I have to walk into my parent's church holding a child that is not mine. I know the explanation is too outlandish to be believed about why I have a baby in my arms. Still, I sheepishly walk in (late) to the Sunday School class and make my way to the back as everyone stares.
I see faces I recognize and a few hushed whispers reach my ears.
As soon as I sit down, the damn ball of flesh starts crying. It's not loud, but oh it's there. I try to hush the child. Nothing works. I'm getting anxious and sweating a little. Makeitstopmakeitstop!
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
1.16.2009
6.13.2008
Something topical, and then complete randomness
1.
We've spotted a menacing funnel cloud close by. We're in some kind of large factory — the paper mill? — and are told to head for the belly of it. We take the winding corridors and finally end up in a portion of the place that looks nothing like a basement, but instead seems to be a wide-open area with a murky yellow sky. I ask if we are actually indoors, and am told yes. Essentially we're in some kind of huge underground warehouse. I look down and my watch has begun glowing in pulses. I realize this means it's go time. Sure enough, we hear a rumble and there are shouts to take cover. I grab some pipes nearby and wince as the storm gobbles up what it can from above. There are two people beside me. I watch in horror as the three of us rise from the ground from the force of the winds. Rise and fall, air and ground.
The storm passes.
2. I'm in some kind of amusement park that is painfully empty. The rides are running on auto-pilot, but there are no people in them, despite the fact that there are a scant few people running around the park. I climb the queue for the park's equivalent of the Old Mill Scream (large boat climbs hill, rushes down hill, splashes water everywhere, the end), thinking I'd like to ride it. I get to the top and watch the boats crest the hill near the platform and then take off without even a pause for a passenger to board. I get spooked and decide I'd rather not jump into a moving boat. Lighthouse Pilot walks up to the platform, wanting to ride the ride as well, but sees the predicament of the moving boats. I caution him not to do it when I sense that he's thinking about jumping into one of the boats. We decide that they must be moving so fast because there's no one here working the ride and literally putting a foot down to slow the boats so people can load. The boats keep cresting the hill and falling rapidly as we watch them, wondering why there's no one there controlling the ride.
3.
I'm at church, and it's packed. It's so packed it feels like a suffocating madhouse. There are people I've never seen before, and lots of children. It's bustling and loud and completely unlike any church I've ever been in. I have to take a seat up front, only to look back and see my family slide into a pew several rows back. My patience with the whole ordeal grows thin, so I grab my bag and slip out. My dad calls out after me, irritated that I would leave.
I navigate my way through the teeming crowd and realize the bustle is because there's some sort of festival going on. A revival-slash-festival of sorts. I don't want to be there and the contempt is bubbling up inside me, so I push my way toward the door until finally I'm outside. It's nearly dark and poorly lit, but there are people everywhere running around and playing. I push my way through the thick darkness, trying to get away from the church, when I hear a FWOOMP and look down next to me.
It's a javelin. A red javelin. I peer into the darkness and realize that there are people out there playing lawn darts with javelins, and launching the giant spears into the crowd with little regard for, uh, safety. And they are gearing up to hurl another one in my general direction. I backtrack and head toward the church again, my eye trained on the horizon. I see a javelin in the air, getting bigger all the time, and carefully plot my next few steps to avoid it. This happens two more times before I'm finally back at the church. I go inside and start telling people, "They've got lawn darts out there!!" but no one seems to understand the urgency.
I'm told my grandmother requires me in one of the rooms of the church, and when I go to find her, I realize I've been duped and my dad just wanted a chance to scold me for leaving.
We've spotted a menacing funnel cloud close by. We're in some kind of large factory — the paper mill? — and are told to head for the belly of it. We take the winding corridors and finally end up in a portion of the place that looks nothing like a basement, but instead seems to be a wide-open area with a murky yellow sky. I ask if we are actually indoors, and am told yes. Essentially we're in some kind of huge underground warehouse. I look down and my watch has begun glowing in pulses. I realize this means it's go time. Sure enough, we hear a rumble and there are shouts to take cover. I grab some pipes nearby and wince as the storm gobbles up what it can from above. There are two people beside me. I watch in horror as the three of us rise from the ground from the force of the winds. Rise and fall, air and ground.
The storm passes.
2. I'm in some kind of amusement park that is painfully empty. The rides are running on auto-pilot, but there are no people in them, despite the fact that there are a scant few people running around the park. I climb the queue for the park's equivalent of the Old Mill Scream (large boat climbs hill, rushes down hill, splashes water everywhere, the end), thinking I'd like to ride it. I get to the top and watch the boats crest the hill near the platform and then take off without even a pause for a passenger to board. I get spooked and decide I'd rather not jump into a moving boat. Lighthouse Pilot walks up to the platform, wanting to ride the ride as well, but sees the predicament of the moving boats. I caution him not to do it when I sense that he's thinking about jumping into one of the boats. We decide that they must be moving so fast because there's no one here working the ride and literally putting a foot down to slow the boats so people can load. The boats keep cresting the hill and falling rapidly as we watch them, wondering why there's no one there controlling the ride.
3.
I'm at church, and it's packed. It's so packed it feels like a suffocating madhouse. There are people I've never seen before, and lots of children. It's bustling and loud and completely unlike any church I've ever been in. I have to take a seat up front, only to look back and see my family slide into a pew several rows back. My patience with the whole ordeal grows thin, so I grab my bag and slip out. My dad calls out after me, irritated that I would leave.
I navigate my way through the teeming crowd and realize the bustle is because there's some sort of festival going on. A revival-slash-festival of sorts. I don't want to be there and the contempt is bubbling up inside me, so I push my way toward the door until finally I'm outside. It's nearly dark and poorly lit, but there are people everywhere running around and playing. I push my way through the thick darkness, trying to get away from the church, when I hear a FWOOMP and look down next to me.
It's a javelin. A red javelin. I peer into the darkness and realize that there are people out there playing lawn darts with javelins, and launching the giant spears into the crowd with little regard for, uh, safety. And they are gearing up to hurl another one in my general direction. I backtrack and head toward the church again, my eye trained on the horizon. I see a javelin in the air, getting bigger all the time, and carefully plot my next few steps to avoid it. This happens two more times before I'm finally back at the church. I go inside and start telling people, "They've got lawn darts out there!!" but no one seems to understand the urgency.
I'm told my grandmother requires me in one of the rooms of the church, and when I go to find her, I realize I've been duped and my dad just wanted a chance to scold me for leaving.
5.27.2008
Sunday School
I'm back in my parents' church again. This time I'm doing the "churchy" thing going to several Sunday School classes.
I start off in the college/young singles class and sit down on the end of a row. Then I notice this certain person who has been a part of my life fairly recently has walked through the class. He smiles at me, says a few words to the teacher and leaves. A couple of people look at me with serious expressions. I stare straight ahead.
Then later, I walk down the hall to the 5th grade Sunday School class. I've been asked to join the class for reasons unknown to me. I go in and sit down. The same man walks through, smiles at me, says something to the teacher and leaves. I feel like he's following me.
Then I'm asked to wait in the hall while the class discusses a few things. I go out into the hall and wait with another girl who was asked to do the same. While we're waiting, the guy I keep seeing is out in the hall talking jovially with some church members.
The girl with me gets called back into the classroom and I hear the teacher asking her about how she lies. I wonder what the hell I'm doing out in the hall when I'm called back in.
The teacher holds something like a cordless phone to my face as she starts asking me about the affairs I'm having. I'm stunned into silence. Then people start milling around like class is over.
This is the most obvious dream I think I've had in my life. Good grief.
I start off in the college/young singles class and sit down on the end of a row. Then I notice this certain person who has been a part of my life fairly recently has walked through the class. He smiles at me, says a few words to the teacher and leaves. A couple of people look at me with serious expressions. I stare straight ahead.
Then later, I walk down the hall to the 5th grade Sunday School class. I've been asked to join the class for reasons unknown to me. I go in and sit down. The same man walks through, smiles at me, says something to the teacher and leaves. I feel like he's following me.
Then I'm asked to wait in the hall while the class discusses a few things. I go out into the hall and wait with another girl who was asked to do the same. While we're waiting, the guy I keep seeing is out in the hall talking jovially with some church members.
The girl with me gets called back into the classroom and I hear the teacher asking her about how she lies. I wonder what the hell I'm doing out in the hall when I'm called back in.
The teacher holds something like a cordless phone to my face as she starts asking me about the affairs I'm having. I'm stunned into silence. Then people start milling around like class is over.
This is the most obvious dream I think I've had in my life. Good grief.
2.17.2008
Bits and pieces
Lots of little dream bits last night.
[][][]
I've trekked into unfamiliar territory, by car or by foot or by combination of both, to a building where a kind of informal committee resides, to try to apply for the zombie walk permit (this is something I'm in the middle of doing now in real life). I'm having to appeal to a group of elders to get approval. I tell them all about our plans, and the date (last Friday in April). They get a little iffy about it and point me to the CA's M section, where there's a story about Native Americans coming from all over to gather and pay their ancestors' respects downtown that day. I feel gross about hundreds of people lurching around as a zombies while people are spending the day mourning their ancestors, so it occurs to me that we might ought to move the date to the end of May. I find Sharon and Leah, two of my fellow organizers, and tell them what's up. They're really disappointed (Sharon rolls her eyes in a moment of Oh yeah, I think I knew about that!!!), and while I'm explaining what's going on, it occurs to me that it might not be a problem after all. I check the CA article and see that the bulk of the Native American ceremonies will take place around noon. Our march will be after six.
We breathe a sigh of relief.
[][][]
I find myself trying to get back to somewhere and being confronted with an ocean and a beach. I'm standing on a concrete landing, under a pavilion. I can either go back to wherever I'd come from, or go forward and inch along the side of a cinder-block building, against the angry waves of the ocean aggressively lapping at the side of the building. I imagine a swell of salty water and drowning there, trapped. So I go back the way I came.
[][][]
It's like I'm watching Flavor Flav's show. He's welcoming the camera into his crib in New Orleans (did I gank any of this from real life?). There's a butler at the door of a shotgun-style mansion (it is the definition of "ghetto fabulous") whose facade is an icky green color, with peeling paint and a cagey wrought-iron door. I get the feeling that Flav's house has been recovered after being mostly destroyed by Katrina. Inside, everything is damp and the walls are plaster and buckled and peeling. The long hallway runs parallel to some other hallway where a pulley system has been set up with all of Flav's clothes hanging on it. The clothes move along and he can choose what outfit he wants at the door at the end of the hall. I (or the camera?) make my way down the hall a bit longer before suddenly we're in Flav's dirt-floored basement and it feels like we're making a music video. Featuring zombies. Fucking zombies! That you can only see with night-vision goggles. It's exceedingly creepy. Luckily my brain does not supply any Flavor Flav musical stylings.
[][][]
I'm at a guy friend's house (I'll not mention him by name in case he reads this, so I'll call him Tom). It's actually probably his parents' house. It has a parents' house feel to it, even though no parents are to be found. We're having some sort of small gathering of friends. We're lounging around, watching TV (I'm on the floor), when Tom sort of scoots over to me and says something — god, I wish I could remember what it was — and then kind of nuzzles my neck and kisses me below my right ear, in that crook where you can, if you get close enough, tell easily enough if you have chemistry with a person. You know the crook I'm talking about. I get a little short of breath and feel slightly self-conscious in case others are watching, which they don't seem to be. He puts his cheek just near enough to my face that I can flutter my eyelashes against his lips. He smiles.
It's a sweet moment. He smells good.
[][][]
I'm on some kind of truckbed tour of something ... either a city or an event ... I can't quite explain, but it ends with us driving around this church where all the members are around, cloaked in red robes and holding burning crosses. There are also burning crosses used as torches on the side of the brick church. The people are singing and it's obvious that they see nothing wrong with what they're doing. I get prickly at this; why would they need to burn crosses? Don't they understand the racist implications of burning crosses, even if it's their stupid church tradition? I bitch loudly when the truck stops and I can get out and walk away. There are a lot of people in red robes (with hoods!), holding burning crosses. I can feel the heat from the group of them.
[][][]
I've trekked into unfamiliar territory, by car or by foot or by combination of both, to a building where a kind of informal committee resides, to try to apply for the zombie walk permit (this is something I'm in the middle of doing now in real life). I'm having to appeal to a group of elders to get approval. I tell them all about our plans, and the date (last Friday in April). They get a little iffy about it and point me to the CA's M section, where there's a story about Native Americans coming from all over to gather and pay their ancestors' respects downtown that day. I feel gross about hundreds of people lurching around as a zombies while people are spending the day mourning their ancestors, so it occurs to me that we might ought to move the date to the end of May. I find Sharon and Leah, two of my fellow organizers, and tell them what's up. They're really disappointed (Sharon rolls her eyes in a moment of Oh yeah, I think I knew about that!!!), and while I'm explaining what's going on, it occurs to me that it might not be a problem after all. I check the CA article and see that the bulk of the Native American ceremonies will take place around noon. Our march will be after six.
We breathe a sigh of relief.
[][][]
I find myself trying to get back to somewhere and being confronted with an ocean and a beach. I'm standing on a concrete landing, under a pavilion. I can either go back to wherever I'd come from, or go forward and inch along the side of a cinder-block building, against the angry waves of the ocean aggressively lapping at the side of the building. I imagine a swell of salty water and drowning there, trapped. So I go back the way I came.
[][][]
It's like I'm watching Flavor Flav's show. He's welcoming the camera into his crib in New Orleans (did I gank any of this from real life?). There's a butler at the door of a shotgun-style mansion (it is the definition of "ghetto fabulous") whose facade is an icky green color, with peeling paint and a cagey wrought-iron door. I get the feeling that Flav's house has been recovered after being mostly destroyed by Katrina. Inside, everything is damp and the walls are plaster and buckled and peeling. The long hallway runs parallel to some other hallway where a pulley system has been set up with all of Flav's clothes hanging on it. The clothes move along and he can choose what outfit he wants at the door at the end of the hall. I (or the camera?) make my way down the hall a bit longer before suddenly we're in Flav's dirt-floored basement and it feels like we're making a music video. Featuring zombies. Fucking zombies! That you can only see with night-vision goggles. It's exceedingly creepy. Luckily my brain does not supply any Flavor Flav musical stylings.
[][][]
I'm at a guy friend's house (I'll not mention him by name in case he reads this, so I'll call him Tom). It's actually probably his parents' house. It has a parents' house feel to it, even though no parents are to be found. We're having some sort of small gathering of friends. We're lounging around, watching TV (I'm on the floor), when Tom sort of scoots over to me and says something — god, I wish I could remember what it was — and then kind of nuzzles my neck and kisses me below my right ear, in that crook where you can, if you get close enough, tell easily enough if you have chemistry with a person. You know the crook I'm talking about. I get a little short of breath and feel slightly self-conscious in case others are watching, which they don't seem to be. He puts his cheek just near enough to my face that I can flutter my eyelashes against his lips. He smiles.
It's a sweet moment. He smells good.
[][][]
I'm on some kind of truckbed tour of something ... either a city or an event ... I can't quite explain, but it ends with us driving around this church where all the members are around, cloaked in red robes and holding burning crosses. There are also burning crosses used as torches on the side of the brick church. The people are singing and it's obvious that they see nothing wrong with what they're doing. I get prickly at this; why would they need to burn crosses? Don't they understand the racist implications of burning crosses, even if it's their stupid church tradition? I bitch loudly when the truck stops and I can get out and walk away. There are a lot of people in red robes (with hoods!), holding burning crosses. I can feel the heat from the group of them.
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