<bgsound src="TR2Venice2.wav">

June 1989

Jun 1 - Jun 3 - Jun 12 - Jun 15 - Jun 17 - Jun 20 - Jun 23 - Jun 25 - Jun 29

June 1st, 1989

I was in a classroom at the school I attended when I was in first and second grades, looking outside with some other people. We were probably all students. We all gathered at the windows to look out. Charles was out there with some other guy and it looked as though they were going to fight. I think they might have said a few drastic words to each other, then I was surprised to see Charles deck the guy pretty hard. I would have thought that Charles would just sit there and get punched, but he was taking the initiative. He hit the guy pretty hard several times directly in the face and I thought the fight was over. Then the other guy hit Charles back real hard in the face several times and the fight took a 180 degree turn. This is where I became concerned. I went outside and called for Charles but I can't remember finding him. I walked among a crowd of people on the playground, looking and calling for Charles.

June 3rd, 1989

I was on a strange escalator that was warped in the middle, the whole thing resembling an arc on a roller-coaster. I remember Gene, the guy who gave a dinner party at our apartment last year, demonstrating cookware he was trying to sell. He was facing me as he stood further along the escalator on the other side of the bend, going down. He had his hands on the rails and he was giving me a sales pitch. I can't recall what it was he was trying to sell me, but it was off to my left - maybe it was another escalator. The end of the escalator ride was weird. The stairs bent downward, almost curving, and the stairs at the end separated from the rest because the downward curve was too much for them. I recall watching a woman, maybe Bertha Quantox, jump off the bottom as the escalator ride ended. Other escalators revolved about me, seeming to be floating in the sky, not really connected to anything.
I was with some guys and we were at a secret government building somewhere. The building consisted of giant missile warheads sticking out of the ground, signifying secret government stuff. There was a guy there named Busty (I don't think it was Busty Levers) and he was walking around and was trying to avoid us. We needed him for a secret government experimental study so we walked up to him and tried to act like he was our buddy. We were all saying, "Hey Busty how's it going?" and "Hi Busty, how ya doing buddy?" We patted him on the back and shoulders as if we were glad to see him. He knew something was up though, and managed to pull free from our grasps. He almost got away, but then I produced an ice-cream Popsicle with fudge in the middle of it. This almost lured him back to us but not quite. Later, I was in the top-secret lab with one of my partners and we were discussing what a drag it was that we couldn't get Busty to be our guinea pig in the experiment. There was a strange model on the table next to us that had some small square wooden blocks, about half an inch square each, arranged in a square pattern. Another block or two was just a few inches away from those. There was a hole in the middle of the square and I explained to my partner how neat it would have been if Busty could have walked into that hole and dropped away just like the experiment was planned. At that instant, Busty came storming through the swinging glass doors to our lab and confronted us. He stated that he would be in our experiment after all, saying that, "We're still using our hands..." as if human beings using their hands was a major technological drawback and the experiment would take care of that problem if he was in it and it worked.

June 12th, 1989

There were a few of us at a Chinese Restaurant and we were going to eat our food when Cindy Breck showed up. The next thing I knew, her and I were at a different restaurant by ourselves. I was worried that everyone would be wondering where I was at with Cindy and why I wasn't with Lisa at the Chinese restaurant. Cindy’s brother, or someone close to her, wanted to fight me pretty bad for some reason but I can't recall why. He cursed at me and had to be held back to keep from hitting me. I walked up to him and tried to be friends instead, being the laid-back guy that I am. We were on the front steps of the restaurant arguing, and people were all around us. I told him that I didn't blame him for wanting to fight me and that I would have felt the same way. This didn't soothe the guy at all - he really wanted me dead. Cindy pulled me away to go back to the Chinese restaurant. When I got there, I saw that everyone's plate was empty and I had missed the meal. I approached Lisa, knowing that I was in deep shit. I tried to talk my way out of it, apologizing this way and that. Her bottom lip curled under, showing she was sad, and I thought for a second that I talked my way out of it. Then suddenly she stepped up to me and said in my face, "You just get the HELL away from me!" She was very serious and I was scared. I continued to follow her around, not being able to keep a straight face or talk straight. She said that she could smell Cindy's perfume on me and announced to me: "We've got a problem."

June 15th, 1989

I lived in a run-down apartment building in the middle of downtown, the scummiest, most poverty-stricken area of town. For some reason, I was a talking pig instead of a human being. There were some guys that I associated with and they got me into trouble. One time when I went up to my apartment, I was greeted by federal agents and I was arrested for something, but I don't know what. One cop (I think it was a black guy) held me to the floor as he put handcuffs on me, which somehow resembled the rubber nozzle-like thing on the end of a gas pump. Then I was downstairs on the ground floor, depressed because I had lost my job and was just out of jail, not to mention that I was also a pig. Some guy walked in the front door. He was an actor, I know the face but I can't recall his name. He looked at me before he went up a flight of stairs and said something like, "Oh no, not you again," then he tossed me a huge wad of money. I told him what a nice man he was and almost began crying, but I held it back because I think that if the man knew I had lost my job and was depressed, then he would have taken the money back. So I was at my rope's end. I sat on the corner of a street in downtown, by a series of steep hills that cars drive up. I don't think I was a pig anymore. I was wearing greasy, scummy clothes and I was tying my tennis-shoes. One of the laces was in a knot and the other was fine. I was worried about what I was gonna tell Lisa because she didn't know that I had lost my job or had been in jail. I worried about paying bills. As I sat there on the street corner and watched the world go by, I looked up and saw Margaret Jones walking across the street towards me. She was wearing make-up. We were surprised to see each other. She saw I was having problems and sat down next to me. She suggested that a bunch of us get together later and go have a few drinks and I was wondering how I was going to afford drinks.
I was on South Hill, looking down Meridian. Plato was on the road by some apartments that I used to live in. A car drove by and drove right over him without hitting him. I yelled at Plato to watch out and be careful. He finally got up as some kids started chasing after him. I was worried what these kids might do if they caught him, but Plato managed to out run them and he ran to me and jumped in my arms. I held him like I usually do then walked away with him.

June 17th, 1989

I was at the house on top of South Hill that I grew up in. I can't remember being inside the house, but I recall looking at it from the outside from a distance of about one hundred feet. I was at the front and the house was on a dirt embankment. The bank was very weak as it occasionally gave way to a sea that washed up against it. It was dusk. I realized that water was forming around me and suddenly it turned to winter and chunks of ice choked the water. I was carrying Plato in my arms as I tried to run to safety before the water completely engulfed us. Plato jumped from my arms and into the icy water. His head and shoulders popped up from the water as he realized that jumping from me was not such a good idea. The water caused his fur to become sleek and matted. I was worried that he would freeze to death, but he managed to shake off most of the water and he buried himself in the deep snow on the bank of the river, or sea, or whatever. This seemed to keep him from freezing. Finally we reached the edge of the water, far from the house. There was someone with us that had kept us alive. I had almost given up hope and just sat down to die, but this guy kept me going. I can't remember who it was, but it might have been Ben Tip. We sat at a picnic table on the edge of the sea in the freezing winter weather. Ben had some food wrapped in tin foil and had managed to start some type of strange, self-starting fire to heat the food up. As the flames wrapped around the foil, I saw that the food inside was steaks as the foil unraveled. He cooked the meat on the picnic table and I was grateful to have this guy with me to help me survive the winter.

June 20th, 1989

I was in a rock band with Charles. He played the drums and I played the keyboards, which is odd since I don’t really know how to play the keyboards. We were the only two members and it was kind of strange with no guitar players. Lisa was there with lots of other people, but I only remember Lisa's face. I exclaimed to her how unique it was that Charles and I were the only band members and how I hoped our music turned out all right. We played in front of a bunch of people. Charles started playing the drums and I came in on the keyboards, a bit hesitant because I don't really know how to play. I struck one note, then another, then formed a chord, but I was off beat and couldn't coordinate the notes. Charles was looking at me as we played and he stopped the song, which was embarrassing. He told me to play, and as he watched, I screwed up. Therefore he showed me how to play the notes, 5 times on this chord, 5 times on that, 6 times on this chord, 5 times on that one. The entire crowd was watching and it felt awkward.

June 23rd, 1989

Mass stuff happened but only a little I can remember. I was at a house somewhere and I think I was robbing it with some friends. It got to the point where I had to go, so I went and walked up a slight incline to a car parked by the side of the road. I think the car belonged to whoever owned the house and I was going to ride it away. Plato might have been with me, but I don't remember for sure. I was driving in this car and there was snow on the ground, causing me to slide all over the place. I almost got in several accidents but avoided them by sliding the car so the front would collide instead of the side. This happened twice that I can recall. I drove the car around and ended up in a big parking area somewhere with a chain-linked gate as the entrance. There was a short Japanese guard that directed traffic in and out of this place. I did a doughnut in the parking lot and turned to go back out. I thought the guard was going to bitch at me for driving the way I was, but instead he waved for me to move on out as another car was on its way in. I thought maybe he was going to bitch at this other car, but he didn't and he motioned at us frantically as if he was under a lot of pressure and he wanted to get things done right.

June 25th, 1989

I had a sore tooth. It was on the bottom right of my mouth, the little sharp one that joins with the upper fang when you close your mouth. It was rather rotten, actually, and it was coming out in pieces. I recall pulling the top half of it out. It hurt I guess, but not like it would have if it had happened in real life. I think Lisa was with me and I showed the tooth to her as I pulled at it. Eventually the bottom half turned soft, almost slimy, and it was easily snapped out of my jaw, leaving a red, bloody spot in my mouth.

June 29th, 1989

Lisa and I lived in a house somewhere and we had a calico cat. I think it was a cat that my mom was planning to give to us. I remember the orange color fur on top of its head. It was a cat, not a kitten. We had a weird neighbor. He had a bag of leaves or garbage or something that he was trying to hide from us. Thinking that he was rich and there was some money or something of value in the bag, we grabbed the bag from him and refused to give it back to him. We dumped its contents out and there were leaves in it or something like that. Lisa and I agreed to dig further into the debris to try to find something valuable and when we did we found our cat, but it was dead. That's why the neighbor was hiding this bag from us. The cat was just lying there and we almost didn't see it because it was the same orange and brown color as the leaves. I became extremely pissed off and sad and almost started crying. I marched over to the neighbor's house to talk to him about this. Lisa's friend Renee met me on the front porch, and I guess she was the wife of the neighbor I was after. I started telling her about my dead cat and she began to get tears in her eyes because she was sad. This didn't make me less sad. I walked into the neighbor’s house and there were two guys there. I yelled and threatened them but they remained calm. The actual neighbor I was looking for was not home (I think it was Corky, my old neighbor). One of the guests, a guy with dark hair and a beard, sat calmly as he explained that he was the one who killed my cat. When I asked for the details, he said that my cat was screaming or something and he couldn't take it any more so he threw the cat against the wall.
"Threw it against the wall!?" I screamed in rage.
"Yeah," he replied, "And it started to bleed and died..."
I was very mad. This guy threw my cat against the wall and let its broken body bleed to death. He was very calm about the whole thing. He beckoned me to calm down and explained that Corky was doing my report, as if I had given Corky the task of writing a report for me for a college class. I refused their talks of friendliness and left the place. I had thoughts of suddenly owning different types of cats, as if to ease the misery of losing the other one. I thought of another one of the calicos that my mom had, but this one wasn't good enough. Then I thought of a cat with long, dark, blue-silver hair. This one seemed adequate to take my cat's place. Then I dreamt of waking up and telling Lisa that I had a nightmare that our cat had died. She told me it was not a dream and our cat really was dead.

Top of page
Main page