I just dreamt that I was at a convention with my boyfriend for ‘The Understanding of Space technology’, and there were all these kids running about, climbing into these big mechanical fighters, and shooting imaginary lasers across the convention space with weapons built like jigsaw puzzles. The attraction of the exhibit was that it had been built over a fissure in the surface of the earth, and hundreds of feet below where the walls glowed red, they held educational talks about the power of the earth’s core.
Boyfriend insisted on visiting this lecture, and while we’re down there taking our seats, I start to get uncomfortably warm. Not on the outside, on the inside, like I’d just eaten fire. Boyfriend’s tending to a kid on his other side, and without looking at me he says, ‘Ya’alright love, you want me to get you some water?’, but when he turns to me, I’m literally suffocating from the heat no one else seems to feel. He picks me up bridal style to try get me back to the surface and then suddenly it’s like I’m looking down on everything, and I see my own eyes catch fire and my jaw go slack, and there’s lava just spilling down my chin. But as he carries me past the crowd, they all scream and burst into flames, and I actually put my hands over my ears, squeeze my eyes shut and say ‘This isn’t actually happening’ but I can’t hear myself over the sound of millions of people screaming.
This gang of secondary school lads tried to pick me up in the zoo earlier. I’m standing there, drawing my wolves, and they swagger over, all greasy, mouthy, inner-city-accent, five of them. “Giz yer number there, wouldje? You’re fuckin’ bangin’”.
And because I’m socially retarded and completely incapable of being a smart mouth when it’s essential, I refused to make eye contact, just standing there, drawing the same line over and over until it wore a hole in the page. And now I’m lying in bed realizing I should have been all, “And what do you think you’re going to do with that? Dial it into your Fisher Price phone and pretend someone likes you enough to pick up on the other end?” I would have made the whipping noise too. Naturally. God, I suck at insulting people who need a good insulting.
I was standing at the bus stop today with my sketchpad in my hand and this old man working the film noir detective ensemble sidles up to me and says, ‘An artist are you? I’m an artist myself.’ Just as his bus pulls up he says, ‘Listen artist’, and starts writing imaginary numbers on my sketchpad, ‘Draw a face using only the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4,’ and off he went with a wink. I’ve been sitting here stumped, So if anyone has any fresh perspective to offer, it’d be welcome.
Everyone else has dreams about losing their teeth, or running from someone. I just had another dream about a schizophrenic serial killer. Some young skinny lad in a leather jacket, an absolute pushover. But his other personality was a fiery force of a woman who killed people just to screw with him and leave him to deal with the consequences. She liked to take him over while he slept and rearrange all his furniture to make him paranoid. She just graduated to killing his family members over time.
I think it’s more so the energy drink than the jager itself. My heart’s going 90, and everything louder than a whisper is scaring the hell out of me. haha