M and I are in a warehouse(/department store?) when there's a blackout power outage. Suddenly my friend "Joy" with blue hair runs in all ecstatic, screaming my name, appearing and disappearing in the shadows. We follow her outside (it's nighttime and the city is post-rain glistening), and she paces around (she's manic--possibly on drugs), telling me about her dream, which she says distinctly mapped out this complexly choreographed 80's music video dance, which she begins to perform before us. M is upset and annoyed and begins to talk shit about the dance, but I cut him off and tell him to walk around the block and leave us for a bit. Pissed off, he leaves. Then Joy begins to teach me (and our friends, who suddenly appear) the dance. The tone is funny, light, and sort of drunken-feeling. Other friends of ours walk by, laughing and pointing--did they think this was silly? This was not silly--this was important. This was real art. Downloaded from a dream.


I was driving home from work. It was so real. The darkest of nights--pitch black--I'm in the car driving but there's no sense of the outside world; I feel almost completely blind. I cannot for the life of me turn on the headlights.
Something feels off, like I am not in the "real world" I know.
I still can't turn on the lights, though I manage to turn on the inside light, which is very dim and just makes me visible to the entities I know are lurking and shuffling outside--male, scruffy, dirty...
I try to lock the doors but I don't trust that anything in the car is working, so I turn off the inside lights and try to drive away.
I know I should be home by now so I get the idea to call M from my cell phone and pull over--even if I don't know where I am we could surely figure it out with recent technology. I end up pulling over to the left of a road, I think, and try to call m but the screen isn't working. Everything is pitch black. I start to get really scared now--I look at the phone and it's not my phone--it's small and black with a tiny button (it looks more like M's phone than mine but different---almost like a toy--not "real")--so I decide to exit the car and realize I've literally parked on a 90 degree incline (facing up)! And I'm almost at the top of the edge but not quite (where I see possible street signs), so I move to enter back into the car to try to get it up to the top, but the car rolls down the incline (I feel in a sense like I'm inside the car while it's happening though I'm also outside), and it disappears into the abyss.
I'm still outside on the sidewalk and there's no where for me to turn but down, so I turn around and try to walk down the incline but I just fall---in seconds a sidewalk appears before me and I fall into/onto it.
I stand up now and it's nearly twilight and overcast and I'm carless, and I think about a block away from where I parked (I sense) but still I am in this not real world. I am full of fear and so so tired and I start crying--I have this overwhelming feeling that I could be stuck in this world for a really, really long time. I walk around a large gated yard/field past a family (a mom, dad, and young daughter) whom I recognize in a moment of deja vu--I think, I've been here before, performing this exact act? I make my way around the corner past them in the direction of the next block where I believe the incline is, determined to find my car, scared at how tired and lost I am, but knowing that I can't give up.


The whole thing was cinematic. These siblings were made to cut flaps of skin away at the dinner table and leak hot oily fat onto the plates of all their food including their parents food on the dinner table as this ridiculous exercise of power and self will and obedience and there was all this chamber music playing... I was watching the thumping veins in this boy's neck right before I woke up. It was like they were brainwashed and it was an act of courage and graciousness or something. It was disgusting.


M and I lived in this big house with a huge glass wall that looked out into the woods/lawn. It began as daytime. We had a dog and also cats and there was a small hole in the middle/bottom of the glass that the animals could shrink down and burrow through and emerge outside into the lawn to play. Then nighttime it begins to get chilly and I want to stop the cool breeze from the hole and also the animals are escaping without us wanting them to be outside and also bugs are getting in so I try putting one of M's paintings over it but from the outside there is this huge gap. Now also I'm scared because I see people walking by looking in--first a mother and her daughter come right up to the glass and are peering in cautiously and then a thin black woman dressed very artsy in a lot of colors with a very serious solemn fearful expression. M seems to be unaware of them and then he so beautifully suggests that we try to gather the broken pieces of shattered bits of glass and put them back together into a beautiful mosaic to go back in the hole. But we both know the pieces are too small and sharp to fit back together again.



I'm driving on the highway home in LA. It's early evening, dimming light. The car runs out of gas (M forgot to fill it, though I feel guilty about not filling it myself and putting it on him). I ask people who all seem to have stopped their vehicles, and are now hanging out outside, picnicking, drinking beer, and then people decline, and then I'm exploring this nearby building going in and out and around and back in again, and there's a receptionist at a desk in the lobby and I think it's perhaps an apartment building? It's all white and very airy and then I'm outside again and it's windy and I'm asking this family if they have any gas, and the dad says he thinks he has some but will have to go home to get it and I'm like no no and at that same moment I feel an extreme head-cold coming on, my nose starts running and mucus fills my throats and my head becomes foggy and voice super horse, and the dad reappears instantly with this little can with a nozzle, which I drop into a puddle but pick back up and fill up the car and say thanks and drive home and then find out I'd filled the car up wrong (there was a plastic bag inside the gas canister, which I'd filled up instead of the tank), and that I'd had enough gas to get home all along! I think my friend Mikey from San Francisco is there and tells me this, though I'm not exactly sure who it was......


I was living in my old apartment in San Francisco. It was pitch black outside--in the darkest hour of the middle of the night. I had a mumbling older man inside my house, dark-skinned, who was possibly on drugs--out of his mind. I may have hired him to do some kind of job, though I don't remember. I think I paid him, and then I walked him to the door and locked it. I went about my business, and then thought, if I unlock the door, will the man still be right there? I had a terrible, ominous feeling. So I unlocked the bolt and it immediately started to open--I freaked out! I bolted the lock. I ran to my room and closed the sliding door, and I tried calling 9/11. I recall it being very hard to see. The phone didn't seem to be working. I slid down to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, trying to get the phone to work...


Jesse and I were being driven in the backseat of a vehicle. We were holding hands. His family and/close friends were up front; they were asking us about our relationship, and I put it very point blankly: we have a 21 year difference; we love each other but are not in love, not in the way two people are who have the capacity to be together; we do not. We were both smiling, both so happy. We got dropped off in the woodsy area of his home, a tree-house sort of place that he once occupied in another dream of mine, and went to separate bedrooms. It was daytime then, but then night fell, though it was a lit up sort of night--never did I feel the darkness of my subconscious present in many other dreams. His nephew was there and kept coming into my dark room to play , and soon we were rolling around and shrieking joyfully and making a fort beneath the bed--and Jesse came in--we had woken him up. I desperately wanted to leave the room and join him in his room, If just to spoon him and feel his strong, vivacious body (almost like another part of myself--not exactly sexual but not not sexual), but then thought of M. I half woke up and realized the dream, and heard what M told me a while ago--to venture into any situation in a dream, that it was OK to explore in that way, in a dream, and I smiled and my heart fluttered, though I couldn't fully bring myself back to it--it still somehow felt wrong, though still so much love for Jesse and his love back to me flowed and flowed, well after awakening; it felt like pure goodness, pure reckoning, pure admiration and intensity and awe.


It was extremely dark at night--submerged in the unconscious--and I was watching the narrative of this father on a ship (perhaps in the 1800s?) who was in the process of letting his child go, violently--I recall knowing of this tale where, if two criminals got married and then copulated, they would have to later give up or kill their child...something like that. Anyway, this man violently forced his young daughter from his lap and she got caught in the ropes of the ship dangling and screaming for her dad, but he kept brutally kicking her down so that she would fall....it was very violent...and then I became the second, older child--we survived, somehow--and I found my sister at a woman's house who had two kids of her own. She didn't know who this child--my sister--was, but had taken her in. I entered the house just minutes before our father--myself now a young man--trying to alert this woman how bad of a guy my dad is--that he's basically here to kill us--and I successfully tell her in the bathroom with the faucet running to mask our voices; however, we left him in the living room with the woman's children, whom he makes write dirty messages on paper...I feel a terror approaching of what's about to happen, and so I get this woman and her kids into the car as she's calling the cops, while my sister, having turned into a 16 year old boy, is left in the house with our father who has turned on the shower and has cut up a plastic toy into hundreds of sharp shards and is cutting off my brother's tips of his toes, and I'm running screaming through the pouring rain into the highway and no cars are stopping, they're just rushing all around me, and my dad is bent over me now and pushing me into traffic and beating me and I know that this is the end for me--nobody's going to stop, nobody's going to save me.


There were two Hispanic families--one with a domineering, psychopathic father who kept an ancient wooden mail-sorter in his basement, in which he stored real live miniature children the sizes of Barbie dolls, and also their miniature horses, locked up without room to grow physically or mentally, for his psychopathic pleasure. I was someone in his family, and we had gone to stay with the other family because we feared him, though I thought he still might come to kill us. Mostly it was in the pitch-black of night. At one point, I was in one of the sister's bedrooms and she was masturbating beneath this translucent unicorn suit that was leaking a florescent blue fluid out of its mouth. The others were preparing how to falsely hang themselves, which proved to be one manner of defense against the psychopath. At one point, possibly in a different narrative, but in the same town, I befriended my old neighbor's sister, I think in an attempt to try and see my neighbor again (we had had a romance in the past). I commented to her, "all the people in this town have enormous mantles!" But the mantles were outside on the lawn decorated with ornaments and children's drawings...

Adam gave in and kissed me by the pool, and very softly touched my clitoris. I knew he loved me back. But, when I went to find him in the crowded pool, he turned away from me and disappeared in the mass of people. I knew then that we had no future. I had projected all of it.


I occupied two apartments; I lived with M.A. down the street, and I lived with Jenni here.

Jenni and I had been on a date with a much, much older man. I felt her innocence in leading him on. I knew what he would propose later. We strolled around the city. I had a flask of tequila, which the old man drank most of. I rolled out my black convertible. He was haughty, demanding. I drove us back to a bedroom. I took off my pants and started to kiss him, but as soon as I put my hands around his sagging body, I pushed myself back. 'I can't do this,' I said, putting on my pants. Jenni stared at him blankly. I knew she wouldn't. He made a small scene, mumbling to himself and hitting a wall before leaving, then walked back and stuck his head in to tell us, with a grin, that it was okay. I knew it wasn't okay. I bolted the door. I told Jenni to grab her things and we bolted; I felt him on his way back to the room, enraged. We ran out the other door into a huge office-casino; colorful patterned carpeting spanned across a room of office cubicles and bright lights. I ran from desk to desk, ducking under them, hoping Jenni was doing the same. I watched policemen looking for two perpetrators. Were they looking for us? Was there some huge misunderstanding? Did we do something wrong?

Meanwhile, back at Jenni's and my apartment, M.A. and I stood outside. I noticed the broken door windows, the glass inside. We entered cautiously, M.A. behind me. Jenni's orange cat lay chopped up in pieces. Also other things looked off. I walked into the dining room, where the two male perpetrators were laying on the floor, writhing, paralyzed. But still they had force; they were dangerous. I jumped on one, straddling him, shouting at M.A. to do the same with the other; for some reason he wasn't fighting them. I held the one down with such force. I was furious. I pushed my whole body against him. I kept shouting for M.A. to hold the other one down. I became enthralled with the being I touched; it was if I was merging with him, black and charred. It was no longer male, nor female. I became incredibly sexually aroused. I knew who this being was. I told it to finger me. I knew M.A. was far, far off. I was becoming someone else. 

I, now male, waved to the perpetrators, mine now female (the other I wasn't aware of), as they walked to their black vehicle. I walked towards M.A., who was waiting by our car, but then turned around. I whispered in my perpetrator's ear, 'Next time you want me perhaps don't break in and kill a cat; call me or something.' I then winked. It was supposed to be funny. The male part of me was flirting with this demon, making my dangerous desire apparent. She smiled and laughed giddily. She had stringy hair and dark red lipstick, a red silk blouse. 


He was extremely flamboyant but also exceedingly masculine. In history he was known as the first Transgender, although he wasn't transgendered, and I recall his word for it starting with an F. He had tattooed my aunt's arm with a large ocean wave and some sandy landscape, which I'd seen on Instagram and loved, and so I went to see him. We experienced an immediate connection. Even before mentioning my aunt, we talked and laughed and talked. We locked eyes. He commented on how he needed someone as sincere as me in his life. He stared a second too long. I knew that he saw me, all of me. He wrote down his information with a sparkly purple pen. Micah was his name, although later I learned that others called him Froggy. 

I arrived at the large building where I would be dressed in a cardboard suit akin to a Star Wars cast member and ingest a hallucinogenic medicine. I was lead to a single renovated dorm room stocked with my costume. Some girl in the hallway was having a relationship crisis. Later, in the auditorium, about fifty of us sat on individual yoga mats that faced the front of the room. The people leading the ceremony handed out the hallucinogenic contents, which was a slab of putty that we were told to rub all over our mouths. I was frightened, having not taken entheogens without my partner present in a very long time. I decided to wait and just meditate, and when I opened my eyes I looked around and spotted one girl bent over with the putty hanging off of her mouth. I also spotted Micah, or some uncanny double version of Micah in the very back of the room. Was he supposed to be here? Did I know he was part of this group/study? I decided to take the medicine. I rubbed it all over my mouth and almost instantly the altered state came on. I removed the putty and placed it by my feet. I became high and giggly, I laid back and rolled into a 'happy baby' yoga position. I rolled onto the mat of my neighbor who was obviously pissed. I couldn't think straight. It was so very strong. I recall noting that this medicine didn't allow true processing if all it allowed me to do was roll around on the ground laughing and drooling.

I longed for the rich, honest, deep love of Micah.  


He texted me to come over. My mother wouldn't let me drive her car, even though I knew she wouldn't use it. I screamed and screamed. A group text responded. He was about to give a lecture. I made it to the classroom and waited. I couldn't pay attention, even as he walked into the room. My head kept rolling around. He my have asked me a question, but I couldn't focus enough to answer it. The whole room was blurry. People kept walking in and out of the room. At some point later we were all gathered around a long rectangular dinner table. I was sitting next to his partner. She was glowing and full of empathy. I said to her that I've been wanting to tell her that her presence in his life changed him for the better; she'd brought him happiness. She smiled and thanked me; she knew this to be true. She then asked if she could quote my words to him sometime. I found that odd. 


A doctor stared at me from above.

"We can not locate your parasympathetic nervous system," he said. 


M and I were housing guests we had just met. They were foreigners--French, possibly? A couple, perhaps a little older than us, both attractive, but not too attractive. They were in bed in a room adjacent to our room. M and I were reading. I believe I was naked, but kept trying to cover myself up with a blanket. All of a sudden I felt extreme sexual energy and a feeling as if I was telepathically receiving an energetic communication of bodies from the other room, specifically the man. A thought rushed through me--that I wanted us all to fuck, but beautifully fuck, together. It was not a desire for another, but for a communal collaboration of bodies, energies, sexuality, light. As soon as I had this thought the man was in our bed. He laid on his stomach between us, either naked or partially naked. I knew I had called him in with my mind. This was a man that had a lot going on spiritually, invisible beneath the skin. We were speaking to each other silently, still. My heart was racing. M was not as comfortable with the idea, but he didn't verbally say this--he was open to it. I'm not sure what exactly took place after that, besides the knowledge that the act never fully came into fruition. At some point M was behind me and I felt pain. A video camera crew came in and I wanted to change my undergarments into more flattering ones. Perhaps we were now in a Western bar, and there was lots of commotion, masculinity and also, maybe, blood. 


Michaelangelo and I moved into a shared apartment on the ground level of what appeared to be a strip mall, or some shady public place. The entrance to the apartment consisted of an enormous garage-door-like gate and also a glass pull-down structure that blocked out sound, but still gave visible access into the apartment. We shared this apartment with many others. I was sitting on the couch holding a dildo in my hand, but held it close to my body, attempting to shield it away from the public walking in. An angry, horrendous man in a suit sat in a chair in front of me. He lunged at me. Everyone knew what I was about to do. There was no privacy. Another man beside him, who resembled my uncle, was aware of this man's, his friend's, dangerous composition, but still gave me a condemning look. It all felt like a hallucinating punishment. I could not shut the public out.

I caught up to Michaelangelo in a group of strangers walking away from the apartment in a foreign city. Where was he going without inviting me, without letting me know? It was possible I had been sleeping. He wanted nothing to do with me. 


It was very political. Brigid had discovered her "friend's" dirty history and hidden cult secret, and he followed us on our way out of the city, trying to escape. We were with a bunch of others, and I hadn't heard the whole story--I had little idea of the danger we were in. The night surrounding us was a terrifying black. Fear was everywhere. Brigid and I ran from the vehicle and were immediately intercepted by the bad cult man, Brian, who quickly stole something extraordinarily intimate from Brigid (her memory perhaps?), and also shot me in the leg. I didn't realize I had been shot until I was sitting on the sidewalk, surrounded by our initial group, with Brigid next to me, shocked and frightened, telling me I had missed the most important part of the story, which I kept asking her to tell me, but she couldn't because Brian was right behind us, listening in. The police were all in on it, too. It took the officer a very long time to get us help. Later, I watched the EMT slide the bullet out of my leg from outside of my pants. There had been so much more to the story--so much more I should have known...


The rattlesnake turned into a deadly jumping lizard and Christine ran back into the car, shrieking. P showed up to my restaurant and I quickly let down my hair, then descended into the house and slept as a deep sense of amnesia came over me--was I supposed to be working? Did I even work at all? My body was so heavy and tired. I grasped P's knuckles and reassured him he was good. The man held us at gunpoint--me and another woman. The knife hadn't been a sufficient fear tactic. He laughed at me as if my terror was unnecessary--of course he wouldn't shoot if we did everything he said. The barrel of the gun was dark and hollow, an endless rabbit's hole pointed directly at my face. 

A five second commercial for Stephen Beachy's "living jelly." It was blue-green and gak-like, wiggling to an audial background of found recorded sound footage. 


We were lead up an elevator to an all-white room, he and I, by a young boy with a shaved head and wearing all white. I sat in a tall, plush, white cushiony lazy boy in the middle of the room, and the boy sat on my lap. "He" was standing nearby. The boy switched on the large screen before us with a remote control. The screen projected a scenario of the three of us--I recognized the boy immediately, but much older, perhaps fifteen years into the future. There was a very vital reason why he was showing this to us, I knew deep inside my body; an immeasurable importance of our grand story flowed rapidly through my veins. 

In another dream, Chris Kraus at a fancy dinner party introduced me to a French-African man with a bizarre accent and a name spelled with symbols; she thought I might find his work intellectually interesting. The man was large and puffy-cheeked and filled with immense joy--he lead me down a rolling grassy hill in a now sunny part of a different country and I watched as he picked up discarded cans and trash and talk about how he used these found materials as a means to build homes based off the ancient structures of domiciles in these foreign lands. Using waste to fashion new historical imprints--it was true, I found him a fascinating person. Chris Kraus kept ordering shots of extremely expensive tequila. Everyone else at the dinner party annoyed me. 


I took the train to Adam's apartment, about twenty or thirty minutes outside of Pittsburgh. I rushed in, hearing voices in the other room, and entered a bedroom. The voices got louder and I plummeted to the floor, pretending to be asleep. 

"Rachel, Rachel?" he called, and I stood up, brushing myself off. I had to pee, I said, so I barged in without knocking. I was embarrassed, and I was sorry. (But had I peed? What exactly was I doing?)

He showed me his music room which looked like an office with bad carpeting and five different golden and white Fender guitars. He told me that the five amps were hidden, and looked proud of himself. We then talked about how my life in LA and writing was going. I told him how he looked so much lighter now, so much more free (and he did, incredibly so, like a different person), probably because he was in love. 

I rushed down the hall to his love sitting at a dining table in a high-ceilinged open room and I gave her a tight, extended hug, expressing my congratulations on their marriage, which she accepted politely but did not seem too happy to see me. There were a number of other people in the apartment, and she took the hand of a child and began leading him away. I couldn't tell if the child was a boy or a girl, and I recall using both pronouns, but his wife corrected me harshly with "he" and turned the child around, whose face looked old and haggard.

I went to find Adam again, who was sitting now with one of my friends in a dark room, who wanted to leave. I absolutely did not. I went down the hall to put on my shoes--large, thick high heels, one bright red and one mustard yellow--and walked briskly back down the hall toward them. The whole night I had felt so sexually charged, so out of control of my emotions. I wanted to jump on Adam and fuck and fuck, but I knew that it would be wrong, and that this nearly uncontrollable physical drive between us was our downfall. Adam and my friend were sitting in front of a massive window that faced outer space. Stars and galactic colors of purples, pinks and greens sparkled and glowed, formed a holographic density before me, like gazing into a magic eye. I was awestruck. I told them this is exactly what DMT looks/feels like. Adam said isn't it amazing? I was moved to great depths, and very confused about my place in this world. 


I decided to fly. I flew over rolling waves of white ice that appeared to be alive. I dodged bad men/spirits lunging at me. One was in a truck. I flew higher and higher and allowed myself to, aware it all wasn't "real." I felt the weight of myself in the wind. All the pressure. I flew from grays and blues to pinks and purples and sunny, warm colors, opening up the world. 

I soon landed on an icy beach and saw Jayme, who seemed to float slowly forward, her body very, very thin and straight and gray and hard like stone, her face placid and filled with grief. I motioned for her to climb on my back, and I tried to lift her up into the air, but I couldn't make it far off the ground; I just kept falling, as danger circled around us. 

Christine and I were visiting Tiffany and Phoenix at their apartment with fifty floors. We decided to take the staircase, which was a completely vertical blue iron cage that you had to climb straight up. We climbed and climbed and fear started to grow within me. When the fear got so brutal, we tried finding an exit to any floor, but we had climbed too far and had to squeeze back down through the tight cage, though now the staircase wobbled and swayed, unhinged from the ceiling (I recall in the dream having a memory of Michaelangelo and I climbing this staircase before to visit T & P, having not liked riding elevators). Christine finally found a door and pushed through it. Someone, perhaps Jayme, helped grab me from the constricting staircase and pulled me inside. I was shaking and in tears.

We were on the wrong floor, but it was filled with people in business attire. The ceilings were high and the floor was covered in thick, dark, ornate carpeting. Escalators with leather furniture on each step moved from the top floor to the next floor below. There were conference-like folding chairs set up before a large screen. There were chandeliers. I thought this might be a political scenario. I was wearing red corduroys and knew I would be spotted. Scott was with me admiring all the bulbous, sugary pastries. There was a room filled with large dogs being babysat, and one of the large dogs had a human/alien face, and as I approached him he began to purse his lips and gesture like a wind God to make an enormous sound, but the woman manning him stopped him and shooed us away before we could hear it.