Posts tagged dreams

movin’ on up…

I just moved to a faaaaaabulous loft downtown, brand new and sexy and gorgeous. They sucked me in with the silver kitchen. Silver. In case you didn’t know, I love silver about as much as I love pink. Since pink isn’t appropriate for everything, some things I prefer in silver. Like my motor vehicles (ok, only because it’s cheaper to buy the silver one than get one painted pink, but i digress) and of course kitchen appliances and cabinets are much better in silver than pink. So as soon as it’s photo-ready, pix will be posted.

So glad I’m enjoying interesting dreams again. Last night I dreamt I was pimping out my brother Gary on some reality dating show back when he was single. For their first meeting, I made him ride up to the chick on his bike, because everyone loves a man on a Ducati. Then I was squeezing through this antique market I’ve been to in other dreams, in some unknown city. Felt like NYC when I passed Andre Léon Talley (with straight, white hair now!) and thought of him as a visitor. He lives in Paris in the real world, creative director for Paris Vogue. Then the space cleared out and that was nice. I remember being unimpressed with what was for sale, though.

Later, I met Mika Kallio, and he was Dominique Aegerter’s new teammate for Moto2. I congratulated him, and told my friend how I knew Dominique. Also, I lived in or was staying in some rambling, massive stitched-together duplex with rooms upon rooms, all partially inhabited. It was one of those old houses they turn into apartments in LA. The real kitchen had fallen into disuse and water shot up out of the hole where the faucet had been, but only if I tried to make the garbage disposal stop. Meanwhile, the owner had set up a makeshift kitchen near a couple of half bathrooms, as I discovered in my quest for a sink to rinse something out. The banquette featured an old black leatherette barca-lounger. Comfortable, I’m sure, but very strange. I’d parked my car down by the railroad tracks, and when I went to get it the next morning, it’d been stripped. Not so much stripped, as completely thrashed by some lunatic. All slashed up and broken up and things destroyed. The police said it was probably someone on drugs. you think? that part was just a manifestation of the anxiety around finding a dirt-cheap yet safe off-street place to stash the damn thing. If I pay $100/month to park it, I may as well sell it, put the money in a savings account and rent the 1-2 times/month I actually use a car…

I need a jacuzzi.

Can’t wait to get back to the ancestral home and test out mom n dad’s new hot tub. It’s been a rough week. Even the fun times were hard. But I went to Whole Foods, stood in the “pharmacy” looking lost, and the most wonderful associate helped me out. I just told her I needed energy and she asked the right questions to get to the root cause, which I agree is B deficiency.

She also pointed out that too much soy can suppress thyroid function, which explains why my thyroid checks out normal, but I have those symptoms- cold and tired. So I got some fabulous protein powder that solves both problems. We’ll see if it brings me up to speed…

Who is this Johnathan Rea guy in WSB I’ve never heard of before??? He’s got some seriously big ones. And damn, I can’t wait to do a track day at Estoril, they’ve got some killer elevation changes!

Sometimes I have these incredibly vivid, ultra-realistic and completely surreal dreams. Last night I had one which was a manifestation of my current feelings about myself re: men. It was very weird and disturbing. Will take quite some time to record it all, but the details are still quite clear, which is unusual, even for me. It’s as if I actually was doing all those crazy things out in the street last night, when I know damn well I was in bed the whole time.

Dreaming of Frisco and Drunkards

So in this dream I was in a car with some coworkers, looking for some restaurant in North Beach. At first it was a right-hand drive car, but then I realized the driver was drunk, as he was slurring and driving like an idiot. I told him I should drive, and he said OK, and we didn’t have to stop and change seats, the controls just became functional on my side. But the brakes didn’t work, which was scary. Luckily we were on a flat stretch, rare in SF. After much pumping, the brakes started working again, and I continued driving.

Damn, I forgot the rest. If I remember it tonight I’ll record it. Anyway, all is right with the world now, Rossi is leading the championship and won Mugello for the 7th time in a row. Oh, and I had a blast at a track day in Savannah, GA this weekend. Awesome track, adorable city.

Oh wait, it’s back. This is the good part. We were out of the car and walking, about to cross a very steep street with a green median. This punk guy was doing a rolling stoppie BACKWARDS up the hill. I was so impressed with his ability to defy physics and modern motorcycle technology, I simply had to stop and talk to him. Plus he was cute. Similar tall/curly blond hair type to the South Africa dream. Hmmm. So while I was asking him how he did it, he told me his name. Jerm.

This was a real blast from the past (shift to reality for a minute here), as Jerm was this skinhead I’d hung out with at this abandoned school that we used to squat in the Haight. So it’s someone I hadn’t seen since 1985. Back to the dream: I asked to see his arm, to see if the time he carved my name in it had left a scar. Turns out he’d not only carved it bigger than all the other girl’s names, but gone ahead and inked it too, so it became a tattoo. Strange behavior for a man who never called or revisited the usual haunts.

Well, while we were talking, my brain had too much trouble accepting the whole “defying physics/mechanics” thing, and morphed his bike into a skateboard. Pfft. anyone can coast a skateboard uphill and launch it off their buddy’s back. OK, maybe in my dreams that’s easy. That was boring, so I morphed it back into a bike, and said goodbye, as my coworkers were anxious to get to the restaurant. Jerm teased me a little for looking so corporate, and I tried to make some joke about how punk rock it is to be a sustainability consultant. But then I remembered it’s more of a hippie thing, which is even worse than being corporate, really.

Dude. I’ve sold out.

Dreaming of South Africa

Just so I don’t forget, I have to write it down. Last night I dreamt I was in South Africa, in Cape Town I assumed because it was on the coast. The water was so still, and so blue, but somewhat distant, beyond some industrial ports and stuff. But that wasn’t the beginning. It starts out at a friend of a friend’s house where I’m staying. It’s like pictures of Greece, all white and smooth. I check the place out, am happy to see they have a real toilet (it’s a humble home) and enough beds for most of us. But no, before that, I was parking my bus out front, and the guy who was our host told me to move it, but not where to, so I parked in back. This was so the guys who lived in their bus in the spot out front could park for the night.

I then went inside and man, there were some weird critters. They had these bugs that were more like those jelly octopus toys, brightly colored and slithering around on stuff. Including my stuff. But when I’d try to pick it off my stuff, it would lose a piece of a tentacle, which was kinda gross. the guy said they were harmless, and seemed to live comfortably with them, so I tried to as well. More people arrived, as the work day ended and they made their way home, and it turned out a LOT of people lived here, as one might expect in a humble home in Cape Town. Our host was a tall white guy with a shaved head, and he was cool, and there were some black girls who lived there too.

But then this one roommate came home and he was stunning. Really tall, with long, super curly blondish hair, fun surfer type. He was a cook at the local market. (I watch too much Anthony Bourdain) He changed out of his work clothes, into what he planned to wear that night. It was awesome! It was this grey herringbone suit, with a 40’s style cut, short jacket with a waistband, very feminine, but big, with a really unique pattern to the herringbone. And well, it was a skirt suit. He was showing me that he thought it was a bit too big, and swung his hips to make the skirt swirl, and I agreed that it was too flippy for a men’s suit. but it was cute. To be funny, he arched his back, then I could see he was wearing a red ladies thong. Interesting.

Somehow the house was connected to University Mall, or some mall just like it, and I wound up there, looking for people for awhile. It was annoying, but I wound up meeting up with my brothers, and that was nice. Then I was out front again, and looking toward the water. I saw a bus stop and let a white couple off. They were clearly headed to the beach, and all lovey-dovey. A vendor handed them a beach mat, and almost immediately after, some ran right between them and snatched it. They looked dismayed and frightened, but didn’t leave.

Anyway, suffice to say, now I am finally getting excited about going to South Africa next month. I’ve been so caught up in this fashion show I’m merchandising at school, (hence the fashion and mall stuff) and dreaming (awake) of Barcelona next SPRING, I haven’t had time to think about South Africa. But dreaming about it made it feel more real.

Oy Vey

I should be doing homework but am so fried from herding cats and running around all crazy like that all I can do is catch up on the last 5 hours of e-mails and plan on going to bed very soon. but first, a more interesting interlude. I had this really lucid dream the other night…

I was in London, on Oxford Rd. looking for my favorite restaurant, Cranks. I hadn’t been there in years, so I figured I’d splurge and look it up on my iPhone. I have read horror stories about people using their iPhone overseas and being raped by AT&T, but I really wanted to just do a quick map check. Well. Some crazy virus got in through whatever cell network I was on, and started forcibly downloading all these MOVIES, major high-bandwidth stuff, into my phone! I was freaking out, trying to make it stop, and it wouldn’t. In the meantime, I walked across the street the wrong way, to get to where I wanted to go, and wound up walking all the way around the intersection to get back to the corner I needed.

Weird, but the sort of thing I’d do awake to not have to stop moving, if all the lights were in a certain path. So I wound up where I needed to be, iPhone still being hijacked, and slipped into a very narrow alleyway on the north side of the street. There was this familiar antiques dealer, even though this block on the real Oxford Rd. is nothing but mega-stores. So I browsed the same dusty antiques the dealer had carried back in ’89 when I lived there, and wondered why they never sold. The whole area behind the facades of Oxford Rd. was dusty, decrepit and fragile. I wandered deeper, and well, I can’t recall the rest.

Be careful what you wish for…

Because last night’s intentional dreaming went so well, I told myself to dream of romance tonight. I think I need to be more specific next time. It was weird and kinda boring. I was at this “resort” in the middle of Manhattan I’d been to in previous dreams. It was in the jewlery district, and I was wearing a gigantic emerald-cut diamond ring someone (a close friend, actually) had given me. I didn’t think it was an engagement ring, since we’re not friendly like that. But it was a bigun, that’s for sure.

I wanted to know if it was really a diamond, so I asked one of the gnarled little old men working in a fine jewelery shop to have a look at it. He told me to just try cutting glass with it, and that bothered me because here I was, standing in front of a professional, and all he had to do was give it a good once-over. Instead he’s telling me to do something I’ve always known I could do. I was hesitant, but a piece of glass presented itself, so I tried. It kinda broke, but not all the way through. So I was still unsure. Then there was some boring wandering through various stone dealer’s shops, trying to find someone who’d give me a proper appraisal of the stone.

Then I happened to wander to the pool area and ran into my friends Britt and Jean Marc. Who are married, and one of those “Ideal biker couples” I admire. So I guess that’s the romance part of the dream. Either that or I’m so materialistic that the ring is all I need? And where was my concern for the poor miners in all of this? Is my subconscious really so heartless that it only cares about the veracity of the diamond and not the social responsibilty of its origins?

It was really funny seeing Jean Marc, because he’d grown his hair out and dyed it to be just like Britt’s. So now he looked like some surfer dude with streaked long blond hair. We hung out for a spell, shooting the breeze. Then I had to walk down some street to find something. Don’t remember much more, as is often the case when the alarm wakes you 3 hours ahead of your natural wake-up time.

Fabulous dreams

So there I was complaining about dreaming about work all week…I told myself, tonight, self, we’re dreaming about something FUN! No more deadlines, no more hassles, no more pressure. When I go to sleep I want to have fun, dammit! And damned if I didn’t get invited to a slammin’ party! It was this huge banquet, with all these tables of food, in some ancient Catholic church. I wandered around a bit, saw some friend, played the social butterfly. My parents were there, as well as some people I knew from work, but it was a bona-fide party. Stacey gave me this awesome Cartier bracelet to wear, since she’s a PR rep and has connections like that.

The bracelet was wood, with some pink diamonds on it, and the clasp was a little weird. I couldn’t get the security clasp to work, and wound up just re-designing it. What good is a dream if you can’t make it up as you go along? I wandered through the buffet tables, then decided on some white caviar, as I’d never seen white caviar before. Something caught my attention, and when I returned to the caviar table, the waiter had just cleared it. So I had to order some. Took forever, but it finally came and I guess I ate it. The only thing I really remember eating was the extra cheeses I ordered, not having seen the cheese table. Oops. Everyone was supposed to pitch in $15, and some didn’t, and I owed extra because of the cheese, so in the end settling the bill was a hassle.

But what was really cool is that in this Catholic church, they were finally allowing a female priest to “perform” (forgot the right word) the ceremony! Perhaps that’s what the party was all about. It was the first time, after all. I was so stoked that one of the most pig-headed religious sects had decided to get with the program and join the modern wold. I wondered if they’d finally seen the light about anything else, like birth control. But then I joined my parents in the tiny chapel off to the side. It was boring and stuffy in there, and I realized that these were the people who, like my parents so many years ago with the Episcopalian church, didn’t want change. I was torn between staying with my folks and joining the party. Yet in reality, I had no trouble making that choice. The minute I was confirmed, and my soul was in my hands, I stopped going to church. I still have my doubts about this whole “soul” concept anyway.

another nifty dream

Well, there I was floating down the 280, en route to some job interview or something in Silicon Valley. I was so happy to be on the bus, so that I could sleep. It was so nice to curl up and sleep on the way to anywhere. Yet I was floating down the freeway, suspended in mid-air, almost as if I were riding an invisible and very comfortable motorcycle. I had something on my head, but I think it was just the wig, no helmet. I was wearing this lavender faille jacket I’d done while working at Betsey, like that was my good interview jacket. I had on some Rozae-style skirt, with a softly folded hem. I was happy for the chance to dress like a girl, as I always am when the opportunity arises. As I floated down the freeway, there was almost no traffic. A burgundy mid-80’s corrolla pulled alongside me and paced me. I looked over and saw two smiling Mexican ladies. The driver reached out to hand me the bobby pins which had fallen out of my wig as I floated down the freeway. I thanked her profusely and wondered how the hell she managed to collect them while driving. Did she stop and pick them up, or simply grab them as they flew by? So then I realized I had to transfer to the CalTrain at Daly City, and was kinda bummed cuz it meant I’d have to wake up enough to get from the bus (what bus?) to the train. The Daly City station was not like it is. It was just a simple little parking lot with a few busses going in and out. I had to be sure to get on the right bus. And then I really did have to wake up.

Marie Antoinette was two days ago, and still I’m dreaming in Baroque….I really do wish I could just walk around dressed like that (or rather, my version) all the time. Well, there’s always halloween. Even though once upon a time, every day was halloween…

Monterey Hotels and Pastel Pink Mohawks

I had this scary dream that woke me up at the ungodly hour of 7:30 this morning. In the dream, it was Friday, Monterey, MotoGP ’07. We went to our hotel after a long day at the track, only to find they’d given our room to someone else!!! And of course there were no hotel rooms left in Monterey. I was sooo pissed, and couldn’t stop thinking about it. It got me so mad I was wide awake, and could have started my day early. But no, instead, I went back to sleep and had a wonderful dream. In it, I realized I had a camper so I didn’t need no damn hotel room! The hotel we’d had was a funky old hippie B&B, and I walked out the door into my camper, parked out front. I also had something else really cool, but forget what it was. I wondered where I’d park for the night, and kinda drove around Monterey checking out different spots. Being a dream, of course one could park and sleep in their camper anywhere they damn well pleased. It was a small and kinda ratty camper, but it was a free place to crash in a town notorious for hotels doing their best to scare off tourists by completely gouging us.

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