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August 1994

Aug 1 - Aug 15 - Aug 16 - Aug 19 - Aug 21 - Aug 22 - Aug 31

August 1, 1994

I was at a concert in a place that reminded me of the cafeteria at the school I attended in first and second grades. This place was pretty crowded with about one to two hundred people. I saw Stephanie Stucco there, only she was bald. She wasn't completely bald, however. She did have some nubs on her scalp, but you could tell her head had been recently shaved. Apparently this was what she chose to do so it really wasn't that big of a thing in this dream as it would have been in real life. We looked at each other and we may have had some conversation, but I'm not really sure. Anyway, there was a concert going on and I was in the front row. There was a stage to the left about twenty feet away that was kind of dark and whatever people were in there, a band or whatever, were performing some kind of entertainment, but I can't remember exactly what. There was another stage in front of us, and it was the main stage where the main band played, but I can't really remember the band there either. I looked to the back of the room and there was a corridor-like area that led down to the floor where the concert was. There were lights on out there, like it was the concessions area, but inside where the concert was it was dark, just like it is at all concerts. The crowd was pretty wild and I think the music was pretty loud. There were some cops standing at the entrance to the concert floor by the corridor that led down like they were part of the security. I remember one cop in particular who stood off to the right side of the hallway there. Suddenly a guy appeared who kind of reminded me of Billy Idol, the same hair and look on his face. He had that punky, I-don't-give-a-shit snarly look on his face. He was about twenty-something and was wearing a white T-shirt and kind of stumbled along as he walked, like he was on drugs or he just didn't care if he slammed into anyone. He was part of the band so this is why he probably acted like he was God's gift to the human race. He walked by the cop on the right and almost bumped right into him and as he passed by the cop, the cop almost reached out to him, like he was going to detain this punk if he bumped into him, but the punk didn't and he wandered on into the crowd at the back of the concert floor. I don't know if he purposely avoided the cop or if he was just lucky not to bump into him. The cop looked serious like he wasn't going to fuck around with anyone, even if he was a part of the band. I vaguely remember dancing among the crowd as the band played, but I can barely picture it. I was wearing a coat, like one of the heavy coats I used to wear when I was in junior high school, or the vest kind I wore in high school. There was something about me taking the coat off and acting cool, like if I didn't have a coat on then it meant I was cooler than dog shit. Later, I was outside in the parking lot and as I was trying to get in my car, there were some thugs that began walking towards me. I scrambled to open my car door and managed to get in and start driving away before these weirdoes got a hold of me. I don't remember what they looked like, but I knew they were young, early twenties perhaps, and there were about four of them. As I drove away out of the parking lot, I passed a police car that was coming into the parking lot. We passed each other on the left outside row by some parked cars, and this parking lot reminded me of the one at the school I attended in first and second grades. The cop car had its headlights on so I guess it was night time. The cop car was black and white, like an older cop car, about the late fifties or early sixties version. I was glad to see the cop, and somehow hoped he would keep the thugs from getting to me. The next thing I recall is driving up a mountain road in the same car I was in at the parking lot. I'm pretty sure there was someone with me but I can't remember who. I think it was probably Lisa. I drove up a windy road and I remember trees on both sides of the road. The weather was overcast and it was kind of foggy, like it usually is at the mountains in the morning. As I was driving up this road, the thugs in their car passed me and because they did this and didn't do anything like flip me off or anything, I wondered if they were even after me in the first place, which I'm sure they were. There was something about seeing a song list, like maybe whoever was with me had one and we were looking at it and it might have had something to do with the thugs, or maybe they were the songs the band played at the concert earlier in this dream. It's very vague and I don't even remember that much about it.

August 15, 1994

There were some vehicles that looked like the paddle boats at a lake I go to sometimes during the summer, and they were able to fly, as well as float in the water and zoom around like boats. They looked a little different than the paddle boats because they had some type of cover on them, like a real boat, and I guess they looked a little more aerodynamic. I was viewing them from somewhere overlooking a mountain range. There were about three or four of these things zooming through the air at great speeds, and they flew more like UFOs than any earth-made aircraft. The mountain ranges I was looking at were about half a mile away and had lots of dark green trees on them. One range on the left topped to a curved V and on the left was a more steep mountain. I think there was fog in the tops of these peaks. The paddle boat/UFO things zipped through the air, skimming the tops of the ranges and racing in a line over the trees. They did arcs and at one point they flew straight across the mountain on the right, climbing to its tops at a great speed. I saw inside one of these things, and I saw that they were vehicles made for some type of sporting events. I saw a sportscaster sitting in the passenger seat and I was viewing him from an angle that suggested that I was sitting in the pilot's seat. I don't remember anything else about the inside except for this view. The sportscaster looked like the average newsman, mid-thirties, short black hair, wearing a black suit and he had a headset on, the kind you see NFL coaches wearing. He was looking at me and was trying to get a play-by-play commentary as we drove around. The thing was, was that these vehicles we were in traveled at such a fast speed and did such jerky movements that the sportscaster was jiggling around as well, like he was sitting on the washer during the spin cycle. He tried to talk but when he did, his voice wasn't really understandable because he was jiggling so much. He looked kind of scared, like he wished he could have covered a golf classic instead. There were mountain roads and I don't know if the paddle-boats raced along them, but I saw motorcycles and bicycles zooming along them. At first I saw motorcycles and it was like they were in a race. I don't remember much about the motorcycles, but I remember more about the bicycles. There were four bicyclists. They raced along the dirt mountain roads, traveling uphill along winding two-lane paths. One biker went along the edge of a hill, just below the lip of the curve, just like that skier did at the top of Crystal when I went to the top and it was so foggy you could hardly see. There was a group of bicyclists who were traveling along a bend in the road and when they got to the bend, one of the bikers went right off the edge, as if he meant to do it. He sailed over the edge and I didn't see him land, but I did see him go over the edge and about ten feet down after that. It was an eighty degree slope so I knew he probably got hurt pretty bad. Later, I was on a dock on a lake, one I don't remember ever being on before. I was with two guys who worked at the place where I used to work. One of theses guys was black and could have been Marques who used to work there, but he looked like Kirby Puckett, the baseball player for the Minnesota Twins. The other guy was Irgnoid Bertwoski. We stood there on the dock, waiting for a paddle-boat (the same kind that flies through the air) to float up to the dock because we were going to go on a ride on it or something like that. We saw the paddler out in the water off to our left and ahead of us about thirty feet away. Again, it reminded me of the paddle boats at that lake I sometimes visit during the summer, but it had a top on it that made it look more like an actual boat. It was ten feet long at the most and about five or six feet wide and four feet high. It was a two-tone color, the bottom half of it a dull red/pinkish color, the top half was blue. The cover had what may have been a windshield which made it look even more like a boat, like the kind my mom and dad used to own. The entire thing looked plastic, though, like it was made by Playskool for adults instead of kids. It putted along and there was a guy on a surfboard in the water to the right of the paddler. He was wearing swimming trunks only and was lying down on the surfboard, paddling around. As the paddler went to the right, it passed the guy on the surfboard, coming to within a foot from him. To avoid hitting him entirely, it put its engine in reverse and then skidded backwards and out of the way. As the paddler approached us, Irgnoid, Marques and I discussed stuff about work. They told me about how after I left that the managers discussed getting me back and how they should have never let me go. I remember Vasquel Buller and Eli discussing my wage, something about how much I had been making when I worked with them versus what I make now. My wage was written down on a piece of paper and when Eli looked at it he made an incredulous face and said something like, "God I can't believe we let him go for that much," which meant something like they could have given me more than what I'm making at where I work now, and they wished they would have. There was something about a memo that was circulating around their company that showed a salary figure. All the managers like Eli, Forgotta and Buller were supposed to view this figure and decide on whether or not it was a reasonable figure to offer me to come back. As Marques and I stood there on the dock and talked, he tried spelling my last name, as if folks at that company tried it but everyone always had problems doing it. He was having difficulty spelling it. He tried several times and I think he stopped short before completing the spelling. The last time he tried he told me that it ended with something like "...P...P...I...I...T...T!" When he said this, his mouth remained open and he, as well as I, started laughing because we both knew that my name was not spelled that way but it was as good a guess as any. The instant Marques and I started laughing, the alarm on the radio by the side of the futon went off and woke me up. A song started playing that I first had in my dream, then it drug me out of sleep and into the real world. The song was just starting at the exact instant that Marques and I started laughing, so it was perfect timing, like the song belonged in the dream.. It looked like I was watching a movie at that point. When I woke up, I just laid there and continued listening to the song. It was pretty cool. I threw my arms in the air in beat to the accents of the song. I don't know the name of the song, but it is a newer song, one done by the band Grunt Truck or someone like that. It starts out with a grinding noise and I'd remember it if I heard it again and I'm sure I'd think, "Hey that's the song I heard in that one dream!"

August 16, 1994

I was in a house with Orville Costerfenin. He was being a real jerk to me, saying mean stuff to me that I can't really remember, but he was a different person. The house reminded me of the one I used to live in with Jethro's parents in Hot Springs, Arkansas. We were in the living room part of it and I remember seeing him as I stood by where the entrance into the rec room was and he stood by where the phone was by the living room window. He was staring at the floor. I remember him being on the phone and talking to a girl, I don't know who. I could hear the conversation, like I had picked up another phone in the house and listened in, but all I really remember is hearing the conversation, although I can't recall what they talked about. When I started listening, there was a busy signal and Orville's voice, that was all I heard, and I was wondering why Orville was talking to a busy signal and perhaps he was just on the phone pretending to talk to someone to try to fool me, but then I heard a woman's voice. There was a delay between the time Orville talked and the time the woman talked. Orville was saying stuff about me, like what a jerk I was being and the woman would respond with some kind of comment, but I can't recall what it was she said. Eventually, as their conversation lengthened the busy signal turned into a dial tone. It was kind of hard to understand what it was they were saying above the sound of the busy signal and then the dial tone. Soon after the dial tone came on, their conversation ended. The next thing I recall is Orville talking to me. He was explaining to me why he was being such a jerk to me. As I listened, he drew a picture of something which I can't remember, but the picture was of something that showed how he was acting towards me. Then he drew a picture of a goat and he said something like, "And why do you think I've been acting like a crazed goat?" or something like that. When he was telling me this, I could tell it was extremely difficult for him, like he had to push the words out, straining at every syllable. In this dream, the goat symbolization, for some reason, corresponded to aids, and it was then that I knew that Orville had aids and that was why he was acting mean towards me, like since he had aids and was going to die that he didn't have to be nice to me, that he could be a jerk if he wanted to and get away with it, which really didn't make much sense but you know how dreams are. Later I was inside the house and I saw that Orville was outside on the front porch, a front walkway area that kind of reminded of Bob and Valerie's front door area, only at a reverse angle. I walked out there and said hi to Orville, trying to be nice. He was bending over doing something, like checking the milk bottle in the square metal container there or something like that. He was depressed, though, and didn't say anything to me. He may have acknowledged me by maybe giving me quick eye contact, but that was it. After that he turned and walked away, out towards the driveway.

August 19, 1994

I was in a parking lot when suddenly I saw Donald and Cynthia Notches. I don't know where this parking lot was, but it could have been at a grocery store and I was just doing my shopping and coincidentally ran into each other. Donald was on the left and Cynthia was on the right when we met. Donald looked the same way he always did, but Cynthia looked wider around the waist area. Her waist was bigger, not a whole lot bigger, but it was obvious she had gained some poundage there. Her gut was still thin and the way her body was shaped made her look like a light bulb. Donald and I had some conversation and the topic of drinking and/or partying came up. Donald laughed apprehensively and looked down, and I could tell that drinking and/or partying wasn't such a good thing to discuss with him, like he had given it up or it was something that he and I always seemed to do and he wanted to do something else, or maybe because Cynthia would get mad if we talked about it.

August 21, 1994

I drove to downtown Puyallup because there was something going on, not the Puyallup Fair, but something else that was happening in the middle of town. There was a lot of traffic and I remember I couldn't park close to the actual event because of all the cars, so I ended up parking by the fairgrounds somewhere, near where the school is that I attended in first and second gardes. I was walking around the town and I somehow came across a religious cult that was situated in a building across from the church I attended as a child, in the building where the church has their social gatherings at. I think the church is where the big event was happening, but the cult just happened to be across the street from it. Christopher Lee, the actor who portrayed The Man with the Golden Gun, was the leader of this cult. He convinced people to join this cult somehow, but I never did find out what it was they believed in or what they practiced, just that a bunch of people lived in this house as a group. I somehow became involved with this group, but I kept it clear in my head that I wasn't really joining, that I would just hang out and act like I was a member. I didn't choose to live in this place, which is where all the cult members lived. There were times when I would talk with Christopher Lee and he would look at me calmly and speak softly, and I got the feeling that he knew I wasn't really interested in his cult, although I tried to act like I was. One time when I talked to him he looked like a vampire he played in one of those old movies he was in, but I don't think I really saw any fangs. Our conversation ended then he turned and walked up a set of stairs that reminded me of the stairs that the lady in the movie Gremlins had her wheelchair attached to. The room was dark and gloomy at that time, dim lights and a soap opera air about the place. There were many people that lived in this place, some of whom I talked with, but the only one that really stood out was a black guy, young and with short curly hair, and he was no one I have ever met before. He was just interested in this cult an hour earlier then the next thing I knew, he was moving in and becoming a member, which I thought was rather quick. There was an area just inside the front door, like a foyer where people get greeted when first walking in. I was standing in that area, which was about twenty feet in diameter. There were two steps leading to the front door. The black man came through the front door and he was carrying something slung over his back, like his belongings and a sleeping bag, and he stated how he had decided to live here now and to become a full member. He had a pleasant smile on his face. I think I remember seeing the church across the street when he opened then closed the door, and I also noticed it was getting dark outside. There were some lights along the steps leading into the church. No one ever questioned why I hadn't decided to live there yet. There was a gift shop in this house, which was like the gift shop at Paradise at Mountain Rainier. In this gift shop were bins full of tiny polished rocks that were made for the people who lived there. The rocks were shaped into the letters that formed the people's names. I looked at the different bins and finally found one containing tiny, about an eighth of an inch small, polished brown rocks that were shaped like the letter M. It may have been my entire name, either Max or Poppit or both, but I distinctly remember the M. These letters had some kind of attachment to them where you could fit a necklace through, like a small metal loop glued to the top. I remember even seeing a braided necklace, like the one Lisa made for Sarah for her charm she got at Mountain Rainier this last summer, and how it was slipped through the metal loop opening but it was never fully pulled through. The other letter-shaped rocks in the other adjoining square one foot by one foot bins were larger than my Ms, more around the quarter to half-inch size. Soon it was time for me to go home so I started walking home, deciding to walk instead of drive because I can't see very well when driving at night. As I got to the bottom of Meridian Avenue, about where the restaurant is that I used to work at in 1981 and 1982, I realized how stupid it was for me to walk when I should just drive. It was like driving drunk, that's how nervous I was about driving in the dark. I don't remember if I ever drove up Meridian or not, but the next thing I recall is being at 103rd Street on the top of Meridian, where there is an auto repair shop. I was on 103rd about thirty feet away from Meridian, and was walking out towards Meridian from the left side of 103rd. There in front of me, before Meridian and still on 103rd on the left hand side of the road, was some kind of car, maybe a Volkswagen Beetle, and it was being stripped by two guys. I don't know who they were. I remember seeing the car with its tires missing and the brake pads exposed, and the engine was in plain sight because the fenders were off or the hood was open, or both. I had the feeling that the guys were going to take the engine as well. They were using some kind of sticks or poles to strip this car. As they went about this crime, two policemen walked up to the scene. They were each carrying a long metal rod, like the kind I got from dad and is now sitting in my shed, and they approached the guys stripping the car, surprising them. I thought that they were going to impale these guys with their metal rods, but instead they stabbed at the ground right near where the guys were, trying to intimidate them or something, and they spoke in threatening tones, saying something to them I canít recall, as they stabbed. Soon I realized the reason for these metal rods. The car strippers were either put inside boulders, or their bodies were transformed into boulders, and the police used their metal rods to pry the boulders forward and push them tumbling down Meridian. One of the guys was in a smaller boulder than the other, and he tumbled down Meridian, on the right hand shoulder, in front of and faster than the other boulder. The smaller boulder was tan colored and about three feet round and the other boulder was darker and about four or five feet round. Both rocks were jagged and looked just like you would picture boulders to be. The small boulder picked up speed and sped pretty fast down South Hill. The larger boulder tumbled behind it but at a slower pace, so the smaller boulder gained a large lead. As the boulders tumbled down and the smaller one reached the area by where 23rd Street is (halfway down Meridian), the man that was the small boulder (or inside it) commented on how the speed at which he traveled caused him to evolve far faster than normal humans would. Apparently when you travel fast, you evolve faster, that's what the message was here. One of the boulder guys, I think the larger one, told of what he had evolved into, some type of dark-skinned person with two heads or something, meaning that this is what all humans will evolve into in millions of years. The other boulder guy, the small one, exclaimed that he had evolved further than that, telling that he had evolved into a human with many limbs, such as four arms and four legs. Again, this apparently meant that if the human race was around long enough then they would evolve into what it was these boulder guys did while they were spinning around as rocks. I didn't actually see them in their final evolutionary state that they claimed to have evolved in to, I just heard their voices and saw the boulders. I think there may have been a few hands or even arms sticking out of the boulders. As they discussed their rapid evolutionary state, they laughed about it, as if what had happened to them was amusing as hell.
I looked at my left hand and noticed a huge blister there. I don't know how it got there but it was huge, comprising the entire bottom half of the palm of my left hand. I remember pulling at it and taking it off, but when the skin was pulled to the left part of my hand, the blistering stopped and it yanked at my good skin, which is a real painful bitch if you've ever done that. It probably would have started bleeding if I continued to pull against the good skin, but I don't think it did. I ended up pulling all the blistered white skin off and when I did, I looked at my hand. The edge of the blister had a minute edge of skin where there used to be skin, but the area where the blister was, was kind of Lima bean shaped and was all pink and moist, like newly exposed skin looks. In the pinkness I saw the lines of the palm of my hand. It was about three inches wide, two inches tall, and looked like it really fucking hurt.

August 22, 1994

I was at work. I saw an engineer who used to work with several years ago. I can't remember his name but he was the guy who was married to that girl who had that party and made that killer spinach dip. I think his name was Don. Anyway, I remember him opening a door and looking in at me, trying to tell me something. Later, I was in a different work area. I think I was there with the same engineer guy that opened the door to tell me something earlier in this dream. He wanted to talk with a guy who had a door open on the other side of the building. Don then slipped inside a door that was by us and walked sneakily across the work area, about twenty feet, and then out the other door where the other guy was. I was surprised that he did that and wondered if he was going to get caught, which he didn't. Later, I was with some people at work on one of those hydraulic lifts that goes up and down and hauls equipment in and out of our building. There were about six of us total and among them were Traesup Beckenridge and Helen Trube. Traesup looked down most of the time like he always does, and Helen was smiling and had a perm like she does now. Someone was talking some pretty blunt stuff about marriage or something. It was a touchy subject that you don't just blurt out and start talking about. The next thing I know, we're all on an elevator instead of the hydraulic lift and Helen looks at me, amazed that someone could bring up the subjects that the other person had. She laughed and said to me something like, "I can't believe it can you? What would you think if I started talking about marriage and..." and then she mentioned some other subjects that I don't remember, but they were things that you just didn't normally talk about. Later on I was in a parking lot, one I don't recall ever seeing. I was in my Nissan truck and was trying to get out of the parking lot. Traesup Beckenridge was there but he was just walking by and looking at what I was doing so I was being careful not to hit any other vehicle. That was kind of hard to do, though. In front of me, blocking my way out, were two other vehicles parked at an angle, like a V, so it looked as though there was not a big enough space between them to squeeze out, but I was going to try anyway. I think this was supposed to remind me of the guy who parked at an angle behind me, blocking my way out when I took Sarah to ballet class last weekend. Anyway, the two vehicles were a black Camaro or late sixties style Olds Cutlass, and the other was a black pickup truck, shinier and larger than mine. I think the truck was on the left and the Cutlass was on the right. I inched forward and was amazed that I was able to get through them without hitting either one because I was sure I was going to. The next thing I remember is traveling along Portland Avenue, going south and I was at the intersection where the grocery store called Hogan's Market was on the right, and Rico's corner store was just past the intersection and to the left. I normally take a left there to go home, but instead I just didn't get the wheel turned in time so I ended up going straight instead. When I did, Portland Avenue suddenly began to look much different than it actually does. Apparently, going straight instead of turning left at that intersection led you into a wooded area and going home was a longer way. I had the feeling that I was on the top of Mountain Rainier and to get home I had to drive all the way past Paradise and down the Mountain, which is a long way to drive from the intersection of Portland and 72nd. I realized I wasn't driving my truck any more. I was now in a car that was probably that Cutlass that was blocking me in back at that parking lot. Suddenly, I was driving along a path in some dense woods. The path reminded me of the one Ron and I were on when hiking from Narada Falls to Paradise on Mountain Rainier, but only this section of the path in my dream looked like that. After that the path was unfamiliar to me. The path was very narrow and it was impossible to turn around if I needed to. The initial path was rocky and had a ledge on it and was covered with vines and bushy growth, like it had been a while since anyone had traveled this way, but I felt that I knew the path and that if I just kept following it then I would eventually get home. I felt that I had to travel down the entire length of Mountain Rainier now, reminding me of when I jammed at Paradise Inn and had to drive home in my 68 Dodge van at about three in the morning. As I drove along, there came a fork in the road, one path going up and the other going down. I was traveling at such a speed that I couldn't stop to contemplate which way to go, so I hurriedly chose the path going down. Both paths were very narrow now, about a foot or so wide. When I went down the path I chose, I felt that I should have gone the other way for some reason. The path I chose disappeared into dense, dark woods. I was gaining speed and went faster and faster downward, but I didn't slow down because a hill was coming up so I pushed on the gas, but as the car went up the hill, it slowed down a lot and almost didn't make it up. The car I was in was completely gutless and could barely putt along as it was. To top it off, one of the tires was also flat, not completely, but flat enough to make the journey that much tougher. As I reached the top of this hill and continued along the narrow dirt path, the car wouldn't go much faster than if I would have walked. As I continued along through these woods, the path suddenly disappeared, being swallowed up by the forest as it had grown around the path. I was at an area that was down in a small valley, with a hill going up to the left and in front of me. I moved some tree branches out of the way by the hill/cliff and was able to detect where the path continued on, although it was barely enough to travel on. I think I was on foot now. I can't remember if I ever made it home or not in this dream.
I dreamt that I had taken a very long shit and when I got off the john to take a look at it, the turd was so long that it stretched out of the toilet and the end of it rubbed against the propped-up toilet seat, underneath the front of the rim. It was pretty gross because the poop rubbed off onto the lid and I think I remember partially wiping the crap off, which was dark, almost black. I probably dreamt this because I had taken one hellatious shit the day before, and it had to have been a record turd.

August 31, 1994

I was working on a piece of equipment at work. There was some guy who was working with me but I don't know who he was. He reminded me of an Iranian dude or an Israeli man. He had shoulder-length black hair and a thick black moustache. I don't think he was wearing a smock, but I'm sure I was. The piece of equipment was laid out in an area that reminded me of a meat freezer along the back wall at a grocery store. Just behind me there were some metal racks, like bread racks, but they had some product on them. There was a lot of product and it was stacked to the ceiling. There were two racks and I remember rearranging the product on one of them so they wouldn't topple over. I remember looking at the rack to the right of the first one I fixed and it had lots of product stacked to the ceiling as well, but I didn't rearrange them. There were two columns of product on this rack that were higher than the others, on the left hand side of the top shelf. The product on these two columns stacked to the ceiling. There was some type of overhang where we worked, and the product on top of these two columns touched just inside our side of the overhang. The product was stacked about ten high at least, which is something that just doesn't happen, man. There was something about changing some calculations on a piece of equipment, as if I was going to produce some product, but that part is very vague. I remember looking down at the equipment and it looked different. There was some product on it and it was going to get damaged in some way. When working with this Israeli guy, I felt a lot of stress, maybe because he didn't know what he was doing and I had to help him or because there was just a lot of shit going on and I had to scramble to keep up. After a while I turned from the equipment and looked by the racks with product stacked on them, and Hector Comstock was walking towards us. He had on a smock and was carrying around that clipboard that you always see him with. He got to about ten feet from us and then I think the dream ended.

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