4/12/2023 -
I am a form of disembodied consciousness and I somehow separate from myself to look at what I am from a distance. From this detached perspective I look like a glowing yellow cross section of deep space, representing I'd say roughly 100 stars. I then pull back into myself and am looking at a rectangular portal into a bland white walled classroom.
I decide to jump into this portal school and when I do, it's like jumping into my own head. I wake up in my body with a start, still feeling the remaining velocity of the abrupt dimensional shift.
Later I am the same sentient cross section of deep space staring at the classroom portal. There is a woman on the other side of the portal. She's concerned about me entering this school because she's worried that it might increase her level of "negative stress" to which my response is:
"FUCK YOUR NEGATIVE STRESS!"
This is quite obviously a manifestation of my frustrations with being married to someone on the autism spectrum. Shit ain't easy.
Several hours after this I find myself in a classroom. We're all moving to the left side of the room to read passages from this particular text together. Except that I'm confused. It doesn't seem like I have the text to play along with and I'm not the only one. I have the right textbook but there seems to be some supplemental that wasn't included in my copy. Some people seem to have this supplemental text and others don't. We're all lining up in a couple rows of desks on the left side of the classroom and I think the point is that we're supposed to be working together. Those who weren't given the proper materials are supposed to reading along with the people who were. Two nights in a row with rather obvious metaphors I must say.
4/13/2023 -
First I'm running a marathon with my friend. We're almost finished but the last leg goes by this record store. We stop at a lighted intersection to discuss this and of course we have to take a break to browse for albums. It's a small shop and I can't find any CD's I want, but I do have a discussion with the guy behind the counter. He's this older balding slightly overweight white hipster dude with almost a Rollie Fingers type mustache and beard and he is delightful. I just wish I remember what we discussed. I actually sat in bed for a while after this dream trying to remember what we talked about. I remember his jovial tone but none of the actual conversation unfortunately.
Now I'm hanging with an old friend from high school and he informs me that his Dad has just made a batch of his famous brisket. I immediately know this is going to be a problem somehow on an intuitive level. That brisket is just too goddamn tasty. It's addictive. The next thing I know I'm in his house in the dining room. It is completely covered from floor to ceiling in loose meat. Both of their faces are covered in sauce. They've both quit their jobs and have now devoted their lives to starting a brisket business. I'm very skeptical of this but at the same time I must confess that the brisket is goddamn delicious. I'm not addicted to it but I totally get how it can happen and fuck, maybe this is a good business idea because of that. It's hard to take them seriously with sauce and meat dripping down their faces though as they look a bit deranged.
This seems nonsensical but when I contemplated it in the context of this specific friend and his history, it's just a basic metaphor for capitalism. He was a rich kid who briefly rebelled against consumerism because it was trendy in the 90's and then fell back into it full force in college when he started dating a very materialistic woman (who was also his wife in the dream even though they divorced years ago, visual metaphors). His Dad is about the creepiest condescending asshole rich dude that I've ever encountered.
In a liminal state I'm informed:
"You've got to quit beating a dead horse."
I think they're mocking me for my admittedly strange NBA2K fixation but no. They further clarify that they're talking about shit like mass shootings. Then I'm told that from the perspective of the higher realms we're considered a:
"Banana channel"
The drunken monkey shit show. I'm left with a vision of Dr. Strange summoning a vibrant array of multicolored psychedelic madness. That is why I'm here, isn't it?
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