My House But Not My House.
April 26, 2010 § 1 Comment
Last night I dreamed I made a bomb that looked like a fire detector & worked like a mousetrap. You’d put the dynamite inside it like a battery & then wind it around until it clicked, & once it clicked there was no going back. In the early part of the dream I realized I’d set the bomb without considering I was in a large-collateral-damage area—the street, for instance—& so ran around like crazy looking for a field. One of the places I looked for a field was in a Space Museum, full of stars & shit, & there was no field. After much desperate pleading with a school bus driver lady, I hitched a ride on her school bus to find a field. I was bumping along on the school bus & still racing against the clock when I realized the dynamite had fallen out of the bomb in my frantic attempts to find it a field to go off in & I had to find the dynamite quick before it blew up, since I had decided it could work independently of the bomb itself, & would. Suddenly, R. appeared, all Deus Ex Machina, & said he’d found my missing dynamite in the Space Museum, & had handed it over to the security guard behind the desk who, of course, having worked for years at the Space Museum, knew exactly what to do with it.