3/20
Hadn’t dreamed the last couple of nights as Sir Frankie Crisp slept like a dragon curled up on my chest; he eats my dreams. I had to go to bed early with the dolls last night, I was so dizzy and snotty. I dreamed and dreamed. Too bad I left such a mess from supper and decorating for Easter last night that it has taken too long to get to my dreams even if I’m drinking stale coffee. I’ll do my best to decipher my night scribbles. The main problem is that it was so dark that I wrote the first two dreams on top of one another.
In the first dream I worked for Trump. He was either my teacher or I was his intern. I think it was more like he was my college professor, and I was his teaching assistant. Anyway, we had these huge projects in plastic binders due. Mine was in a white plastic binder with his picture and some cut out magazine letters like a ransom note enclosed in plastic on the cover. It was bursting with papers, probably four inches thick. We were talking, and he was stacking up the student projects. He lost mine. He was acting like it was no big deal, but I ended up having to do it all over again, starting from scratch. As I finished it I was thinking that it was better than ever.
In the second dream I was with a queer in a theater all night. I think we were working on something together. He was talking about something that smelled “unmentionable”. We had left the theater and came to a huge escalator, I didn’t want to go up. I boarded a bus with a tour guide. To my right were a row of old abandoned stone houses with broken windows. The guide was talking about them.
In the third dream I think I was at a doll club meeting in a hotel in England; but I’m not sure, I’m going off of my notes here. Maybe I took the bus there. Michael Canadas was there. There were also a lot of older women. I was talking about meeting up with Mummy later, although I knew that I was lying because she was dead.
Are you ready for the final dream? It’s a real lulu. It is also fresh enough in my head that I’ve got a fresh cup of coffee, so let’s go. It began with my best friend Theresa and my ex, Paul, taking a bus to The University of Pittsburgh. Theresa wore a yellow top. We had some work to get done: typing. When we arrived Paul said he wanted breakfast. Theresa and I sat across from him at a small table while he pounded a huge breakfast that was spilling over his beige plastic cafeteria tray. I had a hash brown and something else small like a cookie or a grape that he gave me. Then we were in a big room that looked like an old typing classroom filled with green typewriters not computers. I got nothing done. Why? My single sheet of paper was very thin and translucent, more like onion skin than vellum. I had typed it single spaced, front and back, horizontally not vertically. Theresa said that she only got ten pages done. At this point we left the typing room and lost Paul. Theresa and I returned to the cafeteria where we sat at a little round table covered with a white linen tablecloth. Danielle had joined us. Theresa said that she was hungry, and I wondered why she hadn’t eaten breakfast. She asked Danielle to get something to eat with her, and Danielle agreed, only saying that Theresa was going to have to pay this time as she was sick of always picking up the check. Theresa did not eat with Danielle. I had gone down a huge seventies style wooden staircase with gigantic windows and trees all around and ran into Susan, my other best friend. She wore a long t-shirt that looked a lot like one of those Frankie Goes to Hollywood RELAX prints that were popular in junior high with black bermuda shorts and sandals. Her hair was pulled back. We hooked back up with Theresa, and there was another stainless steel cafeteria style line with coffee pots and a plate of giant snickerdoodle cookies as big as pancakes covered with plastic wrap. I asked Theresa if she wanted a cookie. She said no, that they weren’t “cheesy”. I was trying to ignore the fact that she seemed to be acting up. A girl from the typing room had given me a small cardboard box with a white piece of paper on the side with red cursive script. It was filled with lines of little printed boxes, maybe two by two inches. The girl said that she did not know what they were. She called them something like little shrunken or burnt bits. I opened one of the little boxes, top one on the right.They looked like boxes of jax. It was full of beautiful iridescent insects, beetles, and other things, made out of plastic or metal, not sure. There were nine boxes, in total, three rows of three. I knew that the three on the left were all bugs, but the other two rows were still mysteries to me. I was thinking the three of us could share them, picking a box, one at a time, and that might cheer Theresa up as she was getting cantankerous when I woke up.
