Somewhere in western Illinois. I’m following a rural path that goes straight across the USA. A lantern near a railway track indicates a safe-house for travelers nearby, another lantern hanging from a darkened building to my left. The symbolism of the lantern has been consistent for 100 years or more, but ICE is trying to stop it because it’s used by undocumented people. Further on the trail, it passes through a town and becomes an alley. I’m unpleasantly surprised to find it’s been blocked by a DOD (Department of Defense) gate.
Looking at an overhead map, some of the DOD compound is used by rich folks for wedding photo-ops. A large part of Iowa is flooded and partially blued-out. I think it’s a mapping glitch until I realize, no, most of the state is in fact flooded.
The day after final exam in my High School English teacher Mrs. Roos’ classroom. I’m the only one who finished early and I’ve been hoping to leave for a long while. I’m given a BMX helmet, but examining the tinted visor I suspect it’s not as good as my motorcycle helmet. I leave the room by myself and proceed elsewhere (perhaps to walk the trail).
I’ve been working a long time on getting a brazier properly set up with incense. Despite my efforts it’s still not finished, but I have to use it. My wife points out one of the many flaws in its setup and I get angry at her. At this point my wife actually wakes me up in bed, and tells me everything was ok (thanks, baby!).
Aquarium store with styrofoam tops, like the one I’m building for triops. One fish goes between tanks, sitting on top of them like a wordless Alice-in-Wonderland caterpillar.