Dreams/pidgeons
Had a dream I became famous for writing, but I had no idea why. Me and Patrick were on a stage, staring at a mass of teenage girls. We laid on the floor with blankets and ignored the frantic crowds. Eventually a girl came up and gave us microphones and told me to kick off the proceedings. I stood silently until I woke up.
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Slept again and dreamt of surreal metropolis of brown metal and hydroponic gardens. Narration by Vonnegutian voice decries wild, unmitigated development and reveals catacombs filled with poor residing in the great rusty monoliths.
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Dreamt more of snowball fight in abandoned complex of concrete buildings. They appeared to be bombed out. Later got drunk and drove on country road nearby, careened into a gulch. After in car with Manuel, driving along freeway. There were large concrete blocks scooting along in front, keeping us at a designated speed. They were topped with plastic blond figures with faces like kewpie dolls. Manny managed to drive in such a way that allowed us to hump over the blocks and continue with greater speed, but we came upon another line of blocks that we almost smashed into. He drove over this one also, but almost lost control in the process.
I am in a park. Some persons served us pancakes and eggs. Pigeons are fighting over the crumbs that the homeless drop. One pushy on kept flinging a piece into the air and finding it only to repeat the process. Two others waiting in the wings, but he would bully them away if they intruded on his treat. Soon enough more pigeons noticed and began eating his pancake when he was trying to fend others off. The invaders carried the piece away and all he could do was watch. Eventually they threw the tidbit (it was mostly eaten at this point) up to a brick outcropping a few inches above their heads. Nobody could find it, and it is still sitting undisturbed.
An old man came near and kneeled to look under my bench for trash (he was a staff member). He said to a homeless man nearby, "You should get on your knees sometime. It's a good place to be, ha ha." Indeed.
The old man was cooking pancakes earlier. He burned almost every one.
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Slept again and dreamt of surreal metropolis of brown metal and hydroponic gardens. Narration by Vonnegutian voice decries wild, unmitigated development and reveals catacombs filled with poor residing in the great rusty monoliths.
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Dreamt more of snowball fight in abandoned complex of concrete buildings. They appeared to be bombed out. Later got drunk and drove on country road nearby, careened into a gulch. After in car with Manuel, driving along freeway. There were large concrete blocks scooting along in front, keeping us at a designated speed. They were topped with plastic blond figures with faces like kewpie dolls. Manny managed to drive in such a way that allowed us to hump over the blocks and continue with greater speed, but we came upon another line of blocks that we almost smashed into. He drove over this one also, but almost lost control in the process.
I am in a park. Some persons served us pancakes and eggs. Pigeons are fighting over the crumbs that the homeless drop. One pushy on kept flinging a piece into the air and finding it only to repeat the process. Two others waiting in the wings, but he would bully them away if they intruded on his treat. Soon enough more pigeons noticed and began eating his pancake when he was trying to fend others off. The invaders carried the piece away and all he could do was watch. Eventually they threw the tidbit (it was mostly eaten at this point) up to a brick outcropping a few inches above their heads. Nobody could find it, and it is still sitting undisturbed.
An old man came near and kneeled to look under my bench for trash (he was a staff member). He said to a homeless man nearby, "You should get on your knees sometime. It's a good place to be, ha ha." Indeed.
The old man was cooking pancakes earlier. He burned almost every one.