Pinky Cleans the Windows of Perception
Dreamed 2017/2/5 by Wayan
Our band, the Krelkins, is in Snoring Dog Studio for the first time in 3 months. So slow! Illnesses. Ross drums I Wanna Be and Dawn's Dream. Only get the drum tracks solid. But better than no progress!
My bandmates Mike & Nic are distraught. Their car was stolen--AGAIN--this time with Nic's purse in it, with rent money inside. Money orders, so they may be cancelable. But worrisome.
As we load the van to leave, exhausted, a sudden hard rain drenches us. Drag out wet tails home.
I FINALLY finish transcribing my dream-journal for 1983--scrawly, full of abbreviations and Chinese. Now I have just EIGHT MORE YEARS of indecipherable scribbles like this to go through. So slow! Daunting.
But then, so was our studio work. We still did it.
I'm in southern San Francisc, in a scruffy post-industrial stretch near Bayshore Freeway. Small factories, now repurposed. Cheap little tract homes--built cheap, anyway, and under a million--cheap for here and now. Few trees, no parks. The streets are mostly empty.
It does have bright murals by the freeway onramp, some Modernist some Impressionist, of smokestacks as Greek columns--nice visual pun. Framed by the columns, painted sailboats on the Bay. I think these murals are city-funded, trying to encourage homebuyers & investment... and so far, by the look of it, mostly failing.
But I live here now, in a square wooden house on a corner. A semi-wasteland, yeah, but that made my new huge, light studio affordable.
I just moved in. Still a lot of set-up to do.
Climb the stairs to my studio in the northwest corner. The windows and my bed frame and the frame of the house itself are linked--and flimsy. Loosen one, loosen them all. Find a broken screw-in hook too. Needs replacing. And the slats of my bed wobble! Unsafe.
The windows are still grimy too. I clean the insides, while my housemate Pinkie, on a long ladder, cleans the outsides.
Now wait, my housemate is... Pinky Pie? That ditzy pink party animal from My Little Pony? What's she doing in our universe?
And how does she cling to that ladder with just hooves? (Answer: recklessly.)
Now a mutual friend peers in to see how we're doing. She's Rarity, an artist who's the polar opposite of cheerful careless Pinky. I know she won't actually help us clean up; too fastidious. She's a fashionista unicorn with a purple mane and tail but a white coat showing every spot and stain. No dustrags and ladders for her!
But Rarity leans her head close in to murmur some some advice low enough so Pinkie can't overhear through the glass. "The space has lovely potential, darling, but... just get the west side done today. Don't do the windows around the corner on the north side. They need cleaning dreadfully I know, but Pinkie can't safely reach around the corner, and she'll try. She needs to climb down, move the ladder, and climb back up. Don't tempt her to stretch and fall!"
Rarity loathes dirt and ugliness--so when she warns me to leave some dirt for tomorrow, to pace this cleanup...
...I better listen.
NOTES IN THE MORNING
Like one of Pinkie's pratfalls.
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