this blog page, though it's got a bunch of socio-political commentary on it, is essentially a documentation of my journey in terms of writing this book on the michael... so of COURSE i am going to continue this journey by documenting my dreams... as the solemn violins surround michael's ode to a rat (YES, i am listening to 'ben', and it makes me CRY too) i think about how i just wrote a friend of mine about the dreams i've had about michael being surrounded with some sort of anxiety, and that i haven't had any dreams with him in them for a while (even though i've had PLENTY of anxiety in my life as of late).
and of course i ended up having a dream with him in it, before i woke up the next day.
this time the location was in the apartment i grew up in, in the bronx. the apartment wasn't filled with much, except for a couple of beds and a bunch of fabric. in the dream, michael looked just like he did in 1984. my sister was in the dream as well, and all three of us were in the room which used to be our parents' room. i think the room was sea green, just like it was when we were kids. she was on the floor, possibly cutting some fabric, i was on the queen-sized bed, possibly writing something, and michael was to the right of me, half standing and half on the bed. he was saying something to me, but it all seemed to be a blur.
i left michael in mid-conversation to go into the room which used to be the room my sister and i shared. this room was white (just like it had been when we were kids) and it had paper everywhere, crumpled. there were also black pieces of fabric everywhere... i look down on the floor, close to the entrance of the room, and a tank was broken. i look a couple of feet in front of me, and there was a turtle, hovering over a garter snake, trying to attack the snake. they were fighting by a closet door close to the entrance door, with a mirror on it. watching the turtle beat up the snake made me feel ill, and i ran back into the room michael and my sister were in, screaming. michael is on the opposite end of the room where the bed is, and his back is turned to me. i put my hand on his shoulder, screaming about the turtle and the snake.
then i wake up.
Black History Month special
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