picking them up. I have one handful of coins and keep picking more up as a few other people gather around waiting to pay for their space. I realize they are waiting on me and I still have to pay. I don’t know the number of my space. So I turn to go and a girl accuses me of not paying. I say I have to find my number and cross the lot towards my car. It is in the first space in the lot, but it is labeled #2. Number 1 is the grass next it and is labeled #1 Emergency Parking only.

I walk into an English class and see the other students working. One is discussing a story with someone next to him. I realize I didn’t do the reading for homework or bring the book to class. I throw my books onto a desk and yell, “Did we have homework? I’ve got to get my shit together.” Then I notice the professor sitting at his desk in the middle of the room. He has long gray hair and a weird face.

There is a party being thrown in the office of the Dean of Harvard. Two other guys are calling people up through the window. We are the ones having the party. Three girls walk in and I have an urge to surprise a particular one of them by grabbing and kissing her right as she walks in the door. Instead I end up talking to all three of them on a couch at the back of the room. I am trying to pick at least two of them up. Later I am in a crowded swimming pool and see the three girls. Everyone is just hanging out.