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vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0412

2016-2017

2017-07-19

M

A

At night, on a country road, I find my way to the M's house, which resembles the home where my father lived with his large family. A truck appears to be heading this way, it's headlights glare in the darkness. I have fear but wonder, who is it? What do they want? The truck idles, turns round, leaves. Even so, I run to the front yard, push past a scaffold of moveable steps, causing it to lean sideways, run a gauntlet of tall grass and shrubs, finally enter the house, where a party is just ending. My cousin Marna, who is young, appears dazed. She is also Patti M, with two children: a beautiful infant, possibly Justin; a toddler, possibly Travis. Whereas Justin happily thinks the world revolves around him, Marna is unhappy. Is this the woman Uncle Shelly (her father) deserted? A third brother, a teenager, arrives. Marna complains to him that the toddler is the center of her world. After an awkward pause, she and I walk up a narrow staircase to find the party guests. For an instant, I see my neighbor wandering the hall. Discovering the room we wish to enter is locked, we go outside; someone has left the front door open. Entering, we walk upstairs to the large crowded bedroom, where an erudite black youth tells me he once stood near a female rock star.

1FKA, 1MKA, 2JSC, 1MKA, 1FSA, 1MSA, 1FSA, 1MSA

AP D, SD 1FKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0413

2016-2017

2017-07-20

M

A

I'm happy, walking down a residential street, similar to Highland Place, headed toward a familiar wood. A young man with two off leash terriers heads my way. In my good mood I hold a pretzel up to the running dogs, which run and jump for it. But the pretzel is too salty. I withhold it. Further on, I pass a tall brick building. From an upper floor, two boys throw water bombs which land not from me. I look up. A horses head and long neck hang from an open window. I imagine calling the police. It's hot. I take off my beige canvas pants, leave them on the sidewalk, go on my way. Near the military-like water front I'm aware there's a choice to decide. Take the ferry or continue on foot. I'll walk. Suddenly I realize I'm wearing only a T shirt and underwear; my phone, keys and wallet are in my pants. Panicked, I head back to Highland Place. On the sidewalk I see a large heavy cart, and push it along. When it gains speed I'll hop on; the carts momentum will power the trip. But the cart belongs to a building contractor who's searching for tools inside his VW van. I stop the cart just in time. A collision would have crumpled the VW's side door or fender. I continue walking. My pants might still be there. Or someone may have rifled the pockets. I mull over cancelling my credit cards, replacing my phone and keys.

1MSA, 2ANI, 2MSA, 1ANI, 1ISA

HA D, AP D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0414

2016-2017

2017-07-22

M

A

In a basement similar to 39 Ivy Street someone demonstrates the properties of black crayons adaptable to floor tiles. The family dog, a young Shepherd Setter mix, begins to lick the black residue from the tiled floor. I tell her to stop, but the chalk is sweet and flavorful, and she will not listen. Finally, I grab her. Anticipating being hit, she rolls on her back. But I hold the dog, nestle her to my neck, pet her, love her, to the point where I become aroused.

1ISA, 1ANI

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0415

2016-2017

2017-07-23

M

A

In a cozy auditorium, My former girlfriend Karen and I attend a poetry reading organized by people we know. A man wearing a short brimmed cap steps to the stage. He has chiseled features, a compact build, a sureness about himself, much like a man known from actual poetry events. High on the wall to his left, hangs a bust of himself; I consider it odd. The man describes his book, talks about what he will read. The next thing I know, the lights come on, people are clapping. I had slept through the reading. The man now describes the woman who paid for the bust, which is incomplete. He relates the animosity between them, how he put a pin in the sculpture, how she retaliated. In some way, this all relates to the Civil War. As the man starts to leave, I wonder if he noticed that I had slept. My former girlfriend Karen asks me, "What would you like to do?" I tell her there's a store across the street where I can buy a snack, but I'm really struggling with whether to say, "I want to be with you," or "I want to stay here with you."

1FKA, 2JKA, 1MSA, 1FSA, 1FSA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0416

2016-2017

2017-07-24

M

A

Evening. In a parking lot near the woods, I'm with two young men, about to complete a drug deal. One of the men, who is black, and armed with a forty-five pistol and money, is in charge. I grow impatient. What are we waiting for? The black man orders one of the dealers to hand me a Luger-like long-barreled twenty-two caliber pistol. I stand up, walk about, clear my throat. Finally, we leave, but other men are approaching. "Allah!" they shout. "Allah!" the young black man shouts in reply. "Hey man, I'm not messing around," he says. But something is not right. Who are these men? I imagine they may kill us with shots to the head.

2MSA, 1MSA, 1MOA, 2MSA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0417

2016-2017

2017-07-25

M

A

Out in a field, under a sunny blue sky, in the distance, a woman I want to meet. I can tell that her bear is tame, and I'm not afraid to call it. Even so, I start to run. "Come on! Come on!" I yell, as the beast, like a huge shaggy dog, trundles toward me. Closing in, I see its huge sharp teeth, its foamy white spittle, its slobbering pink tongue. The woman runs toward us, trying to calm the bear, which verges on play and attack. At the last possible moment, the beast slides to the ground; I begin petting it. I have no fear, but I'm fully aware of my close call with danger.

1FSA, 1ANI

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0418

2016-2017

2017-07-25

M

A

On the stage of a cozy auditorium three senators are grilled about ethics violations. With his back to the audience, Senator Sanders stands at a bookcase stocked with books on law. A black bound volume falls to the floor. Immediately the other books tilt left and right. Someone says, "You know where this is going." As the moderator continues his query, Senator Sanders collapses. I lean over him, touch his carotid artery, say to him, "Bernie... Bernie..." He seems dead, then starts to breathe. "I'm sick," he says. I yell to the audience, "Call the police! Is there a doctor here? Call the police!" Someone yells, "I'm trying. What's the room number?" I don't know and it doesn't matter. They should make the call. The police or EMT will figure it out.

2MOA, 1MPA, 1ISA, 1ISA, 1MOA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0419

2016-2017

2017-07-27

M

A

I'm sharing a bedroom with a beautiful woman. She's tall, slender, blonde. We sleep head to toe, our beds arranged ten to fifteen feet apart. I have trouble breathing, several times clear my throat. Finally I get up, walk to the door. The woman, wearing pajamas, lies upon her bed, splayed provocatively. "You too," I say, and sit next to her. "Oh, no you don't," she says. I say, "Look, Pauline..." "Toots," she says sternly. "Call me Toots. And don't try anything." I tell her I'm not hitting on her, but she's probably heard that before. Calmly, I say, "You're a good- looking woman. Guys probably hit on you all the time. I'm sorry if someone hurt you. I'm not into that." She remains wary, defiant. I say, "Here is the cliche part of the movie. Beneath that hard exterior, you're a nice person." She is gruff, but less so. I like this woman. I really like her.

1FSA, 1FKA

HA D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0420

2016-2017

2017-07-28

M

A

The family of a famous activist visits my house for dinner. As we eat, behind us, at another table, a little girl with expressive eyes stares at me intensely. After the meal the family lines up to say goodbye, and I look forward to their hugs. But the two son's offer only brief embraces. Finally, the father a tall distinguished man, his leathery face a warren of crags and valleys, towers over me, holds me gently to his chest. At parting, in a jocular way, he says he will contact me about his next protest action, at a jail. Waking, with deliberation I say, "Thank you for dropping by."

1MPA, 1FSC, 1MSA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0421

2016-2017

2017-07-28

M

A

I'm in Rowley, where Hilary Clinton went to college; I keep expecting to see her. In a large empty classroom, on a wide desk, I set up my computers: an old Apple desktop, its boxy monitor, my HP laptop. I want to view porn but students arrive. I have to pee. Returning from the bathroom, I find the desk empty. Is this the right room? I search several nearly identical classrooms. I should have known better. My wallet, the computers and peripherals, my flip phone are gone. I'll feel angry later. Right now I'm disappointed in myself. I should file a police report, and contact the credit card companies, but without their 800 numbers I'll have to call a friend to avoid the 411 fee. Walking through cavernous halls similar to New York's 42nd Street subway station, with its circus like gaudy stores, long grim passages, I ask a student for directions. Go straight, he says, then left. In a cramped stairway I struggle to climb over a pastel painted bannister. An sickly looking old man helps me, but several times grabs my crotch. What's wrong with him? Where are his boundaries? Finally I meet two male students. "And they got the Iron Key, too," I tell them. "What's that?" asks the handsome boy with long dark blonde hair. "It's an encrypted thumb drive." "Oh," he says, "you really have to be good to have one of those." I tell him I'm not technically savvy, but as we walk through a dark blasted landscape, littered with debris, he doesn't hear what I've said. "Why would anyone at this school steal my computers?" I ask. "They could have been vodking, or doing kratom," he replies.<span style="display:none;">[217]</span>

1FPA, 2MOA, 1MSA, 1MOA

AN D, SD D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0422

2016-2017

2017-07-29

M

A

I'm with my old platoon on a firebase in Vietnam. An FNG obsesses about the shitter, located fifty meters out, near the wood line.<span style="display:none;">[218]</span> He fears being caught in a mortar attack and asks the quickest route to the barrel/box commode. I tell him, "My idea is less logical but more practical." Pointing to the green sloping lawn that is no-man's-land, I say, "You practice sprinting fifty meters and back. Do that three or four times. Rest twenty seconds. Do it again." The fearful FNG listens to my every word. The scene changes. Pointman Larry Roy and I walk through the base, a grim desolate wasteland of battle worn equipment, forlorn bunkers, upturned earth. As in life, Larry is talkative, energetic. "What's with Rudy and water?" he asks in his high pitched voice. I tell him Rudy and the other grunts are obsessed with water. I tell him about the FNG. We pass a REMF bunker with a private latrine.<span style="display:none;">[219]</span> I say, "I need to use this place." "Sure," says Larry, as we enter, "we can keep talking." There are two toilets either end of the decrepit latrine. I take the near one. Larry sits on the other, twenty-five meters away. "I haven't done this in a long time, " I tell him, recalling the communal toilets at Fort Sam. We proceed to talk and defecate.

2MOA, 1MOA, 2MOA, 1MKA

AP 1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0423

2016-2017

2017-07-30

M

A

High on a hill overlooking a crater-like valley, I'm young, playing baseball with friends from Highland Place. Twice, in his familiar voice, my brother calls my name. I turn to see him with Bobby Golden and Wayne Simon. My brother tells me the theatrical play has been cancelled. I'm disappointed, frustrated. That's the second time this has happened. "No more with them," I say.

2IKA, 1MKA, 1MPA

SD D, AN D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0424

2016-2017

2017-07-30

M

A

I have the power to levitate and am slowly flying high above a city boulevard. "C'mon," I say, willing myself faster. Soon, just thirty or forty feet off the ground, I'm speeding down a country highway. Passing the mangled body of a crushed cat stained by blood and gore, I say, "I'm sorry." Next, I pass the large crumpled body of an Irish Setter. A flying motorcycle, I'm going too fast, losing control. As if the bike was a living thing, I coax it to land. "Easy. Easy," I say to it. A small young Hispanic woman, unattractive, dismounts from the machine. Diminutively, she says, "Soon, stomach is regular." I take this to mean her period has ended. In a fatherly way, I tell her, "Good. Good."

1ANI, 1ANI, 1FSA

SD D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0425

2016-2017

2017-07-31

M

A

With a dozen men and women, I've entered a narrow rectangular room that is under siege. I take charge, handing out hundreds of gloves, pants, socks, shirts, which are tightly packed at one end of the room. A pushy volunteer asks an irrelevant question. I say, "Oh, don't tell me. You're a genius with a J."

2JSA, 1IOA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0426

2016-2017

2017-07-31

M

A

At a busy restaurant counter, I buy food for my brother and myself. "Seven fifty," says the waitress, an attractive, chatty, gaunt brunette who wears a paper tiara in her 1940s style hair. She places two large glass soda bottles and another item into a white paper bag, but I've forgotten the Danish, which sits on the counter, obscured by the napkin holder. "And this too," I tell her, picking up the savory. Her large brown eyes dart back and forth as she bags the Danish, adds up the total. "$3.20," she says furtively, which seems over priced. As if reading my thoughts she says, "I gave you another."

1MKA, 1FOA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0427

2016-2017

2017-07-31

M

A

A man from my platoon gives me a computer tablet. Later, I boot up and find a dozen photo portraits of men in the platoon. In these 1969 close ups, each man stares directly into the camera, expressionless, unsmiling. Round faced or oval, pie faced or square, they are hollow, empty, grim. I recognize the barb wire and sand bag bunkers which appear in several snap shots, and imagine kneeling in front a blast wall, as though it was an alter. I must give these 1969 photos, of men before my time, to Mike W. I will email them to Jerry, who will show them to Mike.

1MKA, 2MKA, 1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0428

2016-2017

2017-08-01

M

A

In Washington, DC I'm in a posh hotel room with three fellow reporters. Our story assignment cancelled, we've decided to stay the night. The Frenchman, an acetic looking older man with a shaved head, in a thick accent, asks, "Does anyone have any stories to tell?" But there are concerns about security; the room may be bugged. Warily, the other's leave, but I stay, feeling somewhat guilty to depart this luxurious room with its costly drapes, expensive bed and fine furniture, its landscape views. Outside, on the trail below, an athletic girl runs past. Soon after, I hear two or three people approaching; they walk up the slate stairway, which is similar to my grandparents summer house. These reporters think they're late to the story. "Entrez...entrez," I call to them through the screened windows and door. Seated tableside, everyone jovial, I tell them how you sit and talk, are assigned a number, so that, for example, you are number five, and everything you say, you write down, they know it's you by your number. "And the more you talk, the more you are digging your grave, paragraph by paragraph." I relate these things quickly, in a humorous manner, which the reporters find funny.

2MOA, 1MSA, 1FSA, 2ISA

AP D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0429

2016-2017

2017-08-03

M

A

In Vietnam, I'm with my brother, high up in the dark sky. Very far below us, I see American and enemy troops. At a burst of machine gun fire I say, "Motherfuckers. Motherfuckers." I'm fearful of the falling bullets. When my brother urges me to keep quiet I seek shelter in his arms. The enemy ignites skyrockets that soar up, bursting harmlessly over us. My brother says that a man he knows has killed two men, and that he is emotionally distraught. I want to know more, but my brother won't tell me. The scene changes. It's dark. I'm near an enormous black dumpster, where an amorphous black creature, partly obscured, tries to attack me. I trap the creature inside the dumpster, and lock shut the heavy metal door. As the creature rails and struggles to escape, gleefully, I yell, "You can't get out! You can't get out!" But the creature manages to climb half way out, and we begin grappling. I'm afraid, but rally myself to face this protean black thing, to abandon my fears, and fight the monster, grab and fight it.

1MKA, 2MOA, 1MKA, 1MSA, 1CZZ

AP D, HA D, SD 1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0430

2016-2017

2017-08-04

M

A

I'm with My former girlfriend Karen and two other women. Dressed as 18th century English dairy maids in long skirts and bonnets, we're performing in a silent comedy of manners. At one point I embrace Karen from behind, and press my loins into her. From beneath her flowing skirt, I press two fingers to the cleft impressed on her panties, and gently massage it. Karen says, "It's getting wet. Don't do it. Stop." And I stop, telling her, "You're so beautiful."

1FKA, 2FSA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0431

2016-2017

2017-08-04

M

A

Eerily, none of the lights in my bedroom at Highland Place will work. I try to replace them but with glass stems, not metal bases, the new bulbs are useless. On the floor, as if thrown down and abandoned, sits a white wood shutter, the two panels, at right angles, glued in place. But all the windows have their shutters. Who put this one here? My dog saunters into the room, hopes up onto the bed, sheltering herself f in my arms. I talk to her, asking her what she wants. Outside, it's raining, stormy. When I open the door to my mother's room, I behold an extraordinary sight. In place of the white walled cubicle, with its triple window pane, compact twin bed, the little faux antique desk and ice cream parlor chair, the brown veneer bureau, there is instead a great dark hall, filled with exotic furnishings, foreign curios, fine costly rugs, travel souvenirs from around the world. Close by, completely still, with a towel or white cloth or veil covering his head, my brother sits quite and erect in a wing back chair. I look at the round clock high up on the wall. I say to my brother, "Dave, it's nearly 2am, and she's not here." "Don't worry," he says, "She'll be here."

1ANI, 1FKA, 1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0432

2016-2017

2017-08-05

M

A

On a bright day, in a grassy field, on an expansive lawn, I sit beside the living grave of Marilyn Monroe. Flat on the ground, the oblong headstone consists of translucent flower petals which form Monroe's black silhouette upon a background of white. Nearby, spaced a meter apart, the living graves of several young women, college students, who are dressed in white diaphanous gowns, and who lie upon their backs. A slim and pretty girl says she's bored with this summer job. Several girls note the pay, low at $8.50 per hour.

1FPA, 2FSA, 1FSA, 2FSA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0433

2016-2017

2017-08-05

M

A

In a foreign country, near a railroad station, hundreds of people gather in a large open field; a dance or celebration is underway. I meet a dark complected middle-aged Indian woman. She is sad and serious, and I ask her to dance with me. As we make our way into the crowd, she sees her husband with a much younger woman, and becomes upset. "What do you want to do?" I ask her. "Do you want to confront him?" She says yes, we head to where we last saw him, but I lose sight of the Indian woman, find a place on the sidelines, sit and watch people. Fifty yards behind me, on a quiet street, stands a dilapidated building, its rotted rattan shutters, which appear blackened from fire, and which bow outward, as if any moment they will collapse, occasionally are stirred by wind. Or are young boys inside the abandoned building? Little thieves. "I see you fucker's," I shout. Not wanting my back to them, I stand up and begin walking to the end of the field. Soon, my pants, which are made of a single piece of winding cloth, start to unravel. I hitch them up, ignoring the two young men behind me, who have seen this happen many times. I cross a ravine, climb a small hill, arrive at the far end of the field and gaze at the people. In order to pee, I step back down. Just then two young women, American hikers, walk past. I sit on the ground and lace my boots. One of the women, a bit of tom boy, attractive and fit, sits next to me. She asks if I have any antiseptic, and points to the long scar that winds down her leg. The large wart on her kneecap is in the same place I have a puncture scar from fighting with my brother. I tell her, "I'm sorry. I don't." I like this woman. She's friendly, open, sincere. Someone approaches: a man with a clean shaven head and prominent nose sits behind me. I sense trouble, and imagine trying to hit him in the ear to put him off balance. When that fails, grappling, he tries to pinch my nose.

2JSA, 1MSA, 1FSA, 2MSA, 1FSA, 1MSA

SD 1MKA, AP 1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0434

2016-2017

2017-08-06

M

A

In a foreign country, possibly Mexico, I meet an older woman, prim and proper, and wearing an old fashioned straw hat. We decide to return to the hotel, but she will meet me there. After waiting in the spartan adobe-like room, with its sharp angles and perfect shadows, I grow impatient and leave. Careful not to be seen, I walk through a sun drenched adobe walled alley bordered by shrubs and trees, which leads to a verdant field. I levitate, at first rising inch by inch off the ground. Finally, gaining speed and height, I'm flying, following the path of railroad tracks a hundred feet below. In the distance, coming towards me, a train locomotive shaped like the fuselage of a C-123 cargo plane.<span style="display:none;">[220]</span> There is the roar of its mighty prop and jet engines, the sight of the immense black sphere painted on its nose. As we rush toward each other I let out a whoop of joy. Somehow, we do not collide. Once home, upon opening the door to my apartment, a grim, low ceilinged prison-like cell, I find my bed, nearly all my possessions, are gone. Where will I sleep? I'll have to buy a new futon. As well, the toilet has flushed all this time. Filthy water fills the deep ruts in the equally filthy cement floor. I walk out and enter the next door apartment. Windowless, but roomy, with a broad parquet floor, a spacious white painted bookcase, pastel painted walls, it resembles my Brooklyn apartment. A stocky light-skinned black man, his back toward me, busies himself straightening things up. "I'm sorry," I say, "I thought this was my apartment." He doesn't mind, but grimaces when I tell him the apartment needs windows.

1FSA, 1MSA

HA D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0435

2016-2017

2017-08-07

M

A

In a bathroom similar to that at Highland Place, a tall woman, slender and attractive, her golden hair tied in bun, says she's my mother. Undoing her white terrycloth bathrobe, she bares her breasts. Immediately I want to suckle them. But she is cold, haughty, and leaves. Standing there alone, I'm frustrated, confused. The scene changes. On a bright clear day, at a field track whose seats are supported by white roller coaster-like scaffolds, which curve inward, like immense inverted ribs, I run laps. The golden haired woman runs close behind me. In a Dylanesque way I sing the words, "Well, I don't mind...this whole 'Viet Naa ahm waaar.'" To make running easier, I begin taking off my pants. Reaching forward, the woman helps me remove them.

1FSA

AN D, CO D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0436

2016-2017

2017-08-08

M

A

A baseball game is under way in a partially overgrown field similar to that at Elk Grove Camp. Fifteen or sixteen years old, I'm at bat, determined not to swing unless the ball is perfectly thrown. There is tension each time Steve Shack winds up to pitch. This time, slightly high and to the right, the ball roars in. I lean slightly back and downward, letting it sail over my head. Everyone waits for the umpires call. Full count. The next two pitches, intentionally low, skim the ground. Hurriedly, I trot to first base, which is partially obscured by tall grass and scrub. There are men on base. There is tension.

1MKA, 2MOA, 2MOA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0437

2016-2017

2017-08-11

M

A

In the shapeless night things have fundamentally changed. My father moves slowly towards me, his large leathery face deeply lined. He's sightless. "I'm sorry," I tell him, and ask his forgiveness.

1MKA

SD D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0438

2016-2017

2017-08-11

M

A

Everywhere is complete darkness. Hearing someone, I make my way toward them. "Where is everything?" I ask. What is that scraping noise?

1ISA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0439

2016-2017

2017-08-12

M

A

On a beach in a foreign country, I walk up a tall sand dune, hoping people will look at my firm abs. Sitting on a skeletal wood platform, the life guard calls out in Spanish. Is he talking to me? He is not, but I would have ignored him anyway. From the top of the dune, hoping to see land, I gaze upon a half dozen gray sandy inlets where several families casually swim in pools of clear water. With no land to cross, I turn around, descend the dune by sinking two feet into the sand; my body's momentum carries me down hill. On the level wet shoreline, fit men and boys in swim trunks speed past on motorized surf boards. One man, racing towards me at 30 to 40 miles an hour, passes by within inches. I think, "These things are totally unregulated." I walk down an alley, past several soccer playing youth. Moments later, as two players, a man and a boy, give chase, their colorful green ball rolls past. Half-heartedly I try to stop it, then continue walking, searching for the street. It's no use, the graffiti sprayed alley is walled in, a dead end. "Where's the exit," I ask the older player, a man wearing blue coveralls. He motions in the opposite direction, glancing at his friend; he indicates he thinks I'm stupid. We walk a few meters, he stops to open a padlocked door, beckons me inside. I will not enter this trap. Sensing imminent danger, wanting to run, I walk away. Waking, I have dread.

1MOA, 2JSA, 1MSA, 2MOA, 1MOA, 1MOA

AP D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0440

2016-2017

2017-08-13

M

A

In a foreign country, I'm a front seat passenger in a car driven by a short black haired Indian man. There's little space between the front seat and dashboard; we're both nearly pressed against it. Two other short Indian men sit in back. At a cross roads, a sizable American car from the opposite direction veers head on into us. The moment of impact, so plain, so factual, unfurls in slow motion. After the loud jarring crash, the driver and I, the two men in back, exit the car, unhurt but shaken. The persons in the other vehicle require medical help. Who has a phone? Who is calling the police, the EMT? Where are we? What is the address? I walk about. The landscape, with its seaweed choked oasis and tall palms, seems prehistoric. A passing black woman, her face serene, aristocratic, her high hair wrapped in a turban, ignores my pleas. Walking down a muddy embankment, careful so as not to fall, I lose my footing and slide into the murky water, which is back lit by the sun. A large sleek fish, half shark, half trout, which I had seen before falling in, gnaws steadily at my hands. I struggle to push it away, and wake with fear.

1MEA, 2MEA, 1FSA, 2MOA, 1ANI

AP D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0441

2016-2017

2017-08-14

M

A

With two homeless women I share a below street level spartan room. There's tension here. Our belongings are scattered all around the cement floor. I reach a breaking point, go berserk, lift the women, their possessions, off the ground; like rag dolls toss them repeatedly down. One woman, cocooned in a tangle of dark curly hair, clothes and blankets, lays motionless, dazed. The other woman stares aimlessly into space. Outside, a woman from next door runs past the street level window. I start to leave, to walk up a long ramp, past the aimless woman, to tell our neighbors what I've done.

2FSA, 1FSA, 1FSA, 2JKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0442

2016-2017

2017-08-14

M

A

My brother and I walk along a sandy shore, much like Jetty's Beach on Nantucket. Suddenly, enormous seals rise from the water, repeatedly dive down, as they swim to land. Huge sleek animals, dark rose in color, the intelligent creatures have small narrow mouths, sharp pointy teeth. I take off running, jump over the water, fall short, manage to pull myself up to the old wooden dock. With strength and agility, I grasp a windows safety bars, contort, wriggle, work my way into the darkened house. Anyone watching will have noticed my strong fit body, my tight firm abs.

1MKA, 2ANI

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0443

2016-2017

2017-08-15

M

A

On a cold rainy autumn night, I'm walking down Highland Place, heading home. The lights of the second floor living room stream past the slatted blinds. As I walk up the staircase, the outer glass door swings loudly shut. The neighbors must be used to its annoying metallic clap. My mother stands in the open upstairs doorway. "Oh, hi mom," I say, entering the apartment. "I bought some things for dinner," she replies. My dog wags her tail excitedly. An expectant look fills her face. Out. She wants to go out. I will do anything for this dog.

2JKA, 1FKA, 1ANI

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0444

2016-2017

2017-08-15

M

A

I'm with my squad on patrol in a North American landscape of forested hills and valleys. Suddenly we're caught in an ambush. The roar of weaponry is overwhelming. There's little cover, nowhere to hide. I shelter behind the dead and wounded. I'm thinking, "So this is how it ends. I'm going to die." I pluck a full magazine from the bandolier of a dead or wounded soldier but in the chaos I keep pushing it into the magazine well the wrong way. The scene changes. With little cover, we're setting up a perimeter on a dark earthy hill. I'm neatly laying out the items in my wallet, a few things from my pack. Fifty meters ahead, a grunt tosses a frag near the mouth of a cave. There is the fiery blast, moments later dust and bits of sharp blow toward us. I can tell they're harmless. In a kind voice I say to the grunt, "I wish you hadn't done that."

2MOA, 2MOA, 1MOA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0445

2016-2017

2017-08-16

M

A

On a cloudy day, in a grassy field, I'm seated in the cockpit of a WWI biplane, trying to operate the controls. Rudder, clutch, joystick. I can't make sense of anything. It's so discouraging. I want to learn how to fly. The scene changes. In a larger grassy field, Skinny Bob and several men from my platoon sit inside a space ship. The craft resembles a large upturned copper kettle, its entire surface, like tooled leather, pocked by hammer blows. Set in brass sashes, small circular windows gird its sides. I sit nearby, watching, offering encouragement. Initially, things look well. The craft lifts up, slowly circles the field. It begins to wobble. "Straighten out," I yell to the men inside. The unsteady space ship makes several dips, lazily falls to the ground, tumbles to a stand still. At once, I rush to the overturned thing, call out to the men trapped inside, collect the delicate brass gears, unbroken pieces of glass which lie strewn about. The precious parts can be used to repair or rebuild the damage craft. The men inside are unhurt.

1MKA, 2MKA

AP D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0446

2016-2017

2017-08-17

M

A

In a dark walled corridor similar to My old high school, my brother and I reach for bags of food sitting atop a small shed. "Who brought those here?" I ask. My brother names the person. Each paper bag or cellophane sack contains a type of bread. There are fluffy rolls, white loaves, soft round pita, scraps of twisted salt pretzels. When I open that bag, the crumbs fall to the green floor, into the shed. Except for its white speckled linoleum tiles, inside the shed, which resembles the M's unfinished Ivy Street basement, it's dark, dank, forbidding. I kneel, pick up the scraps, which include squashed peas. Who will clean the floor? Sweep and mop it?

1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0447

2016-2017

2017-08-19

M

A

Young and confident, I walk down the aisle of a large room filled with women, here to meet men. Large women, tall women, old, pale and plain women, fill the student chairs with their cumbersome arm rests. They are talking, hopeful, slightly anxious, looking about. Toward the right front of the room, I see an attractive, dark haired, fit and buxom woman wearing a fashionable solid color knit skirt and blouse. She is the one person here I want to meet. To her left sits the young Italian, Joe F. As in high school, he is tall, dark complected, with a swimmer's athletic build. Though not handsome, his large black eyes dominate his skull; his black hair, neatly slicked back, is rakishly parted to one side. As in life, he is haughty, conceited, arrogant. The woman, slouched in her chair, avoids eye contact. "Anyone sitting there?" I ask Joe, pointing to the empty seat to her right. In his smug way he ignores me. I repeat the question, this time louder, insistent. Still no answer. Drawn by the threat of conflict, I sit next to the woman.

2FSA, 2MSA, 1FSA, 1MKA

AP D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0448

2016-2017

2017-08-20

M

A

At a summer day camp, I share a bunk with my brother's counselor, recognizable by his widow's peak, cleft chin, his stocky wrestler's build. In the darkened room, beneath the green Army wool blanket, as we sleep in the small bed, when Bob's arm touches mine, I inch away, imagine sex with Susan. The scene changes. I'm alone in a tiny room similar to one rented in Todos Santos. Is it the wind, is someone trying to enter through the single small window? I imagine hitting them while they're caught in broken glass. The next day, in the forest, on a dirt road, I'm trying to ride a too tall bicycle. The trick is to wheel forward, step on one pedal, then hop on. "I'll get use to it," I tell myself. I pedal up a steep hill, coast down, then ride fifty yards down the straight road, back to Bob. But train tracks have replaced the road, and I imagine speeding up, trying to avoid the train behind me. I imagine being flattened, crumpled to death. I thank Bob for using the grunt photo taken in Song Be. I tell him that by placing it at the end, some people will connect the image with the other pictures of myself. Those few people will understand the deeper meaning of his film.

1MKA, 1FKA, 1ISA, 2JSA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0449

2016-2017

2017-08-21

M

A

On a cold rainy night I sneak into Nan's big warm comfortable house.<span style="display:none;">[221]</span> The lights are out. I step quietly, telling myself Nan must be upstairs; old or sleeping, she can't hear me. By touch, I make my way to the kitchen, tuck a long cylindrical paper bag into a cabinet. I think, "When she sees this she'll wonder, 'How did that get here?'" then ignore it. Cat-like, I retrace my steps through darkened rooms, past the hallway with many dark colored wide brim women's hats, each artfully hung on the wall, out to the back yard. But I've forgotten the chain link fence which surrounds it. With no supporting poles, the sagging fence is hard to climb. I manage to grab hold of a shiny white painted tree root and haul myself up, though nearly slipping onto the wet earth. Past the fence, I walk through a peninsular field similar to a boyhood moor on Nantucket. Down below, a petite young woman dressed in a brides white gown, walks this way. She hasn't seen me. I imagine calling out, "It's the bride of Frankenstein!" and walk towards her. Seeing me, she turns left. Oh well. From this high ground, I'll jump and fly home. How long will I stay aloft before landing in the sea? From high above a marina, looking down, the boats and walkways resemble beautifully patterned pastel quilts. I'm drifting. Which way is Salem? I'm not sure. Right. I need to go right. If I land in the ocean, I'll call someone, give them a sense of where I am.

1FKA, 1FSA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0450

2016-2017

2017-08-21

M

A

Two or three times over several weeks four out of town women have inquired about purchasing the house next door. In fact, I learn that they live close by. There they are, with friends, crowded around a large oval table with friends, excitedly talking, eating, being served by middle- aged light-skinned man who resembles Alberta, my grandmothers mulatto maid. Wearing a white plastic apron, he carries a large metal tray filled with hot dogs immersed in water. His catering business is called Dawgies Hot Dogs. Annoyed, I walk toward him, pick up a similar tray, and walk past the crowded table, intending to dump the hot dogs in the garbage can behind the house. How can I do that without being seen? The scene changes. I walk past a tall thin attractive young woman lying on a beach chair on the side walk. She wears a tight fitting green knit dress; her legs are drawn up. I know this woman from college. I say, "Behind me, sitting at the table," and tell her all the above. Waking, I say, "Anyway, how are you?"

2FSA, 2IKA, 1MSA, 1FKA, 1FKA

AN D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0451

2016-2017

2017-08-22

M

A

The writer Rod Serling and I discuss writing.<span style="display:none;">[222]</span> He describes how he analyzes each word in scripts sent by fans. Taking my notebook, he confidently draws multiple diagonal lines across the page. "Like that," he says. Detailing a recent story, he tells me, "Look. A man is interlocked with a peach." Surprised, embarrassed, I ask, "Do you mean the guy's having sex with a peach?" "Yes," he replies, matter-of-factly. "With a peach."

1MPA, 2ISA, 1MSA

CO D, AP D

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0452

2016-2017

2017-08-23

M

A

While my mother stand immobile at the kitchen sink my brother and I put garbage into bags. Among the debris, a long strand of black co-axial cable, which might be useful elsewhere. Both our parents, my father stands next to her, are dying. Somehow, my mother says, "You know, Marc, there are standards of care..." I tell her I don't care. I look in the sink, expecting to see vomit and urine. It's empty. My brother says he wants to stay. I tell him, no, we're leaving. I have no feelings for her. Not even anger. I have hatred.<span style="display:none;">[223]</span>

1FKA, 1MKA, 1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0453

2016-2017

2017-08-25

M

A

At the top of a tall, darkened staircase I confront a mysterious man or woman, dressed in black. As we rapidly descend the spiraling steps, I shout repeatedly, "I'm gonna kill you, motherfucker!" The scene changes. In a low lit singles club with Jeff as I walk through a dark crowded hallway, a young man provocatively touches my palm.<span style="display:none;">[224]</span> To his whispered code word, I say, "No," and continue walking. A large blonde woman ignores me. Through a glass double door overlooking a garden, Jeff and I watch a dozen off leash pedigree dogs nose and push forward a frightened Husky pup. To keep them out, I lock the door. Somehow they enter, and I find myself sitting on a brick ledge, beside a black Saint Bernard and a German Shepherd. The scene changes. I'm driving a motor boat through a wetland forest. When another boat, driven by a gay man, chases after me, I speed up. Above the engines' roar, in this game of cat and mouse, I hear him laughing. Entering a residential area of homes and narrow winding channels, I accelerate, taking the turns fast, trying to slip away. In wide open, calm water, the chasing boat draws near. Instead of a man, the square gray head of a one eyed toy robot squirts water at me. We talk. I say, "I like girls." "You mean women," the robot corrected. I say, "Girls, women. I don't care." Waking, I say, "I don't care."

1ISA, 1MSA, 1FSA, 2ANI, 1ANI, 1MSA, 1ANI

AP 1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0454

2016-2017

2017-08-28

M

A

With a community of men and several women, I'm living in an old brick castle-like mansion. We're doing laundry, communally sorting and washing clothes. Somehow my wash is folded and placed neatly in my laundry bag. A man tells me about a medicine he has used that would benefit my urinary problems. I tell him the cause is and enlarged prostate gland. As we fold and stack light green towels, I have trouble folding; over and over I can't get it right. I begin tethering an American flag to a Russian flag. I ask a man what he thinks. He says it's not a good idea. Far down the hall, two men struggle with a gigantic American flag, which they hope to hang inside. Just then, the young woman in charge, who is attractive but heavy set, begins to weep and wail. I'm thinking, "If you lose fifty pounds you'll be prettier, and your health will improve." The first person to reach her, my impulse is to throttle her, but at the last moment I lay beside her, put my arms around her, talk comfortingly to her, kiss her partially exposed breast. She says a man tried to knife her. Is she talking about me? The scene changes. At night, on flat land, I stand outside the mansion. From out of the darkness a thin young woman, followed by her two children, and two greyhounds, walks by. The happy children are carefree; the dogs, friendly but shy. Diminutively, as she passes, the woman says, "Hello." I walk to a brick balustrade overlooking the street. A group of rowdies is approaching. Loudly, they half sing, half chant, a bawdy or militant song. So as not to be seen and likely attacked, I duck down, peering out from spaces between the brick work. Across the street, a young woman, colorfully dressed as a scarecrow, pets a large friendly cat. Seeking affection, the animal is almost human, tenderly pawing the woman, rising up, curling itself into her. As the rowdies pass by, there is nothing to fear. They are young male office workers, with short black hair, dressed in slacks and white shirts, chanting a protest song.

2MSA, 1MSA, 1FSA, 2MSA, 1FSA, 1ANI, 1FSA, 1FSA, 1ANI

SD 1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0455

2016-2017

2017-08-30

M

A

A man bearing a likeness to Donald Trump calls us to his large office building. He wants to somehow change it. No one agrees; we ignore him. A burly female cop, wearing a deep blue uniform, tried to boss me around. With ju-jitsu, I will throw her to the floor and pummel her.

1MSA, 1FOA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0456

2016-2017

2017-08-30

M

A

The sparse jungle offers little camouflage. Hiding here, the NVA will find me, will take me prisoner, march me down stony trails, causing my feet much pain.

2MOA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0457

2016-2017

2017-08-31

M

A

On a desolate farm, in a dirt lot, a very dark young Indian man, with intense, almost unmoving eyes, attempts to keep up with a frisky chestnut foal. As the energetic horse rears up, kicks, bucks, gambols, the Indian tries to mimic the animals unbounded frolic. The foal changes, becomes part kangaroo, its face, especially its emotive eyes, almost human. I imagine saying, "Talk to me. Talk." A few bees circle around us. Then a swarm of yellow jackets, their distinctive yellow and black abdominal bands clearly visible. While some people panic, I repeatedly swipe the air with large books or mats, which scatter the insects, and leave faint corkscrewing clouds in their wake. Close by, the moment a short older man and his wife depart from their 1950s house, something enters my ear. As if I'm underwater, my hearing becomes muted. The man asks if I'm OK. I tell him sort of, and shake my head to clear it, which helps to restore my hearing, though not quite all.

1MEA, 1ANI, 2ANI, 2JSA, 1MSA, 1FSA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0458

2016-2017

2017-09-01

M

A

At night, in a foreign land, I go from one restaurant to another, searching for someone. In each place, there are groups of men, exhausted, blank-eyed and bloodied, seated around a table. Above them, perched on a corner shelf, curled like a cat, a bludgeoned man near death. The men are cage fighters, fresh from the ring. As I walk past one such table, a man calls out, taunting me. His peers, like blood thirsty goons, join in. "Who are you? What do you want?" they growl and heckle. "I've seen you before." One man, with a shaved head, lean and muscular, younger than the rest, resembles the cage fighter Rory MacDonald. "Oh, bullshit," I say, in reply to his jeers. We begin circling each other. I out feint him, strike past his guard. Outdone, he hides his fear. I have none, but to win this fight, I must take nothing for granted, keep vigilant, on guard.

2MSA, 1MSA, 1MSA, 2MSA, 1MOA

AP 1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0459

2016-2017

2017-09-01

M

A

In a town like the town I lived in from 2001 to 2012. I meet a tall thin middle-aged cop who is tired, sleepy, and wants some place to rest. I know this man. He's a local cop. I tell him the library is close by; the staff will likely offer him an empty room. I lead the way, as we walk up and down the city's balmy streets. Again and again, I take the wrong turn. When the cop wonders where we are, I tell him the library has to be near. This happens several times. I'm thinking, "He must be frustrated; at any moment he'll complain." Yes, I tell him, they will let you lie down, but where is the library? I keep taking wrong turns.

1MOA, 2IOA

AN 1MKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0460

2016-2017

2017-09-03

M

A

At night, as people leave, I'm standing in a field, a pasture, part of a large dairy farm. I've said good-bye to Chris D, to other friends, tried to pet the exotic dog, part Dalmatian, part hound, with its tufted orange ears. For their presentation, the new farm team, the family who oversee the farm, quickly assemble a barrier constructed of flat wood. As people gather in front of it, I look about. In the once empty field, twenty or thirty cows stand twenty or thirty meters apart. To no one in particular I say, "Cows everywhere." Dressed in blue overalls, a stocky, muscular woman, the mother of the family, the boss of the farm, who resembles Lisa K, though her features are shiny and hard set, like molded plastic, begins to speak. In a dramatic voice, she describes a ferocious cow. As she continues, from behind the wood wall, a half dozen doll heads, impaled on sturdy wire, rise up, to the accompaniment of suspenseful music. The scene changes. I'm lying on a mattress with a much younger woman who resembles Lisa K. The farm family, though they wonder about our age difference, have provided this bed. In fact, there is nothing between us. As we lay beneath the warm blanket, the stars overhead, vividly, the girl recalls the man who seduced her, having seduced another woman moments before. After a time, losing interest in her complex story, I say, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

2JKA, 1MKA, 2JOA, 1ANI, 2JSA, 1FSA, 1FSA, 1FSA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0461

2016-2017

2017-09-04

M

A

I'm in an airplane flying high over the earth, which is veiled by a cirrus cloud sky. Something terrible has taken place. A body, as if seen from a distance, falls from the plane, and I know who it is. The pilot begins a mournful dirge. Two young people doggedly sail past, snow boarding the air. From far away, a long black scarf plummets to earth. In these moments, realizing that this is how the dream will end, I say, "That's the end of John."

1ISA, 1MOA, 2JSA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0462

2016-2017

2017-09-05

M

A

As an adult, I'm living at home with brother and mother and two new siblings, a boy and a girl. The problem is there are rats. I find one on the bed, another that has dug a hole in the dirt where my new brother and sister are at play. I charge into the small square kitchen, where my mother, who is black, and standing, smokes a cigarette. "Where is my white sweater?" I yell at her. She is flustered, angry, then quiets when I tell her, "We have rats. Not mice. Rats. The size of my fist rats!" She becomes tearful. "You take care of it. You're going to live here," she says. "No," I tell her. "I'm not going to live here. We have rats!"<span style="display:none;">[226]</span>

1FKA, 1MKA, 2ANI, 1ANI

AN 1MKA, SD 1FKA

vietnam_vet3

Vietnam Vet: 2016-17 dreams

0463

2016-2017

2017-09-05

M

A

I'm part of a bombing mission over India. As we approach the target, the mission changes. What's happening? Why? All at once, the bomb bay doors open, like bowling pins, the bombs drop. I see the earth engulfed in a bright orange cloud, but there is no noise, no expanding shock wave. The bomber lands. The bomb bay doors open. On the ground, I speak to an Indian man who asks if we'll be back. I tell him no. I tell him that HQ says the images are good, they have given us a new appreciation of India. Looking directly at this gaunt middle-aged man, I tell him, "I'm glad we met. I hope the war ends soon."

1MEA, 2MOA