Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Dream Journal Entry #8 — The Blue Cooler

Al came over to the house to catch up mix music. It was the morning, and he brought his DJ equipment, a blue cooler and BBQ. 

"Were we going to the beach to do this?" I asked. 

"No, I thought I'd bring it to us," he replied. I gave him the shngarf face.

We were in the kitchen mixing tracks and laughing over BBQ and soda for the entire day.  So preoccupied, I wasn't aware of the things around me at all. 

Al glanced out the window and onto his watch face "holy shit it's 11:55." 

"What's wrong?"

"Hello? I have to go. Your boyfriend is coming home." 

"What boyfriend?" I was confused. 

Al bolted out of his chair and grabbed what he could reach. He was so scared he didn't bother taking his cooler. Standing at the front door he was bouncing anxiously, shifting his weight from knee to knee, "Deb come on hurry please."

I sprinted to his cooler to help him out before reaching the door. As I did that, I started remembering that very same feeling I'd had in reality once upon a time. The fear that something terrible was coming, and something really bad was waiting to happen. I remembered where I was in my life in the dream when I grabbed that cooler.

I squeezed between Al and the door, "I'll go first," but just as I opened the door, D was walking through the front garden. 

As I'd always done, I put my toughest face forward when I should've retreated. I told Al to stand behind me and just walk. It seemed fine initially, but that lasted two seconds.

We walked past D, and I made sure I was in the middle. When D and I were level, he pushed me out of the way and grabbed Al by his shirt. "Holy fuck," I said, "nonono you don't not this time."

I tried grabbing D by the shirt, pushing him away from Al, pulling him away, pulling Al away, standing infront of Al to take the swings. I was screaming and crying, "stop. please stop. for the love of god when will it end," I cried.

At that, D reached for the blue cooler I brought out and started smashing that into Al's skull against the cobblestone of the garden. Al was convulsing, bleeding from his skull, eyes puffed closed, and helpless. 

The only thing I hought to do at that point was drop to my knees and try to cover Al's body in a hug as D continued break him. I held him as I cried for help.

________________________

The crying came through to reality and I woke up shaking, and in tears. I wish it'd end. I dig my own graves. 


Saturday, February 8, 2014

Dream Journal Entry #7 – Little Black Dress

I'd just come home from a night out. I was in a little black dress, and drunk. Fumbling around, about to take my heels off, my phone went off. One new message from D.

I opened it and it was along the lines of, "baby bend over when you do that." 

The moment I read it I looked up and he was standing right infront of me. bolted out the room, and through the front door, still in my heels. It was about 2AM, and was pitch black outside. 

Frantic and in too much shock to think straight all I did was run *stumble in my heels. He pulled up near me on his motorcycle and kept pace with my run. 

"Whatever you do, you realise you're not getting away from me right?"

He jumped from his bike. I barely slipped past his grip.

___________________

4:39 in the morning and I woke up a good 10 minutes ago with my heart convulsing out of my chest. 

Lets try that again shall we?

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Geraldine Brooks - The Idealists

"Men can absent themselves from real life for their art more easily. Women are anchored into the quotidian business of getting food on the table, making sure everybody's socks match, the soccer gear is ready. I admire idealists, but they're usually enabled by someone who holds the tether on their balloon, who pays the bills and sweeps up after them." - Geraldine Brooks
Not taking the men vs. women notion from it, but rather, idealists vs. realists. Speaking from a place of extreme idealistic tendencies in the past, this is something I was seriously blinded to. Funny shit, Sherlock.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Port De Bras


1st, 2nd, 3rd position, 4th. 

I close my eyes, standing strong - heel to toe, heel to toe. Moonlight shines through our floor-to-ceiling windows and I'm rocking gently to the breeze. Soft, steady tapping of a loose faucet. I hum a small tune under my breath.

I undo the clasp of my bun, letting my hair fall heavy on my shoulders. Pushing my fingers through I sweep it sideways, head to follow; letting my body loosely go -

tum tu tum        tum tu tum
Sometimes I don't want to know. Sometimes I just want to dance. 

Silhouettes and white move like water through the room. Strength of a lioness, gentle heart - strides of elegance, eloquence, longing - submission. A white baby grand in the distance and a steady waltz. A Waltz For Me. The faucet turns into a smooth, steady drum line. Do you understand?

Through a field of long grass, I run. I'm looking towards the sun hoping to find you. I know you'd smile at me if you could see. I'm running, I'm flying, I'm skipping steps; pointing at the clouds, and laughing at them, with them, so damn beneath them. 

I've been calling to you. Do you hear me?