Deep into that darkness peering
Rough night last night. Conversations and facing reality and making choices and crying.
And then, dreams:
I. I am riding a bike, taking an unfamiliar trail through the woods. It's nighttime. I'm cruising along and I start to notice people sleeping on the ground all around me. I've stumbled upon a homeless camp. And my dumb ass is riding right through it while everyone's trying to sleep. But not everyone is asleep, I see as I continue. I come to a clearing and there are people everywhere. Shit everywhere. Literally. One dude reaches out to touch me as I pass by. I'm uncomfortable and scared and embarrassed that I took a path that led me into such a private space for these people. The path curves and starts going uphill. I realize I need to get off the bike and walk, because I'm not sure I can pedal up the incline. I finally make it to the end of the path, which had just horseshoed around and come out by the entrance. There are people there, people not from the woods. I ask them what kind of trail I just traveled. They tell me it's called "The Litter Pan." It's a filthy patch of land ruled by the hobos, where they shit where they like and throw trash down without any sense of remorse. I'm confused and ashamed that I had no idea about this trail until I was already on it. It doesn't seem to matter. There's a small, murky pond toward the entrance of The Litter Pan. There is a competition between two frat-boy types. We are, apparently, near a college campus. The frat boys have a tradition of wrestling in this filthy, stagnant pond where all the hobos bathe and piss. I watch the competition in the moonlight.
II. Sitting on a church pew. My aunt, in name only, because I know she's my aunt, though I don't recognize her, sits down beside me and proceeds to scold me for being so disgustingly fat. She says everyone has noticed my dramatic weight gain, and that if I don't lose 50 pounds, I'll never "land another man." I wake up feeling flabby and ashamed.
And then, dreams:
I. I am riding a bike, taking an unfamiliar trail through the woods. It's nighttime. I'm cruising along and I start to notice people sleeping on the ground all around me. I've stumbled upon a homeless camp. And my dumb ass is riding right through it while everyone's trying to sleep. But not everyone is asleep, I see as I continue. I come to a clearing and there are people everywhere. Shit everywhere. Literally. One dude reaches out to touch me as I pass by. I'm uncomfortable and scared and embarrassed that I took a path that led me into such a private space for these people. The path curves and starts going uphill. I realize I need to get off the bike and walk, because I'm not sure I can pedal up the incline. I finally make it to the end of the path, which had just horseshoed around and come out by the entrance. There are people there, people not from the woods. I ask them what kind of trail I just traveled. They tell me it's called "The Litter Pan." It's a filthy patch of land ruled by the hobos, where they shit where they like and throw trash down without any sense of remorse. I'm confused and ashamed that I had no idea about this trail until I was already on it. It doesn't seem to matter. There's a small, murky pond toward the entrance of The Litter Pan. There is a competition between two frat-boy types. We are, apparently, near a college campus. The frat boys have a tradition of wrestling in this filthy, stagnant pond where all the hobos bathe and piss. I watch the competition in the moonlight.
II. Sitting on a church pew. My aunt, in name only, because I know she's my aunt, though I don't recognize her, sits down beside me and proceeds to scold me for being so disgustingly fat. She says everyone has noticed my dramatic weight gain, and that if I don't lose 50 pounds, I'll never "land another man." I wake up feeling flabby and ashamed.
posted by theogeo | 3/21/2006 11:25:00 AM
1 Comments:
I wish I could dream like that, and then remember them. My out the ass, wholly unqualified interpretation: You're dealing with a lot of fears. Woods, night. As for what the hobos and the shit represent, I've got a pretty good guess, but let's just say we've all had to wade through shit to find happiness. Overton Park can be a scary place for real, especially if you listen to cranky middle-aged people who misinform you about murders happening at Midtown grocery stores. The aunt in church? That's the Superego, SHOULD-ing you to death. You SHOULD this or SHOULD that. Well ... screw her.
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