I was in Miranda Hobbes‘ (yes of Sex in the City) house and there was this big party going down. Paintings of my friend Mark were up on this high shelf and people were inquiring about them. Before long we all were sitting having cocktails and suddenly, Rose, this girl I dated in high school (yes, I dated a girl!), sits down beside me and says hi. I kept poking her in the shoulder to see if she was real; it was so vivid. She started talking about where life had taken her, and I started to point out the successes I have had, but thought better of it and just kept poking her shoulder. I just kept thinking, ‘How can you be sitting here? You died years ago in a car crash’.

Just as that thought bounced around my mind, a large brigade of fire dancers walked through the crowd, not unlike when I saw Pigface perform in San Jose years ago. And before I knew it, I was in a parking lot with Rose, on a mission to secure cookies from Wegman’s (a Rochester based supermarket chain). She mentioned that she still had her discount from working there so we hoofed it to the door past a pissy security guard, who was surprisingly rather young.

Once in the store, she pocketed a cookie as her ‘discount’ allowed her to have a free one, and we took the other up to the register, which we were to have a small discount on as well. We paid for it and the girl at the cash register nonchalantly says ‘Here’s your cookie, and now I have to arrest you’. We were dumbfounded and Rose immediately started in with ‘why?’ The cashier responded that they have been through this several times, and just like last time, she had to arrest her (presumably for the pocketed freebie).

I poked Rose again and said, “You know, dead people can’t be arrested.” She looked down in that way she always did when she realized a truth that would rather stay unknown. The cashier then turns to me and says ‘Well, then, you would be responsible.’

My eyes caught with Rose’s and it was clear that we had to run. Out of Wegman’s in a blur the security guard screamed at us. I recall he had a gun, though no shots were fired. As sirens wailed in the distance coming for us, we just about made it to the car and stopped for a pause. Thinking of what to do next it was suddenly clear: Wake up.

– – –

Rose was one of the few friends I had in High School. We went on a couple of those dates that you go on when you are fifteen or so and trying to figure out how the game works. I pretty much knew I was gay at the time, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Even though we hung out a bit in college, we soon lost contact when I went to to California, Rose to Arizona or New Mexico (I don’t recall which). She had this fun ‘alternative’ spunk to her and while we weren’t really close, we had a commonality in music as well as alternative lifestyles (she dated girls for a spell, though it’s unknown to me of her exact orientation). I remember she shaved her head once and as it was growing back, she dyed it bright green. My mom forever associated her with ‘the girl that showed up with green hair’ at my front door, though she liked her.

It is almost eight years since Rose was in a fatal car crash. I don’t really know the specifics, but I remember my friend Colleen contacting me with the news. I felt weird reminiscing about days of adolescence with my friend. It’s not that I had any regrets of not staying in contact or the like, I mean, people often come and go throughout your life, but you just get this weird feeling. I may be wrong, but I think Rose was studying to be a psychiatrist, and I think she would have been successful at that.

My dreams are always vivid, and as such, I woke up rather spooked today. It is comical at times, I can wake up furious at someone because of what they did in a dream and the emotion can linger hours afterward. I know it’s totally irrational, and I’ve learned to control these feelings, but I’m sure Rose will be haunting me today; just like the day I heard of her passing. It seems rather fitting heading to Deathguild tonight to dance as she wanders through my mind.

Conversations with Tonka ..::2::..

Better than a rowboat to China:


I had a bad dream a few nights ago. Yes, you can call it a nightmare.

I was in a friend of the family’s new condo, and it was here in San Francisco. The family friend was sleeping, oddly enough his wife wasn’t in the picture. My mom was also there, asleep on the couch and as soon as I can remember, I see funnel clouds descending from the sky… actually a bunch of them (there were big glass windows to see out of).

Funny that in a city known for earthquakes my mind went to tornadoes.

So the place starts rocking, no, more tilting like a spinning top ready to fall over. There was this sculpture in one of the rooms that I created (not during this dream, it was just one of my pieces) with moving parts, not unlike a pendulum. I watched it swing around to show just how far the building was moving around, particularly a top piece yellow and chartreuse, that when it was perfectly horizontal meant I was in real trouble.

I recall running into an empty room and thinking ‘this feels just like being drunk’ (the bad kind) and running back out of that room. The condo was pretty sizeable, I ran around in a panic for some time, knowing at any time the foundation would give way and I would be a mingle of cement and glass soup on the street, another casualty of mother nature.

I also recall some other rooms in the condo while running around that were closed off, and for some reason I caught the notion that this is were the friend kept his porn.

I’m pretty sure my father was some where in the mix, but that might be from the (immediately?) previous dream which he and my mother were definitely in, along with the family friend as he was showing off his new deck that converts into a spa on button press. Yes, a deck that converts into a spa… kinda like one of those hidden pool things. This wasn’t in the condo though.

Then the swaying stopped and it cleared up. Soon after the son of the family friend came walking in and I said ‘Hi! Is the wife and child here too?’ He replied yes. This other three part family came in (Mother, Father, and Son) and asked about the tornadoes. I immediately launched into my panic mood again in descriptions of the ordeal and talking about the sculpture with the top piece. I was so exasperated talking about the experience I could hardly breathe.

And that was it.

My mind has drifted to sculpture on more than one occasion with several false starts. Maybe I will try my hand at it again. I seem to have this yellow and chartreuse piece in mind…