Migraine Madness

Firstly, I was in the middle East, dancing back and forth across the green line, developing a taste for Palestinian pastries and eggs.  I wanted so badly to bring them back in to Israel so that I could consume them in my own kitchen, but an embargo was being "tied down tighter every day," I was told by a soldier clutching a machine gun to his chest.  I gave the eggs away, and contemplated eating all of the pastries right then and there before passing through the checkpoint, but instead placed them in a small canal of sorts and watched them float away.  Children gathered on either side and tried to pluck them out of the water.  The place was very colorful, very cramped.

In a second dream, Basho had a bar/restaurant, either to his name or simply for celebrating something like a birthday.  I was among the first of many people to show up.  He was so confident and happy.  He'd learned some strange tricks and was excited to demonstrate them.  I cannot remember much of this one, but I believe I was shirking a responsibility and had to get back to it quickly.

Somewhere in this mess, my old roommate Nate had moved in with Ian and I.  He had brought with him (irony of ironies) some really nice wall-art.  I was happy to have him, and very happy about the new decorations.  I took a walk at one point to meet my sister at the Timberhill shopping center, a place I haven't spent any time since I was much younger.  There was a class going on, perhaps a pottery class, in one of the "stores."  There were art displays not unlike Bumbershoot's.  I participated for a while, but mostly sat at a small table outside, waiting along the walkway for my sister, smoking a cigarette very slowly.  I met with her briefly, and I believe I met with Basho briefly, and then I believe I was at home again briefly, but who knows.  This dream ended with me flipping through some paintings that either Nate or Basho had, and coming upon one of a woman in a vibrant blue dress so intensely beautiful and richly colorful and intoxicating in design that I actually woke up from the strength of the emotion, just as someone wakes up in terror.  I woke up from the overwhelming, all-consuming beauty.

And I still had a migraine.  It was a couple hours before I managed to fall back to sleep.

Finally, I found myself to be visibly pregnant and with a group of other people out near the arboretum. Some kind of event was happening there, but I was anxious to get home, or at least closer to home, as it sunk it that riding my bike that far might be even more cumbersome at 6 or 7 months pregnant.  I only stopped briefly along the side of the highway, but my rest was interrupted by a couple of old college teachers who's classes I surely flunked, who wanted to engage me in an awkward dialogue.  I climbed back on my bike and didn't stop until I reached the town's "business park" or "banking castle" or lord knows what, located right at the tip of the peninsula between 9th and the highway where the old buildings caught on fire a few years ago.  It was a gorgeous tower-of-Babel type structure, a multi-tiered work-place for wealthy suits combined with a terraced public park reminiscent of of Incan ruins.  At one of the main entrances to the park, I encountered three other pregnant woman, only one of whom I know in real life.  I spoke with them for a while, about what I can't recall, and had vacillating feelings of belonging (I am finally getting to play this mother game, too) and alienation (I am not actually, pregnant, am I?  That can't be possible).  I finally wandered away from them, having not entirely rejected the idea of being pregnant, and began taking photographs.