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Dream fragments from 3 days

May 3, 2015

I’ve been fasting from books since 4.28, hoping I would hear my inner voices more clearly. It hasn’t led to meatier dreams that I remember though. I probably need to go to bed earlier, sleep longer, and wake up without Spouse working from home. Anyway.




  • Oklahoma
  • Translating
  • Not being recognized (by name)
  • Rowing in a boat with 2 other people
  • Basketball players as examples

= = =

Heart-shaped leaf, floating on water — attached at stem end (to a rock?), but floating, moving, responsive.




  • Transgender
  • Looking at myself in the mirror: my hair is sky blue; I have 1 or 2 skinny braids in it.




  • Poetry written by the disaffected, the oppressed
  • Gender
  • Changing the world via poetry
  • Epistolary w my mother: I sent her a typed letter on handmade paper (part usual letter stuff, part my own poetry); she sent back my own letter, but with her own comments in blue ink interleaved with mine. I re-read my own part to refresh my memory (and found pleasure in what I’d said) before I was going to read her words. And then I woke up (not having read her words).


5.1 is the first time I recall that I dreamed about Oklahoma any time recently. It could just be that I’ve heard from my aunt who lives there recently, and I wrote her back. But if Oklahoma is a motif (the way New Mexico is definitely a motif), I don’t know what it means.

I’ve been thinking a lot about translating lately because I want to do it. I’ve been reading poetry in translation. I’ve been wondering how I would go about it.

I’ve also been thinking about experiences that aren’t easily put into words: can I find a way to write them into poetry?

I keep dreaming about names, including being called by OldName. Last week, someone searched for my blog under OldName which kind of pisses me off as I changed it almost 2 years ago.

Spouse and I watched some of the NBA playoffs last week, mostly to watch former UK basketball players. So we saw Patrick Patterson and John Wall play. I didn’t see any closeups of PP, but JW has a nice smile. My favorite UK players all have nice smiles, and they display them periodically; now that I think about it, I don’t pick as a favorite anyone who is serious all the time. (Also, they’re very likely to be cute.)

The leaf floating on the water… is probably a motif for me, “going with the flow”. I have a heart-shaped face, but the heart shape is probably more about my motivation? (Or it’s just a pretty shape? I don’t know.)


Transgender continues to be a motif, since I started using the word to describe myself (after shying away from it for years). Maybe it keeps showing up because I feel like I need to ‘come out’ to more people? Except… I don’t know anyone who would care. There’s few things more deflating than ‘coming out’ to someone about a significant issue, only to have them be bemused, uncomfortable, and change the subject as quickly as possible. “No questions”… tells me something I am always sad to learn about somebody I liked.

I’m getting closer to getting my hair dyed in a shade of blue, but I was definitely not considering sky blue. That has to mean something in particular.

My hair hasn’t been long enough for braids in a very long time. In the dream, though, the hairstyle was kind of feminine looking, but overall, I looked nonbinary. I’m not sure how I achieved that, actually.


The protests in Baltimore City have been much on my mind lately; I’ve been following things closely on Twitter.

Can poetry actually change anything?

I told someone I want a pen pal to talk poetics with; I wrote a blog post about it; I’ve been thinking about people I know (Twitter-friends). Maybe I’m my own best friend to talk things over with? Because… how many times have I been in an epistolary relationship with someone, and yet, when I receive their letters, all I really want to find out is what they thought about what I had written them? And almost invariably, it turns out that… they didn’t respond to anything substantive that I had written. They just wrote about their own stuff.                         I no longer think that’s actually a conversation — that’s people talking past each other.

I want to converse with someone who is actually interested in what I’m saying. That… eliminates from consideration all my relatives, I’m pretty sure. With my relatives, I always feel guilty about ever mentioning my own experiences, because I know they’re not interested. And yet, if I don’t talk about my own experiences, I don’t have anything to contribute (except for telling them how great/interesting/whatever they are), which is fine for a little while, but if that’s always how things go — I’m constantly supposed to be the adoring audience sitting at your feet, never allowed to say anything that you or anyone else listens to — it’s depressing as fuck.

And if/when no one ever asks me any questions… I’ve finally finally learned, that’s not a relationship that I want to have. No matter how cool or interesting the person is — we just aren’t compatible.




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