Ashram Dream

I dreamed that I lived in, or was temporarily staying at, a house that apparently was turning into an ashram.

The dream didn’t start out as especially pleasant. I think there may have been relatives there, and it strangely was supposed to be Kansas. I ended up staying in a part of this big house that was separate from all relatives (thank goddess!) and in the back of the house and down a flight of blue-painted wooden stairs, so I think I was sleeping and staying mainly in the basement.

The stairs led up directly to a large kitchen. Eventually, a young man was in the kitchen preparing food. I had leftovers that someone left me from a fast food joint, and I came up to use the microwave and told the young guy that I only eat stuff like this in Kansas (in the Midwest might have been a more accurate statement).

Meanwhile, downstairs, some people were setting up a meditation room. I went back down after putting the food in the microwave, and some people were coming down the stairs to the meditation room.

As I went back up the stairs, a lot of people were coming down the staircase (which had a landing). I had previously noticed that the stairs were littered, particularly with a piece of patterned green fabric and a couple other, smaller things, perhaps newspaper scraps. This, with a crowd on the stairs, made things difficult. I was getting a little anxious as I slowly made it up the stairs, with many people behind me and more people coming down. I got to thinking I should hurry up and eat and finish so I can participate in this group meditation (though realistically, I should have decided to hold off eating). I thought it would be a pity if I didn’t participate, never mind that I had no idea this was going to happen.

As I was up on the second half of the stairs, I heard chanting. It got louder: the sound of many people singing a Hindu chant. I was nearly at the top of the stairs, when people who were old friends ran into each other and kicked up a happy conversation. The chanting continued to the end of the dream.

(Awake, I don’t find it hard to interpret this dream. Kansas was where I took up meditation in reaction to the extremely hostile, toxic, and creepy environment and in reaction to toxic relatives. I recently finally resumed editing a novel inspired by my experience in Kansas. The start of the dream was Kansas and toxic relatives…and the end was related to meditation and spirituality.)

The Menacing Staircase

I dreamed that I was in a city and had been meeting up with a realtor, I think–and he was charming and attractive. But some people I knew–maybe they were helping me house hunt–didn’t like him, as they showed while we were all just outside his glass-doored office, and he was inside with another customer. But I seemed detached from their group, about three people, as though I were invisible. They knew it would be at least fifteen minutes before we met up again, so I decided to take a quick shower. I went to the Art Deco hostel where I was staying.

In the enormous lobby, I passed a tall and skinny Middle Eastern young man, in his late teens or early twenties; he resembled Ms. Marvel’s brother. He was pausing in a doorway and overhearing his father yelling at someone.

I seemed to switch to his perspective. His father was yelling, “You have to be so devoted that you read the Quran while you are walking.” Something like that.

I had either his perspective or mine, when I kept walking and overheard what sounded like a dulcimer. It was wonderful music, and I looked around and saw a young guy in a corner, playing…playing…what at first I thought was a dulcimer, but it looked a lot like a silver radio, perhaps from the 1970s.

I returned to the young Middle Eastern guy’s perspective. He was holding a Quran open in front of him while walking, and he got to a delicate staircase that wasn’t along a wall but out in the middle of the room. It was like filigree and didn’t have a normal banister. As he was going up these stairs, it felt precarious, almost as though the stairs were swaying. As he got higher, about halfway up and at a landing or curve, he was resorting to putting the book down a few steps ahead of him and using both hands to grasp at the sides–well, there was a sort of banister or handrail on each side. It was quite frightening, and there seemed a likely chance that he would fall.

Family Nightmare

I had a nightmare in which I was watching a film based on one of the Worst Frenemy in the Galaxy’s favorite novels.

The nightmare was about a family in which at least one of the kids was an adopted teenager. The type of film looked like something used in the 1960s, and it all took place at the family’s house. At first it was pretty mundane, but it turned dark quickly. Two adults, I think the mother and the eldest son, were conversing in what I think was the dining room (a large, simply-furnished and minimalist room with a long, natural wood table and benches in the center). Off to the right was a wide and short set of a few steps leading down into this room from another room.

Curled up on those steps was a teen girl. The mother and son eventually noticed, and one of them coldly asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

Next thing: the girl’s clearly dead…and her severed head is lying a few feet ahead of her body.

Next, we see another teen girl who is a member of the family, and she has longish blond hair and a somewhat round face…on which she has removed some layers of skin. She’s sobbing, and she’s sitting on the same kind of steps (as though the body vanished) and before her is a large paper plate full of a white powder, which I immediately knew to be poison. She’s eating it. She puts the plate down, and a fluffy orange cat and perhaps also a toddler comes along and licks the plate and drops dead.

Amid all this, I was a horrified viewer and find myself wishing I never saw this and thinking, Trust that frenemy to be into something so sick and insane. I may have made a mental note to avoid anything she was into. I certainly would have in this reality!

 

I dreamed that I had a new house and it was all my own. I didn’t paint any of the rooms but kept the colors someone else had painted it, and it was odd. I had nice hardwood floors, but at least one room had graffiti walls, and a living room had greyish-yellow walls. There were no curtains. I’d been sitting in a room I thought of as the back living room.

I had an urge to do some redecorating, because I noticed that one room had an awful lot of empty space. I looked around and tried to figure out what were the color schemes of certain rooms. I had several old couches that had been at my parents’ house and that were somewhat worn out. One was a green loveseat in the back living room, which was part kitchenette or kitchen nook… but in which I had the loveseat and a yellow armchair where most people would have put a dining table and chairs. The green loveseat didn’t have a wall behind it; instead, it faced an open space that led to a hallway that stretched the length of the condo. It faced a huge window with a Venetian blind. To the right of the couch was the armchair. To the right, the fridge was in the far-left corner, and I’m not sure there were any other kitchen facilities. In the front corner of this room was an odd space, where the white ceiling was low, sort of forming a box, and a blue taupe was forming a curtain and hanging from the ceiling.

Down the hallway, I passed a section of wall with at least one door (perhaps a bedroom on the other side) and came to what I thought of as the front living room. It was the greyish-yellow room, with more old couches. One was yellow, and the other was predominantly turquoise in a pattern. I had been feeling so proud of my new place, but now I was thinking it kind of weird and in need of redecorating, but I wasn’t sure how.

At some point in the dream, I recalled that my new place included an apartment I could rent out, and I got to thinking that what I thought of as the back living room could become a second apartment with a few changes. As I was thinking about this, I noticed from that room the far wall (to the right, opposite direction from the front living room), and this wall was white and had a big metal double door with a black curtain partially covering it, and one of the 2 doors was open, to my dismay.

The new place was on a college campus, and anyone could just walk into my new condo. I needed to go use the bathroom and paused a moment to decide whether I wanted to get that door closed first, but I noticed a college boy standing with his back to that door, and I didn’t want anyone to notice that it led to my place, didn’t want to attract attention, so I decided to leave it open until I got back from the restroom. Meanwhile, I realized that a big screen tv was turned on to a kind of loud anime show; this was to the left of the open door. I felt embarrassed, because anyone in the hallway must hear it.

Outside the condo, I was in the hallway of the same building, which except for my condo was a university. It resembled a hallway in the high school from hell. Students were coming and going, and I felt ashamed of being an ugly and fat middle-aged woman amid all these skinny young people.

I headed to a vending machine, but as though my legs fell asleep, I stopped being able to walk and was crawling along on the floor and feeling terribly embarrassed. Lots of students were around. One young man asked me if I needed help, but I couldn’t talk and knew that if I could just get to that big freezer along the wall in the same alcove as the vending machine, I’d grasp onto it and pull myself up. I was terribly embarrassed and afraid that people would ridicule me and laugh at me. Meanwhile, the same problem happened to a young male student, and he was crawling along straight toward the freezer and kind of getting in my way. But he crawled quickly, so his legs were soon in front of me–his jeans were sliding down and I could see the top of his underwear and his butt crack–and his sneaker-clad feet were in front of me, as I dragged myself in the direction of the vending machine, and he dragged himself in the direction of the freezer.

Virginia’s Latest Gift

I was dreaming that my mother was still alive, and we had this basement workshop where we seemed to have a clothing-making business. My mother showed me a knit shirt that was russet and featured a photo-like picture in the center front, an antique photo of a Native American old woman. She said it appeared because I had the internet open to that page.

She chastised me for being into prints or patterns, and s he said we weren’t going to use those anymore. To demonstrate, she showed me a couple of sweaters…one of which was brown and white, in a pattern reminiscent of a trellis. I told her that’s a pattern, and she didn’t comment.

I woke to a cat meowing, and when I stepped into the hallway, I saw what appeared to be two dead rats. I got a couple of used cuppa soup cups to scoop them and take them outside…and noticed one of them moving as little. As I was scooping the first one, it really came to life…and although it was about the size of a small full-grown mouse, it seemed like a baby.

Neither was bleeding, that I could see, and they both turned out to be alive. I suspect that they’re baby rats or some other rodent. It fully sank it after I took them to the edge of the front yard. I hope they’ll be okay. I hope they’re not newborn possums. No, probably baby rats.

Gabriel was the only one who seemed particularly interested in them, which has a disturbing connotation, since he doesn’t normally bother rodents. It seemed more like something Vita or Virginia would do, though so far they’ve only brought me two mice, and they were both dead. Coming to think of it, they were about twice as big as these two, so maybe they’re large mice…or little rats. I think they weren’t moving much because they were in shock.

Slightly later

It’s Virginia. She just brought another one! Or she found where I put them. She seems to be gumming them.

Latest update: Virginia brought four baby rats total, all of which I took and put in bushes in a far corner of my front yard. Perhaps if I had been wide awake, I might have searched the back yard for a nest, or for rat parents.

Unsettling Dreams

I dreamed that I was at a tiny old-fashioned train station. I may have gotten off one train, but what I remember is rushing dangerously close to the tracks as a train passed me, and I got to an archway in the center of the tiny building, where lots of people were…getting onto a train. I didn’t make it to the train, but I’m not sure I wished to ride that particular train.

I was the only customer remaining and walked away from that archway in order to wait at a location I saw earlier. As I headed back there, I again walked very close to the tracks, and a loud metal locomotive came close to hitting me. I felt nervous about that both times.

I circled around and spotted a whole bunch of people scrubbing brown wooden floor–this was still outdoors–in the vicinity of where I wished to sit down and wait. I didn’t wish to disturb them, and I thought I could tiptoe through without stepping in the wrong place and without disturbing them. They wore I think 19th century servants clothes and were chatting among themselves.

I was about to take a step…but then the closest cleaner dumped some water right where I was going to step. She scrubbed vigorously right there. I looked around for another dry spot, and the same thing happened. Finally, I ended up stepping onto a wet spot, and it was burning hot. I made several steps, all burning hot, and I may have been barefoot. One of the cleaners may have belatedly warned me, but after a few steps I figured I may as well get to the bench and get my feet up off the ground.

 

I had several other dreams, not as interesting as that first one or the final one, and I think I woke after every dream.

My last of many vivid dreams took place in a strip mall where there were a lot of pedestrians. It was nighttime, and I think I had the perspective of a teen girl (I was a completely different person than in this reality), and I was with my mother (a slender blond woman who appeared to be in her thirties) and sister, who was also blond and about eight years old…though sometimes I think she was more like 12.

We saw a man in probably his thirties who was skinny and blond and had high cheekbones and wore jeans, t-shirt, denim jacket, and a black baseball cap. He killed someone right before our eyes, in front of a shop. The way he killed I think more than one person was supernatural–he held up his hands, and I think rays of light came out of his hands and hit his victims.

We were panicky and wanted to distance ourselves from him but without attracting his attention. So we sneaked away, but he noticed us and chased after us in and around some shops.

We reached the glass front doors of Walgreens and were about to dash in, when a couple of staff members met us at the door and wouldn’t let us in and said they were closing. I was terrified, anxious, and probably glanced in the general direction of where I thought the murderer was. Walgreens was the far left one. Of the strip mall, so I was looking toward the right. I thought I saw him in front of a shop and surrounded by other pedestrians. Lots of pedestrians were around and didn’t seem to have any idea what was going on, especially cheerful groups of teenagers.

My mother begged and pleaded to get inside and may have said she just needed cough medicine. One of the cheerful teens said she should write a letter to Walgreens demanding free cough medicine.

I don’t know if we got away. I woke up.

Beware of Social Media

I need to take a break from Instagram, probably for about a week. It used to be about cat photos. But now I’m “following” (such a stalker-like word) so many feminist accounts, that it’s about arrogant and willfully ignorant trolls commenting that there is no wage gap, that there are only two genders, and that Muslims are a bunch of terrorists. No, no matter how smugly you pontificate, your delusions and lies aren’t going to come true.

The part about Muslims is especially baffling since the fiasco of an election. Um, the majority of terrorists in the United States are white supremacists who were born in this country. Dump has emboldened them: they’re out of the woodwork and terrorizing this country, even invading elementary schools and killing children of color. Every time the topic of white supremacists comes up, I imagine a force field around my property. I’m only twenty-five percent Ashkenazi (European Jew), and I don’t seriously think many of these bigots would take one look at me and instantly know I’m Jewish—after all, different ethnicities have dark brown hair and dark brown eyes—but it’s terrifying, not only for my family and me but for the whole country. That is not what the country formerly known as the United States should be like. Of course, I realize: it’s Dumplandia now.

Lately I’ve been keeping up on daily news, largely thanks to notifications from The Guardian’s app. And I’ve been reading political/sociological/activist nonfiction, such as this book next to me, Wolf Whistle Politics, edited by Diane Wachtel. It will be good for me to take a little break, for a few days, from bombardments of Dumplandia and read Buddhist books, instead.

Because One Letter isn’t Enough

 

I also wrote the following to my senators and representative:

White supremacists have been emboldened since the fiasco of an election. They vandalize Jewish cemeteries, leave nooses in Jewish and African American places of culture, invade schools, run over children, and spread hate.

And don’t excuse their behavior because you think they’re mentally ill; this is deliberate and organized hate crime.

Even if they had mental health problems, there’s no excuse for abuse and bigotry and violence. In the U. S., someone who’s psychotic goes on mass shootings. In India, someone who’s psychotic goes on a housecleaning binge. Dumplandia is a violent country. The murderous bigot at the Hollywood Transit Center is a white supremacist, regardless of mental health.

The government—local, state, federal—needs to take these terrorists seriously and lock them up. Please declare a state of emergency. Apathy is collusion.

White Supremacists

Here’s a letter I wrote to my senators and representative:

I’m sure you’re aware that Donald Dump has emboldened aggressive and dangerous bigots across the country. Here in the Pacific Northwest, they have been particularly toxic of late, and not just the one who harassed two teenagers and slit the throats of their defenders. In addition, the KKK has been targeting elementary schools in Oregon and Washington. They threaten schools—including in Portland—and post hateful fliers. They run down children of color with their trucks and killed a Native boy. Reportedly Kung Elementary had to cancel their end of year carnival because of threats.

These terrorists are a threat even to children. They must be stopped. Please declare a state of emergency.

Kind of Nightmares

I had a dream in which I was expecting a bunch of visitors–relatives, unfortunately.

Or I was a visitor and my brother was expecting them.

I lived in a building in which there was a large lobby or lounge room with couches forming a big circle, and my apartment door faced this room. I dozed off on a couch in front of my door, and when I woke, I noticed that a lot of other people lay on couches, and I recognized most of them as relatives. I was extremely ill at ease with them.

I got up and went into my apartment and surveyed the main room. It was beautiful and colorful. I had decorated it by buying old wooden furniture and painting it in bright colors. There was a wooden bench with arms that ended in fanciful curls, and I think I had painted it cranberry-red with pink accents. Something else was turquoise and blue. There was a rug that helped to give the room a vaguely Victorian look. The furniture and decor sort of circled the rug, for it was all around the edges of the room, probably against the walls, though the effect was an oval, and this was probably a rectangular room. The only practical things I remember were seats and maybe brightly painted furniture. It could have been taken for a shop display. Tall vases and statues and such. There was no tv or anything of that sort.

I was proud of how I decorated, but I didn’t think nasty relatives would be impressed, and I definitely didn’t have enough space for them all and dreaded associating with them. I knew my dad and brother would be there, and that was consolation.

Later in the dream, lots of relatives were in my brother’s studio apartment, which had very high ceilings. There was some bustling about and moving of furniture, to make room for so many people and for what I think was a party, perhaps a family reunion. I felt curious about the decor but socially awkward and lost; nobody acknowledged my existence.

To my astonishment, someone (perhaps me) opened a door and revealed a storage room at least as big as the main room and with an extremely tall ceiling. This was a very modern place, and the storage room might have been a closet at the Oregon Convention Center. There were many rows of stacked chairs and such, and a lot of open space with a dark blue industrial carpet. A couple of guys peered in the room with me and were impressed. With so many people there, I figured we might be hanging out in the storage room, even though it had no windows. It was spotless and sparsely furnished.

Here was another dream:

I dreamed that I went to this beautiful, old, big Crafstman house that was open to the public. I think part of it was a craft store or craft workshop, since many people (including me) were using it that way at one point. There were a lot of people in this big room with tables and cubbyholes. I was younger and I think an art student–it seems like the project I was working on was for a class. It involved creating a little 3D room and its contents out of mixed media. I had a craft book that had the original ide for it, which suggests it wasn’t for a class after all. I oddly cut an image out of that book before realizing that this messed up the instructions and the images in the book.

At some point in the dream, I returned through the same porch room with two female friends who were delighted like I was. One of them had shoulder-length, dark red hair. But after we climbed a short flight of stairs and entered that room, where I was again delighted to see the striped loveseat, I don’t recall interacting with them anymore.

I may have things a bit out of order; it seems like I may have had a partner on the craft project, so maybe they were involved in that, but it also seems like the partner was a gay guy who disappeared in the big workshop, so I ultimately was working on it by myself.

I also explored some of the rooms, beautifully and colorfully furnished with antiques. I think one of the rooms was a conservatory, since it had a lot of garden statuary. In that room or another, I was particularly struck by a charming little loveseat upholstered in red and orange striped fabric; I think this was in the first room I entered, an indoor back porch. The house was generally very Victorian-looking, and some moderns probably would have called it cluttered.

Toward the end of the dream, I met caretakers who said I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted, and they left. Once I was the only person in the house, I realized it was dark and few if any lights were on. I may have explored some more.

A door opened and closed by itself, and as I wandered from one room to another, I saw a ghostly hand, apparently of a lady in a gown from the 1870s, with ruffled lace above the hand. But I think I only saw the hand and the lace, despite what I just described.

I think a door creaked and slammed behind me, while I was in a small room with paraphernalia all over. All the stuff was antique but not especially decorative and not organized like the rest of the house. I was weaving through stuff–a rocking horse, a watering pot, etc., and bumping into things as I attempted to cross the room to leave through what I hoped was an exit door. What during the day had been a delightful house was now sinister, confusing, and haunted. I felt as though ghosts were watching and maybe following me, and they didn’t want me there.

 

Feline Dream

I dreamed that I lived in a small apartment with Cheetah (the elderly cat who died in 2015 at almost twenty years of age), another adult female cat, and a new kitten. Cheetah attacked the kitten or tried to, and I rescued the kitten. The apartment had a sliding glass door in back, and all the felines managed to slip out, and I went searching for them. Cheetah was angrily and slowly walking around. The kitten was clinging to the other cat and was the deep orange of a red guinea pig and may have turned into a guinea pig.

I was going to take a trip soon and decided to ask my mother to babysit the kitten so Cheetah wouldn’t be a threat. In the dream my mother lived nearby, I think in the same apartment building.

Great: both my dead cat and my dead mother in a dream.