my monkied brain (katekat1010) wrote,
my monkied brain
katekat1010

I dreamed about crack houses and killing a man with a pointed piece of metal

I had to get this down, since it's the longest dream I've remembered (also probably the strangest) . . .

We'd gone to visit J in San Francisco, staying at his place that was a compound filled with hippies somewhere out along a dirt road.  They left me, my boy who always leaves me for his other boy, and I found my father and an abandoned puppy that I had to adopt and put in the front seat of the convertible.  I was driving N's car to bug him for going with J.  They came back high on speed that for some reason they didn't share - left me feeling left out and knowing that they were buzzing a thousand miles an hour faster than I was.  The compound turned into a crack house and I went to get my puppy and the car, to bring it around to the other side of the house and have something to play with and take care of.


We'd gone to visit J in San Francisco, staying at his place that was a compound filled with hippies somewhere out along a dirt road.  They left me, my boy who always leaves me for his other boy, and I found my father and an abandoned puppy that I had to adopt and put in the front seat of the convertible.  I was driving N's car to bug him for going with J.  They came back high on speed that for some reason they didn't share - left me feeling left out and knowing that they were buzzing a thousand miles an hour faster than I was.  The compound turned into a crack house and I went to get my puppy and the car, to bring it around to the other side of the house and have something to play with and take care of.

My dad, I think, told me it was time for the family reunion, and suddenly I'm waiting with the rest of the younger kids in a cave-like Victorian living room around a table while my grandmother hands out colored ostrich eggs she's painted by hand.  But the markings look like patches of crayon, and we're supposed to crack the eggs open.

They tell me that I need to get my other grandmother (the one that I don't remember ever having in real life) another drink, even though her cordial glass is full of some clear alcohol that I don't recognize, and her highball glass has some amber liquid that's thicker than whisky but just as potent.  I take that glass into the kitchen, though, because I'm an obedient girl even though I don't think she needs any more.  I get to use the device that measures how much you're supposed to put in, though - it's a small oblong piece metal, like a tiny carabineer that sits on the edge of the glass and tells you how high to fill it - and I'm pleased when I put it on the edge it tells me I don't have to fill the glass anymore.  I take it back out to grandma and put it down for her, and find that I've somehow spilled it in a brown puddle onto the table, but that nobody notices and I'm just glad that it means she'll have less to drink.

The party moves, or shifts, turning into my father's house on Surita, where I sit in the cave like living room and tell my two youngest sisters that they should come wine tasting with me someday, because they've never really seen where I grew up but I would like them to.  They give me false smiles and patented "that sounds like a great idea" replies, and I know they won't be coming.  I would've invited my other sister but she just adopted a baby, and I can see her across the room looking hurt that she wasn't included in the conversation.  I want to tell her then, but there's some urgent need for us at the hospital, something to do with the new baby, and so we're there before I can say anything.

Everyone begins to go into the baby's hospital room and it's now I seize my chance to grab my sister's arm and pull her into another room down the hallway to apologize.  Some orderly follows us but I'm not concerned with that, only with the need to tell her why I didn't invite her as soon as I can.  I'm finally getting the apology out as the door begins to close behind us in the room and the orderly comes in, in his blue scrubs with a crazed look, and somehow I know he's on speed and he's muttering about attacking us with these small metal spikes that he's got in one hand.  I recognize his intention and pull one out of his hand to jam it into his forehead, and I have this vision of falling onto the ground on top of him, not seeing him at all, just the wall as I go down, but having the sense memory of raising my hand over and over to jab it into his forehead and make sure he stayed down and wouldn't hurt me, or more importantly, my sister. 

And then, in that way of dreams and madmen, I split perspectives, on the one hand I'm my sister watching me get interrogated by the cops, and yet I'm myself telling the cops the self defense story while they search my purse.  For some reason both of me are equally afraid the drugs J got are going to be in the bottom somewhere, and relieved to know that they aren't.  The me that isn't getting interrogated cringes though, as the interrogated-me begins to embroider her story, filling it with false fake outs by the dead man and her own goofy-television inspired moves.  And then she looks beyond the main doorway of the hospital to see a crowd gathered there, trying to get in but held back by policemen, with N standing at the front, kind of haloed by light they way they do that in the movies sometimes to make sure you're looking at the right person in the crowd.  And somehow I know he wants to get to me but won't, because the cops will arrest him too, because he's got the drugs with him, and I want, more than anything, for him to be safe.

To get away we're in the car, N and I, and trying to drive with Maija on the phone, in another car on a freeway we're next to, trying to get out of town and get to Austin, but she keeps taking the other onramps and moving further and further away from us, until we have to disconnect the phone because it doesn't really matter any more, that's how far away she's gotten. And we drive into the country side, where there are curving hills and that golden color of grass that I once hated but now kind of associate with the entire country, bushes and trees making green dents in the blond-covered countryside.

And I'm pretty sure that's when I woke up.
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