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Saturday, May 29, 2004


I had a pair of shoes! And there were aliens that were melting people with glowing, neo-green worms! And they melted the lead lady! And my shoes were red and white babyshoes,but I was wearing them! And I could fly, but for some stupid fucking reason I didn't! I ran into the woods and the fat lady alien thing was chasing me!! BRRRR!!!!

Friday, May 28, 2004


Such dreams last night. I was with my mate, in his black 2004 car, in a parking lot somewhere. I don't know if it was Kyra, in my dreams it might have been. I can't say, because I'd cried myself to sleep. But in the dream were coupled, entwined, and loved one another in a way he never would in life. The backseat was our bed. And we lay there, done, beneath my jacket which somehow covered us both. People walked by us, glared int he windows. He was asleep. A policeman came and demanded we leave, so we did. Without my mate, I came home and there were people digging holes in my yard so they could sleep. I passed out blankets, but there wasn't enough to keep everyone warm. I fretted, because it was going to get very cold, and I tried very hard to work out an arrangement for everybody so they each could have their own hole and be warm. There were some people who shared their space, and they needed fewer blankets of course. I had to sleep alone, though, but in doing so I knew I was going to freeze to death because I had given most of my blankets away.

Thursday, May 27, 2004


We'd moved, and we were poor.. it was the Fernandina version of New Jersey. So last night I sort of relived the darkest period of my life. Many details were changed dramatically. The boy wouldn't go to bed. He kept trying to follow us in the road, but finally I had the children settled. Child welfare came. I demanded someone of our nation and told the two White women to get out of my home. The White women became Black women and still I pointed them to the door. I was sent to a Hopi caseworker in his earth home. He looked like someone I had seen at a poetry reading a few months ago. Tall, rounded, big-boned, black bushy ponytail. I explained to him how my son had done well when he had a case worker (for his emotional problems) that had been reservation-trained, and how the minute we moved to NJ things went very bad. How the people there told us that we had to just "adapt to a White world" and how things got steadily worse because they were more interested in molding him and harming us than they were in understanding and helping. I told him that this was why - now that I had both children again - I wasn't going to stand for it. He said that the White woman I turned away was his friend. I told him that it didn't matter. He said that being poor did not mean one was abusive or unfit. I said that was exactly my point. (Thinking of New Jersey) He told me that my case was cleared, that I was a good mother. I went home to an empty house, for while I spoke to the man the White women had come and stolen my children away. The revisited grief is the same, despite the change in circumstance. In real life I sent my son away to protect him from the hands of an abusive White bigot, and I still have custody today for all he lives with his father for now. In my dream, both of my children were stolen. I tried calling my father (although in real life he wouldn't have done a damn thing) but could not get through. I lost my job because of it: I couldn't go to work, because I was desperately searching. There were people around me, but they only watched. When I saw a caseworker I demanded my children back, but I might as well as been invisible. The dream changed at some point, and I was once again in my parents' neighborhood. A barrel of my belongings had been stolen off of the side of the road, and I was looking for them. I knew they had been buried. The children still had not been returned, and this was in the back of my mind. Two men came down the road with shovels, picked an empty driveway and started to dig. I went to them and told them straight up that if they had my barrel they were giving it back. They stopped digging and said that anything found on private property belonged to the property owner. For some odd reason a tall city worker (for lights maybe) appeared from my left. He had some red on him. It was his equipment; a belt of tools and whatnot. He pointed out a city marker that was behind the men and told them that whatever was here was public property, and as such I had the right to reclaim it. It almost started a physical confrontation. One of the thieves was very tall, and he said something that pissed me off. Being very small, I couldn't quite reach a particular height. I tried to punch his nose anyway. The people around me laughed, but I didn't care. I tried again. I wanted very much to hurt this man. And my children still had not been returned. The alarm rang, ending the dream. I wonder what was in that barrel.

Tuesday, May 25, 2004

High Chairs (dream, visitation)

I slept much of the day away yesterday because a fugue had decended over me. I considered myself tired, and I gave in. I slept for hours, abut it wasn't until I had gotten up for a moment, socialized, and went back to bed that I realized my assumptions were incorrect. I lay there in the bed Watching things the way I often do. There were desk-chairs such as one would find in a traditional classroom setting. They had switched at one point, and the one I possessed now had been passed to me at some previous time. I do not know how much previous. When you're Inhuman, thirty seconds could be a hundred thousand years. Someone said to me,"I want you to pass (on) your chair." The voice was melodic, but synthetic. The colors that resonated from it were pure, but they were also colors that I have no human name for. I do not know if I knew the voice or not, but I felt no fear. I opened my eyes and stared at my wall for a moment, registering what had just happened. Immediately, my response was "Fat chance!" I did not feel any particular emotion except a faint curiosity. There was, too, a stoic stubborness. Who was this to tell me what to do? Better yet, let me Order them to pass on Their chair. Let us see where they will sit then!

Friday, May 14, 2004


I dream of it on occasion. It's old, an old Plantation house, and it has a small graveyard in the back. It's abandoned and in severe disrepair, and everytime I drive by it or walk by it or whatever I am doing, I stop and sneak past the chainlink fence around it (it's in an old downtown area, like Fernandina Beach or St. Augustine... colonial.. or something) and I walk around it. One time I even went into it. And always I spend most of the dream wishing to the gods I could buy it, fix it up, save it from crumbling to dust.... even though its haunted and cursed. So it was there again last night as me and my friend Margaret rode around. I can't remember what we were up to.. mostly nothing, I think. We stopped at a park and I played. Then on the way home, we went through the house's back yard for some strange reason. There was a preacher living there suddenly and his pretty wife. I stopped to talk to them, and by this time Margaret was gone. It's a pity because Margaret was the most brightly colored thing in the dream. I was asking the preacher about the graveyard in the back, and I only slightly took personal note that his clothing was slightly old fashioned. He was dressed in black with a high white color, button like Men in Black, but my mind told me this was a 1900's shirt. But I continued to write notes and as I was writing, he asked me to quote something. I happened to look down at my writing while he spoke and I noticed that I'd accidentally written the word "death" instead of something else. It was like seeing double for a moment as I watched myself look back at the man in astonishment while I furiously looked down and scribbled out the word in panic. All this from those points of view while I stood to my own left and watched it happen. I said, "You're DEATH!" and the little narrator in my mind said, "Yep, the clairvoyance doesn't lie." The preacher looked at me blankly for a moment, but he did not deny it. By this time, the pretty wife had vanished and it was just he and I on the house's backporch. "Why do you want me so badly?" I cried. Death discarded his human vicage to become a black shadow of the likes I haven't seen in ages. He grew and slid towards me while his eyes and mouth, now round holes as they melted into his true form, gaped. I could see the house through him. He said, "Haven't you figured it out yet?" and wrapped himself around me. His mouth cupped by my neck and left ear, and I thought he was going to devour me then and there. I was wrapped completely in him, and all I could see was his chocolately brown-black darkness. I did not struggle, because I knew what to do. I opened my mouth, and I began to suck up his essence. I bit and sucked and swallowed, and I could feel my fangs (which I rarely reveal), and soon he jerked once, jerked twice, and then jerked away and left me there alone in the house's backyard. That'll teach the motherfucker, won't it. *grin*