joeseph

1. my horse
2. the life of the mind

The first dream was so awesome that I made a huge point of recalling it. Woke up at 6am after it ended, and my intention to recall it was so strong that it might have actually hindered other dreams from materializing.

I was getting on a bart train. Throughout this dream there were lots of themes of fucking around, playing with people a little bit more in order to experiment with other modes of existence. I was wearing a bright purple trenchcoat. I got on the train and sat next to an old woman, who would become my good friend. Keeping with the vow of silence, I decided to show her a text message with my thoughts on it. (I actually sent it to my boss on accident, but it was OK.) Immediately after getting on the train, I realize that I have left my backpack with my slackline in it behind, and it's too late. I meet up with my dad at one of the stations. I ask him to call the Bart line to see if anyone has turned it in---no luck. The bart line goes in a straight line heading down and diagonally to the right, and eventually it loops back around. I'm not sure how this works out physically (I'm not actually concerned), but it does mean that I'm going to get back to the first bart station and get a chance to get my bag back. I suppose it's like the train station in The Matrix; one end meets up with the other, and you come out the other side.

I get back to the first bart station where I departed from, and me and my possee (the old woman, another girl who is way hotter, my dad) start looking around for it. Things are looking grim when I round a bend and...
MY HORSE!!!!! My horse has been tied up at the station, using my webbing and all the gear from my slackline. Poor baby! I'm so sorry I left you alone! My horse!!!!!! There is a massive flash of recognition. It is a tall horse, almost like a hybrid between a giraffe and a horse. I am overcome with emotions; I start to cry I love this thing so much. I untie it and nuzzle up to its head. What a sweetheart. Love and compassion. I even go and tell everybody back at my grandpa's (now sold) house.

Other dream: People were up and about, making breakfast (IRL). I have a false awakening of sorts; I get up and it's still dark, and nobody is even awake yet. Well shit, what's the point of getting up early? I cruise around the house in roller skates (the ones which fold up into the bottom of your shoes, the Skechers ones). Back to sleep. I am a paralyzed black boy in a bed, dreaming. There's not much organization between these different states. It's almost like a 24 Grams, chopped-up cinematic style, and I haven't enough background to piece it all together. I'm walking around Moorpark (the expanded, dream-state version), it's still before dawn. We have plans to meet at Mike Font's house to go swimming. I'm holding onto my phone, and it's buoyant. I hop a fence, floating/bouncing up the side of the hill. There's the pool. This is a setting that I recognize. I float and bounce away, and try for some flying. My reasoning: this phone is buoyant, it is bouncing. Therefore, it must have a bigger force going UP than my weight going DOWN. I can take advantage of this force! I close my eyes and try to actualize it, and I end up floating up a ways, but no real flight.

Eyes closed. This leads to a re-awakening. After opening my eyes briefly and staring at the ceiling of my room, I go back to the dream. I'm the paralyzed black boy again. There's another black man (an uncle?) who wants to take advantage of me and sodomize me. I'm viewing it from third-person, though. At this point this is more narrativized than my attempts at floating, less "me." I am going to die soon. He tries, but is overcome by guilt. Shrug.

I come to a sad realization, as I wake up. There's so much I don't care about. This breakfast that is going to be a lot of effort, but is so unhealthy and so bad. It's all about appearances. It's about wanting to appear like you're doing someone else for something, but really putting minimal effort into it. This is life on the surface level; these people don't dream, not like I do. I live the life of the imagination. The life of the mind.