House dreams...ugh

I hate house dreams because they usually mean that I got some shit to take care of in real life. 

Last night I dreamed there were some undesirable types that were staying at my house. One of them was a guy named Robert Lee. My mom started to dislike him after learning that he had a civil war hero name. Me, I just resented how he drove his quad into my garage and banged the place up in the process. 

I had failed to install padlocks on all the doors and this was the result: people camping in my house. I chastised him for crashing into the plumbing and causing a massive leak. I had to be somewhere, so I had to leave the leak and charge this Robert guy with telling my mom to find someone to fix it while I was gone. 

Meanwhile, all I could think about was how the the garage would be flooded and all the drywall and the garage door would be getting ruined by the water. To be fair, the plumbing was a bit of a disaster without getting banged into. It snaked around and had many patches and dead ends in it. What it was doing right above the garage door to begin with was a mystery. Nonetheless, Robert was getting the blame. 

I found myself at my therapist's place, which was a trailer with a nice sliding glass door. I could see that David Chahn was already there along with a couple other people. I wanted to talk to my therapist about all the crap going on at my house, but really I just needed to use the phone. I was supposed to be at college, I believe, and wouldn't have time to have a session. 

"It's your time," she told me, meaning that it was my session. 

I guess David and I shared the time slot on alternate weeks, so it could technically belong to either of us. I told her I'd just need to use the phone and tell my mom to look after the plumbing, which I did. When I got to the part about it being Robert's fault, she asked me what his last name was. 

"Robert Lee," I told her. 

"Well, that makes sense," she said as if it suddenly confirmed everything she hated about racist stereotypes.

Later I was at the beach. There was a sidewalk being repaired and I guess I was on the crew. They were laying in grout for the cracks to give it a seamless appearance. Some of the old grout needed replacement. 

Once again, David Chahn was on the scene, laying in the grout in strips. I watched him as he performed the delicate operation. I told him I needed to study his technique, since I might wind up doing that job someday. 

After a few minutes he decided to go surfing and shouted, "I am Elias!" in a tone that resembled the line from Sparticus. 

I laughed at the incongruity of it all, an Asian quoting a line from the old movie and tweaking it to have a different ethnic twist. He was using it in a solidarity kind of way, as if to identify with the suffering of a person named Elias, who was I guess some kind of martyr for the cause of persecuted immigrants everywhere. 

I watched him disappear behind some growing waves as I contemplated just how far up the tide was going to come. I was in some pretty wet sand and I couldn't tell if the tide was going out or coming in. I got the impression that it was going out, but I still needed to watch my back since the waves were increasing in size. 

I woke up with the song from the Zillow commercial in my head. "Everybody wants a place to be. Lobsters live at the bottom of the sea and I'm at the bottom of the earth." Damn jingles. 

Hey, it's Saturday, though. I made it. I need to make it special, but I'm too scared to do shrooms, though I really want to try microdosing again. Just another thing I will put off, most likely. 

Perhaps I'll go under the house and look for plumbing leaks, since I keep hearing weird noises from the plumbing when I pee. It sounds like rain hitting the roof. I don't even have to flush the toilet. It's as if the pee is displacing the water in the bowl and causing a tiny waterfall inside the pipes that resonates instead of just being quiet like pee ought to do. 

If it is all internal to the pipes, well, I guess it can make all the noise it wants. But if it's drip, drip, dripping on my AC vents or something else under there, well, we gonna have some problems. Last time I looked I never saw any evidence of leaks, so I've been telling myself the internal resonance story ever since. 

Since I tortured myself with woodcutting and burning for the last two days, maybe I'll take another pass for today. I skipped my exercise yesterday because I figured four hours of chucking wood into a burn pile ought to suffice. Yeah, I'm good. I've made up for those late night pancakes and honey toast and mini pizza binges. I've gained 3 pounds, but then again, I may just have to poop.