Lucid

And for the past few days I've been working on the Lucid Dreaming.
When I remember, perhaps 20 or 30 times per day, I look about and ask myself if I'm awake or if I'm dreaming.

I know the answer, of course, but it's the exercise, and sometimes, depending on the conversation, it can be hard to tell. If I'm talking to the Nephew or G or Z or sometimes M or the Owner I find myself tapping my wrist, "Awake or Asleep?", just to be sure. An extra anchor.

Somehow I've *mostly(?) managed to banish restaurant dreams from my sleep, that's good, I hate restaurant dreams, there's no one in the world who hates their job more than I. A variety of dreams, most forgotten, I take the forgetting of them to mean they weren't of the caliber to be remembered, the forgetting is the natural selection, the evolution of dreams.

This is not necessarily true. The forgetting is merely the slow awakening, the ill-jotted down notes or mislaid pen, the lack of immediate (and apparent) sense to the dream, the uncomfortably personal nature of it.

But no - or few - restaurant dreams, that's good. Although the characters from the restaurant show up, and that isn't good, but it's a reminder of how narrow my world is there. The Lucidity will come, with practice, or variations in technique, it's good enough (as far as I can remember) to be somewhat rid of the restaurant those 8 hours a day I'm not there.

Details

Category: Dreams

Created: 14 February 2012

New Salad Girl

A new salad girl started last week, appeared on a Friday night, pale, looking a bit plump in her chef's uniform, unremarkable in every way. By Saturday night she had disappeared, gone the way (I supposed) of so many others.

Tonight, the night before Valentines, she shows up with her boyfriend for dinner.

Blonde, fit, she gives me a quizzical look: "You don't recognize me". And I'm for a moment terrified. She saves me: "I started last week...." and I breathe a sigh of relief, her name, memorable only because it was a slight variation on a common name with heavily pretentious overtones.

The boys, the boss, all pass by the table and chat with them. And by the end of the night the Nephew has persuaded them to join us at the local dire pub for drinks.

I meet up with them.

I talk to the boyfriend, polite enough, he manages another infamous Italian restaurant in the city. Light conversation, pleasantries, they pay and leave.

No sooner than they have left the table then the nephew begins: 'The boyfriend, he's a nice guy....' And I nod my acknowledgement. He continues, louder:

"...but i want to fuck the hell out of his girlfriend..."

I laugh and shake my head, looking down, looking up I spot the boyfriend perhaps 10 feet away, he's waiting for his girlfriend to finish up in the washroom. I'm not sure if he heard, but he's not catching my eye. I'm guilty by acquaintance in the worst of possible ways.

I tell the nephew, at first he's concerned, when they've left he asks me if I think they've heard, doesn't wait for an answer....

"...I want to fuck her so bad, but not to worry, I have a plan. I'm not very smart with work, but I'm pretty smart with this..." 

Details

Category: People

Created: 14 February 2012

The Healthy Smoker

I fancy myself a "Healthy Smoker". By which I mean, while I smoke it's not excessive, not a heavy smoker by any means, and I do all sorts of ridiculous and unrelated things to compensate.

I take vitamins. I drink diet coke. I drink all sorts of fruit juices with world renowned anti-oxidant properties, it says so right on the label. I think an awful lot about physical fitness. If I get a chance I go for Indian Buffet, the Turmeric in the curries is reputed to be a powerful anti-carcinogen. I take Omega 3-6-9 capsules twice a day. 

I work a job that keeps me on my feet. Never mind that my diet, 5 or 6 days a week, consists of pasta with tomato (or tomato based) sauce, I'm moving, I'm on my feet, that's far, far better than any desk job. (if you're reading this and know of a job opening, give me a desk job and a salad, please....). I sleep regularly, once a day even. I think about Yoga and Breathing exercises for moments on end, and on those painful hangover days I even think of quitting smoking. Because it's never the liquor, it's always the cigarettes. I eat light, because eating lightly is supposed to be good for you. I have the figure to prove it.

I'm a healthy smoker.

Details

Category: Miscellany

Created: 14 February 2012

Hans the Photographer

I've parked in front of Hans's house, between two cars, the street is so narrow that he won't be able to leave but I'm thinking he's at work...

And I haven't even crossed the street when I find that he's had to open the doors to my car and crawl through the passenger and then drivers seat to get out of his house. He doesn't seem too annoyed and I apologize....

It's early evening, and the moon is surrounded by a couple of bamboo hoops, on fire, burning, strange optic phenomena of some sort, I go back home and grab a camera, return to take photos, the local playground is on fire, I'm snapping pictures, there's an eerie, unearthly beauty to it...

At home Hans has let himself into the house (old, European style house, old walls, memories), he's telling me that I can order my prints from him, have them mounted for $25.00 each, I tell him they're digital, but it doesn't matter...

Details

Category: Dreams

Created: 09 February 2012