Lately

I've been of two minds,One mind: oil,
the other other: water.

I could absorb you, surround you, bathe you,
baptize you;
I could wash you away.

I could anoint you,
make you my priest, my king;
I could let you slip through my fingers.

I could set you on fire.
Some fires consume.
Some melt.
Some purify.
Some forge two metals together.

What God has joined together,
let no man separate.
What is done,
let it not be undone.
What is formed out of dust and ash,
let it not be burned up,
let it not be washed away.

Dream Diary #7 A gift from Jimmy Fallon

Lately I haven't been remembering my dreams, but this one was weird enough to stick in my mind all day. 

I'm not entirely sure what the occasion was, but I went to the post office to pick up a package. The package itself was the size of a large stack of books, and inside, surrounded by a bunch of multi-colored accordion-cut confetti was a note:

"Enjoy. Hope you like it.

--Jimmy Fallon."

Also, don't worry, the Fallon in my dream was no cheapskate. He sent me a small mirror in an intricately cut black frame, and a bunch of other small items that apparently weren't that memorable. What I do remember was thinking how the heck Fallon knew who I was and why he thought to send me a package.

Dream Diary #6

I had several remarkable and disturbing dreams last night, unfortunately the chief of which involved my personal head canon about my character Striker in Finding Oblivion. Don't get me wrong, it was one of my favorite dreams, but writing about it might spill some potential spoilers about the screen play. With that said, I'm going to write about my other favorite dream from last night.

For whatever reason, my friends and I had decided to cross the Willamette River farther south than the three known bridges in Salem. We'd heard of a recently constructed "living bridge." None of us were sure what that meant.  If the living bridge could handle cars, it would certainly solve a notorious traffic problem Salem has. After all, the city only has two vehicle bridges connecting its east and west sides, with one way traffic on both. They also transformed a railroad bridge into a pedestrian bridge, but my friends and I decided we'd rather try the new living bridge instead.

We also decided to take a canoe downriver instead of trying to find the bridge from the embankment. As my friend rowed for us, we noticed giant cages of animals jutting out over the river from the east side. Apparently Riverfront Park had recently added a zoo to its attractions. Part of me wanted to get out of the canoe and get a closer look, yet at the same time the rest of me knew that those flimsy cages might not hold. And they hadn't keep all of the animals inside.

Something bumped against our canoe, rocking it violently to the left. It rolled over, dumping us in the water. I screamed as I saw a giant green snake wrap itself around one of my friends as its jaws went for his neck. My other friend and I left him to wrestle with the snake, for we saw the vines stretching across the river in a living bridge.

Recently it had fallen into disrepair, so we managed to ascend it in the middle of the river, climbing it to the west bank. It was like one of those rickety bridges you'd find in a jungle movie. At the top of the west bank, we found brush as tall as most one story buildings, and we wondered what we'd find on the other side. My friend pulled out a tourist guide, describing the primal community living within.

On cue, one such person came up the dirt path to greet us at the gate. By greet, I mean he gave me a rather long scrutinizing once over. This was made more awkward by the fact that I recognized him, even in his scanty, plant based clothes. He looked like some replica of Peter Pan, but I could tell this was a former trumpet player from my marching band in high school. I wondered if the other trumpet players would be inside the jungle community, and if they would look as good in nothing but brush and leaves.

Dream Diary #5

Frequently I have dreams about apartments and houses. This is one of those. 

It began as once again, my roommates and I had moved to a new place. This one was shockingly spacious, with rooms as big as some apartments. For whatever reason, my roommate Bree and I were sharing the master bedroom, with two separate futons. Every wall in the house was shockingly white, and the overcast sun poured through the windows during the day. All the windows were on the same side of the house. We had another pair of roommates living in the other wing of the house, one that we rarely stepped inside. Our living room, dining room, and kitchen stretched from our bedrooms to the other end of the house in one cavernous stretch.

However, none of this was on my mind as I attempted, and failed, to unpack my things. I had the worst headache and exhaustion known to man. I tried napping, but the ache in my head failed to go away. It was a heavy, burning, pervasive sort of ache, one that glued me to my mattress. The stress of knowing we had company later that night did not help one bit.

By that night, Bree had been replaced by my friend Sammi. I'm not sure if Sammi had moved in, or if she was just helping me host this strange dinner. Apparently we had invited one of my celebrity crushes to dinner with his father and brother, to discuss some sort of business plan. This actor intended to moonlight as a farmer, or something. I don't really remember, as my headache still hadn't gone away. It took all my energy to pay attention as they quizzed each other about land use in the darkness.

The lights weren't on! None! We might have a candle or two lit, and we could hardly see each other. I scrambled to turn all the lights on, except I couldn't remember where all of them were. Embarrassed, I felt along each wall for every light switch I could find. By the time I was done, I could hardly move, and our house was filled with light. Part of me worried about our upcoming electric bill.

I dragged myself to bed as the sun came up through the windows, overpowering all our lamps. In my minds eye I could see and hear Mr. Actor ask Sammi in his English accent "Is she alright?"

"She has as migraine. She'll be fine." Sammi answered, her ever-present grin on her face.

"Would she mind if I joined her?"

Sammi sniggered. "Not at all."

Freshly Brewed Trouble

First thing in the morning,

Or sometimes well towards the afternoon,

Only the thought of a hot white mocha

Can keep me from falling to the ground.

I live in the brewing pot of the U.S. of A.

The Babylon, if you will, of Coffee,

In all its permutations.

For the uninitiated, the green bean, the freshly pressed

To taste of Portland’s finest blackest nectar,

I give you the following:

Most famous of its caffeinated brethren, Starbucks--

Will likely find you before you find it.

Like the foggy, soggy streets of its Sound origins,

The Bux is bitter, dark, and misted with cinnamon and murky with cream.

Dutch Bros, on the other hand,

Has that southern Jeffersonian warmth,

Whose principal fault is that sweetness

Which goes straight to your head,

And will bite any visitors that stick around.

Another favorite is Ava Rosteria,

Deep and rich with the art

And care of Italy,

And will empty your wallet if you fail to pay attention.

Or perhaps you prefer something a little more quick,

And a little more easy.

In that case, I direct you to K & F on Clinton Street,

Which, like the fast, well-educated literary lovers of Stumptown,

Seems smooth, and light,

But if you’re not careful to catch him early,

Will literally keep you up all night.

Dream Diary Entry #4

Finally! I had a dream on a weekend morning/night! I actually had multiple dreams, but I'm choosing just to write about one. If your curious, the other dream was about me nuzzling and kissing one of my celebrity crushes. That's about all I'll say about that. *Ahem.*

I can't remember the exact reason my roommates and I went back to my old house in Keizer, but there we were, in my old bedroom. Shockingly, the closet was full of old, treasured items of mine, like my childhood teddy bear, beach toys, and a box full of ribbons and beads. My bed, which currently resides in my new apartment, was also there in my room, though it had been stripped down to the sheets.

Taking the items I wanted, I allowed my roommates to go through everything else. That was when I heard my dad from the other room. What in the world is he doing here? I thought as I walked into the master bedroom. There he was, sprawled across his bed, in a fully furnished room, as if he had never moved out.

"Why are you taking all your stuff?" My dad looked up at me from his pillow.

"Just picking up some things left behind from the move." How on earth I managed to leave so much behind the first time, I had no idea.

"Why don't you leave it here?"

"Are you staying?" I blinked. I thought he had moved out when I did.

"Carol's offering to help with rent." For some reason, this referred to a friend of his, and not my aunt.

Suddenly I wondered if they were more than friends. I also remembered that this house was empty the last time I stopped by, and that my old roommate had moved all my things for me when I was out of the country. And then I woke up.

Dream Diary #3

Another speed post. I have a bad habit of forgetting to record my dreams until I only have ten minutes to write them.

I left my job as a hostess at a restaurant a week ago, and so of course, I would start having a new kind of nightmare about them. Before, when I would dream about that job, it was all about the restaurant's layout changing rapidly and swarms of customers at the door. One dream even featured a multi-layered floor plan that changed every few seconds. 


In this dream, however, I opened my eyes and I was walking through the restaurant in mid morning. They were starting to get busy, but that's not what I noticed. It seemed that all the employees had changed in a matter of one week. I only recognized the manager and the owners. The manager guided me to the office, which had somehow shrunk while I was gone. Now, it was even more of an oversize closet.

"I need you to print out some shift sheets and the waiting list." My manager said with her hand on my shoulder, before she walked out.

No problem, I thought as I logged into the computer. Another thing had changed: instead of the computer desk being on my right as I entered the office, it now faced the door. Who knows what happened to the safe that used to be in its place. The operating system had changed too, and it was nothing I recognized. It looked more like a badly designed advertisement game for some fast food company than an OS. More and more of the owners piled into the office to give me advice on how to use the computer, and so did the hosts and servers. By the end of my dream, the office had turned into a clown car.

I soon realized I no longer worked at this restaurant, and then I woke up.