I Dream of Jeremiah 2

I turned up in the dream of another blogger, C.O. Moed:

We were in a van traveling west on Houston Street. A tall thin, young man with long dreds and a beautiful bandana sat next to me. He wore magenta / deep purple lipstick--the kind I wore in the late seventies. His nails were either green or purple.

I began pointing out different things from the van window as we passed "First Avenue," but in fact it looked more like 2nd or the Bowery. There was all this construction. A tenement building like a chess piece was standing at an angle to the corner, awaiting removal. I pointed to the corner and said, "Oh, and this is my neighborhood and that is a big glass building soon," and perhaps another remark about the destruction of my neighborhood.

The van stopped and metamorphosed into an area by a skating rink. The tall young man went off to get something and I realized THAT was Jeremiah Moss and I didn't need to tell him anything about the neighborhood! He came back and I made my introductions. I was a bit flustered. He was incredibly gracious.

--C.O. Moed (dreamed 4/15/12)

Gas Station Art

I dreamed that the closed gas station on 8th Avenue at Horatio Street was reopening because the owners were able to renegotiate their lease.

They were clearing out the rubble of the old gas station to make way for their renovations. Amid the ruins were bunches of original drawings for classic movie posters, including Star Wars. The woman who created them was trying to save them--many had been damaged by the elements. She wanted her artworks to be preserved. But the businesswoman in charge of the gas station's renovation didn't care, she just wanted everything cleaned out and tossed away. The two women were in conflict about the movie poster art and kept fighting over it, with the artist crying and begging while the businesswoman bossed her around. I stepped in to mediate between the two of them and was able to help them come to a compromise of some sort.

--JM

Chelsea Hotel Bombed

My anxiety dream involved having to hand in my daughter's application for a selective citywide public middle school (I am a cliche) and discovering that the location for the drop-off had secretly been moved from the school to the Chelsea Hotel. But the Chelsea Hotel was bombed just as I rounded the corner, racing to get there before the deadline. I ran into the smoldering rubble holding this envelope with the application in it, and thankfully there were no people at all, even though there was twisted metal everywhere and smoke. I had to find the cardboard box I knew existed, in which to leave this application. I woke up in a sweat.

I think the dream is not only about a changing New York City, but also a changing me. I was once a 22-year-old who lived in a falling-down tenement around the corner from the Chelsea Hotel. Now I am a 44-year-old with a mortgage.

--Anon

Fine Fair

About 6 months ago I had a nightmare. I was walking through rubble that spread from Delancey to Grand and from Essex to about Pitt Street. There was a faint path I walked on, but I was carrying a lot of bags from FINE FAIR. I realized that a huge chunk of my neighborhood was gone. I walked along sobbing and feeling like no one else cared that all this was lost.

--Karen Gehres

Loews Village 7

Last night I dreamed they demolished the Loews Village 7 cinema to build a "fashion salon." I was taking pictures of the demolition and overheard an older couple talking. The woman said, "Where are we going to see movies now? Up in the 50s or 60s where we'll be mugged and killed?" I then started weeping inconsolably for the loss of the Loews 7, feeling my movie-going choices taken away.

--JM

Fedora Flooded

I dreamed that the New Fedora was catastrophically flooded by yesterday's unrelenting rain. The restaurant was swamped with muddy waters, rotten leaves floating on top, the walls soggy and grimed. I stood there looking at the devastation, filled with the most delicious sense of Schadenfreude.

--JM

Fontana Shoe Repair

Last night I dreamed A. Fontana Shoe Repair reopened. Angelo was there. Overjoyed, he showed me his new lease--12 more years with no rent increase! Although it had been gutted, most of the interior had somehow been saved and replaced. Only now, instead of a shoe repair shop, it was a barber shop with a single red chair. The walls were pistachio faux-wood paneling, the ceiling strung with Christmas lights.



Angelo felt like celebrating. He poured us each a tall shot glass filled with spicy orange-flavored liquer. I drank mine fast, he sipped his, and I felt embarrassed for drinking mine the wrong way. I told Angelo that I would write about the reopening on my blog and "let everybody know to come back." He smiled but didn't seem to understand what I was saying.

He had a new television and a VCR, and he put in a Marcello Mastroianni movie. The mood shifted. Angelo became quiet and retreated into the back of the shop, through a door, into a decrepit room that looked like a defunct tavern from another age.

I took out my camera to take pictures of the shop for my blog, but the batteries were low and I couldn't get the flash to work. I became anxious, worrying that I would not be the first blogger to announce "Fontana Reopens!"

People started coming in to get their hair cut. Angelo forgot about me. I went outside. The shop windows were foggy and I couldn't see in. I soon realized that Fontana's had not reopened after all. I went into a Chinese hand laundry next door and through their back door connected to the defunct tavern, through that, and into Fontana's. It was gutted and empty.

I looked out the window and saw that that buildings on the corner had been demolished. I thought, "I'm next."

--JM

Originally posted at JVNY