Dream Asylum

I don't pretend to understand them.


I was in the room as Brent handed a stack of math assignments to his teacher. Examining the papers closely, I noticed that they were all the assignments I'd done last year, and Brent was re-using the papers. I noticed bits of his own writing mixed in, where he'd corrected the mistakes I'd originally made. Then a little later I looked at the papers again, and they were all in his writing.

Then I was walking to parking lot with brent. He went up to Justin's dad, who was playing techno in a firebird. As Brent hopped into the car, I thought, oh, I hope he offers me a job at Logicon. Nope. He advises Brent and I to go find a place to rent before our money dwindles away. I tell him we're on top of it, and walk accross the parking lot to a garage.

I get in the car that's in the garage, blare some of my own music, and drive off. Down the road, away from my sawyer circle house, around the curve a jungle-gym like structure of metal bars has divided the road into two narrow lanes. I am relieved that I don't get in a head-on collision, as the cars coming up are smart enough to drive on the left side of the bars.

I end up at my sawyer circle house. I know I have a lot of homework to do and it frustrates me. I'm throwing a shopping cart around to spend the nervous energy. A car comes driving up. Oh great, I think, guests. I don't feel like acting all happy. I'll just keep tossing this cart around.

The car stops near the driveway and backs up, stopping so the occupants can peer at me through some trees. I don't recognize either of them, but I suspect they're relatives, and I hate pretentious, nosy relatives. Still carrying the shopping cart, I walk up to the driveway.

Many cars have parked here, and various relatives I don't recognize are helping each other unpack. I peer into the back of a wide, white-paneled van, and see the riding area of some teenage girl relative. People are rearranging the white bunk-bed, and the white travel-bags containing the few remaining pieces of candy she didn't devour on the way here.

I look at my hands and discover big black grease stains. From tossing the shopping cart, I think. I see my Dad in the driveway and run up to him and jump into his arms. Just as everyone goes "awww", I wipe my hands off on the front of his shirt. His shirt was already very dirty from the things he'd been doing earlier, so I'd figured a little more dirt wouldn't hurt. He didn't mind.

He advised me that some relative would probably be sleeping in my bed, so we'd have to set up something on the floor of the living room for me. This made me unhappy. Someone opened a book and started talking about our "driving trip". Dad mentioned something about how we needed someone to "drop us off". In the book was a map of some area above California, where a long winding river formed a lake at it's head. We were to get on a cruise liner there, and take the cruise liner to Denmark with all these relatives. I asked Dad something about this, and he said to follow him and he would show me more about the cruise liner.

He went into the house, downstairs, and into my older sister's room where the TV was. He took out a videotape and put it in the VCR. I was standing in the living room, half-watching this and half pondering how the hell I was going to get homework done with all this crazy stuff happening. On the TV, a show that might have been a soap-opera appeared. Dad upended a bag and rolled four english muffins into his hand.

The soap-opera showed a stage in a theatre. A troupe of performance artists was doing a slow ballet, with elements of Tai-Chi stirred in. Most of the dancers were children. At the back of the stage was a triangular room sectioned off by curtains stretched around bars. From behind these cloth walls came the very loud sighs and moans of a woman coming close to orgasm. The dancers continued their routine until the cries reached a crazed peak, and they they all broke their positions and ran to the curtain-walls and stuck their arms through, making holes, and waved their arms around. The couple behind the curtains thought they were screwing in secret, and sure got a surprise when the dancers said hello.

As all this came out of the TV, I ran from the living room to the bathroom, intending to take a long shower so that I could have some privacy from all the relatives, and formulate a plan to get my homework done despite this lunatic trip to Denmark. It was very frustrating. Then I woke up, thinking, "well, you play with matches, you get burned". This is what I get for sleeping in when I could be doing my math homework today.

Stupid Brane, giving me advice. I think I need a new brane.