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vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0312 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-18 | M | A | To buy movie tickets my former girlfriend Karen and I go to New York's 42nd Street. It's busy here, bustling and crowded. But something is different. The tickets are sold by a red haired woman who sits in a small storefront booth. Her makeup and hair are styled after actress Rita Hayworth. I give her money, she hands us tickets and change. But I've given her fifty dollars and she hands Karen only $9.50. At first, when Karen complains, I think she's wrong, and count the bills. But she's right; I complain too. The red haired woman says we've overlooked the $3.50 service charge. I do the math, and wrongly conclude she's correct. We leave, walking to the theater by way of a Russian war zone. Karen has walked this way before. To enter the theater we must run down a wide dirt road, jump over a cement barrier. The moment we dash forward, a machine gun opens fire. I imagine being hit, the bullet lodging in my leg. Karen easily crawls over the barrier to safety, but it takes me several tries, where I'm vulnerable to being shot. Inside, the sprawling movie complex is nearly deserted; the low ceilings hint we're underground. We meet up with a couple who had joined us earlier. I walk to a desolate bathroom, with a hand iron press a white hand towel completely flat. I confront Karen, who seems to no longer to care for me. She says she's sorry, she's tired. We enter the small crowded theater, where her spirits pick up. "Karen, do you have the tickets?" "No," she says, "I didn't bring them." I'm angry, disappointed. Karen has done this before. With Anthony I go to buy tickets.<span style="display:none;">[173]</span> When he locks himself in a room, I become frustrated. "I'm out of here," I say, and decide to leave Karen, to leave this entire bad day behind. Calmed, I ask a uniformed older woman where the tickets are sold. She points to a deserted area, and to three off duty women. I approach them, ask to buy two tickets, put down a wad of bills. An older woman customer appears; there is confusion over her money and mine. One of the ticket women, observing my funds, says she can't take Euros. The scene changes. With the other couple, Karen and I are passengers on a train that winds through a forest, but speeds through sharp winding turns. While the others enjoy the ride, I'm fearful of vertigo. The train goes too fast. | 1FKA, 1FSA, 1MKA, 2JSA | AN D, SD D, AN D, HA D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0313 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-19 | M | A | I'm in the country with Dave B; a festival or event is taking place. While everyone watches what's taking place, I look to the tree tops. High among the branches, a dozen or more Aborigines, clustered like macaques, sit half hidden, silently watching the scene below. As I tell this to Dave, the festival goers stop to hear what I've said. To them I say, "When I talk, everyone listens." Without my camera I can't take photographs. Dave lies on the ground. As he speaks, I look into his mouth. He's missing a front tooth. "I had a great surgeon," he says. Where I would be worried, embarrassed, Dave is unconcerned by the disfiguring gap. I want to talk about the Aborigines; calmly, Dave talks about his tooth. | 1MKA, 2JSA, 2ANI | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0314 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-20 | M | A | In a bunker in Vietnam, an officer leads several medics in an effort to decipher the radio code for the portable radio transceiver. At my turn, I tell the officer I don't know about this sort of thing. I tell him I did eights months as an infantry medic, worked a few months at a dingy aid station. I cover my eyes to hold back tears, begin to weep. I don't care that the officer and medic's see it. Inside the grim bunker, I release my sorrow, tell them of loss, deep loss. | 1MOA, 2MOA | SD D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0315 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-21 | M | A | There are several letters waiting for me at 162 Highland Place. I try opening one. Too thin and flat, I put them all aside. | null | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0316 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-21 | M | A | I'm staying in a house with a friendly, caring man who owns a dog, part shepherd, part chow. When we first meet, the man looks in a cabinet or bureau for a trophy won by the dog. Once the animal and I are acquainted, I love this dog, and the dog loves me. Sitting on the couch, the mutt curled beside me, I can't help but to pet and love this intelligent animal, and turn down a chance to live elsewhere. | 1MSA, 1ANI | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0317 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-22 | M | A | Barefoot in a derelict building located in a run down city, I have cuts on my feet from glass and rubble strewn on the floor. Two porn magazines lie open. One reveals the beautiful face of a young woman casually looking over her shoulder. The other reveals a vagina photographed close up. While I dress the cuts with ointment and small bandages, I ask my brother to guide me. As we do this, a newly arrived man wants to know my education. I tell him, "I have a masters in Obscene Literature." | 1FSA, 1MKA, 1MSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0318 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-22 | M | A | I have a room in a college dorm. A long-haired man, handsome, tall, powerful, shows up at the door. I know this man. Has he stolen something from me? He says, no, he's here to explain. I don't care. I stand up to him. I argue. When I taunt him, yelling, "You hurt me! You hurt me!" he patiently curbs his anger. Hiding my fear, I say, "You should go," shut the heavy wood door, turn the metal latch. But the door doesn't lock; the man pulls it open. My roommate hears him, but without seeing who it is, speaks taunting words. Waking with fear, I forcefully say to the long-haired man, "You should go." | 1MKA, 1MKA | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0319 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-23 | M | A | A college party in South Orange, NJ has ended, but with several other men I'm trapped in a room with a drunken man armed with a loaded 38. snub nose revolver. Everyone is tense; the drunk threatens to kill first one man, then the next, by shooting each point blank in the head or face. Some men crack under the pressure and beg to be shot. Slowly, the drunk falls groggy as a brave man waltzes him around the room, at the same time seeking to disarm him. When he finally succeeds, he calmly hands me the pistol, gingerly lays the drunk on the floor, edges me out of the room, shuts the door. In the stairway with another man, I take out my cell phone. "What's the address here?" I ask. He knows only the street number, which is 82. We go outside to a sizable square yard with a black footpath and well kept garden. Just as I'm about to call 911, two young women and an ornery man with a full head of hair arrive for the party. The full-haired man directs an ominous remark to the man with me. There's tension. These people are out for trouble; unaware, they head inside. | 2MSA, 1MSA, 2MSA, 1MSA, 2FSA, 1MSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0320 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-23 | M | A | Terrorists are using high altitude drones which appear in the sky as copper objects that slowly circle as they make their descent. It's not known if the unmanned vehicles will explode or disperse poison gas. Either will cause societal havoc, but people will find ways to socialize. | 2ISA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0321 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-24 | M | A | It's night in the jungle and the moon is out. I'm with third squad in a large WWII tent or the M's garage. Filthy, stinking and sweaty, clothed in WWII gear, we lie on the bare rocky earth. Our morale is good. I talk to Pete, telling him who I think should stay in the squad, who should go. "Ernie is trouble. He could get everyone killed."<span style="display:none;">[175]</span> I feel bad saying this, and tell him anyone could get us killed. Other men arrive. There is Melhop, the stern machine gunner and sergeant. Someone opens a bag of salted sun flower seeds, offers them around. Taking too many, I try to put them back in the small hole cut in the corner of the cellophane packet. A naive young girl, happy and high spirited, tells us she likes to ride in a convertible. I say, "I've got some Compazine.<span style="display:none;">[176]</span> Wanna go for a ride?" I look to the men in a fraternal way. For a moment everyone laughs. | 1MKA, 1MKA, 2MOA, 1FSA, 1FSA, 2MKA | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0322 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-25 | M | A | I plan to lead several immigrants across the desert but we decide to go back for water and supplies. At a house where my family lives, I take cheese from the refrigerator, sun screen (zinc oxide), a canteen of water, though I have to look hard for my canteen belt. Thinking I will take her with us, my dog, here a black lab, growls excitedly, and follows me about. Impatiently, I say to her, "No." My mother says, "She doesn't follow you anymore." Waking, I say to my mother, "You're so fucked up." | 2JSA, 1FKA, 1ANI, 1FKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0323 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-26 | M | A | I join or follow a group of people on a long walk, thinking we're all headed to the same place. Instead, we enter an immense church; a wedding ceremony is underway. I walk near the bridesmaids, sexually aroused by one young woman in particular. Young, tall, thin and beautiful, she wears a modest calico dress. It's clear to others that I want to look up her skirt. A dozen young girls in folk costumes stand on a circular platform. A sort of parade float, it has several levels, like a birthday cake. The girls are happy, smiling. I'm aware they will remember this occasion for a long time. The scene changes. I'm a guest at a house run by Aunt Zani. In the kitchen I talk with a man about the nearby gigantic front-loading washing machine that resembles an old fashioned coffee roaster. I reflect that my mother had a similar machine in the basement on Ivy Street. The man is replaced by two girls from the wedding float. We talk while sorting wash. "I haven't done drugs in thirty-seven years," I tell him. There's a knock on the front door. I go to answer it, but the door can only be reached by a room filled taut pastel canvas sheets. Standing near the door, I ask who is it. A woman responds with a fearful diatribe against drugs. I tell her I haven't done cocaine in thirty-seven years, but I understand why people do. Cocaine makes you feel good. It increases creativity. Many recreational users are neither addicted or harmed by it. I tell her I don't do use cocaine because the quality of street drugs is untrustworthy. I'm recalling the cocaine given to me by an upstairs neighbor in the town I lived in in 1982. Cut with speed, it caused me much anxiety. | 2JSA, 1FSA, 2FSA, 1MKA, 1FKA, 1FKA, 1FKA, 1FKA | AP D, HA 1FKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0324 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-28 | M | A | I come upon a horrific scene: hundreds of people, trapped in buses by the Army or police, lay massacred. One man is held down, his head run over as he screams, "Wait!" I run to a cluster of crowded shop fronts and push open a glass door. An official looking middle-aged man, with thinning blonde hair, and wearing a jacket and tie, stops me. "Where do you think you're going?" I say, "I work here." A handsome younger man, with boyish tousled hair, and wearing jeans, a white shirt, says, "Oh yeah? What's your honor code?" Of course, I have none, but to return outside is a death sentence, which both men know, and is precisely what they want. | 2JSA, 2MOA, 1MSA, 1MSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0325 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-28 | M | A | In a dreary warehouse, atop a dark green steel locker, which I reach by standing upon a chair, I find four Glock pistols and two automatic rifle magazines; all are loaded. I'm excited, and look elsewhere on the locker, but find only used or broken eye glasses. Who has left theses things here? For some reason, I think of Alan, who lost his leg in a motorcycle accident in the 1970s. I walk outside, and trek across a large soggy lawn, which reminds me of a park in Blackburn, Australia. Here, the earth curdles like fresh shit. Two hundred yards away, from atop a French colonial building, two police or intelligence agents hail me by name. "Hey, Marc. Come over here, we'd like to talk to you." But I know this tactic, and keep walking, hoping they will not come after me. I reach a small grove, and look for a place to dip my muddy hands in clear water. Everywhere, the water is fouled by mud. A man appears in a second floor doorway. Then he is gone. I can't enter to wash my hands, and keep walking. | 1MKA, 2MOA, 1MSA | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0326 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-28 | M | A | As I walk forward in a small grassy field, I expertly spin a cantaloupe on my index finger. My brother arrives, wearing the cantaloupe, now peeled, and shaped like an upside down flowerpot, on his head. I say, "Hey, I want some of that." He says, "She (our mother) has a separate one for you." My brother speaks negatively about me. | 1MKA, 1FKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0327 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-29 | M | A | With two other people, I walk in hilly woods, when suddenly a Centaur gallops past. He is huge, dark complected, with a stark round face, boyish tousled black hair, and remarkably agile and swift. Where has he gone? Moments later, not far away, through the brush and scrub, we see him on high ground. As we continue walking in the rugged woods the centaur nimbly gallops down the hill. Half concealed by leaf and branch, he stops only twenty yards away, staring straight at us. Slowly, I approach him. The creature is wholly alert, prepared to bolt at the first sign of danger. But I mean no harm. | 2ISA, 1ANI | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0328 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-29 | M | A | It's night. I'm in a dilapidated basement, about to do my wash, waiting for another man, a large man who resembles Greg, to finish his laundry. When he's done, I clean up the area, then run the water, which begins to flood the machine, running over the sink, spilling onto the floor. Panicked, I call Brian, just then waking up. The connection is poor, but I can hear Brian's wife in the background. I tell Brian there's a problem. I tell him the water won't stop. I'm aware the ceiling below will have water damage. Brian, patient but annoyed, says try turning the water off. Since the faucets are old, rusted and creaky, I'm surprised this works. I tell Brian the problem is solved, then clean up the water, which has puddled on the faded white linoleum floor. | 1MSA, 1MKA, 1FSA | AP D, AN 1FKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0329 | 2016-2017 | 2017-04-30 | M | A | I'm on a space craft orbiting Earth. In a module separate from the main vehicle, I find an alien space craft. Two to three meters long, it resembles the front of a Piper Cub. Radioing my superiors, I tell them I've found, "A space craft from an alien civilization, or from Earth, but unknown to us." All the while, I'm calm, objective, confident. Outside, there is only pitch black space and countless white stars. | 2MKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0330 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-02 | M | A | At night, I'm on a large base in a mountainous country. The base is more like a fortress than an LZ. We come under attack. Where are they? Smoke and haze, sparks and fog obscure the landscape. I grab my M16 but it won't fire. I grab an M60 and begin shooting at enemy soldiers who are dressed like Taliban. The machine gun may jam but I concentrate on sweeping the bullets from left to right, cutting the enemy down. Fifty yards ahead, crawling forward, a man with a black mini-gun. I shoot a burst that topples him. Another burst, he is not dead but writhing, severely wounded. A young man on our side, dressed as a civilian, appears on my left. Tall, powerfully built, with thick black hair, and wearing a white shirt and black pants, he is relaxed, confident. I continue firing across the landscape, not caring if the people are civilians or soldiers. In fact, I like what I'm doing. I'm shooting people. Killing them. The black haired man, whose has watched without judgment, says, "It's like a video game." | 2MOA, 1MSA, 1MSA, 2JSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0331 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-03 | M | A | I'm preparing for work on my new job. The garbage truck sits in the middle of a sunny street located in a pleasant country setting. But when I approach the truck, I see that it's more like a piano than a refuse-hauling vehicle. The four-man crew, proud of their work, keep the truck neat, polished and clean. One man, wearing an old pair of Eastern Mountain Sports pants, recommends I put on similar clothes, rather than what I'll wear the rest of the day. The crew can tell I've not done hard labor; my pale feet are uncalloused. I'll wear what I have on, a pair of jeans, my usual outfit. | 2MOA, 1MSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0332 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-03 | M | A | My father's had a stroke. A thin grey-haired old man, who resembles Jack, my landlord in the town I lived in from 2001 to 2012, sits at a child's school desk, asking me questions about my brother. What kind of work did he do? How far did he drive? Etc., etc. I don't know, I tell him, because I haven't seen my brother in ten years.<span style="display:none;">[179]</span> He's become someone I don't know. A second old man, clearly fragile, shuffles by. He doesn't see the pair of leather slippers in his path; I say nothing to prevent him from tripping. He steps on them, continues walking. | 1MKA, 1MKA, 1MKA, 1MSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0333 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-04 | M | A | I'm on a city street corner, where the men I'm with sell carved wood statues to tourists and passer by. I take a turn, hawking a large colorful carving, a stylized man or woman of African or Mayan descent. A middle-aged Mideastern man, wearing a Taliban-like turban, tries to steal my statue, but I catch him, and we fight and tussle as he tries to escape. From fifty yards, on the same street, glimpsed through passerby, I watch as my American traveling buddy in Laos, Adam, and other men pummel the thief, shout at him, Adam atop the man, beating him, demanding that he confess. Half naked, I approach this scene, holding in either hand two pair of black smudged baggy pants made of cheap cotton fabric. In plain sight, I put on one pair of pants, and say to Adam, "How goes it?" He says the man has a son and for that reason would not talk; he let him go. | 2MSA, 1MSA, 1MKA, 2MSA, 1MKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0334 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-06 | M | A | I'm riding in a car with my friend Frank's mother and two other people. She describes at length how as a child I would pick my lips, which would then imparted a foul odor, which everyone attempted to ignore. A Filipino woman asks about sunburns; I tell her about a $12 patch used in childhood, which changed color after too much sun exposure. The scene changes. I've run out of medication and am at the VA, talking with two people. There is a woman who I refer to as my childhood surrogate mother, who asks about my brother. There is an Israeli man to whom I explain the meds I'm taking. I show him a brown bottle containing several dozen tablets. When they're gone, it cannot be refilled. I decide to request a new drug. | 1MKA, 1FKA, 2JSA, 1FKA, 1MKA, 1MEA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0335 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-06 | M | A | I'm in the mountains, the landscape is similar to Todos Santos, Guatemala. At first, with an adz, I'm chopping the earth on the mountainside. A war simulation takes place. Choppers fly close overhead. Tanks fire their cannons. I'm with Lieutenant Sharp, who is fearless, and one or two other men from the platoon. Enthusiastically, I recount these things to a man I know, but when he asks where this event took place, I struggle with the name. Then I tell him, "Quan Loi, in northwest Vietnam."<span style="display:none;">[181]</span> He shows me several plastic avatars of the men in my platoon. There is Sharp, with his fiery red hair; I recognize a few other men. At first I don't see my avatar. Then I spot it. I'm wearing my army baseball cap, the one from Devens, whose visor, with Magic Markers, I had festooned with the gold leaf brocade of a staff officer.<span style="display:none;">[182]</span> | 1MKA, 2MKA, 1MKA, 2MKA, 1MOA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0336 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-07 | M | A | I'm in a strange college cafeteria. Where the other students are lining up for the main meal, I want the alternative, but am forced to wait. When I make myself known, a large student, who resembles a bully from high school, lumbers toward me. I throttle a punch that tumbles him down. With the heel of my boot I stomp the flat of his ear. I want to kill, not hurt him. | 2JOA, 1MOA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0337 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-07 | M | A | I'm young, sitting in a large airy, well lit classroom at a writer's conference. Though few students are present, several teachers, including my friend Professor Roger S, write on large white boards. The scene changes. I'm in a dorm bedroom, lying on my bed, and begin talking to another conference participant, a stocky plain looking balding young man. I ask if he's written anything. I ask what sort of writing he pursues. He says he's written just one story. He asks about me. I tell him I'm writing a story that will incorporate dialog from another story I've written. As I tell him these things he puts his hand up my pants and tries to fondle me. Repeatedly, I punch him in the face. With each punch I'm yelling at him, "Why? Why? Why?" | 2JOA, 1MKA, 1MSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0338 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-08 | M | A | I'm hiking in the woods, walking down a steep marshy path back to where I left my large New Zealand backpack. Two dogs, a German Shepherd and a mongrel, charge me. The Shepherd comes perilously close, nips the air in front of my face, and rushes past. The mongrel tags behind me, then tries to bite me. "No! No!" I yell at it. When I return to the area where I've left my pack, the area has become a vast clear lake. What will I do? My pack contained my only pants, shirts and towels. I begin walking the opposite way. I take off and discard my pants and wade in the clear clean water. Reaching high ground, I see that the trail leads to a cabin-like convenience store, where a woman who resembles actress Sondra Locke, wearing a billowy old-fashioned cotton dress, stands outside.<span style="display:none;">[184]</span> I'm immediately attracted to her. In the store, I buy a cup of coffee, then walk around the cabin porch, past an open lot, back to the trail. I'm now fully dressed, and wearing my colorful windbreaker. Passing the woman, who sits in a rocking chair, her open legs poised as if ready for sex, the windbreaker catches on the leg of a nearby chair, causing me to spill coffee. Annoyed, the woman says, "What's wrong with you people? Give me back my chair." Feeling foolish, I free the windbreaker and leave, coming upon a crazed looking young man; from the look of his clothes, a mechanic of some kind. We are nearly face-to-face when he removes from his shirt pocket a gun barrel like object and tries to shoot me in the head. My fear gives me strength. Using my arm to grapple with him, I manage to hold and push his arm, but am shot in the shoulder. I'm bleeding. The man pulls another barrel from his shirt pocket, but I wrestle with him, and manage to aim it at his head, and fire, wounding him. With a third barrel, he shoots himself in the eye and mouth, pressing the barrel into teeth and gums, the bullets firing like inky injections. All the while, as he tries to shoot me, I'd been yelling, "No! No! No!" | 2ANI, 1ANI, 1FSA, 1MSA | AN D, AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0339 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-09 | M | A | In thick jungle another man and I hide from the NVA or VC. The jungle is so dense it's almost impossible to be seen, almost impossible to move. We can hear them approaching. Hear them talking. We crouch even tighter, closer to the ground. We must be silent, still, soundless. I suppress a cough. I imagine being captured or shot. | 1MSA, 2MOA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0340 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-09 | M | A | I'm young, attending a gathering in a large building where everyone sleeps in rooms where mattresses in orderly rows lay on the floor. A young woman has mistakenly put her toiletries on my mattress, neatly grouping her items with mine. When I point out her mistake, she says she will find another mattress. When I return, she has taken the mattress and sheets to the other side of the room. I must replace the sheets; obsessed I run around, frantically searching, dimly aware this is fruitless, unimportant. I can make do. This is so for shaving as well. Without my kit I can't shave. I've got stubble. I won't look perfectly clean shaven. So what? In a corridor I meet Robert Farjam, a youth known from summer camp, whose bullying I stopped by picking him up and tossing him out of the bunk house, to the surprise of everyone. "Which room are you in?" he asks. I say, "This place is like an insane asylum." I tell him all the rooms are the same. I almost say, 'I feel like I'm home.' Having gone outside, wearing new tan colored carpenter's pants that fit well, I run across a wide cement and flagstone plaza, back into the building. Barry Baldwin, a confident youth from high school, walks past in the opposite direction. He is sullen, silent, uncommunicative. I'm feeling confident, athletic, and rip off a gimmicky piece of fabric from the side of my new pants. | 2JSA, 1FSA, 1MKA, 1MKA | AP D, SD 1MKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0341 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-10 | M | A | In a darkened room, with several other people, we laying on beds two meters apart. The room resembles my bedroom at 59 Redwood Street. After a time I watch my left leg rise into the air and bends at odd angles. I feel it being pulled this way and that. I begin to moan, then scream. The persons nearest my bed watch helplessly. Someone comes over to offer help. As my arms flail, as I call out, "Help me! Help me!" they stand over me, tentatively offering me their arms to hold onto. Out of fear, this person withdraws his (or her) arms. The process is repeated several times. I need this individual to hold onto, but he or she is unwilling to help in a consistent way. | 2JSA, 1ISA | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0342 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-11 | M | A | In a huge auditorium, packed with people, my former girlfriend Karen and I have come to attend a college lecture. Our seats are on a ledge, a sort of balcony, and my seat is different from hers, but we have no choice and we sit. The teacher, a tall, older stern looking woman, goes from person to person, checking visas. Karen presents hers. At my turn, I tell the teacher I'm a veteran. I tell her I've applied for a visa several times, but the application is always returned. The teacher says I'll have to leave. Calmly I say, "I'm sorry you feel that way." She becomes upset. "Leave or I'll call the police," she replies. I take out my phone and say, "I'll call them." I say to the operator, "I'm a veteran. I'm being abused by a professor. Send a SWAT team. Send an ambulance." I say this calmly. I want to frighten the teacher. I want to punish her. The ambulance is for her. | 1FKA, 1FOA, 2ISA, 1MOA | HA D, AP 1FKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0343 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-12 | M | A | I'm watching a tall thin attractive woman, who resembles a New York Karina, swim in an indoor pool. As with Karina, I want to insert my lubricated thumb or forefinger into her bottom as I make love to her. The scene changes. At a cafe, I'm wrapping a gift for the widow of Peter D. in newspaper. But who will receive the Catholic Worker article? Peter's widow or my friend Frank? | 1FSA, 1MKA, 1MKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0344 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-13 | M | A | I'm in a large darkened room where a family is present. I descend steps to the bathroom, but it's dark inside, even when I flick the light switch several times. As I turn to leave, a presence, a sort of beast-man, grabs me. I'm frightened, but grab back, yoking the thing in a headlock, and intentionally fall down the stairs, hoping to injure it. The presence talks to me, moans, resists, as it tries to escape. | 2JKA, 1MSA | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0345 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-14 | M | A | I'm in a large two-story house where a man I know has introduced me to his girlfriend, who resembles Barbara from college. As I walk past a bedroom, I see her, half naked, sprawled languidly on the mattress. I ignore my sexual impulses and continue walking as she continues to shave her alluring legs. I pass a room where a shy obedient pit bull obeys the man by lifting its rear leg and setting it down. I meet his girlfriend on the staircase, which resembles the staircase in the family house of my father. Completely naked, she is tall and thin; being flat chested, she has the body of a young man. Lonely and sad, I say to her, "Hold me." Instead, she tries to passionately kiss me, and I push her away. "Just hold me," I tell her. She can do this, she says, but her movements are awkward, unnatural, unsatisfying. Not what I want. Not what I need. | 1MKA, 1FKA, 1ANI, 1MKA | SD D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0346 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-15 | M | A | I'm in a large dim lit hallway, with dozens of people, mostly male veterans, waiting to enter a crowded indoor arena for a sport or military event. As we press forward, over the loud speakers, an old man who resembles Attorney General Jeff Sessions announces a bayonet drill. The scene changes. I'm alone in the hallway, now darkened. A young athletic female in black body armor hurtles sideways across the dark floor. My job is to attack her and I dive upon her. As we grapple, nothing is off limits and I bite her hard on the hand. We continue struggling, each trying to defeat the other. I let go her hand and kiss her hard on the mouth. She struggles against me. I don't want to fight. I'm trying to kiss her hard on the mouth. | 2MSA, 1MSA, 1MPA, 1FSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0347 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-16 | M | A | I've been running with my dog at night on a clear city side walk, but she lags behind. There is a moment of cruelty when I speed up my pace instead of slowing down. Slowing to a walk I ask her, "What's wrong, sweetie?" My dog replies, "I'm not used to this," and further tells me she has not been training to run in this manner. I'm deeply hurt and feel deep guilt. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm sorry," I tell her, and repeat these words upon waking. | 1ANI | SD D, AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0348 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-18 | M | A | It's night. Carrie, a waitress at Hulu, and I are standing by a fence and trees on a large lawn, making small talk. When a passing car momentarily stops I say to her, "We have no cover," and I drop to the ground. But Carrie has an escape plan. She will hop the fence behind us and go into the trees. The scene changes. Carrie and I are walking in a sparsely wooded area. As we pass by a tree-shaded stream, a cop car pulls up fifty meters behind us. We can hear them talking. I take the lead. It's better to keep moving, to pretend we're not worried, to show we've done nothing wrong. After crossing a wide shallow stream the cops pursue us and we become separated. Running from the cops, I leap thirty, forty, fifty feet at a time, and glide above the water. Now I'm running, and Penny and I enter a large empty building, a warehouse with immense empty rooms painted white. Trying to outrun the two cops, we become separated. Alone, I glide across the immense floors of an empty room as fast as I can, the two cops right behind me; I'm barely out of sight. The chase continues in a wide hallway, where again, I'm ahead of them, but barely out of sight. They are almost upon me. When I slow down I see that the nearest cop resembles Judge Greg Mathis of the reality TV show. | 1FKA, 1MOA, 2MOA, 1FKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0349 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-20 | M | A | I'm standing off to one side, watching many adults and children actively walk about in a large snow covered field. Periodically an older, dark-skinned Indian man encourages me to walk. Finally I do. My dog is here. She's happily running about, a kerchief tied around her neck. I'm concerned that she might be cold, but she's not shivering. She's running about, as I walk behind her. My brother is nearby. | 2JSA, 1MSA, 1ANI, 1MKA | AP D, HA 1MKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0350 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-21 | M | A | I'm young. While riding in a railroad boxcar with other people I meet a girl, a plain looking tomboy whose personality makes her alluring. The conductor explains that the center of the wooden floor is made of glass, it will not support the heater I've brought. No matter. I will lend it to the man who has asked to use it. One, two or three weeks at a time he can take it wherever he likes. We arrive at a summer village, which the girl belongs to. Several times, as we walk down a dirt path bordered by chicken wire, I ask if the area is safe. The girl assures me it is, and points out several dark green wooden rowboats tied up to the shore. With these, we can take lessons in a specific rowboat technique. When we sleep next to each other, we talk, and several times I choke up. It's the war. I'm thinking how awful things can get, but I do not tell her that's what bothers me. When we arrive at a busy amusement park there are people crowded by entrance. A woman who looks like a woman who resembles Chris D elbows the girl several times. In the slow moving melee I lose sight of the girl, who has entered the amusement park. We haven't made emergency plans; how will I know where to look for her, or she for me? It's as if everything is lost. However I decide to stay put and wait for her. I'm so happy when she returns. I really like this girl. She is my friend. I point out the woman who elbowed her. She seems an angry woman. Angry at life. | 2JSA, 1MOA, 2JSA, 1FSA, 1FSA | HA D, AN 1FKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0351 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-22 | M | A | I'm a guest in an immense college building where someone gives me place to sleep, a small room among many on a long corridor. It's busy here, filled with people. In the morning, someone says the dining room has free food. I'm hesitant to enter, but go inside and look about. The scene changes. I'm in the dinning room, now closed, with another boy, my brother. We hope to steal a pair of audio speakers the size of trucks. Each speaker has a clear plastic covering, the interior, filled with white foam, is illuminated by white light. I'm inside one speaker, my brother hides inside the second. A narrator explains that suspended by ropes, we've spent the night inside the speakers and plan to carry them away. As I work inside the speaker, a guard enters the immense room; a fat, slow slovenly man, he see's us. I don't want to go to jail. What to do? In this moment of every man for himself, I run, find a door which leads to a narrow L shaped passage, which leads outside. "I'm free," I say, but without my wallet I have no money or identification. As well, I've emerged on the wrong side of the building, onto a country road where heavy construction has overtaken the residential homes. And my brother? He will be caught, there's nothing I could have done for him. To get to the other side of campus I re-enter the building. Alarms go off. Smoke fills the night air. Bright lights illuminate the smoky haze. Hiding in thick bamboo I determine that if a polar bear finds me I will stand and fight with a bamboo pole. I clamber on to an immense roller coaster like pulley. Where is it taking me? Will I be crushed to death? I fall asleep and wake up in a squad car. A female officer has just opened the driver side door. | 1ISA, 1MSA, 1MOA, 1FOA | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0352 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-22 | M | A | A friendly heavyset lawyer has taken my court case that I want to file. He's loading files into the back of his white car, which is where I sit. I want to tell him the cars white interior, especially the ceiling, which appears to be made of animal skin, is beautiful. The lawyer inserts the last file in a raised slot in the roof. The car begins rolling forward. I don't know how to drive. Where is the lawyer? What to do? I get out and use my feet to stop the car, but now that it's speeding on the highway nothing I do can slow it down. Somehow, the lawyer appears at the wheel. I tell him, "You should let me inside." The scene changes. The lawyer and I have entered an immense building, a car factory. With other men, executives, we walk up a narrow and smooth cement staircase. From behind me, an effeminate young man, who resembles my grammar school classmate who became an actor, Jimmy D, announces that he has millions of dollars. Both he and the muscular man behind him are armed guards; they wear blue uniforms and each totes two canvas satchels of money. Because the staircase is narrow, and the executives are wealthy, the guards trust them. I lose sight of the lawyer. At an elevator, I see two scantily clad young women, and a young Russian couple. I ride the elevator with them to higher floor, where I sit on the gray metal desk of a young man wearing a suit and tie. I've found food in three saucers the size of thimbles. There is ground coffee, there is chocolate pie. I eat the pie. How will I find the lawyer in this immense building? Will he call me over the PA system? I'm concerned but not worried. | 1MOA, 2MOA, 1MOA, 1MOA, 2FSA, 1MEA | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0353 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-23 | M | A | I'm staying in a cozy house with two young doctors, a handsome male, an attractive female. As we talk at the table, periodically I make immature jokes, which backfire, especially on the woman. While talking about the dog in the house one of the doctors mentions it weights three hundred pounds. Making use of something he'd said, I remark, "It's his sperm." Instead of laughter, silence. Later I see physician couple holding hands. Only then do I realize they've fallen in love. The male doctor knows Kevin, the Vietnam vet I know through his role at the William Joiner Center "For how long," I ask. "A long time," he replies. "About just now." He suggests going to a writer's conference or related event. Mistakenly, I think he means the town I lived in from 2001 to 2012. | 2MOA, 1FSA, 1MOA, 1MKA, 1MKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0354 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-23 | M | A | I'm in a large dirt yard with several people. Around us, many dogs try to catch small animals in trees by repeatedly jumping a few feet up the trunk, or scampering a few yards up the tree, only to fall down. The scene changes. I'm standing high up on a wood scaffold. The dogs have become powerful. A hound dog repeatedly jumps forty feet high, coming right near me, dangling momentarily mid air, before plummeting down. Finally one dog, a Weimaraner, vaults gracefully over the scaffold. Later, by a campfire, a friendly dark colored Husky-like dog comes close and stares at me with inquisitive eyes. I pat his head. "I'm sorry. I don't have anything for you," I say. The dog's face is so human, kind, endearing. | 2ISA, 2ANI, 1ANI, 1ANI | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0355 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-23 | M | A | It's night, raining. I'm in the jungle, looking for the path to the house where I'm staying. When I come upon it, I realize it's a well-used enemy trail. As if it were yesterday, there is the well-worn red earth, the trampled bamboo leaves, the narrow track snaking its way through the canopy. When the trail becomes faint I lose my way. Finding it, I walk into the house, passing an old Asian woman who asks me a question. I tell her I'm going to my room first to change my clothes, which are sopping wet. From another room I hear what seems to be a party or gathering. With several other men I change my clothes while sitting in a sort of locker room, sheltering my body as best I can. The scene changes. I'm in shower with two brothers, seven or eight years old, both very intelligent. The blonde haired boy has the build of an athlete. Behinds us, off to the side, many colorful clothes lie heaped on the floor. I'm aware of the boys being curious of my naked body and I turn from them. For the brothers, showering with an adult is a game, a time for fun. | 1FSA, 2MSA, 1MSC, 1MSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0356 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-23 | M | A | I'm in a psychologist's office with my mother. Assessing me for meds the psychologist pesters me with questions. As he deliberates the prescription, angrily I say, "I just don't want to be tranked out." The last two words suggest I'm familiar with drugs. | 1FKA, 1MOA | AN D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0357 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-24 | M | A | I'm in a large hotel room. At night, after meeting the two seven and eight year old son's of a friend, the boys and I sleep in the same large bed. They sleep atop me, upon a large dark blanket; palm leaves and colorful wool fringes protrude from its edges and tickle my nose. As I can only lay on my back, the sleeping arrangement is uncomfortable. But the boys are falling asleep so I don't disturb them. The scene changes. In an empty hotel room, from a distance, on a bed, I see an thin attractive young woman kneeling on all fours. Between her upraised buttocks I see the soft alluring cleft of her vagina, which I walk to, kneel to, nose and kiss. The scene changes. The hotel room is empty. Naked, I walk about, heading downstairs. A very beautiful young woman wearing a stylish dress and stockings walks by; she works here. I can't believe how beautiful she is. My things have been moved. I must sleep in a smaller bed. Before anyone returns, out of the shower, Robert arrives. He wants to have sex. But where? There is no privacy. I suggest his old bedroom, upstairs. He agrees. Wearing only towels, we are lying in bed when my friend Frank's mother arrives. | 2MSC, 1FSA, 1FSA, 1MKA, 1FKA | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0358 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-24 | M | A | I'm a photographer. I meet a young attractive brunette who wants to buy a modeling portfolio but she can't pay money. "Are you married?" I ask her. "Is your boy friend jealous?" When she says no I suggest sex as payment. Not just once, but twice, for at least one hour each time. And not just sex. "Hold me," I say to her, "and let me hold you." | 1FSA, 1MKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0359 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-25 | M | A | I'm in New York, walking into an old building rumored to be the best bookstore in town. At the below ground entrance, a light-skinned brawny black man, wearing a pork pie hat, gold suit and black tie, asks, "Panchero?"<span style="display:none;">[194]</span> Walking past him, I answer, "No. Yo hablo solo ingles." Past the brass framed glass door, with three attractive and talkative women in front of me, I walk up a series of steps. Instead of a business, it's as if I've entered a well kept home. In fact, the stairway resembles 79 Ward Place. There are many medium sized and well appointed rooms where the couches and hangings, the rugs and chairs, are quite comfortable, welcoming and home like. In these rooms small workshops are underway, a few people attending each one. The mood is light, upbeat. In a spacious split level area, remarkable for it's broad parquet floor, I see two women practicing midwifery or CPR on a life size and human-like latex doll. But where are the books? Fifty yards away, I see rows of book shelves, a library in fact, on a separate lower level, which appears to extend to the buildings top floor. I walk across a wide open parqueted area fitted with comfortable chairs and sofas upon which people sit and read. A petite brunette woman lies splayed on a rectangular flat couch, as if she is at the beach. I consider that here the business model is luxury in service to sales. I head toward the books; arranged like an opulent archive, the carefully placed volumes inhabit floor upon floor. I consider the unspoken wealth that inhabits the building. The near absence of worry. | 1MSA, 2FSA, 2FSA, 1FSA, 1FSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0360 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-27 | M | A | On a bright and clear sunny day I'm on a naval ship at sea. A nuclear demonstration is underway. A non commissioned sailor has jumped overboard into the clear water. As he swims beneath its surface, illuminated by sunlight, he points out the oceanscape of many smooth jagged rocks, which point upward like sharks teeth. Before surfacing, he mentions nuclear radiation. Back on board, we await the return of four fighter pilots. Standing before a large mirror, we compare their photo portraits. In their flying suits, the young men are bearded or beard shadowed, masculine and handsome, confident and smiling. A wave of recognition passes over us. Four of us will impersonate the pilots. The actor Roddy McDowell, sullen and depressed man, grim and gray colored, like a black and white photograph, walks by.<span style="display:none;">[195]</span> He's just returned from flying and is downhearted by criticisms from his superiors. I go to comfort him As he tells me their words, from behind, I embrace him, offer him kindness, words of encouragement. I like this man. I really like him. | 1MOA, 2MOA, 1MPA, 2MOA | SD 1MKA, HA D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0361 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-28 | M | A | It's night. I'm in an Asian or Central American country ruled by the military. An open top flat bed truck, with a canvas curtain partly shielding it's load, arrives in a remote village. There are people behind the curtain. Are they soldiers? Will they machine gun the villagers? No. It's a fumigation crew whose job is to fumigate the villagers. An elder female is compelled to stand still while she is doused with a thick white billowing toxic cloud. I hear myself thinking, "No. No. No." The scene changes. In the village, I'm in a dark cozy room. The man I'm talking with tells me they do not have elections often. I speculate elections are held only when they are needed. The important person we've been waiting for arrives. An older, somewhat emaciated black man, the skin of his face colored with green pigment, his skull made prominent by his frailty, he wears a green veil-like costume, bordered in gold, which covers all but his eyes. He is a happy man, given a talk. | 2MOA, 2MOA, 1FSA, 1MSA | HA 1MSA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0362 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-28 | M | A | In France or another foreign country I'm in a darkened bedroom in an old country house, Outside, the wind howls. Someone tells me it's the wind that shakes the windows, that makes the shrill haunting noise. I look about, at the old cupboards and shelves, at the old thick walls. What is behind the door? My dog comes in. She is old, fragile, seeking warmth. As I lie on the bed she hops on top of me. She snuggles under the covers and I feel her warmth. I love this dog with all my heart. I will do anything for her. I'm petting her. Loving her. After a time the covers fall away. She whimpers and crawls back inside, but not for long. Our movements cause her to shift, to lose her place on me. | 1ISA, 1ANI | HA D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0363 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-28 | M | A | Walking down a stairway I meet Peter A, who is wearing a brown winter coat.<span style="display:none;">[196]</span> He is confident, smiling. There is no need to shake hands. His young daughter is with us. As she plays and talks, she asks Peter questions. I want to tell him how lovely she is. How happy and well adjusted. | 1MKA, 1FSC | HA 1FKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0364 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-28 | M | A | I'm sitting on the toilet when a young UFC fighter, barefoot, wearing his fighting trunks, and who looks and acts like Ronnie N, enters the bathroom.<span style="display:none;">[197]</span> <span style="display:none;">[198]</span> He says nothing, stares at me. I ignore him, and begin to wipe myself with a paper towel, concerned that it may clog the bowl. When I look up, the UFC fighter is masturbating. I say, "What the fuck are you doing, man?" He mumbles inaudibly. I say, "Get the fuck out of here. I'm gonna tell all your friends you were jerking off to an American wiping his ass." | 1MOA, 1MPA | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0365 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-29 | M | A | I'm in a room filled with mostly men. On stage, my (dream) brother holds forth on matters of the day. From the back of the room I stand up. Holding up a small dark globe in my right hand, in a loud voice I say, "Tell me about this, buddy! Huh, tell me about this!" My brother freezes, astonished. I hold up a second globe. Gold letters spelling a word revolve in its hollow interior. "Or this, buddy! Tell me about this!" My brother is equally dumbstruck. Vigorously I say, "Tell you what, I'm gonna make you a deal. Tell the truth. Right now. Take this opportunity to tell the truth or I am gonna kill you." After a pause, I say, "And when I say that, I mean figuratively. In a court of law, I'm gonna swat you with my hands and crush you." My brother says, "Why should I talk?" I say, "Because you don't have a fucking chance. You hear that. Not a fucking chance." Cheering, the men in the room rise to their feet. All the while, we have lost sight of my other (dream) brother, Lewis, who is equally guilty. On stage, my (dream) brother begins talking, but it's only a digression. | 1MKA, 2MSA, 1MKA | CO 1MKA, AP 1MKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0366 | 2016-2017 | 2017-05-30 | M | A | I'm in an all male martial arts class. Everyone is dressed in black civilian clothes. A young Hispanic man and I are about to put on a demonstration. From fifteen feet away, he will take several quick steps and kick me in my genitals as hard as he can. Impatient, he warms up, practicing kicks. A moment before he launches the attack, but too late, I shout, "Stop!" and manage to block the kick with my hands. "I said stop," I tell him. He replies, "You have to do this." "For who?" I ask. "For prom," he says. The rhyming phrase 'for Mom' crosses my mind, but I don't say it. Waking, I say, "I don't have to do this." | 2MSA, 1MEA, 1FKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0367 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-01 | M | A | I'm on the second floor of a mail fulfillment center, walking about, and look into an enormous room where the floors, walls and ceiling are made entirely of polished wood. From small hangers lining each side of the room hang hundreds of men's ties. "So this is how they do it," I think to myself. The hanging items have been returned or are ready for shipment. I'm tempted to steal one, but it's more satisfying not to. Turning around, I walk down the long narrow staircase. From behind me, at the top of the stairs, a stout middle aged woman, a supervisors, says, "Here's the last one." Down the steps, she rolls a long cardboard tube, to be mailed out. In relation to my job she asks, "How are you doing?" "I'm good," I tell her. As I reach the last step, partly turning round, humorously I say, "I hope." She laughs, as do the other workers. There is much work to be done, and done correctly. | 1FOA, 2IOA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0368 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-02 | M | A | Recommended by a friend, I'm a guest in the basement of a house which belongs to an artist, a tall handsome exuberant man. In the house are various servants, including a tall thin eccentric Chinese man who constantly makes silly dance movements. The artist is talking on a landline phone, involved in a long conversation. I'm at his knee, waiting. Eventually he hangs up, we talk, and he shows me one of his paintings, the style for which he is known: a long panel depicting a group of children, which in small ways he renders strange. It becomes apparent that I don't know his name. "That's social skills, " I tell him, referring to my friend, who is alone in a nearby darkened room. The artist laughs heartily. We talk about the servants. But what about my work? My writing? We do not discuss it. Now that it's late, he offers me a place to sleep on the linoleum tile floor. Amongst the bric-a-brac, he points out a chrome plated coffee maker. There are brambles and bugs here. I see a scorpion scurry away. I can't sleep on the floor. It's not safe. When he leaves, I decide to return to my house, a half mile away. I will take my purple towel and backpack, but due to the weight leave behind the sheaf of copy paper. I head home through a narrow high walled street. Much like the old quarters of European cities, the street is crowded with people and movement is slow. In fact, it's a dead end, leading to an elegant waterfront promenade where many wealthy people lounge and congregate. Along the waterfront, beneath tall white canvas tents, beautiful young men and women, wearing bathing suits or ballet costumes, energetically perform a popular new dance which I think is silly. Heading back, I pass a fat young girl; unembarrassed by her appearance, she dances by herself. What will my friend or the artist think when they see that I've gone? I don't care. My decision, to leave the house, feels right. My objective is to return home, which is safe. | 1IKA, 2MOA, 1MEA, 2JSA, 1FSA, 1FSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0369 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-03 | M | A | I'm at a restaurant sitting at a table with other people. A large German Shepherd, lying on its side, soaks up the affection as everyone pets it. Another dog appears. A diminutive black mutt, part Lab, part spaniel, it seems to belong to someone else, but whom? I like this dog, and it follows me around. When I pick it up in my arms to care for it, the dog is gentle, nearly submissive, as if it has been emotionally injured. I head home, walking down Highland Place, wondering what to do. I like this animal, but do I really want this unneutered female with her extended nipples and long black penis? As we near the house, I'm torn. If I do not keep the dog, who will take care of her? She will sleep outside. She will be hungry and cold. Keep or abandon? I decide the latter, and it seems she has disappeared, but she emerges from an alley continues to follow me home. Near my house, I see two neighborhood friends with small frisky dogs which limp. Their left rear legs have been amputated or shaved, it's hard to tell, though it's due to recent vaccination. In the stairway of the house are several middle aged women about to go up my apartment. Pointing to the black mutt, I say, "That dog stays here." The mutt has changed color from black to white. She looks so sad. I'm torn. Should I keep or abandon this poor needy dog? | 2JSA, 1ANI, 1ISA, 2ANI, 2FKA | CO D, SD D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0370 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-03 | M | A | I'm walking in the woods when overhead I see a small Halloween witch flying on a broomstick. "That can't be," I say to myself. I run to the spot where the witch has crashed into the upper branches of a tall tree. Suddenly, to my right, a roaring noise; in the distance, heading this way, an enormous bomber or cargo plane appears in the sky. Almost immediately, three to four hundred feet overhead, a futuristic spaceship, silver, aerodynamically shaped like a race car, with smooth curved edges. A Chinook helicopter appears; next, a boxy satellite. I've happened upon a coordinated space event. With hundreds of people, I'm part of a large line walking towards a large building or area where the event will be held or explained. Waiting to enter, a young woman who wants to meet men speaks to me. She is not particularly attractive, her teeth are pronated, but she is happy, ebullient. I offer her words of advice and encouragement. | 5FSA, 2JSA, 1FSA | HA 1FKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0371 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-04 | M | A | With a half dozen other young people I'm in a barn-like room. We take turns performing theater roles or reciting poetry. At my turn, I improvise a religious chant, which is received with much applause. Apparently the young people don't realize I've made it up, it's not memorized or authentic. There's a second go round, but at my turn I decline. Mistakenly, I say that I have completed my obligation. The remark is met with silence. Next, though my part is unclear I'm included in play rehearsals. As I lie on the dirty floor, bare chested and filthy, a girl who resembles the waitress Rachel wonders about a theatrical phrase. I clarify it for her. "The bull in the yard." Is she ready to perform outdoors in a Western to a few dozen people? She is, with likely an audience of two hundred. We begin flirting. I come close and press myself upon her as we begin to neck. | 2JSA, 1FSA, 2JSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0372 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-04 | M | A | At night, on a high floor in a large house with many rooms and occupants, I look down onto the busy street. Groups of rowdies roam among the jammed traffic. There are shouts. A man in plain clothes, a large ornery man claiming to be law enforcement, enters my room, takes a pen from my desk. He's looking, he says, for hooligans or immigrants. The scene changes. I find myself with two men trying to escape to Siberia. We're lost, walking the streets not knowing where we're headed. A handsome man, a natural leader, enters a crowded restaurant to ask directions from a waiter or chef. Afterward he relates the directions to me and I become angry and critical. I tell him the directions are wrong. Like in Mexico, the chef or waiter did not understand his question; they simply 'yessed' him. I'm aware of being too harsh, too negative. The handsome man suggests we buy a map. It's a brilliant idea. Why didn't I think of it? What common sense! At an upscale bodega we purchase a map similar to those I put on the wall of my apartment in Northampton.<span style="display:none;">[199]</span> The scene changes. As we sit on the second floor of the bodega the handsome man asks what bothers me. "It's a long story," I tell him. I don't want to talk about the war, about my life afterward. I notice that being an immigrant has turned his complexion. In places it's blotchy or red. We continue walking, now only the two of us. At an intersection I anticipate when he will turn, but he changes stride and direction, and cuts me off. Pointedly I ask him, "Why do you always to that?" | 2JSA, 1MOA, 2MSA, 1MOA | AN D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0373 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-04 | M | A | I'm on a busy city street waiting for My former girlfriend Karen. When she doesn't show up I decide to leave. But now I'm naked, wearing only white bed sheets around my body, and carrying my black and white bed spread and two pillows. I don't care what people think. I begin walking, careful not to drop the things I carry. | 1FKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0374 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-05 | M | A | I'm capable of flying by rising up slowly into the air and floating. In this way, spreading my arms, squinting my eyes., I leave my grammar school's little playground. A short husky man wearing a tan trench coat, who I assume is CIA, watches me. In the sky I met Jay and a woman. They refer to me in a code which means I'm in a specific category of individuals capable of flight. I tell them the CIA knows this. I tell them, hoping they will offer help, that I've just seen a doctor for headaches. | 1MSA, 1MKA, 1FSA, 1IOA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0375 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-05 | M | A | I'm attending a sporting event in a wide open field where many people are present. From a distance, charging toward me on a large brown horse is my mother. She pulls the horse up to the tall clear plastic barrier, a sort of large window pane, behind which I stand. My mother has something to tell me. "Closer," she says, meaning she does not want anyone to hear, I should move closer to the barrier. The horses large head knocks against the barrier, which in turn hits me. I'm angry, hurt, and my mother does not know it. This is just like her: nagging, pestering, ruining the moment. My mother tells me about fencing practice. Where to go to be on the team. I'm only hurting myself, but to hurt her, I walk away, even as she calls me to come back. The scene changes. At My old high school, where the practice is held, I enter the wrong stairway, which leads to the chem lab. "I always do this. I never get this right," I say. What to do? It's a long way to the other side of the school. Being on the team requires practicing three times per week. I'd rather go home and watch TV. | 2JSA, 1ANI, 1FKA | AN D, SD D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0376 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-06 | M | A | My former girlfriend Karen and I are walking along a quiet street. While counting the money in my wallet I notice a one dollar bill with spectacular printing error: the reverse side appears on the front and back. We stop at a small stamp and coin shop, where I ask the owner, a short stocky balding man, what the bill is worth. I note the embedded laser anti-counterfeit image, the old time hand pressed office stamp, the Treasury Department's unique currency paper. As we review the lengthy serial numbers he looks for a specific numeric combination. "Is it worthy anything?" I ask. His reply is vague, non committal; but then he makes a modest offer, and I suspect the note has significant value and ask for it back. When the owner pretends he no longer has it, I tell him I'll call the police. He does nothing so I make the call. "My name is Marc Levy. I'm a Vietnam vet. I'm at a store..." I tell the 911 operator I'm getting angry. I tell her there could be trouble. "Do you copy?" I ask. Neither My former girlfriend Karen or I know the address and approximate it. When I hang up, the owner hands me the bill. "Too late," I tell him. "The cops are coming. I hope someone forgives you. If I had a gun..." My former girlfriend Karen and I leave. The scene changes. At a dance for wealthy people who are dressed in formal dinner wear, I spot an object someone has dropped on the floor. Discreetly, I pick it up, nonchalantly walk through the dancing couples, and leave. My former girlfriend Karen and I catch a bus. The bus and the road we travel on are identical to An Loc.<span style="display:none;">[200]</span> Soon the authorities or bank robbers arrive. To escape, I jump off the bus. When it's safe, I emerge from the jungle, walk back to the road, frequently call into the jungle, "My former girlfriend Karen...Karen...Karen." But she does not appear or reply. I meet and talk with two American's dressed in dark suites and ties. They're interested in the object I've found; it's a passport case, they tell me, not a wallet, as I had hoped. Is it worth money? I ask. When they try to steal it, I shoot one American, then the other, first in the head, then the lungs. I do this several times. Each time with satisfaction. | 1FKA, 1MOA, 2MOA, 1ISA, 2JSA, 1ISA | AN D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0377 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-09 | M | A | At night, in my underwear, I walk in the woods. From behind me, I hear voices. Turning round, through the bracken, I watch a family ride past on bicycles. I begin walking up a steep trail that's muddy and washed out, letting myself slide backwards, as if skiing in reverse. After finding my way to the water, which is vast and clear, on the way back to the road I'm surprised to see how the water has risen. I wade slowly forward, pushing in front of me a sandbank that acts as a dam, but also accelerates the overspill. Once over the dam, I enter a grim flooded warehouse. The water here is nearly black. It's necessary to walk past a parked bus; at my approach it starts up. The driver, who doesn't see me, comes too close, forcing me to stand clear. The water becomes deeper, swirling, filthy. Hip deep, I wade past a mechanical buoy shaped like an oil barrel. Tethered to a chain anchored to the floor, spinning slowly round, the buoy is capable of dragging me down. Don't the people in charge know any better? The fast moving water, which is filthy, black, polluted, becomes neck deep. Struggling to keep my head above water, I half swim, half tread to a wall, which has banisters I can grasp. I'm not afraid. I can do this. I will not allow myself to drown. The scene changes. Having escaped the warehouse, I descend a narrow stairwell; ahead of me, a Mideast mother, father and child. There is tension here. The cranky child slows them down. At a stair landing the woman stops to tie the child's shoe. When they resume walking the father speaks to his wife in an English accent. When the woman stops a second time I grow impatient. "Excuse me, Miss," I say, wanting to get past her. But she does not move. "Miss, excuse me." Angered by her ignoring me, I imagine pushing her down the stairs, watching her tumble. | 2JSA, 1MSA, 1FSC, 1FSA, 1FSA | CO D, AN D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0378 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-10 | M | A | After walking through my grammar school's little playground, turning the corner after the place for the game "bombardment alley," and walking to the long wide corridor that leads to the street, I see a young boy and mistake him for someone else. I shoot him. "No!" he screams, then tumbles down. I can't be bothered, and continue walking and enter Ivy Hill Park. From one hundred yards, I spot the fencing team at practice. But now that I'm old, these can't be my team mates. Or are they? Is that coach Joe Scalamoni? Is that Tommy Praino, Ritchie Blonna, Marc Volpe, Bruce and Steve? I continue walking, but now with the pistol grip of a fencing foil in my right hand. A brawny policeman stops me, asks for identification. It's clear he suspects something, wants to make an arrest. I take out my black nylon wallet, show him my drivers license. He says to repeat the process, but this time show him something with my social security number. He moves closer, trying to intimidate me; he has an enormous cartoon like head. We are face to face, nearly touching, but I do not back down. I show him my military ID card, too late realizing it does not have the number he wants. The scene changes. I'm in a deep lake. Menacing crocodiles slither up and down in the dark water. I call for help. A huge crocodile attacks and bites me. At first I have fear and call for help. But the bite, though powerful, is not painful; the beast is made of flexible green nylon fabric. Still, I can be dragged down. Repeatedly, I punch one beast, then another, on the snout or head. "Help!" I'm calling. "Help!" But no one comes to my rescue. | 1MSA, 2MOA, 1MOA, 2ANI, 1ANI | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0379 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-11 | M | A | An agreement has been reached between the residents of a village and the occupying Germany army. Without fear of retaliation, the citizens can approach a German soldier and say whatever they like. A pretty young girl walks up to a soldier who wears a high ranking officers cap and cape. She begins to read from a prepared statement, though first saying to loudly to herself, "Go, Rachel. You can do this." Moments into her statement, the German tells her to stop, which causes the villagers to boo and jeer. The scene changes. It's night, raining. There is lightning. Rachel is seated in an alcove similar to 39 Ivy Street. There is the heavy rounded top wood front door; in it, or the walk-in closet outer wall, the small round window. I tell Rachel, for her age strikingly mature and intelligent, that she had fallen asleep, that several hours have passed. She believes me. There, I've done it. I've fooled this impetuous little girl. But I'll have to tell her the truth. | 2JSA, 1MOA, 1FSC, 1MEA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0380 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-13 | M | A | From above, I look upon a vast deserted shoreline. On the beach, someone with a guitar plays folk music. In the distance, I see Bob, Florence and Rocco M, and reflect that Bob always stayed with his parents, though I know this isn't true.<span style="display:none;">[202]</span> Someone watches as I lie on the hood of a car while a man resembling Jeff approaches.<span style="display:none;">[203]</span> As this man and I make small talk he begins to fondle me. I say, "What are you doing?" push away his hands, fold it backward upon itself. He winces in pain. I say, "You'll be alright in a week or Jew." | 1ISA, 2JKA, 1MSA, 1MSA, 1MKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0381 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-13 | M | A | I'm the only male in the office of a small enterprise staffed by two or three women. From the second floor a woman bearing a strong resemblance to Mrs. Oliver enters the well-lit room.<span style="display:none;">[204]</span> My phone rings. The caller asks about the film playing today. I have no idea, and via stream of consciousness tell the caller the film is about the Khmer Rouge, that it was made in Boulder, Colorado, and depicts Siem Reap, and how the Khmer Rouge exploited its factory workers. I say the word "Cambodia" several times.<span style="display:none;">[205]</span> | 2FSA, 1FSA, 2IKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0382 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-14 | M | A | In Switzerland, I've found my fifth-grade teacher at my grammar school. She gives me food, allows me to sleep on the wood parquet floor of the little apartment she shares with a friend. I'm as quiet as possible. Alone in the apartment, we talk. It's Kara. It really is. With her long brown hair and her warm sad face, she is still beautiful. As we lie on the floor, she allows me to press myself upon her to kiss her. We talk about the monthly VA check I had signed over to her. She still receives it; $244 per month. What to do? Kara and her friend do not make much money. About $1200 per month. But what about me? And what if the VA finds out? We talk about helicopters. How to co-ordinate the flights so we can continue to meet. | 1FKA, 1IKA | SD 1FKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0383 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-15 | M | A | At a large and grim college I enter a twilit room. On my bookcase, in a light green plastic bag, someone has left two books. Who is here? I follow a drunk male student and sit with him on a couch. The student is friendly, harmless; when he shifts his body, I see that he's sat on his brown potato chips. Leaving the room, in a high walled dungeon like corridor, I meet a good-looking middle aged brunette. Though I'm immediately attracted to her, she is wary; she thinks I'm following her. "Excuse me, Miss. Can I ask you a question?" Happily, she says, "Yes." I ask, "Are you single?" She is, and even before I ask her out, my mood, voice and demeanor reflect my abundant well-being. I ask, smiling, laughing gently, "Would you like to have coffee with me?" She agrees, but we must hurry to where she must go, and race down the corridor, where momentarily I lose sight of her. After looking left and right, outside, down a narrow garden-like path that leads to the street, in the distance I see several women, but not her. I turn back, slide down a steep wet cement embankment that leads to an enormous mediaeval double door made of wood. I hammer my fists upon it. It's no use. She's gone. | 1MSA, 1FSA, 2FSA | HA D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0384 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-15 | M | A | I'm in a small living room crowded with men who have gathered for a group Civil War re-enactment photo. G has given us instructions.<span style="display:none;">[207]</span> We'll break for a few minutes, then return for the photo. From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Pete C walking up a narrow staircase.<span style="display:none;">[208]</span> I tell G I want a pistol, not a rifle. He motions me to a small square bedroom, furnished only with a large bed topped with white sheets, a dark wood antique chest of drawers. So this is where it happens.<span style="display:none;">[209]</span> G hands me a slim black and white antique catalog. He tells me to choose a weapon, but the solid black pistols look more like beetle specimens than hand guns. "It doesn't matter," I tell him, "but next time, I want a sheriffs badge." Enthusiastically, I say, "Yeah, I'll be a sheriff." We enjoy this clever funny thought but without laughter. Back in the living room I re-join the uniformed men; crowded together, they instinctively point their rifles in the air. | 2MSA, 1MKA, 1MKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0385 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-17 | M | A | In a crowded dimly lit night club, near the bar, I'm wrestling with a man or woman who resembles my brother. We're tussling, lying sideways. Slowly the wrestling becomes sex. I'm behind him/her, grabbing breasts, entering. It's so exciting, pleasurable, intimate. The scene changes. I'm standing behind a petite young woman. She's bent over; her rump raised in the air, we simulate sex. After I've turned and walked away a young man with a slight beard, long hair, and wearing 70's disco clothes, approaches me. He is the girl, distressed by what happened. I leave him to go to my nearby apartment, but the way is blocked by a microphone, musical instruments, electric cords. A seated young couple watch as I try to step past the obstacles, slowly topple them to the floor. I enter a barn-like building where a Golden Retriever, quite old, excited to play or eat, continually nips and nuzzles me. Past a floor strewn with garbage (chicken wings are abundant) I enter a kitchen cluttered with an array of vegetables, sorted in neat rows laid out on the floor. In a small darkened broadcast or recording booth, a young fashionable Asian woman, a singer or DJ, ignores me as I try to step past her. | 1MSA, 1FSA, 1MSA, 2JSA, 1ANI, 1FEA | HA D, SD 1FKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0386 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-17 | M | A | At night, in a city like New York, My former girlfriend Karen and I walk up the street. In the dim light I recognize a tall heavy set man wearing a bulky black full length coat. I know this man. I know him well. "Donald, I want you to meet a friend of mine," I say. "This is..." I can't recall My former girlfriend Karen's name. To them both I say, "Oh shit, I'm having a memory slip!" At last, I say, "My former girlfriend Karen, this is Donald Trump." He shakes our hands. Silently, I wonder where he's going for dinner, and hope he might ask us to join him. But Trump is busy and ambles away. | 1FKA, 1MKA, 1MPA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0387 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-18 | M | A | At night, my grandfather drives my brother and I to White Meadow Lake. We are six and seven years old, the three of us seated together, my brother in the middle; I sit by the passenger door on this two hour drive. After a time I ask my grandfather, "Moe, you doing all right?" In the darkness, I hear my grandfather say, "Yeah." His voice is distant, depressed, like my own. In the next lane a car slowly passes by. I expect it's someone I know, but it isn't. I imagine being shot at close range. A large metal plate, covering the window and door would protect us. Down the long winding highway my grandfather drives fast and steady, in complete control. How does he do it? I would crash, as if destined, and imagine colliding with a guard rail, flying over an embankment, falling into a ravine, smashing into a tree. I imagine the moments before impact, before death. I imagine the three of us mangled and dead. "Too bad they weren't wearing seat belts," the investigators would say. We arrive at White Meadow Lake. In moonlight, through a forest, the three of us walk up a steep hard packed dirt trail. My grandfather falls behind. Closer to us, a man or woman pushes a grocery cart, which continually rattles. "I forgot my shirt," I tell my brother. I tell him returning to the car is too much effort. The people who live here must know to avoid extra trips. Finally we reach a grassy embankment and need to carefully step down. I tell my brother, "There's a ledge here. Step on it." In response, my grandfather pats me on the shoulder. Entering the house, my uncle Shelly greets us. With a garden hose he sprays clean a row of flooded toilets. To avoid inhaling the mist I hold my breath and hurry past. Inside the house, his daughter Marna walks up to me. Should we kiss or embrace? We shake hands. "I saw your books," she says. "I'm going to get them." I express surprise and indirect caution. Framed by a door, Uncle Shelly stands twenty feet behind her. He is young, full bearded, handsome, and has an impressively hairy chest. An old college friend, Ronnie Weinberg, in his late twenties, enters. Forthrightly, in his easy chuckling way, he says hello as we shake hands. He mentions the four POWs. I have heard of them but only vaguely. I tell him the mainstream media intentionally limits the news. Ronnie is surprised. It's on the news, he says. Their jet slammed directly into (unrecalled). They're being held by guerillas or a militia. The mood in the house is upbeat. | 1MKA, 1MKA, 2ISA, 1FKA, 1FKA | CO D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0388 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-18 | M | A | It's morning. I'm in a bunk house similar to the CIT bunk at Elk Grove Camp, with its timber walls, steel frame army bunk beds, the wood plank floor. I'm lying on a top bunk, beneath a wool army blanket, reading a book. I look to my left, out the front door. What is that noise? Suddenly, hundreds of wild horses, like those painted on cave walls, enter the bunk house, galloping over the beds, round and round, a beautiful carousel. Somehow, there's no danger, only the sight of the whirling animals, only the sound of their trampling hooves. Round they go. Then they are gone. | 2ANI | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0389 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-21 | M | A | I'm in a long crowded hallway crowded where many dying people lay on a long narrow bench. Rushing, pushing past the dead, I'm being chased, grabbed from behind. When I yell or shout, my voice is stunted, weak. At the corridor's end, I enter a dark apartment living room. Mockingly, I ask "How is everyone?" It's a scene out of a concentration camp. Even in darkness, I see corpses stacked everywhere. A girl wearing a surgical mask approaches. I know this girl. She is somehow infected. I don't want to be near her. I try to push her down dark steps. As we struggle, she attempts to bite my hand, to lead me to others, to her parents. I resist. I don't want this. No. I don't want it. | 2JSA, 2JSA, 1FKA, 2JSA, 2JSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0390 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-22 | M | A | I go walking in the woods, confident that even as it grows dark there will be enough light to return. Soon I'm lost. In darkness, after making my way through a thick pine forest, then up a steep hill, I scamper up a clearing, only to discover it's the open lens of an astronomic telescope, similar to Mt. Palomar.<span style="display:none;">[210]</span> "Nice," I say in ironic despair. I slide down the wide glass lens, run down a hill, and find my way to a familiar small town. The wide main street is lined with 1950's mom and pop stores. I will call a cab. I will find out where I am, choose a store, and call a cab to the store's location. But I don't have a taxi phone number. I continue walking, and am behind a tall attractive middle-aged woman. She's worried and begins to run. Is it me? Doe she think I'm odd or strange? At a long overhead awning which leads to a luxury apartment building, she turns left, and talks to a young woman about "the girls," possibly her young daughters. It has nothing to do with me. I walk to a golf driving range. A large sign heralds its name. There are tall vertical barricade nets and individual driving booths. There are tall poles with field lights that illuminate the grounds. I will call a cab to this familiar friendly place. | 1FSA, 1FSA, 2FSA | AP 1FKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0391 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-24 | M | A | I'm sitting in a booth at a well lit uncrowded diner. Two tables away, a happy young couple, clearly hungry, tuck into their full plate meals of meat, potatoes and veggies. I want this food, but order something simpler. When I'm done I spread a paper towel upon the table; with another, I wipe my mouth. My waitress, who resembles Sophia Loren and Ester Greenspan, has laid her arm upon the table.<span style="display:none;">[211]</span> Her open hand awaits the napkin but I simply don't see it. The waitress is smiling at me. A brief exchange. Is she happy and good natured? Or are we flirting? I really like this woman. I would like to ask her out. | 1FSA, 1MSA, 1FOA | HA 1FKA, HA D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0392 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-26 | M | A | Without warning a boy suddenly stabs the man near me, a painful, unmerciful thrust that kills him; a terrible way to die. With someone else, I hunt the boy down, do as he had done, and he falls to the ground, in agony holding his side. As he bleeds to death, we leave him. The dream repeats itself. This time the boy is skinny, dark completed, possibly from India. He sits at a table in a basement restaurant, carving small wood bowls. I begin talking to him, this quiet intensely intelligent child. When he tries to stab me I block the blade, call the police. | 1MSA, 1MSA, 1ISA, 2MOA | SD D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0393 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-27 | M | A | Something bolts onto the wide bright green lawn. I stomp on it, but afterward can't shake it from my foot. Finally I flick the dead rabbit away. Have I been bitten? No. Still, I tell a young girl to get help. | 1ANI, 1FSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0394 | 2016-2017 | 2017-06-27 | M | A | I've met a woman. At the M's house, after dinner we plan to make love. At a bodega, we look at cans of food, at one type in particular which has concentrated protein. Back at the house, the woman sits next to a charismatic man. She's clearly more interested in him then me. I sit to the right of them, forming an awkward triangle. On the table, a large carrot cake. Is it the one bought by Florence? No. I'm angry, sad, disappointed, but try to be happy for the new couple. I will leave. I will leave the table and not return. | 1FSA, 1MSA, 1FKA | AN D, SD D, HA D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0395 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-02 | M | A | Half asleep in my bedroom, I hear someone nearby. Outside the window, looking in, a man obscured by a burlap curtain. We grapple and I pull him inside. He and Dave B have done construction work on my bedroom. The man, who has a DA haircut, says they've done two jobs here without my knowledge. I yell at this man. I tell him that's not right, grab him by his clothes and begin to slam his head against the wall. My first attempts are awkward, but I get the knack and repeatedly bang his head into the wall. As Dave watches, the man breaks free, escapes my room, runs fifty meters across a courtyard, climbs into the window of an old brick apartment building. "Dave. Your friend got away." He doesn't care to answer. I think about going after the escaped man. | 1MSA, 1MKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0396 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-02 | M | A | I break into my grammar school, run down the hallways to the gym, to other areas, to a secret darkened third floor room. Twice, I do that. On the second time I forget my pack. When I return for it, janitors are present. I hear their voices, their cleaning movements. To reach the third floor, I enter unknown corridors and stairways, which lead to small well-kept living quarters. Outside, I must climb a flimsy string ladder to get back to the third floor. A janitor approaches. I must climb quickly, but it's difficult, there are only a few strings to grab hold of. "Excuse me," I say to an attractive middle-aged woman who passes by. In a kind voice, she says the same to me. | 2MOA, 1FSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0397 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-02 | M | A | It's morning. My dog sleeps in bed with me. I'm so happy to see her. She whines a bit. Is she sick? Restless? Does she need to go outside? | 1ANI | HA D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0398 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-03 | M | A | At a college or Y orientation, a well dressed Harvard student, thin, somewhat arrogant, tells me he's leaving. The program or position he wants is not on offer. I go into the black and white tiled bathroom, don a jacket and tie, remove the tie. Back with the students, I'm bare chested. Secretly, I want them to view my body, which is firm and trim. The scene changes. In a small darkened room, along with dozens of students packed like sardines, I lie on my back, bare chested. I want to be seen. | 1MOA, 2JOA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0399 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-04 | M | A | A young couple, having lost their way, spend the night on the first floor of the house I share with my girlfriend. Something about them is not right. Are they drunkards? Thieves? Addicts? Do they have guns? As I lie in bed on the second floor, the man, I imagine it's him, taps gently on the first floor walls. Or is he drilling holes with a nail? I've had enough. I'm calling the police. "I want them out of there," I will tell the 911 operator. "I want them out of here." | 1FSA, 1MSA, 2MOA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0400 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-04 | M | A | At a small once well-stocked book store, two twelve year old girls peruse the shelves. I consider telling them there were more books to select from, now there are less. "Mister, can you take us to a dojo?" one girls asks. I tell her no. I tell her, "You can go to a dojo and ask to sit on the sides and observe. That's the way to do it." She insists. One of the girls attempts to touch my crotch. I start to leave. I will call the police and tell them a young girl has tried to fondle me. I hope the police will believe what I say, not place me under arrest. | 2FSC, 1FSA, 1FSA, 2MOA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0401 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-07 | M | A | I'm sitting in a studio with several young people, in a building similar to Ivy Hill. The room was once part of a larger apartment. From the pair of futon beds that occupy most of the space, I can tell that two people live here. There is hardly anything else, only the built-in wall cabinets, a translucent plastic cabinet on the floor. In Brooklyn, this is what it has come to. At night, in the darkened hallway, I meet two loud, crazed older men, tenants, possibly high. Each man tries to intimidate me, but I'm not afraid. Instead, I will tell the landlord not to rent to persons of this type. Eating a sandwich, I walk outside to Ivy Hill Park. After circling the building, I return to the room, but all the young people are gathered outside on a large wood porch. Suddenly, the lights go out, but no one panics. Back at the room, I talk with people who look familiar. I ask a man if I've shown him my dream journal, and check to make sure it's still in the plastic cabinet on the floor. But this isn't my room. I will return to my apartment. | 2JSA, 1MOA, 2JSA, 1MSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0402 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-08 | M | A | Underground, I'm in a long line waiting to buy a subway ticket. I ask the tall young bushy haired man in front of me, "Is this the way to Boston?" He says yes, but he's drunk. The people in the line walk down a long beige painted corridor to the ticket booth. I walk quickly, ahead of everyone else. The door to the booth is open but there's no one inside. On the hazy window, a small poster advertises an independent record album. From a back door, a light-skinned young black woman enters the booth. She prepares her desk, then steps to the window, looks at me, and says, "Yes?" I tell her, "Round trip to Boston," and pay for the ticket in cash. The scene changes. In a large underground corridor, I'm standing with a man and a woman, waiting for the subway. A distinguished light-skinned black man, wearing a sport jacket and bow tie, arrives. Confident and erudite, he asks if anyone likes poetry, and from a book begins reading aloud. The book's cover has the identical circle/triangle symbol as the poster in the window. When he's done reading, the man remarks that THIS is poetry, or NOW you've heard poetry. But he's actually read from 2600.<span style="display:none;">[212]</span> Abruptly, he departs. In disbelief, the woman looks at the man near her, as if to mockingly ask, "What was THAT?" Or has she understood that the three of us have witnessed an enlightened event? | 1MSA, 2JSA, 1FSA, 1MSA | CO D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0403 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-09 | M | A | I'm lying in bed with a beautiful black woman. She's slender, with straight shoulder length hair and full plump breasts. Kneeling over me, she fondles my cock. I tell her to lean closer, so I can suckle her breasts. When she does, I say, "Yes, just like that." | 1FSA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0404 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-09 | M | A | I'm sitting in the front seat of a car being driven by my grandfather. He has mangled the genitals of a black man. "Are they going to sue" I ask. He says yes, the family will sue. | 1MKA, 1MSA, 2JKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0405 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-11 | M | A | Dave B has nearly finished building something in my room at Highland Place. Only one nail remains to be pounded into a wood plank. Dave begins hammering. I say, "Don't do it, Dave. It's 11pm. They're sleeping, downstairs." | 1MKA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0406 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-11 | M | A | In the woods, as it grows dark, my friend Joan and I walk down a dirt trail. As we head toward a mall to shop, we talk about technology. To learn Spanish Joan wants to buy captioned DVDs. I tell her that's really cool. I tell her that when DVDs first came out, to be able to switch languages, to change the channels by remote control, was amazing. "I hadn't had a remote control in 20 years." Joan says, "And you just sit there and change the channel. I know. 'Click-click. Click-click.'" A male jogger, with unruly black hair, and wearing red trunks, runs by. A car winds up the road; I step to one side. | 1FKA, 1MSA | CO D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0407 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-12 | M | A | Late at night, with the wife of a friend, we return to a large hotel or mansion and continue to play at flirting. When she goes to a kitchen cupboard for something to eat, to freshen my breath, I tear off a fragment from a large cake coated with chocolate. But the cake is not chocolate and I'm disappointed. My friends wife reaches into a shelf for a bag of rolls. As she stands on a cobblestone floor, she stumbles, nearly falls, climbs to a small cubby atop the cupboard. From there she watches a kitten repeatedly jump at me, claw its way up my sport jacket, like a stubborn goat bang its head into me, bite me, fall to the floor. This happens several times. The biting becomes vicious, painful, causing me to struggle, to yell, "Stop! Stop!" | 1FKA, 1ANI | SD D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0408 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-13 | M | A | A group of young people play a game lead by their teacher, an old man who resembles Eric Remarque.<span style="display:none;">[213]</span> He tells them whoever wants to can improvise a brief nonsense song or dance. Marc V enthusiastically spreads his arms several times and utters a sing song phrase. The effort is interesting but uninspired. A moment later, with similar results, he tries again, heedless of being impolite. Another boy volunteers. As with Volpe, his effort is avid but stale. These are my impressions, my judgements. As for me, I'm too shy to perform, though I could be much better. The scene changes. Marc V, wearing a 19th century military uniform, is lead from jail. So that he does not run away, the teacher accompanies him, protects him. As part of his punishment, Volpe carries a half-size M16, a small fan at the barrel tip. As he walks forward, his face filled with despair, I consider that by force of will he can overcome the annoyance of the small weapon and fan. | 2JSA, 1MOA, 1MSA, 1MSA, 1MKA | SD 1MKA |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0409 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-14 | M | A | In Vietnam, years after the war has ended, another man and I come upon a sort of warehouse in the countryside, stocked full with beautiful handmade wood bowls, tables and cabinets, desks and chairs. I'm about to go up a narrow stairway when the other man, on the second floor, tells me, "There's nothing here." After looking about, outside we find more wood products, and spread upon the ground like skeletons, yokes and harnesses made of thick plastic rope, likely worn by slaves. In a dank workshop basement a man describes a Vietnam vet who drove USO girls to various rear bases.<span style="display:none;">[214]</span> He says we knew this man, and shows me his tarnished medallion, the words inscribed upon it illegible. We leave the workshop to walk through a village, where I meet, or imagine meeting Ba. I ask Ba what the Vietnamese do upon finding the remains of their war dead. It must still happen. What do the Vietnamese do? | 1MSA, 2MOA, 1MOA, 2FEA, 2MEA | null |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0410 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-14 | M | A | Inside a pitch black cave made of coal, I'm digging. Except for gravity, it's impossible to know which way is up or down. I know that every so often the coal will fracture, break apart, creating space and air, but the risk of cave in, of being buried alive, is constant. I keep digging, unafraid, hoping to find a way out. | null | AP D |
vietnam_vet3 | Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams | 0411 | 2016-2017 | 2017-07-15 | M | A | I enter the second floor of Dave B's apartment. Among the people present, I see Michelle M, stretched out on a black wood board.<span style="display:none;">[215]</span> A dark husky-like dog sits up, but not, as I expected, to greet me, or approach when I call it. "Here, babe," says Michelle, offering me a joint. But I don't want it, or her, and passive aggressively sit by the dog. After saying hello, a thin young man with unruly black hair, who might be Mike E, says, "I heard you weren't feeling well."<span style="display:none;">[216]</span> "That was something else," I tell him. "This is different." "I think you're a cop," he says. He's lying but wants me killed. Concealing my fear, I tell him, "That's your perception, pal." I have to leave this place. These people want to kill me. I wake with fear and dread. | 1MKA, 1FKA, 1ANI, 1MSA, 1MOA | AP D |