I'm not going to have any dreams if I can't first fall asleep. We went to bed early, around 10-something, but while she dropped off immediately with exhaustion, I couldn't do the same. So after two hours of tossing, I was suddenly inspired to bundle up in sweaters and thick socks and bring a chair and propane lantern into the backyard, where I sat for the last two hours reading Douglas Hofstadter's Metamagical Themas.

Two hours of that (in New Jersey) is enough to make anyone's nose cold, so now I'm inside boiling water for some spaghetti.

She's so peaceful, clutching my pillow to her chest.

1309 EST: Actually, I had lots of really intense dreams, when I finally fell asleep, and yet I can't remember a single one. One image that does seem to persist is a large paper bag, on fire.

War, Large And Small

  • In the quad of Benjamin F. Porter College at UC Santa Cruz, the soldiers are huddled on either side of the battlefield, preparing for a food fight on the scale of a small medieval war (and in the style of same). Declining to join in the festivities, I take a seat as spectator. The shit goes down quick and I'm left on the edge of the trashed landscaping. Getting up, I walk to the other side where my friend Mario has a girl named Chrissy asleep in his lap. He looks up at me and tells me sincerely, "this is the whole reason I am here." He bends down and kisses her affectionately on the forehead. I walk out towards the Hungry Slug Cafe and pass a red-headed guy named Tom who comes storming back the other way a moment later in a rage. I begin to play with some of the trash, like tortillas and dining hall trays. A spontaneous group freestyle frisbee and contact juggling jam starts up using the trash as material. I am impressed with my ability. Dream ends.

  • The Cold War never ended. It's Colder now in 2000 than it ever was before. The recession has turned into another Depression, and I, my friends, and a Winnebago have turned to the highways instead of university for our educations. At the moment we are visiting our enrolled friends at UC Santa Cruz, lounging in the quad and tossing frisbee. Later on we drive out to a huge field outside of town to play a game of hot box. As we play, my father and step-mom show up to join us, as well as an old long-haired man who looks like a combination between Thom Merrilin (from The Wheel Of Time) and Terence McKenna. After a great game, we drive back to Benjamin F. Porter College and are just sitting down when we hear that the United States has just declared war against the USSR as the Soviet Union has just mounted a land invasion near Santa Cruz. All the power goes out and we stand dumb as a battalion of soldiers streams across the far hillside, traveling East. Dream Ends.
i bought a swimming pool for nine dollars, a plastic one that was fairly large, or so i thought (and it really was at first), but when i unfolded it the size was significantly decreased. i started filling it with water slowly, and then realized it was on the side of a busy street and had my little brother move it. he picked it up in his arms water and all and laughed because i'd said it was big but he was oh so strong (or so he thought). he walked to the sidewalk and then threw my pool out onto the road, because he wanted to look at something on the ground. i was angry because i thought he might have broken it, but it was okay, and thusly i dragged it onto the grass to commence filling once again. the cardboard it was in got soggy. it was barely large enough for even a small child to fit into at this point.

somehow the pool was not meeting my expectations so i decided to bring it into a little workshop, and in the end, though i don't remember anything in between.. my pool became a wooden box with water in it. it was much like a square rain barrell that had been sitting out for years. i still loved it, and still called it my swimming pool, but it was just a box. that's all, just a little wooden box.

[F3 | F4]

  • I was walking amongst the dorms. They're so pretty, this time of year, so elegant. Something out of Escher, where the front of the building is modern, the back is Victorian, and the two connect to each other in a moebius loop. Why don't people use this conference room? It's so nice in here, antique furniture, large bookshelves. It seems like something out of a brochure. Oh, and it's 120 degrees F inside, as well.

  • There was an incident on the stage. Something happened, in which a little brat triggered a vulture attack, which released toxic gasses, which caused the small child on stage to become unconscious. The lights were dim; I could hardly see a thing, except a reddish haze over everything within.. My Biology professor came up, and quarantined the area. As the gasses settled, I could see that there was more than just one small child on the stage. There were 2, no, 3, no, 7, all sprawled on the stage. I was too afraid to help them. They were probably already dead, and it was my fault, because I didn't do anything to help.
Your Children love you very much.

A disturbing dream, but only if you have a mind like mine.
It was one of those worrying dreams that didn't make sense, but always kept you worried; a sense of insecurity.

I was with my mom and for some reason she was pregnant. We were at Safeway and after having finished shopping for our groceries, I walk to the parking lot with her pushing the cart.

The Parking lot becomes some steep hill for some reason. And suddenly...

My pregnant mother is rolling down the ever-steep hill with the carriage (you know as kids do, where they embark on the bottom support of the cart and ride around the supermarket). And I in disbelief, run to try and catch her, but I can't...

I can't...she's so far from me and I'm scared that she hurts herself...hurts somebody.

And then the rest of the dream is pretty much me chasing her down the steep hill parking lot.

Thad called me up and proposed coming up to Auburn with me. We agreed, and since Jason was down and they wanted to smoke, Thad rode with him while promised to leave in a bit. I was with Alexander, I believe, and we had stopped at some "Home Depot" type of store that mainly sold fences. Gridiron fences. We proceeded to the back, which opened to the bay and had some buildings that were being torn down. Jason started calling and telling me that I should hurry up and come up. I told him that I was on my way and he needed to chill - it had only taken them a few minutes to get up there, but I knew it would take me several hours. I drive back to my house to drop Alexander off when I realize that it is already Sunday. I had completely forgotten about going to Auburn, it was too late to even consider going.

I bump into an old friend, cool Phil, in a cafe or bar or something. He was a real free spirit who had decided he wanted to live in Hungary. I admired his courage. While he is out of the room, his cheap, blue mobile goes off. I can't see him, so I answer and try to explain that he's unavailable. The phone is getting a very weak signal but I understand the caller has a question for Phil. I ask if I can help but the signal is so poor that I can't understand the question.

I can't understand the question.

Needless to say, I wake up feeling pretty upset...

Something about nickels... collecting them? Or perhaps they are tokens in the parts that followed? Also, some sort of meta-dream.

I am in the Army — I am shopping, trying hard to avoid the officers, and then I have to prepare for inspection by a hostile officer who doesn’t like my hair.

This seems to be a recurring dream of sorts, where I have, for reasons I can never really understand, re-enlisted multiple times in the Army, but my hair is styled in a way and length that is definitely not with regulation, but somehow people keep covering for me. The action of the dream, though, centers on my efforts to stay out of view and remain invisible to those who might object to my hairstyle. The crisis usually comes when I realize that, to end my enlistment, I am almost certainly going to need to cut my hair, something I am desperate to avoid.

I dreamt I was in a hospital, but I wasn't sick. I walked into a room where a woman had just delivered a baby boy. The baby was on a gurney, and it was my job to mark the baby with some red-orange jelly - it was some religious duty. I began making the symbol on the baby and it moved, so I started again. Repeat process. So after a couple of minutes of this, the baby is all slippery with goo, and he starts slipping off the gurney. I try to catch him, but he's like one of those water willies, slipping out of one hand as the other catches. The baby ends up on the ground, and I am terrified that the mother is going to beat me up or do something else horrible to me - but the baby is just fine, only slimy and laying on the floor.

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