the Dream Service

swarbles:

i’m dreaming about people trying to kill me again.

i had a dream that i was living at our old house on broadway.  i was working in the slate sink garden and an inebriated homeless person who was passing through the yard vomited in my hair.  i showered in the trunk of the oak tree near the garage, using some sort of sap as shampoo and body wash, so i wasn’t clean at all, just sticky and pinescented.  afterwards, i was in the garage with all three of the bay doors open and a van full of nu-metal goth kids pulled up and they were inquiring about a yellow car.  some really creepy guy had moved into the small house next to the garage and drove a yellow car.  he was peering over the fence.  i said i didn’t know anything about a yellow car.  the van of nu-metal goth kids drove away, and the man next door started shooting at me with the shiniest silver bullets, and it was all slow motion, a thousand tiny deaths.  i fell to the ground and pressed the tips of my fingers into a wound and brought my hand to my face and saw blood, it was warm and viscous.  i woke up as i was dying.  i felt it all.  i feel it all.

i am working in some sort of daycare center. the small room is filled with quiet children, going about their own business. you are there, busily picking up toys. i am surprised to see you, i hadn’t even known you were in town. why were you here of all places? i ask girl why you are here and she says you are working. she points to a cardboard box on a shelf. it has your name scrawled on it, preceded by the words “I” and “love”. She asks if the box is mine, and if i think that you have seen it. embarrassed, i say it is not, and then turn the box around so that you can not see the words.

…

the lights dim, and the children are all lying in tiny sleeping bags, scattered about the floor. you and i lie beside each other on a blue plaid blanket spread out in the center. the blanket is small, so we are very close, on our backs. your head is tilted toward me and your hair is brushing my cheek. i turn my head and bury my face in your tangles. 

thinking the same thoughts, we both roll onto our sides, facing eachother. you slide your hand over my ribcage. our faces are so close i can feel the warmth radiating from your skin. you kiss me soft and deep. our hips are pressed together, bones touching. i can feel you between my thighs, clothed in thin white long-johns. my flesh is on fire. 

Quit that! Shreiks a voice above our heads. We shove each other away and the air instantly becomes ice. I close my eyes, and feel you leave. 

…

when i awake, it is bright and all of the children are gone. i am alone in the small room with the stern woman.

“where is my swan?” i ask her.

she laughs. “oh, he won’t be back here again. now go, get me a puppy.”

“a puppy?” i ask, thoroughly confused.

“yes. so that we can put it in stockings.”

i imagine stuffing the long legs of a yellow lab into a pair of pantyhose.

“we need to photograph the puppy in a stocking.” 

oh.

“go get one. perhaps you’ll see him on your way.” she snickers.

i know she is just teasing, but the thought of seeing you again excites me, so i go. wandering the cold, damp cobblestone streets, i search for hours. i examine the face of everyone i pass, hoping that they are you, but none of them are.

no one else could ever be you.

last night i dreamt that i walked out my front door onto a very high porch, and the city was so foggy that it looked like my house was surrounded by ocean.

i was at my grandmother’s old house; the one with brown shutters and a huge yard in the middle of a forest. I was walking towards the swingset at the top of the hill (which, in real life, i never understood why it was there because there was a lovely wooden swing which hung from the large oak tree that i always used instead). 

as i reached the top of the hill, i could see the long row of swings, each painted with one letter. from left to right, they read “J-E-F-F-M-A-N-G-U-M”. thinking that  was strange that someone would come to my grandmothers house to paint those letters on my swingset that i never used, i pulled out my camera to capture the image. as i knelt down to take the photograph, three children ran over and jumped onto the swings. i decided to wait until they left before taking the photograph. 

a moment later, the children were gone, but so was the swingset. in it’s place was a large wooden picnic table and a group of people. upon approaching the group, i recognized julian koster and will cullen hart. julian was standing beside a rack of sweaters, which he was selling. i said hello to him, and he began to speak about his day. suddenly, someone shoved me hard into julian’s shoulder. i apologized and tried to turn and see who it was, but i couldn’t move. it was as if some invisible hands were holding us against eachother. that’s when i knew it was sarah. feeling that i had figured her out, she let go and i said sorry to julian again, and walked away. 

i blinked, and the day turned to night. everyone was sitting at the giant picnic table, eating dinner. my boyfriend was making some sort of newspaper. the headline was written in a font that looked like vanilla frosting. there were strawberry licorice laces dangling from the top of the paper. he was drawing a picture of a hypodermic needle piercing a sun (sunshine fix reference in my dream!?). 

i walked over to a second, smaller picnic table beside the large one. there were a few people i did not know sitting there, along with pete erchick. i sat across from pete, beside someone who’s face i could not see, but i felt that it was john fernandes. i made a joke about how i always get stuck at the kid’s table during holiday dinners. 

suddenly, i became aware of another person who had been lingering near me the entire time. he was a plain man wearing a janitor’s outfit. i turned to pete to ask who he was, but before i could say a word, he gave me a look as if to say “if you speak of him, you will die”. i looked down at the table. 

the janitor man started walking off into the darkness. i glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention. everyone was engrossed in conversation. quietly, i snuck away from the table and followed the man. 

i followed him down the street, and around a corner, into an alley between two large brick buildings. he turned and looked straight into my eyes, turned back, and climbed up onto the flat bed of a strange looking truck. it was too dark to tell what sort of truck it was. he turned back towards me, and again, stared directly into my eyes. confused, i just stood there watching him. a light flashed on, and i could see that it was a garbage truck.

the dumpster was raised on large steel arms, lingering above the man’s head. i tried to say something to him, to tell him that it wasn’t safe, but i felt that he already knew. before i could make a sound, the dumpster came crashing down on top of him, crushing his bones and sending a waterfall of blood over the edges of the truck. the arms slowly lifted the dumpster back up, the metallic creaks piercing my eardrums. red sticky strings stretched from the bed of the truck to the bottom of the dumpster. i watched until the arms stopped moving, and turned to leave. as i walked back toward the street, i saw will hart watching me through the darkness. i no longer cared what he, or anyone else, thought of me. 

……………………………..

the streets were busy as i walked through the town. the sun began to rise and it grew unseasonably warm. i walked up the concrete sidewalk, my fingers grazing the metal hand rail, and turned the corner. the entrance to the shop was set back into the side of a large brick building. i could see a cloud of black swarming around inside the alcove. was it birds? it sounded more like bats, but it was the middle of the day. i cautiously took a few steps closer, and saw that it was, in fact, bats. i crouched down, and continued to approach them slowly. they started squealing and screeching and began to dart toward my head. fearing that these were not normal bats, i jumped backwards a few feet and ducked behind a stone half-wall.

the bats calmed down, and most of them perched themselves on the wall of the building. i attempted again to enter the shop, walking very slowly towards the door. i was only a few feet away when i heard a deafening hiss from behind me. i turned to see an overturned box in the corner, covered in black cats. they all were starting at me and showing their teeth. their eyes were all glowing as if i were shining a flashlight at their faces. i reached out to open the door, and all of the cats leapt at me, hissing and batting at my legs with their claws. 

i jumped over the black mass of fur, and ran out of the alcove, and back up the street. turning to look behind me as i ran, i saw the mob of cats, and the swarm of bats, both chasing after me. i ran faster, down the concrete sidewalk, up the hill, around the corner, and pounced over the metal railing into the grass. i stayed there for a minute, listening for the hissing and screaching. when everything fell silent, i peered over the edge of the wall. there was no black fur, no leathery wings. only people, walking, talking on cell phones, and going about their day. 

“fuck,” i thought to myself, “now where am i going to get my coffee.”

a tall, ramshackle house appeared as we pulled up the dirt driveway. you turned off the engine, and i stepped out of the car, shivering as the autumn air chilled my bones. i stood and tasted the leaves in the air, watching as you kicked aside the weeds that enveloped the front stoop. you opened the front door with little effort and we stepped inside. 

it was surprisingly bright, almost brighter than outside, and i could see ghosts on the yellowed walls where photographs used to hang. i followed you into the center of a very large room. i knew this had been the living room. i visualized the burnt sienna couch and the hand-carved wooden coffee table. the rug was an avacado shag that only covered half of the floor. the other half was bare wood planks. it looked as though one might fall right through. we didn’t speak. 

the only furniture in the room was a large mahogany wood table against the far wall. it was covered in books and papers and random articles of clothing. we approached it, and as if this was our entire reason for coming here, each took an end and began to drag it towards the door. we moved it a few inches before both being drawn to a closed door that was near the entry. wordlessly, we agreed to examine what was behind that door. 

although the house was very tall from the outside, inside appeared to only be two rooms; the very large living room, and this small room behind the mysterious door. you pushed the door open and stepped inside. it was darker than the other room, but still quite easy to see.  it was a bathroom. there were no lights or windows. a dull light seemed to emanate from an invisible source in the center of the room. 

i turned to look at the wall beside the door we entered through. there hung a large painting on canvas board, which had been extremely warped from decades of bath steam. i reached out to touch the soggy board just as a centipede slithered out from behind it. you must have seen it from across the room, because i heard you gasp, and under your breath, you said “what is that?”

it wasn’t a normal centipede. it had large scorpion like pincers on the end that seemed to be it’s front. i leaned in closer to examine it, but it scurried back up behind the painting before i could really see it. i pulled the canvas away from the wall, and thousands of smaller centipedes poured to the ground. i made an inhuman shriek and jumped back beside you. this is when you finally touched me.

i felt your arms wrap around me from behind. you smelled like a bonfire and your fleece jacket felt like rabbit fur. in that moment i forgot about all about the centipedes.

i don’t know how much time passed, and suddenly, we heard voices coming from the other room. i peeked around the corner and saw two grey haired ladies wandering around. their high heels clicked on the wooden boards. we decided to do what he’d come here for and then leave. 

back in the large room, we began to drag the heavy table again. deciding that it weighed too much, we brushed the dust from our hands, and headed toward the door. the old ladies were now in the bathroom. as we opened the front door, one of the ladies yelled to us “don’t forget your things now!”. i looked behind me to see a black, one piece bathing suit handing from the corner of the table. ‘i’ll get it next time’ i thought to myself. you took my hand, and we walked out into the grey autumn woods. 

(Source: of-smoke-and-honey)

The attic was filled with smoke, and the house was growing warm. i darted up the naked wood steps, holding my breath to avoid inhaling the thick grey air. Searching frantically for a path through all of the people, i pushed my way over to the cages where Nickee and George live. i grabbed George’s cage, because it is smaller, and yelled over the murmer of the crowd for someone to grab Nickee’s. No one responded. No one even seemed to notice that the room was burning. 

Holding George’s cage tight in both arms, i ran back down stairs and out the back door. My car was parked right in front of the house, but locked. I put the cage on the pavement and head back inside. On my way up the driveway, a young man is carrying an arm chair to the street. What a strange thing to try and save.

Inside, i looked around at the house packed with people. No one seemed to be concerned with the black clouds billowing down from the attic doorway. I ran back upstairs, but couldn’t find Nickee. i yelled again for someone to find him and bring him outside. the smoke was becoming so thick that i could no longer see the floor. i noticed my laptop beside me, and grabbed it to avoid losing all of my artwork files, and bolted back downstairs.

Shoving people out of the way, i fell to my knees and struggled to catch my breath. Suddenly, my throat felt as if it were filled with honey. i couldn’t speak, and my air passage was blocked. i crawled over the feet of the crowd, who was oblivious to my existence. There was one small opening in the mass of bodies, and i made my way to it. 

Dragging my gasping body, i pulled myself into the space. Then i realized the reason no one was standing there. The wooden floor boards had been cut away to reveal a perfect square hole in the ground. I leaned over the edge, and found myself staring into an endless black abyss. The thick substance in my throat was creeping onto the back of my tongue and i began to gag. My chest heaved and strings of yellow phlegm poured from my mouth, disappearing into the darkness below the floor. It seemed to unravel endlessly, and i had to tear the sticky, wet strings with my fingers to create breaks for breathing. i became restless with the situation quickly and decided to pull the strings from my throat manually, as coughing them up seemed to take forever. Eventually, my airway was clear and i could breathe again, though my lungs ached. Tears coated my eyelashes as i stared into the hole, wondering how the house was so filled with smoke when there were no flames. 

Last night, i dreampt that i was at his house, that ex boyfriend. i had to pick up some mail. i hadn’t been there in five years. there was a party happening, and the rooms were all packed with people. he took me into a bedroom. he was trying to kiss me, trying to fuck me. i just kept asking him questions and acting like i wasn’t aware of what he wanted. 

finally, i stood up and walked to the kitchen, gathered my mail, and headed for the door. a young girl wearing a UMass shirt stopped me and began preaching about something, i have no idea what. i told her ‘oh yeah sure i’ll go to the website’ and pushed past.

in the hallway, there was a line of people standing in pairs, waiting to go out the door. it was very bright outside. i saw you there. you were standing alone, wearing the red plaid jacket that you always wear. i wanted to say something casually, on my way out the door, but i couldn’t leave yet. my boyfriend was inside still. i went back and yelled for my boyfriend to hurry up. I saw my friend Rebecca stand up and hurry my way. i turned and went back toward you. i couldn’t think of any words to say, so i just kept walking back and forth past you. i never saw you look at me. i don’t think you even knew i was there. 

swarbles:

* i have a lot of dreams involving julian and trains.  a lot.  it’s really very strange.  let us recount the three i can most clearly remember.

• i had this dream last july: i dreamt that i was in an entirely glass enclosed train station.  the station overlooked the tracks, which turned sharply after the station and then went up a hill.  julian was there, along with a large crowd of people.  he was going over the instructions for one of his games that we were going to play.  this HUGENORMOUS train went by and the sound was so loud that it drowned his voice out, so he stopped explaining and simply stood and smiled while the engine shuttered past the building.  he started explaining again after it passed, but shortly after he did, people started yelling because the train was now moving in reverse down the hill at a high rate of speed and gaining momentum.  it was also in the process of derailing and heading straight towards the building.  the crowd broke into a rousing and rowdy rendition of the olivia tremor control’s “a peculiar noise called train director” and started to run away from the imminent accident.  but i stood.  i stood singing and watching the steel careening off the tracks, toward where i stood, and i was completely calm.  the crowd was screaming and running all around me, but no one was trying to push me along with them.  it was as though i was standing on some tall pillar and couldn’t be moved, but i wasn’t.  i was just stood amongst the mayhem.  at any rate, julian spots me and grabs my hand and says “MARIA WE HAVE TO GO.”  i hesitated.  i don’t know why.  everything seemed very still.  finally, my head made the connection that, yes, if i did stay where i was, i was going to die, and no, i did not really want to die (i just wanted to see what was going to happen), so we took off running.  the wheels were screeching against the tracks and the engine sounded like thunder and the glass shattered and there was this huge rush of heat that came in as the caboose smashed into the window and he tried to shelter me from the shards and impending death and then i woke up.
• in july of this year, i had a brief dream that we were trying to get to somewhere, but missed our train and had to sleep on benches in the train station.  he held my hand from across the aisle from the bench he was lying on.
• and then last night, i dreamt that he was playing a small show in a cafe on a corner in new york city.  a girl i’ve known since middle school was there.  we were speaking to a friend of his named nick, whom had apparently helped with some sort of caroling tour at some point in time.  julian started singing a song and leading everyone outside while distributing toys and toy instruments.  he saw me, smiled, handed me a slide whistle.  i was singing too.  i don’t know what the song was, but it was definitely a music tapes song (this is now the second music tapes song that i have invented subconsciously in less than a week [imaginary symphonies, indeed]).  we sat out on the corner, which was next to a train depot.  there was a pile of geodes.  i was sitting behind a few rows of people, but he spoke only to me.  some creepy guy laid down between my legs and i scrambled away to sit next to julian.  i handed him half cracked open pink and blue geodes.  we looked in them together, there were acorns inside the pink ones and snowflakes inside the blue ones.  they were beautiful.  he looked me in the eyes, the way he always does, and smiled softly, the way he always does.  it was decided that we should go to someone’s apartment, since it was cold (my legs were very cold, i remember them being so very cold.  i was wearing a skirt).  andso we went to board the next train, but the doors closed before i was able to get on (he had boarded).  suddenly the sidewalk lurched and had changed into a conveyor belt and rushed those of us who had missed the train (there were maybe two or three other people who hadn’t gotten on) to the next station.  the doors open and i stepped on and he was so concerned about me having missed the train and was so happy that i had caught up to him, he took my hand.

and that’s all i can remember.  a lot of dreams of trains and hand holding.  actually, i have a lot of dreams about his hands in general.  it’s quite curious, once you start to read things in online dream dictionaries about trains and hands.  if you believe in that sort of thing….

havssol:

I had a dream that I was attending a masturbation class with Björk. I am not kidding. This by far the weirdest dream I’ve ever had. I also dreamt a lot about scary looking mannequins and I think it has to do with the fact that I ate right before bed.

But I mean, are there even masturbation classes in real life? Isn’t that kind of a personal thing?

i had a very strange dream last night about a music club in Canada where there were seals that came ashore for you to cuddle with, but the seals were also advertising tools and would stalk you/hurt you if you didn’t see the movie they were advertising…

- Brigitte F.

I dreamt that you came to visit me, late at night, in my cabin. You brought me gifts - some vintage dresses. You seemed happy to see me. We walked through the forest and found a clearing covered in giant blueberries. Tip-toeing, you carefully made your way through the clearing to a tree which bore “hundred dollar apples”. You plucked one and began to make fresh juice from it for me. 

As we walked back to the cabin, you put your arm around my waist. The warmth of your skin made my insides melt. We climbed into bed, just holding each other and talking softly. My fingertips ached to feel every inch of your flesh, but I was afraid to move for fear that you’d suddenly get up and leave. Finally, I slid my body on top of yours, and you kissed me. 

Upon waking, I could not believe it wasn’t real. Never before have I dreampt so vividly. I can still smell the apples and the cool autumn air. I can still feel your hand on my hip and your lips in my hair.

(Source: of-smoke-and-honey)

we are sitting on the edge of an above ground pool, facing the forest, our back to the water. you are saying words to me, i am concentrating on the cool water enveloping my right hand. suddenly, i feel a warmth on my pinkie. you’re fingers are touching mine underwater. an early autumn breeze rushes through my hair and i smile because i know you are smiling too.

While taking a nap, I had a dream where I believe I was on a road trip driving through farm land in Kansas, but I’m not exactly sure why as the details are fuzzy. The car I was in passed what was labeled as a Motel 6 but then the tour guide announced over the car stereo that it was originally a prison. Don’t ask why there was a tour guide on the car stereo, because I can not answer that! Skip to the interior of the prison/hotel (once again, I don’t know how or why I was there) and it was like a summer camp of sorts for adults. As I toured the facility, I noticed how the locker room was converted from some sort of torture chamber. In one bathroom stall, there was some type of slot high up in the wall that was apparently once intended for dropping very large rocks on the prisoner while they were in solitary confinement. Another room had a machine that was once used for pressing the air out of prisoners who misbehaved. All of the “campers” were already showering and getting dressed for the nightly entertainment when I arrived, and there wasn’t adequate time for me to shower before the “show” started, and this deeply concerned me because I REALLY needed to bathe for some reason. I was ushered out of the locker room while begging to be allowed to shower, and taken to an outdoor area that was set up with a makeshift stage that had a curtain of old bedsheets behind it. The entire outdoor area was enclosed with 20 foot high walls made out of cinderblocks that had barbed wire at the top. The back of the outdoor “room” was lined with picnic tables, and I noticed you were there talking to a slew of people you apparently knew. This surprised me because not only was I confused as to why I was in Kansas, but you certainly had no reason be there. I sat down at your picnic table and you were happy to see me, but your friends were all snobby hipsters and immediately hated me and were happy to express that fact. Then the entertainment began, and it was Babes in Toyland playing a song that I forget the name of since it’s been well over 10 years since I’ve listened to them. I shouted “ooh, Babes in Toyland!” and your snobby hipster friends scoffed and told me very impolitely that it was some other band. I disagreed and tried to get closer to see for sure if they were indeed Babes in Toyland, and then my phone rang, thus waking me up.

Ok. LAST night I dreamed I had dreads. But everyone kept touching them. And they fell out. And when I went to the doctor he told me it was bc …I let my friends put their grubby mitts on my live dreads (you know how youre not supposed to touch stalactites because your fingers leave oil residue and it kills them?). Then he yelled at me and left me bald and sad. 

- submitted by raven