[i]
☼ ○ ▬
A colossal tidal wave is rushing through the city. I can see it in the distance. In slow motion I manage to dash across the road and jump atop a building just in time before the water rushes by. I’m safe up here. I discover other survivors. It’s understood that gangs will be formed in the aftermath. I come up with our gang’s name: The River Saints. With a dull permanent red marker I draw the name on a piece of cardboard.
Me: “What do you guys think?”
All of a sudden the level of the water in the streets recedes and there’s no need for this apocalyptic mood. We can go back to our normal lives.
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I’m driving, on the job delivering for China Wok. I make a wrong turn into a side street off First Colonial Road. It’s not very well lit and there isn’t much turning space. In the meantime I disturb a pit bull, which starts barking incessantly at me. Throughout this dream sequence I shift between driving my car and being on foot, depending on the scenario. It’s almost like my car is simply an extension of my being. A young black girl walks by with an attitude and says something about her brother being a threat to me. I tamper with any sexual tensions between us and move her in closer, my hands fondling her lower backside. She’s responsive in certain moments but after a while she runs into the house. I’m afraid her brother will come out so I scram out of there. Unfortunately, the pit bull’s chain came loose and he’s chasing me down the street. At some point on Virginia Beach Blvd I just grab the chain and pretend he’s my dog for a while but the leash isn’t strong enough to hold so the dog runs away. I catch up to find a car hit the dog. He’s dead now. I’m in shock. But I keep driving. Word spreads to the brother and all of a sudden the whole city is looking for me and by the whole city I mean the street hoodlums. But nobody saw my face except for the sister so I use the lack of description in my favor. Discreetly I continue west down the boulevard. It’s a scary feeling because at any moment one of those agro brothers could spot me and I’d be doomed. Eventually, the road transforms into an assembly of blue gym mats. I join the crowd in crawling up the slope. Most everyone has a facial description in their hands of what I look like. I guess it’s not just the hoodlums looking for me anymore. I slip by a police officer. He recognizes my face and grabs my arm.
He speaks into the radio on his shoulder, “I found suspect number one. Need backup.”
I don’t fight back. He starts asking me questions.
I fear some of the black brothers might catch wind to this so I insist, “Can we please talk about this in private?”
He takes me inside an old restaurant where we struggle to find a private place. Friends of “the brother” spot me behind a glass door and attempt to come in. I turn the lock. They bang on the door in frustration. The cop and I run in and out of doors inside this compact hallway. I lead us into a crawlspace closet and up an overbuilt staircase with not much breathing room, a claustrophobic person’s hell. Only skinny frames can fit in here. The officer shines his flashlight to guide the way. As I make it to the top I discover it’s a dead end. I thought there was a door to the outside right here.
“Shit! We have to go back.”
At this point I give up and force myself awake.
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Waking up around 1:30 p.m.
Blueberry Bagel with Non-Dairy Cream Cheese. Orange Juice.
Meeting with Danny and Anthony about the movie we’ll be shooting this summer.
...
Then, almost immediately, skyping with Aysena.
Downstairs the boys are rehearsing Pinball Locomotive songs. I join them on the last leg of the rehearsal.
Afterwards, Kevin and I get into a conversation with one of our neighbors, Ben. He’s a friendly 26-year old black guy sporting an Atlanta ball cap and sipping on Olde English out of a glass. He’s originally from Philly but just escaped from his ex-girlfriend in Florida and has been living in Chanticleer for the past few weeks. He seems like a smart guy with an acute awareness of the real things happening in the world. Our topics range from the military culture in Virginia Beach to gun control.
Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Lemon Water.
Shooting hoops and running a few miles near Lynnhaven Middle School. It’s a foggy and misty night.
Back at the house. Richie, Mike Fry, and Kevin are in the living room drinking and watching the second Ninja Turtles movie. Cards zip through the air – cards all over the house.
With James and Minnie in the dining room eating dinner: Black Beans with Onions, Red Peppers, String Beans, and a Spring Roll.
Delighting in Alenka Chocolates and Milk while I put together an homage collage to Alenka using the foil wrappers. Darren spouts out nonsensical questions and rants to James and I.
Sleep at 5 a.m.
[i] Alenka Chocolate Wrappers. Mixed Media Collage by me.
