nepenthean's Diaryland Dream Diary


bad, just... bad

i dreamed i was walking through a certain long-closed area for the first time when i discovered some of my own things laying in the dirt: my literary theory book, my keys, a used packet of hot sauce*, and, next to them, one of my father's fancy shirts at the bottom of a bucket. i picked up my stuff, pulled out the shirt and looked it over, and was horrified by the amount of dirt on it. how was i going to explain it? ugh. for some reason i picked up the bucket as well, happy to have "a new one." i glanced down a construction area and saw a narrow walkway, and began conversing with a neighbor about how heavily used the path really is. we had had no idea! people were streaming down the sidewalk like ants.

when i got around the corner, i said goodbye to her and paused at a picnic table to say hello to will farrell, a local dad. will was trying to light things on fire with inappropriate tools, and encouraging his children to the same. i said, "what are you doing??" and he said, "watch this." he flicked some bleach at a candle and somehow it threw off sparks. he threw some of the bleach my way and i said, "hey! watch it, man." a jackie chan type of guy came over and began scrubbing his white shirt with the bleach. he reminded me of when i worked in an ice cream parlor because i could never get all the food dye out of my shirts, so i started scrubbing a shirt as well. sometime later i tired of the activity and started to leave. i asked will why he'd chosen me for the shirt scrubbing event, and he said that it was random. as i walked down the block with the sun setting at my back, i saw some bohemian chicks ahead of me. "hey!" i wanted to yell to them, "wanna scrub some shirts?" who knew, maybe they would want to do that.... with will farrell and jackie chan.

*this whole dream is about doing laundry, but the book, hot sauce packet, and keys from the beginning are things someone placed on my bed this evening after they cleared off the kitchen table. i'm sure the packet is some commentary on eating out and a stubborn refusal on the part of the table clearer to throw away anything that isn't "his." stupid man.

9:13 p.m. - 2005-10-14


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