Archive for November, 2001

November 28th, 2001

» hogwarts

Stephanie and I were at Hogwarts Academy. We were in the main hall, waiting for the announcement about who had won the Quidditch Cup, except we were skating in a circle (the floor was ice) and tapping hockey sticks down. It was announced that Draco Malfoy won, and all of us in Gryffindor were pretty pissed about that, so our sticks turned into very sharp steel and we broke through the ice with them. So we were all swimming, but I thought at least the water wasn’t cold since it was a movie. We began swimming toward this hall/drain type thing. Going through it, we discovered the entire school was flooded.

The next portion of the dream (and it was a significant portion) was spent swimming through hallways, slipping through passages, and getting thoroughly lost. When we finally found dry ground we were far beneath the school, in an old abandoned section. There was a small store-type area there. Stephanie made some comment about suing Truman (it was now Truman and not Hogwart’s) and how we deserved to eat since we were probably going to be there for a long time. So we started looking for something, but it was all disgusting, including an open barrel of discolored granola.

Around this point I dreamt I woke up because of the loud backing-up warming beep of the garbage truck, but I knew it was before 8:30. Katie also woke up, and I told her I had just had the strangest dream, but since it was 2 a.m. I would tell her when we both woke up later. Then I dreamt that I went back to sleep and had another dream, but this dreamed dream I do not remember.

November 24th, 2001

» ‘years go by’

I have a habit of dreaming in epics, and it is hard to tell them adequately, so usually I don’t bother trying. They are so complex and only half-remembered, each with at least one or two dozen characters. From this one I remember only flashes of faces, feelings, snippets of dialogue. It lasted weeks or months; I did not have a clear idea of time outside of more than the usual dream amount passing. In the end I was dying, and a man who had been searching for me for most of the dream had almost found where I was, but I cannot remember whether he was happy or sad at my impending death. I woke before he arrived.

November 20th, 2001

» needles in the hay

I don’t have much to say — haven’t had much to say for a couple weeks — but I feel I should update, because tomorrow I’m going home and that will be one more week of nothing. I don’t know why I feel obligated to have at least a few entries a month, but I do know in a strange sense I like the feeling of obligation. Outside of the Cap’n's journal and school this is the only time I write anything any more, even though I wouldn’t call this writing. At least it’s something.

My one Tuesday class was canceled today, so I have had gobs of time and little to do with it. I could clean, I suppose, or pack. I could read or get lunch. None of this seems very appealing, though. My anticipation has struck me immobile, the little demon of things-to-be-done-before-leaving has twisted my stomach. I feel like some sort of creature waiting for its death, waiting for the executioner’s axe. Except it is not quite so dire, but it is that kind of restlessness.

Speaking of restlessness, I can’t wait to get home so I can sleep again. I went home last weekend and slept the best I had since August. I hadn’t realized I was sleeping poorly, but now that I know it is all too obvious. I cannot fall asleep; once I have, I cannot stay asleep. I toss and turn, and most mornings I wake up to the garbage truck before I wake up to my alarm. I feel edgy and exhausted. Four nights. Four nights and four mornings in my soft, comforting room. It’s funny the things we take for granted when we have them.

I’m ordering a guitar this Friday. It’s a very pretty guitar, with a honey satin finish and a rosewood bridge and fretwood and real gold tuning keys, along with some other stuff, but I don’t know what that is yet. I’m hoping that with the exorbitant amount I’m spending on shipping it will arrive Monday, although before I can play it I need to find a music store in this little nothing of a town to get a bag, a cleaning cloth, a pick, and a tuner. And maybe a book about how to play. Good luck me.

I’m going to wander off to find lunch now. This afternoon I’m going to Harry Potter with Kyle, and then I’m going to nap this evening so I can be up by three or four a.m. to leave for the airport. Whee! I hope everyone has a happy and relaxing Thanksgiving.

November 14th, 2001

» yoda & orcas & paperclips

“history puts a saint
in every dream”

Last night I hoped for a dream with a saint in it. Instead I found myself in the middle of a whacked-out sort of Star Wars. The beginning is fuzzy, but at the end, as we were fleeing in a space ship (after Yoda sacrificed himself so we could escape), I had to set the coordinates of our home moon into the ship’s computer. Of course we ended up crashing in the wrong place, floating with a huge group of orcas in a giant atmosphere cloud in the middle of nowhere.

They swam in a circle through the air, and at length my dream turned into a narrative about their lives: how they ended up there, how they used to fight among themselves but had since stopped. Why there was a sea of paper clips around them. (The paper clips were not there originally, but I have a very clear memory of what they looked like at the end of the dream — all spread out, floating in a river of glinting silver.) It was all very beautiful, graceful when set against the absolute black of outer space.

November 6th, 2001

» lemon parade

I was going to write something here — did write it, in fact — but I changed my mind. So now that’s gone, and I have nothing else to confess.

Recently on the Daily Jolt there has been a big discussion about freedom, and the growing lack thereof in this country. There are stories everywhere about it: a man kept off of a United Airlines flight for a book he was carrying, a German truck driver detained in Italy for having the word “Laden” (German for “load”) on his papers, and at my own school a student facing suspension because of lies perpetuated by our Career Center. This is deeply frightening.

I want to be able to question the government. I want to be able to read books about social revolutionaries without worrying about who might take my intentions the wrong way. I want to be able to say I don’t support the president, and I think a great deal of what is going on in the world right now is amoral. It makes me sad and a little scared to watch my friends (hell, almost everyone) switch from true critical discussion of politics to “I don’t like it but…” I don’t care if he’s the president. I didn’t vote for him; over half the country didn’t vote for him. The president is not above public question for actions which impact this country.

I should have moved to Canada. Or England. I should move to England tomorrow, and perhaps Mr. D. will be there waiting.

I’m so sick of this.