Category: general

a dream I had about a five-part Steven Spielberg movie

I don’t know where I was; it was a large room with a lot of people, mostly black girls; but we were watching a movie. It was one I’d never heard of and it was weird in the sense that the plot seemed to be all over the place. It wasn’t until I looked at the packaging; perhaps it was a Blu-ray Disc; that I realized it was a Steven Spielberg movie; a new one I must’ve missed the build-up for.

It was promoted as a “five-part epic”. It might’ve been another pretentious term instead of “epic”, but I clearly remember reading it being described as a five-parter, which made sense because it seemed like a mishmash of different movies from different genres. It also made sense that it was a Spielberg movie because the grandiose production suggested it cost a lot of money to make.

One part had a full cast of people singing and dancing like West Side Story, but the part I remember the most is the one I woke up at the end of; a poignant religious sequence about life and death. It started with two women giving birth or one woman giving birth to twins. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of people there, in a church, engaged in what seemed to be some kind of baptism.

Except for the guys who were down on their knees, apparently praying thru the whole thing, everyone was dancing, shouting and carrying on as the first baby emerged, the umbilical cord was presumably cut and one of the members raised the bloody thing up above his head. That’s when the celebration came to its peak. It wasn’t until the second baby emerged that things started to go astray.

The second baby wasn’t crying or wiggling around like the first one. It was DOA; dead on arrival; or what the medical world euphemistically refers to as a stillbirth. The guy who was supposed to hold it up above his head like The Lion King looked down to the guys on their knees. One of them was almost as still as the baby. The baby holder or someone kicked him over to his side. He was dead asleep.

That’s when the pandemonium began. Apparently the prayers were there to ensure nothing went wrong during the childbirths. When they realized he fell asleep, he was instantly to blame for the death of the baby. I thought they’d beat him up or something, but what happened was even worse as they dragged him over to a tub of water apparently reserved for baptizing the babies.

He surprisingly never awoke as they put him face down in the water. He was a somewhat heavyset Hispanic-looking man probably in his 20s with decades of life ahead of him. His only sin was falling asleep during a church ritual; poor thing probably stayed up late the night before; but they didn’t care. In their minds, this was justice; an eye for an eye, as the saying goes; and he deserved death.

As he lay there motionless; eventually two or three girls casually went over to sit on top of him; I thought about dying that way. You’d think a person would awake when they start to drown, I thought, but apparently not. I thought about Whitney Houston and her daughter, though they were reportedly subdued by drugs. I thought about the transition from sleep to death. Then I awoke.

2022 [ February 05 ]

a dream I had about having an interesting discussion with a woman at a table

I don’t know where we were; it seemed like an otherwise empty room in some kind of private building; but I think it all started with a poster on the wall. It had some kind of message written on it and, though I assumed it was related to “LGBT” or some other similarly ridiculous cause, I asked what it meant.

The answer had to do with the woman’s daughter, or perhaps another woman’s daughter, being bisexual and pregnant. “At least you said ‘bisexual’ and not ‘gay’,” I said in response, perhaps not in these exact words; “Sometimes pregnant women claim to be lesbians and I always wonder how that works.”

I understood a woman could get pregnant by means other than having sex with a man they’re sexually or romantically attracted to, but I was speaking in a general sense. If I made that distinction in the dream, I don’t remember doing so. I do, however, remember being surprised when they agreed with me.

“They” were a black woman and man probably around my age or a little younger; there may have also been a person or few standing around listening to us; but most of the conversation was between me and the woman as we sat, though she started off standing, at what looked like some sort of conference table.

From there, the discussion went quickly down the rabbit hole, as the saying goes, to other controversial topics. I don’t remember what else we talked about other than the “LGBT” stuff, but everything from politics to race to anything else I wanted to discuss and debate was potentially on the table.

That’s what made it captivating for me. Aside from the surprise agreement that started it, we were mostly disagreeing. It was civil; no yelling or anything like that; but we were both literally and figuratively on different sides of the table. The man, who sat almost behind me, was more of a moderator.

It got so interesting, in fact, that I asked if I could record it. “Audio only,” I clarified. “No video,” then I paused for a second, “unless you want to go there.” The woman was reluctant at first, but when I said she could record it too, she said of course she would and set her phone down on the table like I did mine.

At that point, I had already told her that the reason I wanted to record audio of the conversation was because I hated how when I had arguments and debates with other people in the past, they would later claim they didn’t say some of the things they said. That was true, but I also wanted it for the site.

2021 December 30

a dream I had about staying in a college dorm

My room was actually pretty nice. It was quite spacious, at least compared to my bedroom at home, with an exit/entrance door on each end and a TV and bed in the middle. That was the problem. There was just one normal-sized bed and everyone in the dorm was expected to have a roommate.

It seemed everyone else already did, but, perhaps because I was the newest arrival, I was placed in a room to myself until someone else came to be my roommate. There was a possibility I was the final tenant and I’d have the room to myself all semester long, but I knew that was unlikely.

It was even more unlikely that it would be an attractive (pretty/cute) girl, which I’d like almost as much as being alone; I actually heard the bed-bumping sounds of people having sex in other rooms when I awoke that morning; or a girl at all as roommates seemed to be matched by gender.

The thought of staying there with some dude was sickening. Sharing a bed, like two fags, would be nearly unbearable. Sure I could always go home if worse came to worst, but that would defeat the purpose of coming there to fully experience the college life, plus I’d already paid for the damn room.

My thoughts were interrupted when my friend Leanne, speaking of girls I wouldn’t mind rooming with, walked in. I’d left both doors open. She was already grinning before I started expressing aloud my concerns about living the gay life. She apparently had a female roommate and was fine with it.

I can’t remember what all we said, but I was telling her how I dreaded the thought of sharing a bed; I’d mentally prepared myself to share a room but not a bed; with a guy and she was laughing. It might’ve been her who said they’d probably bring in a second bed, which made me feel a lot better.

I don’t know if I was still dreaming or if I’d awaken when I thought of pushing a bed to either side of the room, literally against the walls, so that me and my roommate would be as far apart as possible. Us not being able to see the TV at a proper angle would be among the least of my concerns.

2021 [ December 18 ]