Let the Analysis Play On (Play On)
I dreamt that I was staying at an unspecified hospital in Southeast D.C. They had let me go for a walk in the neighborhood, but I was extra energetic, frenetically so after being cooped up in the hospital, so I walked on and on.
I had no idea where I was, and it was getting awful late, dark outside. It was a sketchy part of town, this part of town I had no idea where I was. I saw the fence that I thought was the end of the hospital property. It could have been, but I wasn't sure. I was sure, though, that I needed to be on the other side of the fenced land, and soon.
I couldn't climb the fence, and I couldn't see an opening, so I followed along the fence. I could see an elevated train track just on the other side of the fence, so I followed it along, hurriedly.
I could feel the eyes on me, but I couldn't see anyone or anything that had decided I didn't belong there. I was almost jogging at this point, the point that I realized that I was nearing a train station. It was almost midnight, almost closing time.
I followed a man in an old teal Miami Dolphins jersey (couldn't make out the number) down a street, careful to stay behind him for some reason. I turned left at the corner to head up the curving ramp to the station entrance. The man was gone, and the entrance was closed.
The exit was open, however, and the last two trains, one in either direction, pulled in. I couldn't get through the gate to get on my last train. But all those other people were able to get off. Ah well.
At the bottom of the ramp was a cab stand. Most of the cars were the old style Ambassadors, the regal 1940s style cars-for-hire popular among European tourists in India. They all had D.C. "Celebrate and Discover" license plates.
For whatever reason at this station, which I decided was the Minnesota Avenue station, was the home base for an autorickshaw test program. Only three rickshaws were waiting, yellow and black, just like in India, only these were a bit larger and looked rubberized (rather fitting for a vehicle with a four-stroke engine in the need-a-skosh-more-room States). And they too had "Celebrate and Discover" tags, but these were more like those state plates that used to come in Honeycombs boxes. And the cost of the same ride was $10, instead of $50 in the Ambassador cars.
Off I went, in the rubber-coated, yellow and black, three-wheeled scooter. We drove across something that looked like the Sousa Bridge until the driver stopped at a different train station (that looked just like the one we left) to use the bathroom. I got out, too, because I didn't feel like waiting. I grabbed a bag of potato chips from the vending machine and went to look for another rickshaw. I could see them, the rickshaws and their drivers, hiding from me behind a just barely too short mound of dirt. I couldn't get to them to hire one to take me back wherever, as though they thought I couldn't find them and so therefore, I couldn't.
Eventually another autorickshaw drove up to let a passenger off and I got on before he could go hide behind that pile of dirt.
And that's all I remember, officer. That's all I remember.
Replies: 5 comments
dude, what ARE you smoking?
Posted by @ 01/21/05 6:38 a.m. ET
It seems to me that the guy in the Dolphins uniform that you couldn't follow is a clear indication that you should stay away from the leafy stuff if you don't want to have fucked-up dreams.
Posted by @ 01/21/05 10:01 a.m. ET
But spinach tastes gooooood. Collards tastes gooooooood. Kale tastes gooooooood.
Posted by @ 01/21/05 11:31 a.m. ET
I then fucked a fish.
Posted by @ 01/22/05 10:12 a.m. ET
mr. jerko called me from mexico city yesterday morning. seems he's having a good time and the old mexican woman are treating him right...
Posted by @ 01/21/05 3:29 a.m. ET