ACCOZZAGLIA

perhaps last night was key to why my dreams were so all over the map overnight. the trouble is, i can’t recall a lot of them, but i know that i slept fitfully throughout. i went to bed with this nasty headache and feeling a serious sense of dread looming overhead. everything is so shaky at the moment, due in part, i’m sure, to it being December. nothing functions correctly in December. nobody cares to function with consistency in December. cosmically, it drains a lot of motivation and sends it down the river.

the last dream i remembered, though, hit below the beltline, in that it was like a big tease. i dreamt that i went to go visit ruralrob and emjaybaxter in their sleepy little village before joining up with a number of queer university students in Toronto (maybe starting in Scarborough?) who all were students at U of T. this was my first time i knew i was in Toronto while the dream sequence was in motion.

somehow, we all ended up in someone’s car (although, around this time, my original two hosts ended up somewhere else, i think) and parked in a pay lot just off Bloor St. at this point, i realised i had all of $8 to my name (which actually is the case, so for once, an accuracy within a dream. imagine that) and was wondering how i’d survive off that for the next three days (comprising the rest of the long weekend). then i thought to phone wohali and find where she was, but then i couldn’t find a phone to call her.

i recall wearing these beat up, old Chuck Taylor high-tops in aqua (i think, since i used to own a pair in aqua) that somebody had gone and switched the laces out with fussy, easily-knotted pastel yarn instead. meanwhile, the people with which i was going to this event (at an auditorium on the U of T campus, oddly enough) were standing about 10m away, all talking with each other, looking patient, but slightly annoyed that i was having so much trouble with lacing my shoes with this disintegrating yarn that wasn’t mine. i started to think, “yanno, these people who hardly know me probably think i’m slow like this because i was raised in the States. god, i hate this. i feel so inadequate.”

but then, as we got inside, it turned out this was some small art gallery showing, at which point, one of the people with whom i went inside saw someone from his high school days that apparently bullied on him back then. the bully then said to him, pointing at me, “so, you know your friend there is queer, right?” the bully turned to his wife and whispered into her ear about that, at which point, she turned to look at me. preempting this manoeuvre by him, i was right next to his wife when she turned around, thus putting her on the spot.

next thing i recall, though, was me being in this very apartment in Everett, even though it felt nothing like Everett. the shrubs outside were replete with ripe blueberries, and an AM radio was blaring in the room somewhere, broadcasting some news/weather/traffic programming from Minneapolis. by this time, i didn’t remotely know where i was, or why any of this was happening.

then i woke up. and although the headache is gone, i still feel as psychically drained as i did last night.