I've been dreaming about hermaphrodites. I don't know what the dream books say, but I think it has something to do with trying to please everyone. Or maybe it's an identity crisis... not fitting in with one side or the other.
I'm at the beach with my mother. A friend of a friend I met recently at a party is there and s/he has a twin. My mom keeps trying to peek under the bathing suits of the twins because she simply must know who is what.
I'm in high school again, and I have to take gym. We are doing a tennis unit, and I am attempting to play, except there aren't enough rackets to go around. On the tennis court, there is an invisible bubble of space that is searingly hot. Only one other girl and I seem to notice. Everyone else is able to play through the bubble of space without a care. In the dressing room, the girl turns out to be neither and both.
1/07/2008
Trapped c. December 2007
I'm at summer camp orientation, and we're attending a welcome concert. The music is very conceptual and comes from a sculpture made from broken C. Jere parts and cymbals.
There are Christmas cookies from a doctor's office. The doctor begs us to finish eating them so that he and his colleague don't eat them all.
My roommates are the same as my sophomore year in college. I can't stand the decor. There's a gate to each suite with very crafty and whimsical metal spirals and turquoise and goldenrod paint. Someone has left behind a really attractive bedroom set and vanity with Moroccan white filigree woodwork, but I didn't claim it in time.
Now it's the next day and we're being introduced to a course in working with large and exotic animals. First, we attend a seminar on the evolution of the egg.
We watch a film of a marsupial/wildcat emerging from an egg resembling a hybrid of large garlic clove and a venus flytrap. As the baby emerges from the egg, a long tongue reaches out from the egg and cleans the baby's fur. Another shows an animal unpeeling itself from its banana shaped egg.
I'm at a picnic table discussing the summer's course offerings with the instructors. I am hoping to incorporate more embroidery or cross-stitch into the coursework. The sea mammal instructor wants someone to work on redesigning the diving shoes because she thinks there's a burgeoning market for them, and she also wants some students to focus on sales of exotic sea mammals. A camp counselor speaks up; no one wants to study sales and marketing during summer camp. I mention that a lot of the students are hippie musicians and might be really into learning how to embroider their own guitar straps. Someone suggests a cupcake workshop, and I'm all for it. We could study various frosting techniques, and sell them at a charity event.
Now for the diving demonstration. We all put on our diving shoes (they look like Crocs) and get into harnesses attached to the rafters by fishing line. I'm not really into it but I jump in and try to make friends with the manatees. As we're all swimming around in the pool, I am anxious about the fishing lines getting tangled. I want to challenge myself and sign up for this course, but I don't think I'll enjoy it.
After class, I return my diving shoes at the counter and re-label them with the size: 20.5. I go to join up with my group for the bus back.
I've taken a wrong turn, and now I'm stuck in someone's imagination. I can't control my steps because rubber socks have wrapped themselves around my feet: one red and one green. They pull me in a different direction against my will.
The red and green socks pull me into a salon for a manicure, but the manicure is more like being licked by squids and rubbed with tentacles dipped in fish oil. After I leave I get even more lost and come across a rehearsal of aerial dancers. Next is a room full of Japanese drummers.
In the next room, tiny dusty women with baby-like proportions are harvesting cacao beans. The shells of the cacao beans look like Rice Chex. I hop on the next tram that I think is the one that'll get me back to the dorm. The tram goes over a Muppets-type musical farmland. Bales of hay are singing.
On a tram, I try to find someone who can help me call the registrar to get me out of this other person's imagination. I pick up the phone to talk to the conductor, who in turn, connects me to the registrar. They confirm the mistaken identity and I wake up.
My roommates are the same as my sophomore year in college. I can't stand the decor. There's a gate to each suite with very crafty and whimsical metal spirals and turquoise and goldenrod paint. Someone has left behind a really attractive bedroom set and vanity with Moroccan white filigree woodwork, but I didn't claim it in time.
Now it's the next day and we're being introduced to a course in working with large and exotic animals. First, we attend a seminar on the evolution of the egg.
I'm at a picnic table discussing the summer's course offerings with the instructors. I am hoping to incorporate more embroidery or cross-stitch into the coursework. The sea mammal instructor wants someone to work on redesigning the diving shoes because she thinks there's a burgeoning market for them, and she also wants some students to focus on sales of exotic sea mammals. A camp counselor speaks up; no one wants to study sales and marketing during summer camp. I mention that a lot of the students are hippie musicians and might be really into learning how to embroider their own guitar straps. Someone suggests a cupcake workshop, and I'm all for it. We could study various frosting techniques, and sell them at a charity event.
Now for the diving demonstration. We all put on our diving shoes (they look like Crocs) and get into harnesses attached to the rafters by fishing line. I'm not really into it but I jump in and try to make friends with the manatees. As we're all swimming around in the pool, I am anxious about the fishing lines getting tangled. I want to challenge myself and sign up for this course, but I don't think I'll enjoy it.
After class, I return my diving shoes at the counter and re-label them with the size: 20.5. I go to join up with my group for the bus back.
I've taken a wrong turn, and now I'm stuck in someone's imagination. I can't control my steps because rubber socks have wrapped themselves around my feet: one red and one green. They pull me in a different direction against my will.
The red and green socks pull me into a salon for a manicure, but the manicure is more like being licked by squids and rubbed with tentacles dipped in fish oil. After I leave I get even more lost and come across a rehearsal of aerial dancers. Next is a room full of Japanese drummers.
In the next room, tiny dusty women with baby-like proportions are harvesting cacao beans. The shells of the cacao beans look like Rice Chex. I hop on the next tram that I think is the one that'll get me back to the dorm. The tram goes over a Muppets-type musical farmland. Bales of hay are singing.
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