7/16/2023 -
And one of the most common recurring dreams I have yet again. I'm in my old basement apartment and I know I'm not really supposed to be there. There's a new person who's living there who's a white dude with glasses and short brown curly afro. I keep trying to leave and this time I'm going to blow off everything. I have plans later in the day but I know none of it matters, so fuck it. None of it ever really matters. I know that deep down.
The only thing that's different here is that a lot of young people keep showing up to hang in this tiny little place for unknown reasons. It's seems very popular and at one point I'm like:
"Wow, this spot is way more live than it was when my wife and I were staying here!"
A younger woman with shoulder length curly blonde hair who looks a bit like Florence Pugh agrees.
"Waaaaay more live!"
(as in live music in case that's not tracking)
That's really the only thing of significance that happens in this entire excursion and I wake up when I finally do manage to leave. The significant thing happens afterward when I'm in a liminal sleep state as in this state it's pointed out to me how I resisted a more capitalist/consumerist lifestyle with every fiber of my being when I was younger and whatever you want to call "they" had to force my hand.
This is entirely true. I did not want to work for corporate America and only ended up on that path because I was massively struggling to find decent work in the non-profit sector. That transition seemed to be guided by something "higher" as it were and happened right after I got into psychedelic sex magick. Same deal with buying a townhouse. I was totes fine living in that shitty basement apartment forever and my wife forced my hand in buying a place. The only reason we could afford to own a place had to do with us being willing to live in a super cheap pad for a decade.
Hell, I'm going on vacation this week but I don't give a shit about taking vacations. We take a couple very modest local ones every year but that's my wife's thing. I have zero desire to spend money on travel and staying in nice hotels still makes me feel a bit weird. We go out to eat a decent amount but again, totally my wife's thing.
I must say, I hadn't really considered how even the minor amount of middle class "luxury" in my life involved compromise on my end and I resisted it with every fiber of my being. What they're showing me is that this is why these otherworldly entities respect me. It was like:
"Mad props!"
You get it to a degree that's completely impractical in your world. You live in a shit world and we had to force you to be more of a shit bag to fit in but you were ultimately right the whole time. This is why we chat with you. There's a level of incorruptibility there that other people simply do not have. I realize that our entire realm is essentially a goddamn multilevel marketing scheme at it's core. Destined to fail. Well, I mean, that's a metaphor they used recently quite specifically but it tracks.
I've always suspected this is what me constantly showing up in my old basement apartment entailed, they're just confirming it. I definitely attribute this partially to the anti-consumerist current of the 90's that I came of age in the midst of (although it really has to do with my spirituality). I can only hope this anti-consumerist sentiment becomes far more live with the kids going forward than it ever was back then. It's our only hope.
7/17/2023 -
In hypnagogia a woman in a blue dress is being chased by a song from Mr. Show.
"Do it, do it, do it. You know you want to do it!"
This transitions into a dream where I'm drunk late at night and coming out of a party while possessed by this same song.
"Do it, do it, do it. You know you want to do it!"
And so I do. I call my ex from way the hell back in college and meet her at her place. We're getting back together and it's odd because we're not hooking up or anything, we're just lying on the floor together sweating profusely from the heat and talking about how we're getting back together. Her alcoholic brother is also there in the room with us sitting silently, which is odd. It also seems to be very late at night. I'm very excited about getting back together with her but then the typical dream thing happens where I remember my wife and am like:
"Oh shit, she's gotta be wondering where I am right about now."
Also, she lives in the same building as my ex, just a few floors down, which is also where I live apparently. Hmmm, maybe this wasn't the great idea I thought it was. For context, that Mr. Show song is about being warned not to stick your dick in quite specific holes and it's sung by the devil who's encouraging you to do so. All of this tracks. I must say I hadn't thought about that particular ex in a very long time though. Definitely odd.
Now I'm at a crowded party in a large older house in the city and honestly I'm bored. It seems like a fine party but I don't know anyone here nor am I really sure why I'm here either. I start wandering around and somehow I fly to the top of the roof and when I do, I realize there's a roof deck and a couple people I know from the Seattle psych rock scene a decade ago are smoking weed up there. One of them summons me down to smoke a bowl with him, which I do.
His wife, who I also know, shows up and I'm excited about chatting her up but she does not seem to be super thrilled about talking to me. I'm not even sure if it's me or just that she's bored with the party in general. I have no idea how this happens but now we're in the main floor living room and there are a bunch of metallic folding chairs set up for some kind of performance, a play I believe. We're waiting for this thing to start and I'm sitting right next to this woman I used to know and she still seems very bored and uncommunicative, but she wanted to sit next to me apparently.
Anyway, I'm waiting for this thing to start and realizing it's the middle of the night. Again, my wife must be wondering where I am. I look at my watch to figure out when it is exactly but the typical dream thing happens where my watch keeps giving different readings. I can't pin down a specific time and you know what? I actually know exactly why this is happening. I'm dreaming, although wow. Am I? It all feels so real because of course it does but I know what the sketchy watch thing means.
Because I don't want to drive home drunk at odd hours of the morning, I instinctively pull out of the dream, then wake up disappointed. Like, damn it, I could have gone lucid there but I didn't, because I didn't want to drive home drunk and waking up seemed like an easier alternative. Weak.
7/18/2023 -
In my liminal sleep states a non-corporeal entity is meticulously creating art in the higher dimensions. It has like a blank photoshop document pulled up that exists in multiple realities and it's calculatedly tweaking images to maximize the hyper-color potency of the pieces it's working on. Gotta make sure the colors pop.
Now I've showed up at my Mom's old place on Beacon Hill to stay the night. Except that when I arrive, I realize she's renting my old room to one of my old bandmates. I find this odd but whatever, I can make this work. And so we go upstairs and we're jamming on some tasty licks when all of a sudden his sister shows up with her girlfriend. She's this non-descript looking slightly out of shape white woman with shoulder length brown hair but her girlfriend is much younger and rail thin with a short blonde spiky cut and she's got an angular face with cheekbones that could cut diamonds. Way out of his sister's league from a looks perspective but they're both wearing the same matching outfit that looks like a work uniform of some variety. When they show up, my former bandmate immediately insists that we have to leave them alone, so no more tasty licks.
I go downstairs sort of confused and am bitching at my mom. Where the hell am I going to sleep? There's a futon in the living room but there are people constantly going in and out and I'm pretty sure it would destroy my back. I'm slowly putting together what's going on and as far as I can tell my old bro is sub renting his room to his sister whenever she's in the city and wants to hook up with her trophy girlfriend or side piece or whatever. I still don't know what to do but eventually my friend comes down and we head out to a very low rent sports style dive bar.
This is relatively boring and my friend eventually vanishes for a while. I'm just sitting there drinking by myself in this back room with a pool table that no one's playing for a long period before I go looking for him. When I find him, what can I say, this is very hard to describe. It's like this group of seedy looking older white men are psychokinetically desiccating him with their minds, or something like that. He falls to the ground and his skin gets all bloated and puffy and surreal. I can tell that they killed him and obviously it's a metaphor for alcoholism. He looks like he drank himself to death and yet, these other creepy dudes definitely did this to him somehow. I just watched it and holy fuck was it unsettling.
They have no interest in me however so I just sidle out of the back room like nothing happened. And now I'm in the dilemma of being drunk in an incredibly shady neighborhood at night with no way home. The bar seems to be closing and I approach one guy and ask about buses but he tells me it's going to be very hard to catch a bus out of here at this hour. So I start walking up to random people vacating the bar and offering to pay them to give me a ride home. This fails on multiple occasions until I find this one group lead by a sort of nerdy looking Asian woman. She's driving a couple other people home so she can take me as well if there's cash involved.
I wake up and when I get back under we're now at another bar, albeit with seemingly completely different people. We're sitting at a corner table by the window and there are two very bookish looking women and two fairly rough and tumble looking rocker type white dudes with me. The more we chat, the more I realize that both of the women are sort of hitting on me and it's super odd because their looks keep morphing every time I talk to them but again, they're both very cute, and very much younger women who look like they read a lot of books. No matter how they morph, that aspect remains and this is not something that would make sense in a waking state at all.
I'm thinking to myself that I should ask one of them for their number before I leave and I'm trying to decide which one when the guy sitting next to me to my left starts angrily ranting and waving around a switch blade. He's this thin clean shaven guy in a sleeveless shirt with messy blonde hair and I'm like:
"Dude. What the fuck? Put that thing away!"
Me saying this only agitates him more and he's now calling me out on my privilege. I am very sympathetic to this position. The other two women now start attacking him and that's where the dream cuts out.
But for the rest of the night I'm warping through all this incredibly colorful art in a high velocity mind tunnel. See, colorful art. It has to have lots of colors. That former bandmate I was hanging out with? Very shady dude as it turns out. I found about this way after the fact. If we didn't have these shady ass characters, it'd be shitty art. That's what they're trying to communicate with me and once again, the metaphor is pretty goddamn heavy handed if I must say so myself. Also if you'll notice, all the the last 3 night's dreams are absolutely tied together thematically. Plans within plans.
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