Dream

Posted on March 22, 2009 in Dreams

I’m wearing my pajamas in the middle of Highland Avenue in San Bernardino, California. It’s six lanes wide. There’s traffic coming on and I’m waving my arms at it as I try to cross. As I make it to the last lane, a driver pulls over and chides me. When he drives away in his white Camaro, I see that he is from Georgia. I am trying to get home, it seems. I slip into a drainage canal next to Del Rosa ((It’s not this way in real life. The canal is about a block east.)) where I meet homeless people walking down the canal, going to fetch their medications. “What’s your diagnosis?” I ask a smallish Latino and he says “Bipolar”. “That’s me, too!” I say. A friend of his says they have to get going, so I continue ascending the ditch, looking for a gap in the chain link fence they have erected to keep people from going into my neighborhood. I get to the end of it and cross near a liquor store, then walk over a field that leads to Golden Avenue near my home.

My mother has a pair of African American attendants come to visit me every day. They check my blood pressure. I am in a deep depression, laying on the floor beneath my bed. My father comes, gives me a lecture about laziness, and kicks me with his shoes in the head. I watch a game show in the other room. A little girl has got the answer right. My father appears from under a chair to give her a hug. I try to figure out how he appeared there, then I realize that he must have a room where he was hiding. I know where this room is and I know that it is forbidden to me. When the attendants come, I tell them about him kicking me. I hope that they will take me to the hospital. They take my blood pressure. My arm has turned the color of the darker of the two nurses. They say that I need to drink more water because my lithium levels are getting too high.