I was at some house, possibly my family's house. My mom seemed to be getting her taxes in order so she could file them. I had apparently been getting my taxes in order, too.
But now my mom asked me to give her one of my W2s. She said she needed it for her forms, as she was claiming me on her taxes. I realized I had been spending time living with her over the past year. But it had been less than three months. I didn't think that was enough time for her to be able to claim me on her tax form.
But my mom insisted. She showed me her tax forms. They were like long, green pieces of construction paper with writing on them in purple crayon. The crayon showed simple mathematical calculations. But a lot of them had to do with me. Many of them were trying to prove that I had lived with my mom since 2006.
I was shocked. I knew that if I had to give my mom information for her taxes, that would mess up what I needed to do for my taxes. That's why I didn't want her to claim me as a dependent. But if she had been claiming me since 2006, it would really end up coming back to me in a really bad way! How could my mom have done this to me!
I yelled and screamed at my mom. But she didn't think she'd done anything wrong. She said I was being really ungrateful to her by acting this way. I knew there was no point in yelling at my mom. So I went into the basement, apparently where my bedroom was.
I was getting all my tax documentation together. I was going to file my own taxes right away, the way I'd planned to do them before. But now I got angry at my mom all over again. I began yelling and screaming all kinds of nasty things about her.
I got control of my emotions and walked out of the bedroom. There was a big main area in the basement. I walked through that area into another area, which was my mom's bedroom. My brother stood right on the threshold of that area.
The bedroom was very big, but very dim, like it was lit with only a few candles or a few very small lights. My mom sat at a computer. She was surrounded by a few young men. The men were all looking at whatever she was doing on the computer with a sense of hope.
My brother said my mom was going to let him have a turn on the computer next. I realized that my mom was controlling computer usage, as well as other aspects of life, for my brother and the other men in her room.
I got angry again and yelled and screamed that my mom had managed to get my brother into a position where she had complete control over him.
I now had a view of something like a forest or a jungle. Some George of the Jungle kind of guy was swinging through the jungle. But I could barely see him. Somehow I was comparing my mom to the George of the Jungle guy.
I was outside a house at night. It was a cool, dewy night, and the moon was full in the sky. The house was gently lit. But it was almost like it was lit by stage light, like in a movie.
I was standing outside with a couple young adults. I was just near the foot of the staircase leading up to the covered porch of the house. The others sat on a little ledge on the covered porch. One or two of the people had left. A couple women remained.
We were somehow passing a book back and and forth to each other. It was a big, kind of thin, photography book. The book was about people whose lives had been ruined by meth usage. It had some specific angle to it. All the photos were either by or of famou artists who had been meth addicts, I think.
Somehow we got really interested in a section on Kurt Cobain (? - I don't think he was on meth). The first photograph in his section was of some kind of Buddhist sculpture, like of a fat, grinning, shirtless man wearing some kind of flowing skirt or pants.
I was now standing out on the grounds of what was apparently Kurt Cobain's estate. It was like a college campus, but it was all his house. The buildings were all red brick, with grey-white concrete or stone trim and grey-white concrete or stone columns.
It was a grey, dewy morning. There were a few young people all around the buildings. These people were all here kind of like they were at a party. Everybody was really calm. But I also had the feeling that these people were all drug addicts as well, and that they stood a chance of getting really rowdy.
Somehow I got really transfixed by the sculpture all over the place. Something about the sculpture had a very Buddhist look. But all the sculpture seemed to be defaced.
I may have been walking with one or two other people. They may have led me into one of the buildings. This building was set up like a small sculpture museum. There was really lovely sculpture all over the place. It all had a look like very old, stone, Buddhist sculpture. But it seemed to be made out of white marble, like 18th century French sculpture. And it was also all defaced. It was like the surfaces had been smashed and then rubbed smooth, or just rubbed smooth.
I walked back outside. There was another really fascinating sculpture near a light fixture on a column. This at first looked to me like a fat, bald man sitting and grinning widely.
I wondered, as I looked at the sculpture, why Kurt Cobain had been so into Buddhist sculpture. But as I wondered this, the sculpture changed into the sculpture of a snake's head. The snake's head then became defaced, like the others -- like it had been smashed and then rubbed smooth.
I turned to my right and walked into some small garden between buildings. There were a few young adults hanging around there, lithely relaxing. I was a little afraid of them. They seemed so calm right now. But I was afraid they'd become really rowdy really soon.
I noticed, right at the edge of the covered porch for the next building, a sculpture of a young girl lying on her back. The sculpture was really beautiful and erotic. The girl seemed to be in some kind of death throws. But her hair was all tossed out, and her back was all arched, so that she looked really sexual.
There were other sculptures, all kind of similar, forming a trail along the corner of the covered porch. Some of the sculptures were bigger, and some were of mature women, rather than girls. But they were all of females laying stretched out in some kind of death ecstasy.
I looked past the covered porch, where this trail of women seemed to lead. Just beyond the porch were some dewy evergreen trees and shrubs. Beyond them was a big lawn under a grey sky.
I could only partly see the lawn. But it appeared that the trail of women led to a sculpture of what appeared to be a pile of dead or dying people. The sculpture seemed to be in tact. It was big, possibly of marble. But it was weathered so that it had black and grey colors added to it.
Past this sculpture of the mound of dead or dying stood a sculpture of a crucifix. The crucifix may have been seven or eight meters tall. The style of the crucifix was kind of minimalist and modern. But the sculpture of Christ himself was of an older, more realistic style.