Rowdy’s Dream Blog #323: Alien Embryos
My sister and I search a building for alien embryos. We find a lot of them. Our mother arrives to show us her new, high quality, blue-tinged, sticky-backed, crisp register tape she got from the candy machine.
Many exotic birds visit our small Frida-Kahlo-esque courtyard, but none so beautiful as the magnificent blue bunting. It is as large as a pigeon but with a golden breast and long blue tail feathers. It also has the face and long, curly blond hair of a young girl.
I attend a remedial jobs class that is full of rowdy homeless people. We sit at school desks. The bell rings and a short man with a crew cut gets up and faces the class—he is the professor. He invites us all to come up and get some flyers. I collect one of each, including instructions on how to become a porn star. I return to my seat. A girl dressed in white asks me about my recording contract. I correct her, saying that I did make a record, but did not have a record deal. A guy I know is outside in the snow with his legs across the train tracks, waiting for a train to come. There is already blood in the snow.
Somehow I have the key to the Post Office, which I use to open the main door and drop off some mail. Immediately on my heels, people start to come in after me. I suppose now I’ll have to stay.
G and I lead our two dogs through darkened hallways lined with folding chairs. We discover that wolves and badgers are sleeping under them. There is much exploratory, reciprocal sniffing, but no growling. We encounter two large pit bulls. As we pass them, I feel a pit bull’s muzzle pressed against the small of my back, but I continue walking calmly towards the door. We enter a well-lit room filled with people dressed in togas. A cheerful woman tells us that we are about to be treated to a special performance. We sit on sheet-covered bleachers, dressed in togas and wait for the show to begin.
I am alone in Egypt, riding in a cab driven by Gopardo. We are driving through a heavy snowstorm. The streets are icy and the winds are howling. We come to a stop sign and merge onto a highway with a 60 percent grade. The one-lane road climbs straight up the side of a huge, pink and orange sandstone mountain. We are soon above the storm and climbing in a line of other cars past high, billowing clouds bathed in sunset colors. I can feel we are beginning to slow down and I worry that if we slow to a stop we’ll start to slip backwards. I voice my complaint to Gopardo. We finally arrive on top in a small village. I see the Mayor and another city official fishing by the road over a cliff. They get their lines tangled together and in their struggle to get them free, they both slip off their perches and dangle in the air, clinging to their poles. Outside on firm ground, I want to go into the hotel and get a room, but looking down I see that I have bare feet. I hope that my dad was able to retrieve my stuff for me from my last hotel room. Looking down again, I see that I am now wearing my crocks. He must have been successful. I enter a small Greek restaurant and sit down at a picnic table with G and her dad. The menu, when opened, contains small packets of dates and almonds wrapped in clear plastic. I see my co-worker, M, sitting on the floor. I hand him a menu. He explains he can’t be bothered with such small orders. The owner woman emerges from the kitchen carrying a large, cloth-wrapped bundle for him containing wheels of cheese and giant rounds of bread filled with layers of butter and olives.
I visit the girls in the apartment to our right. They tell me that two girls, a blonde and a redhead, are using Ted's vacant apartment to our left. I knock and ring the bell. The door is made of cement and is sealed shut. I can see them moving around inside. My sister comes out of our apartment with cuts on her face. She has been in a fight with a Best Buy salesgirl. The fight started over a misunderstanding that a DVD would capture the details of her private life.
G and I embark on a freeway trip in separate vehicles. I lead the way in my gratified coupe. I stop at a roadside diner and go inside. The surly teen behind the counter blows snot at me through a straw, smirks and asks how he can help me. I jump over the counter and pick him up by his shirt, which is full of corn flakes. They crumble and crumbs rain out on the floor. I hock up a big loogie, but decide instead to just set him back down. As I do, he jumps up about four feet in the air. I turn to leave and start out toward my car. Outside, I see the old restaurant inspector leaning against the wall around back, so I head toward him. Just then ex-girlfriend, R, and her family arrive. We all say hello to each other, coolly, and they head inside. The inspector is younger now. He wears a sharkskin, velvet-lapeled suit jacket and he's smoking. I start to tell him about the incident inside. He interrupts me and asks if it was the girl who did it. I tell him yes, having now forgotten the facts.