Dream from January 20, 2014
My swirling vortex of thoughts now places me just outside the window of a friend’s house…
I am recording a message coming from the inside on a device I have in my hand. Then the signal stops and the friend notices, closing the curtains. He lives right near the street in a small house with white paneling on the outside. I start running down the sidewalk through the trailer park, a mix of Windham Hills and Circle Drive, naked – making running faster – like the first humans that walked the earth.
Suddenly, it’s the dead of winter, snow covering everything except the freshly cleared paved roads. I run around a white van parked by the sidewalk on the right, workers noticing me, reacting as I thought they would, with looks of shock and confusion. Running, jumping over a mud pit or trench that is shaped in a circle, which turns out to be a sewer line that is being dug up and excavated. Construction workers are nearby. I run through the grass, race home, bound up steps, and Google ‘electric organs’ after I hear someone talking about them. Since I have an actual electric organ at home, this makes sense.
My December ride then crashes in on a familiar TV world. Bryan Cranston as Hal is trying to impress his wife and family. He has that look of confusion on his face – “Ohhh”, he mumbles. Hal is trying to cook a soufflé type dish. He tries to transfer it to another dish, but it crumbles and falls over. Hal has an apron and oven mitts on – a cross between meth cooker Walter White and his buffoon counterpart from Malcolm in the Middle.
Later on, Hal’s head is seen on the floor and gets kicked by wife, Lois. Presumably he got killed and the rest of his body was turned into a cake that the family is eating for dessert. The cake is sitting on an island in the kitchen; Dewey takes a slice.
Lois just painted the neighbor’s house but now it’s back to the old way again – “Now it’s that cruddy green again”, Lois says, in her typical tone of disapproval. The house, set in a suburban neighborhood, has wooden paneling on the outside. A voice tells me that the neighbors are probably the ones who killed Hal. A glimpse inside their house shows a small, dimly lit, smoky room, tinted green, fan going, small rectangular window up high, someone sitting at a computer on a card table, people standing behind him. Like a creepy nerd’s lair whose only connection to the outside world is contained in the bright, basking glow of an outdated machine.
Back in normalcy at home, I brush my teeth and wash my mouth out with Pine-Sol (?), feeling afraid of swallowing it. I get a hotdog from the kitchen and eat it in bed, which is exactly what I have done in real life.