Monthly Archives: September 2010

park guitar

The only scene I retained from last night is one where I was with a number of, I guess, classmates at the edge of a park area on a sunny, dewy mid-early morning; there was a building just to our south and a low wall on the west edge of the north-south concrete walkway we were standing around on, and large generous trees were interspersed in the lawn to the east. The lawn continued out a ways and was bounded by trees in the distance. I was trying to fix an electric guitar, attempting to reinsert bundled live wires, maybe from the pickups? back into the guitar’s bridge, and at the same time I and a few friends were talking with maybe an older middle-aged guy about concerts we’d just seen in East Asia — this referred to an earlier dream scene that I couldn’t recall after waking up, but which I know was not consciously set in East Asia while it was happening.


From last night: I was out running and arrived at a familiar intersection of roads on the north side of Montjuïc (the closest RL equivalent being the intersection of Avinguda de Miramar and Carretera de Montjuïc) on a sunny late afternoon. The Avinguda ran east-west, nearly flat at that point, while the Carretera was a reverse left off it going further up the hill, as IRL. There was another intersection of a lower road coming up to the Avinguda just a little further back to the east (this, I believe, corresponded to the RL Passeig de Santa Madrona, which IRL is well past the Carretera to the west; but Montjuïc’s road network is squirrelly and hard to build a mental map of, so no wonder my brain was confused). On the north (downhill) side was a break in the trees yielding a far view, and the sun was just shining in from its north-northwest azimuth. I put the stereo I was carrying off the south (uphill) side of the Avinguda, nestled on the ground above the low retaining wall, and played a Black Flag song, something like “Thirsty and Miserable,” but probably just a made-up hybrid of their RL songs. I ran up and down from the further-back intersection to the Carretera and back, then crossed over the funicular tracks running alongside the Avinguda on its north side. The tracks were separated from the Avinguda by a loose-stone-covered area a few feet wide, and in the midst of this buffer stood a metal pole, which I’d hung my backpack on and placed some books near (Italian language reference books, I think). I wanted to retrieve the pack and books but decided not to just yet, as the funicular would be arriving presently and I wanted to stay off the tracks. So I climbed back up to the Avinguda, going through the gate in the low chain-link fence that demarcated the stony buffer from the road. By that point the sun had set, but there was still bright western daylight coming in from the view. The funicular arrived with startling speed, moving very smoothly and seeming to stop from full speed in just a fraction of a second (the intersection was a stop on the line), so that I was very glad I had gotten off the tracks when I did. The conductor disembarked and began to strap my backpack and books onto the top of the train (which had become miniature in height, it seemed, only about as tall as a kitchen counter), thinking that they had been lost. I told him in rudimentary Italian (since apparently this was an Italophone region) that they were mine and I would hang onto them; somehow it became apparent that his native language was German, so after a while we conversed in German. By that time it was nearly dusk.

second moon

Hey oops I forgot to finish and post this yesterday! So this is from the morning of the 27th.

  • I was on an ocean-linear-size ship, but it seemed more utilitarian than that, as though maybe it was a big ferry. I was up on a partially roofed part of the deck, and the ship was seemingly near the coast somewhere, as a smattering of people were looking out at the view toward the northeast and northwest (the ship was aligned north-south). I then looked at some large HVAC-exhaust-like volume in front of the high wall of the ship’s superstructure. The sun was hidden behind the superstructure; it was afternoon, and I was on the north side of the superstructure. I saw a bundle of heavy-duty power cables running horizontally along the wall of the, um, superstructure and disappearing into the HVAC volume.
  • While I was riding in the car with my parents, perhaps in a non-snowy wintry time of year, so that we were driving through stands of bare deciduous trees mixed in with wide open spaces, the sun got toward setting in a beautiful, fiery milieu of clouds; as it was pretty much setting, I noticed the full moon risen at the other end of the sky. Then I noticed a second satellite, at least as large as the moon in apparent size, in full phase; deep, round-edged craters indented its surface. It sat back closer to the sun but high in the southwestern sky; we conjectured what consequences its presence would have on the orbits of the local planetary bodies, hoping that nothing would end up crashing into Earth.

plaza business

It was morning, starting cloudy, I think, and I and someone else went into a version of Driscoll — not the normal Wms configuration, but rather in a wooded area with a descending slope to the east yielding a view through the trees, and with a sort of plaza on the west side. I think there was a road or path running north-south on the opposite edge of the plaza. I only wanted to go through the dining hall to get out the other side, which was somewhat complex due to the need to card in, but after going up and down some stairs or levels I was able to exit onto the plaza. There I discovered that the roof of a porch extending into the plaza from a wing of the building to the south was made of thin-shell concrete, which was rather impressive. At that point it was sunny and crisp. Reality moved one level away as I watched vivid DSLR footage of trees and sky to the southwest of the plaza, which then moved on to an investigation of sculptures in the plaza. To the northeast, by the north edge of the building, was a piece consisting of long white tubes, square in section and a few inches wide, stacked up on each other, running east-west. They were pierced with apertures of various sizes and shapes along their length, and the camera looked down the length of one tube at the top of the pile and kept zooming further and further in, revealing more and more varieties of apertures as its focus extended in, with interesting daylight results. Then, right after that, I think, a smallish canopy (seemed blanketlike) in the northwest corner of the plaza appeared to have a very large caterpillar climb down it (on the upper side of the canopy, so only the caterpillar’s shadow was visible). I seemed to be bodily back in the plaza to see that, and thereafter to notice a small, opened cardboard box on an adjacent table; it contained stacked raw eggs (which were out of their shells but sort of gelatinized into half-avocado configurations) with a peach fragrance that were supposed to maybe incubate into frogs or something, but we were skeptical about that.

Colorado mountains

The one scene I remember from last night is that I was riding in a car with some WU friends; we were on the southern outskirts of St. Louis and driving north toward downtown. It was afternoon, and the sky was thick with a warm-tinted haze or fog of varying density, so that it permitted far views in some directions. I was astounded to suddenly see a high snow-capped mountain to the north; it was several degrees of arc in my field of view, but it turned out that it was in Colorado, so it was extremely huge. The closest IRL experience I can think of is being able to see Izta and Popo from the southeastern outskirts of Mexico City — this mountain was a similar apparent size, but of course much further away. The others in the car seemed to know about it already and be surprised that I hadn’t noticed it from the city before. My mind was blown wider open when I noticed another slightly higher mountain beyond the first one, and then another yet higher one beyond that; the furthest one had blue sky behind it, as opposed to the nearer ones, which had haze/fog scud and land behind them. As we drove further into the city, the mountains seemed to shift around to the west (which of course makes more sense in terms of the RL relative positions of St. Louis and Colorado). I fumbled around to get my camera and snap the view of the mountains before they went out of sight, and I managed to get one alright picture.

found lake

The only scene that stuck with me from last night is one of the coolest I’ve experienced in a while; I was out in the field at home in NH with my parents and maybe some neighbors, as something was going on with the sheep, maybe they were being moved. It was around the middle of the day. Anyway, we proceeded into the woods to the west of the field, and we soon reached the rocky shore of a lake that I had only had a vague awareness of previously. It was bright and sunny, with a nice lakey breeze. Some people who appeared to have a house on the lake were sitting on the rocks a ways to the south. There was a concrete wall extending maybe into the water near us to the south, and a concrete platform appeared, or I noticed it suddenly, in the water just to the southwest. On the platform was a big horizontal gas tank, and there seemed to be smaller gas tanks elsewhere as well; in addition there was some sort of superstructure over the main gas tank.

Soon after that, I was riding in a car with my parents, going north on the road from the house, and the lake was now visible even from there, and furthermore so was a cluster of high-rise city buildings on the opposite shore. I lucid-dreamed very precise and varied buildings as we drove along, commenting to my parents that their detail was remarkable for being dreamed. Which it was.


Just a couple of vignettes:

  • I was on Main St in Hancock in the late afternoon, and the sun was lowish in the southwest, although it was still very white, as on a day with super-clear air, and because of its low angle, the shadows from the buildings on the south side of the street had swallowed the whole street, and it was rather dark, though the sky was still bright. The buildings were also taller than IRL, amplifying the effect. For some reason it was a very unusual time of day for me to be there, and as a result I didn’t remember ever seeing the shadows like that previously.
  • I went on a ride on an overcast day in a motorboat, seemingly over land; we started out in a woods clearing like IRL in Maine and headed south out into a wide-open mountain valley with wet-sandy/stony terrain, with a nearby high mountain ridge to the south, running east-west, and with flatter, further vistas in other directions. I left my iPod charger cord in the grass in the woods clearing, which I was annoyed at myself for doing. In the mountain valley, the sky was still mostly overcast but had a touch of end-of-the-day pastels. At least I think the ride started in the glade and moved into the valley, but I may be conflating two separate scenes.