2001-01-22 - 01:34:36

Is she me?

The future me?

The past me?

The in another universe me?

Or not me at all, but a symbol, a prophet, speaking to me in the guise of my own dreams. Speaking to me with my face on. Speaking to me by having me feel what�s going on in Her life.

Who is she? Who am I for that matter?

Last night I had several dreams . . . but all i remember are fragments, images. I�ve been sleeping alot lately. I went to bed at 4 last night and slept until 4 today. But rest does me good. They say you can�t store it up like nuts to use later when you need it, but I think you can. I�ve been sleeping alot. But there will be days coming when my life will be so full I won�t have time to sleep - so I�m luxuriating in it now.

One fragment I remember is me on my way home to the house I live in with my mother. (again, my mother�s presence in my dreams! whassup wit dat?) I don�t know what city we�re in - but its set in the present/future and we�re living in this apartment that I have never been in before with her. So I�m walking home past this bookstore. On one day I walk in and its fabulous, there are 3 or four floors crammed into this little space - THe books are lining the walls of these little rooms surrounding this narrow but large wooden staircase, and the books are even stacked up along the steps. Books everywhere, all of them I want to read. The place is run by these mad cool friends of my mom�s or something, an asian feminist woman and this black rasta literate man (Weetzie bat�s friends?) And its cold outside so maybe we�re in San Fran or somewhere. A while later, the bookstore has closed down and its empty. There�s nothing there. One day I decide to break in, and just sit where the books used to be. There are these small hanging wooden signs carved above the bookshelves, for the subjects of books. But they�re not subjects that describe what kind of books they are (history, psychology, etc) but they describe the philosophy of the Book. I can�t remember all the signs but I remember they were like Political Activism and shit like that. I decide that the bookstore�s closed down and I covet these signs, I want to have them for my own walls. So I decide to take one with me. I see the one that says Optimism and decide to steal that one off the wall. I unhook it and put it inside my coat. As I�m leaving I see another white woman around, she doesn�t see me take the sign. Later I find out she�s bought the bookstore and is going to fill it with books again and I�m glad. I don�t know if she is going to keep the signs or change the bookstore. But I�ve got my sign, my memory of it. I think that I would like to own a bookstore.

In another dream sequence - and I wish I could remember this whole dream because it was quite a complex storyline that would have made a great novel someday. I really have got to start keeping paper by my bed for this shit because I know it would make for good short stories. But after the main action of the story its at the end and me (my dreamself) is ver beautiful and brazen. I�m wearing this long red velvet robe for a coat, and I have taken off all my clothes and am naked underneath. I�m with a large group of people, at a conference or dinner with co-workers or at a large formal private party and everyone is dressed casual but part of the thing about the party is that the hostess has given us all the same shirt to wear - its a see-through lime green shirt. Everyone has changed and put these shirts on and the men are wearing them over little sleeveless undershirts or have jackets on with them and the women are wearing them with lovely skirts and jackets and they�re see through, but the women are wearing bras or lingerie so they look quite conservative almost. But I�m naked under the robe and noone knows this. So I put on the shirt and as I�m walking through a door, I�ve been talking to some men i know and they step on my robe and it comes off. But I�m not self-conscious at all, I flirt and go back up to them and collect my robe. Then at the dinner table I take off the robe and I�m sitting there with nothing on below and a see-through top on above and I�m very conscious of my sexuality and my nipples but noone notices that I�m naked because the table is high and it comes up above my nipples and there�s a tablecloth that covers my legs and the rest of the people at the table are oblivious. And that�s the end of the sequence, the phone rang or something and I woke up.

Interpretation of that one? Maybe I�m finally becoming conscious of my own sexuality. Maybe I�m finally getting turned on by myself. Maybe I think the rest of the world is completely blind to sexuality, or at least don�t want to see it in their normal settings, and I�m not blind anymore. But I�m proud of the dream because of the change in me. In the past whenever I dreamt of being naked in public, I was totally embarassed, but this time I wasn�t . In real life my friends laugh at me and call me a nudist because I like to be naked whenever I can and I�m not shy about it. But there was a time in my life when I was. And I think this dream is more symbolic anyway -its not about me being naked so much as me being metaphysically unclothed. Maybe I�m finally seeing that I have something unique and beautiful and ripe and attractive to offer the world, but the world is just not ready for me yet.