wormhole roads

From the 25th:

  • I seemed to be in a rather grand yet rustic house or cabin in the northern winter woods; in one room, sitting on a piano, I think, was a large, rather coffin-like (but with narrowed neck) case containing five guitars — I think its volume wasn’t actually large enough to contain them without being a TARDIS, but anyway each guitar was made with incredible artistry, and each was very distinctive. One was covered with large zones of various colors of enamel, I think, and another one was covered in a blue/white/yellow Van Gogh-like painting (or maybe Van Gogh himself had painted it). I wish I could remember what the others looked like. I took them all out to admire them and then placed them back inside. The room I was in was I think finished in dark rough wood; there was a tall window to the northwest (I was at the east side of the piano) and behind me was a door letting in streaming early-morning sunlight.
  • My dad and I were driving through the Colorado mountains on an alternative, “wormhole” road network, again on an earlyish, clear winter’s morning; this network had peripheral connections to the normal one but was uncombined with it within its realm. The roads we drove on were covered with packed, clean snow, plus gravel (which stayed consolidated and didn’t mix with the adjacent snow). One could walk on the roads but had to take off one’s boots and walk in sock feet so as not to dirty the snow. (For some reason driving on the roads didn’t dirty them, whatever.) On the main east-west road, there was a view out to the southwest and boreal woods in all directions, and the immediate area I remember was a bowl.
  • I was maybe with WU or Wms friends at a hostel-like place, which had a fluorescent-lit main stairwell that spiraled orthogonally (i.e. short stretches of stairs ending at square landings). The second floor had a straight flight of stairs to the northeast of the spiral stairwell, which headed east down to the lobby/info-center area of the hostel. To the right of these stairs was a central info station, with counters and overhead soffits of glossy yellow-orangey wood, very ski-lodgy; the stairwell was also rustic/wooden and its slanting ceiling (or maybe it was the underside of treads and risers of a stair above) was encrusted with memorabilia such as faded-color old expedition photographs and such. The info center and stairwell were both brightly lit by halogen-like tilted overhead lights. I was somehow pole-vaulting or stilting up and down the spiral stairwell, and then continued down the straight stairwell; I dislodged one of the pinned-up photos and it floated down, so I picked it up and re-pinned it.

One Comment

  1. Posted April 1, 2011 at 4:51 pm | Permalink | Reply

    Interesting remarks and blog especially the remark about Van Gogh. Please feel free to check out my Van Gogh work at http://www.segmation.com/products_pc_patternset_contents.asp?set=VVG and let me know what you think of it? Thank you for reading this and enjoy! Sincerely, Segmation dot com

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