Monthly Archives: August 2010


From this morning: On the way back from Maine on a snowy/sunny winter morning, we stopped about an hour into the trip at a rest stop up a wooded hill (the entrance road going up the hill toward the east), but on the way up the hill we passed nearby a place lower to the north that was well-known to us. So, from the rest stop, we bushwhacked down to it through the woods and deepish snow; it was an old camp with a small barn at its east end, woods right nearby to the east, a small clearing to the south, and a larger clearing to the north and west, with a steep slope to the west leading down to a lower flat area with woods at its edge a ways further on. The ground also sloped back up to the north from the lower clearing and continued in a low ridge directly north of the camp. It was no longer winter but a mild day in the green season. Someone with us, who looked like Mark Gatiss, took to fixing the barn, which was in some structural disrepair, and a montage of him putting in new studs and maybe resurfacing the walls and roof proceeded. Down the slope to the west, cars were racing around haphazardly, driving off a road that went by along the north and west edges; the area was called the Speedway. To the north of the camp, receding over the ridge, was a driveway with a sign saying “Speedway / 15 mph”, which didn’t seem to be being heeded by the cars there. Also down in the Speedway was a small fenced area with two or three lions, which were bothering each other and which someone said were not at all happy there, which given their restricted quarters was quite understandable. As a result of the cars and the hostage lions, the Speedway gave rather an unsavory impression.

rivers & mountains

From the 25th:

  • There was a river running north by the road next to the field at home; it was perhaps the Contoocook, as it turned out to form the border with Greenfield. As I looked out over the field from the upstairs of the house, there was a curious stormish/sunrise/evening-type glowy side light emanating from the northeast, and river water washed over the field, which was fine because it provided needed water and nutrients. Later I drove a bridge over the river at night, and ended up driving through a loading dock doorway into an industrial building on the left side of the road.
  • I was with a few other people up on a high summit in northeastern Switzerland on a sunny late morning; there was view south toward St Gallen/Appenzell/Toggenburg, but it was confusing as to how far the view went — whether it was all the way to Graubünden or just a few miles. In, I think, the same area, there were sheep in a field on the east side of a north-south road with trees shading the field along the south edge and a similar view as from the mountain out to the east and southeast. One sheep bit at my shirt a couple times and I got annoyed, but I didn’t stay mad at it for long. At another point, again in the same milieu, maybe a little further north along the road, I was looking at large maps of Switzerland hung on projections of the north wall of a dining hall that seemed mostly outside — there were tables and people sitting at them eating, but out in the open, shaded by trees, with mottled sun coming through.

attic stories

From the 24th: I went into the attic of the house and noticed the violin in a new soft, deep blue case. I then noticed multiple stringed instruments (mandolin, 9-string guitar) on the same light wood slatted shelves that the violin was on; proceeding further into the attic, I discovered a whole large quite nice store-size room lit by late afternoon sun and daylight from the south and west, which was full of book stacks: a book(etc)store had been set up. At another point, I rediscovered drawers in the floor of the attic (a seemingly non-expanded version) that pulled straight up; they were located in the narrow corridor between base cabinets on each side, and they were possible because of the extra space between the attic floor and the ceiling below (like the RL upstairs bathroom, not the RL attic).


The night of the 23rd, I somehow remembered a crazy amount of scenes. Here goes:

  • I was riding in a car, probably with my parents, on a northern extension of Antrim Road, which led from a sunny clearing to a wooded area (near Marienfeld maybe); to the west was a cleared but brushy corridor parallel to the road, which eventually led up to tundraey mountains; it was skiable in snowy times. I think I have actually experienced this (these) setting(s) in my RL dreams before, and within this dream, in the car, I discussed how in dreams it represented an unforeseen extension of normal ways of things.
  • This, I think, segued to a 90s-vintage virtual reality tour in arctic Norway, where I was floating low over the ground, which was sprinkled with ericaceous plants that were labeled with the floating words “bok” as the Norwegian name for them (cognate with “bog,” maybe) and something like “bokare” as the term for a whole area of them; they were covered by a translucent mesh that was supposed to be snow but was sort of faceted and old-school-graphics.
  • I was partaking in a long running race, with an out-and-back route. At the finish I seemed to be looking at myself from a distance, over an athletic field to what seemed to be a plaza in front of a building where the finish was located; I was semi-swimming/floating into the finish. It was a sunny midday. One of my friends, standing out on the field, was narrating my race experience for me to newspapers. At another point, on a cool, misty morning, I was at a table at an outdoor cafe among trees in a parklike place, where there were other participants as well.
  • Maybe in the same scene, there were rayed-sun-shaped quilts fluttering about in (multiple) plazas by the athletic field.
  • I was playing a game with a couple other people in the upstairs hall where we were sitting on the floor around a small table that I think had some sort of tape player on it, and when we started up the tape, we and part of the room spun quickly around; the spinning part of the room included the doorway to the southwest, so I after a while focused on it to avoid getting dizzy.
  • I was standing in a hot tub inside a small room with a south window and a door to the east, in the middle of the day, washing off with Dr Bronner’s, and I changed some of the jet settings.
  • On a cloudy day at a crowded beach in NYC or Long Island, sea tortoises were going into the water; I was standing watching them; some large people were sitting on blankets under umbrellas nearby, next to a dropoff concrete edge into the water like the edge of a pool, and they had possibly been, either that or turned into, beluga-like whales. The scene then transformed into a living room, the concrete edge becoming a couch setup, and some people were casually jumping acrobatically on and off the furniture.

After waking up in the middle of the night and going over the above scenes so as not to forget them, I then dreamed quite a few more scenes:

  • I was sitting out at a cafe table, on a balcony slightly elevated over ground level, on an Ullanlinna-like street on a crisp clear early morning, with the sun low in the northeast. One of my XC coaches came by with his XC team running a workout and stopped to say hi.
  • I was walking with a number of friends along a street/linear park combo at night; it was dark at first but then we walked north along the street to a fluorescent-lit area, where we discussed the species of the trees with a local guy we met. I bought something at a walk-up shop on the east side of the street.
  • In a hallway, seemingly the south end of the upper-grades hallway of my middle school, I discovered that my deodorant, which was maybe stored on a shelf there, was basically out; it was shaped like a hairbrush without bristles, but thinner, black in color and with a fine washboard texture on one side, and the deodorant was dispensed from the top edge.
  • I rediscovered a plastic bottle of honey I’d brought home; there was wax atop the honey inside the bottle; the bottle had one cap and one pin-sized hole. I tried to figure out how to get wax out; I opened the cap and the bottle was suddenly a plastic bag open at the top. I fished the wax out and tried to get all the honey from it but had to rest it on a bowl of grain in the kitchen to clear up some space on counter, which was covered by other storage containers and cabinets.

ceiling dumbbell

OK well a few to catch up on, but at least they’re only up to a week old. First, from the 21st: I was up near the ceiling of a large room with a highish ceiling but still horizontally proportioned; the west and maybe east sides were glass curtain walls, which let in the overcast daylight. Other people were about, below, in the room. I was trying to fix a dumbbell-like piece of equipment that was supposed to sit on metal beam running near the ceiling, which I was standing next to. It was maybe a rolling holder for something. The metal bars of the dumbbell kept slipping out of plates, though; eventually I got it somewhat stable on the beam.

piano lesson

From a nap this afternoon: I was playing an upright piano somewhere outside in a wide-open area, though I was looking at piano music the whole time, so I don’t have a good idea of what the surroundings were like besides that. I was in the shade, though, or it was cloudy; I was facing south sitting at the piano. There seemed to be some other quiet goings-on, maybe a few cars around. I was taking a lesson from a Santa-Claus/bearded-Saddam-like old master sitting to my left, and I was going over the final lines of a song, which for some reason did not extend all the way to the right side of the page of music. I kept losing my place as I looked down from the music to the keys, and the teacher suggested annotating the page to help me remember where I was. So I wrote “START” in pencil next to the first truncated line, and maybe “END” by the last one, just to differentiate them from the middle lines better. It wasn’t all that complex a section, but I kept having a lot of issues with it.


Hmm, well the only bits I remember from last night are (1) frying large pancakes in the wok on an extra burner of the range at home in NH and (2) being on the lower floor of a wooden camp-like sort of building on a sunny early morning; to the east of the room I was in was another room, with windows both to the outside (in exterior east and south walls) and between the two rooms, so that morning light was entering the first room through the second. The east room was small, maybe 8’x12′, and it was filled with water about waist-deep. One of my friends was swimming (extremely brief) laps in it. I entered the room through a normal door — am not quite sure why the water didn’t spill out when I opened the door — to go swimming as well.

mill complex

A diverse tableau:

  • It was early evening twilight at Spruce Ledge. I was with a few other people at a field (like one IRL right near home in NH) with a bit of a view out to the west. From there, I guess, I rode in the bed of a pickup truck, with hay bales and a dog, I believe, on a dirt road that circled all the way around pond, including around the south side (like Maine Dowel IRL), except that there were camphouses along that stretch with a view down to the pond and a nice view out to the west/northwest beyond. Proceeding back up to the main house, the road became an extremely steep climb, eventually exceeding 45 degrees, and it seemed for sure like I would fall out the back of the truck — I felt like I was floating up out of the bed, looking back down the hill. Luckily I avoided that somehow and we parked up by the main house, which was on the northeast side of the pond.
  • I was riding in a car north along Antrim Rd in the Mill Rd area, and I noticed several wooden buildings that I hadn’t remembered, all of them painted in barn red. One had its upper stories cantilevered over the road, the next was built up and over the road, touching the ground on both sides, the bridging or cantilevered ceilings of both being flat. After that was a complex of timber frames for mill infrastructure that extended over the road several times. In retrospect this was an extremely cool mental architectural ensemble.
  • A number of friends and I, along with a lot of other people, were in what appeared to be a large school, with a central tall, round, suspended room connected by bridging corridors to the rest of the building. It had large windows around the sides and rounded upper corners, and maybe a circular domed window at the top. It was nighttime, and there were fireworks being set off outside right around the round room; the view of them had been great in a part of the building next to the room, but since they were closer to the round room, I went there, and the fireworks were hard to see except for the ascents and eventual descents of the sparks on the snow-covered terrain surrounding. All I saw of the finale of the show was the fireworks being let off machine-gun-like (and seemingly horizontally) at the ground.
  • At home in NH, on a dim day or maybe at twilight, I discovered that stored inside the monitor of my laptop was an extra, rather thin and flexible, monitor that could be pulled out from the left edge of the known monitor. I pulled the extra monitor out and experimented with moving windows from one screen to the other, which worked quite well. For some reason I seemed to have the laptop propped up in the window of the kitchen door, and the extra monitor eventually morphed into the mesh screen of a window to the left of the door, but it still worked.
  • I was immersed in a dramatic Terry Gilliam-like stop-motion animation, set seemingly on rooftops and in rooms for the most part, about the university origins of Monty Python, which culminated in the appearance of Graham Chapman and his defection from Oxford to Cambridge to start his writing work with John Cleese (this was not based in RL, obviously).

roof stairs

  • I was riding with some WU friends through the village of Bennington on a crisp, sunny afternoon; we commented on how all the old barns there had lots of space between their siding boards. To the northwest of the village was a lakeshore. We stopped by the shore, and a dog like Snoopy rode by on a jetski.
  • I was in a living room lit just by very indirect daylight, sitting on a couch with quite a few members of a family I knew (or maybe of my extended family), all of whom were rotund. We were talking about the logistics of an upcoming outing to a restaurant. More rotund family members came by and sat down during the course of the conversation.
  • Later, I was walking on flat roof in a Middle Eastern city on a cloudy day, among a line of people, as if walking down a street: there was a woman ahead of me and several men behind. Once she got near the end of the roof (which had a person-height wall around it), the woman walked down a small spiral staircase going into the building, while I took a large spiral stair (clockwise) next to it (as the stairs were gender-separated), and the men followed. The steps were quite large and seemed carved of marble or some similar stone, and the last few were narrow treads but still high risers, so I kind of skipped down them, grabbing onto the railings on each side, down to the inside floor. I proceeded through a warren of rough-plaster-walled, low-ceilinged rooms and emerged back into the apartment of the living room from before. I made a mental note that there was egress to the outside directly from the apartment, to quell the feeling of claustrophobia arising from the difficulty of finding one’s way back to roof stairs. It turned out to be Jon Arbuckle’s apartment; I had entered through the kitchen, where there seemed to be evidence of lasagna preparation.
  • At some other point there was heavy rain at home in NH, and water was ponding in the usual places (Lake Dowse, the southeast rink) as well as, I think, in garden beds in the backyard, counterintuitively.

two-day room

The last dream scenes from last night were a confusing cluster of events in a confusingly shifting collection of settings, so I’ll just list the elements of them (and I remember fairly few at this point anyway) without trying to recall the chronology: there was a daytime gathering of friends/classmates and we were taking pictures, maybe with both film and digital cameras; it was in a middlingly large room in what seemed to be a building within a city block, lit just by bright daylight; the building’s front face was west-facing, on a midrise block on a north-south street (I went outside to the street at some point); later on, maybe the next day, there was a ceiling-high pile of stuff in the room or maybe an adjacent room, including some boxes of popsicles about halfway down the pile, which I think I extricated a popsicle from, and I think I took a look at some prints of the film photos that had been taken previously. At that point, the room seemed to be in a building in a rural area, with open ground to the west that sloped gradually down to a small pond; it was a sunny early morning when I was outside looking down to the pond, with the sun coming from the east-northeast.