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2003-01-29 - 11:10 a.m.

It seems like I write about dreams a lot, but my dreams are so important to me. They influence my mood for the rest of the morning, if not the day.

Last night I dreamt of a certain boy, or should I say, Boy? Let's call him Peter, for the dream's sake. I dreamt of Peter, and in my dream, I was in his apartment, reading notes in pockets. I was a spirit, and I could summon up the images of the meanings behind the notes. I don't remember what the notes said, but there was a boy, and Peter had an emotional crush on him. There was a girl, who was Peter's friend. And one day Peter and the girl were passing notes back and forth in class (college, grad school?) and then they had a fight, afterwards. She kept saying, "It's not that I'm jealous, but" about how much Peter talked about the boy. She obviously was jealous, and she tromped off (combination stamp/stomp/tramp) and Peter was alone, and a little sad.

Then, I show up! I am a photographer, researching and photographing (get this) pictures of Egyptian hieroglyphics in the grafitti art in a small town in upstate New York. To this end, I show up on Peter's doorstep, and ask him if he wants to come take pictures with me. Well, before pictures even happen, there are long, deep discussions, and fierce bouts of making out. Talking and fucking take up 24 hours. Finally, we head out into the woods, wilds, and streets, and I start tracking artists and taking pictures. Incidentally, I'm in some crazy partially period costume - there is a bustle, denim, tapestry, stand up collar (kinda like a ruff, Elizabethan ruff?) and many skirts involved. I'm in bare feet, though. I look unusual, but feel good about that.

Then, I have to go. I have to be back in Rhode Island (huh?) to be with my mom, who is undergoing chemotherapy (only in my dream, not in real life). I don't want to leave Peter, but I need to be with my mother. I get on a train, and I'm sad that when I come back he will have moved on, but I know that probably will happen. And maybe I will be the one who doesn't come back.

The most interesting part of this dream is that throughout the dream, my perspective is almost entirely through Peter. I feel Peter's feelings. Only the begining, when I'm an insightful ghost, and the end, when I'm the dutiful daughter, do I feel my own feelings. It's just a strange dream, because I'm pretty sure the real-life "Peter" is not quite like the dream Peter....but it felt very real, and very strange.

 

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