Monthly Archives: December 2010

vox op

The only scene I remember clearly from last night’s dreams besides being on the shore of the Vierwaldstättersee at the Gersau dock and watching one of the steamships arrive (though both the dock area and the steamship layout were well different from IRL) is sitting in the dining (computer) room in NH with a couple of WU friends and thinking to myself how universally acclaimed a band the Clash were and wondering why I had never really gotten into them. I concluded that it was that I found Joe Strummer’s voice kind of annoying, and I asked my friends what they thought of his voice; one found it perfectly acceptable but the other agreed with me, which I found a relief.

park circumambulation

The scene I remember well from last night, although it morphed around as they often do, kept a linear narrative for a surprisingly long time. Initially I was looking at a Sinfest comic (maybe on paper), where the first couple of panels were looking up aslant at the south face of a Japanese temple — which really looked more like a Parthenon-like Greek temple with black velvet curtains covering the spaces between the columns. In the second and third panels, one of the curtains puffed outward, and then the last panel was Squigley floating down from the puffed-out curtain, having been ejected from the temple, having to now continue on his vagrant way.

At that point, Squigley’s POV became my own; the temple was in the northeastern part of Forest Park, which was quite different from IRL — more wooded and flat around the temple, reminding me more of Chapultepec in retrospect. A north-south road passed by the west side of the temple, and on its western side was a set of playing fields with maybe a chain-link fence between them and the sidewalk of the road. I walked on that sidewalk to the southern edge of the park which was surprisingly near; this edge was defined by a main road (but not the interstate, just a busy urban medium-speed road). It was a hazy summer afternoon and I was wearing my brown fur-collared robe [via having been a member of the order in the temple], which was rather hot in the weather. I turned right at the main road and continued on the sidewalk to the west, with the park to my right and the road to my left. The road seemed to split into a divided highway, the two halves of which took some odd dips and rises at odds with each other, with concrete retaining walls bridging the differences; an overpass or two was involved as well, I think.

As I got to the western edge of the park, I got into an analogue of the Demun area, with lots of nice brick rowhouses, and the sun was now in the southeast, and the air was clearer. I turned right again, presumably to head back to school or home, and started jogging/prancing lightly to get there faster; at one point soon after turning, where another street went left off the one I was on and there was a field to the left beyond the street, I realized I had overshot and had to circle back around. I think the park was still just to the right of the street I was on, but at a slightly lower elevation.

Eventually, after I had reached the north end of the park, the street veered right and started down a hill, curving back and forth a bit. There were single-family houses in this area; there was a chain-link fence directly on the left edge of the road, and elderly residents were out and about. I had gathered speed, and my motion seemed almost like being on a bike, but I was still just running; I had to lean into the curves sharply in order to stay on them and keep from crashing into the left-side fence, and at one point I had to grab at the ground to my right (I was leaned over enough to do so, apparently), to increase the curvature of my trajectory still further.

At this point my memory has wiped a small amount of the subsequent action, but I do remember that after reaching the base of the hill, I was with a number of WU classmates in a sort of valley park running north-south, with trees dappling the sunlight (which was still in the southeast, but we were facing east now) and with maybe a little streamlet running along it. We were walking somewhere to the north or northeast; I think school was to the west, up the hill. I was holding a binder with a bunch of contents, including objects other than papers, I think, holding it open in my hands for some reason. I think I remember myself or others leaping over the streamlet to continue on our way.


One thing I remember from last night is being on a funicular train that took all kinds of crazy turns through various tunnels and larger interior spaces. In general the spaces were within a concrete structure seemingly carved out of a landform. The funicular was unenclosed and segmented, like a roller coaster, but it moved only slowly and in stages as it progressed from one stretch to the next. I was riding it from the top of the complex to the bottom, and to start out with was a steep, about 60-degree drop, during which I realized with some apprehension that I’d forgotten to put my seatbelt on; later I was able to remedy this. At other points the funicular swiveled through quarter-circular niches at the edge of larger spaces, all sorts of weird moves like that. At the eventual end of the ride, the funicular descended into what appeared to be the lobby of something like a gas station convenience store through a large opening in its roof, and dropped its riders from a height onto an inflated mattress complex of some ilk, somewhat recalling a chairlift; at this point the occupants were facing east, as opposed to the start of the run, where we had been facing west. The whole time, there was overcast daylight shining in from the east. Just past the mattress were front doors out onto the street.

The other memory I still have is of being in a small hut, only maybe 8’x8′, that was walled just by thin wooden slats (about 1/2″ wide) that were angled to partially occlude the view through. It sat in the middle of a long patio that was in a place that is vague in my memory, maybe with single-story buildings around. There were a bunch of people around outside, and there might have been one or two other people inside the hut at some point. The day was also overcast then.

northern NH borders

The sequence I remember from last night must have been Made Possible By all the flying around in Google Earth I’ve been doing IRL recently. I was floating fairly high above northwestern New Hampshire on a late summer afternoon, where the sun was shining golden light and was near horizontal in the west. The Connecticut River was surrounded by forested, steep but smooth mountains on both sides, with lots of indentations from tributary streams — not too far removed from reality except with no human settlement or clearing visible and with much higher mountains. Then I swooped east to the border between NH and Maine, almost immediately, the distance covered seeming to be only a few hundred yards. Here the border seemed to take the form of a road or at least a linear cleared way, and on the NH side were meadows, sloping down to the road, with high grass, surrounded by woods, while the Maine side was mostly wooded. I walked south through the meadows, a bit concerned about ticks but not enough to avoid the grass; the sun switched to mid-morning for a short time but then, as I walked further south and the landscape opened up to wide views toward the south, it switched back to near-sunset. At that point I was walking on a stony gravel road, and there were people of different ages about along the road who seemed to be there on camping trips.


I sat down to play the piano at home in NH — it was dark out, I think, so the room was illuminated by the lamp next to the piano — and when I sat down, I discovered that the bench had its own piano keys, because I sat on a bunch of them. The top of the seat covered them, as IRL it covers a little space to hold music. I then rediscovered an old electric organ that was sitting just to the right of the bench and tried playing it; hitting the keys seemed to make both the organ and the piano sound. Soon the scene switched over and the organ transformed to a larger analog synth that turned out to be assembled out of various military/marine-technology (I think) components by one of my friends. It was located outdoors on a sunny day for a while; I faced west but also sometimes east while playing it, and there was a wide-open view beyond, maybe out to the horizon of the sea. There was a big volume pedal near the base, and other big pedal to its right that I forget the function of, maybe a lowpass filter; in the middle of the deep console were two live wires hanging from something that supplied the power for the synth, and behind them was a knob, or rather a post such as a knob fits onto, that varied the waveform from sawtooth to square or anywhere in between. There were some other controls as well. Then the setting switched to some sort of large storage building, like a hangar or warehouse, which was unlit inside but had some light coming in through open windows and doors. The synth was still there, and I was there with the friend who had created it; it was a protected military building, though, so when some officers approached we froze in place to try to prevent them from noticing us, and that is all I recall.