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Dream Journal

Rearranging the Formal Garden

Picking out from a line of available cars from grandma, who has passed on her collection. I realize after I’ve made my pick that I was only considering between the cars in a certain category that felt like the one that was supposed to be mine, neglecting to evaluate if there were better options in other categories.

Watching Dune 2 in a very long oversized movie theater, the rows separated by big distances so those in front or behind don’t disturb each other. I feel as though I am a powerful or dangerous entity here, as though I am hiding my power level. But others could be too.

On screen, the movie is more reminiscent of the setting of Dune 2 than the story. We pan over an extended slope of sandy hill with dunes, a helicopter (or more likely a ‘thopter) plunging into them. A friend, Andi, is a character there in the film setting.

A few of my rats have a deep tangerine tinge to them. Concerned, I search around and discover they’ve gotten into a container of cranberries. My wife soon notices them lying on their sides together covering in the almost-red goo and I’m able to quickly explain that they only ate a bunch of the cranberries and destroyed the box.

Moving benches in a formal garden, split into quarters. Place one bench diagonally in the center of a raised grass square which is girded with brick. I move the other benches together on the opposite side to make a denser gathering space there. In order to push them against the far wall, I have to move a long pair of risers stacked one on the other. Those turn out to be mirrored L-shaped equipment movers, with heavy duty wheels on one end. They might prove very useful in the future.

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Dream Journal

Sharing Space (at a Party) with Plarvolia, and It’s OK

I show up to a big art party bash, one of those semi-regular community-wide fun Bay Area events, where I quite soon run into Plarvolia. It’s too late; there’s no pretending; we both have seen that we have seen one another. We share the same reaction: while niether of us likes being in the same space, ignoring each other might be tolerable. She is wearing a pair of obliquely-angled blinders over the edge of her glasses — I spot them as we perform our mutual heel-turn about-face. The blinders give her exasperated/embarrassed expression a heightened cartoonish quality.

The party is rather lively as there’s lots to do. Vibe is creative and friendly. The event is laid out on a wide unsteep staircase, more of a single-sided ziggurat I suppose, such that one can see the swath of the revelry both up and down. The mood is light enough that she and I end up nearby on a few couches. Without discomfort, we can idly observe and even eavesdrop thus finally getting a genuine read on the other person — perhaps the root of our earlier failure to connect. Eventually we even flow into shared conversation. It comes as a striking relief for us both, this passive lifting of the unresolved tension and harshness we carried these years. I observe her former warniness replaced by a sort of wan disappointment at her own misjudgment of me (or simply unlucky judgement). She realizes I could’ve made a nice friend — still could be — and who knows what else — in the end all the mistake cost was wasted time. None of this is acknowledged verbally. By the end as the party is emptying out, she invites me to meet outside, or later, something like that. I say “we’ll see, I’m gonna help clean things up here for a bit.”

And that’s exactly what I do. I don’t think much about it for a bit, as I quite enjoy having a bit of camaraderie with the party organizers (and I usually do). I do take a moment though to reflect how I’ve managed to leave her to herself, to let her invitation to furtherance sit and rest. She may choose to either wait for me or to go off for her next thing, as she pleases. I didn’t overthink it.


I wake up quite early. I recognize the significance of a Plarvolia dream like this. I write only a brief description, nudging myself to remember it the rest of the day (one such trick I’ve learned over years of writing down dreams).

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Dream Journal

Old Bedroom Illusion, Zebra & Giraffe Chase, Mental Patient Rescue

In my old room in Cathedral City I imagine I am wearing my sleep blindfold that I wear every morning. While staring at the window I imagine the room to be a simpler place, with flowers decorating the desk below the window. It’s hallucination within a dream. Most of the room is taken up by books left there by Patrick when it was his room — sometimes two bookcases deep. There are a few old posters on the wall, which I’ve left up as I’m simply too apathetic to remove them

Several giraffes have randomly joined a herd of antelope in a sloped desert canyon outside Las Vegas. Following them on motorcycle, I see a tall head peak from behind an electrical substation. I’m off my bike temporarily and the giraffes summoned zebra which would kick me to death. but I rush and to get back on my motorcycle, speeding off just in time.

On the edge of the open plain where the zebra chased me down I ride past a refueling station for bio-fuel cars. It’s weird to think that driving such a car during my lifetime I’ve used fresh green leaves as fuel from a station like this. Now we have much more compressed versions available.

I walk down the hall of a mental hospital prison, perceiving the intricate infrastructure built into such a place, intentionally concealed behind dirty rough slabs forming the walls. I find a mother-daughter pair housed in a blocky suite of rooms. I realize the two are only sick because they’re being kept here. Part of my plan and coming here was to break people like them out. I just have to wait for the end of the day shift and the nurses to complete a headcount before locking the door for the evening. One of them stares right at me as I perch on a low bed against the interior wall, though I manage to still go unseen — I practice invisibility like the witch Seraphina Peccola.

At the last minute before I do the breakout, Sarek from Star Trek shows up from the hall. The dream itself and my ability to maintain immersion breaks up as I break through the glass window victoriously, smashing it with my wallet tool like a pair of brass knuckles. My female co-conspirator is waiting outside to help us with a quick getaway across the wide parking lot and dry summer grass plains.