Dream

[stilltrucking]

Woke up from a dream about my Ferrari
Actually it was Ferraris plural. I had three of them . one was silver, one was green and one red and all of them had noisy water pumps just like my 1995 Mazda Protege.

Such a feeling of unreallity with me these days. I wonder what life was like before money. Before we started wearing clothes, before poctkets and wallets and purses. Before employment and jobs and forty hour weeks.

Yes the people bowed and prayed to the neon god they made
and I am too dumb to live. I just discovered the reality of money. I suppose I am a late bloomer.

[SadLuckDame]

Jack and his wheels.

[stilltrucking]

A guy in the dream from college park maryland that I used to know over thirty years ago. Strange dream. Not a nightmare but troublesome. I bought my car from Lew Welch. It is the one he drove when he was back in Chicago working for an advertising agency where he came up with the slogan "Raid kills bugs dead."

RE:
Lew Welch and The Beat Generation
Genesis Angels.


Dear Joanne by Lew Welch

Dear Joanne,

Last night Magda dreamed that she,
you, Jack, and I were driving around
Italy.

We parked in Florence and left
our dog to guard the car.

She was worried because he
doesn't understand Italian.

[stilltrucking]

It's been a couple weeks since I smoked pot. My dreams are becoming vivid again.

I like this painting a lot, reminds me of mingo's art.

"Starker Traum" "Vivid Dream" — 1929 Paul Klee

We Are Near To Awakening, When We Dream that We Dream" 1989
Birgit Jürgenssen

[constantine]

klee's hip. terri and i used to come across paintings sometimes and would wonder who the artist was - it was almost always klee. it became a joke between us. i admire him for his diversity; he covered a lot of turf, but still you can always discern his presence - there is no one quite like him.

[stilltrucking]

No one quite like you Constantine

http://www.studioeight.tv/phpbb/viewtop ... light=wash

Thank you.

[stilltrucking]

the wash

and when you look out over the rim
and see all that has gone before
the layers and strata open
like the diary of god
all beneath this point are dead
you are dust that hasn't settled
you are compacted into grains
weathered and sorted
sandwiched between great reptiles and micro chips
time rains upon your head
until you wash out and away
in streams that cut and meander
dribbling, evaporating into salt flats
crystals of once was
reconfigure into what is
you listen to the eulogy of the mute
you dance upon two legs instead of four
writing poems that replicate
but never quite get there
and all your dreams and ideals
the rock you push and spin
are food for the abyss that stares
hungry in your face, too close
to even recognize, though
it's always been your home
you act as if you are on vacation
and you are

http://www.studioeight.tv/phpbb/viewtop ... light=wash

That poem is Klee like to me. It gives me "wry comfort"


I know what you mean about wondering who the artist was
I wondered for a long time who had done the cover art for this book.
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I just found out yesterday it is a painting by Paul Klee called Death and Fire.

Death and Fire (1940; 46 x 44 cm (18 x 17 1/3 in)) is one of Klee's last paintings. A white, gleaming skull occupies the center, with the German word for death, Tod, forming the features of its face. A minimal man walks towards death, his breast stripped of his heart, his face featureless, his body without substance. Death is his only reality, his facial features waiting there in the grave for him. But there is fire in this picture too: the sun, not yet set, rests on the earth's rim, which is also the hand of death. The upper air is luminous with fire, presenting not an alternative to death, but a deeper understanding of it. The man walks forward bravely, into the radiance, into the light. The cool, grey-green domain of death accepts the fire and offers wry comfort.
http://www.sai.msu.su/wm/paint/auth/klee/

Ten four on the versatility. He did over nine thousand paintings.

Still Life, his last painting a serene summation of his life's work

WebMuseum: Klee, Paul... on death and war, but his last painting, Still Life (1940; Felix Klee collection, Bern), is a serene summation of his life's concerns as a creator. ...
www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/klee/

[SadLuckDame]

Dreaming last night of magician.


I don't know who anybody ever is, Jack. I just don't, which it's easier to assume everybody that I've an interest in here are all one someone, because that clears things up for me, ya know? Even if not true, no one cares about that stuff...meaning if I call them someone other or not.

I had a dream last night about this tall, well-built black sheriff. He was on my tail to get some questions answered, he was a nice guy, not at all scary to me or anything. I recollect he had a house that was three stories high with a rocking horse on the balcony. The whole place looked grayish, even the horse, only shadows showed the outlines.

That was where I first found him, and we said nice "Hello's", then I disappeared to the streets. I knew he wanted to say more.
Next scene was in a mall, I think and I saw him in the crowd hunting for me, cause he was wearing this loyal blue shirt that was exactly the same color as the vase in your last picture.. I hid always behind him, watching his back, laughing when he couldn't find me. Like hide and seek, exactly like hide-n-seek.

Up and down he went on escalators, while I crouched inside a restaurant's booth. Started laughing in my head with the idea that all he had to do to trick me was change his shirt. Pick one that was gray or something less obvious. I'd lose sight of him that way.

I hopped on an elevator with a red headed, freckle faced man, the blue eyes and translucent white skin. As soon as he focus' in on me after the elevator door shut, I look straight at him. It all had to do with the gut, that instinct laying there within the internals that stirs sometimes...I crack up laughing and say to him, "You're him aren't you? The black sheriff."


And he laughs too.
He wiped off all this face powder, and only a little left on his lips. "I got you, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes you did."

[SadLuckDame]

The rest of the dream is pretty foggy, the elevator door opened up on the ground floor. We'd stepped out and I guess he'd wanted to run some sort of tests on me or something. There was a huge roller coaster type thing. I just remember the section of seats on it with a bunch of other people strapped into it, all excited to ride.

There was this fear of heights I felt and felt just standing next to the thing. It seemed like it was just air surrounding, and drop below. I was getting strapped into it and not happily so. I had all my complaints and mis-trusts.

Everyone strapped in tried to calm me with saying stuff like it'd be fun and everyone's doing it. No worries, blah, blah...

But I didn't care if they wanted to, I only cared that I wasn't sure I'd wanted to.

That was the over-whelming feeling and the Sheriff was there to see my reactions.

Later I recall standing at his three story house again, still gray and strange. Looking up at the rocking horse. He gave me an explanation on children, but I don't remember what or anything. Just that it tied in the whole scene and the horse and his life.

Just felt fine when waking, so must not of had to ride that ride after-all.

[jackofnightmares]

Printed this one out too

My eyes are shot
Going to get some shut eye

Good night cyber pen pal

[SadLuckDame]

Sleep tight, Jack.

What big eyes you have...
the better to see you with, my dear.

Always liked fairy tales.

[SadLuckDame]

Had a dream of an underground life-style and we all lived, slept in small and shared compartments, like capsules. Must have been the end of the world on top, but life went on in squishy conditions under-neath.

Oh, and there were guns, mean men with guns who hunted those whom would try to escape it.

I know, cause my little daughter and her friends made an escape and I was too worried.

Finally made contact with them to give them warning of the bad men, we talked on a home-made device, sort of walkie-talkieish.
......

Saw a fantastical dragon, he was small and made some small chirpy bird-like noises. His 'fan' around his head could puff up or relax, and when he didn't want found, he changed, as a shape changer does, I saw him turn into a normal fish, than two fish...

I'll find more detail to both of these later on.
Just wanted a spot to jot down to ya.

How's your second life going, Jack?

[stilltrucking]

I am glad your daughter escaped, so many bad men out on the street today I have heard. Teach her well amiga, I guess we teach best by example. I liked that bit from The Lonely Crowd
about inner directed people usually have parents who are free thinkers...

I know a fellow on the internet that tells me my attitude towards women is pretty sicko because of that Calvin and Hobbes cartoon I posted about girls.

I am okay, just scared. My weight back up again. I am always feeling better when I hear from you.

No shit.

There is a website called second life I have not checked it our.

Forgot most of my dreams the past couple of nights, I had one a couple nights ago about being naked. Someone once told me when you dream about being naked it is a dream about death. All I remember now is that it was a variation on my lost dreams. This time I could not find my car keys so I could drive home.

[SadLuckDame]

The lonely crowd, yes and you know...
not my parents
Except I'd like to say they did something right, and I can think of all sorts of stuff, but who's to say I'm an improvement other than I saying it myself, lol.

Yes, you've this attitude towards women, but I can't figure out if you love or hate them.
Isn't that nuts of me to think of you?
But, truly, at times I think you do, and at times I think you do.

Driving naked?
I haven't had that one yet.
You might be a gypsy. I have another gypsy friend of mine. You might be just like her.

Bad men, bad guns and people walking zombies.

I must of been dead already, cause I was the observer, ya know. I watched and followed. but not on my feet.

When my daughter and her friends left that congested underground mess of mass, they ended up on top, on the street and all the pretty white houses were there in the dark, only moon-lit, but all were vacant, streets vacant, too.

Watched them run up skinny in-betweens between the houses, but the bad men were after them in cars. I remember how they turned off the car head-lights to be sneaky. I saw them though and by home-made radio or walkie talkie, I forewarned her.

Nobody could live in congested under-worlds like rats were.

Glad to lead her away.



....................

Other dream with dragon was a huge street parade. I let go of three balloons to the air, there were fire-works, and there was the dragon. He hid away inside a man's over-coat, then floated 'flew' 'hovered' out to talk his chirps to me. Each of my emotions evoked a reaction with him, and that frilly fanned out bit behind his head, like a triceratops.

I got mad about letting balloons go and he puffed it up, I found a lost boy and he relaxed. It was that way through this street parade.

.......................

[stilltrucking]

Sorry to confuse you with my attitude towards women. It confuses me too.

I wish I could help you dame
I mean help you figure me out
or figure out any man

I been trying to be as objective as I can with you dame. brain to brain
all the while noticing the difference.

I am not asking you to believe what I say.
I am not trying to write a novel either.
just an artblog what ever that is

I am shooting for honesty, however that comes across.
Integrity would be a big plus
I would like to have some of that.

So there


I have not dreamed about my father more than once or twice maybe three times in the past almost 50 years. I always associated him with beatnik underground rats funky stench. A free a thinker as they come atheist Jew. But still a tortured man, took me years to have compassion on him and overcome by dread of being the youngest son of a youngest son.

Sometimes I think of my baby sister as Iphigenia who was ready to die for her father's sins.