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, October 18, 2005

Sponge Dream

Lying sick in my old attic room on Griffith Park Blvd. My mom is sitting next to me with a galvanized bucket of sponging medicine, mopping my forehead with a giant swab, chanting a "cure" with her far away voice. The sponge she's using is an undulating, effervescent living creature---each time she brings it to my face for another medicinal wash I can see a schaumy mass of bubbles brewing in the fissures. I peer over the side of the bed to watch her "sponging technique". As soon as she plops it in the bucket, it darts out of her hand to move behind a large chunk of galvanized bucket coral. While I'm holding myself up on the side rail to get a better look, I lose my grip and slip down onto a drenched batch of bedding. Is this all my sweat? My mom chortles: "Boy, you're sweating so much it looks like you're in a washing machine, heehee". I'm buoyed by the sheets, but the sweat is running out of my pores. My hands can feel all the facial seepage while the bed keeps filling up.

Later the bed has morphed into a night pond filled with water lilies. I'm in the garden of my aunt L's house---the light from her kitchen illuminating a cluster of guppies swimming round my body. Surrounded by a starry sky with frogs and crickety sounds, I can hear my mom speaking calmly as though I were still in the room. But her voice trails off and I yelp for her to come back. I know my fever will worsen if I stay in this dark pool and now in a hurry---working to extricate myself from this backyard bayou. A heavy dark plastic sheeting is hooked over the pond border, collapsing each time I try to raise myself out. As I close my eyes to meditate, a montage of educational footage from primary school warns about drowning people having superhuman strength. (The narrator sounds like George Stevens from his classic "D-Day to Berlin"). There's a "highlight" portion where some Tarzan guy jumps into the ocean to save a drowning man (to illustrate the danger). As the two are fighting each other for water supremacy---they're both drowning---a Jaws shark starts circling. The scene switches back to the smiling narrator who says: "Join us next week folks, when we find out what happens to our heroes".

I'm away from the edge now, dog-paddling towards the middle of the pond where the lilies are. I get nowhere and so turn over to do a backstroke. Now my legs and feet are tangled in a patch of...lotus roots? My feet and legs are suddenly grazed by something
. The closer I get to the center, the easier it is to move---as if being pulled by a current. I finally reach the lilies and hold on to the edge of the biggest one, but it collapses. I can feel something sucking at the bottom of my feet. The lilies are turning now, round and round and I can feel the undertow sucking everything down.

Later I'm standing in a middle of the drained pond. It is alive with woebegone trilobites, catfish and
little guppies all flopping and sucking for the mother pond. Near the ledge where my bed was, I see the same sneaky sponge sliding behind a large outcrop of bucket coral.


Blogger Zataod said...

A very enjoyable read, despite the squeemish feeling your dream evoked in me.

10:38 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I was wondering where you've been hiding. Busy-ness I presume. Hope to see you visiting and posting at your site more often. If not I surely understand.

I'm a UROSCMK (Euro-Schmuck)

10:58 PM  
Blogger RuKsaK said...

With your writing, regardless of the startling and always impressive prose, there is an undercurrent that burrows below my skin and forces, yes forces, an emotion on me. This was no exception. The whole familial pleasantry of this one is just a veneer for the claustrophobia I felt reading it. You made me feel like I live in a town the size of a matchbox. Does that make any sense?

11:03 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Maybe the miniaturizing has to do with (for lack of a better clue) the "Sponge Bob Effect". I really don't know. It's a wet dream in any case.

My mind often feels like a garbage compactor, so the matchbox idea is apt. I torch a lot more dreams than I keep.

Events and things dovetailed in this dream more than usual. The sickbed as backyard pool as sickbed switcheroo had me really shaking my head when I woke. I was both excited and terrified at the feeling it left in me. The sweating mirrored my actual sick state when I dreamed it. I was soaking wet.

Your comments here are inspiring for me Ruk. I thank you from the bottom of my sick and twisted heart.

verification word from poland: WSEKA

12:07 AM  
Blogger Alice: In Wonderland or Not said...

The quaint nice feeling of the family love and care sort of melts into the horrrors of what one feels when young sick and hallucinating with fever; it put me in the mind of something that occured to me once when I was young and really ill with a high fever and was indeed hallucinating.I recall it and it was surreal and horrifying at the same time.

I can't help but wonder what it means for you to have dreamed such a thing.

To have the abilty to express it such is a gift but does it not bother you some these dreams?

12:54 AM  
Blogger transience said...

i'm sponging off the images as they stick to my skin. i believe the chills and the fevers are just trapdoors into a surrealm of phantasm. maybe we all should get sick more.

2:41 AM  
Blogger Patry Francis said...

I feel like I've spiked a fever just reading this. It is so visceral. There's something very primal about it. The waters at the end seem amniotic, and that living sponge reminds me of the afterbirth.

5:24 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

alice: i. w. o. n.
I can't help but wonder what it means for you to have dreamed such a thing.
To have the abilty to express it such is a gift but does it not bother you some these dreams?

Only sometimes, Alice in Wonderland or Not. I'd be a bit worried if these things didn't surface. You might be surprised to find out what's lurking in your own subconscious (It's simply a matter of technique) if you chose to pursue it.

To put some perspective on your comment, I do tend to post only my ooky dreams/nightmares. If I tried to work out each and every one, it would be a full-time job....hmmm.

Yes indeed. I guess it has to do with our psychic defense mechanisms. I tend to be much more protective of myself in the day than at night. I tend to prompt the vespertine creatures from out of their hiding. ;-)

patry francis
I know us mothers are privy to these visceral visions of afterbirth and amniotic liquids. "Us mothers you ask?" Why, I am! Have you got any idea how many times I've been referred to as "You mother?"

9:04 AM  
Blogger floots said...

Yeah but without all those sponges everywhere would be flooded.
(Had to make a silly comment - I found this dream curiously disturbing.)

WV = aracmil (a machine for grinding spiders

2:07 PM  
Blogger Patry Francis said...

Can I call you Mom from now on?

Love the banner by the way--the colors, the turquoise light behind the last name, the positioning just beneath Gulnaz' watchful eyes! Thanks, Finn.

3:24 PM  
Blogger . : A : . said...

"Now my legs and feet are tangled in a patch of...lotus roots?"

This is the first time I remember having read something in your deam that you have not distinctly remembered or been able to articulate. Brings in the 'having dreamed' effect to it.


3:35 PM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

After reading your excellent prose I feel exhausted and a bit like a toothpaste tube that has been squeezed and manipulated from its original shape to something other that what it was.
My toothpaste trails bleed out of my mind and merge with your own text and then I feel, as though some outside force is at work,that I am being reconstructed into a dream fantasy of some divine creation.
Heady and enthralling stuff.
I don't know what any of it means but then again, that is precisely the point isn't it?

5:12 PM  
Blogger Potted-flower said...

Your bed is a pond of sweat with guppies? Right. I marvel at your imagination, finnegan. Amazing.

7:17 PM  
Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...

Can you buy these sponges from boots and are you only allowd to get them if your with your mum?

7:21 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Silly comments are my specialty Floots. I am a sponge anytime you show up.
I'm curious to know in what ways it was disturbing. This comments section can be useful for revelations.

Aracmilled spiders?! Dried or fresh?

Patry Francis
Call me "You Mother", not Mom.
Glad you're ok with the banner.

Not sure if I understand what you mean by "bringing in the having dreamed effect". Could you enlighten me?

It's definitely not the first instance of an inarticulate response. That's the beauty of archives. :-)

Cocaine Jesus
Carefully read the lyrics to songs you only half know. You love those tunes. You sing them in stuttering glory while you shower, clean, drive, walk, make love and fiddle about. You never really know those words. But it doesn't really matter, does it? Sometimes you do learn all the verses and end up understanding even less.

By the way, I was wondering what sort of toothpaste extruded out of you mind C.J., Striped? Minty? Gel? Regular white? You always make my day with your biting remarks.

Potted Flower
My bed runneth over.

9:00 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

sue dawson-hardy
Come again? Are you referring to the dated British term for a hotel employee, or the back of a car, as in: "She sold sponges (to adults only) from her boot?"

5:15 AM  
Blogger Queen Neetee said...

This is by far the most frightening nightmare that I have read of yours. It was the pond that activated my fear. Dark water, busy creatures, and an ill child slipping helplessly alone through the grip of any kind of resemblance to reality. I found that I held my breath through much of it.
finn, did you dream this during your present illness? I hope you're better.

5:46 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

queen neetee
finn, did you dream this during your present illness? I hope you're better. Yes and yes and thank you.

The vulnerability of the body during illness can sure uncover some dreadful stuff. Especially when you have a tough time breathing.

VW MDDATOY A vibrator for after lunch fun.

7:57 AM  
Blogger Pincushion said...

Ahhhh..feels like you were in a womb there, very visceral! You have a fever or what (methinks!) it has that feverish quality to it..sponges ugggh! never my thing!Too wet and clingy ;)

12:21 PM  
Blogger karma said...

ooo beware those killer sponges!

3:58 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

eww! that pic gave me the willies...I wonder where you find these pictures which are (seemingly) tailor-made for your dreams! do yo shoot them yourself?

reading this made me wonder...do you fear water? sorry, if its a personal question, you can safely ignore it. I wont pester you!

4:05 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

oops that was me in the prev comment...see what I mean by willies...forgot to enter my name!

4:06 PM  
Anonymous Anil said...

now this is really embarassing...again my comment pops up as anonymous...here goes...third time lucky it will have to be...

4:07 PM  
Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...

No I was just being daft, I don't know that one

6:45 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

The reference to a womb makes it even less attractive. Amniotic bed/pond/tomb?

Sponge the Ripper. (For you Virgo)

Fear water per se, no. Fear water filling up my bed and while I'm lying in a dark pond of it at night with creatures close by hell yes.

The pics are gleaned from simple searches on Google Images. I take what I find interesting and crop, chop, and drop in the spin cycle (Photoshop).

Anonymous Jr.
Calm down there. It'll be alright. Take your medicine.

Did you enter "willies" and click: "I'm feeling lucky?"

sue hardy-dawson
Oh. Come on by and be daft whenever you like. I'm the patron saint.

Speaking of daft: "PUAUT" What you scream when the constipation gets out of hand.

9:35 PM  
Blogger Sara said...

christ what a wet (meant biblically) torrentous feeling i'm left with. i'm reading this while working. the simultaneity is beautiful and dutiful. hm. berlin and the rich concurrence.

10:32 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I concur about Berlin and the rich concurrence whatever it means. Not able to quip about the dutiful simultaneity however. You've got me there.

8:02 AM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

Biting comments? Not too biting I hope. I was trying to say that in your hands your prose takes me where it will and I am but a slave to its designs.
Great stuff Finn!

Ordinary Days Wooble Under View

10:39 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I was stretching too hard for the toothpaste pun at the end there.

Of course you realise I love being bit by the Coke Man, especially when he uses that special universal brand of transparent mouthwash only found on the internet called: jelwebwe

3:07 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You are a mind hooligan.

3:08 PM  
Blogger Grafxgurl said...

AAAAAAAAH!!! finneganalot!!! why cant you have a nice simple happy dream for once!! oh man !! SHEESH!! why do you always have such gory gothic, dark, abyssmal dreams?...

come on!! ok dream one nice one for me PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE!!!!??????

9:12 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Why don't you tag someone to dream a 'nice' dream and write about it, just for you.

I live life happily and dream dreadful things.

9:22 AM  
Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...

I bow to your superior daftness, probably in a fairly daft way (not very co-ordinated either)

2:22 PM  
Blogger Perfect Virgo said...

Monsieur Le Finnegan, tes cauchmars sont tres effrayants!

Your sickbed has spawned nightmares of Lynchian proportions. The hallucinatory aspect seems both real and dreamed, like dreaming about a dream. Bed-pool-bed and a bizarre 'montage of educational footage' in the mix.

I was wringing wet after this read, the 'lotus roots' held me in their clammy grip.

10:02 PM  
Blogger Grafxgurl said...

WHY? doyoudream dreadful things?.. or do you pick out the dreadful ones and blog about it?.. or do you dream JUST dreadful ones?..

no i wont tag anyone..lol.. just wondered.. coz all your dreams are so intricate.. and you rememeber all the details!.. whew. if i dreamed dreams like that,.. id constantly be scared togo to sleep!....but it doesnt mean that its not interesting to read!!

9:27 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

sue hardy-dawson
Don't fall off the stage, whatever you do.

perfect virgo
Je n'aurais jamais songé à faire une chose pareille!

This one's been influenced by Muddy Waters, Lynch and sitting too long in a lotus position. Any one of the three (alone) are ok. All three in the same pond make strange bedfellows.

I pick out the so-called dreadful ones which often occur as part of a whole stream of dreams. The odd stuff is what "sticks". Lol, I don't dream only dreadful ones. Just look in my archives. I could however, put a fairly steamy dream blog together. But I'm keeping that stuff to myself.

I find my waking state feels all the more amazing after dreaming a bad one. You know the feeling of relief; everyone does.

I admit that I coerce myself into a "What sort of loonies am I going to see tonight?" sort of state. I've wanted to know all my demons intimately since hiding from them was a losing battle

4:05 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

How could Grafxgurl (or anyone else) even suggest that you write anything other than what you present us in this completely unique blog space? Nobody is forcing anyone to come here.

Finn's writing sends the mind through rinse, wash, spin and agitate. Which is altogether different from being brain-washed.

9:37 PM  
Blogger Grace said...

I have always been afraid of heights (my very few memorable dreams are always in high places), but you may have identified a fear of drowning inme, I had a definite sweat on reading that...pass me a sponge?

9:55 PM  
Blogger The Complimenting Commenter said...

I really like your stories. Very unique and individual. They make my imagination work overtime.

I will accept your challenge to go through your links for comments, but it will take a little while.

10:33 PM  
Blogger Extempore said...

My God, Finn! I am totally amazed at the variety your mind has in sleep - I can't begin to imagine the dips and turns, corners and lines, bubbles and stones while waking! :)

I was scared but I absolutely LOVED the way you've written this. Esp:

"... and now in a hurry---working to extricate myself from this backyard bayou.

2:42 PM  
Blogger Grafxgurl said...

oh wow...sorry...errr... i didnt mean to make anyone defend this blog.. hey i like this blog.. alright will keep quiet from now on.........* walks away hanging head*

4:31 PM  
Blogger rhein said...

is this real? fiction? were you ill? i hope you are feeling better.

5:29 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I do believe Grafx had her tongue firmly in cheek. I welcome everyone's comments including yours. Thanks for stopping and commenting.

My fear of being in dark waters (and drowning) is big enough to induce a heart attack before anything worse occurs. The horrifying creatures living below and their cousins....you know.

complimenting commenter
Welcome. I thought your blog a curious one at first, and then realized why the hell not. Sort of like a Patch Adams of the commenting sphere.

My waking life is often an overwhelming swampload. The dreamworld, no matter how bizarre or terrifying, usually offers me a respite.

don't be so easily defeated. I would expect a spicy retort from you. you can be as grafix as you like in fact.

Is this real? Fiction? Was I ill and am I feeling better?
Yes yes yes and yes and thanks!

7:31 PM  
Blogger gulnaz said...

phew! finn! that was one distrubing dream! these dreams must be hard on you. i had a sort of a nightmare last night, which had me bothered for a good part of the day....i wonder if these dreams disturb you but well they are just dreams or are they?

4:16 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Hard on me? Naw. The stuff I read about the real world is far more nightmarish.

I also see a certain beauty in them. You know, like some National Geographic entomologist who waxes enthusiastically over some vile bug.

9:18 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

My teeth are broken from the intensity here.

11:43 PM  
Blogger Minerva said...

That was very powerful and disturbing too.. It reminds me of swimming in a sea water pool and feeling fronds under my legs - that slimy feeling...

I looked down and the bottom of the pool was covered...


12:56 AM  
Blogger RuKsaK said...

Come on - Dream Finnegan! Dream!

5:06 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Oh yes. I know that ooky feeling well. Nature designed seaweed for a number of porpoises.

I'm still busy sponging off all the littel suckerfishies.

7:56 AM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

I'm there with RukSak. Sleep. Dream. Write.
Leave the coffee alone and grab forty winks.

4:27 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I've been doing a lot of "tossing" in bed. Not very reproductive, I admit.

6:01 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I just saw this after I posted my reply to C.J.


C.J., your timing is impeccable.

6:03 PM  
Blogger Bouls said...

This is absolutely brilliant. I'm speechless. Almost. It conjures up all kinds of interpretations I want to apply to the sudden shift in this seemingly seedy clown character and your misinterpretation of him, leading to the most horrific kind of humiliation anyone could imagine. But I won't. My head swims from the imagery. I'll just let it all settle into my brain as an abstract annoyance, and allow myself to quietly ponder the possibilities. But I must say, it sounds a bit like another unfinished business theme. The picture really intriques me also. Bouls

1:30 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Thanks for your wonderful comments Bouls. I know how your imagination can fly, and it does so with big flapping wings here.

12:39 PM  
Blogger GEL said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

10:32 AM  

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