Redhead and Techno-temple

Long red haired fellow I knew, a jolly sorta guy, named Daniel and I are climbing a silky red rope ladder into the air. Some sort of festival. I’m terrified; looking down I notice we are hundreds maybe thousands of feet from the ground. He notices I’m scared and detaches the ladder somehow to show me something fun. We fly through the air holding on to the silks; we fuck midair.

I’m walking alongside a freeway trying to find the festival/friends again. Scene changes and I’m in some carpeted techno-temple. An electronic flying device lifts me and ??? to the “altar” area of the room, where the priestess, clearly equipped with cybernetic technology, congratulates me in reaching the afterlife. I can’t fully understand her language but the gist of it is I have entered a higher plane of existence…She gives me a straw woven basket lid looking thing to carry my lower half while the flying device lifts me away from her and I land in a location with an escalator, knowing I must enter and face some sort of challenge on the upper floor.

I go in. Enter some platinum coated rooms with blinking lights and such all over. Feeling pretty confident.  I have a laser gun and shoot several oncoming creatures, many are both humanoid and robotic. I face the final guy who has a pointy bearded triangular head and two opaque lenses on the top of his head for eyes. I kill or incapacitate him.

Go back down to the main floor. Am feeling good and all until the guy I thought I just killed turns up. I don’t have any of my weapons. He shows me a maplike paper with a few holes punched out of it, indicating that these are the times and places where he has died, saying that I will have to experience it sooner than later. He provided me this opportunity by plunging his needle like fingers into my nose and throat. I am oddly relieved as all this happens.

Soaring in the woven basket lid over a great river in a canyon…Wondering how much more I will get to do knowing I may die and undie infinitely.

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Kink, Graffiti, and a Rabid Dog

My university has morphed to the size of a national park. I am running through nature in search of a secret hideout I have made to hide from my irl ex-lover Paul. In flight I ponder my mixed feelings for the kinky sex we share. On one hand, I fear and loathe having certain boundaries crossed by him. Yet despite leaving him several times, I still seek his particular brand of sexual pain. With him I experience a sense of utter surrender that I have found nowhere else in my life.

He finds me in the forest. I lay with him for a little bit….


I have painted something on a lecture hall chalkboard in the middle of the night. Later, I am confronted by Anya, one of my art professors, who very calmly asks me if I did it. She seems to be implying that it has been well received and people are curious to find the creator. I stand silent before her, weighing in one hand the prospect of fame-filled career and the other, the freedom of certain anonymity.

In real life, I have left university for about a month now, where I have been studying art. Instead of completing my final class required for the completion of my degree – not an art class, but a general ed requirement to be taken over the summer- I have run off with a stranger who offered me a life on the road. I have been living/loving in the desert for the past few weeks and we are now traveling north, having reached a major city in the northern area of my state. The person I have been traveling with espouses an artistic life that doesn’t revolve around commercialization and self-promotion as well as feeding into my life-long desire to live off the grid.


I go for a walk outside the van. A caramel colored little poodle is hunched over a carcass of some sort, eating.. i stop, and it turns to look at me ¬†with. It’s eyes are rabid. A moment passes, then it leaps on me and sinks in its teeth. I try to shake it off but can’t so I start screaming in attempt to scare it off.

In real life, I start screaming so Angel wakes me up. I don’t think I have ever screamed myself into waking reality before, which is something quite common for my father, who my mother and I frequently saved from rocky dreams.