Dream Journal

Hardware Store Naps thru Greek Island Graphs

I’m enlightened and free. I’m also younger than I am currently in the waking world. Because I can, I take a nap in a hardware store. Something to do isn’t it? (I remember sleeping in dreams more often than I used to — perhaps a sign that I’m able to recall more of the story from a complete REM cycle.)

Wandering over to the Christmas discounts section, but I can’t get through because my cart blocks the aisle. I’m wearing my favorite fleece-lined burgundy winter hoodie (which I’ve only had since this October). I pass through a section at the back of the store, near the underground parking lot, which is special for today, similar to a craft fair: many vendors behind tables each sell individual items for model train sets. The sellers (all redheads) are arranged in a square-ish gradient by the shade of their hair, a peculiar effect I don’t think I’ve noticed anywhere before.

For a little while afterwards, I’m separating coffee beans from big chunks of salt mixed in. While my hands are busy I discuss something with my friend Sherilyn (who I’ve not seen in several years). We’re talking as though I had once had a crush on her. I wish I understood better what we were talking about.

My wife mentions hope of one day soon vacationing in Greek islands. I take it upon myself, with a new insight that moment, to plan this trip thoroughly based on transfers between islands — ie, if make it here by 4:00 we go here this day, otherwise stay at this hotel leave 10:00 tomorrow, etc. I can make priorities and possibilities completely that way, almost like graph theory upon reflection

My wife mentions her hope of one day vacationing in the Greek islands — perhaps soon. I take it upon myself, with spur-of-the-moment insight, to thoroughly plan a trip based on timed transfers between islands. For instance, if we made it to a certain island by 4pm we could visit a certain place — but if we missed our ETA, we’d stay at a particular hotel, then leave at 10 the next morning. There were fallbacks and chains of causality laid out quite clearly. Upon reflection, it felt like exploring graph theory to prioritize and plan the trip.


Weird Street

Look at you, in your little green tutu with the pink trim. I see you’re co-ordinated with the tights. And with the pink and green foofura tufts around the shade structures, even. Who just keeps neon green fishnets lying around the house, nowadays? You do. Great getup… although it doesn’t really match the wig. That is a wig, I hope? The dark sunglasses bring everything together and remind me that, hey, you have facial hairyou have facial hair. Your girlfriend’s pretty hot too.

I went to the How Weird Street Fair along Howard street, here in San Francisco. A very San Francisco event. Midday not many people were there, but the later I stayed the more teeming and freaky and hot it became. When I say hot, I mean summertime-hot, unforeseen unseasonably early-May hot, hojeez I think my sunburn matches my red shirt hot. Lots of people-watching, loads of dancing, more loud music than you could shake the ground at. It’s like a preview of Burning Man without the water rationing. I didn’t dance—a reasonable fear of overheating. Perhaps also an unreasonable fear that dancing would annoy more than amuse.

Heard there was talk of shutting it down, before. I left earlier in the day, around three, and missed some action. There’s a lot of talk now about shutting it down, after. I sure hope not. Seems about ten or fewer people on the street don’t like the noise it causes one Sunday a year. Despite the signed petition of around 100 residents, the city and police wanna be rid of it. Damned if I’m the first to say it—but that’s pretty weird.