Today is the fifth anniversary of my very first journal entry. When I first started blogging, I dreamt of being that daring, edgy writer whose ideas would grab a tragically dull world by its lapels, punch it in the face and knee it in the groin. I was going to change everything.
In commemoration, here’s “First Post” once again, in its entirety:
Testing. Testing. This is my first attempt at a “web log,” or “blog,” as it were. Blog blog blog. Blog blog.
Those were some gonzo times, man, before I sold out. I miss the anger.
Last night’s dream:
I arrive at Mole’s old house on the mountain. I ring the bell. He answers the door. He doesn’t look happy.
I ask what’s wrong.
He says, “It’s bad.”
I ask, “What’s bad?”
He says, “You have to go in.”
He leaves. I go in.
Now I see what was bad. Seated in a semicircle of chairs are “Ingrid,” “Martha,” “Selena,” “Gringita,” “The Lady,” and a few other women I can’t really see in the dim lighting. I’m not sure who they are, but I’ve picked up on the pattern.
I suspect that Mole is playing an elaborate prank on me, and look around for cameras. I see none.
I say hello. They say nothing.
I ask whether this is a joke. They say nothing.
I ask if they’ve met each other, even though it looks like they already have. They say nothing.
I ask if they’ve eaten. They say nothing.
I ask if they have any intention of saying anything. They say nothing.
It is bizarre. It’s as though the whole dream were directed by Lynch in one of his slow moods. After another series of questions and non-responses, they get up one-by-one, hand me slips of paper with their phone numbers–each of which begins with a four-digit area code–and leave.
I walk out onto the front porch and watch a convoy of cars navigate down the gravel driveway and disappear into the woods.
Mole reappears. I tell him that I’m not sure, but I think that was bad.
5 thoughts on “Five Years!”
It seems your dreams (more often than not) have a beginning, middle and end. It’s been a long time since Psychology 101, but don’t most people’s dreams just start in the middle of an interesting situation, and/or end before the normal resolution?
My admittedly quick and dirty attempts at googling an answer provided me with explanations for Inception and opinions on the economy.
Frustrations with feminine disability to communicate thoughts, needs and wants?
Something like that.
I shouldve gone with a psychology major.
I am compelled to give a little advice here, even though I and my crooked tooth may be unwelcome on your blog. But if the latter is the case, my comment will be easy enough for you to delete.
I was a Psych major, do you remember?
Dreams repackage the events and people from our life, along with our thoughts and emotions (conscious and subconscious) about them. Any meaning you ascribe to them, is up to you. Only you can truly know and understand your deepest desires and worst fears. Only you know the totality of your life experiences and can see the patterns of behavior and interaction that emerge.
That said, from my perspective, as your former acquaintance and a female, it seems possible that you have a guilty conscience or some regrets as it pertains to your interactions women. One question you could ask yourself is why you might feel uncomfortable about us meeting each other? Or maybe there something you want to say to all of us?
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