THESE AWFUL DREAMS

THESE AWFUL DREAMS

Any minutes he is going to stick that needle in her and in her and in her
There is like a class room here and lots of shadowy figures are sitting on little chairs
Are these adults?
Or children?
Thats not very clear

Lots of people lurking around in the corners of the room
Its a big dark room
Is it a class room?
There is a heavy set woman sitting in the middle of the room
She seems like the principal
So that must be the class room if there is a principal sitting there

We are not sure though
If its a class room why are there big men lurking around on the sides?
Its more like a place with secrets and eavesdroppers
Its like the queen sitting in the center and her councilors listening
without the queen knowing that they are listening
Like in the staging of the ,"Wolf Hall."  The drama about the Tudor kings
Where some one is always whispering and some one is always listening

But this room didn't seem like a palace
It was an ordinary, shabby, plain looking room
With not much in it
Some scattered chairs with the some ordinary people of no significance sitting
In the darkness with a little light coming through the window
And the noise outside
The noise of construction
Lots of construction going on
Banging and banging and building and building

Some body just stabbed somebody
I knew some of those men hiding
Or not hiding
Pretty visible to the onlooker
But not to the people sitting on those chairs
Or to the principal
If she was a principal at all

Some one got shot
No noise of the shooting
Just the blood
Blood spilling and spilling fast
All red stuff flowing over the chairs
Under the chairs
Maybe more than two people got shot
Maybe all of them got shot
There is so much blood on the floor

There is so much maybe…
In this dream
Seems like real life
At least my life
In my life there is only maybe
Maybe this?
Maybe that?
Yes, its my life folding in the dream
But its not my dream
I am just watching some one else's dream
I am always the observer of the dream
Thats a nice role to be in
"Observer."

I love some words
And, "Observer.' is one of them
Like the camera
Always observing
Never involved
Only observing
Un-attached to any thing
Any feelings
No emotional attachment
No suffering
Just watching
Just observing
Without any judgement
Without any opinions

"Oh! how nice."
'How nice a role to have."
"I want to just observe everything and every one"
"i don't want to participate."
"I am not so very good as a participant"
I want to be only an observer.
Like that news paper in London
'Observer."
I used to love that paper when I lived in London.
It would come out on weekends
It was pretty heavy
I WOULD BUY IT AND CARRY IT IN MY POCKETBOOK
ALL WEEK
AND THROUGHLY ENJOYED READING IT

Now the quality of paper is gone down
Just like their sister paper
The Guardian
The guardian has become a terrible paper
Headline is always about America
As if they have nothing to report about their own people
As if nothing is ever happening in their own country
No shootings, no fires, no rape, no kidnappings
Just the American news
Always
What's the point of paying for the foreign paper?
If the same news one can read in the NY POST

THATS WHY ONE PAY MORE MONEY
TO SEE SOMETHING DIFFERENT
SOMETHING UN-FAMILIAR
MORE DRAMATIC

But now they are all the same
How many times one can read about something which one has already watched on tv last night?
And then read it in all the lousy American Daily News and the NYT etc etc
You want a different point of view
Different opinions
Different analysis

But no, Now the Guardian kiss ass
American ass
So does the Observer
Now they have the lousiest possible writers, racists and all writing for the London Guardian
Can you Imagine that?London Guardian and awful American writer writing and telling us her lousy
prejudiced, obvious white trash opinions….

London Observer used to cost $ 5 in those days
And those dollars I would love to spend so very happily
Now, you are going to pay may be $ 10 if you don't want to read on the lousy internet
and then read a review written about Shakespeare by that Illiterate, no good, mediocre
,(To say the least) so called writer?

Please what has happened to the world?
There is nothing exciting in it any more
People have become zombies
Coming at you as the army, straight at your chest with their
Eyes glued to their smart phones
'Hey, buddy, its my breast you are going to smash into, if you don't fucking watch
Where you are going."
"Its my tits you are going to be banging into with your chest."
Take your fucking eyes off your phone and see my tits so you can avoid them, you bastard."
"tits are very sensitive."
Men don't know that because they don't have tits
So they are always hurting us by squeezing them or smashing them in the streets.

News papers have become trash
Trash, trash, trash….
London papers have lost all their integrity
Like their leaders
All kiss ass people
I said that before
I will say it again
And why not?
Who is paying me?
Who is the editor?
Where is the publication who is going to publish my words?
I will write what I want
I will write the same word again and and again if I want


They say, "Don't use the same word twice in the same sentence."
The writing teachers say that
The ones who are teaching you
The ones who never went to college
The ones who have no degree
But they are teaching, "Writing."
How come?
Because they got some book published
And now they are published writers
And now they can teach in a college and university so they can take your
Money, you who went to college and went to university
but some how don't have a book published
By kissing some one's ass or by some fucking contact
Or by having sex with some one, "Important enough." to have your book published
And now you are teaching writing and telling us that we can't use the same word
Twice in the same sentence
Its, "Redundant."  They say
Yeah, right?
You are redundant, you are
Got your book published without having an ounce of a talent and without going to college
And without getting those fucking loans and without paying those loans back and now teaching,
"Writing."
"Go teach writing, I am not taking your class and I will use the same word twice,
Three times, four times, twenty times if I want and I will repeat myself a hundred times
If I want and I do, I repeat myself and I love it and you can go to hell for that matter
And call me not a writer at all as if I care about you or your opinions any more…..

'Who are you to tell me what to write and how to write?  What authority do you have over me?  Do you pay me for my writing?
Do you publish my writing?
Do you help me write?
Do you pay my bills?"
"NO." None of that, none of that
BUT YOU CAN ALWAYS OPEN YOUR BIG FUCKING MOUTH AND SAY OUT LOUD, "SHE IS NOT A GOOD WRITER.  SHE LOVES REPETITION.
'"SHE CAN'T WRITE.  SHE IS NOT A WRITER AT ALL."

"AND WHO ARE YOU?"
'WHO ARE YOU TO ME?"
OH1 YOU ARE A ISS TEACHER WITH NO EDUCATION."
"OH! I SEE, YOU HAVE THE RIGHT CONNECTIONS."
"GO YO HELL."

I WILL WRITE WHAT i WANT.  i LOVE TO REPEAT MYSELF AND ALL OF YOU WHO DON'T LIKE IT, YOU KNOW WHERE YOU CAN GO?  "THERE IS SOMETHING
AVAILABLE AND ITS CALL,"HELL."  "HELL." "HELL.:

And where was I?
I lost trac
Thats what happens in a stream of conscious kind of rambling
Here is another word I like,
"RAMBLING."  RAMBLER.:
And who wrote some thing called, "RAMBLER.?"
You don't know?
Ha, ha, ha, ha
You are a miss writing teacher and you don't know who wrote, "RAMBLER."

Let the bad writer with repetitions tell you who wrote, "RAMBLER."
It was Dr, Samuel Johnson
"Who":
"I knew it."
'if you don't know who Samuel Johnson is and you teach writing
Do us a favor, commit suicide right on that campus who hired you.
"I so and so herby declare that I don't have a clue who Dr, Samuel Johnson was and I teach English
and writing in English so I for the sake of the  integrity of language commit suicide on such and such place on such and such day."

Now I really lost the dream and got into the bullshit of eery day life and ordinary people in it
who are getting ahead right and left without any knowledge of anything or without any talent
thats why I SLEEP SO MUCH AND WAIT FOR THE DREAMS TO COME BECAUSE SOME OF MY DREAMS SEEMS MORE PLEASANT THAN THE WORLD I LIVE IN.

But are they pleasant?
My dreams I mean
The dreams have blood in it and knives and axes and snakes
How pleasant is that?
But then when you wake up all the snakes disappear
And then you go out in the streets or a cafe or a theater
or a park or a restaurant
or read a news paper and it seems that the snakes
of the dreams were fake and these very snakes you are dealing with are so real
So which one is my dream and which one is my nightmare and which one is my reality?
Is my  reality nicer than my dream?
Or is my dream is nicer than my reality?

I am asking this question all my life
And I am still asking
Asking in the third world
And asking in the first world
And now the third world and the first world both seem the same
SO DOES THE DAY AND THE NIGHT
SO DOES THE DREAM AND REALITY…

So what happened in the dream?
Did the principal get shot also?
Did you service/
I survived in the dream
I was the camera
I just watched
I just observed.
When you keep your mouth shut and absorb all the insults quietly
than you can become Thomas Cromwell and achieve beyond all odds

'Who is Thomas Cromwell?"
"Oh! gee, the The un-educated, Ignorant English teacher without a degree
teaching English and writing at Columbia and Yale and Princeton again….

"Don't send your children to all those expansive schools and pay through your teeth
Just let them read, The English dictionary written by Dr, Samuel Johnson………….

"Who?  Samuel Johnson who?"
"Oh! please.  I am surrounded by so much ignorance, I can't go on, I can't go on, I can't go on"
'I want to sleep.

Then I was in the same room
There was no blood
No one was shot
Everything was very quiet
There was another person sitting near me
I could only see her back
But I knew who she was
I wanted to get her attention
So we could go to a cafe
And read something to her in the cafe
Some thing written long time ago by some one very clever
I wanted to get out of this class room
I think it was a class room
And we were all students
And I wanted to get out of the room with this other person
Who I seemed like
She must be my friend
But I DON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS IN MY REAL LIFE
SO THIS MUST BE A DREAM
BECAUSE I FELT THAT SHE WAS MY FRIEND
AND I ONLY WANTED TO READ TO A FRIEND
READ SOMETHING I THOUGHT WAS SPECIAL

I wet to a book store
called, 'Strand."
I think that was the name
And I went to the section where they have old books, classics
And I found a beautiful book by an author I like
And I wanted to buy it
But It was expansive
And I didn't have any money
Neither a credit card
I think they do take American Express.
Yes, they do
The strand book store is in America and they do take American Express in America
Only in Europe in some places they don't take American Express
But I think the strand book store is here in America
I am not so sure though because in your dreams you are never so sure
So I found this book and I really wanted to buy it and I couldn't
So I put it back thinking that I will come back in a day or two and buy it
I was so excited.  I remember it was a small book
Not so small but not so huge either
It was a hard ever which I  like
And the cover was just plain blue
Deep blue
And it was $20
So I put it back and left
But I remembered exactly where the book shelf was and in which section of the shelf I PUT THE BOOK BACK IN….

So I went back in a day or two and went right to the section and to the same exact shelf
and I looked exactly where the book was before…..
But I couldn't find it…
"Maybe its sold."
I said to myself
I was so disappointed because I love that writer and I wanted to have that book and read it in a cafe
The cafe and the book, oh! what a nice dream……..
But the book wasn't there……….
"Its sold."
I hated my self
I never have money when I need it.
THe bottom line is that I never have money but I don't usually need it
You won't believe it but I don't need money
I am not obsessed by money
I am obsessed by other things
Things which I can't solve
Things which I CAN'T HAVE ANY ANSWERS FOR
Things which sadden me
Things of the past

But I am not obsessed by money
The word, "Money." doesn't seem like my favorite word.
The word, "Money"
Seems dirty
Its a dirty word
A dangerous word
People kill for money
People go to prison for money
People go to war for money

All these things frighten me
I don't need more frightening things
My dreams are enough
My day life is enough
Frightening I mean
When I want to be less frightened
 I IMAGINE  different words
Words such as, "PERFUMES,'
"LONG NARROW PATHS LADEN WITH TREES AND FLOWERS ON BOTH SIDES."
"READ'
"PAST'
"MEMORY"
"CHOICES"
"KING LEAR'
"DEMISE'
"PROMISE'
'WORD"

No, not the word money.
But some times I need it and then I don't have it
And despondence sets in………..

So I felt very despondent and disappointed at that moment
When I couldn't find the book but I had the money to buy it

I decided to go to the information desk.

The guy at the desk was busy.
Sounds familiar to you/
The word, "busy."
He was busy
I waited
Now he was not busy
I was still waiting.

"Can you please help me?"
"Yeah, what do you want?"
"You see, i saw a book…"
"Which book?"
he interrupted me
Usual
Americans always interrupt
Like Charlie Rose
He invites guests and the talk more than the guest and interrupts them constantly
He usually invites British Guests because he is so affected and then interrupts them constantly
and they stop talking because they are British and are supposed to be more polite
so whenever they are at a point to reveal something important he interrupts them and they usually lose their thought and we the viewers don't ind out what they were going to tell us……
Tavis Smilley is a better host than Charlie Rose though he is also American but he doesn't interrupts,
He let his guest finish the sentence
I don't know why he is different since he is also American and Americans do not have the power or the concentration or manners to listen to some one else….But Tavis Smiley does.  He listen.  Maybe because he is black and has more manners.  White hosts are more self occupied.  Very Important they are.  The white talk show hosts…………

So the guy at the information desk at Strand bok store had no patience for me at least…
"which book?"
He said
"The blue book…" I said
"What?"
He won't let me finish my sentence
"The blue small book….in hard cover….by…
"We don't have any blue small book in this shelf."
"I saw it a few dates ago.  Its a small blue book in hard cover by Dr, Samuel Johnson……….
"we don't have any book by Samuel Johnson here, they are in the basement."
"I found a small blue book by Samuel Johnson, it was priced $20, it was like 130 pages….
'Samuel books are downstairs in the basement miss and they are in three volumes and the price is $100"
He said

"No, I saw a small blue book by Dr, Samuel Johnson, it was called RASSALAS AND IT WAS FOR $20…..
"You are mistaken.'
He said
"you see I do have a problem with my memory and the problem is that memory is too good.  So you see I am not mistaken."
"I have never heard of that book, so Samuel Johnson must not have written it."
He was so full of himself because he was white and American and at the information desk without much information as usual
"BUt I saw the book right here in this shelf and I know Dr, Samuel Johnson wrote it and he wrote it in one week because he had no money and his mother was sick so he wrote it in a hurry to make some money and pay for his mother's sickness but the mother died before he got the money, it was 3oo English pounds and he spend that money on her funeral."
I said
"I don't have all day for you miss, I have other customers waiting…next.?"
I left…
Cursing myself for not having money on that particular day when I discovered the book…"Don't be so sad."  I tried to console myself.  "You have so many books at home, go home pick another book, go to the cafe and read it."
'No, I want to read that particular book which I couldn't buy that day when I didn't have the fucking money."

So I do use the word, 'Money"  sometimes but its not my favorite word…..

SO IN MY DREAM, IN THAT PARTICULAR CLASS ROOM WHERE THIS OTHER GIRL WAS SITTING WHO SEEMED LIKE MY FRIEND AND I WANTED TO READ THAT BOOK CALLED, RASSALAS BY SAMUEL JOHNSON TO HER IN A CFAE………….
BUT I REALIZED THAT I DIDN'T HAVE THAT BOOK BECAUSE I COULDN'T BUY IT THE DAY I SAW IT SO I HAD NOTHING TO READ TO MY ONLY FRIEND IN A CAFE………..
THE ONLY BOOK I WANTED TO READ TO HER I DIDN'T HAVE……………
WHATEVER I DESIRE DEEPLY I DON'T GET…………
MAYBE IS HAOULD STOP DESIRING…………..
BUT I LOVE THE WORD, "DESIRE"…………………….