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Book One
Part Two > 5/89 -12/89 8. It was either Tony Bennett or Neil Diamond. We (me and others I don’t recognize) are watching TV and suddenly a guy is shown being pulled at high speed over a jump. He isn’t on a motorcycle or a bicycle—he is on his feet. This is all part of a concert—the encore, perhaps. The jumper is dressed in an all white outfit with a white helmet. As he is being pulled over the jump, he losses control a bit and his right arm plows through a banister upon landing. He is not injured and he returns to the banister shortly after the jump to examine the damage he did to it. The crowd (fans) are going wild. I am wild with excitement myself. He has now pulled his helmet off and is smiling. The filming of this show is documentary style. He (Tony or Neil) no longer has any hair, in fact, he has a tattoo covering the whole top of his head. It starts in front as flames that gradually turn into clocks by the time they reach his back. A different man now. He is being watched by a group of people in a bar. I believe the man may be Hunter S. Thompson. His whole face is a tattoo of flames and lightning bolts. He has a super hero look about him—I believe this is because his tattoos are so red. He pulls off his shirt to reveal the fact that his whole back is tattooed to resemble a wooden figurine—as though the figurine were his skeletal structure. 5/4/1989, 10:15am. Redondo Beach, California. I recall itching my scalp a lot last night. 9. Floating in an ocean somehow. With some friends. We are witnessing a sexual frenzy in a nearby boat. Two females, one male. Very graphic. Angle changes frequently, as though we are watching a movie. It starts to become dark and I mention that we should go back before we get lost. So we begin to swim and this is when I realize Kelley is with me and we are using some sort of inner tube as floatation. We make it out and are somehow projected into an apartment complex. Our apartment complex. A party is beginning to take place in our apartment. Lots of skate folks at the party. Someone has sprayed the stencil of a pitchfork all over the complex and the manager has just found the cardboard from which the stencil was cut. He is fuming. 8/20/1989. Corvalis, Oregon. 10. Fragments. Me and a girl—no girl in particular, but perhaps a culmination of many. We are on a hillside by the ocean. We find a pathway which leads underground into some other reality. We are walking with a guide through a very large warehouse where huge aquariums house multitudes of fish—whales, etc. Then in a living room-styled environment I am being harassed by a man that looks like a particular actor I cannot put a name to. He is a smirky, sarcastic bastard. He is above us mentally—or so he believes. I become very pissed off at him and finally explode into a rain of fists pounding into his head knocking him back into a pool of water that exists in the living area. I fall in with him. The pool becomes very deep and I think I am on the verge of killing him when he transforms into a beast of some kind. I get out of the water to escape him. I am so frightened by him that I try to escape by throwing myself headfirst into the screen of an operating television—it being the only reality I could relate to in the room. This of course, does not work as an escape route but as a result I have smashed out it’s screen with my head and shoulders. Realizing I’m still in the room, I pick up the broken TV and throw it at him full-force. He tosses it aside like a toy and continues after me—now infuriated. I run for the balcony and leap off (There is water below. I think), but he catches me by the leg... 10/19/1989. Redondo Beach, California. 11. I am a child in a long line of children and we are being marched somewhere. None of us want to go where we are being led, though we are not sure where we are going. I am at the end, or near the end, of the line and a large man in a military uniform is behind me to make sure we all comply with the march. I glance at him once and only once because he is very imposing and frightens us with his mere presence. I realize he is shaped like a man in form, but his face is a monster’s face—barely any human resemblance in it. We are being marched through marshes and very wet trails. Through small drainage pipes, creeks, etc. The line keeps being stretched then tightened, stretched then tightened. The guard/monster never says or does a thing besides march behind us. I believe some of us tried to escape... 10/29/1989. Redondo Beach, California. 12. A sparse city street. Abandoned, for the most part. It is the middle of the day. Average weather. No weather. Wide street. I am on the sidewalk and I notice Robin Williams crossing the street diagonally. He has a silly/serious Robin Williams grin on. I think of what to do for an instant—scan my thoughts on how I should react, if at all. As I get nearer to him I belt out the first few lines of the Stevie Wonder song, Higher Ground. I am loud. He looks at me with his Robin Williams face and walks on, not missing a step in his stride. I walk a little further and enter a frame shop to purchase some glass... but they are closed and tell me to go somewhere else. Must be Sunday. 11/6/1989. Redondo Beach, California. 13. I am one of three men standing around in a vacant lot next to a semi-busy street (could be Hawthorne Blvd). We are all in hunting attire and each has a nice handgun. We are comparing our guns and talking about guns when I notice a car driving by with the passenger door open. There are a couple of instrument cases in the car and one of them falls out into the street. The car drives on. “Look a trombone,” I say, and move to retrieve the case. As soon as I move towards it I notice a cop approaching. We hold our guns up in a non-threateningly and the cop confiscates the trombone case after scolding us for being gun lovers and wanting to take the horn. 11/10/1989. Redondo Beach, California. 14. A house. Reminds me of my old house in Cheyenne, Wyoming—only the rooms are arranged differently. Not the furniture, but the rooms are actually indifferent parts of the house. And they are different sizes as well. But it feels like my old house. Anyway, I have an accident. I cannot recall what the accident was but I attain an eight- inch-long gash on my inner right forearm—from the wrist to the bend in the elbow. The skin is extremely white and the wound is not bleeding. There is no pain but a sense of anxiety and panic is present. I am now in a hospital. A doctor is ready to repair me with an over-sized crescent-shaped needle and no anesthetic. I am now in extreme panic as he begins to insert the needle into the very clean, white cut with no blood. But it does not hurt as he sews, I only feels a very peculiar tugging sensation. When he finishes he gives me a very hard plastic molded glove that fits over my arm up to my elbow. The doctor tells me I must wear it an hour a day, everyday, for a year. When I wear the sleeve/glove, it is very tight on my arm and holds my hand in a claw shape. I return home and attempt to tell my mom about the whole ordeal but she will not listen for some reason. 11/11/1989. Redondo Beach, California. The next morning I meet with a man about some artwork I’d done for him. As he helped me carry some things to my car, I noticed he had an eight-inch-long scar running up his inner let forearm. I had not remembered the proceeding dream up until this point. 15. Bouncing down a large scaled hallway with Jeff Tremaine. We are jumping. The floor is very bouncy and translucent—images of Mad Ball faces shown through it. The images change constantly. We bounce to a sort of dead end, the wall before us covered with hot dogs—whole hot dogs, buns and all. To our right is a chain link fence about 15-feet-tall. We climb it into another long room. In the middle of this room is a pool table covered with a cloth. The cloth appears lumpy. Two girls are already there and are peering under the cloth. They begin the eat some substance that is under the cloth on the table. 12/9/1989. Redondo Beach, California. book one |