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Dream Journal

Missing the Subway Under the Education Complex

Inside a school complex, a range of all age students. Concrete everything. I’m waiting for a subway train on an underground platform with large posts that obscure my view. There are minders to help escort you onto the train, but mine is an inexperienced black kid that is dressed like a security guard. He screws up, despite my verbal protestations, and I miss the train despite standing right in front of it. The complex is big enough that I’m annoyed but not surprised.

Reminds me of a dream where I worked in an underground parking lot for Munchery — much like a coal mine. But also another parking lot dream, one where a cultish society had grown up in a renovated railyard roundhouse (like the Sacramento Railroad Museum) and I was the only one who could go in and out. I’ve also had dreams of a subterranean Space Mountain-style roller coaster. And a city-sized labyrinthine airport/spaceport.

The odd thing was that, from the satellite view of the school, this looked like my elementary school in Eureka… I haven’t thought about that in quite awhile and don’t know what it could mean.

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Dream Journal

Paved-Over Backyard

The backyard of the house where I grew up has been paved over. The pool and the lime trees look especially desolate. You can still see the outlines of our life here, though. The hill against the far wall is the only other remnant of back then. Everything is toned a shabby pink-beige-grey.

I survey this from atop a publicly accessible platform of fence-height, built on a portion of what was once the neighbor’s property — ceded by eminent domain to satisfy some unloved bureaucratic subclause, without rationale. It occurs to me on waking I’m only feet from where I lost my virginity.

Inside the house, in the addition, I look up to the naked rafters toward what looks like a faraway sky. A cypress tree and a telephone pole peek through. Oddly, I have a vague fantasy of taking down the pole’s crossbeam and carrying it like Jesus would’ve. I am left with the impression of gems/jewels dropping from that telephone pole.

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Dream Journal

Still Helping the Hassnaldis

Project I’m working on for Chicken (or some boss like Chicken) is a large, decorated, blue-tone fishtank. We work with masks on, I think. The last part to be done is add a large, scale-less, small-eyed fish, similar to an electric eel. At that point the tank gets partially obscured by a mattress, and it’s surface moves like a waterbed.

In a storage drawer, in a small anteroom off to the left, I find the huge preserved head of a predatory flightless bird, either a Moa or Elephant Bird or Roc, and playfully bite with it’s detached jaw and cranium.

Doorway with viewing windows at head level and foot, doorbell rings and outside are trick-or-treaters! Somehow everyone inside has forgotten it’s Halloween, and all our lights are still on.

Traveling by a handbuilt wooden bus, connected with a matching wooden trailer, a long and capacious artsy space. Chicken is absorbed driving. I’m at the very back with Eileen.

Helping Eileen in the city of Shenzhen, navigating an inconvenient alleyway obviously not designed for people. She rides a bulky horse named Henry clopping up an oversize stone stairway. At the end of this linear maze of a commercial zone, under an alcove are samples of pre-made snacks. One is decent, the others flavors are unfamailiar and unsuitable to serve in a cafe, and Eileen says as much.

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Dream Journal

Snippet of Play Weaponry

Tiny bow and arrow made of workshop scraps shoots metal bits arcing through the air. The dream perspective follows it in cinematic slow-motion style.

Took two Calea pills. Only a short time to sleep due to staying up late and needing to get up early to move the car. Song going through my head: Birdhouse in Your Soul.

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Blog

Trippy Cool Bullshit I Found № 665204

Classic psychedelic cartoon “Fantastic Planet” set to a trippy sample-heavy song by Gaslamp Killer, “Shattering Inner Journeys”, found via WhoSampled entry for Psyché Rock, R.I.P. Pierre Henry (1927 – 2017)