10-26-2012, 12:01 AM
10/24-25/12
Obama Drama
When I began sleep, I was as I was in high school. I was sitting in the old gym, on the bleachers, having a long debate discussion with a friend like I always used to do. I still remember the actual debate we had. This friend was a very conservative, ahh...He didn’t watch TV shows like normal people, he watched Jim and Tamy fey baker and televangelist shows, TBN network. Very smart. Also, unlike me, very gay...although he wouldn’t even admit it in his own mind...part of the reason he was so angry. I knew, somehow, so id often bring up gay rights, Concepts of seeing and freedom from expectation... and he would denounce it, but it would be a conversation not yelling...but my making the effort, I think, when he was so messed up, is what made him seek to be my friend. That wasn’t what we talked about, that day, or politics or religion. It was...alien life. If life could even exist on other planets, and if so, what that meant for christian faith. After hours of arguing, and again in the dream, I got him to concede that microbial life might be almost inevitable due to functioning of chemistry, but that proves nothing to him. Still...it was an inching of his rigidity. I took it then as a small healing almost, and did again in the dream...but I saw even clearer, how that crack opened other cracks that blossomed with life in time. But they blossomed, in part, in the cracks of my own...dreams.
One of our history teachers, and aged hippy, the guy that ran all the academic competitions I used to take part in like academic decathlon, etc, kinda let me run a bit wild. In the sense that he would let me use the blackboard to explain physics, or any topic, and just sit listening and disusing things, before the end of class, things i of course didn’t learn in any book. I used to be more detailed. Sorceric things even, although at the time I claimed to be an atheist...even though I certainly was not I just didn’t have a better word for what I was. This teacher...he had a full scholarship to award from the College of William and Mary...this teacher was my friend for years. Was everyone’s favorite teacher. He told me about it, had me get my application in order etc. But then a few months before graduation....he stopped talking to me. And never told me he had given it to somebody else...my friend. I found out at the ceremony. So...after I was over, he came up to me and asked if he knew why he did it. His son was a classmate, and heard I had made a joke about him. I actually made a joke about an artist, it got mangled and his son and I didn’t get along that well. He knew, when I explained quietly, that I was being honest. He looked stricken, and said well its done. And it was...done. I cant, now, although at the time I didn’t let it bug me, it wasn’t in my nature for such things to bug me...cant help but thing how life might have been different with an Ivy league education (for free) vs what I ended up doing.
But for my friend, it really did help him. Away from his small town environment and parents, the artwork of Robert Mapplethorpe made him admit his nature. And he still did go on to be a priest, or pastor...in one of the liberal protestant denominations and last I heard was a happy, openly gay bishop of some renown. So...good on him. One of the reasons my mom and I got in an argument, is she brought that teacher up, and I blurted my resentment, and she said you never told me...how was I to know? Like I had harmed her...i didn’t even get upset. So it was coming up for recap I guess first things first that was a buried one. Also, when we argued, my mom reminded me she got me a transfer to Her school, Pitzer, and a scholarship, and I refused to transfer because i was captain of the debate team, had student government etc. So its not like I didn’t have other options. And I know, change one thing, and maybe people now I care about I would never have known, etc etc. Cant say its better, actually, when ive seen me get what I think I want by spirit, the outcome is usually not only worse, but tragically wrong somehow. But when one is sorry for themselves, in some corner inside, they often don’t really care about such facts. Also, I mentioned the college in Valencia dream, guess that was the night before. The old Templar/Spanish noble/king...with the same name as the city...Valencia. As boothsby (Of star trek fame), he asked me if “didn’t I think the lords college” there in the dream city, might be a better quality education then some hick town on a backwater part of the planet. And then I saw the next step...and it was true, and made me laugh. He also used my “Tonal Phone” against me, how much space would I thing I had from that now...id never be off the phone. Certainly not enough to spend so much time in different attentions, and writing, and stopping to be quiet inside. Full wallet, impoverished awareness etc was kinda broad ranging.
So it tied back to that. It also ties into the next, more narrative part of my dreaming.
Obama Clause is coming to town! Do I have to see him again. Not on his red tricycle, no in his full power. It was a very realistic dream. I was contacted that I might want to go. I am very broke. Nothing at all in the dream wallet. How does one be a proper supplicant? Supporter? They carry signs. So I made two quite appropriate signs I thought. But on a “union” jacket, covered the bases. The president of the university I graduated from, sent me the message, and another administrator at the time now in politics. That it might help me out my pickle if I went and shook his hand talked to him. Well, my finger had been throbbing, my left index finger, glowing one of them, ET style, before bed so maybe shake with that hand I thought I don’t know. Well, I was going, it wasn’t far, in the small town a quick stop. I drive to the place and get out...and its a long wait till he comes, with police eon hand, road closed of etc. Actually, there aren’t many people here, more press and police then people who came. I go into small Asian fast food joint, open my wallet and realize its completely drained of funds, and my bank account isn’t much better. That’s why i showed up. So I cant even sit and eat greasy noodles. Or rather, its best not to waste energy on that. I’m thinking maybe I should wave my signs im so proud of working on, but nah im tired ill pop up when the cameras start clicking. So I sit, on a curb, next to my signs And fall into sleep.
In the dream in the dream, im in the university presidents office, the real one, from a memory. We aren’t talking about the event. That man was very proud of the schools Etruscan pottery collection. A bit of it was in the campus museum, but most of it was in his office in earthquake proof shelving along one wall. I was always drawn to the pieces, and, in real life, he was always happy to spend five minutes pointing out the pieces to me and chatting about them. That’s usually how wed start our meetings. I liked him. One year id be the student rep for the diversity committee, the next year the college republicans...and maybe that same yer maybe the college democrats, this club that club. I was always taking on different rolls, but keeping the friends from each so it wasn’t like walking out of one place and joining a new one. I know, from our talks, he found that strange and interesting, and we talked allot...about rolls...again. But in the dream, unlike real life, he let me hold a few of the pieces. I was drawn to three. A dancing woman, another had a man playing a flute, and the last one had sphinx. He really encouraged me to run my fingers over them, "taste" each piece, then he put them back. Then a sound woke me back to the street scene.
The secret service had arrived, taking positions Campaign staff as well///they are lining the people up, to look like a larger crowd...like two deep. The president will shake the hand of every other person, and exchange a few words. As this is being set up, the university president, and some state level political guys, and a senator (Hello Barbara boxer lol) show up as well, getting ready to mug for the cameras. My signs are good to keep. I’m feeling pretty good you know, Did the signs, showed up, waited. Good things got to come from all that change in my routine. President was coming in his full authority, and i was visiting him....it wasn’t me (and others)being asked for (something specific or general) for once. I even refrained from cracking jokes at the secret cervix …. err.... service guys. Didn’t even yank their chains for a change. And then the university president sees me, and walks up, we speak a bit, then hes walks away in a crowd of political people, presidents motorcade is pulling up. He pauses, and speaks back to me “I hope you of all people realize how hard this was for me to arrange”
I said yea...what did it cost...ten million right? He nodded his head seriously, and then was whisked away. I hold up my signs, one in each hand...im wondering which I should drop when its time to shake his hand. Bu then the secret cervix...err service guys, when everyone else is out of view, kinda move me to the back row of the “crowd” I say wait, I need to shake his hand (the index finger like before sleep feels like it son fire) and we have something important to say. One agent looks at the other, and says “Cervix says!.....BZZZZZt wrong answer” and laugh. Gee, I guess they were still sore. Good “family feud” reference though. Well, this fucking sucks. What a waste of time. And my damn finger is absolutely throbbing now. Screw it im out of here im waking up.
And I do. And I lay in bed quite grumpy for a few minutes. And my damn finger feels like it going to pop like a horror movie from the pressure. I get the inspiration. To touch myself...good touch. No, not that kind of touch. I, still in bed, touch around one side of my chest and start drawing...what I see. What I saw. The figures from the Etruscan pottery. One side of the chest gets the dancing woman, the other the man playing the flute. And my belly gets the sphinx. And then...the blood is no longer rushing in my ears, im still grouchy...their loss...maybe Mitt Romney or the Easter bunny or Blackbeard will be by I still have my signs ready. But whats that smell...eggs and bacon cooking. Its been...along time since ive been up early enough to smell...brunch. I’m also completely energized now, not tired. Well screw it, one only need two hours sleep anyway. So I get up, have some bacon and eggs, start my day before night for a change, talk to some people, on the computer...and take a long nap in the evening. So if I wanted to be some fake as Glass half Full Pollyanna over it, it worked out great. But screw that, sometimes I kind alike to be grouchy. I also could...think back to what the old man told me...reminded me...of forks and the tonal phone etc. But that too, would be making lemon-aid out of lemons. So ill reserve my grouchiness, and enjoy it, knowing full well it goes straight to my thighs...and I will most likely be rick rolled as a result. Aint life grand? I guess the orphan Annie is is a good alternative choice for being Pollyanna. It beats the story of Ricky, that’s for sure.
~ fin.
Obama Drama
When I began sleep, I was as I was in high school. I was sitting in the old gym, on the bleachers, having a long debate discussion with a friend like I always used to do. I still remember the actual debate we had. This friend was a very conservative, ahh...He didn’t watch TV shows like normal people, he watched Jim and Tamy fey baker and televangelist shows, TBN network. Very smart. Also, unlike me, very gay...although he wouldn’t even admit it in his own mind...part of the reason he was so angry. I knew, somehow, so id often bring up gay rights, Concepts of seeing and freedom from expectation... and he would denounce it, but it would be a conversation not yelling...but my making the effort, I think, when he was so messed up, is what made him seek to be my friend. That wasn’t what we talked about, that day, or politics or religion. It was...alien life. If life could even exist on other planets, and if so, what that meant for christian faith. After hours of arguing, and again in the dream, I got him to concede that microbial life might be almost inevitable due to functioning of chemistry, but that proves nothing to him. Still...it was an inching of his rigidity. I took it then as a small healing almost, and did again in the dream...but I saw even clearer, how that crack opened other cracks that blossomed with life in time. But they blossomed, in part, in the cracks of my own...dreams.
One of our history teachers, and aged hippy, the guy that ran all the academic competitions I used to take part in like academic decathlon, etc, kinda let me run a bit wild. In the sense that he would let me use the blackboard to explain physics, or any topic, and just sit listening and disusing things, before the end of class, things i of course didn’t learn in any book. I used to be more detailed. Sorceric things even, although at the time I claimed to be an atheist...even though I certainly was not I just didn’t have a better word for what I was. This teacher...he had a full scholarship to award from the College of William and Mary...this teacher was my friend for years. Was everyone’s favorite teacher. He told me about it, had me get my application in order etc. But then a few months before graduation....he stopped talking to me. And never told me he had given it to somebody else...my friend. I found out at the ceremony. So...after I was over, he came up to me and asked if he knew why he did it. His son was a classmate, and heard I had made a joke about him. I actually made a joke about an artist, it got mangled and his son and I didn’t get along that well. He knew, when I explained quietly, that I was being honest. He looked stricken, and said well its done. And it was...done. I cant, now, although at the time I didn’t let it bug me, it wasn’t in my nature for such things to bug me...cant help but thing how life might have been different with an Ivy league education (for free) vs what I ended up doing.
But for my friend, it really did help him. Away from his small town environment and parents, the artwork of Robert Mapplethorpe made him admit his nature. And he still did go on to be a priest, or pastor...in one of the liberal protestant denominations and last I heard was a happy, openly gay bishop of some renown. So...good on him. One of the reasons my mom and I got in an argument, is she brought that teacher up, and I blurted my resentment, and she said you never told me...how was I to know? Like I had harmed her...i didn’t even get upset. So it was coming up for recap I guess first things first that was a buried one. Also, when we argued, my mom reminded me she got me a transfer to Her school, Pitzer, and a scholarship, and I refused to transfer because i was captain of the debate team, had student government etc. So its not like I didn’t have other options. And I know, change one thing, and maybe people now I care about I would never have known, etc etc. Cant say its better, actually, when ive seen me get what I think I want by spirit, the outcome is usually not only worse, but tragically wrong somehow. But when one is sorry for themselves, in some corner inside, they often don’t really care about such facts. Also, I mentioned the college in Valencia dream, guess that was the night before. The old Templar/Spanish noble/king...with the same name as the city...Valencia. As boothsby (Of star trek fame), he asked me if “didn’t I think the lords college” there in the dream city, might be a better quality education then some hick town on a backwater part of the planet. And then I saw the next step...and it was true, and made me laugh. He also used my “Tonal Phone” against me, how much space would I thing I had from that now...id never be off the phone. Certainly not enough to spend so much time in different attentions, and writing, and stopping to be quiet inside. Full wallet, impoverished awareness etc was kinda broad ranging.
So it tied back to that. It also ties into the next, more narrative part of my dreaming.
Obama Clause is coming to town! Do I have to see him again. Not on his red tricycle, no in his full power. It was a very realistic dream. I was contacted that I might want to go. I am very broke. Nothing at all in the dream wallet. How does one be a proper supplicant? Supporter? They carry signs. So I made two quite appropriate signs I thought. But on a “union” jacket, covered the bases. The president of the university I graduated from, sent me the message, and another administrator at the time now in politics. That it might help me out my pickle if I went and shook his hand talked to him. Well, my finger had been throbbing, my left index finger, glowing one of them, ET style, before bed so maybe shake with that hand I thought I don’t know. Well, I was going, it wasn’t far, in the small town a quick stop. I drive to the place and get out...and its a long wait till he comes, with police eon hand, road closed of etc. Actually, there aren’t many people here, more press and police then people who came. I go into small Asian fast food joint, open my wallet and realize its completely drained of funds, and my bank account isn’t much better. That’s why i showed up. So I cant even sit and eat greasy noodles. Or rather, its best not to waste energy on that. I’m thinking maybe I should wave my signs im so proud of working on, but nah im tired ill pop up when the cameras start clicking. So I sit, on a curb, next to my signs And fall into sleep.
In the dream in the dream, im in the university presidents office, the real one, from a memory. We aren’t talking about the event. That man was very proud of the schools Etruscan pottery collection. A bit of it was in the campus museum, but most of it was in his office in earthquake proof shelving along one wall. I was always drawn to the pieces, and, in real life, he was always happy to spend five minutes pointing out the pieces to me and chatting about them. That’s usually how wed start our meetings. I liked him. One year id be the student rep for the diversity committee, the next year the college republicans...and maybe that same yer maybe the college democrats, this club that club. I was always taking on different rolls, but keeping the friends from each so it wasn’t like walking out of one place and joining a new one. I know, from our talks, he found that strange and interesting, and we talked allot...about rolls...again. But in the dream, unlike real life, he let me hold a few of the pieces. I was drawn to three. A dancing woman, another had a man playing a flute, and the last one had sphinx. He really encouraged me to run my fingers over them, "taste" each piece, then he put them back. Then a sound woke me back to the street scene.
The secret service had arrived, taking positions Campaign staff as well///they are lining the people up, to look like a larger crowd...like two deep. The president will shake the hand of every other person, and exchange a few words. As this is being set up, the university president, and some state level political guys, and a senator (Hello Barbara boxer lol) show up as well, getting ready to mug for the cameras. My signs are good to keep. I’m feeling pretty good you know, Did the signs, showed up, waited. Good things got to come from all that change in my routine. President was coming in his full authority, and i was visiting him....it wasn’t me (and others)being asked for (something specific or general) for once. I even refrained from cracking jokes at the secret cervix …. err.... service guys. Didn’t even yank their chains for a change. And then the university president sees me, and walks up, we speak a bit, then hes walks away in a crowd of political people, presidents motorcade is pulling up. He pauses, and speaks back to me “I hope you of all people realize how hard this was for me to arrange”
I said yea...what did it cost...ten million right? He nodded his head seriously, and then was whisked away. I hold up my signs, one in each hand...im wondering which I should drop when its time to shake his hand. Bu then the secret cervix...err service guys, when everyone else is out of view, kinda move me to the back row of the “crowd” I say wait, I need to shake his hand (the index finger like before sleep feels like it son fire) and we have something important to say. One agent looks at the other, and says “Cervix says!.....BZZZZZt wrong answer” and laugh. Gee, I guess they were still sore. Good “family feud” reference though. Well, this fucking sucks. What a waste of time. And my damn finger is absolutely throbbing now. Screw it im out of here im waking up.
And I do. And I lay in bed quite grumpy for a few minutes. And my damn finger feels like it going to pop like a horror movie from the pressure. I get the inspiration. To touch myself...good touch. No, not that kind of touch. I, still in bed, touch around one side of my chest and start drawing...what I see. What I saw. The figures from the Etruscan pottery. One side of the chest gets the dancing woman, the other the man playing the flute. And my belly gets the sphinx. And then...the blood is no longer rushing in my ears, im still grouchy...their loss...maybe Mitt Romney or the Easter bunny or Blackbeard will be by I still have my signs ready. But whats that smell...eggs and bacon cooking. Its been...along time since ive been up early enough to smell...brunch. I’m also completely energized now, not tired. Well screw it, one only need two hours sleep anyway. So I get up, have some bacon and eggs, start my day before night for a change, talk to some people, on the computer...and take a long nap in the evening. So if I wanted to be some fake as Glass half Full Pollyanna over it, it worked out great. But screw that, sometimes I kind alike to be grouchy. I also could...think back to what the old man told me...reminded me...of forks and the tonal phone etc. But that too, would be making lemon-aid out of lemons. So ill reserve my grouchiness, and enjoy it, knowing full well it goes straight to my thighs...and I will most likely be rick rolled as a result. Aint life grand? I guess the orphan Annie is is a good alternative choice for being Pollyanna. It beats the story of Ricky, that’s for sure.
~ fin.