Heath Ledger's Harem Compound

I arrive a little groggy from my flight to California/Australia and a nice Swiss girl welcomes me into the compound. She is smiley in the foyer, but as soon as we're in the hallway, she drops the ruse and I feel that there is something unusual going on here in Heath Ledger's harem-compound. She takes my bags and tells me about where everything is located. We walk to the pool house and she says that one of the girls is only getting paid minimum wage and that Heath is "pretty kooky." There are parrots and monkeys chattering. On our first date, Heath hands me an envelope. I set it next to the ice/wine in the kitchen. I see a bulletin board where there are pictures of girls I've seen walking around the compound. I see a different board with my picture on it. I'm not in the same "league" as the swiss girl, definitely, but that's ok. Heath is kooky. He's 45 now. He's tan. His hair is uncombed. His passions are...unbridled. I start to feel tender about Heath. He seems to feel tender about me. I'm getting paid...much more than minimum wage. I leave for the night feeling alright about it all.

Between two houses

I started renting an apartment downtown. The only stipulation was that I had to keep the two chest freezers of food in the living room. Main market food- Digiorno's pizza, Haagen Das Ice cream. Though they weren't put there for my shopping convenience, (they had another purpose not made clear by my landlord) If I ate from them, I had to pay. I would never eat from them.

I took classmates to my two houses. We had our meeting at both the new and old house. A significant portion of the dream was going between my old house and new. This was not abnormal to any of my guests, but I felt very strange about it.

"Why don't I just move downtown?" I thought. "It's got a bunkbed. It's got windows. It's close to everything. I could even sell my bed. I could get ready to move to a bigger city!" I look around at the new house, which lacks any real character. I long wistfully for my old house, but with the wistful pangs comes a bitter sickness.

1. Remembering "paradise" 2. Cutting off my own legs

1.
I see her from afar and it's not that long after her wedding. She still looks glamourous, and I sit beside her, or perhaps on her lap. We are on a moving thing, a tractor, or a car? She says "do you know what I'm drinking?" I say "Yes, a paradise...it's grenadine, aperol, and orange juice."

2.
I am fed up with it. I cut off my legs: by which I mean I take a knife and cut through the flesh on my thighs above my knees down to the bone, and through the bone, in a though-butter-like cut. Then I jump in the water, a pool, probably. The blood is not really flowing out. I reach out and grab calves that had been floating around in a mild panic and think "no, I think actually I need these!" I kind of just put them back onto my body.

It doesn't hurt all that much, but I feel ashamed that I cut off my own body. I walk around going to different places. B says that I did a good job and we do shots at an old western/Mexican cantina. Isa says that there are lots of things that she has to tie up! I have scars that ring around each thigh like low-slung garters.