2/14/2024 –
I’m chilling at home when this pretty brown haired woman who vaguely looks like Evangeline Lilly with bangs calls me up and asks for a favor. I agree not knowing what this favor entails exactly but I head out onto the city streets to find out. When we rendezvous outside her condo building I understand the scoop. She’s dating my one gay woman friend and she wanted me as a double date for her other straight friend, who in this scenario is Courtney Love. OK then.
So the favor I’m doing for her is going on a date with Courtney Love and pretty much immediately she is insanely sexually forward with me. She’s just all over me right from the jump as we’re walking to this bar we’re going to grab drinks at. There’s this one sequence where she walks off down this alley by herself briefly taking a phone call and I am marveling at what a hot mess she is from a distance. We haven’t even hit the bar yet and she’s already quite obviously wasted on something.
It's not a far walk and we keep heading as she becomes increasingly handsy with me. In fact, as we’re nearing the club and as we enter, she starts fingering my asshole down my pants and even I’m like:
“Wow. Okay. Didn’t even ask huh? That’s aggressive.”
But I’m also like, whatever, this is a favor for a friend so if my friend wants me to fuck this woman than I suppose I can take one for the team. But as we enter the club which seems like this very large high end sports bar type place, the awkwardness becomes palpable. Courtney is all over me and I’m quite appropriately not knowing how to handle it. I mean, why did we go out to a bar? We might as well have just gotten down to business, you know?
In fact, we head to this back room area and she’s so all up in my shit that I accidentally knock over this dude’s Molson. I then have to quickly apologize and offer to go buy him another one, which I head to the bar to do. That’s about where I lose track of the sitch.
In the next scenario, a group of friends who live near my wife and I have asked us over for a daytime get together and we’re conflicted. I’m pushing for it because why not but my wife is on the fence. I somehow manage to convince her to give it a whirl so we head out.
They live in this very modest white house and we’re all hanging out on the back sun porch area. It’s a very diverse group of 10 or so age 40 plus people, almost like Hollywood-intentionally so and we’re chatting and enjoying ourselves. After a while though, I’m realizing that I’m barely saying anything, and I’m barely saying anything because I’m a weirdo who likes to talk about channeling ancient daemons and dreams and shit. So there’s a reason I’m not talking much and it’s a very real life reason that’s invading my dream life. I typically find normal people conversation dull and I’m always essentially pretending I’m someone I’m not.
Then this other small group of people show up with this one shorter white guy with a cool 80’s style bomber jacket and curly brown hair. They head off to explore the house and my wife heads with them. Eventually, after sitting there once again not talking much for a while, I start wondering what happened to my wife so I go looking. When I do, we’re no longer in the modest house we started in but in this enormous decadent mansion. Is there tons of bitchin’ wood paneling? Of course. There somehow always is in these dream scenarios.
There’s also a deck area with an amazing view of a river valley and this feels super familiar. Oh yeah, I’ve absolutely been here before. A bunch of times. But I can’t find my wife. Where the hell did she go with those other people and that cool bomber jacket dude? It seems like I’ve looked everywhere.
We head back down this ridiculously decadent stairway and more guests are arriving. We’re greeting them and heading toward the main sunroom area but once again, where the hell is my wife?
This question is never answered. Instead I eventually find myself in a disembodied state where I’m watching this excellent animation. It’s just a bunch of swirling colors, sort of aurora borealis inspired in a way but in a circular black vacuum rather than in the night sky. The strange thing is though, the choice trippy animation is making me a bit morose. It takes me a sec to figure out why before I realize:
“Oh yeah, it’s making me a bit sad because I should be making my own trippy animation and I’m not.”
Noted.
One other thing. While pulling out of a sober meditative state in the morning I’m told:
“They think they need devices to understand their dreams.”
Yeah, you know what? That is ridiculous.
2/15/2024 –
I started playing Quantum Break before going to bed which lead to all these ridiculously complicated and convoluted sci fi dreams that mostly fall outside of the realm of human narrative comprehension. I do remember a couple things though. For one, it signified the return of the crackling energy kid and this time he presented himself as a guy I used to know who booked shows years ago.
We do our typical thing where we rendezvous at this second or third floor of the building of what seems like a museum in lower Queen Anne, and I try to tap into the energy flow he's creating, which only sort of works each time we try it. Typical shit.
The one thing that’s different here is that after meeting up with him a few times, I learn that he’s now a bookie, which leads to this discussion about how I might have some interest in placing a bet on a sporting event every now and again. It’s not something I’d do often but sometimes I have intuitive feelings about things that I’ve been thinking about wagering money. I’ve been considering it for years and he tells me he can set me up with an account.
Here's where this gets a bit strange. Upon waking up I realize that the guy I was thinking about used to be a professional weed dealer essentially. Obviously legalization wasn’t the best thing for this career choice and now he’s going into sports betting in this scenario. Interesting metaphor. Later I visit his place and it’s this comically run down almost post-apocalyptic farm town way outside the city. It immediately makes me think of Fallout and I’m still yet to even play one of those games. I hope that dude’s doing OK.
What else, a brief dream about eating breakfast with my highly autistic cousin that I don’t remember well but I remember the gist, which is that I have an ability to relate to mentally ill people that most people don’t. Maybe this is true. I am the only one that actually spends time chatting with my highly schizophrenic brother (quite understandably so honestly). I also haven’t seen this cousin in nearly a decade.
Eventually all this leads to the classic scenario where I’m hanging out in someone’s apartment with my normal brother and another unidentified friend. It very much feels like an old school sitch where we bought weed and are now smoking and hanging with the dealer, who’s maybe also our friend or not really and we have to awkwardly pretend. The kids will never know this whole charade and good on them. The one thing I do realize though is that I need to get home so I’m doing the classic shit where I’m trying to figure out the right bus route and questioning the validity of my conclusions.
Then I realize my brother and this other guy probably drove so I’m sure I can catch a ride with them. This somehow leads to a situation where we’re right inside the entrance of an old school mall bookstore and I’m eating a drumstick ice cream cone wondering whether or not I should be doing this. I mean, the ice cream could spill on the books. I wake up out of this and can’t help but laugh at the absurdity.
2/16/2024 –
I’m watching First Take and Molly Qerim is pitching her new clothing line. She starts by explaining that the whole concept is inspired by this viral video where this black woman wearing a bandana is in the middle of what looks like a Harlem street surrounded by a bunch of other peeps passionately talking about how everything is so expensive these days.
Then she trots out some of the designs and the first is this fairly basic looking grey hoodie on this thin black man, who’s once again standing in the middle of the Harlem streets. The design is fairly mid but I must confess it is odd how the sweatshirt is almost in another reality than the person wearing it. It’s like a different photoshop layer effect.
Now a shot of these two I’d say 8 year old kids sitting at their desks at school, again with the quite intentionally stripped down short sleeve shirt designs almost existing in another world.
Now the focus is back on Molly and she’s all:
“Repurposed from the bottom of your jacket closet.“
That’s about all I remember and my only real commentary is: I mean, yeah, the fashion industry is an environmental fucking disaster. We should be recycling looks more and it’s hard to argue with the fundamentals of that pitch. The fits could have been flashier in my mind but I mean, basic concepts never go out of style and the less styles changes the less of an environmental impact. I suppose that’s the point.
Also, while you're here, do you like psychedelic industrial noise rock? Of course you do!
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