Calls From the Dimensional Rift Cube

10/8/2025 –

There’s seems to be an entire, extensive plot here that I’m unfortunately not remembering. I crash in at the tail end. It seems to be yet another Real World style living situation where a bunch of peeps are in the same pad. I walk near the back of the house and there are 2 bathrooms. I look into the one on the right all:

“Damn! That shit is so well organized. Like, there are 3 people in this bathroom and everything is lined up for each of them in as orderly a fashion as absolutely imaginable replete with fancy custom storage contraptions. Nothing is out of place at all.”

I’m sort of mocking the person I’m talking to (who’s a coworker I never hang out with) and impressed at the same time. One of those type sitches. I’m like:

“Fuck, look at our bathroom. I put my stuff in plastic bags for Christ sake.”

And with this I look behind me to my left. You know, this bathroom is surprisingly clean. I then look in the cabinets and its almost like I materialize these plastic bags, which hide behind cabinets. I can see the point though. The 3 of us sharing this bathroom are honestly pretty tidy and yeah, the other three are def registering on the spectrum.

I wake up for a bit and in the next dream my dad has a new adventure for us. We’re going to go work in a police department in San Antonio doing CSI type shit as far as I can tell. My dad looks nothing like my actual father and is in fact wearing a Sherlock Holmes type get up. I think he’s more a representation of my spiritual father. It seems like he can do anything but why the fuck this? It’s not like I’m not resisting much. Who doesn’t want to solve mysteries? Being a cop though? In San Antonio? If it’s what my dad wants I guess. As he whisks me around alternate dream dimensions carrying me by my armpits in flight, it all feels pretty fun.

He whisks me to where I’m going to stay, which is this decent sized red-walled room in a very large, very old house. I’m fine with it but I leave to go downstairs for a while and when I come back there’s now an incredibly small Japanese man with crooked teeth rooming with me. Ummm, if I’d known this was a part of the deal, I wouldn’t have gone along with it. Where am I going to masturbate? I eventually sort of warm to the guy. Then three or four of his friends show up and I’m warming to the situation in general. That’s about where it cuts out. 

10/9/2025 –

My childhood neighbor is driving me home from a night of partying in this large, very slick black and red tour bus. Both the interior and exterior are an excellent shade of black and red and we’re wasted. I am definitely flying. In fact, my old neighbor’s so drunk he wonders if it’s OK if he just drops me at the functional family’s house instead because it’s closer than my pad. I’m not sure if I agree or not but this is what happens.

When I wake up in their spare room the next day, they’re happy to see me. In fact, we’re going to eat breakfast together. They toss up what looks like a fairly excellent spread with rice, eggs, and toast on some thick fresh bread. Man, we’re just having such a good fucking time sitting there in their breakfast room with the sun beaming in. The banter’s flowing freely in all directions but particularly between myself and the functional family’s son.

As this is happening I’m thinking to myself:

“Wow. I just show up wasted out of nowhere and they’re totally cool with me crashing at their place. They’re just so freaking nice to me.”

I’m so cynical it’s almost hard to accept as real. Like always. At one point the dad starts talking about these paintings by a particular artist he’s had for years and how he’s getting a new one because he likes the dude’s work so much. I look over and they’re these shiny oil paintings of soldiers engaging in various coordinated activities.

“Absolutely, I’ve always loved those.”

I tell him, except that I obviously don’t. They’re paintings of soldiers and I don’t even think they’re very good paintings of government murder people honestly. This is why everyone is constantly lying in life. Shit like this.

I now head out back with the functional son. He’s showing me the insides of the bitchin’ black and red tour bus. It is pretty choice and I’m not sure if he has the same one as the one we were driving the night before or if we were cruising in his ride. You can see that this thing’s his baby. It’s his racecar. His project. Go on with your bad self functional son. Keep on trickin’ out your baaaad bus. It can never have too many tricks.  

10/10/2025 –

We’re downtown on a street heading down a hill to the waterfront. Over these small sized condo buildings is this gigantic white cubic structure that looks sort of like an old school church hovering in mid-air. It’s not just hovering either, it’s like there’s a dimensional rift cube holding it decidedly in another dimension and our own at the same time.

A couple of the dudes in the band The Green River Thrillers are hanging out on the street beneath this thing and periodically point at it like:

“We’re going to be recording up there! In that ridiculous interdimensional floating sonic sky church.”

I must confess that it looks pretty choice but they’re trying to rope me into the project they’re working on and I’m really unsure about it but I politely agree, thinking I can just blow it off later. Not long after this happens the perspective shifts and now I’m in a moderately swanky 5^th floor condo in Bell Town, sitting on a leather couch. Phil from the Thrillers calls about the project and I’m like:

“Oh. You just want me to sing guest lead vocals on a track? Yeah. That absolutely sounds like fun.”

I have zero anxiety about this at all. I’m pleasantly surprised that this is what they were looking for. Mainly I just think it’s something I won’t feel embarrassed by artistically.

I get up and when I get back under I’m going on a trip to this mystical place to the northeast of Seattle, well past Beacon Hill. Kind of like the sonic sky church, it’s just this area that’s illuminated on a map in my minds eye, with a clear psychic coating. Now I’m magically there and it’s weird, partially because I’m a thin blonde woman with a short part semi-bob going on. It works with the low key athletic wear, for sure. It’s a decent but not too fancy hotel complex.

I head out to the lower floor deck area where my family is coming back from whatever convention they’re here to attend and I’m quite surprised. I thought this was just some low-level thing but it seems quite monstrous. There are all sorts of people spilling into the hotel area and again, there’s just this odd feeling that it was a far bigger deal than I realized.

My brother is sitting on the concrete steps and talking about how the best thing he saw that day was this old school NBA player’s presentation. I can’t believe this guy is still alive and isn’t he insanely fucked up? Like serious personal problems? Oh yeah, absolutely, that’s why the presentation was so good. I find myself lost in a brief world of what I’d apparently read about this classic NBA star. It’s crazy and not in a good way. Can I remember the guy’s name when I wake up? No. Was it even a real person? No idea.

Then I warp back into my rather small but cozy room at the hotel. I’m just waking up and I slept the entire day away. I’m watching people roll back in from the convention and I just slept. That’s what I did with my day. I only feel mildly conflicted about this. We have just a few days left here. I’m genuinely not sure if there’s anything I want to do and I’m also not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. Again, mildly conflicted.

I leave my room and look out at the view from on high. It is pretty glorious. There’s like a blue double orbed cloud thing going on. Blue Ridge Mountains vibes. Yup, nothing to complain about with that view. Nothing to complain about at all.   

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