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Digital Dream Diary, 3.2018

How was my sleepy March madness? Interesting, to say the least.

I’ve noticed that I have some recurring locations in dreams, which I never noticed in my life until now. The place in question is a mall of sorts that usually is a hybrid school or airport or something mixed in between.

Also of note: I had a nude dream, which I’ve never had before. Next thing to do: have a flying dream. I’ve never had one of those either!

These are the top selections from the Digital Dream Diary for March 2018. If you have any insight into what any of this may mean, please let me know.

Friday, 3.2.2018, Los Angeles, CA
I am in a suburban town that is organized like the Hollywood Hills, small streets with houses stacked upon each other. I’m looking for an Airbnb with Bobby while driving a woman I do not know in a car. We go into a few houses to stay the night but realize they are not our Airbnb and we quietly sneak out. We eventually go to a sci-fi amusement park, something that looks like Disneyland but is focused on everything from Star Wars to Alien, Alf to Tribbles. We are in a space saga, trying to figure out what happened to an alien. Myself and Bobby and the crew are running all around, trying to track down this humanoid alien. One of the crew – a tall, blonde, skinny woman named Katie – is missing. I note this early in our search. No one seems worried and we go about our day. There is a strange Chili’s-like restaurant on the spaceship. We all eat there. There is a child like Ava Ryan who I was babysitting and entertaining. We eventually have to go back to work on the spaceship. The ship shakes and something happens. We look at a giant screen: Katie was the alien and had stolen something important. She travels in a pod made of pods that looks like the giant anus thing in Annihilation but made from these pods that look like from palm sized glowing circles with black nipples. I knew it was her, I think. Then we all realize the entire space saga was a ride in this park. Bobby and I go to a Catholic church, something we would never do. It’s on a military post. Everyone is very nice. We volunteer to work with kids. “I actually kind of like it here,” Bobby says. I’m shocked but also pleased. I feel like this is a place we should be.

Sunday, 3.4.2018, Los Angeles, CA
Too drunk to dream.

Monday, 3.5.2018, Los Angeles, CA
Too tired to dream.

Tuesday, 3.6.2018, Los Alamos, CA
I keep being late and forgetting things. I keep running up and down stairs. I’m doing something wrong but nothing’s happening to me. There are no consequences. Then I took a shower for hours. People kept knocking, asking if I was alright or done. Was this what I did wrong?

Thursday, 3.8.2018, Los Angeles, CA
I’m traveling for work. I’m walking around a mall that is a giant food court. It’s setup like a cruise ship but is a building. I go to my hotel, where I apparently live. It gets progressively messier. I take business meetings there, one of which is with Miles Fisher, who is an acquaintance. I’m trying to hide my mess while being professional. I’m also in a nice shirt and underwear but no one seems to care. I’m then hanging out with Kobe Bryant and my friend Kristen. We’re having a dinner at an event which I realize was arranged for me since I’m starring in a commercial where Kobe and I (and Kristen) are at a concert, dancing, while playing basketball. I’m nervous because I am terrible at basketball. Kobe tries to comfort me. The Spice Girls perform. We forget about the commercial. I wake up trying to remember the first verse of “Wannabe.”

Monday, 3.12.2018, Los Angeles, CA
I am travelling. My dad is too. He’s having a dofficult time getting around, often confused and lost. I keep leaving and he doesn’t trust that I can find my way. Kristen is there because she is moving here. I keep comig back to the airport to prove I know where I am. I run into Brittany and her girlfriend, who tell me to look around. I am in school. It may or may not be in a mall. My mentor tells me about a class I’m in that is an intensive about one word of each person’s choosing. I pick “relinquish” and send him thoughts on the word. The day of the class comes and I’ve gotten zero information on it. “Why aren’t you in class?” He steps out of a lecture in a music studio to ask. “You never emailed me,” I reply. I find the message he got but didnt see and forward it. He huffs and walks away. A bunch of other stufents decide to leave. I go woth them but I’m in the word class, which they are not. I decide to stay, to be salty, to prove I am a good stufent and this wasn’t my fault. The new instructor, Jojo from undergrad, is there and very mean.

Friday, 3.16.2018, Los Angeles, CA
It’s Thanksgiving and I am in a new, big apartment. I am preparing a feast but I don’t have any furniture. Guests start showing up, bringing food but also things to furnish the apartment. We simultaneously design the space while organizing to eat. It’s a feast but my dad keeps being weird about the situation. There are a few random gifts or arrangements that don’t work — a bench for the end of a bed, plates that won’t stack, etc. — that I’d love to fix but the settup is quite nice. We decide to leave dinner and end up at a hybrid art museum and zoo. We want to go in but are captivated by a performance outside, taking place in a souvenir tent: a leashed fish – a discus – fused with a large dog sized fox is growling, each snarl causing it’s sharp, feet long spines to flex. It’s not happy. No one in the gift shop notices it. The doscus-fox is extremely colorful, bright and vivid, but terrifying. It appears as if it could eat a child. We, the audience, watch in terror as shoppers pass by unwittingly. The discus-fox eventually settles down, shrinking to the size of a plate. It settles into a pan of water, lying flat on the bottom of the surface. A loud tourist walks up and looks at the discus. She reaches her hand in and pets it, forcefully. She shoves her child’s hand in to pet it too. The audience is gasping and screaming, signaling the violence of the discus. The discus glows brightly and enlarges. The woman takes the discus out of the water and shakes it but does not get bitten.

Wednesday, 3.21.2018, Los Angeles, CA
I’m producing a drag show on a skyscraper. Simultaneously, I’m hosting a poetry reading with my MFA peers. The drag show is off and running but I’m struggling to get everything coordinated and ready for the reading. The two eventually merge together and I make do with what I have despite being beyond stressed that my work with the poetry will bomb. The two appear to work out despite people paying more attention to the drag which isn’t hard to do since one performer walks outside the builsing, performing from a twenty story ledge. I then need a vacation and go to this place called Pink House at Paramount Ranch which seems cool but I’m aupposed to be in Palm Springs. Moby owns the hotel which is wild because he’s in my MFA program. I’m stressed because Bobby wanted to go to Palm Speings and I bought three nights at Pink House for $59 each, which isn’t pink but dark and trendy. I wander the property and realize it’s just a series of event tents with “rooms” that are divided by curtains. Pink House is bad and now I’m really worried. I go to tell Bobby and get the news that Moby died. I’m very upset but no one else seems to know but me. I check the news and Instagram for confirmation and get nothing but do find that Moby’s Instagram features lots of photos he took of me. I’m flattered.

Saturday, 3.24.2018, Los Angeles, CA
I wrote about Peggy Gou, a rising house artist, very briefly on my website on the morning of 3.23. It was a throwaway something, a brief comment in a story I wasn’t in love with and didn’t share on social networks as a result. At night, I dreamt some of the artists in the post emailed me about what I wrote. Peggy was not happy. Her email was bitter, angry. She asked why I would write that and that I should take it down. I wrote back that it was a misunderstanding. She wrote back that she would get more people involved if I didn’t remove the story. I did not remove the story. I woke up.

Thursday, 3.29.2018, Los Angeles, CA
I am on an island. Not a tropical island but a sort of city on an island, like something off of New Jersey or New York City. My family is with me and we’re all trying to depart, to catch a plane or boat to leave. I book us a ticket out and we have dinner at a place nearby, enjoying our time while we can. I eventually wander off to see a friend’s mother, Susan Chill, who is South African and nice but rich and very intimidating. She has a giant house and seems to control the island. We make plans to leave and are en route back. Someone forgot something so I go back, to Susan, visiting her house. She welcomes me back but knows i jsut left. I grab what we forgot from the upstairs of her house. I go to leave, sneaking out as instructred, via a ladder that is at least four stories tall. It is very steep and I am very stressed out. Dottie, my dog, is with me. We try to walk down it like stairs since it is both at an angle and perpendicular to the ground, a bit like Martin Puryear’s Ladder For Booker T. Washington. She goes down the ladder with ease. I am very worreid she is going to fall and die but she does not. I am very worried that I will fall and die but I do not. My phone falls out, about two or three stories up, and I am so worried it is broken. I make it to the ground and grab my phone. The screen is only partially shattered and entirely functional. I run to re-join my family. Then realize we’re already where we need to be: back on the island. We make new plans to leave, via ferry. We’re preparing to leave but forget, again, to get something from Susan. I go to get what we forgot from her at a ferry station or union station. I run with Dottie and arrive and realize I am naked. Susan doesn’t seem to care but it is known that I am without clothing. I need to go to the bathroom and try to find a place to go. After a few non-locking or unprivate spaces, I find a bathroom but no longer need to go. I leave the bathroom and it looks like the interior of Hearst Castle.

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