Thu, 19 May 2005

Dreams (three different ones)
I had somehow convinced the small town of Shell Rock that I was really Stephen King. What was most curious was I had convinced many of my relatives of this as well, as the entire town (mostly) had come to the new library right off the Shell Rock River to hear me read from my new book. Unfortunately, the only Stephen King book they had in had pages missing, and I didn’t think to bring my own copy (I’m not sure if this was a deliberate scam on my part, or one of those mistaken identity things), so I went down to the general store on Cherry Street to see if they had a copy. Only on my way [something happened] and I was with my sister out in teh river, which was frozen over, and wolves were hopping across the ice flows, circling in on us, and my mom drove out across the water to pick us up. As we got in the truck, my mom closed the door on my sister, who was a small bean-doll, and I was very upset. It instantly became night and summer, and I stormed out of the car down an abandoned stretch of highway, rolling through a cornfield, and this car started following us (it was not my mom) and slowing down, turning its headlights off, and I had to be careful not to drop my sister as I started running.

i was looking for on old associate of mine at what appeared to be a whole-town celebration of christmas, only it wasn’t christmas, and this was the town’s last year, as the city council had decided there just wan’t enough going on and everybody was going to have to move before the bulldozers came in. jenna and eric were there, working the lights for some kinda high school gymnastics/debate performance, which is probably how it was i ended up looking for this associate, who was supposed to dj at some later point (i was quite suprised to see, when poking through his vinyl box, that this associatehas gotten into mira calix) and, last anybody had seen of him, went out to walk around in the snow. i left through the top doors over the bleachers, taking the sneaky access tunnel out to the field, where i found a set of large bootprints which i kept following until i thought to myself “the woozle is you, darren, go back inside”, which i did, after harvesting some icicles, and i got in just in time to see the third and fourth graders do an interpretive dance on the destruction of the city.

Had a box on the floor marked “my first skin: old life” that I was shoveling letters and cds and clothes into for a goodwill run, immediately piling up everything I hadn’t unpacked since moving in three months ago into the giveaway pile. I gave up my old jane’s addiction bootlegs, my inability to not spell the as teh, my copy of finnegan’s wake I knew I’d never really read, one single long red hair, three twelve-gauge shells, my dreams of higher education, a chipped homemade bong, coffee filters, a stack of typewritten poems, and a ring I used to wear on a chain, tossing them all in the box, telling myself for the third time that week that really, truly, I was making a big dramatic show of putting away childish things, which meant I had to be a grown-up now. For real. Seriously.
(12:06.05.19.2005) [/alpha] #