Last night I had a very interesting and frustrating dream. I can’t remember any of the specifics of what happened; No setting, no characters, no events. All I can remember is the overall feeling of the dream, and one thought that came into my head at some point during it: “This is the happiest dream I’ve ever had. I need to remember this.” I felt sublimely happy and very content, but I knew that I was experiencing something very important. It seemed like I had come to some great realization or something, and I wanted to remember what it was.
Of course, when I woke up I barely remembered the dream at all. But gradually, as I was getting ready I recalled thinking that thought, and remembered the feeling that went with it. Now that though has been bubbling up every now and then all day, and it’s very frustrating not to be able to put together any more of the dream, but at the same time it is comforting to recall the experience, however incompletely.
I am in a video game similar to Fable 2. I am playing as a character with dark tattered clothes and a dark wizard’s hat. I am sneaking around, practicing climbing, jumping and such. I can scale buildings easily and jump great distances with cat-like precision. Eventually I climb to the top of a tall building and, looking through a knothole in a pine fence, see a fairly large house built on top of the building. It is built in rustic style but incorporates modern, metallic elements and looks like it was made with whatever materials were available. In the yard, which is mostly paved with stones, but also has some grass and a garden, two sorcerers are tending a pot over a fire. It is steaming and bubbling violently, and there are several round windows into the inside which are illuminated by a strange light. One of the sorcerers, a man, is standing by it, stirring it at intervals, while the other, a woman and maybe the man’s wife, is sitting in a sling chair and reading directions.
I found myself in a very large, unfinished mansion that was inhabited by a family with five daughters. I met the five of them together in a large area just inside the front door, and they showed me some skate ramps they were working on. The house was at least four stories tall, but was being built from the outside in. Only the outer walls, roof and some rooms on the north and south sides were complete, leaving a cavernous interior space, at the center of which grew a large tree. In the extra space the girls were building several huge skate ramps. There was a tall half-pipe just to the right of the entrance, and above and to the right of that another one with a huge roll-in and a kind of long loop ramp from which one could transfer all the way to the opposite bank of the lower pipe. After our initial meeting, each of the girls wanted to show me their bedroom. I cannot remember all of the rooms, but I went first with the middle daughter. Her room was blue, with a sloped wall on one side and a brown dresser. She jumped on her bed, flipped upside down, and planted her feet on the ceiling, leaving a pair of dusty footprints. She had blond hair and wore a light colored dress with a poofy underskirt. Later, I was back in the center of the house and I noticed something on the ceiling all the way at the top of the house. There was some writing, and underneath it, more footprints. I asked how they had gotten there, and the youngest daughter said she would show me. She handed me a skateboard and we climbed up to the top of the lower half-pipe. We dropped in and pumped back and forth for a while before she transferred all the way up and over into the higher ramp. I dont know how I followed her; maybe I had to climb, but somehow I found myself in the other ramp with her. She continued to build up speed, going higher and higher, and finally she went straight up the roll-in, launched off the top, touched her feet to the ceiling, and landed on a little ledge about ten feet below. “Come on,” she called to me, “I’ll show you my room now.” Again, I somehow found myself on the ledge with her, and we walked along it to the corner of the house, where there was a tiny doorway. We ducked through it, into a small rectangular room, all white and furnished only with a little bed and a vanity with a mirror and a few drawers. It had one window. The girl asked me if I wanted any “tropical juice,” and poured some red juice into a plastic cup. I said I didn’t want any, so she raised the cup to her lips. As she drank, I noticed that her elbow had gone through the wall, as if we were in a video game. I realized that the house was a digital model.
I seem to have a lot of dreams involving characters or events from Harry Potter, especially Dumbledore, as well as dreams in which I am a fugitive on the run from something or someone. Last night I had one that combined both these themes:
I am at a kind of boot camp / prison. It is a one story compound located somewhere just behind or perhaps on palmer lane, the street in back of my parents’ house. The place has a long central corridor where everything happens, and has tiny cells/rooms all along its length. All our cell phone signals are jammed and a radar screen showing the locations of everyone in the building is broadcast to our phones instead. If you go to the windows on the south end, however, you can sometimes get a signal. Late one night, I go down there and move carefully from window to window, trying to get service to check my messages. Finally I get a message about my brother. He is now a barber, and the message says something like “The haircut was very good, he left too many stems though.” I didn’t know my brother was selling weed, so I decide I should get out and see what’s going on and make sure he’s safe. I go outside the room I am in but the warden, Brian (the conservative kid from my class, mixed with elements of Kyle Pelke), is waiting for me. Ironically, he is cutting the hair of one of the other officers and is holding a razor ready to shave him. He brandishes the razor at me and says, “Going somewhere?” I bolt toward the north end of the building, duck into one of the rooms and break the window with my elbow. I climb out and struggle through a pitch black tangle of brambles and bushes, ending up in someone’s backyard. I run as fast as I can around to the front of the house and into the street. I can hear them behind me but I don’t think they can see me just yet. I cross the street at the intersection of Lower Ferry and Stuyvesant and slip through the gate of the Deaf School. I decide to head for Hagrid’s hut, because I know the headmaster of the school (Dumbledore?) has forbid the warden from entering that part of the grounds. The sun must have come up by now, because it is getting very light out, and the officers have picked up my trail again. I am running like a madman, faster than ever before, jumping huge gaps and climbing rocks like they are nothing. Finally I reach the border beyond which the officers cannot go. The warden sends his daughter to come after me in his place. I hide behind the corner of one of the school buildings and when she comes around, she does not attempt to capture me, but sits down to talk. She is very pretty, half black with dark eyes and a lot of curly hair, and she has a gun but she puts it down as she sits. We talk for about fifteen minutes, and she apologizes for her father’s behavior. Finally, she goes back, and I continue on to Hagrid’s.
For a long time I have been keeping a dream journal, and it never really occurred to me to post dreams on this blog, but it seems like a good idea, so I think I’m going to start doing it. I always like hearing about other people’s dreams, so I suppose some people might like to hear mine. This is what I dreamt last night:
I am in a small beach town with brick buildings and cobblestone streets and lots of pine and cypress trees. In the beginning, I am eating dinner on the beach with some family and friends and I make comment about how I want to surf but I don’t really care about doing any really fancy tricks, I just want to flow with the water. That makes my uncle Hugh happy and he stands up and points at me in a “Yeah, right on!” sort of way.
Later I am surfing outside a small street full of shops and stuff. The beach is sooo long and slopes dramatically uphill, and the waves break huge even in really shallow parts. Also there are pine trees and rocks everywhere, so everyone has to be careful. I find a spot almost at the top of the beach, where a little kid is also surfing. He is pretty cool and we share the spot. I see some huge waves come up before i am ready to get started, but once I am in the water, only small waves make their way that far up the beach. Finally a decent sized one comes up and I catch it. I ride up the beach, through some trees, and the wave begins to get even bigger. It pushes up over the beach, into the street, getting even taller, and finally breaks on a building, throwing me off my board. I land on my feet on a one-story-high roof and everyone cheers for me. My first wave! I raise my fist in acknowledgment. I am afraid to jump off the roof, however, so I gingerly work my way down and get back in the water.
Later I am inside the building I landed on, now on the second floor, with Christian, his cousin, Darin, and some other people. We are in a room that I have been in before, and in which Jimpster and my mom spent some time as well. There is a cup of juice left on a table that I left there a long time ago and Jimpster tried but didn’t like. We are all about to go to sleep, but someone puts some good music on and I start dancing. I do a crazy twirling heel-toe kind of dance and everybody enjoys it. Later Jonathan comes back, and sometime after that, everyone goes to sleep.
I had two dreams last night.
In the first, I was a reporter working in Paris doing a story on two British musicians. The three of us, one a young red-headed woman, the other a slightly older man dressed like Oliver Twist, and I, sat on a deserted street outside a tiny bar in a desolate corner of the city. We talked and played guitar and I told them that my camera was specially programmed to fill every photo with love and happiness.
In the second, I and everyone I knew was years older, but it took place in the past. I still had all the old stuff I have now, but it was all new. There was no microwave and no computer. I was either 28 or 47, and my uncle Hugh had organized a photography competition for my entire family. He gave each of us an original Leica 1 and a bunch of Kodachrome film that he’d won in a raffle at his job. The only rule was that we could not leave the property. Uncle Hugh, my mother, and my aunt Nancy were all old and frail so they sat on the front step while my cousins and brothers and I ran around taking pictures. At the end there was an awards ceremony but I don’t remember who won. After the ceremony my Uncle got mad at my Aunt and told her she didn’t take good pictures.
How bad is it that I actually dream about Leicas and Kodachrome.
Does anyone want to do yoga with me? Or aikido?
13 days of class. Then summer.
Last night I dreamed that when I was walking home from school I found two tiny white cobras coiled up together in one of those wire plant holder things, which was on th wall of my house. My house in the dream was not the same as my real house, though. It was really old, made of brick, and had a dungeon underneath it with a huge wood burning oven. Also, Alton Brown lived there. Alton told me that cobras were nothing to worry about and i should go out and play with them. I went out to look for them, but they had left the plant thing and gotten into the dungeon. I picked up one of the cobras by the neck, and tied the other one around the bars of a door so he couldn’t escape. I went back outside and walked through this open-air hallway thing, letting the cobra coil up around my hand. I was about to take him inside and show everyone, but before I got to the door, he got mad and bit me on my hand (in exactly the same place that I have a mole on my real-life hand) I threw him out a window.
Later, in the same dream, I realized it was Thanksgiving and that Alton probably needed help making the gravy. I went outside to help and found the camera crew of Good Eats, and a monkey dressed up like Eazy-E. Instead of cooking the gravy like they were supposed to, they were mixing it with ash from the wood burning stove and spreading it all over the bricks of the walkway, because the monkey told them it had to be properly sealed before winter. It was snowing.
I was with Polly, Devon, Darin, Christie, Vince, Yapes and some random girl I used to work with at CVS, and we were all exploring an abandoned building in England. It was some type of high-class former mental hospital, and there were a bunch of really nice buildings and the grounds were still kept up pretty nicely. For some reason there were also hundreds of other people there too, just walking around like it was a museum.
Vince and I walked upstairs in one of the bigger buildings, and we found a huge room with an indoor pool that looked like it was at least a few stories deep. While we were looking at the pool, three Latino guys walked in and stood next to us. Each one reached in his pocket in turn, pulled out a dove, and tossed it gently into the pool, muttering something in Spanish. I asked them where they’d found the three doves, and one of them said that they had caught them in the building next door and were trying to train them to “pwn n00bs.” After that we walked down to the other end of the room and around a corner and found a shallow wading pool. It was only a few inches deep, but sitting in the middle of it were two huge swans.
Then we walked down some stairs and through some old hallways with high ceilings and came to a doorway that led outside to a little lake that was in the middle of the property. The beach around the lake was made of ground up bricks. We started climbing up some rocks and Vince, who had an unexplained British accent, told me anecdotes from his childhood in Italy.
At the top of the rocks, I met Christie, Polly, Devon and Darin. Polly was talking to a girl with a Scottish accent, who was going on about her favorite band. Polly told her that her band sucked, and she got angry and walked away. After that we went toward the exit, where we were joined by Yapes and Latrice, the girl that used to work at my CVS. We had just started browsing in the gift shop, which was pretty similar to the one at the end of Tower of Terror, when I woke up thinking I was wearing gloves.