Dream # ____, female
May. 8th, 2004 12:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedarksiren2Bald-headed Dave was sitting at the coffee-shop counter smoking a cigarette, wearing his usual bandanna, the dark blue one that matched the dark blue sadness of his eyes. He did not seem sad for once, but perhaps contemplative, which struck the curiosity-chord in me, so I walked up to him.
He took a drag off his cigarette and smashed it out gracefully in the ashtray. HIs hands were large and soft-looking, despite the gashes and rough-exterior; I always know when a hand is soft or rough. His hands would surely be soft. He tries to be a manly-man, but the softness comes out in tears at night when he dreams of her death, and how he held her in his arms when she took her last sigh.
I slid my bottom up onto the barstool on his left, and he lifted his head to look at me. I have changed drastically, but does he see that? He never sees me, no matter where his eyes are. Still, I fought off the blush, and turned forward to face the bar and, incidentally, a mirror.
My hair was long, black, and had that '80's curled-up/ feathered rock diva thing going on. I had blue eyeshadow on, and fake eyelashes. I laughed a minute, and might have been a lunatic except for he kept staring at me.
I turned back to my right to face him only to see Vito staring at me, his crow's feet a testament to years in the sun. I looked around -- where was Dave? I didn't even get to say hello...
Vito took a drag off his cigarette, and as I watched him demolish it roughly in the ashtray, my seat grew a back and plush covering.
I looked up from the counter to see I was sitting in a large theater, all the seats were red plush and there was rock music playing loudly. No one sat in the same row as I was sitting, but some of the kids from the Tri-C choir were sitting in the row just behind me. I turned to my right, tucking my right leg under me, purple tights, red Converse shoes and all, and faced Armanda and Sarah, ready to brag.
"I've seen Heart TEN TIMES!" I said excitedly. Armanda smiled and nodded happily, excited that I was excited. Sarah just stared at me, as she often does, unhappy with the world and hiding behind her glasses. Sheri appeared from behind them, one row back, and told me how great it was that I had another opportunity.
"Yes! I am so lucky!"
She smiled her motherly smile, and her daughter, Natalie, poked her head out from behind her mother's butt. "Scared ya, didn't I?" We all laughed, and Sheri mentioned it was time to fund raise some more so they had to go.
As they went to leave, I remembered this ground-breaking fundraising strategy, and began making my way out of the row, but then I saw Dave again, sitting across the aisle from my row, eyes straight-ahead and focused, waiting for the show to begin. I stopped to look at him for a moment, and wondered where Jess was. I shook my head, as if to get rid of the side-tracking, and ran up the stairs to the lobby to try to catch Sheri.
As I got to the lobby, there were hundreds of people in golden light, some laughing with teeth as big as Alaska, others somber and creeping about. I pushed my way through them, but then I saw the candy table, and it was my idea! They stole my idea! I was appalled, heart-broken and angry, and stomped toward them in my black Doc Martins, fists clenched, arms swinging back and forth intently, and ready for a fight.
Just as I came upon the smiling crew, who seemed to be Armanda, Sarah, Sheri and Natalie all over again, the ceiling disappeared, and the walls. I stood under the marquee staring at the smoggy sky ahead, wishing a taxi would just take me home. I waved at one, and as he pulled up to me, I climbed into a bus, and we went roaring through the city. All the choir kids were on board, laughing and carrying on. I tried to settle them down, but we were going to meet Heart, meet Ann and Nancy Wilson, and I gave in, smiling and excited that I could discuss the song, "Elevator Beat" from Vanilla Sky with Nancy when I met her.
We drove over a hill, and down near the bottom stood the theater in golden lights. The Heart tour bus sat out front, and everyone began screaming. I tried to get to the front of the bus, to tell the driver to slow down. He had a cigar in his mouth and nasty brown teeth, all I could see in the rear-view mirror. Oh, and he wore a baseball cap.
We came down the hill quickly, and he pulled to the right to park behind the tour bus. I tried to scream above the excited group, to tell him not to hit their bus, but upon impact I pulled into a parking spot just to the right of the small ghetto-mart in Fairuza. It was so dark outside, and despite the gunshots and hoodlums on the streets, the world was too quiet and frightening.
I stepped out of my car, hesitating to leave her because I knew she didn't lock and would certainly get robbed. Still, I saw Dray coming out of the mart, wearing a bandanna and looking like something straight out of Boys in the Hood, dread-locks flopping about as he strutted with his two "bitches," both of whom I recognized but could not place.
I moved slowly, my mouth opening up in slow-warp and low pitched yelling. I all but sang his name, "Drrrrrraaaaaaayyyyyyyeeee!" he kept moving toward his mini-van. I slammed the car door behind me, and began to run after him. Each footstep helped to erase the blue car behind me -- she figured if I was abandoning her, she may as well be non-existent.
I turned left around the front of the van and grabbed Dray's left arm. His eyes darted up to mine, a knife glaring from his right hand. "You know you don' wanna do nothin' stoopid now, do ya, bitc..." his voice stopped with the ghetto bullshit and went up about an octave as he recognized me. "Hey Dawn! What are you doin' in these parts?"
I turned to look about and could not tell him. I thought I had reason, a purpose, but I couldn't figure it out then. I opened my mouth to speak, but he kept talking, and said he had to go "pop some niggas in dere cavities," and made a sick joke about how he was a dentist now. His "bitches" cackled from the back of the van, and he smiled with a gold tooth. I watched, apathetic and numb. Where was I?
Dray and his posse strutted back up onto the sidewalk and headed south into the projects there, knives and clubs spinning in fingertips. I could see remnants of blood on the tips, and became scared. I got up to the sidewalk, then to the door of the market but the Korean man inside turned the "Closed" sign and his eyes were exclamation points as I turned into a pitiful mess of an eight year-old girl beyond them.
I walked my bike across the barren street, hearing cats in alleyways and gunshots from afar. I stood on a triangular section of concrete, something to separate the three-way intersection. I looked to my right and saw a dark alleyway, and to my left stood the ghetto-mart. Straight ahead, a large hill. I knew this was my path, and that just beyond it stood a gold theater and I would be among the choir students and their rock-candies, and bandanna-Dave would find me lovely and ask me out to the prom.
I swung my leg over the bike and began peddling as hard as I could. I got about twenty feet up the hill before I began having breathing problems. There was soot in the air, a heavy smog, and the only light that was penetrating it was the spark from a fired handgun at the bottom of the hill.
My phobia kicked in and I began peddling again, only this time, when I ran out of breath and energy, I was back at the bottom, just a few feet from the triangular concrete again. I was exhausted, and wanted to go home, but I began peddling again.
Half-way up the hill, I began to coast backwards; the gravity pulled me back, a stronger force than my legs or will. I heard men call me "bitch" from below. A huge gang of men gathered there, looking for a fight or a fuck, I wasn't sure which. I didn't want to know, and began peddling furiously. Tears trailed in the wind I created, a storm swirling above my head. Soon tears turned to rain, and rain into hail. I was stuck in the middle of the road and the hill, crying out for help, but no one would answer me. I thought I could hear them if the wind would quiet down, but it wouldn't.
Peddle, peddle, peddle...I saw Dray's club fly past my head in the storm, and knew he'd been murdered. I knew I was next if I didn't get somewhere fast. It was as if I biked on an escalator that was going in the opposite direction though, and I didn't know how much longer I could keep this up.
I woke to the phone ringing, rolled over, and fell back to sleep.
He took a drag off his cigarette and smashed it out gracefully in the ashtray. HIs hands were large and soft-looking, despite the gashes and rough-exterior; I always know when a hand is soft or rough. His hands would surely be soft. He tries to be a manly-man, but the softness comes out in tears at night when he dreams of her death, and how he held her in his arms when she took her last sigh.
I slid my bottom up onto the barstool on his left, and he lifted his head to look at me. I have changed drastically, but does he see that? He never sees me, no matter where his eyes are. Still, I fought off the blush, and turned forward to face the bar and, incidentally, a mirror.
My hair was long, black, and had that '80's curled-up/ feathered rock diva thing going on. I had blue eyeshadow on, and fake eyelashes. I laughed a minute, and might have been a lunatic except for he kept staring at me.
I turned back to my right to face him only to see Vito staring at me, his crow's feet a testament to years in the sun. I looked around -- where was Dave? I didn't even get to say hello...
Vito took a drag off his cigarette, and as I watched him demolish it roughly in the ashtray, my seat grew a back and plush covering.
I looked up from the counter to see I was sitting in a large theater, all the seats were red plush and there was rock music playing loudly. No one sat in the same row as I was sitting, but some of the kids from the Tri-C choir were sitting in the row just behind me. I turned to my right, tucking my right leg under me, purple tights, red Converse shoes and all, and faced Armanda and Sarah, ready to brag.
"I've seen Heart TEN TIMES!" I said excitedly. Armanda smiled and nodded happily, excited that I was excited. Sarah just stared at me, as she often does, unhappy with the world and hiding behind her glasses. Sheri appeared from behind them, one row back, and told me how great it was that I had another opportunity.
"Yes! I am so lucky!"
She smiled her motherly smile, and her daughter, Natalie, poked her head out from behind her mother's butt. "Scared ya, didn't I?" We all laughed, and Sheri mentioned it was time to fund raise some more so they had to go.
As they went to leave, I remembered this ground-breaking fundraising strategy, and began making my way out of the row, but then I saw Dave again, sitting across the aisle from my row, eyes straight-ahead and focused, waiting for the show to begin. I stopped to look at him for a moment, and wondered where Jess was. I shook my head, as if to get rid of the side-tracking, and ran up the stairs to the lobby to try to catch Sheri.
As I got to the lobby, there were hundreds of people in golden light, some laughing with teeth as big as Alaska, others somber and creeping about. I pushed my way through them, but then I saw the candy table, and it was my idea! They stole my idea! I was appalled, heart-broken and angry, and stomped toward them in my black Doc Martins, fists clenched, arms swinging back and forth intently, and ready for a fight.
Just as I came upon the smiling crew, who seemed to be Armanda, Sarah, Sheri and Natalie all over again, the ceiling disappeared, and the walls. I stood under the marquee staring at the smoggy sky ahead, wishing a taxi would just take me home. I waved at one, and as he pulled up to me, I climbed into a bus, and we went roaring through the city. All the choir kids were on board, laughing and carrying on. I tried to settle them down, but we were going to meet Heart, meet Ann and Nancy Wilson, and I gave in, smiling and excited that I could discuss the song, "Elevator Beat" from Vanilla Sky with Nancy when I met her.
We drove over a hill, and down near the bottom stood the theater in golden lights. The Heart tour bus sat out front, and everyone began screaming. I tried to get to the front of the bus, to tell the driver to slow down. He had a cigar in his mouth and nasty brown teeth, all I could see in the rear-view mirror. Oh, and he wore a baseball cap.
We came down the hill quickly, and he pulled to the right to park behind the tour bus. I tried to scream above the excited group, to tell him not to hit their bus, but upon impact I pulled into a parking spot just to the right of the small ghetto-mart in Fairuza. It was so dark outside, and despite the gunshots and hoodlums on the streets, the world was too quiet and frightening.
I stepped out of my car, hesitating to leave her because I knew she didn't lock and would certainly get robbed. Still, I saw Dray coming out of the mart, wearing a bandanna and looking like something straight out of Boys in the Hood, dread-locks flopping about as he strutted with his two "bitches," both of whom I recognized but could not place.
I moved slowly, my mouth opening up in slow-warp and low pitched yelling. I all but sang his name, "Drrrrrraaaaaaayyyyyyyeeee!" he kept moving toward his mini-van. I slammed the car door behind me, and began to run after him. Each footstep helped to erase the blue car behind me -- she figured if I was abandoning her, she may as well be non-existent.
I turned left around the front of the van and grabbed Dray's left arm. His eyes darted up to mine, a knife glaring from his right hand. "You know you don' wanna do nothin' stoopid now, do ya, bitc..." his voice stopped with the ghetto bullshit and went up about an octave as he recognized me. "Hey Dawn! What are you doin' in these parts?"
I turned to look about and could not tell him. I thought I had reason, a purpose, but I couldn't figure it out then. I opened my mouth to speak, but he kept talking, and said he had to go "pop some niggas in dere cavities," and made a sick joke about how he was a dentist now. His "bitches" cackled from the back of the van, and he smiled with a gold tooth. I watched, apathetic and numb. Where was I?
Dray and his posse strutted back up onto the sidewalk and headed south into the projects there, knives and clubs spinning in fingertips. I could see remnants of blood on the tips, and became scared. I got up to the sidewalk, then to the door of the market but the Korean man inside turned the "Closed" sign and his eyes were exclamation points as I turned into a pitiful mess of an eight year-old girl beyond them.
I walked my bike across the barren street, hearing cats in alleyways and gunshots from afar. I stood on a triangular section of concrete, something to separate the three-way intersection. I looked to my right and saw a dark alleyway, and to my left stood the ghetto-mart. Straight ahead, a large hill. I knew this was my path, and that just beyond it stood a gold theater and I would be among the choir students and their rock-candies, and bandanna-Dave would find me lovely and ask me out to the prom.
I swung my leg over the bike and began peddling as hard as I could. I got about twenty feet up the hill before I began having breathing problems. There was soot in the air, a heavy smog, and the only light that was penetrating it was the spark from a fired handgun at the bottom of the hill.
My phobia kicked in and I began peddling again, only this time, when I ran out of breath and energy, I was back at the bottom, just a few feet from the triangular concrete again. I was exhausted, and wanted to go home, but I began peddling again.
Half-way up the hill, I began to coast backwards; the gravity pulled me back, a stronger force than my legs or will. I heard men call me "bitch" from below. A huge gang of men gathered there, looking for a fight or a fuck, I wasn't sure which. I didn't want to know, and began peddling furiously. Tears trailed in the wind I created, a storm swirling above my head. Soon tears turned to rain, and rain into hail. I was stuck in the middle of the road and the hill, crying out for help, but no one would answer me. I thought I could hear them if the wind would quiet down, but it wouldn't.
Peddle, peddle, peddle...I saw Dray's club fly past my head in the storm, and knew he'd been murdered. I knew I was next if I didn't get somewhere fast. It was as if I biked on an escalator that was going in the opposite direction though, and I didn't know how much longer I could keep this up.
I woke to the phone ringing, rolled over, and fell back to sleep.
