Dream Journal

Hang Gliding in the Dark

Someone has stolen the truckbed, the entire back half of my pickup, from where it was parked on the street outside my apartment. I set up a rainbow umbrella while I’m attempting to deal with it but it partially blocks the sidewalk.

I’m part of a kink community event. Rich takes on a dog persona. Parked nearby is a car with two vanity plates, but in reversed order, should read something like PSU-DO 640,000.

I’m sitting on a large flat rock, outside a compound built into massive stone. Perhaps this is where the event is. I’m under this big rock overhang, kind of has a feel like the forest from a cartoon (like the Smurfs or David the Gnome).

Hang gliding in the dark from the perch of a promontory, despite that I’ve been told I shouldn’t because it’s dangerous. I don’t think it’s dangerous for me. The silhouetted treelines are gorgeous. While flying overhead avoiding it’s dark streets, I think about the problem of a town which is in this beautiful natural area, but which was allowed to be built crowded and ugly. I make a certain bird sound as I fly up toward a ridge. Learning of an old growth giant sequoia which was cut down here, then tracing it through history from the late 1800s. It seems it was never fully processed and was allowed to rot in place. The tree possibly grew back from that remnant, which I’ve never encountered before. A woman talks about the appearance of the tree from behind newsdesk cut out in the base of another tree, comparing the regrown tree to “cum, a kind of spirit”.

Records of what happened to it are very scant though.

Dream Journal

Ol’ Time Traveling Kinky Mr. Rogers

Taking others to see a young paraplegic gymnast, someone I worked with in another dream or movie. She can land from cliffside high bars into a cliffside cave, it’s rock walls patched up with decrepit tile. It reminds me of secretive passages of the Moiety resistance from the game Riven.

I look into a mirror and I’m an older version of my friend Spy. I’m feeling happy, pleasantly humbled, and I speak of how it’s possible to time travel (although you always make a mess). Connects with a quote I read yesterday from Roseanne Barr, of all people, who said “I do kabbalistic meditation. It’s not unlike time travel; it can change the past and not just the future. You can look at what was lost and go beyond the grief of what was lost.”

Another odd and wonderful segment of the dream was receiving advice on both leather-working and kink relationships from the man, Mr. Fred McFeely Rogers.