Engrossing dream from which I thought I might not wake, or survive. Felt too real. Three or four of us on an SBS bus somewhere in the Bronx when suddenly the bus fills with heavily armed individuals, automatic weapons of war and destruction. I don’t know guns so I don’t know what they were called but I think AK47 was among them. Just every kind of oversize, over the top weapon you’d expect in a field of combat but not on an everyday bus ride. The gun carriers all looked happy and content to be disrupting like this. The few passengers and the driver were clearly nervous but nothing could be done. Guns are legal now, or rather they were in this dream. 

Just as quickly as they’d occupied the bus the gun carriers disappeared. The SBS bus turned out to be more elaborate than most, with hallways and tunnels leading to hotel rooms and gas stations. I wandered around these passages but found the hallways too twisty-turny and unpredictable as they stayed tethered to the SBS bus while it made it movements through the Bronx. I could not tell where we were but I think it was the Q44. 

I returned to the bus and found a fresh wave of gun carriers. This time the few other passengers muttered something to me, then lay down as if to hide. This SBS bus had a lot of extra room for that sort of thing but it was not enough. These gunmen were coming for us, to teach us a lesson, to educate us, to murder us so we would learn something about the future of guns in New York. Our assassinations would be our way of being informed. 

…

Today’s commute was poorly executed. I missed the train because I’d checked arrivals for the wrong station. The 7:10 wass to arrive at Queensboro Plaza, not 36th Ave. When I got to 36 Ave at 7:07 what I thought was the 7:10 had just left. I thought this meant the myMTA app was wrongwrongwrong but it turned out I’d left the screen where it was last night, when the W train on which I stood was made an express so locals had to get out and stand in the buttfucking cold wind to wait for a local N said to be one minute away. It was either a very long minute or it was longer than a minute but I could not help notice the brazenly distraught look on the face of a woman nearby, clearly underdressed for 10 degree real feel and clearly unhappy with the situation. I was somewhat more successfully attired but the whole situation was, however brief, ennervating.

The sunny radiant always-beaming Asian woman was on the platform today. I had not seen her in weeks. No words ever spoken  but I sensed the recognition. She reminds me of the Chinese woman I had a thing with pre Pandemic. Bubbly and daffy, she got around town on a scooter, one day scooting right up to me and initiating conversation as if we were long-time confidantes. She was 60-something and fun at first until she talked of living with her, on her coin. She’d spoil me with sugar momma money. I could not live like that. If it was like an endowment or a grant or something from an official entity it would work but this would amount to being a sex toy. 

At the office where someone just entered this previously quiet break room and is talking very loudly. Time to go anyway…