Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Road Trip

I dreamt my home in Boston was a church/hostel. People were sleeping everywhere...beds, couches, the floor. I had to rise early. My mom was chirping orders, giving people food, getting everyone ready. Loud and social. As I got out of a cot next to the fireplace in the living room, someone from the floor jumped up to get in it, and a raggedy man, who had just stumbled in, laid across the foot of the bed. They kicked and pushed at each other, but both fell to sleep. I tried to put my shoes on, but ended up putting my foot in a bag and tieing the handles into a bow. J told me to hurry up, irritated. T was already out in the family van from my childhood with L. After dealing with the shoe, I sat in the backseat with my collegiate cross-country driving partners B and E on my lap. I fell asleep and woke up somewhere in the I's (Indiana? Illinois?) and we rode an arching bridge over a town of victorian homes that had been condemned. No one was ever allowed to stop. I could see shadows of children in the windows. There was a rhyme about the town, something about fingers left to tap on glass. We took the next turn and ended up going down a road that had huge fierce-looking fiberglass monsters (like a three-headed dog) on carnie haunted house spinning disks. The sun had set. Everyone was getting scared. I fell asleep with my head on the plastic sideboard.


Blogger R J Keefe said...

Well told. Ordinarily, I can't stand to hear people's dreams (my own are bad enough), but your account has a helpless flow that's very true to actual dreaming.

Tue Apr 26, 12:24:00 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home