Archive for June 7th, 2007

‘…we’re all heading for the same sweet darkness…’

Thursday, June 7th, 2007 at about 3:30 pm

I’ve been having strange, strange dreams. That one where I was being chased by zombies and ran into Ryan North, another the next week where I found out I was adopted and met my biological parents. It was really trippy, and long — my birth parents were crazy (mother a detached doctor, father an ineffectual layabout), and lived on a road that was on a hill and in the woods. There was a part of the dream where I was trying to stop cars parked on the side of the road from rolling away by jumping into them as they began to move and pulling the parking break. At the bottom of the hill there was a strange house owned by a guy who had a lot of dogs, who were always barking but I never actually saw. I started getting surface piercings in my hand, somehow I was getting diamonds like embedded in the back of it. There was a problem with the holes always being the wrong size, though, so I couldn’t get the pattern I wanted. It was like they could only be set where there were freckles. Overall, really, really strange, but for some reason I remember it pretty vividly.

Last night I had a dream where I was trying to have a party, but I’m pretty sure we were on a room on a big space ship. Some random people from Adelfa may have been there. There have been other dreams, too, that I’ve remembered recently, but none come to mind at the moment. I don’t usually remember this much about them.

background noise: “makers” rocky votolato

As a postscript, a poem:

making love

everything is dust,
dust-covered and dust-colored:

the inside of your irises,
the ramshackle ruin of a long-empty barn
we explore in high summer
in an empty field next to a copse of trees;
the deer skull we find there.

dust to dust:
what of this ignorance?
the materials of birth and simplicity of death,
with no regard for the complexity of construction
that lies between

everything is dust.
everything is the color of dust:

the smeared sky, a raincloud
a teardrop.
the cement floor of the barn
where we take cover,
the dirtied tips of my fingers,
my humid blood.

one choking cough
and the sky breaks,
loosing the rain,
washing the world clean.

Posted in General
by j. android