Dream Diary #4

There is a lovely place where people live in spacious apartments with white curtains of Egyptian cotton and beautiful paintings and amidst jacaranda trees and the smell of lemon leaves and sunshine and general loveliness. And suddenly there's a TYRANNOSAURUS REX, okay, and it's stomping around the place and roaring and somehow my tattoo makes it think that I'm also a big-ass dinosaur in disguise so now I'm the only one it talks to. Except it's being all territorial so our conversation goes like this.

Me - Go away. You're frightening my cats.
TYRANNOSAURUS REX - FOOOOOOOD.
Me - One fat aunty and that's it.
TYRANNOSAURUS REX - EVERYONE.
Me - Nevah!!

We start fighting. The dinosaur, who I now think of as Jeremy, TRIES TO EAT ME. I run towards a balcony. Everybody screams.

I club Jeremy with a jagged steel rod from the balcony. His puny little knees start to buckle. I go a little berserk trying to stab his eyes out. Everybody has gone. Now the dream becomes terrifying because Jeremy's wounds must be self-healing or something, because he's in full predator form. I'm running frantically around in some kind of institution trying to find a room without windows. There are none. A janitor turns out to be Jeremy's friend. I run around a corner and there Jeremy is, looking smug. He is standing on a bed of roses, most of which he has crushed. I know how much time and effort it takes to rear tea-roses in Cal, and hence I am filled with righteous rage. Instead of trying to attack him I give him the most derisive and scathing speech about how disgusting his scant respect for life and property makes him, his horrible irresponsibility, how obnoxious he is, why his species and indeed genus became extinct, how the world has moved on since then, how he is unnecessary now. Incredibly, this works. Jeremy blubbers, moves off the roses, and tries to subtly repair the damage by using one large claw to pat down the savaged earth and pretend that nothing has happened. I add the final blow by telling him that despite being from the Jurassic era, he is the worst example of post-colonial patriarchal oppression I have ever come across. Jeremy then hunches his shoulders and goes away. I wake up feeling incredibly, overwhelmingly guilty about hurting this rampaging monster's feelings and suddenly I want to apologize and maybe hug him and give him a chicken to eat or something.

Dream Diary #3

I stop for a rum and chocolate cake somewhere in Jodhpur Park. I'm supposed to be meeting Piu because I'm leaving the next day. The Dripping play is going to be staged at Madhusudan Mancha in a couple of hours. I'm walking through Jodhpur Park, then I'm on a bus at Dhakuria and Kalua is telling me what everyone on the streets already knows - the zombies are coming for us. Bhaskar is not there but his voice projects through the bus, saying, "We have to run." Arijit misses the bus because he was rolling a joint and didn't see the bus. They ate him in front of our eyes. Kalua looks sad.

I suddenly remember that I left my bag and my cousin sister in the dressing room at the theatre. I get off the bus and run back. My shoes are slippery, but I can't take them off because there are dead leaves and dead limbs everywhere. I get lost almost immediately. Then I find my cousin, who is a child again. She makes a fuss, so I pick her up and run with her in my arms. She squeals in delight. Five minutes of running and she's adult again and fucking heavy. I put her down and pull her along by the hand. She is reluctant about running but caves when I tell her how important it is that I reach the theatre in time to perform.

Then she's gone, and the zombies are right behind us, running with geometrical precision up and down walls, climbing trees and eating crows. Now it's me, Trisha Barua and two elderly people who we have to keep slowing down for, but of course we can't leave them behind. Through a long tree-lined avenue we can see Somak, Soumashree and Kalpan, all dressed in bright purple, doing their scene. Our panic intensifies. Following is the conversation at this juncture.

Me - Fuuuuck.

Trisha B. - Run!

Me - Zombies! Sitting on a park bench, eating that dead person who looks like bald Thakurda!

Trisha B. - Oh the play's gonna be fucked.

Me - No, Dr.Lal will be praised by critics for staging it during and despite the zombie attack.

Trisha B. - (fearfully) - Oh we are dead.

Me - We could still make it.

Trisha B. - Sir will kill us, though.

Me - I wonder what scene they got to.

*Behind us, zombies jump on the elderly couple, tear their heads off and eat them*

Me - We should go around a different route, this one is filled with zombies.

Trisha B. - But Dr. Lal?

Me - I'd rather we were late than dead. (hehahah)

Trisha B. - But Dr. Lal.

Me - Ok, we'll run through the zombies. I hope the play is worth it.

*We run. I wake up shivering with terror. We arrived AFTER the interval, so the play was ruined.*

Dream Diary #2

I'm thirteen again, but this time I'm strangling people. Nice people, but they pointed and laughed when I came to school without my clothes. I got dressed and they weren't laughing when their faces went blue, oh no.

Bloop

Gtalk statuses, in the order that i saw them :

1. happy
2. just because
3. god bless you
4. I'll cry instead
5. berate jabo
6. is so evil
7. listening to ziggy marley


my status was Busy.

Dream Diary #1

Weird dream I. I kill two children. I decapitate them. Not clear if that's how I killed them or if that was incidental. Anyway, I then spend an hour of dreamtime running around trying to hide the heads, which are in a clear plastic bag. Hmm, I think harriedly, should I drop them from the roof, let them splatter on the street and confuse people into thinking they were vegetables? Do I roll them down the stairs of another building and hope no-one associates it with me? Do I just keep them in my room, take them out later and dump them somewhere? Decisions, decisions. Possibly inspired by Dexter, except I know the kids, they live near my house. Arr.

Day in July

Interesting twenty-four hours. Studying, check. Movie-with-popcorn, check. Teaching, check. Tattoo, fucking hell yeah check.

no worries

Hakuna fucking matata, okay? Now get me drunk already.