joeseph

first dream:

forgot it right now, hopefully it will come back to me

second: really sexual dream. austin's girlfriend is in his bed with some old mexican dude. i am half asleep and half awake. they check on me--"hey joe, hey joe!" but i'm unconscious or making a good performance that i am. i hear them having sex in the dark; there is some hubbub about a condom and whether or not the older dude will even finish. he's a gangster kind of guy, so he's got his ego. it turns out that he can't, so he leaves in a hurry. austin comes back in. "what a joke," and they finish up. i consider asking if they would be down for a threesome. maybe that would be the best way to go after all.

third dream: i am reading, reading, reading, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I'm about halfway through, always about halfway through. The book is worn and bound into sections with different colored scraps of paper. There's a blue section, a yellow section, a red one, and they get smaller and smaller towards the end of the book. The pages are in roman numerals, and they count towards the highest number in the middle, and go back towards zero in the last half, so the pagination is symmetrical. I'm reading, reading, reading in order to write an essay. The book is the main focus. I might have been at a school before, but now we're in the car. Mrs. Fulgham, my english teacher from high school, is driving; we're on a field trip. She drives and drives in a motherly fashion; we're in a big SUV or something with a lot of students inside. The outside world whirs by peacefully, silently. I figure she is doing this to help us concentrate, and it's working. After a while we get to where we need to be, and she drops us off. Parents are called to come and pick up their kids. But mine are gone. I have left my backpack in camarillo (even though geographically it would be towards the back of Thousand Oaks), so I need to be driven back there or picked up there. Everything is amber and green as the sun sets, but the cars whiz on by on the busy roads. I stop and talk with a few parents and older figures that I know as they pick people up, but I can't get a ride back. I start walking, up on a trail, talking to my mom. She seems drunk. "If you can't come get me, it's fine. I'll just walk to Camarillo." I say this BEGRUDGINGLY. This is the alternative I've been given since nobody is there for me. I hang up.

There are a few other people walking, and I follow them. I think Cassidy from work leads the way on this trail, which weaves down through orchards and nurseries, and goes between and under picket fences in the hills. It's magical in a watership down kind of way; I feel like a little kid running around and exploring. There is danger here, but just the PERFECT amount to make it adventurous. I'm not scared at all. One particularly vivid image is me staring out over one fence, a fork in a the road. On the other side is Simi Valley (again, figuratively but not geographically)--I see the ocean and the greenery of the hill. It looks so peaceful, but to get over the fence I have to make maybe a 12 foot drop into the bushes. The ground is much lower on that side. I think to myself: "This is a leap of faith." !!!

I make my way down and end up going through that path anyways, just in passing. And I keep on, weaving and ducking in between the hills and following these hidden paths through the bushes and trees.

Nothing brought up the first dream. Oh well. I'll save this and come back and edit it if I remember today (I suspect that I will).