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2005-01-25 @ 12:55 a.m.
dreams only an angst camera can see


I had this crazy idea recently....well, actually tonight. If I were to ever get ahead financially (yeah, witty, that is crazy considering youíre only working .0006 hours a week and youíre on disability and you just had to spend over $200 repairing your car thus destroying what little nest egg you had saved for a trip you wanted to take to NYC for your birthday in February, but bygones), I would like to install an Angst-Cam in my bathroom mirror. My bathroom is where I do some of my best ďworkĒ. I do a lot of my James Spadering in there. I actually try to psyche myself out by saying, yes, Iím definitely going in there to take my shower, definitely, and than start to take my clothes off...to take the aforementioned shower and then suddenly Iíll whip towards the mirror and start talking to myself.

I donít exactly know why I do this except that Iím fairly compelling. Iíll just stand and go through everything that seems bizarre that week, including some things I really canít say here as well as some really strange dreams Iíve been having. I think they are either from stress or anger. After falling back to sleep Sunday morning I dreamed of ďAĒ. Even though Iíve known him for over 8 years now, Iíve only dreamed about him maybe 4 times and usually weíre arguing in my dreams. But this dream was different. One of us wasnít wearing pants. And there were some other strange elements in the dream which I wonít go into, Herr Freud, but it was a strange one, having to do with a suspension bridge.

Another recent dream had a tsunami wash over my house. The water never receded though and I was looking out my windows at fish swimming by. The same night I dreamt about being in a car with my father. Since my Dad died from Alzheimerís two years ago, every dream Iíve had of him since then has always had him in a vegetative state. Iíll meet up with him someplace and he wonít recognize me and then Iíll wake up feeling really sad.

Well, in this dream, for the first time in two years, there was a flicker of recognition. I was very excited and it was like, yay, he knew who I was! What a breakthrough! So we talked briefly and then he invited me to go out with him in his car. I didnít think anything of it, since he seemed ďall betterĒ.

So we got into his 1970 Mercedes and strangely enough, we pulled out of the parking lot from ďAĒs office. Isnít it funny how your dreams cross pollinate from each other? My Dad and ďAĒ? They did meet once though. My Dad came to an appointment with me in the 1990ís. He mainly talked about my mother. It was a good appointment. I was happy that ďAĒ got to meet my Dad. It was important to me.

So weíre tooling down E. Genny in my Dadís Mercedes and Iím chatting away until I suddenly realize that my Dad has a glazed look. And then realize heís not really driving the car, but rather, itís driving him, so I yell at him, trying to get his attention. Unfortunately heís in such a catatonic state that he doesnít respond. So I try to grab the wheel from the passenger side, but Iím still strapped in and oncoming traffic is veering out of the way, trying not to hit us head on.

I mean, how much more obvious can a dream interpretation be? The Out of Control Car means: Your life is out of control. The Seat Belts preventing me from grabbing the wheel means: You are strapped in by something (Married Guy, obsessiveness, the inability to let things go and take chances) which is preventing you from regaining control of your life. Not sure what my Catatonic Dad means, other than parents arenít going to help, so get over it?

Iíve actually had this Out of Control Car dream 4 times in the last six months. Two times the person driving the car became incapacitated and I tried to grab the wheel to avoid oncoming traffic. Two times I was driving and suddenly became blind or nearly blind and tried to drive by instinct. And two of the cars originated from ďAĒs parking lot. Is that not weird?

I guess that tells you something, huh? Like donít drive under the influence of ďAĒ.

I did have one other dream, which was probably the weirdest, freakiest ass dream Iíve ever had, and there are no interpretations for that one whatsoever.

I was in the bathroom of one of my old apartments in California. I was in a nightgown. I was sitting on the toilet. And there was a mirror on the back of the bathroom door. And I was looking at myself in the mirror (what else is new, witty?). And then suddenly I felt myself starting to levitate, and I was like, what the hell? And I could feel myself rising up and then I looked in the mirror to see if I was just imagining this or whether it was really happening, and sure enough, I was still in a sitting position, but I was up near the ceiling floating around. I wasnít particularly scared. It was sort of like being in a NASA zero gravity chamber. And I kept gently bumping against the ceiling. I could see it happening in the mirror and I thought, how amusing.

Iím flying!

And then in the tub behind me, I suddenly saw a quick flash. It reminded me of something you might see when a slide projector is clicking between slides. But in that momentary flash I saw a young blonde haired boy. He slid across the tiled wall and disappeared into the wall so quickly I barely had time to acknowledge it. And then I could hear the voices of children laughing and playing. The sound echoed off the walls of the bathroom. I, of course, was still hanging out, up near the ceiling. I didnít know whether to look towards the tub or at the mirror, because a second later, I saw the blonde kid flash by again, but this time he was followed by a second child. As they ran, it looked like home movies being projected against the bathroom wall. And then there was more laughter. They were playing hide and seek obviously...except that they had the ability to run through walls...and under floating women in bathrooms. Were they ghosts? They had to be if they were running through walls, right? And why was I levitating? I donít usually levitate when Iím in the bathroom. Was I ghost too?

I was remarkably calm for all the unusual things that were going on, until I heard the bathroom door handle rattle and this deep, raspy, demon-like voice, just outside the door, growl, ďMotherís......RosesĒ.
Motherís Roses?

And then the kids stopped running through. And the laughter ended. And the dream ended rather abruptly.

Not really sure what it all meant. I did get raped in a bathroom as a kid. Iím sure that has something to do with it. Thatís probably why I use the bathroom mirror as my confessional. And why I cry in the shower a lot. I think all of my emotions are tied to the bathroom. It was rather ironic when I got locked in Married Guyís bathroom last year. Of all places to be trapped. A bathroom. Good going, witty. I never liked his bathroom because it didnít have a lock on the door. Well, it had a lock but it didnít work. Only if you forced it. And when you forced it, like I did, you got locked in the bathroom. Talk about karmic payback.

And the reason I was floating above it all in the dream? Maybe I was trying to see who did it. The rape I mean. I have a pretty good idea, but Iím not positive. It was dark. I was small. I hid under the sink until the guy left. I still let people take advantage of me. I think everything is about sex. I feel responsible for everyoneís actions. The kids running behind me and their welfare (could they be representing me, even though Iím a girl?) Myself, for floating near the ceiling and acting too nonchalant about it. Maybe that really my mother, who still wonít acknowledge that anything happened to me, and makes me feel like nothing did.

Having people believe me is so important and so impossible to achieve. I donít even know if ďAĒ believes things that I tell him or have told him about Zenshrink or Married Guy or the Nannyguy, because everything that comes tumbling out of manic girl somehow manages to reconfigure itself into delusional tales spun on gossamer wings. If he would just once acknowledge things, I would feel about 3000% better and empowered and not feel like some kind of delusional freak who keeps getting taken advantage by men who see me as an easy mark. The ethereal hippy chick. Sheís pale. Sheís somewhat pretty. She looks like she might like to do things....you know...special things that no one else would do. Why? Because she has those bedroom eyes, ya see. I was actually told that by my drunk aunt at age 10. That I had ďbedroom eyesĒ. A fucking 10 year old.

But as far as trying to figure out what ďMotherís RosesĒ means, who knows. Iím at a loss for that one. Especially in the voice it was spoken in. It sounded like Regan in ďThe Exorcist.Ē just moments before she spewed pea soup.

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