I am being shown a series of books written by pilgrims that include photos of them engaged in group sex. The man showing them to me keeps them in an archive and claims they are too profound to be seen by the public. He offers to take me to lunch. On the way to lunch I fall and he runs to help me, lifts me up and holds me close and I can feel he has a hard on. When the embrace ends I see he is a priest and instead of lunch he takes me to mass. At mass, instead of hosts and wine for communion, mini fruit cups and mini martinis are passed around. The kid seated next to me in the pew is trying to lose weight and is picking the olives out of everything. Spaghetti, which seems to be wiggling, is coming out from under my coat and I am collecting it in a jar. Another parishioner sees the wiggling spaghetti in the jar, even though I am trying to conceal it, and begins to point at me. I try harder to cover the jar when I notice that one strand of spaghetti has gotten away and is crawling away towards the statues of the saints. I look up at the white man who I came with and he is now black and on the alter assisting in mass. He keeps giving me the eye letting me know he is about to give up the priesthood for me.
Extraction: Anytime I am dreaming of pilgrims and literature, it's just a wet dream about JHC. Sometimes I miss the rituals involved in Catholicism. This dream comes almost a year after JHC has died. I have a few dreams about him before I learn of his death. JHC can trace his lineage back to the Mayflower which was filled with a bunch of freaked out religious fanatics so I think the pilgrim priest connection makes sense.
I am a passenger in a truck with Andi Lotti driving the truck. We are trying to find a parking space in front of 3758 10th Avenue in NY. As we approach we see spots but she can't figure out how the get in the left lane. We go around the block again, and again the same thing happens. Each time we circle around the block I become more and more enraged until I say: that's it, I'm going to get bagels. I get out of the truck and go to a beautiful grocery story where they have everything you could want. As I am on my way to the bagels I hear music and turn to see a bagpipe band going up an aisle playing pop music. They look happy. I find the bagels and they are not regular bagels. They are in the shape of animals and have odd flavours. One is basil horehound and another is shaped like a turtle but the underside is make to look like it is mechanical. A sliced piece of onion resembling a spring…
Extraction: I have wondered about the whereabouts of Andi Lotti for years. Is she OK? Did she make it through the holocaust of her own life? I dream about her often and it always involves cars of some sort. When we knew one another we weren't old enough to drive yet so I am unsure of the significance of that. The specific address is the building I was born into as a child. When we were wee I tried to bring her home to where I was living in SF but she didn't fit in and was asked to leave. I never saw her again after that.
I love bagels but not a decent one can be found here (Merida). A basil horehound flavoured bagel is a nod to my mother who when asking me if I wanted candy would always buy a sack of horehound knowing I wouldn't go near it. So a horehound flavoured bagel is like: Yeah right!
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