Dream Log: October 20, 2001

It was the dead of night as I walked down a local street. There were torrents of water everywhere, washing debris along the roads and flooding everything. As I looked into the night sky I saw in the distance a huge plume of spray being flung high into the air, and as I looked I realised it had come from my road.

Suddenly I was in my back garden, and huge waves were rolling, submerging and destroying everything. Every so often a huge wave would smash into a wall in our neighbour's garden, sending spray hundreds of feet into the air, then the waters would recede briefly, shallow enough to try to run for safety. But it was no good, the waves came back, and I was submerged and thrown helplessly about until they once again receded.

I looked over into our neighbour's garden and saw their daughter struggling against the water, then watched as a huge wave smashed into their wall, smashing it to pieces and sending the bricks collapsing on top of her. When the water receded I saw she was now submerged under the knee-deep water, trapped under the collapsed wall. I went over to help but another huge wave rolled over the gardens and submerged me and everything else, smashing me back into another wall.

I tried again to help but I could not get near her as she lay trapped and drowning. Eventually I was so battered I passed out and saw nothing more.

I'm somewhere in Arizona, and I have a mission. I don't remember exactly what the mission is -I don't think I even fully knew when I committed to it- but it involves launching an extremely powerful model rocket, one that seems like it can actually reach orbit. It's the night before, but I can't sleep on the 2-cushion couch provided for me. There is a network of spider webs on the side of the couch, underneath a ceiling/wall window displaying the brilliant night sky. One of these spiders is about the size of my hand, and yellow and black and smooth, but I'm not worried because it soon curls into a ball.

I find myself in a large department store of some kind. I'm looking for the young woman I have to meet up with as part of the mission, and I'm carrying two plastic bags, the one in my right hand containing the rocket, other essentials in the left hand. I eventually find her, with a third person who will somehow be important. "Are we gonna do it," I ask. She's annoyed with me. "Yeah, let's get out of here." "But I thought this was the place." Apparently something went wrong. The three of us hightail it out of there. On the way her mysterious companion tells me, "it's her last birthday you know." The young woman looks up at me with a slight grin, I can't decide whether it is sarcastic or genuine. (The woman is short, with dark brown slightly curly hair and bright alive brown eyes. Her companion is of indeterminate age, tall and thin with very curly black hair, a cruel glint in his dark eyes and at the corner of his lips.)

Somewhere in the commotion I've lost my bags. I get angry about this and berate the others over my misfortune. Our plans have changed and the rocket is no longer necessary, but I still feel lost and out of my element. We board a plane. It is a commercial jet, with its one passenger compartment about half full. I am sitting with the young woman, and although I cannot see the cockpit, it seems certain to me that her companion is piloting the plane. I can also somehow communicate with him.

Soon, although we take off smoothly, we start flying dangerously low. The plane has now morphed into a rickety old biplane, transporting only the three of us, and I can actually feel the water lapping against its belly. The young woman is screaming next to me, pointing to waves as they loom out to meet us, breaking out of the seemingly solid patterns they appeared to have from a higher altitude. I'm pretty agitated too, I feel certain that our pilot is doing this intentionally. I tell him as much and he says, "Relax, this is just exactly how it needs to be."

The next thing I know I am swimming underwater, with a strong current in a direction that I hope is shoreward. I reach the surface, and after what seems like a long time, I look around me. Our pilot seems to be running on the water. Not actually running on top of the water, but every time he reaches the crest of a wave, he kicks powerfully and flies out ahead of it, his legs flailing out at empty air. Very quickly he becomes a blurred figure far away, and at this point I can see the beach, a thin strip of bright golden sand extending as far as I can see to my right and left and hemmed in by a lush jade forest. The pilot is very near to it, but I still have a ways to go. I try to imitate his run-jump-surf style, but cannot. I notice that he has cleared the final wave and landed perfectly on his feet on the shore, giving a final jubilant leap when he does. By the time I reach safety, neither he nor the woman can be found. But I hear his voice again, saying "it's her last birthday, you know," and I feel certain that she is safe and happy and he is responsible for this. I feel peaceful and not at all weary from my ordeal, and I wake.

Dreamed that Burning Man was being held in a small northern California costal town, it seemed to be somewhere north of Santa Barbara. The town was on a brushy mesa at the very edge of the sea. Houses and roads tumbled and wandered down the sandstone cliffside to the arc of sandy beach and tumbled rock below.
We arrived to find that the townspeople had agreed to give up their town, letting it become Black Rock City for the week. All the people had cleared out of their homes, and left them there for us to live in. The shops were open, but operating on a barter economy principle.
We were led to our quarters. My family and friends and I were to share part of a large old California Craftsman style house with another group. We each got a section of house, and would share kitchen work. The house was lovely, all brown-shingled and deep-porched, perched high on the cliff overlooking the breakers to the left and a pine forest slope to the water's edge on the opposite side. I was very happy with the whole arrangement, and decided to go out and explore town a bit. Outside, I could hear music playing, on the beach people were dancing all along the shore.
Then I was back in the house. I'd gone out and about, but the next scene was back inside. I was getting ready to sleep, lying down on a mat on the floor when my cat Bill came in the door. He told me he'd won an award for being the most snuggly cat of all, and he said he'd show me his technique. I lay down, and he curled up in front of my face, into a round cat shape. He rested his big chin on my hand, his nose to mine. He explained that if he lay in a ball like that, that people could lie in a circle around him, heads pointed inward; They'd be like spokes on a wheel, and he'd be the hub, and they could all sleep like that while he provided maximum snuggling potential. I thought he was very smart,
and I slowly woke
to find him nestled on my pillow, sleeping with his head on my hand.