ads without products

dream 1 – parking lot 11201

with 4 comments

Just to test the limits of my new, no limits blogging, a dream from last night…

Running late, as usual, getting home after a night of drinking. For some reason I get stuck, I stop, at a vacant lot, a parking lot, on the north side of Atlantic Avenue. There is of course no parking lot on Atlantic Avenue, but this one is directly across the street from that Shell Station. This one, only at night….

I have my bag that I always carry there with me: books and magazines and notebooks, and my eee and its plug. Perhaps I am giving up. It is too late to go home; I have blown it, and not for the first time.

Just then a “madwoman” – overlayered as the homeless are during the New York winter – and swinging about broom or a rake with neither intent nor reluctance to injure slowly makes her way up the sidewalk and into the lot where I am standing. She thinks that I’ve done her wrong; whatever she is angry about it is my fault. But it is easy enough to disregard the charge. Clearly she disturbed, and moving under the guidance of something other than reason.

She moves past me and down the block, past a few buildings, to yet another vacant space, another parking lot. In this one, however, is the little shed where the attendant sits, the person in charge of both this lot and the mine.

I get there, to the other lot, just after the menacing woman has left. There’s a young woman in the little shed, in her early twenties, neither particularly attractive nor particularly unattractive. She is frightened, but not too frightened. This sort of thing must happen all the time to her, working nights at a place like this. I offer to walk her to the train, just to be sure – the F stop at York Street. It doesn’t make sense – York Street is two stops away, Bergen Street is basically right around the corner. But she reluctantly agrees.

I realize I’ve left my bag back in the other lot, so I decide to head back to retrieve it. I further decide to take a weapon with me, just in case. The only thing available is one of those branch cutters – long handles, tiny scissoring head. I can’t figure out how I’d use it as a weapon – you certainly wouldn’t try to snip somebody with it, and if you swung it by a single handle that wouldn’t work either. Obviously the answer is to hold the two handles, one in each hand, and swing it like that, but it doesn’t occur to me in the course of the dream. I take the cutter anyway.

I know before I get back to my lot that everything will be gone. The eee, probably my notebooks, the memory stick. My phone is still in my pocket. But when I get there, a man is just leaving – sheepishly, only half-stealthily – with a book in his hand. It’s Keynes’s General Theory of Employment, Money, and Interest…. except that’s not what it’s called in this dream, it’s simply called Theory of Unemployment. When I yell at him he turns, walks back to my bag, drops the book in, and then disappears and then I am woken up.

Elements of dream that recurred from the waking day that preceded it: I was a bit late getting home. I wrote a post on Brooklyn in which I mentioned Atlantic Avenue.  I worried about the fact that there is a hole in the bottom of the bag that I carry, and that old keys that I don’t need anymore were threatening to fall out. I mentioned to someone that someone else really doesn’t understand Keynes’s General Theory.

Elements of the dream that have appeared in previous posts: Aside of course from Brooklyn, the tool.

Other contextually significant elements: I visited that Shell station repeatedly when my car developed a mysterious “power drain” issue – leading to battery failure at inopportune times, such as in the JFK airport parking lot after a 24 hour long flight back from Beijing or in the middle of an intersection on Clinton Street. My first daughter was born in the brown brick building visible to the right of the gas station – that’s Long Island College Hospital. My good friends may well be in that hospital tonight, delivering their second child.

Strange matters for report: I never would have walked drunkenly from Cobble Hill to Brooklyn Heights by myself. Quite the opposite. Generally when I came home worse for wear, I would have taken the 2/3 to Borough Hall and then walked down Court Street from Brooklyn Heights to Cobble Hill. When I did live in Brooklyn Heights, I never drank in Cobble Hill / Carrol Gardens. Strange that I was headed in the other direction, against the stream of personal history as it were.

Written by adswithoutproducts

May 8, 2009 at 9:42 pm

4 Responses

Subscribe to comments with RSS.

  1. “It’s Keynes’s General Theory of Employment, Money, and Interest…. except that’s not what it’s called in this dream, it’s simply called Theory of Unemployment.”

    This, is great.


    May 9, 2009 at 8:57 pm

  2. It’s true! I actually googled it the wrong way, the dream way, when checking for the full title!


    May 9, 2009 at 10:26 pm

  3. Funny that. Last time I went by there the ShelI station was under construction/renovation and it looks very much like an empty lot. Meanwhile, the other night I myself had a dream that I was over at your flat to pick up a piece of writing you wanted to show me. Fiction, it was. Very early in the morning and I made a wrong turn into a bathroom where your wife was showering– it was very steamy– and embarrassed as hell I found the door right away into the living room where you were amidst towers of paper and books and alphabet blocks and we navigated the maze of your domestic life without knocking anything down and went out into your garden to drink coffee, but it was actually my old garden on 12th St with voluminous forsythia bushes, which are in bloom right now in Brooklyn, and we drank coffee and chatted about some Barthes thing about internet writing that was going to be live online only, but then I realized that I’d forgotten to shave and I needed to shave because I had to do an interview that morning so I had to rush (in reality I received an email from HR in my inbox that morning informing that the applicant had accepted another offer so I shaved for nothing), but before I left you said Here take this too– you had inherited too many– and you tucked one of DFW’s dog’s puppies into my bag.


    May 13, 2009 at 8:50 am

  4. Typos,

    Amazing! Would that we could do that! I mean, my wife might be a little upset if it went just that way. I had forsythia in my garden too btw, so it’s not inaccurate, for all its compositeness, your garden!

    And you know, I think I might have seen a picture on flickr when I was illustrating this post that suggests that the gas station has gone from Shell to BP. Go figure…


    May 13, 2009 at 10:34 am

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: