EOYD #3: Levels of Discourse

There seem to be some recurring themes recently to my dreams, such as travel and Senior Week. Not all that outlandish, I suppose. Before I woke up in the middle of the night:

– I was in Bermuda with some other people in an urban area with a gridded street system and all the streets had at least 4 lanes and the crossing lights were just bright white light bulbs rather than walker symbols. We had to cross a lot of streets. In reality there are no streets like this in Bermuda. Maybe I was thinking of Front St in Hamilton, which is about as built-up as it gets.

– I was in Switzerland on a cloudy, scuddy day at the base of a cablecar station; it seemed to be in the Hoher Kasten area because I have this lingering impression of the scene being in Appenzell and the bordering mountains rising up directly to the east. I think I have begun to re-constitute previous nights’ dream material because of writing about it and remembering it.

– My dad was driving a coach bus full of Williams people, including me, and we had to do a fire drill around twilight. We pulled up to a fire-drill pitstop area of the highway (and at this point my POV was third-person so I was watching this from diagonally above) but it was already totally full of other buses doing fire drills, so we just headed on and I think it was at that point that we decided to just evacuate the bus for the night instead and take shelter in a library. The quarters were pretty close because we were in a room (the library had modern interior style with midtone wood furniture and beige carpeting) with an array of large tables in addition to the bookshelving and we had to kind of fit on the floor between & underneath the tables.

– I was working on a language called Herb while in the bathroom.

After I woke up in the middle of the night was when the conceptually really interesting stuff started happening, because in a subsequent dream I started (META ALERT) to enumerate the stuff I’d just previously dreamt about in my head so that I could remember it to write it down here. But I was definitely dreaming about doing that, because I was simultaneously walking in the early morning in a small city to a coffeeshop for breakfast with some Williams friends and improvising some floaty hopscotch-like moves on the concrete sidewalk.

Then I was in some largish dark wood room a little before 10:00, I know it was, because they were offering breakfast pastries at the west end of the room for just a few more minutes (strongly backlit by a window; kind of the same high-contrast light impression as my garage attic). I sat on a large table with people including Surekha and Lisetta and I was like “Waiiit a minute… you were in Mississippi just yesterday!” Which was true, but Lisetta had flown back to finish Senior Week after having been there for just two days. Subsequently, people were hanging around outside (seemed like the parking lot of my high school) waiting to go to a formal dance. (Must have been Mt. Hope. Again.) I hadn’t changed yet out of my street clothes because I was busy writing up my dreams in pen (specifically, the bus story) on my poncho. The pen wasn’t writing too great on the plastic. I must have given up cuz then I hurried back into Currier, down the central flight of stairs, and up and down the multiple little nitpicky flights to get to my hallway (obviously a wry satirization of the ridiculous circulation of real-life Currier). Once I got there I walked by Tough A entering his room, which was right next to mine, just as Rogo was right next to me in Prospect, and of course the transposition makes sense since they’re both firefighting runners. And that was about it.

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