These constant references to art and artists are making me a bit desperate to do some painting.

21st July, 2011.
Thursday

“Reading the Indian’s cards”
I spend a lot of time in the first dream session of the night with an Indian man of about 30 years of age who seems to be a shopkeeper. (This is not surprising given I’ve been reviewing the novel The Namesake with my senior class and the main characters are Bengali). He’s communicating by showing me large cards with words written on them. I have no trouble reading the words but a number of the sentences make sense except for a single word and I wonder what the point of the exercise is.

“G Drives”
I’m riding a motorcycle but then it switches and I’m a passenger with G driving. The area seems to be near where I attended high school. He stops in at the home of people I don’t know. The kids and I groan and we resent the lack of consultation.

“The A kids”
I’m in an unfamiliar house now. A man sits opposite me at a table, holding his plump infant sons. They look like child versions of Daniel A. I lean across the table and the younger of the infants leans into me with a smile on his face. I put my head affectionately against his. I have my eyes closed as I do this and his father asks me why. I don’t know why I’m doing it, only that it’s comfortable.
Note: Daniel is a former student and works in theatre as a designer/special effects person. He recently posted a photo of himself as a little kid on FB.

“Cath B”
I see Cath Bl. IRL, I haven’t seen her for a while. I take her hand as we begin walking across a grassy field. After awhile we release hands because our hands have become uncomfortable, I think, in the dream, because she is taller than me. She is worried that her house is untidy with unironed washing.
Note: IRL, I remember Cath’s house as only being “untidy” with her children’s arts and crafts because her focus is always firmly on family and friends and she’s a primary school teacher.

Now we’ve gone to somebody else’s house or maybe it’s still Cath’s. I peer into a room that is under construction. A moment later I look back into it and the construction is essentially complete.

“Dog Poo”
I’m back with the man and his children, in somebody else’s kitchen/dining area. I’m cleaning something in the sink, something that has been brought in from outside. The last bit that I wash away looks like a dog turd. When I’m done, I see that Bella pooing under the dining table. I’m annoyed by this and begin to search for bags to clean it up. I find plenty of old bread bags and sense someone beside me helping me.