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June 1992

Jun4 - Jun 10 - Jun 14 - Jun 16 - Jun 18 - Jun 26 - Jun 27 - Jun 29

June 4, 1992

I was in Mexico with Lisa. I don't know how I knew it was Mexico, but I just knew. Lisa and I were driving in a car in an alley. We were driving along and the walls of the buildings that defined the walls of the alley were made of brick, the same dull red, dirty color that you picture bricks to be. The alley is narrow, wide enough to fit one and a half cars, maybe two, but that's it. Lisa and I are traveling along this alley, maybe at a slight incline. The alley, where we are at, is about thirty feet long until there is a corner to the left. The right side is sealed off by more bricks and whatever buildings there may be there. I think there are people, children perhaps, roaming about, but not a whole lot. As Lisa and I are driving along this alley in a northerly direction in some kind of car (I'm not sure what kind of car but it was small and unimportant), we saw some kind of vehicle coming towards us. It was strange, like it wasn't really a car but rather, a medium-sized windblown object. I can only describe it as maybe triangular in shape but lightweight and light brown, maybe translucent. It came towards us and went past us as we drove to the end of the corner in the alley. Lisa and I recognized this as a police car of some kind, although I don't know why because it sure in the hell didn't resemble one. It was like this vehicle passed us only so it could get behind us. It did and it stopped us. I remember the policeman as he approached me and began his procedural questioning. He was a young man, perhaps twenty-two or around there, and he had short blond hair. He was very apprehensive, as if I were the first person he ever pulled over in his life and he was worried he might not get it right. He looked uncomfortable and almost apologetic, finding it hard to make eye contact with me. He approached and we made the usual greetings when a pedestrian is confronted by an officer of the law. He inquired if I had been drinking and I told him no, which, in my dream, I hadn't, but at that moment I had a suspicion that maybe I had drunk a Seagram's Seven and 7-Up. Actually I had, but it was before I went to bed in real life, so I was safe in my dream. My breath wouldn't smell of alcohol in my dream, but the cop gave me a breathalyzer anyway. Still being his timid self, he put some kind of surgical mouth piece over my mouth, like the kind you imagine doctors wearing in surgery. When he did this, he also put his fingers to my nose and pressed the nostrils shut so that I would only breath out my mouth and thus, produce a true reading of what my breath would really portray as far as what I have ingested, or drank. I'm sure I passed the drunk and "cop" test because the next thing I remember is being in a Mexican bar. Lisa is by my side for the rest of the dream although there are a lot of other things happening and my attention focuses on them. When the two of us sit down, we are confronted right away by Mexican men. They are real friendly. I remember talking to a couple of Mexican guys that sat to the left of me. We spoke and I really couldn't comprehend what the hell they were saying so I just said "Si", as if in surrender of, or inability to, communicate. The Mexican guys found this amusing and laughed among themselves, understanding that we were from different worlds and therefore accepting me as one of them anyway. I remembered one Mexican in particular and of course he had black hair and dark skin like all Mexicans do. He smiled and then bought me a drink to show that he was a new found friend. I felt comfortable and a group of us sat there and mingled. We sat in these seats where the bar was in front of us, several tables and chairs and maybe a small dance floor separating us from the bar. Behind us was some kind of stage or place where the entertainment was situated. There was some kind of railing that ran along the backs of our seats like this was some kind of divider between us and the entertainment. There came a time when Lisa and I wanted to leave. I started to get up to go, but then this Mexican man, some guy in his forties or so, shoved a pool cue, fat end first, between me and the place where I wanted to exit, which was to my right. I looked up and he said something like, "If you wanna leave then you have to go with her." He pointed to a woman off to my left and seated down a few tables. I didn't recognize her, but I did know that she was this man's daughter. I didn't question the threat because I was in a foreign country and knew that there was some strange reason for him wanting me to leave this bar with his daughter, but what that could have been, I have no idea. I looked at his daughter, which was woman about twenty or so years old, just a youngin'. I looked to her like I wanted to leave and she said to me something like, "OK I'll leave but after a few more minutes." She seemed to be enjoying herself and didn't want to leave the party atmosphere just yet. She had shoulder length dark brown hair, with just a tint of red highlights, and she looked like no one I know. Meanwhile, I found myself trapped in my seat. The man of this daughter held the fat end of the pool stick across my path to departure, blocking me from leaving. I looked up at him and he may have glanced at me threateningly as if to say "Yeah I've got my eye on you." After a while, the woman who I was supposed to leave with or else, approached me and grabbed me quickly, indicating that we had to move fast so I could get out of this bar without her daddy noticing. The pool stick didn't seem to be in the way and I bounded after this woman, following her as if my life depended on it. Lisa was with us as well. We moved quickly. The daughter/woman led us through some back doors of this building as if she were leading us to a way out. I remember traveling through a swinging door, like it went into a kitchen or something. The next thing I knew, we were upstairs in this place and the woman led us out to an open area where the floor ended. Below us was the bar where we were just half a minute earlier. Apparently we were supposed to travel out across the floor as far as we could go and although it made no sense to me, I figured the woman knew what she was doing. It was strange because it was like the floor blended in with some table tops that, at that point, were part of the floor. They were round, light colored table tops, the kind you might see in a bar, and I don't remember them having legs to them. It was as if they were suspended in air. There were about four or five table tops in all, the first few being rather solid but as I walked out among them, I realized that the ones on the outer edge were swaying and weren't really stable. I think I was first and the woman may have just watched. Below me was the bar room. I recall seeing the vastness of the place as I viewed it from above. At this point, I kind of figured that this was not the way out and that maybe the daughter of the man who hated me had led me (us) on a wild goose chase. I'm not sure, but I may have fallen down into the crowd because the last table top was so unsteady. I approached them running and didn't really slow down. It wasn't until I was at the last table top that I realized I was stuck.

June 10, 1992

I'm not really sure where I was when I first realized what was going on, but apparently, myself, my sister Hannah, and my brothers Charles, Dexter and Ron were all being accused of raping and murdering a donkey or some other similar type animal. It was really bizarre. I remember being on a gravel road, about forty feet onto it from where it turned off from an asphalt road. I think we were all there; me, Hannah, Dexter, Ron and Charles. The one I talked to though, was Hannah. We were on this gravel road and the scenery around us reminded me of the roads out by the property that mom and dad used to own by Case Inlet; madrono trees, dry multicolored brush. There was a long metal fence, with one long bar across the top and another angling down from the top of one side to the bottom of another. It's like we were going to go past the fence to wherever beyond it took us. It was at this point that I remember talking to Hannah. Apparently she had been to court or something and told me that we had all been found guilty of raping and murdering a donkey, or whatever the hell it was. She seemed pretty serious, showing the graveness of the situation. I was astounded because I had not raped and murdered a donkey and because I wasn't even there at the trial and I wondered how the hell they could put me on trial and convict me when I wasn't even there. I think we may have swung the fence open, or were about to do it. I remember saying to Hannah something like, "What is this shit about a donkey?" and I was pretty pissed. There may have been another charge about another animal or something, but I can't exactly remember what that was about. At the end of the gravel road, where it connected to the main asphalt road, a group of about five people was walking by and they were looking at us as we talked. There was also some memory of seeing a fish, like I had caught it and was going to eat it. It was silver, like a steelhead.

June 14, 1992

For some reason, Lisa had made a deal to buy a different house than the one we live in now. The deal was signed by her and I don't know what she was thinking, but the new place was a dump. I was confused about how I should feel about this new adjustment because I wasn't even involved in the transactions or dealings or signature in buying this different house, and I couldn't remember agreeing to move out of the place we live in now. This new house was a run-down piece of junk. I remember being inside, and the living room was there by the front door, then I remember being in the kitchen. There was a dirt floor in the kitchen and this floor stretched out into the living room, where there may have been a wooden floor or something like that. This house did not even compare to the place we live in now but in this dream, I came to accept it as our new home. I don't think there was running water or even electricity. I remember saying to Lisa that "we were spoiled", as if this meant that we didn't deserve the house we used to live in and were more in our designated place with society with this house. This house was situated in a crowded, busy neighborhood and I was worried about how I could adjust. I remember hearing and maybe seeing kids riding their bikes right outside the house, showing a contrast to where we used to live. I remember hearing my next-door neighbor, just on the other side of the living room wall, typing and I thought "Well at least I can still write without bothering my neighbors" because I figured if I typed and this guy heard it, it would be okay because I could hear him type. I think the street was right outside my front door and kind of reminded me of the alley in the dream I had just a few nights ago about Lisa and I being in Mexico. Later, I was starting to wonder if we still could get back into our original house because I don't think the deal was closed yet. There was some worry as I wondered if just because the deal wasn't closed yet, didn't mean that I could back out and reclaim my original house, which I most certainly wanted to do.

June 16, 1992

I was on the Nisqually River, rafting with some guys just like I did a few weeks ago with Spanky, Ulmann, Stuart and Charles. I remember Ulmann being there, but I'm not sure who the other guys were, although they were probably Spanky, Stuart and Charles. We were on the water and I remember telling one of the other guys how I wanted to float down the river in his one-man raft because I was tired of always being in my two-man raft. I think we may have discussed that I would indeed be in a one-man raft, but I don't think the change ever took place. I was still in the two-man raft and I remember seeing Ulmann standing in the water, which was about knee-high. Apparently he and I were supposed to go down the river in the raft together. He had gotten out for some reason or another, perhaps we were taking a break, and now it was time for him to get back in the raft. But I was playing with him, not letting him in. I remember him standing there, telling me to stop moving so he could get in the raft, but instead I situated my oar in the water so it would swing the boat around, thus propelling me downstream. I'm not sure if I intended to leave him there because he wouldn't let me use his one-man, or if I was just teasing him, but I never can remember Ulmann ever getting into the raft. Somewhere in the dream I remember looking off to my right and seeing a white oval shape about four feet beneath the surface. I think this may have been some kind of lake creature, sitting on the bottom, but I'm not sure. I wasn't scared of it, although I'm sure I was reluctant to paddle anywhere near it. There may have been some other instances where fish or whatever from the river played a part in this dream, but I can't remember.

June 18, 1992

I was living in an apartment which reminded me of the place where Shantell Studster used to live. There was a bunch of us living there, like a bunch of partiers, a scene from the trailer zone old days. There was a feeling that it was night time, although I don't think it was dark. One of the people who lived in this apartment, a girl/woman, came home and entered the apartment. I watched her from outside from underneath the car port that was there. I knew that the apartment had been partied in a lot lately and I knew this woman would be mad about how messy it was. I reluctantly walked in after the woman, seeing what I knew was there; garbage and drugs everywhere. There were little piles of pot on the carpet immediately inside the front door, placed like they were going to be bagged up to sell or something. When this woman opened the door, she topped off one of the piles, sending brown, Colombian-type pot scattering about. When she saw me, she started bitching at me, saying how she wanted this mess cleaned up and how she was mad at the crap everywhere. I could hardly get a word in edge-wise, but when I finally did I explained to her that I had nothing to do with this mess and that I agreed with her, that it needed to be cleaned up and that I didn't want to live this way either. I didn't think I was going to clean it up, but I convinced her that I was on her side.

June 26, 1992

I was in a guy's house. I'm not sure who this guy was, but I think he was really rich. There were some other people there, but I don't remember who they were. The rich guy reminded me of an actor, whose name I can't remember, something like Leonard Pipsmith or something. I don't know what I was doing in this place. I was probably partying, just enjoying the evening. The guy told us that we should all spend the night. Then I noticed that it was close to midnight and I expressed concern because I was supposed to be at work at midnight and I had to be going to get to work. This man apparently owned the place where I worked, and I kept talking about my dilemma, hoping he would OK my absence at work so I could stay at his house and party. Then he picked up a phone, dialed some numbers and was then talking with someone at where I worked. He told them that it was okay for me not to show up for work that night. I was glad about that, but this guy did seem a little odd, like he was hiding something, but I could have been wrong. I was walking around this house and I guess I was downstairs. There was a bathroom or something like that, its door ajar. This room was situated underneath a staircase, and I think there was a big mirror on the door, or I just remember seeing the large mirror in the bathroom. I never entered the bathroom however, but I recall seeing the man who owned the house in there. Then a guy suddenly appeared, as if he had walked in through the front door. He had a crew cut, almost completely bald, with black nubs defining his hairline. He gave me the impression that he was gay. He looked at me and walked by, looking for the man. I could tell they needed to discuss something privately so I walked away. The crew cut guy went into the bathroom and asked the man if he needed any more, and I knew he was referring to cocaine. The man said no, that he had enough. I think we were doing coke in this dream, but I can't really remember.
I was on a bus, like a Greyhound bus, with Susan and I think Constance. We were sitting at the back of the bus and Constance was talking about something. Susan and I leaned closer to see what she was talking about. She had a piece of paper and was referring to this when she talked. Susan began asking about the cigarette burn on my left hand. She was being weird. As the three of us started walking towards the front of the bus to get off, Susan screamed real silly and ran past us to the front of the bus, which, at the time, was amusing, like she was being outgoing and funny. I think she had her hair in pigtails. The next thing I remember is being with Georgia Simcox, the receptionist from work. We were in a car, and I think I may have been driving but I was in the passenger seat. The car was a convertible. I remember driving along this road and we wanted to make sure we drove over at least two hills before we stopped. The hills were not big, but big enough to prevent us from seeing what was on the other side of them. We drove over two hills then I think we stopped for some reason. I think Georgia may have also been one of the people in the house at the beginning of this dream.

June 27, 1992

All I remember about this dream is a pickup truck. I think it was mine or maybe a friend was showing it to me. It was a metallic blue and looked like a Chevy. It had a wide bed, but the guy who owned it explained that he had it designed that way. The truck bed was designed to have about another foot and a half added onto its width. I thought about this, thinking about how it was neat to be able to tell a dealer what you wanted and they would make it to your specifications. The extra width on the truck was somehow related to the width that I plan on adding to a garage we're going to have one built in the future, for a studio. The extra width on the truck didn't look like it was big enough to set up equipment in and jam, so I whipped out a yardstick or some other similar measuring tool, and checked the width. It turned out to be the width I had specified for the jam room, it's just that now that I was looking at it, I realized that it would have to be wider to fit my needs for jamming.

June 29, 1992

This was a scary dream. I lived in an apartment, either by myself or with someone else, I can't remember, but there were other people in this dream, none of whom were familiar to me. The creature from the movie Alien was in this dream, although I don't think I really saw too much of this beast, if at all. A lot of stuff happened in this dream, but I'm really unsure as to when they happened. There was a gloomy hallway, a corridor with little light with windows to the right and I remember two doors on the left. The hallway seemed tilted kind of, like I was standing at an angle and the hallway was tilted to the left to about thirty degrees. I think I may have looked outside the windows because I have this vision of seeing a scummy alley, like this apartment I lived in was in the slums. I may have seen a fire escape. I don't remember walking down the hallway, but I do remember thinking that the Alien monster was behind one of the doors. For some reason, the alien was only after me, not after anyone else that lived there. I do remember going to different parts of the apartment, I guess to find areas where the alien wasn't so I could travel about this place without having to worry about meeting it. I went to a place that was hard to explain; it was like I had to climb to an opening in the wall that was covered by cupboards that resembled the doors on the attic above my bathroom off the bedroom, only they were square and there were four of them together. I remember the feeling like this was a place where the alien was not. There were different people that I associated with in this dream. I remember talking to someone about getting a certain black guy to help me out with my alien dilemma. I don't know who this black guy was but I think he was an actor, either Billy Dee Williams, Jim Brown or some other actor. There was some activity with him, but I can't remember just what that may have fucking been. There was a scene where there were about six of us sitting around, talking to each other, maybe about the alien. I only remember distinctly two of the people there; the black guy and another smart-ass white guy that kind of reminded me of Billy Idol, although he didn't look like him, he just resembled him (if that makes any sense). We were in a hallway against some elevators or some other alcove type place, my back against the wall and the other people sitting more out in the open hallway. It was like a tenants meetings or something. The one smart-ass guy had short reddish hair, although I don't really know if it was red, that's just the feeling I got. He kept saying something mean, referring to the black guy who I hired to help me with the alien. The black guy appeared to be tied up in his chair, ropes circling around him as he sat calmly. He was sitting (the black guy) in front of me, in the shadows caused by the corners of the closed-in hallway type setting. It was weird, but this smart-ass guy may have been the one that someone said the mean comments about. It was unclear who said that statement or who it was about. The white smart-ass guy was sitting in a chair in front of me, about ten or so feet away, and slightly off to the left. He was looking at the person who was saying these things to him, who was sitting off to the right and out in the light, but I never looked at him/her so I don't know who it was. The smart-ass guy kept just out of reach of this other person, like the person was trying to grab the smart-ass, or hit him or something. The smart-ass snarled just like Billy Idol while this was going on. Later I was in a bedroom in the apartment, apparently my bedroom. There was a queen-sized bed against the wall in back of me and in front of me were several large windows that, apparently, overlooked the gloomy alley. Thin, see-through curtains covered the windows. It was night out. There were at least one or two people in the room with me, one of them was my roommate, whoever that was. I was preparing a shotgun for a confrontation with the alien. I think this was the old 12 gauge that I got in Arkansas a long time ago. I remember pumping it (although what I have is not a pump), and the barrel opened up, like those skinny wiry things that you stick down drains to get the shit out of, that have the button on the end that you push and the four prongs open up. I pumped the shotgun a couple of times and I think a shell fell out. I think I explained to someone that they must use this to shoot the alien if it came. For some reason I wasn't happy with the performance of the 12 gauge, so I had a 7mm rifle in mind after that. This was a strange 7mm. It was constructed of several layers of thin spongy type foam, the type of material that those dish scouring sponges are made of, with the green scouring pad on one side and the sponge on the other, only this was all sponge, about a quarter inch thick. There were several layers of this spongy material, about half a foot tall and three feet long. The end of this spongy stuff, which was actually a 7mm rifle, swayed uncertainly because there was no stiffness to make it stay in place. The color of the rifle (sponge) was pink, but the other layers could have been some other color. I somehow loaded some 7mm shells into this thing and had the barrel end of the gun pointing up towards the ceiling. The gun accidentally went off and nearly grazed my chin. I remember talking to someone about how lucky I was that I didn't shoot myself. There was a finger hole near the barrel end of the rifle, and I explained to someone that the way you shoot this gun was to put your finger in this hole and jerk the gun towards you, thus discharging the trigger and shooting the gun. Apparently this was the only way to shoot the gun because it was so soft and spongy that it couldn't take a regular hold-and-shoot stance.

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