Dreamt of watching Nick M.’s home while he was away. I moved the lawn in nice, neat rows. Then I used his roller brush to flatten out the snow where it hadn’t melted in the shade of the garage. As I did so, I kept finding random pieces of glassware with the brush. First a tempered glass coffee mug, then a low ball, then a juice glass, etc., until I had a large assortment sitting on the back stoop. I decided I’d wash them for him, even though it wasn’t on of tasks he’d asked me to do.
As I entered the house from the back yard, Nick came in the front door with a couple of friends. “Hey, Jeremy, thanks for your help! I needed a place for my friends to park, so I moved your car.”
“No problem!” I said. I found my car in Nick’s garage. He’d placed it on a blue lift that used hydraulics to lift it up towards the ceiling. I lowered the lift to realize there wasn’t enough room to drive my car out. He’s friends’ cars were blocking the door. So lifted my small, red Festiva over the other cars and set it down in the street.
Dreamt of telling my mother about a trip Yuko-hime and I took together. The town we went to had a lot of history, most of the buildings maintained their historical construction. I started in to a story about stopping in a bar when my mother interrupted me, “I know all about this town! They maintain their buildings in their historical construction and the bars only serve beer and wine!” She continued on, telling me everything she knew about the town. It was very clear that she wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say.
I left my mother in the living room, walked through the house to the kitchen, sat on the floor against the back wall, and cried.
I woke up crying.
Dreamt I was attending a concert in a wooden all. The stage was high and wooden, the floor was wooden, everything was wooden. The band was a beach-type band, playing “Under the Boardwalk” and “Margaritaville” and other such songs. Yuko-hime was there with me and we were bopping along with the music. My father was there, dancing with some children. In fact, there were a lot of children. As I looked around, I suddenly realized that the only adults there were parents or grandparents. Except of Yuko-hime and myself. We were the only childless adults there and I was overwhelmed with grief.
I woke up crying.
Dreamt that Yuko-hime and I were staying at a friend’s house during their family reunion. Three or four generations were all staying under the same roof, so Yuko-hime and I were sleeping in the attic. The only way to get up there was a ladder through a trap door, but it was clean and warm and I found the rusticness of the space perfect.
At one point the father in the household came up into the attic to visit me. “Jeremy, can we talk? My wife didn’t think you’d need this, but I thought I’d give it to you anyway,” he explained as we sat down together and he handed me a lump of metal. It was heavy and shiny and seemed to be stainless steel, but cast, not cut. It formed two words: “God” and “Far”. Turning it over in my hand, I found that if I held it just right, it fit my grip perfectly. And the more I looked at it, the more I read it as either “Go Far” or “Good”.
I dreamt Yuko-hime had returned home from a long trip. I had just finished teaching a group ballroom class when she came through the door, asking what I’d been teaching.
“Bolero,” I told her.
She didn’t know very much bolero, but wanted to learn. We danced close. One of my former instructors had explained how bolero was danced with more body contact than any other dance.
So Yuko-hime and I danced close. It was a little awkward at first, vaguely uncomfortable. We hadn’t seen each other for over two years, and this was very intimate.
At one point, she didn’t understand the figure I was leading, so I took some time to explain shifting bodies and lead and follow through a one-hand connection. She curled effortlessly into the cuddle position. We then moved on to developés through that one hand, how the body weight shifts but the center of balance does not.
After the lesson, Ohimesema wanted to sit and talk, to reconnect. “I need to be doing something when I talk,” I explained. “I can’t just sit and talk. Can we go for a walk? It’s not really about the walking. It’s about occupying my body…”
We went for a walk down a dirt road, through the woods. We came to a small bridge over a creek and we stood and listened to the water.
Dreamt of running through my old neighborhood and turning down the alley between the Red House and the Devilin’s. As I did so, I ran by a hive of angry bees. I didn’t see what angered them and it was clear they were a little confused themselves, but they were swarming and I ran through the swarm. I held my breath and closed my eyes and kept running. The bees didn’t sting me, but they swarmed my head and hands, getting caught in my hair and clinging to my wrists. As I ran, I tried to shake them off. I didn’t want to brush them or flick them, not wanting to get stuck. Eventually, all the bees left except for the one that had crawled into my left ear.
Dreamt I was hanging out with my brother, Eric A., has he was getting ready for a visit from the members of Ministry — Al Jourgensen, John Bechdel, and the others. He was setting up a sound system so he could play one of his old bootleg cassettes from the first Ministry concert he attended. The band arrived while he was still setting up, and Al headed over to see what Eric was doing, and Al was impressed. Eric finally got the system set up and hit “play”. The bootleg started with the intermission music, which happened to be “Welcome To The Jungle” by Guns & Roses.