Black dogs market teeth escape shoes

I was cleaning out a desk and I had a sneaking suspicion it had old food. I lifted a layer of papers and there was old bologna slices of pepperoni and rancid white shredded cheese. It stank. I cleaned it all away. Yuck!  I came around to the desk and there was a woman offering me her husband’s teeth. She was striding somewhere on the second level so I met someone familiar but not quite sure it was Michel. He seems to fit the essence of the person though. He offered me the teeth explaining how they could file the ridges down. They looked too big for my mouth. I took them, and as I walked away I wondered how I would get from where I was to the appointment in Philadelphia on the 11th. There was somewhere south I had to go too. I thought momentarily of the time I used to drive up and down the eastern seaboard in my $50 dollar car. Then I would drive six hours alone, or thirteen, on a whim.  But now this would be difficult.

I took the teeth.

I was at the table with the scientists when I asked a question that they were egotistically proud they had studied but not concerned with disseminating it, or discussing it. It was a pretty woman who had studied ethnopaleobotany I think. I didn’t get any information from her. I was down in the cement ally ways with the kids and the animals. A gorilla plucked a child who was being hurt up over the gate like a bag of trash. He wanted to speak to a man. I went down further into the ally. Black dogs barked all around me. I tried to reason with them, talking to them. I knew I had to get out of there.

Up in an office there was a travolta president. There was a handsome man in a suit who wanted to see me. There was an elevator you could press worn buttons on. They were pearlized and not lit up. I read CHILE and VIETNAM and I picked Chile not really expecting to be there when I pressed the button. Still everyone walking down the corridor was speaking Spanish. I turned around to go back to the elevator.

My escape from the black dogs I was running to a brown box and turning a right hand key and a latch opened and I drove away.

At the edge of the city Daniel Grafton was there and he gave me a long hug. It was sunrise.”Welcome to Baltimore,” I said. I parked in the middle of the road. But then I moved the car flush against a building and was unpacking. A hand reached through the gap between the building and the car for my bag. I couldn’t go back, I was cut off from the road, from the moment just before. Victoria Burkhardt was there. I asked if I could keep her black shoes. Sexy, Slinky Style she said or some other Es alteration. They were four inch heels with gold circles going up the side. I would never wear something like that.

A hand was rubbing mine softly…it was Joseph waking me up.

little horn is born

I’m floating above a white room filled with people in white robes. There’s chanting and ritualistic motions are happening — they are moving in arranged patterns, as if they are tracing occult symbols with their feet. I can’t see the gender of the robed people, they all either have hoods covering their heads or they’re bald.
Voices start to raise from inside my head. They are murmuring, and I’m told that I am privy to this ritual because of my work with children — that children are actually an alien consciousness, that they are the bringers of the new world. This wasn’t in some lame “the children are our future” kinda way; but rather that their wild, uninhibited imaginations unleashed will usher forth the dawning new world and devour the old adult world in its wake.
I am about to watch one of the attendees undergo a transformation of consciousness. A larger robed person comes into the room, this one is male, he is surrounded and centered. He begins to shake, turns his head upwards and stares at me steadily in the face, his body beneath his head shaking franticly. It looks like a painful metamorphosis, but his face shows no sign of affliction. His pupils dilate past his iris and is eyelids begin to widen.
Mine open. ♨

a girl falling from a plane

I am still kind of in shock. I watched the plane transform as it passed two other planes. It roared and broke. Some one said “that’s not normal” It looked like bodies were falling. A body plummeted toward and smacked against the wall of the pool and into it. I raced toward the steps. I was on the median between two pools. I looked down at the girl. Someone offered a red foam board for transport. She was small and  conscious but not even bleeding. She was shaking. Her legs kept sticking straight up. I am dying, she said. She writhed painfully. I woke.

In the little alcove a man with brownish skin talked. The store had changed its name. It had been Trohve in hamden. Up a back stair. A woman with a child pressed so tightly into her chest wriggled into form from the sagging twin bed. Another appeared behind her, but it was a manish form that hugged me when I told him I speak arabic. It was odd. As We left to go get into the utility truuck, I saw Rupert Wolonski, head down. I said goodbye. The side of the truck said “Mannslers” or some other Germanic thing. It was the Olde tyme writing style that made me think I was part of a german company. I got into the passenger seat. The dark skinned cabbi got to the intersection again. He wanted to take me to the new side of town andl eave me there. I was indignant. What this again!? Take me to the other side of the highway and leave me by the bus stop! But still, of he goes to the left hand turn lane that takes me toward the new part of town.

Earlier I skipped a class. I watched the time 12:10, almost 12:15 I thought. I sat with my high school friend Chris H. He kept leaning toward me. He reminded me of some earlier kiss which really had never happened. I walked down fantastic stairs of some incredible design. The shag had tubes of color flaps. It was remarkable, though I don’t remember what we were saying. I was in a motel room. I was walking through a doorway, not locking it.  Musical instruments play behind him. He talked about his girlfriend. I found myself at 433 West Creek Rd. or 6266 West Creek Rd where I grew up. I was upstairs. I was reading a poster. I placed two spray bottles near Williams pillow for the cats. My pants must have fallen down. I saw a naked girl in a room laughing. There was a sauna. It was an odd misplaced sexual energy.

Elbe unfinished

Dreams are barely linear. How can I describe how we talked of Elbe, its desolate carved mountainous contours with only a train station running through. Even then I was walking in a plot of weedy land, seeing it for its potential, thinking of composting inside the abandoned race car seat hulk.  Big skunk cabbage leaves everywhere. I wandered in this solitude; sheered off by entering the house to hear her crying for me. She crawled and hung by her fingers from the red tool-chest with stickers.  Then she was the size of a fist and cradled in a small hammock. The baby in fever beside me; in the dream I turned off the hot spray of air and a cold shower dripped onto her wet face. I lay there in a naked embrace with the trio of our generation, for her father had joined us.   The lights came on as the bikers returned. Carl, Lars, and a third black-clothed carabiner-wearing crew member were in the room. Lars was finally ready to talk.

He took me somewhere and said.

“Someone suggested I write this down, so I did.”

He had a black and white composition notebook from which he read, “When I got there he was covered in blood and was flushing the face down the toilet.”

I stopped him there. “Was there a body?”

Lars sort of froze, expecting the words to speak for themselves, without question.

I wonder now, did I get off the train in Elbe once, and walk the brown soil, brown facade of a town, emptied of its old mining families; like a dusty set of “Bride comes to Yellow Sky.”  All I can picture is a combination of images accrued from reading about burnt firestorm scenery North of Berkley, and from the hills of Seattle seen from a plane.  And why would Lars hide something so awful?  I did not sit and listen to what he had written unfortunately, and since I was dreaming, I will never know the content of that book, nor what face was flushed away.

&~~

So who is this then?

The tall woman was seven feet tall. She was walking. I kneeled down to gather a handful of white flowers and came back inside to put them in a jar which needed to be fiddled with or cleaned.  Inside the brown skinned man’s car with him like a spouse only we must have been somewhere where you drive from the left side. He was really happy to be in his car and he rubbed the ceiling. He had drinks to mix in the back. It was a strange thought to be married to a man I couldn’t remember being intimate with.

In a house looking for a room for the little boy, there was a room with old grey paintings, down steps and somewhere I knew he would feel creepy.  Once I got to go to sleep in one of the three beds, a man with brown arms wrapped himself around my back strangely in desire. He was no one I knew. I was so relieved to see my little infant child crawling up beside the bed. I gathered her up. Then someone came in with guns. The ones out of the beds were in trouble.  They were chained up. It was really disturbing.

&~~

a game

I am in a bedroom. It’s cast in an orange hue. In front of me someone is sitting at a desk with his/her back towards me. To my left there is a large bed. There is a little girl and little boy playing a game on the bed. I don’t know them. I’ve never seen the game before; but it strikes me as being ancient. The game pieces are made up of many-sided, hollow geometric shapes. There’s about 5 of them, maybe 6; and they are as big as the kids’ hands. The little girl begins to explain the game to me, though without vocal language. The game isn’t competitive. It involves transforming one of the shapes so that it opens up and another smaller shape can be enveloped within it. The transforming of the shape is done through efforts partially physical and partially psychic. She begins the demonstration — and when she merges 2 of the shapes together, I awaken. ♨