documenting dream/un-logic phrases – out of context poetics – altered perceptions and fortean fiction + surreal serials. ///

• you do not belong here as i do not belong here
• separation of sea and vile
• serial memory series

serial memory series
ars travel

in the end, i think i was to follow them through, despite the breaks for food, i could not break off from the group. it was critical that they had their meeting despite the stalls closing one by one and it was getting late.

at the starting, from the train station, I went in search of food and found a private bus that would take me closer to home. i was far, the other side of the island. the train had brought me back from an even farther place, a name remote, distant from current consciousness. to think past the station and before that, i had to pass through a gate that this existence had closed. to go back further, i have to sleep so i can only go forward from thence on.

there were others aboard and we took on the highway.could not see and know their faces ( I think of a country club i leave from at night where there were much less people and a large screen.)


we were on the bus now, then stopped at a double storey food hall like some kind of intermission. we spread out, one losing the other on the massive grounds, differing directions. we wandered behind walls, through intersections.

i do not notice us eating. no one orders. we wait with luggage , we sit on beds, i move trolleys away from me but it keeps hitting a malay man. sorry i tell him. i am hoping he loses not his temper. (glittering stars somewhere near his eyes)

we were delayed for an hour as the chief monk had a meeting with the teachers. the man next to me had to get up and walk over to the monk to tell him the teachers and admin were waiting for him (he was talking to two other people behind a wall)

there were signs on the road (before we reached the food building), indicating a change in reality or that the reality was not as it is. markers for another world, to get around in an astral body.

there were no scenes of eating (truly) and the food stalls were vaguely there (just a conceptual tone of food selling)

metal shavings and hay was flying around and getting stuck on clothes as we waited on the bed with our luggage (were we leaving or returning?).

there were no signs of going back closer to home just yet. the meeting carried on and on and the monk was very tall in his orange robes.

(remembrance: the highway was taken once before and it overlooked a vast swimming center where there were children and multi-complex slides amidst tiny islands of palm trees that nestled out of large bodes of blue water)

the train stations are also astrally familiar but i don’t remember being on this one at this time,

we could not hear anything the monk said as we sat far away just as our bodies were far away from our homes.

wraith feast or the subtle moving of food

the food appeared in this one.

a room. too small for the many of us. but also…there was a park somewhere we were in.

the meat, already cooked was drowned in flour and egg (in a container or deep tray)

and much elongated sausages were frying on black, even longer hot surfaces on a table. an evening lunch table.

there were figures but no faces, just impressions. none of them talked.

i was wearing the apron and i held silver tongs. digging out the flat piece of roasted meat from beneath the yellow/orange sand like mixture in the deep tray.

like marinating.

food cooking on the tables. i think there were white candles. bottles of ketchup. or salt.

the room was badly lit. outside very much brighter than inside, so much so that the glare was unreal.

i was cooking but saw no one eating. they just moved around the tables like shadows.

i did not serve any of them.

black field

the people are gone from the food room

only the table remains, a dark wood, a black wood.

in its center, pieces of broken wood gather like an energy field building a nest

a mass of black matter congealing, gathering form , taking shape. levitating above the table.

perhaps its the uneaten food morphing, changing its structure

it’s building and building but not yet attaining self-consciousness though it has some kind of primal mind.

it knows its a creator and something inside me thinks that ‘the people did not leave.

they were taken into the fold of the black field above the table.

before memory is erased

the gathering mass above the table…i believe it ended up in a bag i was carrying in an extremely vague location….

i can only remember a dull red building, a side road and a woman with long hair crossing in the distance.

i think she is the spirit medium that a part of me has started worshipping.

eleven spirits serve her as i will serve her

but why she was crossing the road i cannot say

nor explain the possible contents in my bag.

somehow, it’s alright to also believe that the room itself or an emblematic element of it has folded upon its own essence and entered this carrier upon my back. it is perhaps my yoke

but i have chosen, willingly, to carry it, crossing some road before a vague red building and possibly following ‘she who is attentive to death,’ home.


separation of sea and vile series

there’s something about a white queen sized bed on the cycling track by the sea shore. at night.

something about a flag in the wind with no humans in sight.

something about the baboon waking up the card player, pointing to the boats that’ve run aground.

pointing to a pallid clothe-less man with no crotch and tongue (speaking only with the mind)

while it’s the beginning of the world after it’s end.


{ }
an enforced grounding of consciousness saved me from identity loss in the astral / physical world. the mind, almost slipping into blackness and the nothing gate, pulled back and realized that sperm was lost and not suicide.

2:19 pm • 26 August 2011

there were barricades along the streets that night. closed for some procession, perhaps a celebration in the streets even though i heard no music and no true crowd.

a bus had come and somehow was undecided if it should’ve stopped for people or not. it slowed down and passengers rushed to be in front of the door. I did not know if it finally stopped because i left for the train station (but never got there at all.)

i was somewhere else again, in front of a game machine where a coin would give you a chance to drop a can of coffee onto piles of cans of coffee with a mechanical stair pushing it forward and back ward and forward until it gathered enough piles to push more cans of coffee down a hole where you could collect more than a can with the price of one can (if you were lucky) it was that sort of game.

i felt bad cheating as i shoved my hand into the machine to push out more cans (though no can fell out) perhaps i was just thirsty.

and it got late (it was already night from the beginning and i didn’t know what else i had done that night the roads were barricaded.

7:26 am • 24 August 2011

her name is kat
haven’t seen her in a while. this lesbian dragon lady. at the crossroad of the sheltered seats she stood, hands controlling her dark brown dress as it blew up in the winds. heavily made up face. there were her friends there but they were flimsy like ghosts, or like unwanted guests in a dream.

the boy who boasted of drugs, who’s skin was young and brown, arrived and she said he had given up on the girl.

i can only know of under the block and i don’t think we went anywhere except to stand around in our dark clothes.

then outside, the windows, were like great screens of bright yellow light and i thought it was not natural.

later on there was an ongoing sound of squeaking metal but it sounded like a girl crying loudly for a long long time.

1:51 am • 22 August 2011

there was a foreign electrical charge in the air of the school compound.

i was with two military personelle, a woman administrator in her number 4 uniform and a bald dark skinned man in camo. I held an automatic rifle that wasn’t loaded. we counted three then dashed out of a school corner.

no covering fire. across the quadrangle.

going down some stairs, the woman led me to a floor where the other army man didn’t go.

there was a window to a room, a low window almost like a door. inside, another younger military man sat with his back towards me. he was interrogated by an officer.

i was instructed to shoot the young man at the back of his head point blank. he invited me to do so (i could tell he wanted to die and the officer wanted him to prove it)

i aimed the gun slightly off target and pulled the trigger (though i knew it wasn’t loaded. the younger man obviously didn’t know that.)

it was proven then, that he did not mind dying that way hence he was charged by the officer.

i do not remember leaving the place and the woman was no where near me in the end.

3:50 am • 21 August 2011

part of a serial memory

the odd film maker had bought out the whole apartment building. H.K. dirty run down high-rise. ONly the upper parts were lived in, no sense of what existed on the lower floors and the senses didn’t want to try to go there.

the blue signs at the windows showed ‘NO loud noises. NO cameras.”

somehow i was across looking into the building and the kitchens. i remember an old woman and a young girl and something truly dirty about the places. truly lived in. the girl as she sat there in her chair against the white tiled wall, was playing with something….

in another place. all was clinical white. orderly. i took a weak girl with me, she was in blue. she whispered to me (I am hungry) i sat her at a white table, where my mother sat.

i found myself at another table, with administrators of some sort. they had a process, one passing their object of observation and modification to the person on the left, to add, subtract, create etc, a chain of command and creation. it went round the table though i cannot say what exactly the object was.

somewhere in the midst of everything was the spirit of a doctor….

6:43 pm • 20 August 2011

jack & the boxes
he sells carton boxes and rents rooms out in a backwater alley.

connecting them both, i sense murder and disposal.

could be something

could be nothing.

6:02 pm • 19 August 2011

a mess of scenes.
the regular women, in an yellowed american semi-hall by the beach. this beach i remember, surrounded by bushes by the roadside. i was waiting for all of them to arrive, maybe 30, maybe 70. some man helped himself to water. sometimes there were a few people in the room, sometimes only the man. he had black glasses on and he taught spiritual things but i cannot recall exactly what.

there were open decks of cards (unwrapped boxes but wrapped cards) for sale at 30 pounds or some other currency. there were books on a shelf that tightly faced another shelf by the wall so that the contents could not be reached.

and snakes.

perhaps in another scene, but a quick scene, on the right snakes, on the left snakes on the floor and i was like a camera head jerking left and right.

the rest of the time is uncertain and neither are there places easily remembered.

6:00 pm • 19 August 2011

church of the lost wallet
we, the family, was the last to leave the church

the old church before it was torn down and turned into a cold monolith

the lights are gone and we were just cleaning up, picking up the final scraps

knowing outside the trees were bare and night was a dead thing

trapped behind black pews, i found the brown wallet

at first, i opened it and saw cartoon figures on plastic (must be a boy child’s purse…)

i dug in hoping for more cash and found old one dollar notes

then more compartments appeared as if out of its think skin, and the deeper i dug through the deeper the pockets became and more and more notes appeared

at first folded (a 10,000 $ note) then in stacks of fifties. each note was a different color and had a different face.

i was concerned that i could not steal them instead of turning them in (to an empty office) because the bank would trace me and there was no where to break such a large note.

perhaps i realized later that those faces on the currencies belonged to the boy child’s many fathers

that this wallet was in fact a holder of paper keys, and each face had a name that opened a door to various heavens which the boy was supposed to enter. passports to paradise.

now he was wandering somewhere out there in the night and i’ve become a streetwalker looking for a late night place to settle down with some food.

i recognize the late lights and it gives me comfort.

I cannot say about the status of the wallet. there was no one in the office for me to give to and the bank would trace my account if i were to steal it.

in the end, i think it was really just hell money i thumbed through and the faces on the currencies were the many souls trapped in colored paper.

3:51 pm • 15 August 2011

in the stairwell with an open phone

sitting on stairs with the cell and it says (she msg’s) “yep, it’s still cracked (the sky)”

and / i’m trying to tell someone or need to tell someone … “the big spirits in the sky, they’re not sending the rays down to us, they are taking the rays back”

and / some of the people i see will be with only half minds (or vegetative) walking about dazed

and / i’m likely to tell someone, “there, their minds have gone up there with the big spirits as i have told of them. but i find no one listening

as they’re all walking about in a daze, mind half taken away by something.

the phone cannot reach her signal again.

she knows which crack in the sky to go through, where the rays are going ) so i can follow) but i cannot get her right now.

hiding in the stairwell, sitting on the stairs. the phone is open but without motion. teh rays won’t reach me here

maybe it has reached her…

11:55 am • 14 August 2011

location III
we came from different dreams, that much i was sure of.

an assembly in the house, i was not the last. roughly, i picked up the presence of delivered packages, wrapped in that cheap brown paper with stamps. nothing spoke of its contents.

no table or tables and i was without my bag. someone’s at the door.

at the door, the long haired man had come and was pleased to be there.

it’s either he came with drugs or he had come from drugs. i feel it’s the latter.

did not see anyone kiss him as i was outside (again, though i dont remember being there at all) and there was the laughing man with his yellow drink. no one appeared before him but he was guffawing at unheard jokes.

i sat with him and finalized it all by removing a cigarette box and lighting up one after so long.

we were left there but i don’t remember more smoking or laughing. I do remember being inside again at some point and there was a room with no door and inside a naked woman stepped backwards, turned and was shiningly smiling. I was watching her young breasts and her skin was lovely.

the long haired man had nothing to do with anything. I never found out her name or who she was toying with.

i could not hear the laughing man anymore.

10:46 am • 14 August 2011


at the end of the state
the elder woman was with me along the street, in the suburbs, wandering for a cab to travel. i was using the phone one second and found myself at the other end of the street the next. it was a loss of space and time (i was trying to explain that to the elder woiman) we then transported to a quadrangle, overlooking a body of water and the business district skyline waiting for a show in the sky to begin but none had come. i lay down near her lap and we were both silent and watching it just grew darker up there, as if we were truly waiting for some negative comic event to manifest in the skies. there was a dark electric entity writhing like a behemoth behind the black sky and clouds, something unthinkable crossing over into our phenomenon laughter came from off center and i said, “god is laughing at us.” the buildings across the body of water then erupted, moving a whole skyscraper into collapse something in me said it was the government of another country responsible for such an act no one knew for sure if our leader was killed the people panicked and the elder woman and i searched for a transport home which was very near by then i lost her. i spent the whole of dawn and into the morning looking for her the people dwindled and the bombing scene was now blackened and smoking with most of the fires out. the morning sun rose higher, the phone showed 6 missed calls, people trying to contact me from the website the phone of the home was engaged indefinitely.

4:23 am • 14 August 2011


Departing song.
I toured memory from the second deck of a bus.

started from a late night eating place, somewhere middle eastern, with gates and lights, where we used to dine together. Somehow the street was the same one from a previous dream where i had gotten lost with someone else (i cannot recall who, then and now) Again it was a bus stop and a bus ride from low level condominiums.

The bus went on, i sat farther back and the P.A in the bus announced names of different construction companies. Various groups of construction workers stood up at the call of their company names, like a roll call. The bus stopped next to a place i recognize, dug deep with the early stages of building. I saw generators and men in pits.

Workers got off the bus. Two women sat in front of me. Outside the window, an indian woman appeared to knock on my end of the glass, telling me to signal the indian woman behind me to get off. I did so. Then i saw under a shelter in the construction site outside, a man frying flat bread, he was tossing it into a pit of wet cement behind him. I wanted to tell the women in front of me to see what he was doing then i explained to them that he was tossing the flat bread onto brown pieces of paper used to take away food from stalls. i thought he was tossing it into wet cement.

I was on ground level, off the bus. Morning was coming now. Everyone had finished work and we were throwing rocks into a large container, like picking up debris and cleaning up. For some reason i was also in a room, my room, with carefully placed candle tea lights on the floors. Prudently i found my way to the bed where i picked out a magazine page to prepare to roll dried drugs on them to smoke. Some where amid this transitions there was a bearded man in a corporate office scaring children in the front row of a classroom. I found his character erotic in terms of the fear he could instill in children or women.

At the construction site i had in my hands what looked like a black fin, or some kind of toy. I old someone next to me that I kept seeing Batman’s father everywhere in the city and this person i told it to, hugged me. My old partner was there suddenly and he called some new comer ‘toad’ This ‘toad’ person was with another boy and they both had thin bows with them and arrows with peacock feathers. I recall thinking of them, or mentioning to someone that they were robin hoods.

I looked across the street form the site and saw an old friend in the pizza restaurant. I could not tell if he was working or eating there. Then came the old song , sung by a black soulful woman and the chorus had the words, “Goodbye my Love, Goodbye My friend, It’s been a long, long walk.”

I slowly woke with that song believing that i was dedicating it to everyone as my departing song.

5:33 am • 19 November 2011

balloon party massacre game
a foreign voudon family dressed in royal purple suits seemed to have taken over a church ceremony. They turned it into a wedding ceremony. There was a boy with a white backpack who entered the church and he looked like his mind was not with him. He walked through the throng and was lost in the crowd. The mafia voudon men in sunglasses appeared to be following him, to catch him to throw him out. No one is sure if they succeeded. They appeared to be hostile and was hijacking and replacing the ritual with one of their own.

Next to me was a white man and a black boy in a reclining / laying down posture. The black boy was a jazz player and could emulate alto late night sax sounds with his mouth but he called it a ‘flute’ I encouraged him to become famous. When he left my side, the man in white started talking to be about practicality and dreams and i defended the dream. I wanted the black child to succeed at his craft.

I entered a hall filled with balloon sculptures. There was no one in there so i found the octopus sculpture and placed it on my head. I was now dressed in white and not my usual black and i wore slippers. I walked about the room and people started appearing. I then found myself in a laying down position hugging a balloon sculpture i could not recognize. it made me levitate and with a movement of my left or right leg i could propel around the room. My godfather’s daughter was there and told me she would be embarrassed to see me doing this.

I was then standing by the side of an iron door. There was a crowd of people lining up against grimy walls and they were being briefed by a commander in casual clothes about a game. There were vague balloon and colored sculptures against the wall in racks. I was peeling a dark gray fish open and slowly removing the bones before eating chunks of its meat. I still has to slowly remove at least 4 razor fine bones from my mouth that appeared to have pierced my lips. I felt no pain.

When the commander finished briefing, while i was eating, the white man similar to the one with the black boy walked up to me, slapped a white rectangular sticker on my bare stomach then went past me all in one smooth gesture. Immediately a girl in glasses and a white t shirt rushed up to me. SHe was pretending to be a vampire zombie . I mentioned that she’d drink my blood and she started kissing my neck. I said, “Should i be running?” (I didn’t know the rules of the game) No one answered.

So i lay down next to the body of the girl who was convulsing (made pretend or not i didn’t know)

3:46 am • 13 November 2011

downward flame
we were in a warehouse of sorts. an ex-living space.

maybe i had came out from a hospital after visitation. i recall beds but they were not in the darkly lit place. There was a square hole in the ceiling and up that hole went a higher ceiling. The hole itself was like a larger version of a lift shaft going up. A birds eye view. I fired a gun skywards, perhaps into the hole and the bullet tore through a glass ceiling and entered another room above me. In that room was gas and the bullet ignited the fire.

in slow motion the fire erupted then slowly crept down the shaft.

I rushed around the dark warehouse down corridors and my sister was there opening cupboards, emptying out unused stationary still in their packs. We were supposed to be saving important things. NOt stored up things. I dig through a black drawer in a tv cabinet. I think there were VHS tapes in there (i recalled at that moment my old house)

i was searching for portraits of my parents.

I entered the kitchen, it was strangely brighter in there, like a sunday morning. My father was on a ladder. I told him, hurry the gas was coming.

All the while the fire slowly crept down and i knew when it reached he mouth of the hole in the ceiling the whole house would erupt. But i also knew we had time.

together with my sister and father, we organized and left the warehouse (at this time i had semi woken up but still continued the narrative of the dream)

We exited in time, safely and the whole warehouse caught fire in slow motion, in a beautiful soft way.

2:23 pm • 9 November 2011

there was a black kite, made from soft cloth, bedsheets sewn together it seems,

massive, in the sky.

did mother make it?

just before this , i was in the church and a man i knew sat many pews behind us left before the rituals were completed

my mother disapproved yet i understood why the man had done it

i followed / watched the black cloth in the sky flying. i was in the bus with people i didn’t know.

then i saw a plane or a projection of a plane approaching in the sky

it flew over the bus and the ceiling blocked my view

turning to the left to peer out the window i saw the projection or a toy plane projection crash into brown buildings a few stories high

(the pilot had lost control)

a girl came out onto the streets (i dont know if she came from the burning building)

she had a wounded knee and she was crying.

i couldn’t tell if it was bruised or bloodied.

4:45 pm • 2 November 2011

i straddled the victim
4:39 pm • 2 November 2011

groups of artists and healers from the junk mind of night
there were two rooms. groups of artists in each room working on a large mural made up of many panels arranged in a narrative.

they belonged to the 24 hour group. No one had slept yet.

the foreigner was on a ladder leaning against the wooden panel painted a dark earthy red. he was squeezing paint out of a tube with a nozzle onto the surface.

in the other room, the panels were black and the art work was more child like, like chalk drawings in many colors. Somehow i preferred the pieces in the other room.

in a basement of a closed mall (or at least darkened mall late in the night)

Outside the adoration room with its dark brown wooden door were many shoes as the major light workers were in there for a session or meeting or talk.

i didn’t go in as somehow i was supposed to walk up and down the corridor , perhaps to settle down in a cafe that just finished frying some foods.

i remember seeing the pink slipper outside and thinking of a woman i love then opening the door to the adoration room, i saw my mother.

12:51 pm • 10 October 2011

on the slope of the darkened hill

the woman stooped, vomiting out

all these irrational fears

all these moonless nights

nowhere to go , nowhere to come from, no goal in mind

10:44 am • 29 August 2011

a more significant blue symbol

n that dark hall again, or chamber, or expanded room …

the spiritual teacher, i perceived her to be unhappy about somethingin my heart

she came very close to my ears and whispered things, something about a new soul that would replace the thing inside i needed to be rid of

she whispered and the word (or words, hard to tell) was blue against a black inner space

and the word was also a symbol or sorts, perhaps like a sigil. and it moved in the void

i was uneasy in the waking light and in the church, people were kissing this man’s ring while i reflected on the devilishness of being ‘of this world’

9:59 am • 29 August 2011


the man was calling out numbers on a P.A system.

the women, they are now singing. high pitched, asian songs, upbeat, nostalgic. singing for the ghosts of the red country.

i can’t see any of them (the men or women i mean) (as they are rollicking under the apartment blocks.) just disembodied voices.

scanning the roads, they are wet and the sunlight had gone out from the skies for some time.

a walk to the places of sand and trees would be advisable.

9:59 am • 29 August 2011


taking the crowded bus marked ‘open’ because all the others outside the condo won’t stop. the kids were swimming in the pool inside. I had left the shopping center and taken the wrong bus out onto the road path with a density of trees

the woman i miss was thought of but not seen.

9:58 am • 29 August 2011

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