It feels like I’ll have my dreams nicely in hand, but when I sit here in front a blank page, I’ll both remember the expanse of my dreams growing large in front of me and be unsure of what point I am going to be starting at… and both fixed on a single image while the rest of it falls away behind it.
Of course, the boy texted me, I already looked at it.
Anyway, let’s see what happens here –
I was in West Hartford. I knew it was West Hartford, though at some point it felt like New Haven. It was, of course, a West Indian neighborhood, and I remember that even though my brain was totally fine saying that this was West Hartford, it was actually a place in Jamaica that I have been, but can not remember. It was not Montego Bay, nor was it Negril, or any of my south side locations. It could have been Westender Negril actually, but I think it was actually someplace on the North side (I’ll check the map on the second cup).
I believe I was going to the domino’s club, and there is actually a restaurant nearby… one I should consider frequenting. If you don’t know what a domino’s club is, then you are not the intended attendee for the domino’s club, that’s all I’m saying.
I was going to a restaurant. I feel like I was going to meet someone, but I can’t remember who. There are many people that it could have been, but in my head I feel like it was all of them. The restaurant had one large center table, with counter seating around the sides, and a seating bar around the front facing the kitchen. It was actually cool looking, not the kind of place for a date, but the kind of place for friends.
The concept of “going out” feels like something to unpack at some point.
I don’t know how long I was there, it felt like I was often there. The dream suddenly gets graphic. There was a blonde white chick, some stereotypical angel goth, who was apparently quite friendly and available for use throughout the restaurant. As a matter of fact, she was already wearing purple velvet / black satin cuffs and collars, and there were eye bolts screwed in around the seat of my chair. As she was nice, and pretty (I feel like I almost know her, but can’t place it…) I took advantage and clipped her to my chair, arms on either side and her face between My legs (and I just remembered that I can’t remember what I was wearing).
I kept her there for an unreasonable amount of time, throughout several conversations. I feel like there was a lot going on in that section of the dream, several people, but none of it really matters, much like most of the nights I go out. Eventually she (very nicely of course) reminded me that she was still there, and could use to stretch and socialize. I unclipped her (in my waking state I realize that she could have gotten herself out at anytime, the clips were pretty accessible – I’d do better irl). A pair of dudes behind me were constructing a pretty small metal cage on a pedestal, and I understood immediately that she was a contortionist, and supposed to fit inside. I was interested, but I believe I left at that point.
I think I was supposed to meet people at the second place too, or just knew there were going to be people that I knew there. I feel like I was carrying something, or doing something that made things awkward, but I don’t know. IT was a club, unreasonably large, like an empty warehouse space. The bar was full I believe, the there were some stools, just not the good ones. I ended up sitting second one to the last in the right hand corner, when my friend, a girl that used to live close by, then moved farther, then faded off my radar entirely a year or two ago, came and sat at the bar too.
She had something meaningful to say, and I totally had it when I came in, but it’s gone now. That sucks, because it was beautiful that somehow my brain ran through the endless list of eventually irrelevant faces and chose her to deliver it to me.
After that, I’m not sure how much of my recollection was a dream, or remembering the dream.I did, in fact take melatonin last night, for the first time since Thursday night
I was going to do something else, but I realized that the computer that I was going to do it on ran out of charge.
Yes, I still have a small stack of laptops that can’t run in a milk crate next to my desk. I meant to take them over to my brother, but I didn’t, and that’s probably for the best, for several reasons.
I feel guilty that I broke quarantine to visit my brother on Easter. I don’t know why I did that. Now I’m home, and I feel a slight stretch and scratch in my chest, and I’m just so paranoid that I gave him something, more than I even care if I got anything.
More than I even care if I gave anyone else besides my brother anything… just saying.
I also feel guilty that when I left my house, I did not go straight to my brother’s… which reminds me, I have to sterilize my set of urethral sounds, but I left them in the boot of my car.
I *also*, and probably most severely, feel guilty that on my way out of my brother’s house, I bought a pack of cigarettes at the gas station. If I did catch anything, I pray to God that it was there. At least that way I would believe that my brother had been safe. I feel like I knew where I got it – I was going to go into the store, and an older man wearing a mask was coming out the door. I waited for him to come out, which he did… and for some reason still felt fucking compelled to walk very close to me on his way into the parking lot. Like almost touching, what a fucking douchebag. It was unnecessary.
When I went back to my car to pump gas, there was a dude who looked like stereotypical jesus (aka random skinny white manbun) leaning on his car pumping gas. Idk, when times get crazy we look for any sign we can find, don’t we?
I’ve been paranoid ever since then. I was supposed to quit smoking. I still am, but I want one and with them in the house, it’s harder to ignore. Should I just accept this setback, or should I throw them out?
I wish I hadn’t bought them. I can tell that much. The amount of stress this is causing me, as smoking in general was anyway, is not worth… anything really. It’s pointless.
I’m still going to go smoke one now, though.
Although I told myself that I’d save them for when I next hung out with side dude, as I will want them then (the domino’s club makes sense now), and I should do that.
I want to see him tonight, but obviously I need to make sure I’m not sick. I don’t want to give him anything either.
My temperature reads normal.
God, my posts read so shallowly when I’m worried.
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I just realized who she was.
The blonde chick at the bar.
It was the cop that arrested me last time, I remember thinking the entire time that she was way too pretty to be a cop.
I hope this doesn’t mean anything.
On second thought, I probably should not go to the domino’s club anytime soon.
And I probably should call my side dude to tell him about this.
The friend that I was supposed to meet at the second club, the buzz cut lesbian that used to live up the hill in our iconic and beautiful neighborhood in my favorite house that I’ve ever almost owned, has appeared in quite a few of my dreams in what apparently, checking the date here, has only been a month but feels like an eternity.
I’m so glad that for once, time is taking it’s time on me. I feel like I’m falling so far behind, but then I check the calendar and realize that everything is actually fine.