In a really weird mood today where even the things I got done just feel like a waste of my time. I know it’s a mood because I’m also suffering from the “I am hungry for a type of food that has yet to be invented,” thing I often have. So instead I’ll focus on my dreams.
Last Night’s Dreams
I’m living with a woman in a condemned lighthouse (I can’t tell if we are in a romantic relationship or not). She’s telling me that she has children, but she isn’t able to ever see them again because the state declared her an unfit mother. I start feeling really uncomfortable listening to her story & start to get lost staring at the cracks in the plaster of the wall.
I’m in my car that I had from 1991 to to 1994 (but I feel like the year is closer to 2003) in a gravel parking lot staring at a chainlink fence. The radio is just a radio, no tape deck or cd player, & I’m listening to hip hop station only playing instrumental mixes. My cell phone rings & it’s Bill Horist & as we’re talking he asks what the back ground noise is & I explain to him that hip hop is the closest thing to minimalist drone music I can get on the radio.