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Dreamed 1993/11/27 by Chris Wayan

I'm Lt. Joe Leaphorn, Navaho detective. Dream: witches pass ice cream mouth to mouth, kissing.

I'm visiting San Francisco on business. But in the course of the investigation, I must stay as a guest in the Victorian house where a witch-coven meets. Compost Coven, they call it.

Yeah, I'm the guest of witches. Good thing Chee's not here!

It's a strange place, as strange as the name. "You name yourselves after garbage?" I ask. "Not exactly" says a witch. "We do recycle, but compost literally means 'putting things together.' To see what ferments. That's what we do."

True. They hold a party, and wildly different people have gathered in the house and yard... mostly out in the back yard now. I stare down from the window, disoriented by the sheer variety of colors and sizes and shapes and clothes. And sexes. They're like dream-people, who don't quite make sense--I can't read them.

A little overwhelmed, I wander into the kitchen--and get a shock. Three women--the hostess and a friend of hers and a small teenage girl--are spooning ice cream into each other's mouths, and french kissing, sliding half-melted ice cream from tongue to tongue, melding flavors.

Despite myself, I'm turned on. I want to join them! But they ignore me. I'm a stranger, a man, a Navaho. I shouldn't anyway--I have food allergies, and that ice cream'd probably make me sick.

But it tears at me--they look so sensual...


Ice cream and sex are equally risky pleasures for me. I'm allergic to additives in most ice creams, and even the purest brands have enough sugar to sicken me. And love? Most girls have characteristics I can't even be around--smokers for example, or pets, or cosmetics. But even with the rare health-food-ice-cream-girl, sex is so sweet for me it's stressful--too much and I feel overwhelmed. Lovers in songs may yearn to be swept away, but when I am, I often get sick! Just too much for my body to handle.

The basic dilemma of environmental illness (EI) is "I want that, but can't tolerate it." A lot of us, including me, twist this into "I must not really want it" or desperately assert "I truly want this, so it won't hurt me." Both are false. I wasted years in therapy looking for "resistance" that wasn't there. We EI victims often bargain with our illness--"Just a little ice cream/sex/love now and I'll be careful all week," denying the cumulative, unpredictable nature of stress. Tonight, for example, I ate avocadoes and tried a new vegetable juice. Avocado's on my suspect list; the juice is unknown. I woke up ill. From which one? If I'd tried just one new food, I'd have another clue toward healing myself--been a cautious, methodical detective like Joe Leaphorn.

But nnnnnooooo....

LISTS AND LINKS: I'm Just Not Myself Today - race-bent & culture-bent dreams - Native Americans (Navaho) - Only in San Francisco - witches - exhibitionism - dream munchies - environmental illness - eating disorders, especially anorexia

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