2023

23-12-23 sweet, gentle, slow, and tired homosexytimes, in a big puddle of male-bodied people; searching for and walking with friends in an autumn evening 

15-12-23 a fellow nonbinary-masculish human asked me "are you maroon?", and while I couldn’t answer them, I remain intensely interested to know enough to make one 

13-12-23 I raspberry-react to a Facebook post including pictures of S on a homemade blanket with fish and flowing water (I’d love to know what the other reacts were), and then hang out with friends of hers in a bright wooden interior, one of whom is playing the cello.

Later, others and I are threatened by a boring, fishy creature somehow disguised as a young white woman giving a presentation to a class of peers, and despite my X-ray vision of sharp concealed teeth and strong appetite, my warnings prompt no action.

Further words: 

7-12-23 Ah, aliens. Through a series of time loops and interior human living spaces, the two extraterrestrial visitors erode my hostile distrust, in part by becoming less physically indefinite (from small clouds of sand to tall, beautiful Scandinavians), as well as by very calmly talking me through the utter ineffectiveness of my melee attacks.

30-11-23 wandering through theater spaces

?-11-30 wandering through irresistibly safe art studio spaces with deep summer heavy in the air 

6-11-23 moving through humble home interiors on another bureaucratically governed planet, beautifully and vertically rocky with many small clear blue-green bodies of water, knowing that I have help to offer these people 

26-10-23 walking talking laughing and linking arms with a great many people during a suspiciously lighthearted occupation-protest, R being on my right as we all sat on the stone floor of a rotunda 

21-10-23 helping with logistics at AFN in a version of UAF’s Great Hall, weeping intermittently for all the violence survived; lying on sandy summer ground with L and E, philosophizing amiably 

19-10-23 walking and running through a home formerly inhabited by me, feeling very sad and nostalgic for something, and stopping to grip the shoulder of a male friend and share earnestly with them 

10-10-23 Toward the end of many other adventures, an masculish Asian person whispers in my ear some tease of a detail about our impending hookup and then runs ahead of me up the stairs of a hotel, I excited and somewhat showoffish about my stair-skipping skill and endurance. First we stop to use a bathroom consisting of vaguely partitioned mesh-floored areas, where I saw my lover laughing and arching his spine backwards in a hitherto-unknown urination technique. We also talk briefly with another cute masculish person who flusters me. Later I participate in something like a puzzle room with cosplay elements.

More:

28-9-23 wandering the halls of what might be more academic institutions, in one working on a masonry puzzle, in another cloistered with an art-horror that would disfigure the portrait I was working on if I became distracted, in another involved in a late-hour sport somehow combining The Point’s triangle toss and log beam repair, and in yet another falling endlessly through the middle of a small torus-hallway ostensibly floating in outer space 

Afterthoughts: 

26-9-23 finding myself in the nineteenth century immersed in some satisfyingly preinformed resistance of the colonial creep westward by the American empire, meeting a black person named Mahalla who had a row of four eyes 

18-9-23 an art studio is wandered through, discovered to be increasingly large in the process. A notably boob-decor-centric area, often involving models and artists with many oblong designs stuck all over their bodies and the area, gives way to a yet larger storage area looming like distant clouds: I levitate or simply discorporate out of my wheelchair passing through the storage zone as I see massive screens a kilometer or more away display a metanarrative movie, involving spherical mirrors reflecting each other, for the millions of people traveling through this new glass-ceilinged space, via a sprawling plant-like network of tubes.

More: 

10-9-23 summertime Bergman family reunion in a very differently configured farmor house, and we’re all vibing and enjoying food as we bustle about: I step out onto an unscreened second-floor deck at one point and admire the lush birch forest surrounding us

30-8-23 a party on the tops of ceiling fixtures like banks of lights, or art, which I only can access by flying and climbing within a very tall room: I don’t seem to know anyone, but everyone is very important and doing important work 

23-8-23 flying often using swimming motions ~100m over a human-populated coast, occasionally diving/falling into the ocean to find trash; jumping often great distances down irregular steps in a shaft, the bottom of which is the home of a vaguely dangerous woman 

22-8-23 standing slowly without assistance from my manual wheelchair; running up and down concrete steps; wandering hallways to an elevated footpath on the edge of a performance or commercial-industrial space, passing diverse humans, and looking over a guard rail to see a performer moving on an impossibly featureless stage in time with a new song that … I realize I’m also performing on the piano! The movement artist is held with great pleasure and curiosity by the eyes, as well as by a semi-sheer body suit, and their choreography includes much bilateral hip rotation prone and supine. My accompaniment is a sort of conversation between left and right hands, a repeating four-bar chord progression in probably non-major keys, in which the hands rarely if ever play simultaneously, but compliment each other with immediacy and chromatic meandering.

More: 

11-8-23 mirroring the twangy accent of a new neighbor as we share awe for the beautiful spacious birch forest around us, now grass-floored and  a steep 60 degrees 

24-7-23 Mid-rehearsal at something like the Davis concert hall, I’m picked up by my stepdad and driven on cold wintry roads to a dilapidated former Alaska Club. Unknown though its other uses are now, our arrival was met with a promotional presentation by and for the United States Marine Corps! Cue feelings! I recall freezing emotionally at least twice, after anti-aircraft guns are pointed at the audience, for instance, as well as after realizing that I sat between my stepdad and my dad, who got up in a representative and literally jumpy agitation to redress some flaw in the AA unit’s presentation. The dream thereafter quickly disintegrated into reactive and metareactive hypothesizing, which awoke me to preoccupied drowsiness.

Thoughts: I was upset about leaving the rehearsal, which is itself often "Colonization’s Greatest Hits: Vol. XXIII", and I was profoundly upset by the self-righteous generational aggression on display, which is cultural machinery that I know both of those parents of mine are caught in - that I and perhaps everyone is caught in, that I have much space and empathy for - and I wanted to yell at them for hurting me, for their hypocrisy and retributive anti-relational hardness, which is just the sort of behavior I am critical of. I intoned the word de-cruit in my mind until the storm passed.

23-7-23 I’d been sent to check on a desert exoplanet settlement, finding it full of sand and runic carvings and empty of humans. Using some form of technology-assisted environmental recall, or even perhaps an eigenreality scan, I received visions of the work that the settlers had been able to do - cultivating soils and a breathable atmosphere from within the spacecraft-arcology-settlement itself - before being beset by a horrific contagion, and setting much of it ablaze as a self-sacrificial quarantine measure, with much loss of life. At this point, buffeted by hostile proximal universes in my wobbly resonator, I’m pitched into another parallel, this time in an arcology adrift in landless ocean: the fires and arguable zombification remain, but this time the doors work! There’s a dark time of evasion and ignorance of the scope of the damage, when the night of the distant world never seems to end. I move between groups of survivors, sealing infected areas in the process, and gradually a dawn of more than one variety begins to break: we have pumpkins and other food to grow and engineer, and we have a bit of solar power; the prospects of human composting have never been so personal, and will also help immensely with the health of our soil; and the sea is a vast adventure when we’re ready for it.

Further thoughts: 

24-6-23 in a building clearly in the aftermath of genocide

22-6-23 dad and I stop to very obviously shoplift a magazine near the exit of a winter-bound store in an attempt to distract a crowd of fuzz from further harassment of a couple more-recognizably Indigenous folks 

I run happily down a hill after a soccer ball and encounter owl chicks

17-5-23 finding S at a hostel, doing art outside at night 

15-5-23 dropping acid and experiencing life as, perhaps, captain Picard; awakening safe at the bottom of stairs to relate the story to a housemate; joining them and many others in a kitchen with much laughter

25-4-23 rehearsal of my vocal part in Sammy Rae and the Friends’ ‘Flesh & Bone’

20-4-23 a long journey on foot with an unknown companion partly under a mountain range and passing through a community’s serpentine halls 

16-4-23 visiting or perhaps living with A and B and others in the big 811 house 

14-4-23 running for errands up and down many different and dilapidated sets of stairs, one errand being the pieces for a fun chain reaction device paralleled by string lights 

12-4-23 playing a drumset with great energy and freedom, in new and exciting genres; having a tantrum and throwing and breaking my sticks; picking up the pieces in a sheepish daze

Singing a more detailed and less crash-and-burn version of the Viagra Boys’ ‘Sports’

5-4-23 flying among laboratories in a sunny skyscraper; fighting a demon with a warhammer 

1-4-23 Playing d&d with friends and green resin figurines 

31-3-23 unbuttoning the shed metal exoskeleton of a human-sized desert insect (much like a ladybug larva) with a tophat-shaped head and crawling inside 

27-3-23 another living and dead patrilocal reunion, memorably singing and weaving back and forth on a bench with uncle Hank, and possibly wearing space suits 

25-3-23 Ever been rescued from a conniving AI by the god/dess of fat? Well I sure have, and I can testify to feeling hella safe in its/their/her realm of bright white voids traversed by flesh-lobed and flesh-hued lines, enveloping and releasing me and my companions by turns in many butt belly and boob-shaped vacuoles. Its/their/her motives very well may have been as indifferent to us as our abiotic pursuers: we didn’t get much resolution. If the in-dream equivalent of zoning out or snoozing on something is to awaken, then that seems to have been our reaction to the AI’s deployment of a wearyingly lengthy end-user license agreement in an attempt to trick our god/dess into handing us over. We saw it drafting gigabytes of obfuscatory dependent subclauses with impossible speed in a hologram before surrendering to the comical tedium with unconsciousness; and thereafter, consciousness.

More: And maybe that was its intent all along…

21-3-23 biking around a farm full of unexpected delights 

20-3-23 as an ambulatory adult with concert piano as part of my career, it was my turn to have a child with a severe disability 

Later I silently congratulate S about something with a squeeze on her left hip 

11-3-23 many un/familiar peers in a large old wooden building, finding M who is now trans

9-3-23 running with a new family in great joy 

8-3-23 wandering the public swimming and retail areas, and employee catacombs, of a futuristic Costco; the former were white exclusively, and especially around the pool, I found it refreshingly odd that I could see only people’s faces with clarity; the latter were numbingly inhospitable, to the extremity that I did something so all-consumingly reparative that I had no enemies anymore 

4-3-23 wandering around in a group of friends and we happen to be free to masturbate

2-3-23 driving to a bar in a somehow-familiar hilly rural northeastern Europe with a male friend, realizing with some excitement that he’s driving on the sidewalk bordering a cliff; arriving to find friends and friends of friends, curiosity, intrigue; zipping down the upper half of my jacket and being just as allured by the mystery of what I would reveal as everyone else; wandering back from an old cellar/bunker in a corner of the otherwise tall, glass-ceilinged building to sit as thick fog and pale green lights herald a thunder-deep voice advising us/me "ASK YOUR QUESTION ON THE THIRD OF OCTOBER”, which feels profound, even as I also feel skeptical about the setting and potential theatrics

More: something about the syntax of what the voice said suggests a non-native speaker, but I don’t remember what the adjectives before QUESTION are