Looking

I keep having dreams.

It’s comforting to know that when I move I feel Blinky move around me and I know that I’m not alone. Sometimes I wake up with a vague reminder of a dream and I struggle to remember it because I want to know, because I like knowing things. Other times I wake up and I feel disturbed because I remember and it was unpleasant and all sorts of awful, but I still like knowing things, even things that are better left buried. It’s almost like I like having fodder, something to drive myself into the ground. I believe to a certain extent that all women are like this. I am usually uncomfortable making such blanket statements, but a good chunk of us have this problem. We wanna know, we don’t wanna know. But really, we WANNA KNOW NO MATTER HOW AWFUL IT IS.

Last night I passed out sometime after 3AM and dreamt that I was famous for inventing Cheerios. I’m not sure if this is because I’ve been reading books about food before I go to bed. I remember being uncomfortable being famous. I didn’t want people looking at me and they were always looking. I suddenly understood why celebrities go crazy and get nose jobs, even Weird Al. Everyone is always looking at you. I remember being at a They Might Be Giants show realizing I was standing behind Weird Al. He was wearing a pair of black jeans, a white sweater and flip flops. I found flip flops to be a bold choice for a concert. When I was a teen I used to wear steel toed boots to shows lest I get stomped to death. People kept walking up to him during the show and asking him if he was Weird Al and when he’d say yes, their faces would light up and they’d get all excited and tell him they loved his work. I spent a good chunk of the show watching this happen. This is how I recognized that he had gotten a nose job.

My dream taught me that when you’re famous everyone is looking at you.

Blinky woke me up because she was hungry. I shuffled to the kitchen and fed her before deciding to go back to bed. Yoga could wait. Everything inside of me was tired. I fell asleep again.

This morning I dreamt that Jeff and I were waiting for BART to take us back to the city from Oakland. I don’t remember why we were in the East Bay. When a train pulled up, oddly enough it was on the other side of the tracks but Jeff ran to this platform and pulled out a gate and a walkway appeared so people on our side of the tracks could board it.

People boarded. I was confused and didn’t understand if this was our train or if Jeff was just being polite and letting people who had make a mistake get to their correct train. I didn’t board because I didn’t understand. When the train pulled away everyone was gone and I was the only person left on the platform

Dejected, I walked out of the BART station and started to walk. The sun was mostly gone. I didn’t quite know where I was going but I walked the direction the train left. I took my shoes off because my feet hurt. I walked and walked and had started to cry. It’s amazing how real emotions are in dreams. I wake up and they linger. Days later I remember being upset but I don’t remember why and I can’t put my finger on where these feelings came from. I walked and threw my shoes at passing cars. I wished I had a car. I wished I knew if this was the right way. I wished that there were other people around so I could ask someone but there was no one so I kept walking and walking.

The sun was gone but the moon was nowhere to be found.

I came upon a bus stop. It looked like a bus stop but there were no numbers, no bus lines, and the signs were so old and weathered the words were unreadable. There was a little bench so I sat down.

Five minutes later a bus pulls up and stops. I look at it like it’s a completely foreign concept, an alien. The bus driver opens the front door and he motions for me to get on. I do.

The bus is full. I look around and there is nowhere to sit. I look around and realize that the bus is full of people that were at the BART station and they were all staring at me, every single one of them. I look to the back and see there’s an empty seat next to Jeff so I sit in it. No one says anything. No one has said anything this entire time. This dream is a silent movie without the exaggerated expressions.

Jeff handed me a tissue and I blew my nose and felt stupid.

When you’re not famous you just feel like everyone is looking at you.

While writing this Blinky bit my arm and made her little cat squeak like I had bitten her.

Freak.

I need to go to the kitchen and slice some peaches so I can sit near a window and eat breakfast and listen to Patty Griffin ala Katie.

I need a degree in Oneirology.

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