12/12/2023

It's my birthday.

an old dream from 12/12/2015

I was riding my bike through a city I called Newark. It didn't look like Newark, nor any other city/town used in dreams as a frequent backdrop. Night had fallen, I was pedalling through the rain-slick streets when I found the most dangerous road. This had an extremely steep incline, bordering on perpendicular to the ground. I remember that I had turned a corner, saw there was nothing in front of me and stopped short.

Heading off in a new direction, a building caught my interest. I took out my phone, went inside to film my explorations. A young black lady came downstairs, confronted me with her phone to film my antics, whereupon I turned tail and ran like a little baby.

The dream wrapped up where I was in a bedroom with Bailey Jay. I crapped out on the bed, feeling just as fat as I feel in real life. Suddenly I had to poop, and went into the hotel's basement to pinch a loaf. When I flushed, the toilet spat a gob of vomit on my shirt and began overflowing. First clear water flooded the floor, followed by black sludge. It was hip-height before I climbed atop a partition and began calling for help.

Lots of people came to gawk at my situation. Worse, they had photos of me laying in bed with Bailey Jay. Nothing sexual was happening, I was just embarassed being seen flat on my back, without a shirt, and looking like an albino bearded walrus.

another old dream from 12/12/2015

I tweeted this, but I reckon it should be immortalized at LiveJournal than condemned as ephemera on Twitter. Presented in ersatz Twitter format.

Driving on the GSP (garden state parkway), wind up taking 2 precarious exits after toll plazas.

Arrive at NYC. I park across from the WTC (world trade center/twin towers). Someone (me?) is talking to a Japanese cop by the WTC.

Nearby is a pretty Japanese girl. The cop's companion looks away a second, and the Japanese girl is the cop.

The Japanese girl is now the cop in drag. The girl is now the cop. Dustin Hoffman (DH) crosses the street, watches several people sneak in the WTC's fire exit.

I realize this is now a retread of Fight Club. DH stumbles into the WTC kinda like Kramer from Seinfeld.

Lobby is a dark restaraunt. DH navigates the tables towards the elevator. Up he goes.

When the door opens, he's leaving a hotel room saying goodbye to his mistress. Across the hall is a door that wasn't there before.

Shouldn't be there.

DH steps through, it's the hallway in a mirror universe. He goes to the mirror hotel room finding it empty except for sawdust and a tabletop.

The rest of the room is forbiddingly dark. DH steps out, bumps into his mirror mistress who is silent.

DH tries to talk to her, then decides to speak backwards. He's not speaking backwards. It's me. Eye-B eye-b for bye-bye.

He's not talking backwards. I am talking backwards. Eye-b eye-b for bye-bye. Around then is when I woke up.