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Dream Journal

Cassette Cards, Big City of the Canary Islands

Middle school classroom at end of building wing, probably where Ms. Snowden’s classroom was. We’re venturing and exploring from there as a base, but my memories are now blurred. There’s a different warmth and familiarity to the room though, as if I’ve spent so long there it’s like a home. The whiteboard has kinder lighting, the chairs aren’t uncomfortable, we all face forward not for lessons but for shared enjoyment.

As part of the chores I am mucking out the cardboard box where discards are kept. I find tight stacks of index cards there, as if just deposited fresh from a box. Many of them appear made just for cassette tapes with tear-off perforations. Some even have typewriter-written labels, as if they came directly from someone’s collection.

Trying to remember where Tarzania is, a country I haven’t checked in on in awhile. Seems to be buried in Siberia east of Belarus, but maybe it has disappeared… they were having trouble staying together as a country for awhile.

Considering moving to Canary Islands in middle of Atlantic. What do you know about them? I know they have only one large city, the capitol. It doesn’t feel that small though I don’t know how I’ll feel years from now.

While practicing for Canary Islands in staying in a small brick lower floor unit. Actually my whole family, while I plan to stay in a tent just behind there — for practice, and to show I’m already independent enough to live on my own. I jump down from the end of a brick wall down to the courtyard… I realize this is just like a traditional sport/pastime of the Canaries: shepherds used to traverse the rough rocky landscape using long poles. The connection, once obvious, is auspicious.

Run across a drinking contest hosted from a street corner. Maybe still in the big city of the Canary Islands? The host informs four male volunteers that each drink is based on a recipe from their grandfather. This proves to be an obvious joke by guy #3, with the real point of the game being up quickly get these guys drunk and ask them ridiculous questions.

At an outdoor sale, the vendor reluctantly points out that I might want the sound-recording selfie stick. I remember the cards for cassette tapes I find in the garbage earlier. I awake, having been reminded that I wanted to record the sounds of the dawn chorus where I’m staying.

Categories
Dream Journal

Roman Bricks, Zoo Friend Desk

Walking along a seaside path of ancient bricks made in the ancient city of Manchester. The bricks were cast in prehistory, but completely removed, sifted, and replaced in Roman times. As an archaeologist this makes me sad (so much we could’ve learned) but at least the bricks are still there. Grass grows through them, the sky is dark and overcast, and salt spray is in the air, but it’s peaceful and quiet.

A Volkswagen drives up to a sphere at a turn-off of the brick road. It dumps bricks on the family car parked there. This is some family trip with my mom and dad, I delay us by having to stow my cases of cherry soda under the table in the RV.


To enter Cleveland zoo — or Columbus? — you pass through a short-walled entrance into an enclosure with loose animals that might attack you, leopards, gorillas. The next area for guests is large and open, with tacky safari décor, but everyone immediately gets in a line to wait. We eventually get to the line’s front at the zoo assistant desk. The counter person is our friend Chloe. I don’t think we’ve met her before in this dream, but we can be openly friendly and she shows us a special brochure the attendants keep under the desk. She flips through the pages speedily — some seem to have explicit diagrams comparing animal mating vs. human mating. I comment on how cool this is, but only get a “hey, keep it down” expression in reply. Chloe then pointedly resumes the default assistant-guest script.


Atop a hill or ridge I dig through a trash pile against a short cinderblock corner wall. It’s mostly nice lightly-used furniture since it’s so close to a new upscale development. The impersonal row of buildings looms over the narrow plateau; I head over. It gets very quiet as I approach the hotel. The café’s gimmick is serving a bowl of big beans with a big spoon. A charismatic shyster tries to use NLP on me while I eat, but doesn’t say give me anything I want to open up for. I end up trying to give him an empathy lesson instead.


In a different time, a different dream but a similar hill, I gaze out on a hillside toward a stepped stadium, and the dusty hill leading down to it. I put my motorcycle boots on to leave.