Sunday, January 11, 2015

Dreamt that I attended a kind of immersive theater experience set in a bar. The performance entailed zombies attacking the bar. No one knew when it was to begin, so no one knew when the zombies would appear. The tension was agonizing. I was watching the main floor of the bar from the second-floor balcony when they burst into the crowd. I saw one lunge at someone, leaping over people and riding their bodies like a crowd surfer.

Tuesday, January 06, 2015

I impulsively bought lots of tickets for things. A late-season Yankee game with them already out of the running. A Talking Heads reunion tour minus David Byrne. Lou Reed, not yet dead in my dream. There might have been something else, too. Something where Dr. John was the opening act. The Grateful Dead were doing a reunion tour and I was thinking about going to that. It occurred to me that lots of these things would not be very good, and that I’d spent a lot of money on them, so I went to try to sell my tickets. I arrived at a sort of entertainment complex, with an outdoor amphitheater and an indoor arena and some other performance spaces. I wasn’t having much luck. I realized I was going to have to enlist some people to go with me, and I couldn’t think of who.

Monday, January 05, 2015

I was issued some kind of reprimand, first by the principal of my high school for being late to class without permission. Then it turned into something worse, something involving my work, and I was required to assemble a sort of jury and make my case to them. We sat around a table and I presented the facts in my defense. At the end I thanked them for their time, very genially, almost warmly.

Sunday, January 04, 2015

A work dream in which I was concerned that everyone thought I was weird. The workplace was a vast outdoor park, with employees sitting in groups, like at a concert. I had a boom box that I loaned to a coworker, a young woman. For some reason, we used it in our work. I crouched in front of her and explained that I'd need it back tomorrow morning. She indicated the group beside her and said, "They're drinking beer and shots," and I turned to them and made a plaintive, shrugging gesture, like, "Where's mine?" and one of them handed me a glass of beer and a shot, which I drank. I stood up, said bye to the woman and thanked the others, thinking that the interaction had gone well and that I wasn't too much of a freak. Later, the woman gave a speech to the entire agency and I realized that she was an important person, a higher-up. I tried to appear to be listening dutifully, standing among coworkers.

I also dreamt about eating at an outdoor table at a restaurant in France with my dad and Jesse.

Later, I was in a group of people at a swimming pool, possibly taking lessons. The instructor had us get into an adjacent hot tub. There was a feeling of airy conviviality. John D., Pat C. and Mark B. were there. I was happy to see them. We swam laps.

Saturday, January 03, 2015

The band had a gig. Except it wasn't quite music, it was more like hockey. Somehow, I had befriended a legendary figure who lived around town. He was a cross between Doc Watson and Gordie Howe. I planned to drop by his place to borrow a plastic face mask. I called him from my car, fumbling with an old flip-style cell phone and skidding around through snow. His wife answered. I was suddenly unsure of his first name, but I asked for him anyway, guessing at a name —I can't remember what. She said he was out. I said, "Tell him I called." I was spooked that I'd be playing tonight without a mask. I returned to the band house and told Chris W., "Fuck it, plenty of guys have played without a mask. So neither will I."