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, May 17, 2005

X-Ray Glasses Dream

Yanking up phenomenal peppercorn clodded tree stumps in a forest clearing---the living trees are thickslabbed giants like California Sequoias--only greyer; more deeply runneled. White and red-speckled toadstools scattered everywhere and I'm impressed by the series of whorled damp patterns my gardener clogs have drawn over the fungi field. I'm uprooting green, red and white clumps of nodal peppercorns---bounties delicately clinging to the rotted black roots and I'm wondering why these ancient stumps are so simple to unearth---breaking off like sponge bricks. No matter because I'm well on with my task---and these being rare peppercorns (I'm certain) and worth handsome sums in gourmet markets. I need to protect this find---stake a claim. But how? Several trails lead off where splayed cracks of cathedral light are spotlighting my cache. And how am I gonna cart all this away?
I'm puzzled about logistics---walking in circles---seeking a solution. Later on I've got green, red and white corn separately laid out in rectangles over the forest peat and noticing how it resembles the Italian Tricolore. Sid shows up and is there giving the peppercorns a good looking over, hemming and hawing so as to consult me in 'business matters'. He seems intent on friendly patter and I realize I can leave the booty with him---locate a truck somewhere. As I leave I'm thinking "As a dead man he's not such a bad person; maybe we can pull of this enterprise."

Photo snapping down bright aisles of some vast Walmart Costco cheapbox all-in-one shopping nightmare where throngs of fatties repulsively bobbing to ridiculous banal loonytoons 'hiphop' Muzak. N is there with her nitwit husband who's in ecstasy in this madness yammering up a storm to himself allthewhile sashaying to the Musak "groove". I'm testing a camera in Digital Equipment and N is in my viewfinder asking me to auto-focus on her left 'better' profile..."Take more glamorous ones than that dolt over there knows how". I'm fumbling with the manual settings (why does this camera have such a heavy feel?) A crowd surges towards us and I'm getting indignant ---all the labored-breathing bodies bumper-car jostling me. I feel puny and wanna leave but it's cavernous; N is no longer herself but one of the hefty crowd. This woman is using her hands and lip-synching 'just chill, baby'.

Later in the same mall edifice with Cécile in Ladies' Underwear; she wants me to help her pick out bra and panty combos and I'm not up for it. I wanna get back to my Photoshop lessons, but realizing I'd better be obliging because of possible recriminations and "What the hell did I do wrong now?" She's inandout door swooshing through variouos changing stalls---other women seem completely oblivious to my state of mind. I'm standing like a mannekin and nobody sees me---perverted sentinel in all this underwear frenzy. I'm trying to be cool, discreet but all these nipples and pubed panties catwalking past me has me excited and flushed at what I might catch a glimpse of. I'm rewinding mental images to an old back-of-the-comix advert selling mail order 'X-RAY glasses' with translucent see-through lady figure who seems unaware of the not-quite-ready-for sex kid who's actually me, oh and did I actually buy that camera over in Digital Equipment? Cécile startles me from behind and starts laughing at my mannequin pose and I'm busted.

More of the same shopping but now C is gone and I'm with a group of unknowns from some 'club'. They've all got the same rainbow-colored NBC peacock stenciled on their t-shirts. A director in a director's chair (much like N's M from earlier shopping section of this dream) is yelping instructions to cameraman and crew---it's no longer a mall but a cavernous film studio; all these events a series of scenes being shot for what I'm dreaming (at this point I'm lucid dreaming and start controlling the action) Director (it's now me in the chair) yells "Action!" and the NBC t-shirted characters raise protest placards and right off another throng of anti-protesters enters from another department and the two groups lunge forward frothing and now doing battle and everyone is whooping it up like "The Day of the Locust". While all the commotion is running I signal with finger to lips for silence and everyone freezes, some giggling and then I yell "Action!" I do this repeatedly and am amazed at the control. But now my director's chair is telescoping on some boom lift---I'm holding fast to the side rails and the action now swaying far below with everyone applauding me while I fade away...up past the roof tops. I'm squinting through hard-edged shadows and stuccoglass reflections to a sign that reads "Hollywoodland". The Capitol Records Building nearby has a tone arm at the top and the glinty spectators are motionless. It feels about noon.


Blogger . : A : . said...

I like your style of writing and pictures. Going to go through the rest now. Thanks for dropping by my blog and commenting. Hope to see you around.

4:39 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Ok .:a:. thanks for the visit and kind words.

8:42 PM  
Blogger Perfect Virgo said...

Leaves me somewhat dizzy Finnegan. This is a kaleidoscope of images which connect together quite tightly.

The episode which stood out was trying to protect your cache. That is a one of the dreams I have had. Feeling very aware of the vulnerability of your possessions to thieves is extremely disconcerting.

Natural that, finding yourself in a Walmart, you should seek out one of the few sections with worthwhile, intellectual items for sale.

The photographic theme even surfaces again in the final sequence where you are film directing.

9:16 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Thanks, Virgo. The film director theme has surfaced on numerous occasions. The protection of dream ephemera feels ludicrous upon waking.

Walmart is the most nightmarish aspect of the dream---I avoid such places like the plague---but naturally what one resists in life will often surface to meet you in your dreams. Fortunately the Walmart in my dream was also a fabrication of 'reality'.

9:50 PM  
Blogger transience said...

of course my attention stayed with the nipples and pubed panties. of course. but if this were my dream, i wouldn't have written it as good as you. this is an exercise in logorrhea, finn. i am reading it aloud and my tongue is a-getting all a-twisted.

6:50 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Trans, I hope this doesn't mean you've developed a-twisted nipples and torqued a-panty pubes. Really I didn't mean it.

Mommy mommy I've got logorrhea in my panty pubes!

7:35 AM  
Anonymous milktea said...

shopping is an art. shopping for undergarments is an advance art.

Just like trans, my attention stopped at that point when you chose shopping for undergarments over photoshop. :)

8:05 AM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

I am fascinated by your writing. Dream words spun in random webs that cystalise then fade as I am teased into following the next thread.

I understand that you actually record your words and then transcribe 'em. Is that so? I just wait until whatever passion takes me and the I scribble like a fucking demon until all the stuff goes away and stops hounding my head.

Are these regular dreams that you 'dress up' as it were or do you simply put down what ever it is you recall of them?

Excellent stuff mate.

[and she is off again isn't she?
thighs 'n breasts 'n navels (still waiting) 'n feet and NOW nipples 'n pubes.
o man.
o man o man.]

11:44 AM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

such a cacaphony of images, it felt like watching a music video.
'I'm holding fast to the side rails and the action now swaying far below with everyone applauding me while I fade away...up past the roof tops.'
i enjoyed reading this post. thanks.

12:39 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...


Are your dreams 'cacaphonic' as well?
(it feels funny just writing that sentence).

I think my obsession with film has got
me 'panning' and 'zooming' in my dreams.

Walking around with my iPod like is a whole
lot like music video. (My theory is that the
Sony Walkman experience is what gave birth to MTV
in the first place) It's very 'drug-like' without
the drugs, which is pretty damned cool.

1:16 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...


"I understand that you actually record your words and then transcribe 'em."

Yes I get up and immediately mine the dream as best I can. But no, I don't 'transcribe' them as such, because the babbling and muttering I set down initially wouldn't make for a very interesting blog...or would it? Hmmm.

Your second question: Are these regular dreams that you 'dress up' as it were or do you simply put down what ever it is you recall of them?

It's a bit of both, naturally, since dreams are so provisional. I try to get the dream events to 'locate'themselves---both on the page and in the reader's mind---in the same way one would transform emotions, visions and reality into poems. I guess it's a bit like 'seeing' a landscape and then going back to the studio with some sketches. The end product certainly looks like a painting more than a real landscape. One still needs to compose and draw and color if one chooses that medium. The landscape is the 'Muse'. I choose panty pubes.

Am I making sense?

2:40 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Milktea, it was 'sort of' a choice to continue shopping.

Pantypubes or Photoshop? Photoshop or My Boner?

A day at the races.

"It's pantypubes and Photoshop. Here comes Photoshop moving around the outside and from the rear is My Boner..it's my boner and Photoshop and now Pantypubes and my boner are heading into the stretch. It's my boner and pantypubes, pantypubes and my boner...and my boner wins by a head! (crowd roars).

3:41 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

the dream i had last night was certainly 'cacophonic'. (lol) i don't remember it exactly but...
i was in some house (not mine, some different city and the house was on a cliff sort a thing) i don't want to be seen by my parents getting into the house so i go the back of the house and get in through a big window which was open. there is this huge outer-space kinda alien out to get me, i'm scared i try to run it is huge like a vacum cleaner's hose and i feel i will be sucked in. and it gets me but i see myelf lying on the bed or something and i think i'm dead. then i see myself outside and this guy i know is lying out in the shade and i pass him and i throw two little gold fishes, one big and one small down below the rocks into the sea so that they can escape into the ocean but when i throw them i think they hit the rocks instead of falling into the ocean but i think i see them alive.
so there is one crazy dream of u.
you said hi to me at a's. so hi there. hehe

4:23 PM  
Anonymous Anil said...

you writing is a treasure...this is indeed a dream diary...the multitude of images you threw my way in just one post took my breath away....it is hard to keep up with your pace...i need some rest and will be back to read more from your archive!

and thank you for dropping by and commenting....you let me discover your excellent blog...

8:49 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Gulnaz, that's an enticing idea putting your dream here on my comments page! I'd love if you---and anyone else---started scrawling their dream grafitti right here on the back alley walls of Waking Finnegan. A back alley blog. Why not?

Anil, Well I can thank Gulnaz for enticing me towards your pages, which I find rewarding as well. Here's to you Gulnaz!

10:48 PM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

perfect sense. interesting results whatever the process.

panty pubes?

i have a friend whose name is panty pudding which in turn is a name, or rather a vulgarity, all the way from jamacia.

it means cunt. which raises another point doesn't it?
why do men have to use the most succulent and most beautiful body part as an insult?

i would love to be a cunt.

anyway, i digress, sorry. keep up these outstanding blogs of yours.

11:55 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I can't answer your question Jesus, but I do know what it feels like to be a cunt. Been called one many times by other motorists while driving---had to go home, look in the mirror to see if it was true.

12:56 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

a back alley blog is an intersting idea. :)

4:40 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Gulnaz...just don't get mugged.

5:02 PM  
Blogger Blog ho said...

yes...wal mart..ugh. particularly enjoyed the panties and the perked nips. dreams of youth.

7:23 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Ho, youth is 'divine'---that is unless you look like a troglodytic troll--- which means you have to live the rest of your life looking at variations on an ugliness, and cursing your parents and all the rest of your cave-relations who'd gotten the bright idea of breeding. I should know.

7:54 AM  
Blogger Christopher said...

Good stuff. The comment "prodigious bonk whollop" you left on Blog Ho's site made me come here and the post above has made me stay. Good stuff.

Still chucking about 'bonk whollop' thats going to keep coming back to me for the rest of the work day.

2:54 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

mugged...another reason to hope for a 'prince' to rescue me from muggers. ;)

5:46 PM  
Blogger eden said...

stunning capture of that building! very nice:)

7:40 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Christopher, thanks for the comment. The bonk whollop thing...did I write that? I guess so, hee hee.

Gulnaz, if it's a prince you want, just make certain it isn't gonna be a frog later.

Eden, thanks

10:57 PM  
Blogger . : A : . said...

Thanks a lot for your lovely comments and the link. I like the link button you have made for me!


8:40 AM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

how does one ever know about such things...

1:17 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

The way to find out if prince is potential frog is by saying you're a French cook.

6:37 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

.:a:., You're welcome about the button. Sorry about the comma disrupting the symmetry of your nominal pyramid -How do you pronounce it anyway?

6:44 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

odd stuff here

6:47 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

i'm sorry i did not get that....what is a french cook?

8:48 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Gulnaz, that's a good question. Here's an example:

9:12 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

lol...now i get it...:)
i'm sure to scare the frogs away by that one.

9:37 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...


10:39 PM  
Blogger . : A : . said...

Anyway you like it.


2:19 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

ribbit....are you suggesting frog ribs now? :)

5:07 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

.:a:. the only reason I'm wondering about pronunciation is because of Anil, which I also don't really know what to do with. It's sort of like pronouncing Uranus.

Gulnaz Your queries are making me rethink the English language!

6:05 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

lol, sorry finnegan no more queries. :)

the sound of 'a' in .:A:. is the sound of the alphabet and the sound of a in anil's is a more open-mouthed but a very short 'aa' sound and 'anil' is a single syllable.
i hope they won't mind my taking the liberty to tell you how their a's sound. :)

9:35 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Gulnaz Thanks for the phonetic clarification.

It would seem enough that we just look at a name and recognise it. I'm a bit more primitive, as I need to internally sound them out.

7:09 AM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

actually i liked your bothering enough to find out the correct pronunciation...i have more respect for such people.

1:48 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Gulnaz---You say the nicest things.

2:46 PM  

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