dreams: September 27, 1998
the meditative therapy of Capoeira
I'm going to do a Capoeira session with a group of people. It is being led by Amitabha (now called Marie), as well as Sage (not Weil) and others. Sue Jaffe, Sue Bouman, and Phoebe are also in the class. We're all getting dressed, wearing special socks that have one big gap/hole on the side of each heel. We are also wearing a particular type of tight exercise pants that end at the knees. We all sit down on soft fabric circular mats on the floor. Each person sits a few feet from the others around them. A male leader asks us to sit still and remember a painful experience; we are asked to FEEL the memory. I feel an aversion to doing the exercise but know it would be a good thing for me to do.
chain-smoking, partying, writing
NEXT, I'm at home in the living room. Phoebe is talking to me about how we arranged to go out to dinner together, along with my "boyfriend," Eddie. She wants to leave now, like we planned. I call him but get no answer. He's not at his work either (a restaurant?). I tell Phoebe that she and I can just go together now. We're going to a fancy place for gourmet food. I'm standing in the front of the restaurant at a deli case. Inside are special desserts. The person in front of me just ordered the Truffle Platter: a silver plate of large delicate chocolate truffles. It had a tag of $5. I ask the young woman behind the glass case if she has any more. She says no. I'm frustrated. Then I realize that it was $5 per truffle -- too expensive for me anyways. The other choices are all chocolate cakes, which is not really what I want. I'm playing Scrabble with three other people. The format is different than usual, for all the letter tiles are already on the board. When it's your turn, you choose what letters you want to use and then form your own word somewhere on the board. I'm the last one to go. While the others are going, I look down and realize that my best choice would be to take the letters that form "STOWAWAY." Lots of points. I keep hoping that nobody will take any of those letters before my turn. As the others go, I look up some of their words in a dictionary to verify. The dictionary that I'm using is a stylish trendy book that doesn't have definitions -- only listings of what are "real" words. It has fancy font and big spaces between words. I wish there were definitions. My wish comes true; all the letters I want are left for me to use on my turn. There's a big gap on the left part of the board. I'm glad there's room. I break my word into two vertical words that are placed next to each other:
SA
TW
OA
WYI look at "OA" and see that some of the horizontal two-letter words aren't really words. I hope no one notices.
Then I'm back at the house. I look on the table for today's mail. I see two huge flat packages for me. One is from Granddaddy, and the other is from Sierra's family (Britt, David, Cathy).
Mom comes up through the backyard onto the backporch. I'm sitting in the breakfast nook at the window. John goes out there to talk to her. Then they're both hugging. Both are crying too. I see a genuine moment, with defenses down. Apology and forgiveness. John says something about her being a mother; he means it in kindness, but she takes it the wrong way (like she didn't want to think of herself as a mother because then she'd have to acknowledge that Phoebe and I exist). Her cold, mean walls come back up. She physically pushes John away. I say some snide remark to her (through the open window). She stomps down the back stairs back through the garden. She's holding a cigarette. I yell something about her being a smoker. "Lynn Gates is a chain-smoker!" I shout at the top of my lungs several times. Suddenly others in the neighborhood hear me and pounce on Mom. It's illegal, so she's being arrested. There's a big scramble/fight with others in Vivi's backyard.
Then I'm at a party. When I get there, Sierra (the hostess?) tells me that each guest may have 5 drinks that night. I wonder to myself if five drinks would be enough to get me drunk.
I go into another room. People are sitting and writing books. Thomas Milsom is there. We talk awhile. I realize how part of my heart is still attached; I used to be so in love with him, and I still get a zing. But now I see that he's contentious, thinking he knows everything. We look at a pile of books against the wall that have already been published. I know one of them is mine. It was made for a book project that Amy Dalton did. She designed the covers, which I don't really like. Thomas shows me one of his books.
I turn around and see Jess McFarland sitting on my right. I put my arm around her, wanting to give her the love I feel for her (as well as express it for the others around us to see). I ask her how she's doing. Okay, she says. I look down at her writing. I see a sentence about someone who is "cumming." At first I think it's his name, but then I realize it's a sexual term.
I get up and walk to the bathroom. The party is very uppity/trendy/popular. The hostess is a gorgeous young woman who looks like Brooke Shields. Yet she's cold to everyone except those she thinks are the most rich and popular in the world. I go into the bathroom. Those who are employed for food service MUST be dressed in a certain off-white uniform to distinguish themselves. They aren't treated as real people by the guests.
Then I'm going down Third Street, and Thomas and some other people pass by me, walking the other way. I head down to a pretty building across the tracks, near "A" Street; it's leased out for various services (like the Siskiyou Barn). I see Anna-Rose outside, walking her bike. Yay! She drops the bike when she sees me, running over to say hello. We hug. I ask her if she's read my dream about her and her family. Yes, she has.
Now we're inside the building. I ask her if her parents/family belong to a group of any kind. She says yes, they're Unitarian. It means that they all support each other, helping to pay their social security taxes and other costs.
- FIN -
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