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

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Doll Dream

I'm anxious about revisiting the bungalow on Ambrose Ave where I once lived. The same laconic Gene Autry cowboy from Saturday t.v. matinees drawls: "There was a little girl who lived nearby. I don't know who she was, but I seen her in my dreams; I'm certain she's the one and it was here". I don't know that it's me talking or some other. Or that this is an old song I've nearly forgotten. But this is like the long ago dream about that same talking, pull-cord baby doll that was both fictitious and real. "You can't possibly remember anything because you left this place for elswhere". At the door, I press on a sad little bellbuzzer that's hooked up to springy electrical wires and hanging from the same battered fascia board and feel the mild charge in my fingers. Brrriiiiiing brriiiiiiing! Behind the blackened screen door I can see the same dark gray corpse of a crone smoking in her rocker. What was her name? She was the woman who used to plant things only at night. The vapors of her cigarette are trailing towards the gridded, galvanized mesh. The smoke comes through like Indian signals revealing that she's got the doll.

At the tail end of a snaking customs queue with Ty, Elena, Geoff, and a much older Gena. They're each wearing a wreath-like "crown o leis" chin-cinched with vines of cascading holiday tendrils. Their heads are bopping to some sort of Hawaiian slide uke that's playing over the p.a. I'm not partaking of the festivities---I keep bumping up against a hodge-podge of dented, military-issue jerry cans. The canisters are stenciled with stippled white symbols, all of them visually suggesting the direst warnings which my dream mind runs with: plutonium, aids ebola, cholera and bubonic pestilence. The "family" directly in front the containers seem infected---something is seriously wrong with their skins. The pink freckled dad with his flattened haircut has got something to do with all of it. He's got the girth of a savior, but is going down with the wife and kids. He's got scabrous blotches coating the back of his arms and neck----poking through the appendage openings of his pristine starched white shirt. He looks like something ancient...beached. I'm trying to get the other four to notice all this, but they are now far back towards the tail end of the line. I'm yelling and waving while the crowd surges, but my vocal projection is chord-cut and feeble---drowned out by the funky cacophony. The four of them are now clapping, stomping and whooping it up---entertaining the crowd around them by weaving a Celtic knot of a well-rehearsed barn-dance. The Hawaiian twang of the p.a. is metallic, hard-edged and deafening. We've moved forward in the line, but the canisters, and the family in front of us, are gone.


Blogger Perfect Virgo said...

I think you arrived somewhere reluctantly on holiday Finn. All the signs are that you don't want to be there. The others are getting in the holiday mood but "I'm not partaking of the festivities." (I know that one...)

I probably try to analyse stuff too much, you know? Trying to make sense of every single event - actual or dreamt is too obsessive. I'm going to have to stop.

(By the way, Superfly plays a mean "slide uke." But you alredy guessed that I'm sure!)

7:59 PM  
Blogger Dr. Charles said...

spooky jpeg! but it fits well. i think disease/pestilence/etc is so nightmarish in your dream posts, and the motif of visiting your old home is ghoulishly well done! the smoke from the old bag who used to plant things only at night was my favorite moment.

8:03 PM  
Blogger RuKsaK said...

This is one of your scarier posts and I wouldn't like to read it or stare at that photo before going into my own dreams. Anyway, the usual startling and vivid imagery. Ah - what I'd do for 1 night of your dreams.

10:58 PM  
Blogger . : A : . said...

Agree with Perfect Virgo. Looks like you have arrived on a reluctant holiday. The customs que gives it away.


1:36 AM  
Blogger transience said...

elsewhere is where i usually go when the local holiday inn is booked. the little braided girl held my name on a placard when the plane touched down.

8:51 AM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

i have given up with having dreams at night. wet or otherwise. what i do now is open the stained, mute, mahogany cupboard switch on chanel F and let those nightmaredream visions wrap me in their harrowing and haunting pictures.
that doll.
that fucking doll.
Take it away.
ugly. brilliant.gene autry.

12:53 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

love the pic of the doll!!
i went on a holiday reading your post. :)

wv- klepff...now isnt that an old teutonic word for cliff, what do u say?

1:21 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Perfect Virgo
Although I try to refrain from analyzing my dreams here---I've posted comments to others on this topic---my eareye antennae always perk up whenever you check in. Yeah, sure that's it here. A dread of flying ( I pretend that it's no big deal just to get through it ) seems to play a large role in my dreams. The reluctant aspect of things is both metaphorical and real here.

I wonder if Superflywebpimp ( our swashbuckling superman ) can play Innagoddadavida on the slide yuke. If he says yes, then I'm ordering a lifetime subscription.

Dr. Charles
The woman was found to have that odd mental illness (I don't remember the clinical name) where they can't throw anything away. Stacks of every imaginable item filled her place. I never got her out of my mind as you can see. I doubt your sort of work would have done her much good.

Your last three posts have a pretty nightmarish quality if you ask me. It seems your imagery doesn't even need the catalyst of a dream to get off the ground. Maybe we can swap and see if we can't meet at a junction.

Customs is a nightmare all its own. I'm pretty sure everyone here would agree with that.

The little girl's placard surely read: "Cyclists Needed For Norwegian Festivities".

Cocaine Jesus
Hehe. That doll looks off obliquely, clamped to her own psychotic thoughts. She never gives you the time of day unless you look away, whereupon she slowly turns her head to look at you.

By the way, channel F is located on one of those UHF frequencies which only comes in when you aren't watching. Sort of like our doll friend.

You went on a holiday did you? Did you bring enough skin cream along?

Klepff is short for someone who steals cliffs. It's Norwegian I believe. We should notify Superflywikepediapimp for a more definitive translation. German for cliff is "klippe"

Try this one: TUKXZIT
Bad skin while attending a formal ball.

5:22 PM  
Blogger _Soulless_ said...

What was her name? She was the woman who used to plant things only at night.

Bbrrr. Sent shivers down my spine. (You almost made me pee right where I'm sitting.)

The doll looks like one of Chucky's groupies. *wide grin* She could be a character in the next installment to the Child's Play series.

Ooh-kay, back to the dream...

He's got scabrous blotches coating the back of his arms and neck----poking through the appendage openings of his pristine starched white shirt.

Eek. Alive and decaying. ^_^

8:17 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

soulless I think her name was Barbara Bush, or something of the sort.
I think it was lies that she planted, but I'm not entirely sure. Maybe she planted spine-less Replicant Republicans.

Pee-pee? You need to wear those things called "Depends" that I recommended in an earlier post. Really good for letting you work in secure comfort.
"Surf 'N Pee" they should call them.

8:32 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


8:33 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

i like your interpretation of it, lol, could also be a quack's zit cream. :)

5:32 AM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

whatever the frequency the station is spot on the mark. third time back and it still sends those shivers a racing.

w v is qcpath (path as in phsyco?)

10:09 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

anonymous Eee-gads are electronic gadgets.

gulnaz Tukxzit could also be a face-lifting proceedure.

cocaine jesus
qcpath as in: "Quickly change your path! Here comes Norman Bates' great grandmother in drag...the worst Psycho of the Universal lot.

w v rpfvmg Really Piston-Firing Version of the Spitfire.

11:33 AM  
Blogger floots said...

seems like this one got to a lot of us
it's ringing on that doorbell as a stranger spooked me
and that doll
she knows something about me
i hope she can't talk
(trouble is the guy in the shop said .............)

2:13 PM  
Blogger Grace said...

Pretty eeerie! I wonderd if there is a connection between the first and second part? Seems to take a leap into the unknown, from the vaguely rembered?

5:56 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I have no clue about any connection here. There were other fragmented sections in the night of dreaming, but these two were the only ones that properly stuck. I placed them side-by-side like a diptych, but not with
any sort of dovetailing. The first was not merely a vague remembrance, but a recurring thing. There are many parts to it that come with subtle variations; this one simply being the most recent.

6:32 PM  
Blogger Queen Neetee said...

finn, forgive me if I'm taking the wrong stance on this, but I do enjoy guessing at the meaning of dreams, your dreams especially. I've never heard or read the memory of dreams told in such an intellectual fashion as yours.

Anyway....the old crone who plants at night 'seems' to be your subconscious mind that plants undigested images from your waking world into your psyche. She then pulls the string on the doll to play back suppressed verbiage.

The second dream 'seems' to depict the world's acceptance of audio-visual distractions over the very dangers that are killing us all. The more we join in with the fun noisy party crowd, the less truth of destruction we see happening around us.

11:03 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...


I've mentioned in past posts that I wasn't into dream analysis. I refrained from it, feeling it would hinder the writing. Now that this blog is off the ground, my attitude has pretty much changed. In other words, if you want to interpret, have at it! In fact, it might be just the right sort of spice at this point, since most of my commenters are regulars with deft pens.

The "otherness" of dreams is the perfect sort of "verse" catalyst---not in the poetic sense, but as a way of getting time, rhythm, tactile and ephemeral imagery to randomly converge and diverge. Making this otherness of what I dream "Englishable" is one of the reasons put this together.

VW = "BEETLE" (not really) Actually it's PIPJXIZO which is a new, hyper-sugary breakfast cereal (now with flouride!)

11:43 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...


H. P. Lovecraft once wrote, "a trace of some dim essence, more than form or weight, of a tenuous aether, indeterminate."

11:53 AM  
Blogger karma said...

i would never ever go back to a former home ... brrrrrr

2:26 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

If someone you really lusted after lived at an old haunt, you'd be back there dancing the hoochie coochie. I'm sure.

3:42 PM  
Anonymous Cécile said...

Honey, will you please remember to take out the refuse on Thursday?

3:46 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Ok, sweetheart will do.

Do you know where I put my paisley tie?

3:54 PM  
Blogger Potted-flower said...

I've never seen so many adjectives in my life :) bravo, brava

7:14 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

potted flower
Adjectives 'R' Us®

8:48 PM  
Blogger Perfect Virgo said...

Yes I know you fought shy of "dream analysis" for ages Finn. But it seems to me there is now a wealth of fascinating material here so perhaps the occasional analytical comment would be appropriate? I'm pretty sure Grace has some thoughts on analysis that veer towards personal meanings for each of us. So you'll have to spill the beans old chap!

11:59 PM  
Blogger Alice: In Wonderland or Not said...

Shivers up my spine , which feel good to me but wondering about you.
Nice finnegan , gald to meet you.

3:42 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Perfect Virgo
Beans 'R' Us® Like I said, anyone is welcome to analyze, throw darts...whatever.
Have at it Virgo. It's right up your left sleeve to give the rundown. Should be fun for this bandbox.

alice: In wonderland or not
Hello Alice, Shivers 'R' Us® Glad to meet you ditto. Come by for a dose of fork-on-cooking-pot scraping. I'm not always in such darkness at night however. For every memorable dream I catch, I have a pale full of throw-away small fry, which I use for bait.

7:59 AM  
Blogger Grafxgurl said...

ok that kid looks really creepy..MOMMYYYYYYYYY*runs away sobbing*

10:13 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I've given her your address. You will find her under your bed one of these nights.

4:57 PM  
Blogger Pincushion said...

Errr...that doll face has someting so eerie about her..like she's suddenly going to come alive and bare fangs!
Gosh u sure do things to me *grins* spooky thingies! LOL!

4:59 PM  
Blogger Potted-flower said...

hehe, clever

5:55 PM  
Blogger feminine expressions said...

oooooh. wow, what a lovely writing site you have here. so glad i found you in pincushion's comments...

1:30 PM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

personaly i hope that you don't have your dreams analysed. i think part of the joy is the way we can do that for you when no one is looking.
be interested to note what your dreams would sound like in either song or poetry.
maybe a symphony by pierre boulez?

or better still that famous vulcan songsmith HXUUMBNL (or is that just another word verification?)

5:55 PM  
Blogger Patry Francis said...

I'd love to have a shot at analyzing this dream, but I tend to think that the analysis reveals more about the analyzer than the analyzed.

Even when it comes to looking at the doll, personality is revealed. Yes, she's scarey, and kind of psychotic looking, but also very sensual and mysterious. Look at those lips--they're definitely not of the plastic variety.

Keep dreaming, Finnegan so we can all learn more about ourselves.

5:49 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

What's spooky-thingy is that last sentence you mangaged. It sounds like something a little doll would say just before baring a full set of piano keys.

feminine expressions
thanks muchas gracias arrigato danke schoen.

cocaine jesus christ superstar our lord and savior amen
I wouldn't think of getting any sort of clinical analysis; not when I've got the services of my "peeps" here :-∑
Interesting about putting these to music. The idea has come and gone---it's just the sort of thing I'm interested in.
One revelation about music that I discovered is that even the most ridiculous-sounding songs, like the 3-Stooges or Laurel and Hardy theme songs, can sound like lullabyes or sad incantations when slowed down. Try it.

HXUUMBNL No, this is actually the unofficial name given to the effect of Homo Erectus' so-called "lost tale". Whenever you get a funny itch that follows you around down there, it's called "The HXUUMBNL effect".
I hear Pierre Boulez had a worse problem. His was the much more malicious PUWEMXG syndrome, which only occurs while conducting orchestras.

patry francis
Oh yes you've nailed my thoughts with that first comment. That said, I believe with this boat of commenters, the game would be a hoot.

8:04 AM  
Blogger doriandra said...

nothing quite surpasses the common dented, military issue jerry can in sheer shrouded terror! i do appreciate your warped vision as it wobbles along through your fine art of stortytelling.

8:34 PM  

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