Dreamt of sitting in the branches of a tree perched on the edge of a bluff high over the ocean. The leaves had fallen but the branches were dense enough to block the sun. One spot in particular seemed exceptionally dense and figured a large bird must’ve made a nest there. I stretched out my arms into feathered wings and stepped into the air, oaring slowly with my fingertips to push myself up and forward.
Dreamt of crawling into my bed in in the Nara Hotel in Nara, Japan. I was deeply upset and anxious and wanted to hide. I curled into a tight little ball with my forehead against the wall and started to cry. After a moment, the feelings became overwhelming and I began beating my head against the wall.
I woke up crying.
Dreamt of deciding to renovate an old, abandoned warehouse on South Broadway across from Soldiers’ Field Park. I started by installing vertical, orange scaffolding poles from floor to ceiling. I then installed heavy, plywood plates spaced at 8′ intervals above one another, creating a dozen floors. I secured each plate with special, ceramic-coated bolts. I spent some time arranging and rearranging the platforms, leaving the grid open against the interior side walls and making sure that I had spaces for staircases, which I pre-assembled from wood to fit the 8′ by 8′ by 8′ grid. Finally, I outfitted the top floor with bookcases, shelves, a desk and some chairs, all of which I painted in a striking red and black. This was to be my office.
One day I arrived at my warehouse to discover that my coworkers from Mayo Clinic had decided to throw me an open house party. They wanted to see what I’d been building after work. They had set up a grouping of chairs so people had places to sit. A little embarrassed to find them there, I jumped down an unfinished corner bay into the snow bank that had accumulated below and ran to K-mart for some chips and salsa. Climbing the stairs back up to the party, I discovered two things: first, I’d installed one of the stair units at a 90-degree angle to the rest, making for a dangerous transition over a multi-story fall. I was surprised everyone had made it up to my office without anyone getting hurt. And second, that the lower floors were coated with dust and sawdust. I added cleaning to my to-do list.
I was a little stressed at this point, trying to clear a place on my desk to put the food and beverages. And it was at this point that Denny S. decided to make a joke at my expense. But he mumbled it under his breath, then immediately started laughing quietly to himself, so I didn’t hear what he said. “What was that, Denny?” He responded in the same mumbled tones, but was even harder to understand because of his chuckling. Out of patience, I rolled my eyes and decided to ignore him. As I turned away to place a large bag of chips against one of the bookshelves, I found one of the summer interns standing there. “Please move,” I told him, but he just looked at me as if I hadn’t said anything. “Get out of my way!” I yelled and he moved.
My boss, Brian M., overheard this interaction. “I can see we came at a bad time,” he said, “We’ll come back later.” And everyone started clearing out. I breathed a sigh of relief as I sat down at my desk.
That is when the building inspector showed up. He was concerned that I’d spent the last two years making renovations to a warehouse that belonged to someone else. He thought I was squatting. I assured him that the property was mine. I’d bought it from the previous owner for $10 as he was desperate to get rid of it. But the deed wasn’t in my files. “Just bring it to my office in the next week or so,” he said, “Otherwise I’ll have to shut you down.”
I took the elevator to street level and started walking home to look for the deed. As I walked, I thought about what I would call my new business venture. “Anderson Holding, L.L.C.” seemed like a good name, as did *Anderson Personal Storage*.
Dreamt of waiting for the results of the tryouts with Julie D. The tryouts were for a huge production that featured modern dance and live musical numbers. The tryouts were very competitive and both Julie and I were excited to be picked for the ensemble — a group of background dancers that would have minor roles. We were also both equally shocked that I was picked for a solo dance performance, which I’d have to choreograph myself. I immediately called Yuko-hime to tell her the news, and she wasn’t surprised at all. “You are a much better dancer than you give yourself credit for,” she told me.
The themes of the show were love and sexuality. Our costuming, for the most part, was skimpy to non-existent, with some pieces requiring partial or full nudity. In one piece I had to dance around an older woman suggestively while she sang, wearing nothing but a shear body suit that sparkled. My movements were clear and evocative, and some of the doubts that I and others had about my abilities began to melt away.
Throughout the development of the production, Julie continued to pester me with questions about my choreography, but I really had no idea what I was going to do, never having choreographed anything before. “I’m just going to wing it,” I told her, much to her dismay.
My solo piece bled into a large ensemble piece, which was to be frenetic and chaotic. It was the night of the show and I still had no idea what I was going to do. The music started. I walked onto the stage with slow, steady, steps, trying to make each step as precise and clear as I could. At certain points I’d gesture with one or both arms into the distance, reaching for something, pulling something back. The calm intensity of my simple movements contrasted sharply with the building energy of the music. I could feel the stillness of the other dancers as they waited for their cue. Then the stage exploded with activity and the music and dancers unleashed everything they had.
After the show, the producer called me out of the congratulatory crowd and, in front of everyone said, “That was perfect. And that’s exactly why we picked you for that solo.”
A party broke out backstage, with music and celebration and dancing. As I moved, I noticed how strong my posture had become, and how smooth my footwork was. My movements were so powerful that it felt like I wasn’t even touching the ground.
Dreamt of a series of huge fish-like creatures set in pairs on dry land. They had soft, grey bodies and heads with hooked mouths like those of moray eels. The first pair was the size of small cars, and each successive pair was larger than the next. The last fish was much larger than a blue whale and had a huge, bloody hand print on its tail.
Dreamt of a huge rectangular pool. The pool had monolithic concrete sides that fell sharply to a dark brown, oily fluid, much like crude oil. I watched as the man in the pool leapt up to grab the concrete lip, which was just barely in reach, then release his grip to fall back into the oil. He did this over and over again, falling in a different manner each time. I knew it was a performance art piece, but I still worried about him.
Dreamt of trying to set my butt up on the swing seat, but struggling with having the upper body strength to left myself high enough. The helicopter the swing was attached to started to move forward, so I had get myself situated and settled for a precarious seat, hoping I could adjust it later without falling.
As the helicopter carried me along, I passed over a woman in the field below, who looked up and waved. “How are you doing up there?”
“My brother is trying to kill me,” I answered.
The helicopter banked a sharp turn to the left and me and the swing swung out and around, directly into a volleyball net. I worried that we wouldn’t break free and/or I’d get caught in the net and injured.