Archive | June, 2017

White Supremacists

13 Jun

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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.

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Kind of Nightmares

10 Jun

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

8 Jun

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.

Office Dream

5 Jun

I dreamed I was in an office space with at least two people, and one of them was a nerdy beanpole of a guy with an archaic sort of computer or adding machine. It looked like it was from the first half of the 20th century, much like the adding machine Uncle Buddy had in the garage. He was using this gadget to solve our problem, to calculate whatever. At some point I wondered why he didn’t use something else, a laptop, but I didn’t comment. Later in the dream, it was after dark and he was in the front seat of a car and still clicking away at the machine. If this was the U.S., then he was in the driver’s seat. The vehicle was pulled over to the side of the road, and I think it was a long 1970s car.

I don’t even remember what mystery we were attempting to solve. However, we succeeded with help from the adding machine. Aside from what he did on the machine, I was the one who solved it, but he helped a great deal.

I woke to Virginia meowing for my attention, and after petting her I dozed back to sleep and dreamed that I was telling at least one young female about the dream, and she wanted to know if the nerd was cute. I couldn’t remember.

This led to possibly the same dream, in which I was back in that office space and we were attempting to solve another mystery, and this time I paid more attention to the nerd and thought he was cute (he looked like the accountant in Ugly Betty), and I think I had a crush on him by the end of the dream.

One of those Mother Dreams

4 Jun

I had a dream in which I lived in what looked like a large and spotless house with my mother. I woke from a nap and i didn’t know where she was; I didn’t think she was home. I went to the living room–a very large and modern living room I think with white carpet–seems to me like the room was white and black in its color scheme. I lounged on a couch and munched on Oreo cookies while watching a quirky show about two young women living with their mother. The decor tended to change slightly depending on what projects they were working on. For instance, their kitchen had strings of onions hanging from more and more things–such as draped over the fridge and hanging from each side of it.

Though I assumed my mother was out, she appeared walking down a hallway to the living room, and I think another woman, a friend of hers, appeared, too. My mother (who didn’t look anything like my real mother, more like one of the beautiful and glamorous Indian actresses in this show about the Buddha I’ve been obsessively watching). She didn’t say anything or smile; her facial expression seemed aloof, and I felt ashamed of being caught idle on the couch and munching on junk food while watching tv. (I suppose watching tv wouldn’t have looked so bad if it had been a documentary.) She wore something glamorous that included a leopard print, and she looked like she had just taken a shower.

It just occurred to me that the Oreo cookies matched the black and white color scheme of the living room.

Since my parents passed away–my dad in May 2014, my mother in March 2016–I continue to have dreams in which they are still alive. My sister said, with considerable relief, that she no longer dreams about our parents.

Today it sounded like aliens were trying to communicate through the toilet, before it sound was singing birds. Perhaps there’s a nest in the attic. (That actually wasn’t a dream.)