Dream voice: He will walk as if lifted on strings of air.
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Vancouver. Riding alone on a Skytrain that is 3/4 completed. A lot of wiring hanging about. I am sitting on a side seat facing East as the train is travelling South along Clark Street which turns into Knight Street later. At Clark and 1st Avenue, the tracks end suddenly. The bridge is out. I am in the train as it goes over and falls.
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Dream voice: The ball was driven to the 18th hole.
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Tuesday, January 11, 2012
I own a BMW. Not a black 1988 BMW 325i as I, as you might know from my History of the World video, have been thinking about getting one day.
In the dream, "I now own" a White BMW 500 series from the early 80s. It has the insectoid look of the BMW 320i from the mid-80s but is more elongated.
The swirling propeller logo was sharply visible on the hood.
In the dream, the trunk does not fully close.
At first, I get in on the front passenger side. I fiddle around with the clutch or stick shift with my left hand. I then walk over to the front right hand side, the driver's side. There is a cluster of branches and yard foliage in the front seat which I have to clear before getting into the drivers seat.
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Dream, Sunday February 19, 2012
Segment of a longer dream: I was at my parents house again. I was in my old room, the middle bedroom of 3 bedrooms in the basement, not the room farthest South.
I look down, nearest the window, on a gyprocked cement rest built as part of the wall there is a book about Thailand. It is upside down to me. It has a buddha head set against a clear topaz blue skyline. In gold stylized upper case letters, the word THAILAND on the book. I had my travel bag with me and was picking out things in the room to take with me. I saw the Thailand book but had made up my mind about the place to such and extent that I deliberately chose not to take the book with me and simply did not pick it up to put in my travel bag. I guess it's in my soul now that I am decided against going there ever again. If you make up your mind about someone or something, if you see it in the dream world, you will also avoid it.
Note: Another time, in the past, I had a dream about this same room. This time, there was a television with a built in speaker at the bottom segment of the television as this was to be my entertainment system as I removed here temporarily, very temporarily.
I was in my old high school. My locker was on the second floor of the high school.
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Dream, Wednesday, February 22 2012
Leaving a mall with a dime bag of weed in my pocket.
I go to Victory Square Park, I see my old friend Jon, a pot dealer. He tells me how to smoke crack. To smoke it in a glass pipe like a vaporizer. I showed him and told him that I use a regular pipe and mixed the crack in with the weed. He said that's not the way to do it.
Then.
During the conversation that Jon and I had a lady in her late 20s, shoulder length reddish brown hair, wearing a red, white and black sporty jacket, the red forming a triangle on her jacket, one of those kind of jackets.
She said, "Do want to buy some crack?"
I ignored her. As I was walking away, she asked, Do you want to buy some crack for the second time. I was walking towards Hastings Street. I wasn't planning to score crack anyways, neither in the dream nor in real life. I don't score crack.
She continued on, saying, "You could either score from him and get ripped off. Or you could score down there and stand the chance of getting arrested." When she said him, she motioned to Jon.
I kept on walking.
She then said, "Have you ever been picked up?"
She then said, "Come here."
I walked over to the path that cuts adjacent, to the side, in the park.
She was an undercover cop. She told me to stand with my arms spread straight out to the side. She was searching me. I heard the Police radio go on with the radio chatter and the squelch and the static.
I thought about the dime bag of weed in my right hand jacket pocket. Somehow the dream ended and she never found the dime bag of weed.
It was what she said. That conversation, her words are very vividly memorable.
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Dream, Friday February 24, 2012
I was in an alley. I was facing the corner of a brick building. I was smoking a joint. Then I turned around. There were two cops. They were wearing a short sleeve light blue shirt and cops caps. They said, "Put that joint out!"
I walked and threw it down near a puddle.
I was going to stop and pick it up for later, but one of the two cops said, "Forget about that! Leave it there!"
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Dream, Saturday February 25, 2012
I was on a Greyhound Bus. After an hour trip, it arrived in Chetwynd. The bus driver got off. The bus driver was speaking to a female about the trip. The female said, "You missed one passenger but that passenger was a late passenger. You left the depot exactly on time with no delays."
The bus driver got off the bus leaving those on the bus for those who were going to get off, they had to get off here. Otherwise, they were to wait until the bus driver returned.
I got off the bus. As I was walking off the bus, I saw a French guy. A youth. Street guy. He had a goatee and was wearing a white t-shirt with some kind of radical street design on it.
I get off the bus. I am aware that I am a traveller in a new town. I realize that I don't have my watch with me. My telepathic history at this point includes me thinking, "Maybe I could get 20 baht noodles, like in Bangkok."
I turn a corner and turn around. This town looks a lot like Dawson Creek, but without the grain elevator.
I walk ahead, forward, along the grass, looking down at the grassy floor. I remember thinking, "This town probably has a few drug dealers. Every town has its drug connections." I heard a truck in the distance, one of those jacked up hydraulic trucks with young people in it. The radio in the truck was playing loudly and I could hear it at this distance.
Then I went to a Buddhist temple. There was an exam. A morality exam. Multiple choice. One of the choices of one of the questions was, A person is involved in an accident, do they, A, B, C, or D? One of the replies, reply B said, "Go home and make 30 grams of tarow first."
The morality exam is apt. As you may or may not know, I am struggling with not merely acute, but profound suicidal ideation. But this part of the dream figures that to decide whether or not to commit suicide is a moral decision and one that matters.
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Dream, Tuesday February 28, 2012
I walk through a dark cavernous industrial factory. Miners, factory men lit by the fires of the factory. I say hello to all of them. I fist bump one of them, fist moving up down initially but then flatways.
Skytrain tracks leading to a square brick glass building. The corner of the building. Night time.
Skytrain. I walk on the tracks. The train approaches. I calmly walk onto the other tracks of the train going the other way. Then I walk back on to the original tracks as the train on THAT set of tracks approaches.
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Dream, Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Warm summer day. I was at a train station. Third World. There was a train approaching on the other side, the left hand tracks. On the right hand tracks there was a train going in the other direction. It was no ordinary train. It was a train with only a flat floor although the floor was smooth new flat single piece plywood floor, and the plywood looked as new exactly as that which you see at the hardware store heavenly vibration and the floor was clean swept, no dirt or dust particles or scraps of garbage as you would expect to see in this dimension, four small pillars and a roof. The train was going to Cambodia.
I saw other people on the train station. Hop on, I said, as I was at this point already sitting on the train.
I was facing backwards. The train was moving, travelling to Cambodia.
I sat on the train. Characteristically, I half closed my eyes. I noticed four people, Cambodians, sitting around me.
Note: Cambodia means death. Everyone knows that. Either I had this dream as a response to the News of Jim Green dying yesterday or else maybe I myself will be dead soon. I don't care. The way it is, I would rather be dead than to be a loser. Truth be told, looking at my life, I should have killed myself when I was ten which was how old I was when I made my first suicide attempt. Better dead than for life, my life to go on with its usual sad retarded loser pace. Life is precious, life is to be cherished, they say. Is feelings of disempowerment also precious?! Is seeing others win all the time while you chronically lose, year in year out, is that also precious?!
My friend Chen San tried to commit suicide when he was a teenager. His father walked in on him and stopped it. As I see it, Chen San may have been better off had he committed suicide because now, he is age 43, still living with his father, he never scores with women, never has. Dropped out at grade five and sits at home eating a diet of nothing but ramen noodles or else Campbell's Chunky Beef soup that eats like a meal so that as a result, he is 70 pounds overweight. Someone like that is definitely better off dead!
The last Emperor of the Ming Dynasty committed suicide. He hung himself.
Suicide is a valid choice of the Chinese aristocracy.
Confucius or Mencius said, "I want life but I also want yi, if I can not have yi then I don't want life. Therefore it could be said that there are some things which I want more than life and that there are some things I fear more than death."
Life is a job, if you don't like the job, quit it. I walked out on so many people, have since boycotted so many places and quit so many jobs. It's time I quit the Big Job. Objectively as well as subjectively, I am a loser.
Like that French guy said in Tarzan Lord of Greystoke, "It is something you must face. It is something that you must come to terms with."
Being a loser is something I have faced and come to terms with. The question is, what position am I to do anything about it? I wish I had killed myself years ago.
I would rather be back on that train to Cambodia now. Sure, things might change and get better and I might not be a loser for too much longer. But what if I am? What if I live another 20 loser years to look back and say, I should have committed suicide years ago? I don't know if I want to take that chance.
I send a clear message to my family, the towns I have been to, what I think of them if I commit suicide. That is to say, "I would rather commit suicide than to see you ever again. I would rather commit suicide than to ever visit your waste of time jerkwater town ever again."
At least I can say that I am in the town that I want to die in. I could never really quite ever say that about any other town I have been in. That is how much I think of this town. I would be fully comfortable with dying in this town. If I am going to live the rest of my life as a loser I would really rather die in my sleep soon. Just go to dreamland and not come back. There are no guarantees, but if I were to live the rest of my life as a loser, I definitely would say, I should have committed suicide years ago. It would have saved me all those years of grief!
I don't want to say that which is why I am constantly ever wondering whether or not I would be just as well to commit suicide now.
I have a lot of good friends and I see them all the time. Life is like a diamond with many facets which each could respectively only be viewed if looked at from a certain angle. Suicide, life as a loser, all of that makes sense only if viewed from a certain angle. From another angle, it is absurd. There is the old joke, Doctor it hurts every time I do this. In which the doctor says Then don't do that.
Suicide makes sense if life is viewed from that certain angle. Then stop viewing life from that angle!
Note: In the dream, I sensed that the trains, the train station I was at was quite far away from Cambodia and also, I was facing away from Cambodia, not towards.
This might perhaps mean that death is on my mind and that sure, I will die one day, but not for quite awhile.
Note: in the two dreams. It involves two sets of train tracks. One a sky train and one a conventional train. A train coming on the other side and a train coming on this side in this direction.
Also, later on in the dream, I saw William Roache of Coronation Street. In the dream, he catches an older friend of his cheating on his wife. He confronts the man but he makes a speech or gesture which has the ability to put the entire situation at ease.
William Roache says to the man, "You always were years younger than me. You still are!" And everyone laughs!
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