incessant- and perhaps incoherent- verbosity from an optimistic misanthrope.

4.05.2007

this is why going to sleep sober isn't all it's cracked up to be.

I had a vivid and disturbing dream last night. I was shacking up in this flop-house on northeastern Manhattan (in my dream it was in Harlem but I don't think that's correct). Instead of being on the water, though, the building was smack up against a hillside, a huge, rolling hillside with a metal fence running the length of it. Like, one whole side of the building was without windows because it was almost built into the hillside. People hung out on the rooftop, much like they do in front of the halfway houses that run the length of Summit Ave b/w Howell and Pine. Two of those people were jbin and Woody Harrelson, and the three of us started smoking crack out of a pipe fashioned from a test tube, with a screw-on cap/screen combination reminiscent of a Mason jar. The next thing I knew, I looked over, and jbin had shot an arrow through his dog's head. He'd done it from behind so that the arrowhead was protruding from between her beautiful (and now lifeless) eyes. Blood was trickling out of her mouth. I LOVE this dog as though she were my own, and this action broke my heart. I got up and walked to the edge of the roof, looking out at the fence. I wondered to myself if it were an electric fence, and just then I saw two raccoons come scrambling down the hill. One of them lost its footing and tumbled into the fence, and I watched it spasm and jolt as a current ran through it (Is that equivalent to lucid dreaming? I'm kind of inclined to think it is). While I was distracted by that, the other raccoon jumped over the fence and started to hiss and growl at me, shoulders haunched and fur standing straight up. I started to back away slowly, when he lunged and sunk his teeth into my wrist. I swear, I've never physically felt the pain in a dream like I did last night. It burned. I could feel it on my nerve endings. At times like these remembering dreams is overrated.