Tuesday, July 26, 2022

Much

Lucid Dream (yay!): I am in the lobby of a big office building when I realize I am dreaming. I walking into the elevator, decide that my office is on the 20th floor. I arrive on the floor and decide that it is a big corner office. I look at the through each of the first three corners of the floor and they are occupied. I start to worry -- am I not in control here? But the fourth corner has a giant, high-ceilinged space under construction. I am sitting at a table in the middle of the space. I note that the view is not that great -- an urban cityscape with warehouse-like buildings. There are three women sitting with me, two of them are younger, one is older and seems to be my admin. I note a space with a desk where I assume she will sit eventually, once this office is finished. We are discussing a supply chain for something we will manufacture. I don't know what it is, but I am trying to find out what will happen if we have to manufacture one of the components ourselves instead of outsourcing it. I ask the woman to my right and then we get distracted and then I ask the question again. This happens a few times. Eventually we seem to figure out an answer. While we are talking a wall goes in on my left -- the space seems much less open after that. I am at A's house in Bellingham. Her older sister is there -- we do an awkward, back to back, COVID hug. I am talking to her step-father. His hair is long, it has been dyed purple some point in the past, but now his roots are showing. He is working in some sort of pop-up factory manufacturing cars. He tells me the details, they are interesting. We are all sitting down to dinner, a big table with family.

Saturday, July 23, 2022

Renew

A wedding. I look at the program; they are using "If You Lived Here" as a song during the ceremony. Odd choice, I think. I will be singing a phrase from the song during the ceremony. It starts in the middle of the line, and I wonder how the rhythm will work out. On another program, folded into a three-sided table tent, I see they have printed the first part of the line so that everyone will know that I (we?) are to start in the middle of the phrase. I am looking for a seat. It's like the balcony of a theater -- highly raked seating -- and also like a cafeteria where you don't know anyone well enough to sit with them. Patches of people I knew in middle or high school are scattered around.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Spiders

Huge spiders are everywhere. I go with a jar to try and trap one and put it outside. Its thorax turns out to be some sort of spring-trap: when I got near it, it bursts and it shoots some kind of shrapnel into my left hand. I look at the wounds and see that there are large green seeds embedded in my hand. I start to work them out with my other hand--there are many in a wound just below the joint of my left thumb. When I have worked several of them out, I realize that my thumb is now only attached to my hand by a small flap of skin. I will need to go to the emergency room. I am trying not to panic.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Finding Moses in the reeds

On a dark, rocky shore, waiting with someone for my baby son to arrive. We were expecting the boat long ago, but it hasn't arrived, and my companion decides to leave. I consider it, but eventually decide to stay. I go up higher for a better view of the entire bay, so as to see the boat if it comes. Eventually I see it and go down to meet it--I'm either in the water or in another boat which swamps as I meet the incoming rowboat and am handed my son. He is enormous, and I have a moment where I am worried that he looks unusual and unlike his picture, but soon I see that no, that is indeed he.

In a very small elevator with two other people, I pray that we do not get stuck, as I am at risk of having an attack of claustrophobia.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Travels

I am a guest at someone's house, there are several people there. I realize that I have been pretending to be blind and therefore must continue to keep up the illusion. I try to think of reasons to explain why I can move around so well despite the fact that I can't see.

Going to the airport, driving down roads in Alaska. At the airport, from the parking lot, I get in line for some sort of pod-like shuttle system, wherein one person is able to get in the shuttle car at a time--it reminds me of the futuristic public transportation designs that were once described to me by D. When my shuttle comes, it's a Segway. I get on and ride around, testing out the servo motors that keep it upright. It's faster, and more wobbly, than I would have expected. I ride up a flight of stairs in it.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Threads

I arrive at A.'s house, having (I thought) been invited to an after dinner party with her parents and family. But they are playing some sort of game and they are about to go out to a restaurant. I have already eaten, I say. I feel kind of awkward, but didn't they invite me over in the first place? They seem to want me to come with them,  maybe I can get a glass of wine and some hors d'oeuvres while they eat. 

In a large vehicle on the way, we are crossing some sort of flooded creek. In front of us, another SUV hits a bump, takes an awkward turn, and suddenly disappears down into a sink hole. I jump out of the car to the edge of the sink hole, people from other cars come to help as well. In the back seat, the passengers seem to be able to extract themselves--it seems better if they can move themselves than if I try to grab them and pull them out. As they are escaping, we move to the passengers in the front seat to see what sort of state they are in.

I'm working on a science project for school. It involves using a machine to allow I. to lift the front of my car easily, even though she is small and the car is very heavy. Also the solution to a quadratic equation is involved. It is the day the project is due--I get to school realizing that while I started the project, it isn't quite ready, and more importantly I haven't done the write-up. I dash to a computer--there are 45 minutes before the first bell, maybe I can dash it off? I wake up--thank goodness, there is no paper actually due. I drift back to sleep, and I'm right back in front of the computer, and the paper is again due. No, I tell myself--this isn't real. 

I'm driving somewhere, but I'm not paying any attention at all and I miss a turn off the highway, and have to go around. I wind up on the bus, I am going to the Colman docks to catch the ferry as part of a school trip--I'm a younger man, student-aged, now. I get off the bus at the terminal, and suddenly realize I've left my luggage for the trip on the bus. Now I won't be able to go. I go to the Metro office, and tell the woman I've left my bag on a bus and I have to get on a ferry, is there any way I can get it back. She seems friendly and helpful, writes down the description and color of the bag (I say it is true black, she writes down blue/black, I correct her), and asks if I can be a good lad and wait. I say I can indeed be good, though I might try and find something to read, like a Stranger. As I'm waiting, I notice that I've warn loafers, which aren't good shoes for a trip to an island. Oh well, that seems like the least of my problems at the moment. I wait. A bag comes in that isn't mind. I wait. The woman comes up to me, she's holding my bag! She is very pleased with herself and I am very happy. I will get to go on the trip after all.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Restart

I have to have some sort of surgical procedure done to my right hand. M. is in the room and has just had it done, his entire hand is wrapped up in a big white bundle of tape and gauze. The procedure seems to involve a rotating saw and I tell the doctor I don't know if I can handle it. He admits it is intense. It turns out the saw is actually some kind of sander and the procedure sands down my nails, and the surface of my fingertips down to near the bone--the doctor does it a finger at a time and it doesn't hurt at all. I remark that it will be awhile before I play the guitar again.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

I Have Crossed The River Styx

In a large, open, room with very square, concrete-like walls and edges. A canal or river runs through the middle of the room. I am on the far side of the canal, having already crossed it, and kneeling over my backpack of supplies packing up for the next part of the trip. My team is around me. Behind me is a doorway with a stairway leading downwards. I realize that I have a blind-spot up and to my right, that up there is something mysterious and important, but something that I, for now, have to deal with not being able to see, and something that I have to trust will be okay.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Opportunities Missed

Working late. At some point I stop working and start watching t.v., though it's somehow still related to work. A. is there, at some point she starts leaning against me and watching television, too. I'm not sure that what she's doing is okay, but I don't say anything. I am aware that it's late and I should go home. L. calls, she says, where have you been? There was an XTC concert today, she continues, and I ended up going without you. It was awesome, she says. I vaguely remember seeing this somewhere, and now can't believe I forgot about it--XTC doesn't tour anymore, so to see them live is incredibly rare. I am really upset that I missed it.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

The Hipster Scene

I'm at a house party with musicians from the local scene. One of them introduces himself to me as Chris or Krist or something, he shows me a routine he used to do where he dances backwards while playing the violin. It is funny and impressive. Later, I am walking home, talking on the cell phone to L. and telling her about the party and meeting this guy. I am wondering if he was actually a member of Nirvana...wasn't the bassist named Krist or something like that? I'm in Bellingham, on 16th, and then walking up the hill to the alley behind my parent's house. I am still talking to L. as I come up to the back driveway. Just as I reach it, a body falls from the sky right in front of me and lands on the cement with a sickening thud. Oh my god, did you see that? gasps L. (apparently watching for me out one of the back windows). I realize it is Amy. Amy, what happened, are you all right? I ask. I move to help her, but she gets up on her own, says nothing, and walks dazedly off the other way down the alley.