Monthly Archives: June 2009

Barcelona scenes

A few snippets from last night, all more or less in Barcelona, all on a sunny mid-to-late afternoon, probably not in chronological order:

  • I picked up a special student edition of Keene Sentinel with a really elongated, wordy title that took up most of the top half of the front page; inside (which I saw before the front page) were a lot of pieces having to do with American government and the Founding Fathers, it seems;
  • in an art museum, a performance artist in brushed-metal armor comprising ribs that looked somewhat like a dinosaur skeleton, except they were flattened out to about a 1″x3″ cross section, walked on the ceiling;
  • there was an amusement park roller coaster along the city’s port promenade, which was grassier than IRL, and I realized it was an area of the east side of the ski slope of Jiminy Peak;
  • other stuff took place in a fusion between the eastern corner of Plaza Reial, where Carrer Nou de Sant Francesc starts, and fields and the woods bordering them, like Stone Hill in Williamstown. I think the aforementioned newspaper was there.

Thus ends the 3-year anniversary month of the JDDJ, with what must be the highest monthly volume of entries in quite a while. Barcelona: City of Dreams. Edit: Yes, in fact this (12) is the most entries of any month since November 2006. October 2006 holds the nigh-unbeatable record of 25 entries. Let’s see what’s in store coming up, though.

toast quest

Last night had some oddities:

  • I was in a big transit station or port or market or something like that, at any rate a big roofed but unwalled place, and somehow my head had been broken open and I was holding some bits of my brain. There didn’t seem to be any adverse effects, though, in terms of my mental capacity, nor did I notice any bleeding or pain or anything. I tried to get an ambulance via 112, as the brain pieces started hardening much like rigid foam insulation solidifies after being sprayed, and eventually an ambulance pulled up, but they took someone else into it and left me there. I was hopping mad at that point because it seemed like the brain pieces were hardening too much to stay viable. I don’t think the situation got resolved.
  • At another point, I was with the general public on a train with a cream-yellow interior with sunken floor areas by the doors that was heading northeast out of Barcelona on a gray drizzly day. It stopped at the next local station, the name of which started with O and had six letters, and I wanted to go to the bathroom but had to wait, of course, until it left the station.
  • Somewhere in a rather dark interior, maybe a corruption by my mind of the back of the Boqueria market, I was taking part in some sort of lunch competition, where I and a bunch of other people were making lunch dishes. I made a sandwich out of hamburger rolls and garlic butter; it may have been a triple-decker. We put the dishes in a row along the front of a sort of raised stage-like area with stage-like lights shining down on it. Although my intent was to toast my sandwich before consumption (although I took a bite of it raw anyway, which I realized was somewhat of a mistake), I somehow got it into someone else’s pot of savory soup. This was remedied when, in the passenger seat of a car at the edge of a parking lot at night, with some street or building lights shining in faintly, I put the sandwich into a toaster oven whose tiny door was in the ad space of a newspaper I was holding. The toaster was also in a different dimension because the back of the newspaper was normal.


Finally, from last night: the first thing I remember is that my dad and I were driving around in the Saab during late twilight, in an industrial park where the warehouses and containers were of multifarious multi deep saturated colors (probably inspired by the RL Barcelona port); there were downsloping dead ends and fences all around. We were trying to find the way out, and eventually rolled down a concrete slope and off a bit of a ledge at the northwest edge of the park to the open plain around it; one of the headlights cracked a little but that seemed to be unconcerning.

At another point, I was in a long house, running roughly north-south, the inside of which was submerged, intentionally, in about one meter of water; a number of people were there, maybe of an extended family, and they and I were all walking through the water with no concern. The surroundings outside were, I think, an open rocky plain, like the top of a mountain but stretched out to the whole flat landscape; the weather was maybe mostly cloudy. Just north of the house, there was a pair of infrared heaters mounted on tall poles, separated by about 20′, and they were pointed down at the north side of the house. I could clearly feel their radiation when I walked through its path.

In the same kind of landscape, but maybe not at the house, I was with WU people, some of the BCN group, some not; it was midday, with light-gray thin-cloud sunlight. I was trying out a skateboard and some rollerblades; I couldn’t figure out how to put the skateboard wheels in after taking the black plastic safety caps (which I initially thought were wheels until seeing that they didn’t rotate smoothly — they looked like the ineffective species of hard-plastic suitcase wheels) off the axles — there were some spring and spacer components that went inside the axles and I didn’t have the patience to figure it all out. That is all I remember.


From two days ago: I only remembered a couple of (probably related) snippets of the naptime dreams upon writing them down just afters. First, I was on the south side of a largish town on the east-facing slope of a mountain, standing on the sidewalk of a street that was higher up than most of the town, so that I could see a lot of it; except that the air was thick with cool light-gray fog, and the visibility of the view was nonzero but quite small. I could make out a waterspout, due north of me, extending down from a thicker white cloudbase into the town’s streets; it was quiet and rotated slowly and didn’t seem to be actually damaging anything. Then, at, I think, the top of the hill, maybe pretty near where I just described, was a station for a kind of wide-slope luge, which I entered on the south side; the building itself was like a shooting gallery, with a horizontal opening facing out toward the very steep but eventually shallowing-out downslope, which was covered with packed snow — the opening was the start for the lugers, who were clipped into snowboards and were wearing parachutes and bodysuits, and would slide down the slope (the snowboards not having a clear role) when let go by a gate apparatus inside the opening. I wasn’t dressed to partake in the luge; I just peered through the opening and then wended my way out of the north side of the building, which was parking-garage-like. I also vaguely recollect at another point being in a large living room or something of a private house, also on the side of a hill, but no details.

mountainside house

From June 24: I was with my parents in Temple; we were driving to our family friend’s new house, which was on the north face of a steep wooded east-west mountain ridge west of the main road, with flat land north of it, whence we were approaching. It was a sunny day with dark, bracing cumulus clouds. My mom drove the 9-3 up a very steep field on the mountain to a flat spot to park. Inside house, there were a number of people, most of whom I seemed not to know; we hung around there with the bright clear midmorning sun streaming in the south windows into the pleasant wooden interior, and other things must have happened but were forgotten by the time I wrote this down.

ring hall

Next, from I think a nap, or maybe the night’s sleep, on June 23: I was in an apartment building that had a curious parking-garage-lane-like annular hallway space within it, which separated rooms inside the ring from those on the edge of the building. There were steep stairways around the inner edge of the ring inside and outside of the wall; the hall floor sloped down at its western extent toward the south; there was a leftover lenticular platform between the south part of the ring and the flat inner wall. The hallway had eateries on its outside edge, to the southwest, at the base of the sloped part, where I got a BBQish sub. A percussion rhythm was being played by hand by a group inside the inner apartment, as people from other apartments above it proceeded downstairs to go out for a celebration (catalyzed in my brain by the RL Verbena de Sant Joan, no doubt).


I have a backlog of five dream sessions to publish, starting with the night before June 20, which I will publish in separate posts. This first one was extensive.

The whole BCN group was at a bucolic, rural, hilly camp- or village-like spot in lovely clear weather. There was an east-facing downslope just to the east of it. At one point I was at a trough point on a north-south road that ran right along the top of the downslope; it was midmorning; the downslope was covered by meadow grass, while the other side of the road had a shorter lawn, with some trees next to it. The gathering of people was there at least partially for academics, as we had daily homework handouts that were often forgotten till the morning of the day they were due (possibly due to evening expeditions?); we worked on the homework inside a room that was fairly dark but lit well enough to see by intensely bright cracks of sunlight. At some other point, I was walking along outside on a gravel street by a house, maybe the same one; there were porches providing deep shade, again with the sun shining intensely through some cracks and around the edges; I stopped at a window, where a couple of other people were, that had two layers of partially slid-up screen, so that there was an air gap to the inside of the building at the window’s base.

The dream took a hard left turn as I described to one of my friends, but then eventually became immersed in, an odd British TV show. It was a series that ran from 1968-1971 about a humanoid alien who warned people about things (environmental? moral?) through his reinterpretations of Biblical scripture. The pilot show, in the desaturated color of the time, took place in the apse of a baroque church, with all young, beautiful people as clergy — the model-like young brunette woman pastor sat up on a sort of throne in the right corner, while others were in the center, with no one saying anything till the main character got into the throne in the left corner. He had pink streamy-feathered angel wings, maybe a headband, Roman wavy sandcolored hair, and maybe simple Biblical-like clothes, talking in an overenunciated British accent, eventually climbing down from the throne to walk over to the others while quoting from a Bible he was holding (at which point my POV was of another character looking over his shoulder, with the church’s nave to the right instead of behind). It was basically the meeting point of sci-fi glam and BBC historical drama.

The friend who I related this to had an amused and somewhat amazed response to my description of the show while a few of us walked south along another gravel street back in the sunny bucolic place. There was an outlook beyond some buildings we were walking between, to the east and south; I think we were heading back toward the trough point of the road mentioned above.

The other scene that I remembered was in a different place entirely, an open plain, on a cool, overcast, dark drizzly day; there were train tracks, a number of them in parallel, running north-south, and I was walking along/across the tracks with one of my friends, to what purpose I forget.

parakeet room

In a nap this afternoon, I dreamt that I was walking around the streets and interiors of northern Raval (which I had just been doing IRL), including the Boqueria, which was oddly empty and desolate, and also more walled-in than IRL; at one point I was hanging out in a smallish wood-walled room, with no windows but lit by some daylight coming in from another room through a door on the southwest corner of the room, and maybe around another side; there was also an incandescent light in the southeast corner. There were rungs on the wall, and maybe a caged or screened area along the wall as well, which served as the abode of a white parakeet. I think there were some little pet rodents there too, but I didn’t notice them as much, as I was mostly interacting with the parakeet — I sat down in the corner and put my hand out in greeting, as for a dog, and the parakeet stretched its wing out and softly batted my hand, like a curious handshake. Then maybe I talked to it for a while; maybe it talked back.

attic pool

Oops, waited till almost tomorrow to write this out. But I remembered a whole bunch of stuff this morning from last night’s dreams and wrote extensive notes down, so here we go:

  • In an early scene, it was a sunny, Augustish mid-to-late afternoon in a small German town with a mix of woods and fields extending right into the town; there was a tall multilevel building there built into a slope, with some trees just to its north, and it had entrances on different floors based on the slope. There was an open stairwell all up and down the building with lots of windows around and the sun coming in; in fact it seemed to take up the entire area of the building. In the same spot, later on, it was evening twilight, and there was an uphill winding road extending to the north from the vicinity of the multilevel building that some cars drove up along. At some time before or after that I and some other people were running along/down a terraced hill in the same area, back toward the southeast. There were also hills to the west, and fields to the south and southeast with woods beyond, including an area of woods that separated the south and southeast fields.
  • In a late scene, I was sort of parkouring (but really just climbing over railings) in a vaulted brick corridor/arcade and then an adjacent wallpapered grand room of an old building in some Barcelona-like city, with WXC people (Bill and Stephen, and maybe others). At that point it was bright midmorning sunlight, which reflected in to the arcade from the plaza to the northeast that it bounded; the fancy room was on the west side of the arcade and just to its south was a glazed door to another outside area, or at least a sunlit one, from the arcade.
  • In another late scene, maybe connected to the previous one, where again it was evening twilight, I was with a number of WU people in an attic of a Victorian house, with low, steep-pitched main and dormer roof ceilings, that was a pool-sized (but shallow) hot tub. Someone related the story (which became a direct scene) of a similar location they’d been in, or maybe it was a fashion show he was watching, where someone got burned when UV light shone on their underwear, with a reference to “Neptune” as having to do with the cause of the incident. Weird. In that scene, water was swirling around fast within the pool, and it was very dark. Later, the same people were departing from a parking lot in front of the house, in a dark purple minivan, to return home; I was saying goodbye to them till the fall or spring semester, depending on their study-abroad schedule, as it was the end of the summer session. This changed to me being in the minivan with them as it proceeded along and curved around on a NH highway, past the Hancock church, in the dusky evening.

Iran train

The only event I really remember was that I was on the train to Iran from maybe Barcelona (had Iran on the brain because of yesterday’s RL elections there). It was a funny blend of sunny daytime and dusk out, and the train seemed to be going at a leisurely pace through woods that looked like Maine. We reached Syria and maybe stopped for the night (and it still looked like Maine) and either there or in Iran itself, we (that is, my parents and I and maybe other people as well) were staying at a house or cabin in the woods. It appeared, to my chagrin, that the cabin’s electricity could not be turned on from 10PM to 8AM or something like that, which was about the time that we’d be spending the night there. However, that was fixed somehow. I also now remember going into a rustically styled convenience store, maybe on the way on that trip, with the cashier at the back of the store, and I wanted to maybe get a sandwich but it looked like all the sandwiches had meat, so I refocused on snacks.