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Carlyle Baker’s Dream Journal

Carlyle Baker

I am in a market scene, some city of the middle east, talking with the son of the local bomb-maker, he is poor, diseased with nothing to lose.

And dark childhood memories, finger nails scratching skin, in quotations “the hope of any requirements will be justified.”

Where is this, downunder, with a kangaroo that hops up and grabs me, but a male lion comes in, we try to escape into a shanty-house, the door does not close or lock.

A bank scene, I am trying to cash a cheque, there is a new method of identification, the teller tries to explain in another language (french?) she makes chalk marks on the counter, try this, try that.

Some kind of drug scene (like wm. Burroughs) a tube of pills or ampules, all different colors, the first shot lasts a long time, maybe a lifetime.

A lakefront scene, a plane or ufo lands on the road, down the road is an old dilapidated building, “the house that nobody lives in” from tom waits, large empty spaces.

Bayou country along gulf coast with cajun bikers, mean looking dudes, look at map of coast, channels, canals, only one way in, no way out.

Some kind of college, classrooms have different numbers but are all connected, meet young female instructor, grey pants and sweater, I am wearing the same thing.

At a work-camp with friend bob, a bar-canteen with hillbillies, kinda MMA fights going on, crippled man in a fight, his body like a picasso image.

A japanese artist has inflatable latex monkey heads, they inflate-deflate at intervals, we enter another art studio thru a trap door like attic.

Huge machinery at construction site (brade inc.) moving something in or out of building, chains, cables, hydraulics, under street, i am moving over and under moving parts.

A crowded beach scene along the river at montreal, and later at a cafe, old postcards, photos from noir movies, meet attractive androgynous girl, short hair like annie lennox.

I get a new pet for my new apartment, a little monkey, almost human, I like it so much I get another one, like a circus sideshow, see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

I visit an art dealer/curator, spacious apartment full of objects, artifacts, ritual bone pieces, how where they used, how old are they? Skin and bone and teeth.

Some kind of assembly meeting with a high priest, gown, cap costume, a sexless being, they knew me as a child, holy-holy, baptism.

A life-size collage dream, cut-out figures against background, a making art dream, intersections in time with wm burroughs.

Kinda rooming house with weird people, a gay guy wants to shower with me, others explain sobbing, half naked tattooed bodies, with beatles music.

Another outback australia, remote small print shop and art gallery, meet wacky owner, vast collection of posters, chap books, drawings.

A neil young mystery, he has been looking for his 2 missing children for 20 years, tells the story in a smokey dark place, there’s a film clip of children half-buried in the ground, like “in cold blood” feeling.

Contemporary german art group, lecture, performance in school setting, I am trying to leave early, running down halls, stairs, very cold looking german people.

Friend doug sends me hand drawn versions of my copy-art, detailed explanation, he died shortly after this dream.

At some large facility, school or jail, large rooms, secret doors, passages, halls full of people, in concrete room with a girl who seems to live there., inflexible authority from wm. Burroughs.

It is a cold night, the furnace is blasting, the heat inspector comes in, the blue flames, kind of a hell scene, the raw and the cooked.

With allen ginsberg and his father or maybe his brother. They have junk/salvage company, separate and recycle everything from scrap metal to food waste, we talk about art and business.

Kinda like an old newsreel, humphrey bogart has a car that had a dead body found in it, and something about john and jackie kennedy.

Doing an art project, decorate, spray-paint clothing, bold, garish colours display on walls with naked mannequins, face make-up, standing alone.

Robotic spider-like creature, science-fiction dream, looks at me with paralyzing ray-vision and sound.

An asian, japanese family business, large flower pots with religious symbols, woman trying to tell me something, can’t understand her, reptiles and snakes on floor and walls.

Train yard, making up trains, diesel engines, crews getting ready different colour cars, yellow-green, train hits wall, doors, gates. Heavy metal thrumming sound.

Apocalyptic scene, storm where lightening turns night to day, hell on earth, never ending fire.

Church service, ceremony in a big city, crowds moving along sidewalk, so crowded that my feet don’t reach the pavement, 40s 50s kind of scene.

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Carlyle Baker

You can find Carlyle on Twitter @karlofkarl and Tumblr.

Author: Carlyle Baker Tags: Carlyle Baker, Dreams issue Category: Dreams issue August 4, 2017

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interdream / credit: d. enck
Four dream poems by Nate Maxson
Kathmandu (detail) by Carlyle Baker
Collages by Carlyle Baker
ptg series 11 art carlyle baker
New Digital Art by Carlyle Baker
berthusen / credit: d. enck
Language – a poem by Jared Carnie

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Empty Mirror

Established in 2000 and edited by Denise Enck, Empty Mirror is an online literary magazine that publishes new work each Friday.

Each week EM features several poems each by one or two poets; reviews; critical essays; visual art; and personal essays.

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