Author: T.M. Camp
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a friend in need
We’re all a little worried about Patton Oswalt. Having known him since we were kids, it’s obvious he isn’t himself lately. He’s depressed, lethargic, and we’re all little bit worried. But he’s a celebrity. It’s not like we can just check him into a hospital. So my wife and I and a few other friends…
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echo | mother, father, cat
I’m starting the process of transcribing dreams from my old journals. It’s interesting, to say the least. Leafing through those old notebooks, doing my best not to get drawn back into the past while I sift through these old pages for little scraps of dream. The first of these was just posted below. I’ll post…
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the fuzzy pink octopus spider monster
This is the first dream I can remember — obviously, it’s not the first dream I ever had. That’s long gone now. But this is the earliest one I can remember… …we’re driving in the car, my two brothers and me. Out mother is behind the wheel. We’re on our way to the grocery store.…
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again
The voices again tonight. No music this time, no men. One or two women, I can’t quite be sure. Possibly a child. I told my wife about the voices a few days ago. She could tell tonight that I was hearing them again. And, of course, she cannot. We keep a fan going at night,…
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raised voices
Two or three times now, I have found myself unable to sleep because of the voices. It sounds for all the world like two men having an argument somewhere in the house. Sometimes there are women’s voices mixed in. Sometimes there are children. I can almost just make out what they’re saying. Almost. Sometimes there’s…
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the dancing toy
…disturbing discoveries in the new house continue as we settle in. (I should mention that this is not our actual house, not the new house we moved into earlier this year, but some alternate, dreamspace version that has that same-but-not-the-same quality which you only find in dreams.) There is the painting in the upstairs bedroom,…
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an uncomfortable visit
…shocked at how seedy the old neighborhood looks, I feel a pang of survivor’s guilt over my own relatively comfortable life now. Through the open door of the apartment, I can see that our old neighbors are sitting down to dinner. I’m stunned for a moment to find that the little boy my son used…
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cages
…passing through one of the seedier parts of town, I stop off to visit with an old friend from college. I’m surprised to find him here, in such strained circumstances. We sit out on his little patch of front yard and chat for a bit, but it quickly grows tiresome. He’s consumed by self-involved bitterness…
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the pedestrian
Waking up in the winterdark, I head downstairs. Cold floors and echoes of early morning dreams. I pass by the front door and see someone out on the sidewalk, a dark shape bundled up against the cold. Halfway to the kitchen, I stop. The dark shape picking its way along the crust of snow, another…
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air
As a child, very young, I was rushed to the hospital with the croup. As my mother tells it, I was sick and she went in to check on me when I was taking a nap . . . and I was gray. That was Christmas Eve 1970. I was 18 months old. I remember…
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statues
…and we’re walking together, my son and my youngest daughter, on the grounds of the local university. It is late afternoon, the sun just beginning to set behind the hills. I stop for a moment to inspect a statue. My son continues on, leading his sister by the hand up the pathway. After a few…
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weird stuff
I said to my daughter “Get behind me.” “What’s wrong?” “I’m not sure. Something weird’s going on.” “I can handle weird, dad.” I looked at her. “My kind of weird.” She got behind me. [I’m guessing at the date on this one, based on something I posted to Pinterest seven months ago. Apparently this dream…
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thugs and church
[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated May 4th, 2003] …and as I’m walking through the parking lot towards my car, I see two guys approaching — I make eye contact, just to established that they know that I know they’re there . . . One of them nods…
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and she smiles
…and when I walk through the door, she’s sitting there on the couch, holding a cup of tea to her lips, one leg tucked under her, staring out the window and I stand there, watching her for a moment and she looks up and sees me, and she smiles. And I wake up.
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splinters
[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated July 10th, 2002] Yesterday morning I woke up with splinters in the palm of my hand — not sure how or from where and I couldn’t help wondering where I’d been wandering the night before.
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blood
[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated June 19th, 2002] You wake up with blood in your ears, you wonder what it means.
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nursing home
[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated November 4th, 2001] This place is full of voices. I can’t tell if what I’m hearing is from one who is here or who used to be here — but it hardly matters which. I’m hearing voices all day.
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nephew, demon
[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated September 12th, 2001] And in my dream my three-year-old nephew [REDACTED] — plagued by depression and despair all his short little life — has finally given into his despair, twisting a length of picture hanging wire around his neck and hanging himself.…
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the promotion
[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated July 25th, 2001] Nothing good is coming… …and because my brother is being appointed to such a prestigious position as ambassador, our whole family has been invited to come and take part in the ceremony and reception.
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the breakfast date
[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated May 15th, 2001] …and I am sitting there in Nate’s diner waiting for her to arrive. Finally, my time running short, I get up to leave. At the counter, the night shift waitress turns over the reign to the day shift. Nate…
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blue eyes
[This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated September 28th, 1998] Dream of a child, born late and fully formed — with an unmistakeable look of recognition in her clear blue eyes. Another dream of a bazaar in Night City — somewhere in The Midlands, at least — and a…