(From now on, references to reality that explain certain people, places or things will be parenthetical.)

Working backwards...I awoke with the immediate memory of playing farm animal legos with my roomate (I don't even know her last name) after my hanging sheets (that in reality confine my area of the room) kept falling down. This came after my mother and I took a joy ride in a bus shaped like a victorian cottage, painted light yellow, which dropped us off at a snoball/ice cream parlour called "dipsy's"(non-existant) on Palmer Ave. I guess we were celebrating because before this I remember our family being quarantined in a stone house--French--due to our collective infection with the plague. My middle sister was hit the worst; I can still picture her from where I stood in her bedroom doorway, her rib cage rising huge under sweat-soaked, light pink sheets--the same color of the walls. The whole family was diseased, yet all survived because one day the plague was gone and we all ran out to meet the helicopter that scooped up my grandfather (deceased) and lifted him, cradled in a white net, into the sky. (Kinda like a reverse-stork)

I went running through a funhouse with every friend i've ever known. The structure lacked walls and ceilings, but had staircases galore. there were infinite bars, movies, funjumps, haystacks. we would sleep nights piled up in tiny bunk rooms like happy puppies. then the scenes slowed, the fun paused, and i found myself in a dark stairwell, paired with an aquaintance and moments later a dark man in a black coat. the man appeared to be one step classier than the traditional crackhead--boasting a nice set of stark white teeth. he then offered my friend crack, and he accepted before saying i'll be rightback wait here for me. they never left, but instead the stranger stabbed my friend with a small poisoned pin and he fell dead. then, the man swiftly jabbed the tiny pin into my bare thigh, and i passed out for what felt like 2 minutes. when i woke up and ran back to my group (not really upset about my dead friend) they were like, "whatt?? you've been gone for 4 hours we've been trying to buy you icecream and you missed so many photos!"

in reflection, i feel like this is a sped up composite of my college experience.

some will be choppy, some explanations more elaborate since memory is choosy.

two nights ago it was christmas in a baseball feild making negotiations with taxi cab drivers for a ride to the airport. i straddled home, struggling with decisions about where to spend the holiday new york (where ive been in reality for the hurricane break) or louisiana (born and raised).

The creation of this space was sparked by a Writing Technology (class) project. The concept of a blog is new to me, but I have adopted this as my own personal experiment. An open-ended one, with an ever-changing conclusion. I have always been intrigued by dreams in general and my own in particular, but what's more--when I really say wow--emerges when we talk about them. It is a strange process when we try to express in words, and thereby realize where we were when our eyes were closed, our bodies were still, but our hearts kept beating. And so this place (where are we exactly, anyway?) becomes a canvas upon which I will attempt to paint my dreams into reality, and welcome anyone else to do so. I hope for a communal travel journal-dialogue-back and forth-mutli-dimensional collection. Dream on.