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

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Vicky Dream

I Saw Vicky under wet skies with the same subtle lisp so slight it almost wasn't. We're walking up monumental flight of 'heroes only' stairs that hardly anyone ever uses because of too-insane-for-humans zigzag slope and the same ones Laurel and Hardy trudged up during Mack Sennett reign---piano-movers in Music Box up and down and 3 stooges with ice melting scene later....Silverlake....rain. Vicky telling me she loves the sound because it's balm rubbed into her soul through the umbrella...but now forceful windwhipping gusts and no umbrella because tumbling down the hill. 'Let them go. They aren't good enough because of the heavy hail coming down'. Waxed Hubmart banana boxes stacked up and I tell Vicky 'Look, we only have to flatten them and hook-link them together for a ride down to the reservoir over all this baby spring grass'. She doesn't understand, but smiles anyway. 'George, you're not there yet'....Moody turquoise waters way off down long stair perspectives and now she's sad with the fun-sucked out telling me 'I'm dying' just like before. My panic overwhelms me not knowing what's happened---Are you? Is it really so serious?

Later. Crystal method soundtrack rushing atom-smashing through cylindrical caverns both ancient and modern. Water channels. Is this where they filmed 'Them'? No, that was a functional space where water flowed inwards the sea....this is more clinical and pristine; angioplastic carotid. There's wetness in here. Bloated walls. I stop and try to map out where to go---now seminiferous wide forks ranging into foggylight. There's someone out there. People muttermouthing 'gotta fix...' and '...might....might not...'. Now sounds not far away but right next to my ears and gicky like sticky meat. I know it's an operation on me and so start singing and now Vicky once again with me but this time to help. She runs off yelling 'Come on George!' but instantly no longer there---suddenly me all alone and Vicky so fast away. I thought I'd lost her forever because of death but she came back and this time you'd better get it straight. You need to run and catch her---no more reprieves--so much lost---don't lose it again....Now my cell phone ringing and Vicky laughing on the other end chuckling about some wonderful garden tomatoes from Crete that her mother wanted me to make my pizza sauce with. The cell slips and then I stop and stare down at it floor vibrating; jitterbugging like some Ma Bell crab and when I pick it up it's Vicky off distant; bad connection, then suddenly replaced by that horrible phone lady siren---that same terrifying telephone moan that scared me half stiff in my ancient once-upon a time drooling and I wake up damp and pulses pounding and no Vicky.


Blogger transience said...

that first sentence just drew me in. thank you for this waking dream.

1:25 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Picture better than a Rothko.

2:54 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

What's a Rothko?

I know of a Costco and an old chocolate syrup called Bosco. ;-(

Just joking. If Rothko had lived later he might have gone the way of James Turrell. Since paint doesn't emit light. He was very much focused on light.

5:24 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Thanks Börk. You're just the heroin(e) I've been looking for. Love your site and prose-poems. Too good not to link.

6:51 AM  
Blogger transience said...

see? this is why i like dreamers. they are justifiably affectionate. thank you. i shall pedal back soon.

12:36 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Transience; 'I shall pedal back soon'.

Tricycle, bicycle, unicycle on over Transcience.

When I cycled over to your site I was amazed at all the self-propelled contraptions circling your wagon!

Does your site emit some other sort of aphrodisia besides your seductive writing?

Wicked good

1:57 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

So haunting and sad.

2:30 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Anonymous said: 'So haunting and sad'.

This one really got to me upon waking, because Vicky was so alive---voice, eyes, mouth and all. This is the sort of dream that makes reasons for not wanting to analyse my dreams seem rather lame, because I want to know what her presence here means.

Do the dead really visit when you dream about them. Is this where their souls perhaps reside? In the thoughts and dreams of those who knew and loved them?

2:35 PM  
Blogger Holden said...


I like your blog so much...

Keep on dreaming and posting!

Zurich rules!!

Dancing With Tears In My Eyes

9:17 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Matthias said: ''Zurich rules!!''
Well put Matthias. You've undoubtedly been here before.

Thanks for the nice words, and I'll do my best to keep on posting stuff here.

9:27 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Matthias, I see now that you're living here. Winterthur or Zurich or both?

Don't you think the cheese here makes for the most awesome nightmares? Chocolate inserted brings down the house...for me anyway.

9:30 PM  
Blogger Holden said...

My hometown is Winterthur which by the way is truely as cool as Zurich, but I'm living in Locarno/TI right now...
Read my blog ;-)

Cheese...YUCK. Chocolate definitely rules!

Dancing With Tears In My EyesUnd als bewiis für mini Zürcher wurzle no en Satz uf züridütsch, isch au chli blöd wen mir in änglisch kommunizierend.

But the market of readers dictates us...;-|

9:52 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Matthias says: 'Und als bewiis für mini Zürcher wurzle no en Satz uf züridütsch, isch au chli blöd wen mir in änglisch kommunizierend.'

George says: 'Wenn du wusstest wie schlecht mein deutsch ist, wurdest du nicht auf die idee kommen diese frage zu stellen! HEE HEE.

10:04 PM  
Blogger dreaming-neko said...

you have amazing dreams, man!
i am stuck in a dreamers-slump these days :(

7:17 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

dreaming-neko said..."you have amazing dreams, man! i am stuck in a dreamers-slump these days :("

Like I mentioned in my blog comments Neko, you've got to
think 'dream' like a mantra when you hit the pillow, and upon waking you
absolutely must not think of anything else other than what
just went on in your dreams.

If you start thinking other things like what sort of lovely poop
you're gonna be more gone than the turd.

Also, masturbation is out of the question. Don't do it
till you're finished writing or recording your dream!

That, my friend, will get you on the road to pig in shit dream heaven!

It's a discipline you need to build up day by day, just like wanking.

7:51 AM  
Blogger transience said...

finnegan >> it must be my pheromones. trust me. an ovulating woman is like feed to the chicken...wait...that wasn't such a hot comparison. but there you go.

10:49 AM  

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