Monthly Archives: January 2009

night sledding

The only dream I still remember clearly from last night is that I was at a sledding hill at night with a fairly large group of friends; it was a steep and medium-distance south-facing hill, with another slope facing it across the valley. The snow was good and it was a fun run, but I noticed once returned to the top of the hill after my first descent, and as others were sledding down, that the run went right across a small road that went along the valley, which made my apprehensive about sledding there anymore. There was maybe a house at the base of the hill as well, off to the right of the run.

highway gathering

Hmm, yet again midnight. Pretty soon it will be implicit. Anyway, the dream I remember from last night is that I was walking home on a sunny morning along North Rd, turned right, then continued on along a pretty big and open east-west highway. Just after I crossed a highway exit, lots of cars suddenly started arriving and parking on the grassy leftover strip of land I was walking along, and I had to dodge some of them. It turned out to be a Christian prayer gathering. Eventually a bunch of Wms (I think) people and I gathered under the roof of a park pole barn adjacent and did some singing and chanting, not intending to be inconsiderate to the prayer group but just having a good time, and I think we got shushed a bit.


Well, it’s basically tomorrow already, yet here we are from last night:

  • I was in Minneapolis for some reason, going between a suburb several miles to its north, which was by an estuary in the sea that lay further to the north (a large dynamic map showed the situation). We stopped in at a Mexican-ish fast-food restaurant at dusk while driving south from the suburb to downtown, and I got a dish comprising large noodles with melted cheese and salsa or tomato sauce. Stick-to-the-ribs.
  • I was in my bedroom in a fusion of Medford and Hancock; it was a bright sunny morning, I’d just gotten up, and I was hailed by a set of Wms friends who were on the street outside and were walking to breakfast in Brighton. I tried to get ready fast enough to join them.
  • Possibly in the same scene, I had a dove in my room who lived in a cage that either had been Borne’s or was very similar; the dove had somewhat lighter plumage than Borne but looked very similar otherwise, and was quite affectionate, with a propensity to go into cooing and wing-tapping whenever petted.
  • At another point, it was a very gray day, and I was outside a Victorian-looking mansard-roofed but stucco-walled mansion, to its northwest, looking toward its north-facing entrance. There were some tall leafless (I think) trees around. I had a (safety-action) staplegun and aimed and fired it at the mansion several times; sometimes the staple hit the mansion on the upper reaches of the wall, with a small clatter, and sometimes it fell short in an over-steep parabola.

a.k.o. mass transit

This will be quick since it’s bedtime again now. Anyway:

  • I was staying in a one-story house that was long in the north-south direction; it was sort of like a long cabin, rustic and with a roof pitched about 45°. It was on a partly wooded, rural site, rather like the RL cabin in Maine, but just to the east, a few yards away, was a highway, also running north to south, and then on the other side was a major urban train station, seemingly inside a street block. Train tracks came out from the station, crossed the road, went through the house and out the other side and then curved quickly around toward the south. I didn’t think it was active, but then (it was a late summer afternoon) trains (Orange Line trains from the T) started coming through from the station every so often. This appeared to be a new connection, a more direct one to another station nearby, in order to ease commuter congestion.
  • At another point, it was twilight in the warm season and I was at a different — but possibly the same at some point — large train station, which was a big glazed, convexly curved building about 50′ tall. It sat on the north side of an east-west road, near an intersection with a perpendicular road to the west. It was a seemingly sprawl-zone site, and yet it was a major hub, for the Red Line (of the T again), the Orange Line, and maybe more lines. The grounds around it were all a luscious green lawn. I also recall there being some monkey bars or something on a tiny adjacent lot, and I was propelling myself unrealistically high into the air while swinging on them. I was also vexed that the small lot had just been sold to a guy who maybe wanted to put a house on it. There was maybe a little, though tall, white house at the north end of the lot already.
  • I was riding southbound on a schoolbus at night or late dusk; it was mostly dark inside it except for the back compartment, which lacked seats and was brightly lit by fluorescent lights, the light of which spilled forward to some degree. I think there were WU friends on the bus too, but it wasn’t at all full, and was maybe a short bus; I was wandering between the back area and the seats. There was some issue floating around about Karin Dreijer Andersson (of the Knife) and her son (don’t know if she has children IRL), too, maybe they were there or maybe someone was just talking about them. The memory was vague as soon as I woke up.


At one point I was riding north on a sidewalk in what seemed to be some sort of carriage, because it was open yet fairly high off the ground, with (I think) my parents, on a bustling shoppingy street of a mid-sized town called Cape Cod, that was maybe in Virginia. I ascertained that it was called Cape Cod because of the businesses that had Cape Cod in their names? It was an overcast but pleasant spring or summer day. Later, I was catching the T from Cape Cod to Newton Center, and the T entrance was in a building on the outside corner of where an eastward street turned north to become the street we were on before; at that point it was a sunny late afternoon.

A different scene was another transportation-centered one, where I was with some Wms and WU friends; we got into a curious floating, smallish wheelless wagon that had a semi-circular base and roof, some seats, and handles at the front and back, and was made of thick aluminum; it took us along a street (that seemed to be in LA), by an interesting modern-style housing project that was all white and black rectangular volumes, some of which bridged over upstairs open areas, and which looked really great lit with some warm light against the blue twilight. The far end of the housing had a weird kind of ornament that was a twisty frame of round white tubing infilled with translucent panels, and this morphed into a high-speed sort of railway near the ground that we got onto and that took us on a crazy curved path around a park/playground next to a woods (this might have been an interpretation of the MetroLink curve west of Clayton) (by this time it was mid-morning with a semi-dim sun) and then westward over a vista of deeply carved-out mesas and canyons with sediment layers of a wide range of earthy colors in far-southern Illinois.


Finally I remember something and all it took was tatting for an hour in the middle of the night. Anyway, there was this large dank cellar in a building that I and some other people were in (lit with fluorescent light like the cellar of our RL house), and on the north edge of it was a semicircular alcove that seemed really corroded, earthy, and wet. There was an exit through the alcove, toward the left side, but it had been almost entirely blocked off by a slab of similar rusty/earthy material. Later, I was in a large atrium sort of space in a building at Williams or WU or somewhere, which reached up through multiple floors and the walls of which were mostly composed of wood and glass. The western side faced out to an outdoor quad, the northern side was “behind the camera,” the eastern side bordered the multiple floors, and the base of the southern side was the blocked exit of the aforementioned cellar. It was twilight, moving into night, and the atrium was mostly lit near the base with white light, with some warmer light coming from small point lights around the ceiling. The floor of the atrium was rusty/earthy/rocky and there was a sort of stream flowing through it, which I think was the Los Angeles River, and it came from or went into the cellar. I accidentally floated up from the floor and got near the ceiling before I slowed down and was able to gain control and get back down to the floor.

After that, I was with some friends in a city somewhere and we went into a CVS-type store in a brick shopping plaza, and I think one of them wanted to shoplift something small, which I didn’t approve of, but I didn’t say anything because outright discussion would have brought suspicion down on all of us. Subsequently I was manning the cash register right by the entrance, and I gave a customer back $20, and he was supposed to give me some change back to bring the total return to $19-something, but he didn’t. All kinds of shady happenings.

The final thing I remember is of putting some spindly wooden Martin-Puryear-like gears together into a bicycle- or engine-like contraption, which then soared up into the brisk, windy, overcast sky over our field, and I along with it. Much more fantastic to recall than it seemed to be while it was happening.