twisted fantasies with missing friends

Good morning, everybody.

This post is related to this entry in my dream journal blog.

Um... first of all, Billy Corgan is not dead. Thank God!

I checked the news just now. I guess the news that's out there on Billy Corgan is that he and the rest of Smashing Pumpkins are releasing a new album called Oceania on June 19th.

I would say that Billy Corgan was on my mind, first of all because of the comment I made in the dream -- which I'd noticed with some sort of devilish glee in waking life -- that Elena Anaya looks like Billy Corgan on the poster for the Almodovar forced-fem film La Piel Que Habito.

But I have also thought about Corgan a lot, as I've been listening to the song "Stand Inside Your Love" from the Smashing Pumpkins album Machina: The Machines of God quite a bit.

I think part of the idea of the killer comes from my reading in the news yesterday about the trauma surgeon from Buffalo, New York, who is being sought -- country-wide! -- as a person of interest in the shooting death of his ex-girlfriend.

And I guess -- there's a story about Jello Biafra, I believe, how when he and the Dead Kennedys got really famous, that Biafra got jumped and beat up by a whole bunch of his "fans" outside a club one night. The "fans" beat up Biafra as a punishment for, in their minds, selling out.

Yesterday afternoon I was looking through the Taschen book of photos by Pierre et Gilles. One of the photos shows a beautiful, wealthy-looking couple in front of a sunset in the 1970s. The photo is highly stylized. But the background looks like the interior of the Mabuhay club, where Bruce Conner photographed a lot of punk shows.

In fact, the hairstyles of the guys in the punk photos weren't too far different from the hairstyle of the guy in the Pierre et Gilles photo. I got the feeling, looking at the Conner punk photos, that the people going to these punk shows were people who'd sooner or later have job-jobs in offices, and be sell-outs, just like they'd accused Biafra of being a sell-out. Looking at the Pierre et Gilles photo just cemented that idea in my mind.

I can't really say, though, why all of that transferred itself onto Billy Corgan.

The dream that struck me the most, however, was the "Orange" dream. I found it interesting that the company I was going to work for was called "Orange." I could make a few assumptions about that offhand.

First of all -- the Google Blogger format involves a lot of orange.

Second -- there are two music videos I've been watching on YouTube lately that involve the color orange. One is the video "Colors," by the artist Utada Hikaru.

There is a line in the song that goes "orenji iro no yuuhi wo tonari de miteru dake de," which, in my limited understanding of Japanese, means something like "do you remember seeing the orange sunset?" Or "sunrise." I'm not sure.

I love this song quite a bit. But, for some reason, the use of the word "orange" in it bugs me. I really have no idea why.

There's another j-pop song which uses the color orange. It's a song called "Milk Chapon," by the artist Yuu Takahashi.

But even with these songs, I really have no idea why "orange" entered my dream in such a forceful way.

A little history on myself relating to this dream -- I think it comes out pretty clear in the dream -- is that I worked in the Equity Research industry for a few years. I worked first at a large bank, where I met the friend in my dream.

I'd actually worked my way up from being a temporary employee to being a permanent Administrative Assistant, to being a first-level Financial Analyst. When the financial crisis first hit, I got laid off from that bank.

I was unemployed for a while, then moved to a smaller firm. I was actually promoted to a higher position, that of Associate, while I was at that firm. But, for some reason I got pretty close to having a nervous breakdown, and I left the firm.

I was unemployed for a good number of months. I had decided (for personal reasons) not to go on unemployment. I spent all the money I had in my bank account. Penniless, I came back home.  I got a job unrelated to Equity Research in my hometown of Denver, Colorado. But I miss New York, and I miss the work I was doing out there.

Yesterday, there was a conference in Denver related to the industry I was doing research on at the smaller firm. I contacted my old boss, to see if he was in Denver. But he hadn't come to the conference.

I then thought of my old friend ES. I thought I might see if there were any Denver conferences related to the industry she's now covering in the near future. I thought if there were, I'd try to see if I could see her for a few minutes while she was out here. I would really love to see my old friend.

So, to counteract the sadness I had when I thought of my old friend, I obviously had a dream with my friend in it. It was a fantasy dream, in a sense, because it had me working for her, which would be kind of like heaven for me, even though I don't think it would ever happen. The reasons for it not happening in the dream, though, are far from the reasons for it not happening in reality. The reasons in my dream are, obviously, part of my own personal insecurities.

I think one reason this dream came on so strong, as well, was that I watched the David Cronenberg film Spider last night. In the first scene of the film there are a bunch of people getting off a train. One of the women looks a lot like my friend. And when Spider (played by Ralph Fiennes) gets off the train, I feel a lot like him. I feel crazy, isolated, completely out of the stream of the rest of society.

I think the vision of my friend's crotch in the dream come from my reading in the news about a Representative in the state of Michigan who was barred from speaking in the Michigan state House of Representatives because, during her remarks on an abortion rule, she mentioned her vagina.

This seems obviously stupid to me. How could somebody not be allowed to discuss vaginas during a debate on abortion? Anybody who can't think about a vagina cannot by any means say that they are making an educated, informed decision about abortion laws. It's stupid. And it is one of those things that, while appearing to promote an image of increased professionalism, serves really to bar women from a certain level of professionalism by labeling a certain part of their body itself as being unprofessional.

I don't know why that image had to connect to my old friend in this dream. She's a woman, and she's extremely professional, and nobody has of yet done anything to keep her from achieving basically everything she's wanted to achieve. I admire my friend a lot.

The dream ends with a fantasy of me being an adult baby for my friend. I think that would really make my friend sick if she ever heard about it.

Another old friend that I miss in New York then showed up in my last dream of the night. She tended bar at a karaoke bar I would always go to. I love to sing karaoke, and I actually do a lot of Japanese karaoke, even though I don't really know how to speak Japanese (imagine the agony for listeners to that!). I had a huge crush on my friend -- of course I'd never tell her something like that. I wouldn't want to bug her with that. But now that I can't see her, I miss her a lot.

And, of course, I miss my ex-girlfriend H, even though we still talk from time to time.

The only other image I wanted to talk about was the goslings. In my walks through my neighborhood, I actually pass two geese who are raising their little goslings. The goslings, actually, aren't so little anymore. They're about three-quarters the size of their parents. But they still have their immature feathers: kind of pea-yellow and black feathers, all scruffy looking.

I just think the goslings I walk past in waking life are so cute! I'm not sure why they end up so distorted in my dream. Or -- why they end up talking. Weird.

dressing in drag in drag

Good morning, everybody.

This post is related to this entry in my dream journal.

I think I'd like to start with the second dream, because it's so easy for me to see where the actual imagery came from.

Yesterday I was looking at the Dust Jacket Attic blog, which showed some really nice photos of the BCBG Max Azria Resort 2013 collection.

One of the photos the blog showed was this one:

Notice the v-shape to the top. I really liked this shape. I think my dreaming mind exaggerated it.

Also, while watching YouTube, I came across the video below, for the song called "Baby Cruising Love," by the Japanese pop group Perfume:

You can see in how in the video the girls are wearing really soft, cream-white fabrics.

Also, yesterday I watched a video on the FashionTVHot channel on YouTube showing clips from the Salon de la Lingerie in Paris. There is a girl at 1:29 in this video who looks like an adult version of the younger girl I imagined would come "sweep me off my feet" in my dream.

The clothing the young girl is wearing in the dream definitely comes from the color of this BCBG dress, also shown on Dust Jacket Attic.

But I think the "tie-dyed" pattern definitely comes from some of the patchy patterning in the lingerie in the video above.

There were some more difficult aspects about the imagery in the dream. The first was the "shoes," which were like big, satiny bows. This image, actually, comes from the movie Maid's Secret, which I watched a couple nights ago.

The "maid" in the movie is actually a cosplay maid who works in a "Maid Cafe" in Akihabara. A part of the maid costume is a big bow or ribbon, displayed on the chest. The maid's loss of, and then search for, the ribbon basically leads to a pretty awful rape scene. During the rape scene, the maid's panties get shoved down one of her legs, almost down to the maid's foot.

I think my mind took the bow, as a symbol of submissiveness, and relocated it from my chest to my feet, where the maid's panties were as she'd been raped. I'm obviously wearing a weird transvestite costume. It looks like a man's tuxedo. But my feet, my shoes, are showing the feminine/submissive side I am trying to display by being a transvestite.

Carl Jung says that shoes can be seen (not all the time, but sometimes) as a symbol for socialization. Our feet are where we connect with the world. And our shoes are like the social aspect we employ in ourselves to protect ourselves from the full forces of nature and the world. So even though my "transvestite" costume in the dream looks like a tuxedo, where I'm finally connecting with the world, I'm a submissive maid.

But why the tuxedo in the dream? Well, last night I finished reading Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express. Two plot elements (I don't think I'll spoil anything for anybody) are a red kimono and a railway conductor's outfit.

It's eventually understood that the railway conductor's outfit had probably been worn by a woman. So the woman had been dressed up as a man. She'd been a transvestite, in other words.

The kimono is an elegant piece of clothing, much like the tuxedo. So I think I condensed the image in my mind of a kimono and a railway conductor's outfit to make a tuxedo. So, when I look at myself in the mirror, I'm seeing, apparently, myself, as a woman, dressing in drag, so that I look like a man. But my feet show that I really am a woman. And, underneath my tuxedo, I'm still wearing a dress.

But I think the reason I ran with the image of the female transvestite from Orient Express is that it kind of counters the anxiety I had from watching the rape scene in Maid's Secret. I think I liked the idea in Orient Express of some woman dressing up as a man and killing a man who had caused her so much grief in the past. It seemed like the woman needed to take up some sort of masculine aspect in order to get control of the situation.

So I think I, in need of some control as well, allowed the transvestite part of myself to "dress in drag" and look like a man, so that I could get some control over a situation. But I'm not sure. That analysis seems a little shaky. I might be reading a little too much into stuff.

I don't want to get too much into my other dreams, now that I've spent so much time on this dream. For the third dream, I'd say that the "gash" the man receives also comes from Orient Express, where the man murdered has been gashed twelve times.

But the gash being on the nose makes me think of the expression "nose out of joint." That means, of course, that someone's been offended. Usually it means someone's been offended by something they probably shouldn't have been offended so easily by. The fact that the man is overworked and exhausted and then he gets his "nose out of joint" is all a statement about me personally.

For the first dream, the spaceflight dream, the only thing I'll say right now is that I had another dream, only a few nights ago, where my spaceflight had been delayed. That dream also started with me flying around in a space capsule, then landing. And in that dream I was, again, delayed by a man who was something like a supervisor to me, and who said I wasn't ready for a spaceflight yet.

I'm not sure what the meaning is to all that. But it's interesting that the themes repeated themselves so plainly.

secret satanic submission

Good morning, everybody.

This blog post is related to this entry in my dream journal blog.

The easiest image for me to recognize from my dreams last night was the image of the men attacking me.

Last night I watched a Japanese pink film called Maid's Secret. The film is about two women who vie for the affections of one man. They each try to become the woman they think the man really wants. One of the woman becomes submissive, a maid working in a maid cafe in Akihabara. The other becomes dominant, working as a punishing mistress.

When it becomes apparent that the man likes the maid better than he likes the mistress, the mistress gets two of her submissive men to rape the maid. The rape scene is pretty long and drawn out and basically spoils the movie for me.

Two nights ago I watched a Japanese pink film called Rafureshia. This film is also about two women. One woman is a young woman involved with an overly protective, but incestuous, relationship with her father. The other woman is married to a completely disinterested man. The man's mother also has sexual feelings for the man.

In a scene that appears to be a suicide scene, the young woman jumps off the balcony of her father's mansion and into the sea. She ends up swimming to the shore of a town, where she meets three transient men. The transient men immediately take her to their little hovel and have sex with her.

This scene isn't much of a rape scene, since the girl, as she first meets the men, shows her sexual readiness by lifting up her skirt and showing the men her panties. She doesn't fight the men. And she actually thinks of the men as her friends. But the men come after the young woman with the same kind of intensity as the men raping the maid in Maid's Secret.

But last night I also started reading Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot mystery Murder on the Orient Express. In the book the detective Hercule Poirot is called back suddenly to London to work on finishing a case. He books an emergency ride on the first departing train. He expects the train will be empty. But he is surprised to find that the train is so full he can only get a sleeper room by sharing it with another person.

So the image from Orient Express translates itself from a train onto a bus in my dream. Instead of being a well-off detective getting onto an elegant train, however, I'm myself, getting onto a bus, and sharing the last seat with a few transient guys, whom I probably identify with more than I'd identify with Poirot.

The men end up attacking me. And I'd assume that this would mean they take away whatever innocence I'm trying to hold onto, like the maid in Maid's Secret, or they take away whatever naivete I've been sheltered by, like the young woman in Rafureshia.

But when the men somehow find out I'm on some kind of "special mission," to deliver a report, they stop attacking me. Or else they find out that they like me and they stop attacking me. I'm not sure which it is.

Reporting is a theme in all these dreams. I just finished reading the John D. MacDonald novel Condominium. The novel is all about the developers and the residents of a shoddily-constructed condominium out in the Florida keys.

The novel is overall really great, with a great cast of characters and a lot of interesting little soap-opera like dramas. The novel also concludes with a lot of very intense action. The intensity of the action is on the scale of some of the climaxes of some of Stephen King's great works.

But one of the final plot lines in the book involves a man assigned to write a report about how poorly built and hurricane-prone the condominiums are out on this particular Florida key. The report is written and distributed to everybody out on the key who will take it. Some people try to hush up the report. But it's already out there. But even though it's already out there, people still don't really pay attention to it.

This, of course, reminds me a lot of the events leading up to the financial crisis we've been through recently. The comparison is too obvious to really go in depth.

I think I, like so many other people nowadays, fantasize about being a person -- somehow -- to write some report full of foresight that can warn people off of some impending crisis. Of course, those reports were already written. The people who had foresight about our financial crisis have already been recognized as such. So it's strange that I would fantasize about being one of those people. The list is already written. I'm not on it.

But I was also surfing around on the net yesterday and picked up two reports. One was put out by the White House and was an outline for strengthening rural communities in the United States. That report was, I believe, put out within the last 48 hours.

The other report was put out by the Office of Basic Energy Sciences within the U.S. Department of Energy in March of this year. That report was basically the 2011 annual progress report for the BES.

So, after shuffling aimlessly through those reports for a few minutes, I think I had internet reports on the brain. Whenever I get internet reports on the brain, I often think of Michael Aquino, the founder of the Temple of Set.

I got to know about Michael Aquino basically through conspiracy videos on YouTube. Aquino is famous in those videos because not only was the Temple of Set formed after Aquino had been involved with the Church of Satan, but because Aquino, serving as Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Army, was also involved in psychological warfare operations.

Michael Aquino is also famous for having been a part of Geraldo Rivera's sensationalist "expose" on Satanism, which is also on YouTube.

I'm not educated enough to have an opinion one way or the other about psychological warfare.

But, with my mother having been a pagan, though not a Satanist, when I was born, I've often found it quite annoying to have people claim that someone is bad just because he has been involved with the Church of Satan.

My family became Christian when I was very young. As I've gotten older I've wondered whether a lot of my own emotional issues might not be related to the fact that I've got a whole religious aspect of myself that I've basically plowed underground -- that more pagan aspect of myself.

It's an overly cerebral approach to psychology, and too based, I think, in half-baked, layman's understanding of Jungian theory rather than real life experience. But I have wondered over the past few years if I'd have better emotional equilibrium in my life if I could just accept some of my deeper spiritual roots.

I found the Temple of Set more interesting than the Church of Satan, just -- for a very shallow reason -- because of its connection to Egyptian spirituality. I've been interested in Egyptian religion ever since I was a child. And about ten years ago I actually transcribed the entire E.A. Wallis Budge version of the Book of the Dead -- even though I managed not really to learn any Ancient Egyptian by having done so.

So Aquino becomes -- only in my mind -- a kind of figure for finding some kind of spiritual equilibrium in my life by accepting the pagan aspect of spirituality that I was born into. And I think this is accentuated by the fact that Aquino's writing is very intellectual and structured, very much based in a wide knowledge of philosophical and social theories, as well as in much deeper concepts and experiences.

Of course, the figure in my dream is a figure embodying some psychological issue of my own. But this psychological figure means something important to the continued development (?) of my psyche.

I want to believe that if I have a report in my hands (a kind of realized mental project) that has something to do with a task assigned to me by this important psychological figure (metaphorized by my understanding of Michael Aquino's public image), then I am protected by the importance of the task. Kind of a Lord of the Rings theme, I guess.

kids protecting kids

Good morning, everybody.

I didn't make an entry in this blog yesterday because I couldn't think of how my dreams related to other things.

I don't think it's uncommon. I think that sometimes when I try to analyze my dreams, my brain blocks out certain connections on purpose -- at least for a while.

Anyhow, I did think of at least two connections to my first dream in yesterday's journal entry.

The first connection is pretty obvious to me. I submitted an an adult baby themed short story on the Smashwords.com self-publishing site about a week ago. I'm waiting for my story to get approved for broader distribution. So I'm having all the normal anxiety with that. 

Thus the image in the dream of the book being disapproved because it had illegal material in it. Not that my little story has anything illegal in it. But I'm always worried that people would find some way to make me feel really, really bad about anything creative I do.

The second connection is the connection to methodone. I read the paper copy of my hometown paper, The Denver Post, every Saturday and Sunday. 

On Sunday (June 10, 2012), the Post had a long article about a center for helping people under the age of eighteen get over their substance abuse problems. The place is called Synergy Adolescent Treatment Services. The article focused on two young men who were really making a lot of progress in getting over their substance abuse issues.

One of the steps the article mentioned for helping the young people get over their addictions was the use of small doses of methodone. This image was, for some reason, very powerful to me. And so it filtered into my dream.

The story of the two young men, who are brothers, stuck with me, I believe, because I felt a lot like them. There is one point in time where one of the young men mentions things that he had to learn just to get on track in life -- things that a lot of other people take for granted: things like budgeting, getting groceries, being on time for work, and finding a safe place to live.

My life has not been as intense as the lives of the two young men. But I do sympathize a lot with what the young man said in this respect. All my life I've thought of so many of the normal things normal people do as "magic." When I try to explain that to people, they have no idea what I mean. Just being able to do a lot of the things that normal adults do to take care of themselves does seem like "magic" to me.

I think that's at least part of the reason I am an adult baby. I fantasize about being re-born and re-raised. I fantasize about somehow not being so dull the second time around that I miss understanding how normal people do normal things.

Now, I think my reading from the Sunday Post also influenced today's dream journal entry. 

My dream starts out in some place that I think of as either a daycare or a school. Eventually I think of it as just a daycare. But this "daycare" has a huge fence around it that reminds me of the huge fences around prisons!

I'm assigned as a caretaker within this prison/daycare. But, given my body height (at least for part of the dream) and the fact that I'm wearing a diaper, it seems like I'm also either a child or an adult baby in this dream. So I'm like a child being sent to protect other children.

Like an idiot, I can't find the article now. But I was reading about how, in Syria, groups of children are setting themselves up as protectors against the military forces that are invading the schools. So these students are children protecting children. They are child caretakers of children. I think I tried to imagine myself in this situation.

One article on msn.com today showed an even worse situation for children in Syria.

This situation is powerful enough, I would think, to give anybody intense dreams. But I think the image of children protecting children stuck with me. Everybody talks nowadays about the Hunger Games series. People always mention how it's about "children killing children" or "kids killing kids."

It struck me that we have plenty of situations, all over the world, where kids are killing kids, where kids are killing adults, or where adults are killing kids. So when people talk about the Hunger Games, they're really only talking about what's actually taking place all over the world right at this moment. 

But it struck me that in this situation, we had kids protecting kids, however they could. 


It's not exactly uplifting, because the forces these kids are trying to protect themselves against are so powerful. But it still gave me hope that, while adults always talk about kids killing kids, kids themselves -- at least somewhere in this world -- are taking the initiative -- for whatever it's worth -- to protect each other.

Of course, part of my idea about being an adult baby is that, with the violence of this world, and seeing violence all over the world, some people, like myself, would tend to shelter themselves from this violence as well as they could by retreating back into a childlike state of mind.

So I think that this whole strange daycare/prison compound of my dream is something like the protective area of my psyche. Inside this protected area are the childhood parts of myself. There aren't any adults allowed. So, even if other adults want me to do them the favor of letting them inside, I can't. I have to be in with the childhood parts of myself, and I have to take care of the childhood parts of myself. 


But, even still, we're all in a pretty scary area.

I think of the person in the wheelchair as being a "wheelchair pretender." I just learned about this fetish recently. But I think it's a lot like the adult baby fetish. In this fetish, a person pretends to be in need of things like wheelchairs, crutches, and so forth. People who play with this fetish sometimes also wear adult diapers.

I think that this fetish, like the adult baby fetish, deals partly -- though not on all levels -- with the idea of being in such a violent world, and being so bombarded with violence, that a need arises to shelter oneself from that violence. 

With adult babies, the sheltering comes from taking on the mindset of a person at the age where one would be (one hopes) cared for and protected from the violence. With wheelchair pretenders, the sheltering seems to come from acting like a person who has already experienced the violence, and is now convalescing from it, and who would need to be sheltered from any additional violence.

The pottying in the dream I think comes from the YouTube video below. 

I like the video. But I have to admit that it scared the crap out of me. Forced bondage isn't my thing. Even though I think I would like to be bound into a crib or playpen sometimes, so I would feel helpless, I wouldn't like it to be in such a scary situation. The Mommy in this video was also quite frightening to me -- she scared the hell out of me, to be quite honest with you.

But the pottying scene stuck with me. The man in the video makes such a big deal out of pottying his diapers -- I could really feel him pottying. And the video is all made like you are seeing from the man's point of view. So that makes the sensations even easier to feel.

I often have dreams of being in a library. A lot of times the library I'm in is the Rose Main Reading Room of the Schwarzman branch of the New York Public Library.

But other times, I'm in a library like a library in an old mansion. This always reminds me of the library room within the Morgan Library. The library in this dream was more like the library room proper of the Morgan Library. But I'm not sure what that means.

skin punk

Good morning, everybody.


This entry is supplemental to this entry in my dream journal blog.

One theme that recurs in my dreams is of organized stalking and targeted individuals. You can look up organized stalking on YouTube. There are plenty of examples of it.


I think, though, that everybody has dreams of being stalked or being targeted. It's the same with me. I think this can relate to one of two things. Either I wish that I was so special that people had to "target" to keep whatever is special about me under wraps. Or else, there is something I don't like about my own personality, my "shadow side," that I try to avoid, but that follows me everywhere.


Also, I think anybody who knows even as little as I do about conspiracy theory knows that organized stalking and targeted individuals are supposed to be part of that plan.


Well, I think the reason the themes of organized stalking were so apparent in my dream last night was because in the book I'm reading right now (even though I didn't read any of it last night), Condominium, by John D. MacDonald, there are a couple of characters intricately caught up in researching conspiracy theories. There are also a couple characters who basically form a militia to protect their condominium against young people.


Whereas a couple of nights before, I had a dream where I was being stalked by young people, in this dream I'm being stalked by one person who might be more around my age and one person who is a bit older than I. This would be a compensation -- one side of my emotions is struggling with the fact that I'm becoming older, while another side of my emotions is struggling with the fact that I still feel like people treat me like I'm young. My dreams show me one side of the argument, then another.


I know, without yet having reached it, that the climax of Condominium. So I imagined a storm brewing over a beach in my dream. I have never been to Florida. So I just imagined some random beach scene from the East Coast -- namely Far Rockaway. I'm not sure why that is. 


Yesterday I went to Downtown Denver. I walked around down there for a little while and then headed into the Denver Museum of Contemporary Art. The museum currently has an exhibition of punk photography running. The photos are by Bruce Conner. The photos basically mainly show the punk scene in San Francisco during the late 1970s. 


One of the photos shows a person looking into the Mabuhay club. At first I thought the person was a man. But the person was a woman. The woman is wearing a jacket commemorating someone's service in Vietnam.


I took the bus Downtown. The bus had to stop for a couple minutes a couple of times because there were people in wheelchairs getting onto and off the bus. Some person behind me kept complaining about the people in wheelchairs. He even called them "p---ies" for being in wheelchairs, which I thought was odd.


So I think I combined these two images into the images of the wheelchair person in my dream. 


The person in the Adidas jacket came from two places. In the morning yesterday I went out to buy a paper. A young man, kind of tall and skinny, seemed to be heading out of my apartment complex at the same time as I, and he seemed to be going in the same place. It was a little strange, and it freaked me out a little.


But, also, a couple days ago, I watched the YouTube video below. This video talks about some designers working with sporting labels to create sporty fashions in preparation for the Olympics. The video mentions that designer Stella McCartney collaborates with Adidas.

Yesterday I also watched the Pedro Almodovar film La Piel Que Habito (The Skin I Live In). The complete film is available on YouTube. But for this entry, I'm just putting a link to the trailer that is on YouTube.

I'm not sure that my first dream had anything to do with the film. But the second dream definitely did. One of the pivotal scenes of the film involves two people having sex at the base of a tree. One of the characters, who is suffering from some major psychological issues, ends up biting the other character's hand to keep him from continuing to have sex with her.


I think my brain condensed ejaculation with the biting of the hand, making ejaculation into spitting. I then took this image and went walking all around town, spitting on the base of every tree.


I think that what this probably meant is that I was walking around town, advertising my sexual availability everywhere I went. But there wasn't anybody else out on the sidewalks. I was all by myself on the sidewalks. Everybody else was in a car. Everybody could still see what I was doing -- or at least I was worried they could. But nobody was close enough for me actually to do  it with them.


My third dream, the lobotomy dream, is also, I think, a reflection to the movie. In the movie, one of the characters gets a sex-change forced upon him. Actually, I believe that La Piel Que Habito, while I'm sure it's known as an update of the classic film Eyes without a Face, is also, in my opinion, one of the best forced-feminization stories of all time.


As I went through puberty, I began to have desires to be a transvestite. At the ages of eleven and twelve I began getting and wearing women's underwear from stores. I always fantasized that I'd be magically transported into a girl's body. But I never wanted to lose my own identity, my memory of myself as who I was as a boy. I thought that if I lost my identity, I'd lose my intelligence (whatever kind of intelligence I have).


I think that that desire not to lose my intelligence was actually related to a fear of castration. Losing my penis would be equivalent with losing my intellect. I don't think that's a fact of life, you know, that penis equals intellect. But it was just a part of my fear of castration.


The woman in my dream didn't look like the re-made woman in the movie. But she stood for the  woman, I'm pretty sure. So a person asking her if she wanted a lobotomy, and her telling the person yes would be the same thing, according to that fear of castration, as agreeing to having a sex change operation.


One last thing I'd like to say about La Piel Que Habito, even though it doesn't have to do with my dreams: one scene uses the Elliott Smith song "Between the Bars" really incredibly. Of course, the version used is a cover version. But the melody is really characteristic of Smith: very melancholy and nostalgic. It creates a perfect mood for that scene, which is kind of like a goodbye-before-death scene.


Here's a fabulous YouTube video with Smith's version:

And here's the Chris Garneau cover, which is used in the Almodovar film:

So, anyway, I was so moved, both by the scene in the film and my love for Smith's song that I spent, oh, god, maybe an hour or so singing that song, over and over again.


Dear god, when I think about some of the silly things I do sometimes...

elite gymnastics special effects

Good morning, everybody.

This post is related to stuff from this entry in my dream journal, "maboroshi no yume."

I watched some YouTube in the afternoon. I saw the video below, which was posted by NylonTV, and features the musician and visual artist Grimes.

I'd never heard of Grimes before. But I liked her personality a lot.  In the interview, Grimes seemed to be sitting in some backyard area that totally reminded me of a small backyard or outdoor dining area in Brooklyn.

Like with the video I saw of Riley Kilo, I became nostalgic for New York all over again.

Right now I'm back in my hometown of Denver, Colorado. And I think I really wanted to get back to New York last night. So I "walked there." Ft. Greene (not where I lived, but where I spent a lot of time) was just right down the street from me!

But why the *heck* was I walking on my hands?

Maybe my life just feels upside-down right now. Not maybe. It does.

Also, in the Grimes video, Grimes mentions a band she likes, Elite Gymnastics. I thought that was an awesome name. But it made me think of little kids who always try to impress people by doing "gymnastics": things like handstands and  what not.

And in this YouTube video, which shows the making of a video called "One Room Disco," by a j-pop group called Perfume, you'll notice one of the band members in a stage-room which is turned sideways. The woman pretends to be doing pushups on the floor while her feet are up on the wall. Really, the wall is the floor and the floor is the wall. But when the filming is turned sideways, it looks like the girl is doing some really tough push-ups.

I think something set itself in my mind, connecting special-effects push-ups with Elite Gymnastics handstands, and got me creating some magical way of tranferring myself back to Brooklyn.

Just a couple really short ideas about the second dream. The atmosphere also reminds me of Ft. Greene. It seemed to be very much like the black building on the corner of Ft. Greene and Fulton, the one with the Applebees. While I was in New York, stores were always coming into and going out of that place -- all except Applebees, which is, like, eternal.

The water park idea is based on the fact that I just wrote a short story, which I am selling on Smashwords.com. The story, which is called Water Wings, is about a group of adult baby girls who go to a water park. Straightforward enough. I'm currently thinking out my follow-up story to this one. So I think I had water parks on the brain last night.


***


Ugh... it's the day after I wrote this post.


But I have to make an update, because I was such an idiot that I forgot what was really the strongest influence of me running down the street in a handstand.


If you watch the second half of this video, featuring the awesome performer Raquel Reed, you'll see that Reed is wearing a corset that looks like a motorcycle.

So, obviously!, my dream imagined what it would be like to be a person/motorcycle, like I guess some part of my psyche must have thought Raquel Reed was.

condominiums, new york city, and riley kilo

Hi Everybody!

This blog is going to be supplemental to my dream blog, "maboroshi no yume," which is at the link below.

maboroshi no yume

Both blogs are rather personal. I'd guess that the "maboroshi no yume" blog is more personal than this blog. Like I said, "maboroshi no yume" is a journal of my dreams. This blog will be like an analysis of my deams.

But I am going to try to give "my life's (a) dream" a broader scope, so that there will be more content of general interest and relevance. I find that my dreams are based on what I read in books, what I see online, what I hear in the news, and what I experience in the outside world. So I think this blog is an attempt to connect the very personal landscape of my dreams with the more conventionally social world of waking life.

But, also, a warning for anybody who is not into fetish: I am an adult baby, at least part-time. And I am interested in other fetishes, even though I may not partake in them. So there will be a lot of discussion, most likely, of sexuality, fetish, and especially of paraphilic infantilism, or of being an adult baby.

So, then...

Today's post will be supplemental to this dream journal entry.

The first impression I got from my first dream in this post was that it was partly inspired by my reading in the John D. MacDonald novel Condominium. This novel, written in 1977, is about a poorly built Condominium, the people who poorly run it, and the people who live in it and are fighting to make it a better place to live.

The novel has a lot to offer current readers, I believe: it shows the housing market on the brink of colapse, and the effects of a poorly managed housing market on regular American citizens.

Here is a link to the Amazon.com page for Condominium.

I think the plot element that stuck in my dreams is of these young people hanging around the condominium, kind of threatening the older people who live in the building.

I had another dream a few nights ago about young people hanging around on what I thought of as "Kurt Cobain's estate," a kind of huge mansion with Buddhist, and, eventually, apocalyptic Chritstian sculpture all over the place.

I'm 34 years old. And I think I'm looking back to having been a young person. I wish those days of youth could come back for me. And so I think I'm having these dreams full of young people.

The apartment complexes are very much like the tall housing projects on the East side of Manhattan. There actually is a highway overpass that runs alongside some of them, kind of shadowing the road that passes alongside the projects.

I think the reason for my having thought of these apartment complexes was that I'd watched a video on YouTube last night by an adult baby named Riley Kilo. I was surprised to hear that Riley had left New York City at about the same time as I had, in the middle of January of this year. It made me nostalgic to for New York. So I think my dream set me in New York, to make me feel like I was "back home" (even though, really, I'm back home right now).

I've recently started wearing diapers to bed as well. And I think the fact that I wear diapers to bed gave me the image of walking around town in only diapers.

Those are the main images that I think relate my dream to my waking life experiences. Have a good day, and I hope to be back here very soon for you!