Tag: elderly

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Dream Journal

3 of 6 Dreamcards

Waking up hours earlier than I should, with only 5 hours sleep. I remember having six distinct dreams, but I know from past experience if I wake up to write them down I won’t be able to fall back asleep. But if I fall asleep, I almost certainly won’t remember them. On returning to sleep I envision the dreams as a row of cards, each with a title and the single most powerful image from it. I managed to remember half of them, though strangely they are not in any order or sequence. Typically, I can remember one part of a dream and reconstruct the narrative.

I’m attending a stage reading event where my Nana is one of the presenters. We have a pleasant conversation across the table from each other under the big tent. We depart together at the end.

Sitting backwards on a bus, a kid has a hand over his face. Kids are keeping other kids in strict lines this way. There’s a social order aspect I don’t fully understand, but find troublesome.

RFC. 43.0.0.13 is a “request for comments” and an in-joke. Among internet engineering nerds, it alludes to the idea of elderly people’s life stories being absorbed into a universal hive mind (or Akashic records) at the end of their lives. It’s an old trope creatively and bizarrely mapped onto a modern interface. Lives, in this sense, are additional “comments”.

Categories
Dream Journal

Lumberjack at Old Italians’ Farm

Roller skating down a slope in my hometown. Though I’m having a nice easy time, I frequently have to use lucid dream control to smooth the texture of the road (similar to video game level of detail, a.k.a. LOD). I reach a private property gate with an old couple, who might be Italian. A split wood fence on the right shores up some grassy semi-neglected farmland. The fence is rotted and peels apart with simple tugging.

Speaking in a folksy, feigned Italian accent, I convince them to let me work on replacing it. There’s a stand of pine trees on the property, further to the east, in need of maintenance anyway. I show up and pass through the locked railing/gate, feeling like I’ve somehow pulled a trick on them — after all, this is what I’d like to do with the place anyway. I’m really excited to try fixing it up despite not having experience. Felling the tree is simple: you find the direction you want it to fall, make a diamond-shaped cut on that side, then cut through from the other. I have my everyday Fiskers brand axe (a waking life possession) which would work but might be tiring; I consider whether want to learn the chainsaw for this task.

In a more urbanized area nearby, reminiscent of California’s Lake Arrowhead, there stands a statue known for its jar of marijuana. Difficult to say if this is official or simply the popular use of it. The statue and the jar have been moved around recently, likely some kind of prank.

I take a picture of my friend Aislinn in front of it, zooming out in a weird way so that faces get smaller while the person’s head stays big. This is, in fact, just as strange and amusing as it sounds.