Monthly Archives: June 2008

wax paper sidewalk

Well, sharp vexations, here I am for the third time in a row only getting to this late at night. Some interesting dreams last night:

  • I was looking east at the west end of a flat, rectangular town square or street (in the US somewhere) on a wintry midday, maybe actually from inside a building; it was snowing hard, and the clouds were low and scudding and moving fast, but were full of gaps so that the sun was often out despite the snowing; it was a gale-force north wind. The front of the building on the south side of the square, which included some sort of steeple but was mostly flush all the way up, began to give way in the wind, racking back and forth quickly, and eventually perhaps the steeple collapsed and window panels peeled away. I remember being awed in an entertained way rather than a fearful way, and thinking about what we’d learned in Structures about lateral loads such as wind.
  • Around WU, probably on the south side of Forsyth, an enormous roll of wax paper had been laid down, covering the sidewalk exactly. I proceeded, on an afternoon, to do the crawlstroke going east on the sidewalk just because the low friction of the wax paper allowed me to. Perhaps in the same scene, I looked up high in the sky toward the west and there were some large, diffuse clouds, but they were giving way to a spectacularly starry firmament. There was still glowing daylight in the southwest. An airplane went by, low to the ground so that it appeared large, although it was behind the clouds — so maybe it was actually enormous. I caught sight of a few meteors as well.
  • I was doing Structures homework, which filled the view of my mind’s eye, but in the vicinity were some friends who were talking and joking around, and I also seemed to be making a sandwich, which was in view in front of the homework paper; it involved slices of tomato between layers of sliced onions, and maybe olive oil, and presumably something proteinaceous. There was standing water in a dent in the top piece of bread in the bag. That was kind of gross.

thunderstorm snowstorm

Well here I am cutting further into tonight’s sleep by writing about my dreams of two nights ago plus a nap yesterday (two days ago) afternoon, when I woke up at 7:43 and was hella worried it was 7:43 AM for a bit.

In the aforementioned night, I dreamed that I was in the NH house with my parents, at nighttime, but it was in a dense, bricky STL neighborhood, and maybe it actually had more built space on top of it. There was a line of thunderstorms arriving — I had been checking the radar out on a touchscreen-like handheld computer display on the sunporch, and I could see the scattered storms moving along towards us. There seemed to be a lightning-related fire in the immediate area, perhaps in the upper area of an adjacent building, though there was no direct physical sign of it, because emergency personnel were gathering up there, with a searchlight shining on the upper reaches of the adjacent building, and loudspeaker announcements audible. One announcement was a plea to help accommodate fire victims by letting them into our homes, and charitably, we promptly went around the house to make sure all the doors were locked. The house had a north porchlike room, unlike IRL, in an olive color, that was part of our rounds (there were a couple more doors to deal with than the RL number of 5). I returned to the sunporch to lock its door and now looked out to the normal NH surroundings, with multiple trucks pulling through the driveway and such as a cougar perched on the wooden bench in the backyard, with one or two front legs standing up on the back of the bench. At that point there was a modicum of gray daylight from the southwest.

In the nap, I dreamt about possibly Mission Park dorm at Williams, but it had a tall, cavernous, dark brown (on the interior), facet-faced rec room on the south (RL east) end, lit from the east and west, on an overcast day. Filling a large part of the floor space of the room was a human slingshot machine where you would climb (or fall) into a basin that sloped down, opening into a covered part of the machine, and you would be snagged by some rubber straps that would impel you through the machine and whip you out the other end, into a lower basin. This, somehow, was a fun thing, quite non-injurious, even though it seemed like it would just be whipping people against a wall with fatal force. ANYWAY, later I was in and/or around a large, old, gray, paintpeely house on the site of the RL NH house -— it was boxy in plan and was maybe close to Federal style, and maybe about four full floors tall. Again it was a gray day, but it was a blustery, wintry, snowy day, with fast-moving, scudding low clouds. There was a small plane in the sky (maybe more than one) that we wanted to get to land to wait out the inclemency of the weather, and it landed, with a very short taxiing distance, near the asparagus, in the field, southwest from the house. At that point it was instead a sunny (reduced by altostratus) late morning, and my dad (who had helped signal the plane during landing) and I checked out the plane up close, whether with the pilot around I forget, but anyway it was of a glittery blue color. We took a look at the engine. There was some connection with family history, like maybe the pilot was a relative or the situation related to a historical incident.

Also, there were influences from WALL·E happening, the specifics of which I’ve forgotten, since I had just watched some clips and trailers from it before the nap. Slanching off on a tangent from this blog’s premise for a rare instant, I’ve got to say that I’m pretty excited to see the movie — to me it seems to have a musical analogue in experimental pop, like Brian Eno’s early solo albums that use a pop framework (here, Pixar) to explore sonic and lyrical frontiers (or, here, an eco-apocalyptic vision). Also, Wall-E is such a visually affecting character just by the way the outline of his eye-appendages make him look like he’s always doing sad-eyebrows (you know… circumflex eyebrows, rather than angry hacek eyebrows).

blue blazes

A few pieces from last night — there were a lot more floating around yesterday morning as I was in the waking-up haze, but they faded, leaving only these:

  • I was at a place that recurs in my dreams, and aware of the fact that it was a recurring place: a patch of woods up on the summit of a hill that Duncan Rd went over (invariably different from RL) that sometimes seems to divide the road; but this time it was a very small stand of trees and it was quasi-inside a library. (I was also aware of this contrast from its usual state.) I think I was on a run and had paused in the stacks for a bit, maybe to look at books, and was about to set off again. It seemed to be earlyish morning, about 8AM, and sunny. The library was more enclosed on the north side than the south side (the stacks were on the north side of the trees), though the boundaries were vague. Also there was a fantastical map, or perhaps a series of them, that were hand-painted by Kanye West, and I watched a video (although it seemed almost like I was actually there) of Kanye painting the first map in the series. There was some element of real-life countries being moved to a different location; he used careful, thick black lines for demarcating certain boundaries, and I noticed the elegant lettering. The colors were vivid yet subtle. I think I noticed some specific place names as well, but I’ve long since forgotten them.
  • I was on the ground floor of a 16th-century old wooden house somewhere else in Hancock, maybe at the northwest end of the Antrim/Mill Rd corner. Its level was a few steps down from the street level. I was in the eastern of two large spaces, this one low-ceilinged, the other high-ceilinged, that were almost entirely open to each other but for a beam separating them and possibly a slight change in floor level. Again, it was morning. I went out a door to the south (that led out onto the front yard or the street) and apparently it was only an emergency exit, because it set off an alarm, albeit a quiet one that was just an unabrasive tone repeated about once a second, although that frequency increased and decreased a few times in multiples. The door one was supposed to use was on the west side of the western half of the space, where a lot of sunlight was shining down from clerestory windows. Woods were on that side of the house, so there must have been a side path from the front yard to that door.
  • I was running westish on Rte 16 in Medford, between Auburn St and Boston Ave, on a late afternoon, and I took a right turn onto a rural-looking road that I figured would lead toward Arlington. It quite quickly turned into a hilly, rocky hiking trail in the forest that was marked by blue tree blazes. Other trails led away from it, one of them downhill to the northeast. The trail just kept going uphill, and I may have woken up out of it before I could decide what to do about that.

Table of Asia

From the previous night, going to bed right after I write this to start it all over:

  • I was looking at a bench, possibly to purchase, and the back folded down to make an arm like on the sides, and perhaps was matched by an arm that folded out in front. Anyway, I sat up on the bench, which was outside and facing south, while I looked to the sun, which was in the west with some gauzy clouds around it. I discovered that the bench allowed me to control the redness and blueness (independently from each other) of the sky and sun by shifting my arms and legs.
  • I was looking on Googmaps, apparently, at South America, and I noticed that the Andes narrowed and lowered down almost to a point at a northern location along the border between Chile and Argentina. I zoomed way in and discovered that this very low pass was a small square area called the “Table of Asia,” and there was a panorama view (like Street View, though that didn’t show up as an option) that allowed me to see that to the east and west were puddly and stony plains, while the mountains rising up to the north and south were occluded by large boulder piles at their bases.
  • I was at school with a bunch of classmates and we were working on homework that needed to be completed before the start of the semester. It was after dark, or maybe it was just a very dark afternoon. At one point a mattress was moved from one location to another, as had happened before the start of the previous school year, for some reason.


Snippet from a nap: It was mid-afternoon, partly sunny, possibly after a recent rain, probably spring or fall because the sun was fairly low, and there was some sort of event I was going to be involved with at 6PM in which everyone was supposed to make a window (maybe multiple windows), the mullions seemingly out of thickĀ PVC sheet and the panes maybe out of colored transparent (thickish, but thinner than the PVC) plastic. It got to be 4:30 because I was preoccupied with other things such as twirling a smallish window screen (like for a casement sash) around my finger and enjoying the precessions it made. So all of a sudden I realized I was pretty much out of time, and I rode my motorcycle (I don’t IRL have a motorcycle nor desire one) with a friend over to a shedlike building next to the church, which I think is where the window installation was going to be happening, and I parked the motorcycle (or SUV, as it had seemed to become) up too close to the shed for my friend to be able to get out of the vehicle easily, as it was hard to judge the extent of the front of it on the right side. Neal was there and we talked to him, and I don’t remember anything actually being resolved about the windowmaking.

puddly clearing

This is from last night and will look a day late, but Anyway. I only have some small vignettes in mind still, that are connected; both are part of a time when I was on a run through a wilderness area on a sunny late morning. At one point I was in a wide flat clearing surrounded by woods, although perhaps there was a view to the west, and the clearing was covered with low grass and had shallow puddles and pools of standing water, which I had to avoid as best I could while running in a generally northerly or northwesterly direction. I have the feeling that the clearing was a plateau, although the immediately surrounding woods were at the same level, and that in some places it might have been more limestoney than grassy, possibly in a manmade way, but all mostly in the same ground plane or thereabouts. The other part I remember is being in the woods — probably the woods adjacent to the clearing — and scuttling down through a small bouldery formation from a higher level to another level of the forest floor a couple of feet lower, toward the west.

The Commons

I should have typed this up earlier because now it’s grown vaguer than I would like, but anyway I dreamt (and it turned out to be a nested dream) that I was outside looking toward the west and noticed, beyond the normal natural landscape features, that there seemed to be something planetoid-like, tan earth-colored, a bit to the southwest. Indeed it turned out to be a nearby planetoid, and there may have been aliens around… later I woke up into an outer dream in which there was a family gathering at my house (I remember also being outside with my parents in the boatshop-garage area welcoming people there as they arrived), and I think I told someone about the inner dream, and he told me it sounded just like a science fiction movie called The Commons. I looked up The Commons in the Encyclopedia Americana set that we had upstairs — it was all out of order, for some reason — and didn’t find it.

5′ Clover

A couple of scenes from last night, connected together via some sort of travel narrative but not, I think, one right after the other:

  • I was sitting on the floor at the entrance of (later between two internal areas of) a great barn with living space either inside of or attached to it, on a cloudy day. I was looking at a photograph called 5′ Clover and the Double Clover Lane or something very similar, which indeed showed a field of 5′-high clover plants, which were tall and straight like cornstalks, but recognizable as clover because of the purple clover flowers, of which there were a sizable number on each stalk. The viewpoint was from the midst of the field, but there was a lane cut through the clover, receding to the right in the distance, that allowed passage through. In the foreground were a couple of clover stalks on each side that reached to the top of the picture frame, and at least the right-hand one was bent over to give a further arch-like frame to the picture. I was able to zoom out on the picture, possibly by doing the iPhone-style pinch motion, and to my surprise the camera angle shifted to looking straight down toward the ground, and I continued the zooming out till it was the scale of a satellite image. I endeavored to figure out from the satellite image where the picture was, and by rotating it I recognized the area as the part of Canton St. Gallen east of Appenzell and west of the Rhine.
  • I was with a group of other people whom I’d been traveling with — at a convenience store earlier, I had bought something made out of cupcakes that was really cheap, but apparently everyone liked it when they tried it — and we were in another sort of barn-like building (in that it was made of rustic wood) with a sort of auditorium setup, where there was an orchestra in a pit facing south, and then directly above them were rows of audience seating — so that part of the audience couldn’t actually see the orchestra — and in front of these was a flat floor, intermediate in vertical level between the pit and the seats above. I and my group were on this flat floor, maybe at a picnic table. There were a number of people there, but far fewer than in the seats above. Because the orchestra’s conductor’s wrist was injured, a couple of other people (who were on the flat floor) tried to conduct in turn, but the lead-ins never worked quite right. In the seats above were a bunch of newly graduated ’08s (congrats IRL, guys), and the audience up there seemed to be more talking amongst themselves than listening to the orchestra, which didn’t seem to bother anyone else — it was like two entirely different things were happening in the same place. The pit and seats were lit by, or possibly open to, the outside (it was during the day), while the flat floor was covered by a roof and the walls had no windows, so only the daylight coming from the pit & seats area illuminated it. And beyond the pit and seats, to the north, was another interior wood-finished space that was open to the front, but seemed to be lit inside by artificial light, because the light coming from it was a very warm glow.