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  How do Hopi make that lovely Pottery?  Dreamt: March 12th 2005
  The great question of the day was, “How do the Hopi Indians make that lovely pottery.” It is pottery that is so extremely rare.

There was an entire generation of people whose faces are red and a mix with the red man. They are called the lost generation. “Many of the Indians of that generation have perished.” the speaker explains. This is interesting.

A pot is displayed to us. It looks like it was melted in the sun. It is difficult to explain why it was special. It looked red and basically melty.

The teacher continued to explain, so the Hopi Indian was making pottery, he had to dig the clay, and make the mold, and design it, then fire it in a kiln. But one day…

The image of a Hoppi Indian appears on a screen. He is walking next to a mount and a pond. He drinks the clay and proceeds to lie down in the pond mound and fall asleep upside down. The clay would remain in his stomach all night and harden.

The moment it hits you how the clay comes out is the same moment I had during my dream. My dream didn’t show that but left it to our collective imaginations. Suffice to say, this method of making the special clay cost many the Hopi Indian their life but created completely unique pottery. A collective “gross.” between you and me.

The stage was cleared. A performer arrives on stage. After some fanfare it is understood that she person claims to be a descendant of the Hopi tribe. Person bends over and makes a pained face. Then takes a lighter and proceeds to lights a fart on fire.

(Pre-Moral) What’s with the entire fart Jokes, like my dreams on some South Park episode. We ponder the legitimacy of what we see because the person’s back isn’t facing the audience.

*** Intermission ***


Many dancers fill the stage. Gwen Steffani is there doing one handed pushups on stage. And Britney Spears is there wearing white tight pants and like dancing. What can I say, Britney is a good dancer.

I am invited to the stage to demonstrate the lighting fart trick. I walk up to Britney. She’s putting on her show. I’m somewhat confused. I lean over and face Britney away from the audience.

Britney re-arranges the expression on my face. It’s hard to explain. But she takes her fingers and re-arranges my expression by guiding my skin. When my face looks to be making the correct expression she gives me a positive look. I try to put on the best show. I look at the audience and give a concentrated glare.

Then, I cannot see what is happening; Britney helps me give a good painful expression by pinching me on the arm. She does not let go. It is mixed feelings to have Britney Spears pinching your arm. I was staring at her face and saying, “ouch, ouch” biting my lip at the same time. Supposedly the audience is watching me fart fire, but I can see none of this. It occurs to me psychologically I shouldn’t look at Britney while hurting or I could lose the good associations with her. The pain subsides, she’s let me go.

The audience cheers. I’m scared she’ll just shake my hand and leave. She does shake my hand and says, “thank you.” Britney smiles and hugs me; the last thing remembered is the feeling of Britney’s forehead brushing my neck.

* Upon waking the first thing I think is, “Oh, now I have to write that down.” I still ‘feel’ the spot her forehead “was” moments ago.


 
 
  Moral:
Britney is cute. I have this vision of her being this nice performer. She’s fallen somewhat from the top, even to me. No doubt marring “Some guy” wasn’t the hottest thing she could do or best way to keep me a happy fan. But deep down, you got to like that girl.


Prequel:

My brother is into Hip Hop. The leader of his band, a black woman is telling him he’s got to make some mess and break some stuff to move forward. She is saying this in my room with my computer there. I say, “No! No you don’t, you don’t want to mess me. Did you see what happened to my mom?”

Prequel Mom: Driving through the green field. All I remember is hitting my mom’s hand and putting it into a cast.

March 12 2005
 

 


 


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