Sunday, June 27, 2010

Where the the hell did that tattoo come from anyway?

The dream started out with a friend of mine and myself driving down to Lake Park Georgia, taking the back way like we were smoking pot or something, and we saw a radio receiver station the government had set up. I have no idea how I knew it, but I knew the receiver station was set up by the government and I knew the station was there to monitor the music from people’s wireless devices as they travel the roads. The Census Bureau sets up these radio stations, they claim, to get a more accurate count of people. X percentage of people listen to country music, so they can count the traffic going down the road, and therefore know who was there, in a vague sort of way, they claim. We think they are going into people’s emails and we think they also listen in on phone conversations.
We go to visit my friend’s brother who lives in the woods, and who has a deeper distrust of the government than most people who ever lived. He steals parts from the stations, replaces them with pieces he’s modified, and he can tell what they’re hacking into, and how much of the data is stored, and where it’s being sent. He explains to us how all of this works, and how this piece here shows they’re lying because it’s the part that stores personal information. He plugs it into a UBS part and we can see the devices and people who have passed by the station.  There are names, addresses, and some of the people’s names are in different colors.  We head out to steal parts from the station we passed, and my world isn’t the same now. I’m going out to break into a government installation and steal pieces from it.

As we’re heading out I envision what it would be like to win the lottery and buy a bunch of land out in the country. I could buy land out here cheap, and as we pass houses I wonder if any of them are for sale. We past an enormous house and it’s long abandoned, like the one South of the intersection of the Madison Highway and the Greenville Highway in Brooks County Georgia. I pass it on my way home every day and I want to put up a sign that says, “SAVE THIS HOUSE!” The enormous house in the dream isn’t real, isn’t at all proportional, with the roof being almost like one draw by a child and massive as the superdome, but the house itself is really big. It’s run down, but at the same time, it is magnificent. There’s a dog run, a place like an inner porch between two wings of the house and I can see someone sitting there. The roof is sagging and I know it’s just a matter of time before it’s over for that house and there will never be another like it. That is really common in South Georgia; there are a lot of great old houses falling apart from neglect.

In the dream we have to stop because there is a bridge project going on, and my friend’s brother wants to talk to someone he knows on the crew. There are bikini clad women sunning themselves around the project, and one of them is lying inside the flanges of an H-beam. The woman is quite beautiful, and I stop to talk to her. She’s tanned, sweaty, and smell good. There’s a tattoo of a dragonfly on one of her breasts, and I ask her if I can see the part covered by her top. She laughs but refuses. I take my shirt off to show her my tattoo, and I explain to her what it means, and she likes it. She asks about the other one, and suddenly there is another tattoo, this one on my right side, and it looks like a black sun with an inscription around it. The symbols aren’t in English and I have no idea what they mean. The woman asks what it says, and I tell her I really do not know.  She’s puzzled by this and wants to know how I can have a tattoo that I cannot explain. I tell her I’ve never seen it before, and that really freaks her out. I am vaguely concerned I have just talked her out of showing me her breast, but I’m more concerned as to why I have a tattoo I’ve never seen.
It does occur to me this is all a dream. I look at the tattoo, look at my hands, take a deep breath, and I can smell things, feel things, see details and everything is as real as what you’re seeing right now. The woman traces the symbols with her finger and I can feel her touch on my flesh, feel my body react to it, and I can smell the beer on her, the sunblock on her body, and I ask her if I can see her dragonfly. We step behind a stack of concrete forms and she stands there and allows me to untie her top, and look at her tattoo. It’s a multicolored thing, but blue predominates.  I trace a finger along the dragonfly’s wings and the woman likes it. She covers up when someone else walks by, but she gives me her phone number, written on a tag that comes with bundles of steel.
We cannot find the station again, but we drive by a series of brick stores with nothing but the facades intact, and grass growing inside of them. I recognize this as a former dreamscape I’ve had before, and I become confused as to where I am, or what is happening. I ask the driver to stop and let me out of the truck, and suddenly nothing is familiar and the people are speaking a language I cannot understand at all. I know the building in front of me, and I can clearly remember a woman arguing with me at the door.

Take Care,
Mike

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