The two local Heathers -- dreams
1:16 AM 3/8/2006
I was walking outdoors on a cloudy day, it was spring or fall, the grass was green. Seemed I was trudging along in this line of people, walking along outdoors, it was kind of hard going, up-hill to some extent, the ground was a little wet and the earth somewhat sogged which slowed things down a bit. Then Heather L was walking next to me, and a little in front of me. She wore an off-white color trenchcoat. She reminded me of the Americans of times past, which seems used to be as common as dandelions, who were a friend in need, patient and helpful with a friend's faults. It was as if this was hard on me, this marching along outdoors, and Heather L was there to be helpful and friendly with someone for whom things were hard, which was refreshing seeing how so many people like to test people for whom things are hard as opposed to be helpful with people for who things are hard or difficult. So she was my friend, and whenever I looked at the back of her head, as she walked along ahead of me, she could feel it. I looked at the back of her head and she turned around to look at me, her hair was the shade of yellow close to brown, boyishly short, almost straight, her face looked refreshingly wide, wider than in real life, and I felt glad I had a friend who I could psychically keep in touch with. Something about my psychic connection with her reminded me of the intricate architecture of Mont St. Michel, which I used as a subject in this poster I made, in which through a medieval window you see the cathedral out there on a hill. Yet it seemed that there was something actually tragic about what was happening to me and to her. Seems the media would have you believe that nothing actually tragic ever happens to anyone, nobody is in danger of anything tragic happening to them, that at least nobody worth his salt is in danger of tragedy or in tragedy, yet seemed there was real tragedy involved, not overpowering tragedy but tragedy nevertheless.
5:54 PM 1/31/2006
I met Heather from Frosty's which is now the Lincoln in some other city. Turns out she was a Boston University student. But the prejudice against her in real life I guess in my own mind had been that she was low class from Frosty's. I met her in some other city and we rolled around in the grass alot and stuff.
She was like a puppy to me. She was more enthused about me than I was about her but I liked her alot, I felt emotion for her, for the first time in along time there was emotion, love, not merely physical attraction. I told her that she had an Iron Age body build, that in Bible times the dominant people were tall and strong like her.
Alot of guys seemed to be into her...but she was into me...in the dream John Silber was a friend of mine so her being from BU meant she was connected to me...we were walking around some university campus arm in arm, she was the instigator of it all, it was like me and Anne D in real ife. She was a Catholic. I told her about how the catholics at Harvard were nice..I boasted about my car, about my Brazil national team level abilities in soccer...
We passed by my father, who let's face it is in the eyes of many unimpressive looking...I said hy to him but hurried on with her, I was afraid if she found out he was my dad our relationship would fall apart...the truth began to come out to her about my ancestry...I told her I was half India-Indian, that my mother was British, Irish, and American Indian...I boasted about how the Anglo-Indians were a special people, how they had won more Victoria Crosses per capita than any other group, how the Victoria Cross was like the medal of honor...I had not told her yet that the little Indian man we passed by was my dad, but, I thought maybe she was beginning to guess it with the truth coming out about my ancestry and stuff...
The dream was beginning to come to an end, I was getting close to the time when I would wake up...I felt like I was becoming her puppy, whereas it had started out she was my puppy, I felt I was losing my grip on her, I felt like it was us encountering my dad, or my race that was causing this loss of a grip on her...
I was walking somewhere with her, I was beginning to feel like I was following her not that we were going somewhere together...we went into this room where there were these college students, one was a woman from Harvard...Heather from Frosty's/Lincoln gave me an autographed copy of a little paperback she had written...I was beginning to panic because she had not given me her name, her contact info, I did not realize that of course her name would be in the book she had written...she sat down in these bleacher like seats in the carpeted comfy room, this white guy behind her who wore granny glasses and had bushy light brown hair began to flirt with her, he looked like this woman in the room who was from Harvard...the dream ended with me feeling like passing by my dad, the possibility introduced into her mind that that man was my dad, was something that had caused me to begin to lose my power over her...Oh, and when I woke up, the song running through my head, was "Stone love" by Diana Ross and the Supremes...When I awoke I was thinking of how it seems Harvard has acted antropomorphically with me, meaning Harvard has acted like a man without a sense of fair play competing for a woman, and how it is inappropriate for an institution to behave in such fashion with an individual.
I was walking outdoors on a cloudy day, it was spring or fall, the grass was green. Seemed I was trudging along in this line of people, walking along outdoors, it was kind of hard going, up-hill to some extent, the ground was a little wet and the earth somewhat sogged which slowed things down a bit. Then Heather L was walking next to me, and a little in front of me. She wore an off-white color trenchcoat. She reminded me of the Americans of times past, which seems used to be as common as dandelions, who were a friend in need, patient and helpful with a friend's faults. It was as if this was hard on me, this marching along outdoors, and Heather L was there to be helpful and friendly with someone for whom things were hard, which was refreshing seeing how so many people like to test people for whom things are hard as opposed to be helpful with people for who things are hard or difficult. So she was my friend, and whenever I looked at the back of her head, as she walked along ahead of me, she could feel it. I looked at the back of her head and she turned around to look at me, her hair was the shade of yellow close to brown, boyishly short, almost straight, her face looked refreshingly wide, wider than in real life, and I felt glad I had a friend who I could psychically keep in touch with. Something about my psychic connection with her reminded me of the intricate architecture of Mont St. Michel, which I used as a subject in this poster I made, in which through a medieval window you see the cathedral out there on a hill. Yet it seemed that there was something actually tragic about what was happening to me and to her. Seems the media would have you believe that nothing actually tragic ever happens to anyone, nobody is in danger of anything tragic happening to them, that at least nobody worth his salt is in danger of tragedy or in tragedy, yet seemed there was real tragedy involved, not overpowering tragedy but tragedy nevertheless.
5:54 PM 1/31/2006
I met Heather from Frosty's which is now the Lincoln in some other city. Turns out she was a Boston University student. But the prejudice against her in real life I guess in my own mind had been that she was low class from Frosty's. I met her in some other city and we rolled around in the grass alot and stuff.
She was like a puppy to me. She was more enthused about me than I was about her but I liked her alot, I felt emotion for her, for the first time in along time there was emotion, love, not merely physical attraction. I told her that she had an Iron Age body build, that in Bible times the dominant people were tall and strong like her.
Alot of guys seemed to be into her...but she was into me...in the dream John Silber was a friend of mine so her being from BU meant she was connected to me...we were walking around some university campus arm in arm, she was the instigator of it all, it was like me and Anne D in real ife. She was a Catholic. I told her about how the catholics at Harvard were nice..I boasted about my car, about my Brazil national team level abilities in soccer...
We passed by my father, who let's face it is in the eyes of many unimpressive looking...I said hy to him but hurried on with her, I was afraid if she found out he was my dad our relationship would fall apart...the truth began to come out to her about my ancestry...I told her I was half India-Indian, that my mother was British, Irish, and American Indian...I boasted about how the Anglo-Indians were a special people, how they had won more Victoria Crosses per capita than any other group, how the Victoria Cross was like the medal of honor...I had not told her yet that the little Indian man we passed by was my dad, but, I thought maybe she was beginning to guess it with the truth coming out about my ancestry and stuff...
The dream was beginning to come to an end, I was getting close to the time when I would wake up...I felt like I was becoming her puppy, whereas it had started out she was my puppy, I felt I was losing my grip on her, I felt like it was us encountering my dad, or my race that was causing this loss of a grip on her...
I was walking somewhere with her, I was beginning to feel like I was following her not that we were going somewhere together...we went into this room where there were these college students, one was a woman from Harvard...Heather from Frosty's/Lincoln gave me an autographed copy of a little paperback she had written...I was beginning to panic because she had not given me her name, her contact info, I did not realize that of course her name would be in the book she had written...she sat down in these bleacher like seats in the carpeted comfy room, this white guy behind her who wore granny glasses and had bushy light brown hair began to flirt with her, he looked like this woman in the room who was from Harvard...the dream ended with me feeling like passing by my dad, the possibility introduced into her mind that that man was my dad, was something that had caused me to begin to lose my power over her...Oh, and when I woke up, the song running through my head, was "Stone love" by Diana Ross and the Supremes...When I awoke I was thinking of how it seems Harvard has acted antropomorphically with me, meaning Harvard has acted like a man without a sense of fair play competing for a woman, and how it is inappropriate for an institution to behave in such fashion with an individual.
posted by David Virgil at 12:30 AM
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