Tag: boats

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Dream Journal

Mini Plesiosaur is Silly

In our large, outdoor aquarium setup (taking up about as much space as a shipping container) I remove one of the former centrally-important fish, replacing it with a very nervous mini-plesiosaur. The thing has a pleasingly silly dark green appearance, darting and swimming around like a toy from a cartoon (or perhaps some Midjourney images I’ve made).

In the open water of a lake with many boats, I’m directed to catch a kid wearing floaties and suspended by the chords of a parachute. I drag him over to the Relentless — a boat I used to crew once upon a time. I tell my friend Anton (reminding him actually) that if something you do is “stealing” from a billionaire… you’re just stealing it back.

At some point I left behind my motorcycle clothing somewhere. It’s since been moved, and I navigate stations of a library scattered about an outdoor terraced environment, collecting it piece by piece.

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Dream Journal

Nautical Art Show

Nautical group art show. Different boats and boat themed objects. One object on loan from the Riverside County Museum has recently been improved since last time I looked. It’s a polymer sculpted little white boat, a tiny compass underneath a flip-top cap on top of the cabin. But just looking at it bares a kind of threat — it was made by Casey, a much disliked ex of my wife.

As I (with difficulty) attempt to lounge on a craggy rock (with Dana trying to lean back and relax on my leg), another art object is demonstrated by its creator. He’s wrapped a boot in a clever layer of canvas fabric, folding the edges to look like a keel. The patches where the boot boat leaked are only revealed when he points them out.

Watching a lanky latino chef prepare some kind of galley meal, his friend loading the dishwasher at the corner of the stainless steel kitchen. One thing pushes into another, a bin of forks falls over the side but lands upright, luckily. I’m young and eager, and pop up to grab it for him. I observe his internal debate as he tries to calculate if he has enough time to wash a single blender jug.

Maneport Hub, a modern 80s TV show take on the “keeping up with the pirates” drama. See a short clip where a lady is strapped off the gunnels and being hosed down waterboard style. The camera pulls back and it’s revealed she’s just practicing. The files are in a folder, and I accidentally delete the main folder exposing all the sub-season folders and the text entries and the like.

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Dream Journal

Rusty Oil Truck Island

Array of plastic tables indoors on first floor, light streaming in through the windows. Lynae is there, many others, Dara V. too. We’re all waiting for something in enforced silence while outside a dense, tall city bustles.

Lynae and I are looking for a suitable oil truck to make deliveries on a small island in the central valley delta. In a steep, small dirt harbor we check out out a poorly maintained rustbucket with catwalks, the tanker alone costing our total $1500 budget. Chicken steams in on the Relentless and tells us we need to buy it and get started already. I expect we’ll get stuck working on the island, but consider that we’ll be the first to settle the area — we’ll be pushing the edge of civilization.

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Dream Journal

Dream: October 5, 2018

Small 1-person boats impaled on pillars, to dry perhaps? Reminds me of a golf cart installation I saw in the Mojave Desert.

In a free movie theater, there’s a disused and neglected triangular video game room off to the side of the hallway. Behind a flimsy wall can be found a secret, colorful 70s dining hall. The hall still has chandeliers somehow. I’m discovered fairly quickly by some other students who work there.

I’m a red-headed sun-kissed kid, looking in a mirror. This is the end of the dream and I’ve been experiencing it as him, and he’s the character I’ve most liked, he’s made all good decisions. I use his image as an anchor, hoping to remember the whole story.

Seeing mom in Cathedral City backyard, confused because I remember some people who are there actually aren’t supposedly around anymore.

Diztroyo: a kind of chaotic and confusing music I hear with glitched-out visuals to match, the end of the night when I’ve essentially slept too long.