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dreamstate writing 11 May 2018

5/11/2018

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During much of this morning’s dream I was worming my way through the hallways and staircases of a vast series of interlocking, cliff-mounted structures. Sometimes I was alone, and sometimes hordes of other people crowded into the structures’ rooms, making it hard for me to move around. I was trying to get from one disc golf tee-box to another, but these were spaced far apart from one another and the layout of the place was confusing, causing me to climb many stairs and squeeze down many tunnels built into and through the homes of the people living there. Each time I threw my discs, they sailed out of view. Although I knew were they had landed, I had a difficult time figuring out how to get there through the maze of interlocking buildings.

At one point, I was standing at the top of a staircase conferring with some of the people judging the event (or who were at least doing something officious). Turning around, I found the stairs behind me so impossibly packed with people that my only recourse for descending to the floor below was to jump out over the side of the railing and hand-carry myself on the outside edges of the individual steps to the floor below. As I reached the bottom my legs brushed against the stockinged feet of a lass resting with two other women on a couch. She immediately stripped her socks off whilst giving me evil looks, to which I responded (as I was walking out a nearby door) by mocking her concern for her striped and colorful socks, saying something like “My legs aren’t that dirty.”


Later in the dream sequences, I was in an alpine city built onto level ground that was covered with a few inches of slushy snow. Despite the presence of frozen precipitation I knew the city was on Bali, the Island of the Gods, somewhere high up the side of one of its towering volcanoes. The city was party ruined, many of its sparsely-placed high-rise buildings damaged or collapsed, but its streets were packed with cars, buses, and people attending to business. Twice whilst in the city I stepped up into a burnt-out single-family home in which stood a representation of my deceased father, an older man with grey hair but strong arms and big hands who embraced me in a great hug and asked why I was groaning in pain and weeping loudly. (After the second time meeting the older man I indeed lay awake in bed crying, hugging myself about the chest, and basking in the memory of those who have died before me.) Falling back asleep, I found myself sitting in the slushy snow talking to a bypassing woman wearing a tan overcoat, who had stopped to admonish me to seek a drier place to sit lest I catch the sniffles.

The thick wool socks I was wearing, though they like the rest of me sat in mounds of cold wet, were nonetheless bone dry, which to my dream-consciousness seemed slightly odd.

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
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dreamstate writing 28 Feb 2018

2/28/2018

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[This dream occurred at roughly 7am, after I had crawled back into bed following completion of all twelve steps of my morning qigong meditation.]

We were driving down a steep hill in a grey vehicle. I was in the passenger seat greatly concerned that we would crash into the debris that dotted the grassy hill - beams and bars of steel, piles of sandstone blocks, and stacks of cut wood. At the top of a rise we stopped, where I voiced my concerns to the driver, who merely stared forward, his face an unreadable mien. Below the rise stood the first tee of a disc-golf course next to a dead tree, but my companion turned and walked back up the way we’d come. I followed him back upward onto a dirt path that lead along a ridge covered in snow, from which we surveyed the surrounding countryside of cultivated fields, scattered woods, and distant farm houses.


Walking back down to the tee, we came upon a half dozen other persons kitted out for disc-golf. Somewhere nearby but out of sight a person was screaming with horrible urgency, which scared me enough that I ran for shelter. The formerly dead tree had grown tremendously, great reaching tendrils of a hardened, textured, grey plastic that dug back into the ground, forming a wall. Finding my exit blocked, I turned to find the others standing close by, a massive newcomer in their midst. (He reminded me of a figure from my childhood, a giant scotsman dressed in battle fatigues.) The newcomer apologized for the screaming in a way that took my fear away, at which point the dream changed radically.

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]


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dreamstate writing 14 Dec 2017

12/14/2017

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I was in a throng of other people all queueing for to meet a powerful goddess. Beyond the sunken earthen trench in which we stood waiting lay snow on frozen ground. Set into the walls of the trench every few meters were crude cubbyholes fashioned out of unfinished pine logs, some of which I recognized as places I’ve slept rough. To our right and stretching above us reached a tall building clad in dark marble panels. As we stepped forward to be received we passed by a number of glass-doored rooms recently emptied of their inhabitants.

When it was finally my turn to be judged, the goddess swirled around me, prodding at my various bits and weighing my soul against Truth. From her back and the top of her head appeared to rise glimmering tendrils of an infinite, invisible energy. In the room with us were dozens of watching people, the formerly queueing multitudes. The goddess noted my progress in many areas, challenging me to defend my case to become bodhisattva. I pointed out the steps I’ve made toward living a life of virtue and compassion but was found lacking, and shown the door.

I returned briefly to consciousness (discovering there a full and pressing bladder), then fell back asleep. The dreaming continued in a vast subterranean room (which, too, was paneled with slabs of dark marble) where I and a number of others were searching for a propellered flying boat that had been lost at sea. Analyzing satellite photographs and old maps we were scouring the wind-swept seas. From time to time I would also put my ear to a staticky handheld radio, hoping to detect a clue. Out of the white noise lept a single word, one which caused excitement yet confusion among the dozen-odd people individuals there: America.

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
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