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Dream Journal

Inside the Rock, Aboard Airship, On the Holodeck

In a volcanic hot springs zone, there is a hollowed-out rock that is special access handled by the Finnish Prime Minister. I’m inside on what I realize is a very exclusive visit. It’s very orderly inside, typical high-class Scandinavian clean-line interior with many alcoves for different purposes. It’s delightfully homey, warm. Wish I could come and stay here sometime.

A different setting, though I didn’t leave. I’m flying on a Victorian-era airship, same elegant styling as the Titanic (but nothing to do with sinking). There are many spindly metal catwalks providing grand outdoor views, though I concentrate on getting where I want to go without dallying in the more tourist parts of the craft. There was a special metal sauna-type place that was important — that I had to get back to, or go to an event in, or work at perhaps. But it recurred. Maybe it was the transposed location of the Finnish rock cavity from before.

On the ship, at some point my friend and I are parting. I consciously give him a very long hug, trying to imbue it with meaning by summoning my feelings and putting them in to the hug. While the hug lasts a long time it’s weird difficult to bring forth the imagery of how I feel, making the duration seem somehow awkward — almost a feeling of “am I doing it? how about now? now?” Upon reflection, I’d guess this eyes-closed dream was a lull in my sleep cycle.

Attending a solo musical performance in an oddly-shaped locker room. Still on the airship, though you wouldn’t really know it except for the persistent sensation of eye-level clouds stretching in the distance, whenever you look beyond the edge of a walkway. Someone I knew a long time ago as a kid is here, Dayle Zimmer. I don’t know why I might be remembering her.

Testing out a Mohawk in the mirror using just my already fully-grown hair (patting it down into a shape). Looks surprisingly good! The amount leftover on the sides makes it tempting to do more, but then it wouldn’t be a Mohawk. When my hair comes loose, I’m already teetering on the edge of wild madman hair.


Pulling out into a different context, breaking the narrative, I watch as it’s revealed that Captain Kirk is fixing a holodeck panel. It’s quite dissembled and he’s been at it awhile, you can tell. The holodeck is memorably red, white, and chroma-key green, and the reflections off many surfaces give it a confusing surreal perception.

Can’t help myself breaking out giggling because someone said this holodeck would be too big in this new movie… and it totally is.

Categories
Dream Journal

Doing Nothing, Variations

In a shared closet passing in-between rooms I discover a few very cute baby rats. It’s in a house that resembles my childhood home, making this my parent’s master bedroom closet.

I go to search for my buzz razor. My sister Alia is using it to cut her hair in the hallway using a mirror. I know better than to interrupt something like that. Still the same house.

Leaving a hotel, while our arms are full of travel gear, my wife decides she wants to check out the inside of a specific hotel room. She jimmies open the lock and saunters around, proceeding to lie down on a bed. We’re spending a little too long and I start to get worried that she’ll fall asleep, and begin complaining to her. I’m starting to suspect that there’s more to her motives than mere idle curiosity.


Map-based naval video game where the strategy to advance is unclear. A long featureless coast with a small inland lagoon. Beach waves endlessly repeating. Patiently, I expend a disgraceful time not doing much in the game. Not particularly minding, either. I don’t notice the blocks of cash at southeast corner until after I exit the map, immediately realizing that was probably the way to win.

Categories
Dream Journal

Study Peak, Down Icy Trail

A group of us are studying at the end of a trail up a tall mountain. I end up the last one studying at the waist-high workbenches. Once the instructor/monitor (my 10th grade English teacher Ms. Roos?) brings this to my attention, I leave and say hi to Sherilyn sitting in a small cubby-like room off to the side of the exit, wearing fishnets, perhaps working as a librarian.

Shortly thereafter I’m asked to get something off a high shelf — on the trail — and I’m “caught” by my landlord, who has a ponytail. No clue why he’d be upset by that, but that sounds like him.

Even further down, there’s a very steep, conical icy slope. As I slide down the crunchy snow, I relate to someone the posted warnings I saw about “Karen”, a trans lady in our [dreamt] social group who perpetrated some property destruction before she got it together and become trans.

I notice my facial hair in a mirror. The left side of my face is shaved into a goatee and sideburns, while the right is still a beard. And looking up, my hair has a wide ¼ off-center stripe shaved out to match, with my long hair hanging over on either side. It looks pretty stylish, but I think I couldn’t pull it off in real life on account of short side hairs.