El Camino: The Borderland State (A Dream Journal Based on Jung and Freud)

{MARCH 15, 1988 (GREG IS 15, AND 25.)}

 The fear happened in the dark night.   I ran  in between my bedroom and the living room, for I imagined finding a night walker outside staring at me.

 I toughened up, standing Taxi Driver like. 

I looked in the window holding my stalker, but all I saw was ME, then that ME mouthed: “I-AM-LOOKING-AT-YOU!” (33:365) (Pre-Dream using Jung's book of Dreams)

{MARCH 15 1988, (GREG IS 15)}

Before I can smash the window, a flood of water wipes away the ten year older Greg.   He disappears, like someone shaking an “Etch a Sketch”.   Only puddles of water are left.  Is this when I go crazy? Was he a spirited ghost? Should I follow the direction of the wave?  Now I am shaken.
(39:365)

Hypnagogia article in Wikipedia.
By the sea shore.  The sea breaks into the land, flooding everything. Then the dreamer is sitting on a lonely island. Jung, C. G. Dreams. New York: MJF, 1974. Print. pg 122

MARCH 16, 1988: GREG IS 27

…and then after the Tsunami;   I woke up wearing a striped conductor hat, and overalls  smelling the steam of the engine moving past the mountains on my left.   The mountains were the ones I remembered being in front of my junior high school, years of torment and pain.  I was thinking just keep moving; don't look back at the 100 cars of Sugar Beats.(40:365)

{HEADED NORTH BOUND} 

MARCH 16, 5:00 A.M, 1988: (DANIEL IS 27)

I keep an eye on the oncoming tracks; everything is blanketed by a white-grey sheet of snow.   January’s snow had not yet melted, and in parts there is a snow wall, on the side of the tracks, about six feet high.  Looking at my Thermowatch, I see that the temperature outside is thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit.  (41:365)

MARCH 17TH 1988, DANIEL 19, ANGELA 18}

Angela picks me up.  She is wearing a fur coat. I can only imagine what is beneath the fur; perfumed imagination makes my dick hard.
“ I have a present for you!”
She winks and circles her tongue around her red lips. She does this weird thing with her tongue against her brightened smile.
But all i can think of is: “But where's my father!?”
We wipe the snow from the window of her Mustang.  She brushes up against me.(42:365)

{MARCH 17TH 1988 (ANGELA IS 18)}

Yes the road seems long when the journeys all alone for six hours on end, and never a soul in site. Occasional tumbleweed blew across Interstate eighty. He's mom called... waking me... Daniel's dad had been called away on business, and did not want to strand him,  so I came quickly…so now I am here.
(45:365)
Beckett, Samuel. Waiting for Godot; Tragicomedy in 2 Acts,. New York: Grove, 1954. Print.

{November 21, 1979 (Daniel is 5)}

Again and again the witch visited my dreams.   She did it again, and I pulled up, my star wars bed sheets, over my head.   I attempted to create a cave where the witch would not get me. Tonight was a repeat show; I alone had to kill this ugly hag, could I do it? (46:365)

{March 17th 1988 (Angela is 18)}
We scrape the window of the Ford, ice has covered the windows.   The inside of the car has fogged up, as the car has been running since I picked up Daniel from the train station.    I wonder if I infatuate the lonely wanderer, or if perhaps I am leading him astray.   
We get warm inside. (47:365)

{March 17th 1988 (Daniel is 19)}
My hands ache warming up. 
Angela drives determined.
I turn on “Wyoming Radio”.  All I hear is crop projections, sales of Mrs. Augers junk, and an occasional cowboy crooner.   Then I hear “Today, a Colombian Boeing 727, crashed into the side of mountain, killing 143 passengers.  There were no survivors.”  
What were there fleeting thoughts?(48:365)

No comments:

Post a Comment