Wednesday, July 30, 2008


Yesterday, L.A. had an earthquake of 5.8. Somewhere in downtown L.A., Danceteach was stuck in a building which had to be inspected for damage before they'd let anyone out. During the time of imprisonment, Danceteach texted me his complaints and told me how the rollers in the building exacerbated feelings to the point where people screamed. I forgot to ask what floor he was on.

I blame Danceteach for the following.

At 6 this morning, my mind dreamt this. Oh, I do so love my mind sometimes.

Bratworse and I were in San Francisco, in a building somewhere. We split up and I went to go find the person whom I was supposed to be meeting. Along the way, my dream-self ran into some people I was hoping to avoid, but of course in dreams, we HAVE to run into them. As I said my goodbyes to them, an earthquake struck.

Flashforward (as dreams do). I'm in a hallway, surrounded by pushing people. I'm looking for Bratworse, my panic increases.

Flashforward again. I'm spilling out into the streets with throngs of people, screaming out her name when I look across the street and there she is, standing with two people and waving at me.

Flashforward again. I'm by her side. Turns out the two people by her side are my mom and her sister, my aunt. Funny how in dreams you don't question such obvious contradictions... Bratworse wouldn't be able to pick my mom out of a crowd I think. I'm looking around frantically for what to do next when I see a HUGE ASS LINE across the street and policemen are trying to get people to go to the back of the line.

"I think that line's for the Bay Bridge." I gesture to the three of them.

My aunt waves a hand, "You go ahead. I'm not going to make it."

My mother starts harumphing and saying, "If that's what she wants, let her."

"Come on," I urge, "We'll be with you the whole way. Just..." Right then, out of the corner of my eye, I see a caucasian duck into an alley, carrying a bundle of satiny clothes. That's strange, I thought to myself as I urge my aunt more.

Just as I get my aunt to her feet and I point out to her how far the line's dwindled (There was actually no line to speak of at this point), I notice the caucasian emerge from the other end of the alley, wearing priest vestments and holding a picket sign. He starts yelling out something about gays and lesbians....

And my dream-mind snaps.

There was just an earthquake. I have Bratworse with me. I have two crotchety, stubborn 70 something year old ladies (and I use the terms loosely) who have spent their entire lives one-upping each other and arguing, with me. We have to walk like 20 miles to try and get to safety. And this guy... this guy wants to get in my face and tell me my lifestyle caused this earthquake.

I pick up a stick and start chasing the guy, just as other fags and dykes and queers around me do. I run after this "priest" and as I hurl my stick at the fleeing figure, I scream out "BURN IN HELL!"....

only to find out I screamed out in real life "BURN...." and managed to suppress "in hell" in time to stop from really waking up Bratworse.

I sit up in bed, pissed and wheezing. Only then did I realize my brain concocted this whole thing to get me to wake up and adjust my body temperature to stave off an asthma attack.



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