dreams: August 10, 1999

sisterly love and anger

Juke is an amazing architect and a very incredible man. I'm looking at pictures of his stuff and the places he has designed. I'm in awe. I like it a lot. One place is like a cave, warm and golden. It has steps up to the ceiling.

I'm getting hired to do a print computer design job for a small company. I'm in an office. The person is showing me the delicate important process I'm supposed to follow, printing out the stuff onto plastic lines. It's a whole computer process. When I do it, I'll be paid lots of money. (They're talking about up to a million.)

I'm back in front of my computer. I know I should do the work since I have a lot to do. Yet I have a desire to look at porn and jill off. I'm horny. My computer is nice.

Then I'm at the house, sitting on the couch. Phoebe is in front of me. She's asleep or almost in a coma. Her eyes are closed, and her hair is very long, pulled back from her face. She seems quite young. My hands are on her forehead and her throat and her heart, doing Reiki. I feel SO much love and compassion for her. I really, really want to heal her and give her the energy she needs. I'm telling someone else about how beautiful she is, aware that she'll probably subconsciously absorb it. There is some significance of a rose.

Then I'm in the kitchen with John. He's making lots of soup. Lots of whole vegetables are in the pot, and he's stirring them. I'm very stressed out because I have so much to do. I still have that work project to do on my computer. Plus I have all my end-of-the-semester work to do at Swat. I think about how July 8th is the end, and that must be next week since today is July 2nd or so. (I'm now in the bathroom as I think about this.)

Back in the kitchen, I ask John if this soup can be for Vivi. She asked me to make a soup for her. She needs it, and it's a job for me to do. She asked me to do it a long time ago, and I haven't done it yet. He says no; it's for our family. This angers me. I say I need to make a soup for Vivi. John says that Phoebe wants this soup. I am angry, saying I've made so many soups for Phoebe before, when really I should've just made Vivi's. I say I've used my own money to buy so many vegetables and now I'm going to have to go buy more. I'm mad and stressed. I'm on the back porch of the house. I see my red hooded sweatshirt lying on the floor with some clothes. It looks like it's been out here for a while now. Phoebe had borrowed it. I'm angry that she left it out here unprotected. I also see my grey hooded sweatshirt that Phoebe had borrowed as well, which makes me even more mad. I'm fuming. I'm ranting to John about how Phoebe should not have left my stuff out here and how she's so irresponsible. I need to release my fury. I grab a long, grey, foam tube and start whacking it around the porch. But it's not concrete enough for me. It's not helping me to have any release. So I grab a wooden chair and smash it down on the porch. I'm screaming. John is watching. It is semi-satisfying, though I'm still incredibly mad. I smash the chair down on the glass table, splintering pieces of glass off of it with each blow. It gives me more release. It feels good to involve my body in this process.

Then I go inside. Troy is standing near the front door. (The couch is up against the front wall like it used to be.) I go up to him and hug him, telling him how mad I am at Phoebe. It feels good to hug Troy. He's much taller than me. I have my arms wrapped around his slender waist.

- FIN -

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