Waking Finnegan

“We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our whole life is rounded with a sleep” ~ Shakespeare

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Location: zurich, Switzerland

Friday, January 14, 2005

January 14, 2005

Holding a book with an unreadable cover title black on black--can feel the embossing and try to get a braille-like reading but it's too spongy--I begin peeling to find out what's under and find another title hidden and it's white on white but I see the words 'Das Buch der Toten Namen'. The book of dead names? or The book of the names of the dead? I can't figure the German meaning. The book is new-- pages have a printing ink stickiness -- some don't unstick and then the binding lets go and the cover comes off and all the pages are scattered, some still stuck together. I'm looking at the pages--like a Sears catalogue of objects and clothing but this book has lots of strange cooking and medical supplies. Some have no info and I can't focus anyway because lights too dim. Get up to turn on the lights and my foot is numb and feels like a dumpling.

I'm in the middle of some sort of televised conference with panelists and a television audience but haven't got a clue what it's about so I just improvise and ask tongue twister questions like 'How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?' Everyone is laughing at me and the camera lights are much too bright and I can only see a darkened audience. The man on my right whispers to me: 'You need to ask about the T-Set groupings' and I tell him I don't know anything about it but somehow I realize I'm supposed to. I'm sweating profusely and someone in the audience yells out 'He looks like Nixon' and everyone cracks up and then a loud mariachi band with way too many players starts up and the TV announcer yells out over the PA that the audience member has just won 10,000 dollars for the answer. I can't stop sweating and the panelists (players?) are all smiling at me with huge toothy grins.

Trying to wax my bicycle and the wax is much too hard so I light it in the can and it flames up and spills out all over the floor and I throw newspapers over it and they catch too but nothing seems to panic me and I calmly wait and it goes out. My bicycle is like new after the fire, as though it were purified. But the leather seat is scorched black and it crumbles in my hand leaving only the post end clamp.


Blogger Brown Skin said...

It is good to know that not only my life sounds like Kafka sometimes. Too much "burocracy" and complications makes me want to die/kill myself.

12:54 PM  
Blogger Ms Mac said...

Hello Finnegan.
Thanks for leaving a comment on my blog.
Blimey, I'm surprised you get any sleep with dreams like that. May I be an amateur dream analyst and perhaps suggest that the third dream may indicate that you are in control of most aspects of your life and are able to pretty much handle any crisis but there is just one aspect that you feel you need to change- the bicycle seat symbolising that thing. Or, it is your bum telling you you need a new seat because it is sore.
I told you I'm an amateur! ;-)

12:57 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Thankyou for your comment on my Utegirl blog...it's touching to recieve such random kindness,thankyou so much.....xx

4:00 PM  

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