Monday, October 14, 2013

Fishing in Trevor's Backyard and Baby Dolphin with Cat Paws Under My Newspaper Skirt

I walk out Trevor's back door and there is a sport-fishing pole wedged between his deck stairs and angled towards the fence. It's bouncing like there may be a fish on it, but there's no water, the line is tangled in some bamboo to the left of the yard.
I call to the boys, "Trevor! Kenny! Come get your fish!" and they run out and I tell Kenny it's his fish, so he has to pull it in. He's yanking and pulling and he's not "catching" it. I tell him, "Jerk it! Catch the gills!" and he tries a few more times and looks back at me, defeated. I shake my head and roll my eyes. I'm annoyed that he didn't listen and now he'll pout and it will ruin the day.
I walk around the left side of Trevor's house and there is another sport-fishing pole wedged under the rocks that line the house by the driveway. Trevor's house is now my Great Grandma's house and the fishing pole is in her old pond. It's thrashing around violently and I know I have to be the one to get it, but Kenny grabs the pole and rips the hook through the creature attached. He pulls hard and struggles and both Trevor and I grab the pole and with all three of our strengths together, we pull a baby dolphin out of the water. He comes out with such force, that he flies over our heads and lands behind us on a small red wooden bridge.
I'm instantly horrified. I look down at it's big, dilated black pupils and he looks scared to death. My heart is crushed. I lay down beside him and stare into those glossy eyes and pet the side of his face with my left hand. Stroking him and telling him I won't hurt him and he'll be ok. I want him to hear me and understand me and believe me so bad! I just want to comfort him.
He is moving his tongue around in his mouth and I peek in and see the hook has pierced through and has sliced a long gash. There isn't any blood, but I can tell that he's in a lot of pain because he keeps moving his tongue around in his mouth and looking at me with those black eyes.
He has a tiny cat tongue. Not a the huge muscle you'd typically see inside a dolphin, but a small soft cat tongue.

Fast forward

I'm standing over the baby dolphin with my legs on either side and he is on his back now and is looking up at me. I am naked, with only a newspaper skirt covering my bottom half. The dolphin has cat paws at the end of his flippers and he's "clapping" under my skirt.
Two friends are there and they're watching me with puzzled looks on their faces. I feel a hard tugging/pulling under my newspaper skirt and realize the dolphin's paws are tangled in my pubes and it's making me struggle against the weight of the thrashing baby animal. I realize I must give an explanation as to my weird behavior and I blatantly say to them, "This dolphin is tangled in my pubes."

Then I wake up.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Digging up the Anchor and Dad Stole My Quarters

I'm standing on a white sand beach, just at the water's edge. There is a small current and the slightly cold water laps at my toes. An old man stands just to my left, but in the water just past his ankles. He is looking down and using his foot to brush the water off of a rusty object. He says, "Feel that rust." and I rub my left foot along the edge. "It's an old anchor. I've been wanting to dig it up for years."

Fast Forward

I'm standing in a sand pit about waist level. Joey is in the pit also, a few feet in front of me and we're both digging in the sand with short handled shovels. The kind of shovel with the hand gripper at the end. I'm digging in the wet white sand , deeper and deeper, and I see the rusted metal of the old anchor again. I use my shovel to carve around the edges and I start to see little red candy wrappers, rectangular and shiny with scalloped edges. The more I dig, the more candies start to appear. And quarters. Stacks of quarters toppling over in the sand. My dad is there suddenly and he's helping me gather the candies and quarters and I am thankful for the extra hand. We are working side by side, Joey digging still to my left and now dad gathering what almost looks like Pinata innards. I look at the ground beneath my dad's feet and all I see are empty candy wrappers. No quarters.

I'm furious. I'm so mad at him I'm crying hysterically to anyone that will listen. I'm bawling. It's violent. I'm telling Trevor how my dad stole the quarters from me and I can hardly stand it. I'm fucking furious.

Then I wake up

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Kidnapped Little Girl and Remodeling Trevor's House

I'm sitting in a car in a familiar driveway. It reminds me of the driveway of the home next to my best friend's home in elementary school. I see a little girl, brunette, maybe seven years old, to the front right of me in kind of dirty clothing and messy chin-length hair. She looks like she's been playing outside all day. She's holding a jump rope and looking towards the street which is running perpendicular behind me. I watch as she stands frozen with her hands down at her sizes and the rope dangling loosely from her left hand.
I see a man with messy dark hair, a stained white tee shirt and jeans lightly dusted with mud that has dried to a dark sand color. He walks towards the frozen girl at a brisk pace and shares only a few words with her before retrieving something from his right pocket. I'm sure it's a knife, even though I don't see it directly. He brings it to her neck and her face goes blank as he just holds the point under the left side of her chin. Not to kill, but to warn her that if she moves an inch, he will take her life.
I am filled with panic, sitting in my car and watching him guide her to his car. I don't actually see them climb into the silver hatchback with a foot or so navy blue line accenting the bottom panel, but I know they're in. My mind is in a place between rescuing an innocent child--one I don't know personally--and not putting myself in potentially the same situation she is. My hesitation decides my action for me and I sit in the car, looking behind my passenger seat as the man, who was parked facing north, does a u-turn and heads in the opposite direction.

Time Travel

I'm at Trevor's "house" (I say it that way because he lived there only in this dream, and there were certain details that were the same, but it is not his current home). He lives in the house next door to my elementary school best friend and the driveway I've been parked to is adjacent to the sloping, in need of repair, weather tainted light grey deck. I'm inside the house. We're standing in the bathroom (which is the same layout as mine in my current apartment, but in the condition of what a rental house might look--sloppily painted white walls, three section mirror with a wood frame, dated linoleum) with my mom and Trevor and we're watching Trevor, standing in the doorway with a dimly lit room behind him, and he's opening presents. As he's opening them, he gives the contents a puzzled look and furrows his brow. The square, thin  item inside is a floor tile.
Not any floor tile, but a soft, impact absorbing tile, about 12"x12"x1" (The kind that fits together and that people put under heavy items in their homes, or on the floor behind a clerks desk, to give them a more soft platform than the carpet covered concrete.)
My mom and I watch as the look and feeling of disappointment gradually changes Trevor's face and then seem to transfer to me and I start to change myself. Mom is still smiling a soft and hopeful smile as Trevor places the half opened gift in his left hand and she hands him another gift of the same shape. With the foam peeking out from the torn paper of the first gift, he begins to open the second. It's the same exact thing as before. He looks at me almost angrily this time and says, "What is this?"
I stutter as the words try to move past my tongue and say, "The floor needed updating, so I figured I'd let you choose." I have more of the same shaped gifts in smaller thicknesses stacked on the counter behind me. I turn to my left and as a grab a square and start to turn around towards Trevor again while peeling back the paper at the top right corner. It's a dated pattered square of linoleum. I feel regret as I see what poor choices I've made and move my eyes slowly up until they meet his. "Why did you get this for me?" he asks. "The house needed updating so I figured this would be a fun way to motivate us both to start a new project." He just shakes his head.
I have one more gift for him. It's even more flimsy and square. I hand it to him and he opens it fairy quickly this time and reveals a small stack of laminated pictures from the movie The Lion King. "This isn't really my style." Trevor says. I feel instantly depressed that after all of the time we've spent together, I don't seem to get him at all.

Time Travel

We're walking hand-in-hand with Trevor on my left towards the lighting department at the Lowe's store near my house. I note the familiar view with all of the lights seeming to be at different dimness levels.

Then I wake up.