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Blogs by Jack Daley
Dream Journal 12/9/2005 4:35:03 PM
A few more pages from my Dream Journal It's a week later, "I'm in a middle school multi-purpose room. Half of the students are standing on a large wooden stage. The other half is sitting in the audience. Our principle, Mr. Limpkey, is leading us in a spirit building activity. With one part of myself, I'm conscious as a teacher. But, most of the time, I feel the events as an eight-grader.
The principal raises his right arm and holds it in the air. We all follow in perfect unison. He calls me to his side, and explains that he is going to demonstrate the correct way to dress. "The first rule is to button your shirt all the way to the top," he says and fastens my third button down. When he's at that button, I'm looking out as teacher. By the time he reaches the second button, I'm a student. As his hands fumble on the top button, I see that I'm wearing my long sleeved red plaid cotton shirt. The collar fits kind of tight and he can't get it buttoned.
"Here, let me get it," a beautiful eight-grade girl, Matia, tells the principal.
"She can do it. Her fingers are smaller," I say as she fastens the button. The girl is one of the most popular in the whole school, and I feel very self-conscious standing next to her. The principal ushers me a couple steps forward, and extends his arm to point me out. I feel like a complete nerd. But, in the next moment, I'm a teacher again. Mr. Limpkey is pointing out at the audience. "You see how well behaved they are?" he asks. I look out and see rows of boys and girls dressed in cheerleader garb, and football uniforms. They're jumping over the seats and acting rowdy. I shake my head and look again. Everyone is dressed is shirts and ties and sitting with rapt attention.
Music begins to play, and Matia and I are dancing. I get really into the up beat tempo as I discover that the girl is an excellent dancer. I get really into the swing of the music and the feel of our swaying bodies. We circle out towards the back of the stage, and I almost bump us into a table. I have to break my step and we lose the rhythm for a minute. This happens a couple more times as we whirl around the floor, and I'm hoping Marian won't think I'm too uncoordinated.
A really fast jazz piece comes on and most of the students stop dancing. I hold Matia in my arms as we pick up the beat. I'm thinking I can show off some moves right now, and give Matia a twirl. She begins spinning faster and faster, and leaps off of the floor onto a platform about twelve feet above the stage. I'm thinking she was embarrassed to dance with such a nerd and that's how she planned her escape.
I'm walking along the back edge of the stage arm and arm with Matia. "I've really been working on my Objective Consciousness," I tell her.
"You're into levels of consciousness?" she asks with an excited tone of voice.
"I'll make a really good impression on her now," I tell myself and ask who she has read on the subject.
August 8,2000
Vance and I are walking out of a theater somewhere in San Francisco with two girls who we picked up inside. It's only midnight, but the streets are near empty. The girl I like leads us out of the theater district, and through an empty storefront. We follow her around back to an intimate jazz club. The small wooden bandstand is vacant. The room is divided into two sections by a four-foot high partition. The larger side is filled to it's twenty seat capacity with San Francisco jazzed up blacks. There's a big black bartender behind the bar. He takes our order for drinks and yells for one of the seated patrons to quiet down. As we sit down at a small table in the six-seat section at the front door, I’m thinking how hip the girl is to know a place like this.
We sip out drinks waiting for the musicians to return. I can hear one of the black customers at the ten stools bar complaining about having white dudes in the place. The bartender says he allows only a limited number in. "That way we won't see no trouble,” he explains. Before we can finish our drinks, Vance says that he knows where we can pick up a car and rushes us out of the place.
We walk a couple blocks to an empty street where we find a small vehicle resting on its roof. "We can tip it back on its wheels and salvage it. You know, salvage laws apply on both sea and land. You save the ship, and the booty is yours," Vance tells us. We rock it back and forth and knock it on its side. Just then the owner of the vehicle a bad looking dude in a black T-shirt comes and asks us what we're doing with his car. Vance says he thought it had been abandoned and that we were going to salvage it. The owner explains that he leaves it on its roof so no one will steal it. He tells us he's going to jump it off a ramp, tips it back on its wheels, and drives to the ramp which is just up a side alley.
Now, we are stuck in San Francisco without a ride. We stand in front of the empty shops wondering what to do. I tell the girls that they can wait here with Vance. "I'll hitch hike home, get my car, and come back for you," I say. They agree and I take off down the empty streets hoping to walk to a more traveled area.
August 9, 2000
I'm in a large old house somewhere in San Lorenzo. The woman who owns it is showing me through. It seems that I've bought the house and just have to finalize the deal. I eye up the high ceilings and big wide rooms and think how well built the place is. I walk down one long hallway to the very back and find that it ends at a house behind us. I think it's a little odd that our two houses are connected and return to the front room where the old lady is cleaning up a cat mess. There are boxes and other things scattered around. I'm thinking, It's a nice old house, but it needs a lot'a work.
I'm on a city street with Alex looking for my car. We walk a few feet up one block, and it's not there. "I know I parked it right on the corner," I tell Alex. For a second or so I'm thinking this must be a dream or something. But, then, I see it around the corner. We climb inside and take off to look at my new house.
"I use to live in San Lorenzo. Wasn't my house right up the street?" Alex asks when we park in front.
"No, you lived on the other end of town. We're right near First Street."
As I'm showing Alex around the kitchen I find a large bag filled with rolls of wallpaper. I examine a couple rolls and think how nice the kitchen would look if I papered it. I open a cardboard box and find that it contains a tile cutter. In other boxes I find tiles. I’m thinking there's sure a lot of work around the place and maybe I'm better off staying in my old house.
Alex and I are at the end of the hallway looking through the paned glass partition that connects it to the house in back. "When this building was built it had one owner. The hallway was an open connection between the two houses,” Alex tells me. Somehow, I really like the long hallway and wonder why it went to the other house and not to ours.
Back in the front room, the woman tells me she's sorry she has to leave a few more cat messes for me to clean up. A real estate agent is telling Alex that the sale has not been finalized. "Someone can still step in and make a better offer."
Alex and I are driving towards First Street. I turn left and cross the street on an exit that leads under ground to the ocean. I'm really anxious to get a view of the water. I'm thinking I can take my morning walks along the water's edge. We ride through a large dark underground garage with no exits in sight. I realize that there is no access to shore line from this dark under ground parking lot.
8-26-00
I'm walking inside a hallway with Sean and Mazzie. We're hurrying outside so I can drive them to the pub. A beautiful blonde headed girl is standing near the doorway. She gives me a smashing smile and asks if I would do her a favor. I see that there is something wrong with her lower limbs. She has to lean against the wall to keep from falling. "I wonder if you could take me to get some sleeping pills. It's very difficult to get that kind of thing when you are in a foreign country," she says and gives another smile.
"Wow, she seems to really like me," I'm telling myself. "Sure, I can..." I say and take her arm to help her out the door. When she moves from the wall, she falls to the floor. I try to lift her by her arms and drag her across the floor scraping her knees really bad. I can see that she in a lot of pain, but she accepts my attempts to help with a thankful smile. She falls several times, and each time I try to help, I make matters worse. I begin to wonder if she wants the pills to end her pain and suffering. I'm thinking maybe I'd better not get them.
Sean and Mazzie are anxiously waiting. I tell the girl I'll take them first and then come back for her thinking that this way we can spend a little time alone.
I wake up for a moment, and realize that it's not that the girl is sexually attracted to me, but that she needs help.
When I go back to sleep, Anne is standing by the telephone. "That's Glenda again. She's called several times. Each time she calls she's crying. What's going on?" Anne asks.
I tell myself I'd better let Anne know that she wants me to get her some sleeping pills.
She's gonna say don't do it. It's too big a risk, myself answers.
