They'd been coming ( Read more... )

I dream that there has been some sort of significant disaster. In the dream itself, we all know, but the exact cause and source is hidden to me as a dreamer; there is simply too much for my dream self to deal with that it never comes up ( Read more... )

I dream that my parents finally come down to see my show, but when we get to the location, we find that they've arrived on a day when the gallery is closed. I offer to let them see the outside portion of the show, but a mall has been built around the entrance, and we must peer through the drop-down gates to try and see inside ( Read more... )

Occasionally, I dream of food ( Read more... )

I dream I am at my parent's house on the hill, getting ready for a job interview. My mother is in her bedroom, getting dressed up; she is driving me to the interview and so she wants to look nice. I stop and walk into the living room. The whole house is incredibly light in so many senses of the words: the sunlight streams in, turning the eyes to a ( Read more... )

I dream that I am on a trip with Doctors Without Borders. I am a surgeon; the bus we ride is in a terrible wreck. I have been talking with another doctor beforehand, and I remember the glass cutting through our conversation like new years confetti, our mouths open as if counting down. The ball drops, the bus flips.

I dream in vivid, unapologetic Eggleston color ( Read more... )

I dream about a meadow/grasslands, with trees at the far border, thick and dense like a fence ( Read more... )

What is it about the genre of "collapse-porn" and Post-Apocalyptica that really draws us as a society ( Read more... )

I've decided to become a little more of a picky eater this year. Oh, don't get me wrong: I'll still devour the newest Stephen King novels right off the shelf, stay up late all night eating the entire bag until I have that strange form of horror hangover. And my literary meals still largely consist of fiction in all forms: meaty, stringy, lean, fat ( Read more... )