I was trying earlier to describe my relationship to my subconscious mind, and I was overextending a metaphor about ships being piloted through narrow passageways full of zombies and sharp rocks. Then it hit me: my subconscious is like a Magic 8-Ball. It’s got a kind of Tardis thing going on so that the inside of the ball is infinite. Things swim up from the mysterious depths and press their faces to the window. Sometimes if I don’t pay attention to them they start tapping on the glass. Then if I really don’t pay attention to them they start throwing pebbles.
These things are sometimes pretty straightforward, like fragments of memory or story ideas. Other times they are more inexplicable, and I ask the ball, “what do you mean by that?” and shake it to get a new object.
So I got very little sleep last night and had a dream about a vampire boat that comes around every seven years to feed, and in between the feedings you forget about it. But, in the words of the boat, which whispers darkly at all times, once you belong to the boat, you always will belong to the boat. And the boat can follow you around because in this dream world everywhere is full of canals, or maybe boats can glide on the water vapor in the air, I’m not too clear on that part.
This afternoon I fell asleep again and dreamed of a dog with three heads and four faces — conjoined triplets, with the middle triplet having two faces. The dog(s) was a golden retriever and it was very sweet and well-behaved, but every time I tried to take a picture of it something would get in my way. I followed it through the corridors of some kind of art project, where they hosted plays and concerts and such, but also had permanent installations of things like spinning oracular masks and people who would run down the hallways screaming in made-up languages. I found myself in the Republican Party headquarters, which was upstairs in the building where they rented out offices. All the elephants were pink. My old boss was there and I said goodbye.