Fragments

Hello All,

I'm going to recount three dreams, but they're just fragments of larger dreams. I'm hoping to discover dreams from my past, while reading my diaries. So far, a lot of the dreams I've come across, I either don't remember well enough to retell, or simply aren't interesting enough to mention. Here is the first fragment, I had this dream the night before last.

The dream started in the shopping area of a large airport terminal. As I waited for my airplane, I went to an outside area to pass time. The terrain was hilly and forested by deciduous trees, like a forest in New England. However, a tropical sea rested at the foot of the forest. Something inside me warned me to go back inside the terminal. I realized many of the people I might meet would be unfriendly to me.

I went back inside the terminal, but before my plane left I wanted to go outside one more time. I walked quickly because I knew to avoid anyone I might encounter. I began to fall into an unusually quick stride, and the more I kept this pace the quicker my speed became. By the time I came outside, my stride looked natural, but all in a certain beat that gave me a speed faster than a galloping horse.

I passed a rocky peninsula covered in ferns and maple trees. I saw a family of primal looking country-folk huddled around a fire. Every flicker of my intuition told me to keep up the pace in order to not even be seen by these people. I came to a small bay where I seemed to be alone. The ocean water was so clear I could even see the features of its floor. A certain type of fish swam around, not in a school, but individually.

These fish were thick and round like goldfish, but had distinct octagonal scales, all iridescent. Most of the scales were a greenish-blue, but each fish had a different pattern of gold scales spraying across their bodies. The fish varied in size much to the scale of an oink of pigs. I soon noticed another family of rednecks killing these fish and dragging them up the grassy banks to their camp fires, and I quickly rushed back to the terminal.

The next dream fragment occurred last night. I can imagine it's a dream most people have had at some point in time. I accidentally came to work in my pajamas, and had clocked-out, but couldn't find the exit closest to where I parked my car. I had to walk all around the outside of the building, hoping no one would notice my bare feet and night-clothes. The next dream I remember from last night was also kind of typical, but with an unusual element to it.

I was about 5 or 6 years old in the dream, and had a crush on the boy who delivered newspapers. My family moved to the other side of town, but I discovered we still lived in his delivery route. Oddly enough, as I thought about how happy I was I'd still see the delivery boy, I watched all types of cloth coming out of mechanical looms. I carefully examined the different textures and colors of cloth, while walking down a long row of these mechanical looms.

Those are the dreams I have to tell. I already feel a bit of dread concerning my day because I can feel sloth creep about me. I hate how often I want to do something, but don't feel like doing anything, and can't seem to make myself settle to doing anything, so I spend my day pacing back and forth from station to station in my room (computer station, kitchen station, drawing station, reading station, pet-kitty station). Hopefully, things will iron-out and I'll add some productivity to my day.

Thank you for reading,

Marc

Too-Drunk Dream, Watercolor Dream

Hello All,

Well, it's another day, hence the morning view out my window. I've started re-reading my diaries. I've kept diaries in a here-and-there way since I was 11, and thought it might help me analyze myself to re-read them all. When I finished reading one last night (a diary from about 8 years ago, consisting mostly of dreams), the last page had the date at the time and a little sketch of myself, and then it said, "How old are you now, old man?" I put yesterday's date in it, and did a current sketch of myself.

Last night I had a dream my whole extended family (Italian-side) had gathered at my grandmother's house in Middletown, NY. I remember going on about the day as usual, centered around the kitchen. Later in the day, my Aunt Janet told me everyone was going to see the play "Love! Valour! Compassion!" because it was being shown just down the street. I felt glad my family was open-minded enough to see a homo-centric play, but at the same time disappointed they didn't chose something more progressive. "Love, Valour! Compassion!" is not without its merits, but it reflects a different generation and experience of sexual minorities, from what I've experienced first hand in my own life. It seems a bit dated today, and almost like a period piece (like, The Boys in the Band).

Unfortunately, I hadn't foreseen going anywhere, and had decided to drink some, or perhaps a bit too much, anisette. I realized I needed to get dressed in something more appropriate, and take a nap. The next moment in the dream I was in a deep sleep in my grandmother's bed. I remember waking up in a start because I hadn't expected to sleep so hard. When I woke up, I realized I had plenty of time, but I also realized in my drunkenness I had thrown a bunch of clothes around the room while looking for something to wear, and thus needed to tidy my grandmother's room before we left. I also noticed I had packed odd things with me, like a laminated picture I drew in the 8th grade, along with some other finished pictures, and a music book stand. I could tell I was still a bit drunk and very tired, so I went back to sleep.

At this point in the dream, I was very frustrated at how hard I was sleeping. I really felt I needed to get ready for the play. I woke up and went out into the kitchen where my parents and uncles were telling me to go outside because the animal trainers for the play were outside exercising their animals. No, I have no idea why trained animals were needed for "Love! Valour! Compassion!" as there are no animals other than humans in the play. I saw a man in a top hat letting a chipmunk eat a nut by the roots of a tree. The chipmunk dutifully returned to its trainer, who gave a quick whistle. In the vacant lot next door, I saw dancing horses. The horses wore tiaras and played in a make-shift mist shower. An elephant trainer approached me and told me to let his elephant pick me up with its trunk. The elephant picked me up and started rushing all over the lawn. I suppose it was supposed to be fun, but it was a bit scary.

I returned to my grandmother's room to change clothes and try to tidy-up, but I grew very tired again. I went back to sleep, and remember being very frustrated at how deep my sleep was, and feared I wouldn't awake in time. I took the precaution to tell my Mother to make sure and wake me up. That's where that dream ended. The other dream I remember was quite simple, but wasn't particularly shorter than other dreams.

The dream began with me picking up one of my many diaries made of handmade paper, which is very good for water-coloring. The dream just consisted of me carefully moving the pigment across the page to make one consistent wall of color on the page. I remember carefully transferring areas of heavier pigment to areas of lighter pigment, while trying to hurry before everything dried too much. That's all I remember from last night.

My new medication makes me very tired and a little nauseous (side-effects I hope will go away soon). So it's either because of that, or because of my heightened emotional distress that I ended up sleeping ten hours last night. What a waste of time! I certainly hope I can make up for my shortened morning today. I have to exercise, work on my resume, do more diary reading, work on the picture I'm going to sell, and work on another dream sketch I'm doing. I need to cook and clean, I should go visit a friend. There's a lot I could do today, but somehow I feel I'm going to need to sleep again before it's evening.

Thank you for reading,

Marc

Despair

Hello All,

I've had a very bad day, and feel very alone. It's one of those rare days I wish I had someone to hug me (I'm not a touchy-feely person). I feel hopeless and pathetic. I decided it might help divert me for a little while, if I tried to recount a dream from about 7 and a half years ago, as I wish I could take myself out of my life and start a new one.

I once had dream I was playing in the forest (as I often did when I was younger), and came upon a ruined house. The house still had a roof, but this cabin was so old and overgrown by the forest that a tree next to it had grown to enormous stature, died and fell over. The cavern formed by the up-heaved roots made a hill the cabin now sat on. As I approached the cabin I saw a very old man, who looked a little like Louis Armstrong, in a rocking chair. He was very nice to me, so I made it a regular habit to visit him. He said his house was all he needed

I often wondered how old the house might be because there was no longer any obvious road or driveway near it. As I furthered my friendship with the old man, a deformed man began to befriend us and join our little group. I have to admit he scared me, but the old man seemed familiar with him, so I went along with his friendship. This deformed man really looked strange, hardly like a man at all.

He had a head discolored and misshapen like a russet potato. He had only a few hairs coming out of the top of his head, but they were thick and leathery like mice tales. He had a large hump on his back, and he was always dressed in burlap and carried a stick for a cane. His eyes were so small they were the size of pencil erasers, and seemed deflated and flat. He wore thick spectacles. All of a sudden, a long time passed since I was able to see these two.

I was visiting the mall one day, but it was closing and I almost got locked in, but as I came to the glass front doors, they opened for me as if they were automatic (which they weren't). For some reason I was in a very good mood, and skipped through the parking lot looking for my car. I soon noticed a path in the woods that I realized was a way to get to the old cabin. Despite the sinking sun, I decided to visit my old friends.

When I got to the cabin, it looked the same as before, with moss covering the roof as if it had been thatched with it. Only the deformed man was there, and there was sad harmonica music, but I couldn't see anyone playing a harmonica. I went on the porch and began to talk to the deformed man, waiting for the old man to come out. It's then I noticed a skeleton laying face down in the mud, just off the porch. The bones looked withered and weak like dead weeds. I knew it must be the remains of the old man.

The deformed man started acting oddly like the old man, sitting in his rocking chair, saying "This house is all I need." I then said to the deformed man (about the remains in the mud), "Oh, he must of died." The deformed man began to seem very agitated, and said "Yes, something like that." I followed the deformed man inside the cabin where his temper suddenly started to rise, and I began to get frightened. His whole body began to shake, and he dropped his stick that he used as a cane shouting, "ditch the stick!" He jumped into a hole in the floor that seemed to be the collapsed roof of an abandoned mine. I followed him.

Once he got into the mine tunnel, he startled something I can only describe as a mole-man. The little mole-man was rather cute, it looked like it was made of play-doh and wore a blue winter coat with a knitted hat with fuzzy balls on top of it. Once the mole-man saw the deformed man, it's eyes and mouth all made an "O" in terror. The deform man screamed at the mole-man and said, "I charge you with the crime of smuggling sticks!" The deformed man took out an axe and began flailing it at the mole-man. The mole-man was soon chopped to pieces and dead.

What an unusual dream, I even drew a picture of the frightened mole-man in one of my diaries. I wish I could transport back to seven and a half years ago. I wish anything to be happier than I am now, maybe tomorrow I will find some hope again.

Thank you for reading,

Marc

Squash-Flower Tree Dream

Hello All,

Here's a picture of my cat playing with my feet under the sheets as I wake up, and a picture of me waking up. My cat Angie was very good this morning. When I woke up she had only knocked the camera and mouse (computer mouse) off the desk. I had a dream about an age old fear of mine, being left behind, or stranded.

I was grocery shopping with my parents. The grocery store was in a filthy looking strip mall in a side-street curtained from the main road by a thin strip of woods, with garbage dumped around the trees. As my family and I were shopping my parents began insisting I was bored even though I insisted I wasn't bored. Eventually, they told me that if I was so bored I should leave the store and wait by their car.

I left the grocery store, but couldn't find their car. I looked every where I could imagine they might park. I ended up standing in the parking lot in view of the store entrance, to be sure I'd see them when they came out. I waited a long time, until it was clear they must of left and I didn't see them, nor they me. I became very nervous, but luckily my Dad's office was nearby on the same side-street.

I went into my Dad's office, which was more like a small apartment. I tried to use the phone there, but it was somehow connected to just the computers in his office and couldn't make out-going calls. I went outside and took a walk back and forth the side-street. I hoped my parents might be looking for me, and would see me outside on the street. While I was taking this walk I noticed huge trees, trees that looked like squash plants in tree form.

The trees had yellow crook-neck squash hanging in their boughs, and each squash was in a cluster of huge yellow flowers. It was very pretty. The sun shone through the petals because the day was growing late, so the light struck parallel to the ground, and right through the trees. It made the flowers look like rippled tissue paper. I noticed a large black-furred animal jumping from branch to branch, it looked like a large raccoon, but I couldn't tell for sure. Since it was getting near dusk I walked back to my Dad's office, still looking at the trees.

I was still trying to tell what the animals were. As I was just about to get to the building, I realized they were black bears, climbing the trees to eat the squash. Really, dozens of black bears, just as if they were squirrels. I became a bit afraid and ran into my Dad's office. I turned on all the lights, hoping it would discourage the bears from trying to come in. I then saw a woman walking outside, going to the offices upstairs from my Dad's.

I ran out to her and asked her if she had a phone I could use to call my parents. She said yes, but it was in her office. As I was in her office, she introduced me to another woman she worked with and they explained to me they worked for a division of the highway patrol, and already knew my Dad's number because he had run a red light recently. I called my parents and told them where I was, and the woman walked me down the street to where they would meet me

The part of the street by my Dad's office was surprisingly pretty, not at all like the strip mall part by the grocery store. The sunlight was still shining horizontally through the trees and buildings, making everything glow yellow and green. I noticed concrete sculptures in the wooded areas between the office buildings. The sculptures reminded me of Hindu temples abandoned and overgrown by the forest. I could still see all the black bears jumping from huge yellow-flowered tree to tree.

The woman confirmed my suspicion that the black-furred animals were bears, but she said if I looked carefully some of them were a smaller type of animal that also fed on the squash (it was the animal I first thought was a raccoon). I mentioned to her how surprised I was at how pretty this part of the street was, when the rest of it was so ugly. That's when my parents big burgundy car pulled up and my dream ended.

Now I better get ready for some appointments. I didn't sleep well last night, so I'm going to have to take a nap at some point in time today. I hate the feeling of leaving the house when I know I'm sleep-deprived. Oh well, it could be worse (blah, or better).

Thank you for reading,

Marc

Dream in a Dream

Hello All,

Here are pictures of my cat Angie and I this morning. I'm surprised I even remember a dream this morning because Angie kept trying to play with everything on my desk, so I had to keep waking up to get her to stop. Angie wakes up at about 4am and starts playing, some mornings she can be really loud (like this morning) and keeps waking me up. Anyway, I had a dream.

My parents managed to get me into some sort of quick degree program that we all hoped would make it easier for me to find a job. It was a very busy and difficult program, but school type things don't really bother me, and by chance my best friend Craig Gillan, from when I was around 5-7years old was also enrolled there.

The end of the program approached and the instructors alerted us that we would be participating in a short group experiment before graduating. I thought nothing of it, and eagerly looked forward to returning home. Craig Gillan and I were assigned to stay in the same room. It looked like a hospital room, and that's when I became suspicious.

Craig and I sat down on one of the beds and began to read a letter together. The letter told us that our suitcases (which we had packed in anticipation of going home) would be kept from us, and we would be staying in the hospital room for some type of observation. We would have to spend 9 nights in the room. Though it was a small comfort that my childhood friend was with me, I quickly began to panic.

I somehow managed to get momentary access to one of my smaller bags from the nurse (I think I said my toothbrush was in it or something), and took my cell phone out of my bag and hid it in my bedding. The nurse came back to retrieve my bag. As soon as I could hear her footsteps fade out of earshot down the hall, I quickly called my parents. My Mom answered the phone and it seemed to take forever (though I'm sure it was only about 30 seconds) to explain to her what was happening and that I was trapped and needed help and couldn't stay on the phone much longer. My Mom said she didn't know what to do, but she and Dad would get in touch with the institution and see what they could do.

The next thing I remember, I was waking up in my own bedroom at home. I felt very disoriented and came downstairs to the kitchen. My Mom was acting angry with me, but I didn't know why. She then started asking me why I was acting so strange last night, and if I was drinking. I was completely mystified, and had no idea where she was coming from. It was then I realized the school and hospital room had all been part of a dream, and had I probably called my own house from my cell phone, and slept-talked to my Mom. I told her this, and she seemed relieved at the explanation, but didn't seem entirely convinced.

So, that was the dream I remembered. I have a vague phantom memory of another dream, seedy, and taking place at night behind some building, but I can't recall the plot at all to recount it. Today was my first day calling the unemployment people to update them on my job search. I was surprised that the entire phone call was automated, and I never had to speak to a real person. The only job opening they had for me was as a public school teacher. I don't necessarily want to be a public school teacher, but it would be a great way to get out of retail.

It's unfortunate, North Carolina is far too backward to allow a sexual minority like myself to teach in public school, not unless I completely hid any aspect of myself from everyone (including people outside of work). I've never been able to pass as "straight," which I guess is a mixed blessing. I've met a lot of school teachers who where homosexual, and all of them had to be very secretive about their lives.

I'm such a frevrent admirer of education that it would be impossible for me to allow my students to live in the dark about so many truths in life. Even if I could get hired (which, trust me, as an obvious sexual minority I couldn't in NC), I would probably get fired for telling my students both sides of every story, not just the government approved one. It's a shame that many people that would be wonderful educators will never have the chance because of the frightened and ignorant critical mass of the USA.

Thank you for Reading,

Marc

Dream of Little Worth

Hello All,

Here is a picture of the 3inch high-heel boots, that are my working shoes, and a picture of me waking up this morning. This morning I had a dream really lacking in any ephemeral qualities, but I decided to post it anyway since the way I felt in the dream, sort of matches the way I feel in real life.

In the earliest part of the dream I can remember, I was in a very expensive department store with my friend Jones. The floor was so highly polished it was hard to tell which was brighter, the lights on the ceiling themselves, or the floor tiles. I was wearing my high-heel boots, which usually makes me feel good because they make me look taller and thinner, but in the dream I had injured one of my knees, so it was hard to walk in that confident click-clack. I felt self-conscious that the women in the department store would think I wasn't walking well because I didn't know how to walk in high-heels. In real life I get irritated when I feel women are watching me walk to see if I have trouble walking in heels, there's nothing genetic in a man that makes them unable to walk in heels. My 3inch heeled boots are the shoes I stand up 8 hours a day in, so it's understandably irritating when I feel a gaggle of women are excitingly watching to see if I stumble when I step over a curb. It's a pet-peeve of mine, just like when people ask me who did my make-up (I DID, duh). Anyhow, back to the dream.

As Jones and I were in the department store, he introduced me to some wealthy friend of his, a man in his early 50's. I have no idea why we were talking to him, perhaps he was going to buy us something, since we were in a store where neither of us could possibly afford anything. The man clearly wanted to say more to me, but his younger brother walked up to us (he was a man in his late 30s), and thought we looked cool, so wanted to hang-out with us.

The younger brother took us to a music store after hours. Naturally it wasn't to look at music, but to meet his wealthy friend who owned the place, and to play around with his instruments. We had a lot of fun, and soon the night grew late. We all went our different ways, but the younger brother had left a prescription bottle in my car, and called me the next morning to ask me to bring it to his house. I knew the younger brother was just slumming it with Jones and I, and would never actually want to be friends with us. He was just toying with us because we were cool, artsy, poor people. I did however recognize his older brother's desire to speak with me, who I could also tell was a homosexual.

That morning, I headed-off in my car with the directions the younger brother gave me. I was excited at my opportunity to talk more with the older brother because, frankly, I'm very poor and really want to get out of Raleigh and move somewhere were it's easier for an effeminate homosexual like me to get a job, or at least move to a place where I don't feel so marginalized. I figured the older brother might have some pity on me and lead me to some job connections.

When I got to the house (a mansion, of course), it had a large lawn, softly patterned with little hills, and each little hill had a large oak tree on it. Every once in a while, I'd see a suited security guard move from behind a tree. I got to the door, and to my dismay the bottom floor was laid out just like a reception lobby to a business, receptionists and all. This meant no chance encounter with the older brother. I brought the prescription bottle to the receptionist, and she called the younger brother. When she got off the phone with him, she said he couldn't come down because he wasn't finished sleeping, but thanked me for bringing the bottle back. Disappointed, but not really surprised, I went home and assumed my dealings with this rich family was over with.

When I got home there was a message on my answering machine from Jones. He was telling me that the younger brother wanted to hang-out with us that afternoon. I went over to Jones's house and we did something quick with the younger brother, like have coffee. The younger brother soon said he had to go home because he had a lot of work to do that night. Before I left Jones's house, Jones told me I should go to the house and ask if they wanted to buy one of my drawings because they had all kinds of money to throw around. So, the next morning I went back to the mansion.

I walked down the perfectly groomed lawn, with one tree for every hill (I suspected the hills were man-made). The closer I got to the house, I began to encounter little plastic toys, streamers, and plastic wine glasses. By the time I got to the house I actually had to brush the party refuse aside with my boots in order to get through. I had that humiliating feeling of, "Oh, he didn't have any work to do last night, he just didn't want us to show up at his party." I went up to the desk in the lobby, and there were two receptionists there.

I asked for the older brother first, and they said he wasn't home, but they would call the younger brother to see if he would look at the drawings I brought. I could hear the irritated mumbling of the younger brother on the other line of the phone as one of the receptionists tried to get him to come down. She seemed genuinely to feel bad for me, and said she was sorry and he couldn't come down. I began to talk to both of the receptionists and told them I was trying to see if the brother's would buy any of my drawings. They replied, "Dear, there are all kinds of little things you could do around here for money, you should come around later and see what we need done."

To me, that was the obvious point of demarcation between my "class" and the people of the house's "class." It sucks living in a "classless" society because there ARE classes, they just get to be more stealthy about it. That was about the end of my dream, so I got to wake up this morning with a mild sense of inferiority. I know I shouldn't be so vulnerable to social judgement, but oh well, I'm human.

Thanks for reading,

Marc

Just Toys, not Friends, are Only for Fun

I just got back from spending time with my friend Cindy, and had a really good time, here's Cindy wiped-out from the day, sitting with her daughter Iona. Cindy's a typical mother in the sense she sacrifices her right to emotion in order to be a leader to her family, and a guide to me.

Today she had had it. One company's accidental double charge caused her a 175$ overdraft fee she cannot afford, meanwhile the company at fault is wrangling with her to right their wrong. Meanwhile she has to struggle to feed her family, pay medical bills, and help me, an emotional supercell.

So, today her temper trembled under her voice as she tired to get her money, as she tired to explain to her father why she didn't have any money. All this while herding and attending to her four and five year old, with her adult daughter not far away on her mind. As we dragged ourselves around in the summer heat her mood sizzled, but as always she retained her personality and self, and that's who I'm friends with. As I left for home she apologized for her bad mood. There's simply no need to apologize. Life is hard, and it has been for both of us. Life's been a disappointment, and at times an insult in addition.

I rather have solid quality time with a friend in a bad mood, than be the type of person to just abandon someone because they're not happy, because they have problems, because they can't "rise to the occasion." This whole past year I've really had to struggle with some dark emotional problems, and I've seen friend after friend either just straight-out leave, or do their good deed only to abandon me forever-since. What kind of society are we where it's acceptable to only stick around for the good times? People should make friends for companionship, to share like-mindedness, to form a safety-net and a community. However, people I've respected, and known for years have simply crumbled and disappeared once things started to get rough with me this past year. For some of these people, it was just a few bad months out of years and years of friendship, that caused their allegiance to crumble away. I suppose I don't want friends like that, and I don't want my one remaining friend to think I would be like that. I will not abandon a friend because they're not all roses. Life is not happy, nor fair, so why expect people to be fun and happy all the time, or even most of the time?

There's no place for fair-weather friends and the picture of me in this post is of me having a great time during hard times with Cindy.

Thank you for reading,

Marc

The "What-if" Dreams

Hello All,

Last night I had two dreams I can remember now. Both of them either had a beginning that didn't match the end, or an end that didn't match the beginning. Here is the first one:

I was in the car with someone else, and believe it or not we were both dressed like good old boys from Eastern NC (with the baseball caps ever so lightly rested upon our heads). We were unfamiliar with Raleigh and were looking for Hillsborough St. For those of you from other towns, that would be the main street by NCSU. We were driving some rusty looking Chevrolet, with fruit-shaped car-deodorant pendants hanging around the rear-view mirror, and papers and cups wedged on top the dashboard. We stopped at the Phillips 66 gas station for directions and began to take a left at the intersection.

The guy I was with quickly realized it was the wrong way. So, instead of turning around using a side street or a driveway, I just did a U-turn right there in the intersection and took the next possible direction, which of course, was wrong again. My ever-so impatient passenger implored me to make another U-turn in the intersection and go the only other way in the intersection we hadn't tried. After all this spinning around, I began to be worried a police officer would see us and pull us over for reckless driving. Sure enough, I did see a police officer in my rear-view mirror, but oddly enough he completely ignored us.

When we finally got to Hillsborough St. To our surprise everything was blocked by a mass of construction. There were lone concrete towers with metal pipes sticking out, high mounds of red clay, and half-demolished buildings everywhere, all covered in a constant beige wind of dust. It looked like what I would imagine the Valley of the Kings looks like. We had to leave the car and spent a good time climbing over the construction to reach the nearby neighborhoods we were looking for. Oddly enough, once we got to the house, the guy I was with disappeared, and all the construction was gone. It was just me standing at the Ridgewood Philips 66 watching two rednecks get pulled over by the cops for driving loop-de-loops all around the intersection.

My next dream was a little more detailed, so I hope it won't make this post overly long. The second dream began with me arriving in Raleigh, as if I had never moved here, and was coming straight from Connecticut. I walked into an apartment that evidently was my Dad's. I instantly noticed a small dog-eared and loose-leafed Bible in Spanish on a little night-table. I looked around the apartment, there were only his clothes shoved in the drawers and on the furniture. I thought it seemed as if he had never met my mother, and wonder if perhaps they weren't actually my parents, so I left the apartment to go further into Raleigh.

Now, in real life, Raleigh is not pedestrian-friendly at all. You pretty much have to have a car to live here. It's also one of the uglier cities around. Most buildings have a modular home/ strip-mall type look, and there's hardly a hint of any older architecture that might have once been here. Where Raleigh does seem quaint tends to be in areas that are now crack-ridden and dangerous, so imagine my surprise in the dream when I found myself walking into something not unlike grand-central station.

Huge steel beams held-up railway bridges at least 50 feet above my head, and crowds of people were busily making their way through the station. In every little half-hidden spot, I'd notice a homeless person, or runaway child contently sitting in their area as if they lived there forever. Once I got past the station, I came to a large indoor aquarium. It was a beautiful building with a mezzanine and a glass dome, so you could walk around and look at the sea-life as well as look out the windows to see the many large buildings of this imaginary Raleigh (really, it looked like a real city with people crowded on the streets under beautifully constructed buildings). It was then that I noticed a floor-level pool of water surrounded by tropical plants. I noticed dolphins jumping and squeaking all over it. There was a sign by the guard rail surrounding it, telling you to blow into some horn that would make a sound like a baby dolphin, and that they would approach you.

I looked all over the guardrail for the horn, but couldn't find it. The dolphins continued to jump and play right in front of me anyway, and just as I wished, one of them slowed down and made eye-contact with me. That's when my Dad approached me by the dolphin pool, as if we had planned to meet there.

Well, those are the dreams I can remember from last night. It's early in the day (I woke up about two hours ago), and I already feel tired. Today I'll just be working on my resume and on more pictures of the dream I described in my very first post on this blog. It's a shame how I always seem to draw really great detailed pictures on my crappiest sketching paper. I guess I just feel less inhibited when I'm not using my thick, more expensive "final draft" paper, so I attempt deeper detail and trickier perspective. Once I figure out how to use my hand me down camera (no, I'm not a good with technical electronic things), I'll take some pictures of my artwork, along with some pictures of my cat.

Thank you for reading,

Marc

First Day Out

Hello All.

Today I was my first day out of the apartment since Friday. As you can see from the picture above, I went to my friend Cindy's house (As I do, on Tuesdays). Her garden has been doing very well. Here I'm posed in front of her black plum tomato plant that I've been very excited about, and luckily is doing the best of all her tomato plants. I've been rather shocked by all the financial calamity I've tumbled into (mostly by my own stupidity, and somewhat by mere misfortune), so have barricaded myself in my apartment for the past few days. Luckily, I made it to Cindy's and back without dieing.

I would love to tell you more about my dreams last night, but they were truly lame. One involved me being worried about clearing a space in my room for my yoga practice. My room was so messy that a large conical tan-furred mole had burrowed it's way into my clothing basket. Another involved Cindy's eldest daughter asking me if I wanted to make cookies with her and her mother. I woke up to find my yoga area clear as usual and preformed a sufficient amount of my practice (keep in mind I've been in trauma-mode for the past week). I surfed the web a bit to read more about the atrocities being carried out towards my fellow sexual minorities in the Middle East. I've been preoccupied with accounts of the treatment of gay Iraqi's and Iranians (though certainly know it doesn't stop in these geographical locations).

I have no money, I don't know how to help these people, but I think the LGBT "community" in privileged America should be doing more. I'm now considering trying to learn at least a usable amount of Farsi or Arabic over my time of unemployment (I do have a Master's in English, so I'm assuming I have some sort of language "knack"), to see if there isn't a way I can get involved with helping these people. I don't understand the Gay community in America, if there are other sexual minorities being lashed, stoned to death, and hung in other countries, why aren't we sneaking them into our own country, hiding them in our living places, so they can make a life for themselves.

As citizens of America, it's not our fault our government doesn't immediately give these oppressed sexual minorities a safe refuge. It's our duty to take the higher moral ground and provide these people with a network of refuge in our country. I don't care if it's underground and illegal, but these oppressed LGBT people deserve to live, and to be free. We have plenty of illegal migrant workers and that's unofficially "OK" with our government and society as a whole, so why shouldn't it be de facto "OK" to harbor and protect gay Iranians, or transgendered Iraqi's (etc) in our homes and places of business. I truly doubt these people are going to turn around and destroy America, I think they'd be elated to be able to live somewhere where they could not live in fear for being found out as a sexual minority.

I feel plenty marginalized as it is in America, so I can't imagine how it must be for people like me in countries with even less sensitivity to the LGBT minority.

Thank you for reading,

Marc

Wrap you Worries in Dreams

Hello it's Marc:

I spend most of my time alone. I have a best friend, her name is Cindy, and I see her every Tuesday. My dreams are my television, I have wonderful dreams, and most of this site will be narrations of those dreams.

I have acute agoraphobia, and I regularly become trapped in my apartment. It takes enormous effort on my part to go to new places, or to speak to new people. I also have trouble recognizing people, which makes making new friends even harder. I have a Master's degree in English, practice Ashtanga yoga to the point where I could teach it, but I've been a bagger at a grocery store for the past several years. Change is very hard for me, and I've just lost my job.

I hated that job from the bottom of my heart. I only stayed there out of familiarity and for fear of discrimination as a homosexual. I also have a touch of gender-disphoria, I don't mind my male body, it's quite nice, but for as long as I can remember I've always wanted to look like Mia Farrow, Jane Birkin, or Audrey Hepburn. Since that's not a possibility, I just take the part of living as a gay man, save some body-glitter and crystal-glass earrings (I love all that shimmers).

Now I'm presented with the task of going forth in the world of strangers, to get unemployment, to get food stamps, and at last, to get a job out of the retail circus. To get a job that uses my skills. I have no idea of how to present myself to the world. But here is a dream I had in November which more or less explains my current mortal dilemmas:

I had a dream completely smothered by a sense of hurriedness. I was about 5 years old, and on a field-trip to a distant town. I accidentally brought my blankey, teddy bear, and stuffed unicorn with me, and I was terrified I was going to lose them, especially since the teachers were rushing us from place to place. First we went to an old opera house, it was nighttime.

As the class entered the large marble-staired foyer, I got distracted. I walked up some red carpeted stairs to some forgotten corner of the opera house. It was a prop room, that seemed untouched since the 40's. I remember seeing framed pictures of Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich. I was hugging my blankey, stuffed bear, and unicorn tightly under my overcoat, but just couldn't keep myself from putting them down to open a large chest beneath those starlets' pictures. The chest had beads, dazzling in the street lights that stretched through the windows, the beads hung to the floor.

I made sure my toys were close in my sight. I opened the chest and began to deck myself like a Christmas tree, with an old fur coat, clip on earrings, and strings of beads. All so large on me that I seemed to sink in them like a child submerged in a snow bank. I just remember everything, even the slick mink hairs, flashing in the street lights through the windows. I pouted dramatically with one hand to my heart and the other reaching for the ceiling, " Comme moi!" It was then I eyed my blankey, unicorn, and teddy. I quickly shrugged off my costume, and ran down the stairs, only to find my class had already left the opera house.

I tucked my toys tightly under my coat again, and ran down the dark cobbled street in the direction the doorman told me my class had gone. I finally saw them, with their wood-soled dress shoes clacking down a small stone outside amphitheater into a library. I caught up to the class once they were inside, and carefully checked to be sure I had my blankey, my teddy bear, and my stuffed unicorn. I had all, but the class was being rushed along to a story time area, with all colors, shapes and sizes of cakes and sweets gleaming in the library's fluorescent lights. The story time had ended and we were all allowed to eat whatever we liked, but I had to put one of my toys down in order to have a hand free to have the lime green frosted chocolate cake I wanted.

I put my teddy bear down and quickly ate my cake because a teacher was already dragging me up by my arm to rush off to our next location. I almost forgot my teddy bear, but jerked away and got him before we rushed back into the moon and lamp-post lit streets of the town. Again we clacked down the cobble road. The road led past the opera house again and straight down to a man-made harbour, all made of huge stone blocks. The oddest thing was, the harbour had a humpback whale treading water right in the middle of it. Not swimming around at all, just kind of hovering at the surface of the water and looking at us as we made our way down the street. It was then I became an adult man (who looked nothing like the adult man I actually am) perhaps a journalist because I was seized by the desire to take a picture of this strange whale.

That man was still little me though, with my blankey, teddy bear, and unicorn tucked into his leather jacket. Now an adult man, I made way stealthily along the street-side buildings to try and take a picture of the whale without startling it, but just as I got my camera out, some iron-grating covering a basement level stairwell gave way. I knew I had to drop one of my toys in order to keep myself from falling to severe injury. I dropped my blankey to the bottom of the stairwell, and grabbed on the street-level railing to keep myself from falling. The dream ended with me looking down at my blankey, wondering how I was going to safely pull myself up and get down to reclaim my blankey.

I think that dream is a good summary of who I am. I plan to draw a narrated story of the dream and have already completed some sketches, but now that I'm unemployed I'm working on pictures to sell, perhaps when I finish working on the pictures I'm drawing now, I'll finish my picture book of that dream.

Thank you for reading,

Marc