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

Sunday, May 22, 2005

San Remo Dream

Floundering around once again in San Remo looking for my wallet and Ufe---the same Swedish guy I once traveled with in Brasil and who in my dream is the same sinister cad who once pinched Brasilian crusados and passport. He's surely counting his thick wad of purloined Lira. Later, near the water, a 19th century line of gas lamps are hissing and casting flickering pole shadows on the quay. I'm half looking for Ufe and half on my way back to some vaguely-remembered hotel room but have no idea where it might be. Lost. I cross the tracks in front of the quay and sense a train around the corner.

Later in old Flamingo Hotel Lobby changing speeds on the stick-shift controlled shoe polisher working my Alden Oxfords towards a movie star shine. I'm pleased and let go of the polishing control-shifter. Stepping back onto the ultra dense horn-a-plenty carpet I begin losing traction and end up ice-skating towards an orderly row of one-armed bandits being fed-and-pumped by middle-aged women with hard-laquered space-helmet hairdos. I go from slipping and near falling into a spastic Fred Astaire. It's entertainment! Everyone turns to watch and I'm hot stuff and feeling like the Tasmanian devil and now jumping into a dervish move. Suddenly I'm being splashed by a blinding spot with drum-rolls and MC trying to sucker me into double-time and egging the crowd with 'faster!' 'faster!'. I'm lost in my own giddylaughter comic speed. I'm in a tux-and-jockey shorts get up with black socks and spats over shiny shoes and this realisation cattle-prods me with an instant rush of doom-and -failure---everyone's laughing at me---I try to camouflage my shame by trying out an entertaining spin move but the slippery soles are like walking on glassy ice, and I pratfall face forward. More laughter, but by staring into the flowered carpet I'm able to avoid eye-contact. Still face down, I start snaking my body towards the entry and the distance (not more than 10 meters) seems to lengthen as I approach. Now out of breath from the crawling struggle I signal into the spotlight that I want a time-out. I sit up and see my mom and a man (who could be my dead father) looking at me fixedly.

I'm tending succulents in a huge desert-theme glass house with my 5th grade teacher (the now-deceased Mrs Bitzer) who's there working under me as a sad-sack gardener. This is the same Mrs. Bitzer I once disliked (like a plague rat) who's now breaking my heart---I know she's without any home or family---her creased little face so damned sad and lonely---'such a sad lost old woman'. She reads my mind and starts penetrating me with wet eyes and I feel like I'm going to break down and so quickly turn away. It dawns she should be dead and so I'm now apprehensive about being here inside this big plant house with her. Up in the skyglass I see veils of spider gauze curtaining the double-domed surface. One of the glass panels is hanging open and the corner of my eye keeps catching glimpses of fast moving (trap-door?) spiders.


Anonymous milktea said...

I suck at ice-skating and almost sprained my ankle once.

2:32 AM  
Blogger transience said...

i tended succulents myself--just last week. i couldn't believe it was such a satisfying sport.

and this

"One of the glass panels is hanging open and the corner of my eye keeps catching glimpses of fast moving (trap-door?) spiders."

inspired such wonderful imagery in my overactive, imaginative head.

2:54 AM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

the first half reads like a movie from the b/w era.

...getting lost, gettting hurt and getting embarrassed in front of family and an old teacher.
I know she's without any home or family---her creased little face so damned sad and lonely---'such a sad lost old woman'. She reads my mind and starts penetrating me with wet eyes and I feel like I'm going to break down and so quickly turn away. we don't always want to be found out. it also reminds me of an old teacher of mine, who did not seek treatement for her cancer, rather chose to die...till date i wonder what went on in her head to reach that conclusion, is loneliness that bad?

i'm with trans, you sure inspire one's imagination.

7:23 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Milktea, Perhaps try ice-skating on a carpet.

Transience, I don't know what sort of 'succulents' you tended, but if you found them satisfying, all the power to you!

Gulnaz, I don't understand my emotional behavior in dreams. I'm not one for the standard dream analysis, so I tend to just move on. But whenever something as uncharacteristic as this happens, I turn my head at it like a puzzled dog.

8:01 AM  
Blogger . : A : . said...

Agree with Gulnaz's comment on this one. Was about to write something similar but she has said it for me.


8:22 AM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

dreams like these are made of better haluconigenics than any lsd and yet contain the same amount of exciting and alarming images that prickle your conscience and act like abrasives in your imagination.

rubbing away at all the stereotypical story plot lines and reducing a formulaic approach to impossible degrees.

highly original. thought provoking and highly entertaining.

12:42 PM  
Blogger RuKsaK said...

Succulent in the plural - fabulous. Gorgeous use of hyphens too - I bloody love hyphens.

1:04 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Jesus Addressing this to Jesus is always a kick, I've gotta say. Thanks for your imaginative and original comments---but then, what else should one expect from a Jesus?

1:10 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

puzzled dog look....there u go again, reminds me of a boxer i use to have, i use to call her gucci, she was that stylish...a total brat and wanted to play the whole day! she would often wear that look.

.:A:.glad we share the thoughts on this.

1:46 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

.:a:. Thanks, I feel humbled by all the nice feedback from writers I like.

A side note: There's something quite Sphinx-like about the look of your name. The more I look at it, the more compelling it becomes.

2:37 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

RukSak, Thanks. The hyphens always feel like the percussion in writing. I wonder if anyone else feels that way.

By the way, your piece about your friend Robert Steadwards moved me immensely.

A great eulogy.

2:40 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

finnegan learnt you are a teacher from your comment at cj's. you must be a very inspiring and imaginative teacher.

3:17 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Gulnaz, my students often look at me like Gucci once did. It either proves I'm keeping them on their toes or else that I should find another profession, hee hee.

4:18 PM  
Blogger Perfect Virgo said...

The theft of possessions is something of a recurring theme. I dream that one too Finnegan. Do you think it speaks of insecurity? I'm not a succulent guy by the way, I'm a cactus collector.

9:03 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Virgo said: "Do you think it speaks of insecurity?" Yeah, it seems that it's the leitmotif of many of my dreams; at least the ones I find compelling enough to sit down and reconstruct with these funny things we call words.

"I'm not a succulent guy by the way, I'm a cactus collector".

I'd like to think I'm a succulent guy, but then that's for the ladies to decide.

Thanks for your droll comments. I always enjoy them

9:33 PM  
Blogger d.K.m said...

me linked u :))

3:36 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

if they loook at you like that...then you MUST be a good teacher, i wish i had had a teacher like you. i did have a couple of good teachers though most were indifferent to their job

5:55 PM  
Blogger Perfect Virgo said...

I don't mean I'm prickly Finnegan, at least the ladies haven't said so thus far and in fairness they are the best judges!

8:12 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Kilshore Me thank U ;-¡

Gulnaz I guess everyone here and elsewhere has their own share of tapped-out teacher stories. It's not an easy profession, but if one chooses it...

Virgo Aren't they now!

9:16 PM  
Blogger Roger Stevens said...

I collect cacti. And lithops. They didn't winter very well I'm afraid.
I lost all but one.

I regard hyphens more like pauses.

Great - writing. Now have a glass of wine - you deserve - it...

10:58 PM  
Blogger Pincushion said...

I always think of dreams as a cubist painting! So many different angles, all juxtaposed together and yet they are the same painting! And yes theres always more to discover in them..isn't there?
Surfed in from CJ's and enjoyed every minute :)..fascinating to know you are a teacher..I used to be one too..past tense!
Will surely be back..and am linking to you..hope you don't mind..thank you!

10:26 AM  
Blogger Christopher said...

Whoa. That was quite a little trip.

'spastic Fred Astaire' is a great little line.

Great stuff, man. Will add to my roll if you don't mind.

2:45 PM  
Blogger Jennynyc said...

Great picture. There's a pattern of dead people in your dreams. The line about your dad staring at you is quite powerful.

8:31 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

PincushionGreat cubist painting analogy.
I'd never looked at it that way, but of course! I'd always seen things from a typically 'surrealist' perspective---or warped perspective, if you will---DiChirico, Buñuel, David Lynch and even Monty Python. But yeah, fragmented space-time disjointedness is really what makes dreams so damned fascinating to explore and experience.

ChristopherThe spastic Fred Astaire was really the result of feeling at one with controlled chaos--no consequences for retarded letting loose--oddly exhilarating. Thanks for your kind comments and link.

JennyNYCDead folks are definitely in my dreams more these nights. Could be due to a good friend struggling not to enter that realm yet. I've been brooding over it naturally.

9:30 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

you are going to south of france, i read on your commet at a's. i have heard its a beautiful place, i hope you will be clicking some pictures from there. :)
enjoy yourself.

8:45 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Gulnaz, Yes, it's true. Provence (south) and Perigord (south west) are lovely.

But don't listen to me. Here's an account from the owner of Le View Logis:

"One day at the reception desk of Le Vieux Logis we saw a guy arrive, barefoot, bald as a newborn, dressed only in an old pair of shorts. We showed him my grandfather's room and he signed his name in the police registry that every innkeeper had to keep in those days. It was Henry Miller. He was supposed to spend one night. Instead he stayed on for a month and wrote 381 letters."

His time spent there became a part of his book The Colossus of Maroussi including these lines:

"I believe that this great peaceful region of France will be a sacred spot for man, and when the cities have killed off the poets this will be the refuge and the cradle of poets to come. France will someday exist no more, but the Dordogne will live on just as dreams live on and nourish the souls of men."

The key word here is 'dreams';-)

I do plan on clicking a ton of pix this time round, but I'll try and practice some restraint. The reason why is Transience's avatar. Some people believe it's illustrative of Bjork's 'shining soul' or 'internal essence' or something else along those lines. Actually it's Bjork as a camera; an illustration of what can occur when you get a bit snap-happy.

2:05 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

oh thank you so much for that excerpt! it was sweet of you! i had seen some photos of that part of france or maybe some shot in a movie, a long time back, and what had struck me, was the light, it had a softness, a mellowness to it...perhaps it was just the shot but since then i've been enamoured by the words, 'south of france'.
it must be a sign, this is the third or fourth refrence i have come across of henry miller's in the last few days....i guess i'm being told to read him, i havent till yet. :(
btw, if i think of a song, subconsciously or the idea of a song, i end up coming across it soon enough...just some silly trivia to amuse you. :)

2:50 PM  
Blogger transience said...

only you, finn, would explain away bjork's avatar in such poetic terms. some people think she just pukes cum. which is kind of an imaginative description, too. in a different way, of course.

2:02 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Trans, Pukes cum? If that's what she's doing, then I think I understand what a 'splash screen' is.

7:45 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love the way that photo looks. Did you take it like that or what?

Also wanted to add how strange and beautiful your writing sounds. Great.

7:47 AM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

pukes cum like succulents weeping in a gaggle of growling bitch dogs that view life in monchrome picture flicks that a puzzled dog hyphented in plausible pauses that paws at your lap like a gucci boxer with a shallow sphinx sphincter that opens and closes to the percussive theft of possesive prickly cacti.

hmmmm, guess i need my regular fix. i've been hallucinating again.

i have probably said this before but Jesus is the Anglised version of the Greek Jesu and Jesu is Greek for Joshua and no i am very much NOT a christian.

11:53 AM  
Blogger . : A : . said...

How was your travel to the South of France?

5:53 PM  
Blogger Perfect Virgo said...

My copy of "The Lost Highway" finally arrived Finnegan. As soon as i've watched it I'll drop you an e-mail with my thoughts. That's after I've wrestled it back from my DVD-grabbing, CD-pinching, money-borrowing lads!

7:10 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Jesus, Thanks for your funny post here.

I've just got back to the old homestead but an hour ago after a long day of craziness which began in Avignon. I'll tell you about it as soon as I'm recovered. (I'll be posting a few pages of photos as soon as I've wrung them through Photoshop).

Oh, and I do know that you are decidedly not a Christian. I gathered that from a few of your posts, heh heh.

.:a:., It was chock full of light and inspirational moments, as well as near disasters and all the rest. Thanks for asking.

I'll be clicking to your site as soon as I'm settled down and ready to absorb.

I wrote up one of my dreams en route, which I'll be posting asap. I'll be by to see what you've written since I last came by.

Virgo I think you'll like the imagery and intensity of the film, as well as the music. In fact it'll be the perfect antidote right this moment. Think I'll get me some milk and cookies, light up a doob and get good and lost.

I'll be visiting your site to see what you're up to mañana.

9:12 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

glad to see you back :):)

9:06 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Gulnaz Thanks, it's great (or maybe not) to be back home.

7:27 AM  

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