Dreaming about the weather
October 31st, 2005 by Adrian Sampson; no comments
Tim Geaghan, my humanities professor, is at a very small social gathering that seems to consist of him, myself, and maybe one or two other people from my hum class (although the gathering still feels relatively public, perhaps even a small, relaxed party). I ask Tim where Jackie, Tim’s assistant and our class’ tutor, is. He tells me, “This hasn’t been Jackie’s best week.”
I realize that some horrible things must have happened to Jackie last Friday, probably of the romantic sort (I had no evidence for this). Additionally, as Tim tells me, “It’s been raining since Thursday.” I become outside and can feel that is indeed drizzling, but I have to trust Tim that it’s been raining all weekend. It’s strange because this is Southern California.
I don’t understand why Jackie would dislike the rain. Personally, I have been craving it. (Also in RL.)
Everywhere’s a Beach
October 31st, 2005 by Ariana Rose Taylor-Stanley; 4 comments
I am going to visit Jeff on the “desert island” (it was not actually a desert, just deserted, and actually more like a clump of ground covered in grass that happened to be sticking out of the water. The Magnetic Fields have poisoned my mind) where he has been living since running away from home. Kailani is on the island with him, sitting under a tree. I swim up and they are not surprised to see me. Soon after, my parents arrive. I am disappointed that they have joined us because I will not get to have the talk I was planning on having with Jeff. (I am actually planning on having this talk.) They have brought food and we dine together at a picnic table on the island.
Flying
October 30th, 2005 by Kris Skotheim; no comments
I can feel the wind blowing across my face very hard and I can feel that falling-rising feeling in my stomach, I am obviously flying. I am afraid, though, that if I open my eyes I will fall or I will wake up or some other disaster will occur.
Philly Toast?
October 30th, 2005 by Sean Fraga; no comments
i am in a city that feels sort of like philadelphia but isn’t. i am in a restaurant with my sisters. this restaurant serves only toast, which is apparently french toast, since they make it by pouring batter into molds. they have an extensive menu and are very busy.
i can hear my parents yelling at me from outside the restaurant; they’re displeased that i’m in the toast restaurant because my grandparents are here and i don’t see them very often. although i protest, my grandparents pay for the toast.
the scene shifts and i am in the raised stone courtyard of a library. there’s a rise around the edge, that you can sit on. my family leaves, and i’m alone with a woman who i figure out is a freshman at UPenn or some other university near there. this is not an interview, but she tells me about the business school. i politely do not tell her that i am not interested in business.
eventually i find out that she grew up on nantucket. “what must that have been like?” i ask (my grammar in dreams is suspect). she tells me that she told boys to fuck off.
the sun rises and hits the glass on a building on one side of the courtyard. at some point in the dream i have cut my hair and am confused when i wake up with long hair.
Someday this is actually going to happen
October 30th, 2005 by Ariana Rose Taylor-Stanley; no comments
The part I remember is accidentally sweeping all the earrings off my dresser. When I picked them up I noticed there were three of a certain pair. I realized that this was impossible, so I must be dreaming and “woke” myself up, only to find myself curled up on the floor next to a bunch of spilled earrings.
(It got much more exciting but the rest eludes me…)
Purpose
October 28th, 2005 by Kris Skotheim; 2 comments
So, last night I was so deprived of sleep and comfort that my conscious thoughts were completely unbounded like a dream even though I was awake. Technically, I was awake when ‘dreaming’ this, but for all practical purposes I was not conscious.
I have been working on a math problem for the past six hours, it is 6 in the morning. I find myself face down on my rug curled in a fetal position, but I don’t know what I am doing there. I must be trying a new approach to this proof, but I can’t begin to imagine why. I consider going to sleep, but I know that there is something that I have to do before I can do that, I just can’t figure out what that something is. I get up and walk around for a while before settling back to my original position; my mind returns to the math problem. I close my eyes and reconsider sleeping but decide a second time that if I was trying to sleep I would be tucked into my bed and not completely dressed.
haze at best
October 27th, 2005 by Joel Bombardier; no comments
There was new shampoo and conditioner on the table when I got home. Though I don’t remember running out, it was the spency stuff too.
…
Someone kept pinching my rump and commenting on how hard it was.
In part
October 27th, 2005 by Anna Scott; no comments
I dreamed I kissed Gillon.
Nissa’s Disease
October 26th, 2005 by Kris Skotheim; no comments
I am terribly sick. My disease came from the internet, Nissa gave it to me.
Thanksgiving is next month
October 25th, 2005 by Adrian Sampson; no comments
Coincidentally, Claire and I are on the same flight to Seattle. I am going home, but I don’t bother to ask where she’s going (she is from Pennsylvania). We talk on the flight but go our separate ways after getting off the plane. I walk to where the buses come, which is a small alcove into the side of the terminal with just enough room for a bus to enter, turn around, and leave (in fact, it would be much to small for a bus to fit in — it was about ten feet by twenty feet). A road enters the alcove on the left, makes a U, and exits again. As I arrive, Claire is already there, but has just missed her bus.
I offer Claire help with the bus system, because I know how it works (actually, I have only cursory knowledge of the Seattle bus system, but in the dream, I knew it perfectly). I become very excited as I realize that I am familiar with my surroundings, feel elated at the sensation of going home, and come to the verge of tears — there may have been one tear. Claire sympathizes.
In order to catch the correct bus, we need to climb over one of the walls of the alcove. Just over the wall, we find ourselves in downtown Seattle near upscale clothing shops. It is night and the air is deliciously moist (the air here is oppressively dry). We look around for a while, and it soon becomes necessary to climb back over the wall, which now requires that we get over a very decorative fountain, which fortunately has lots of handholds in the sheer vertical faces.
(Claire is a fellow Westie. I had this dream during a nap directly after we walked back from math, talking about home — we both chose Harvey Mudd over a college about half an hour away from our hometown (UW, Carnegie Mellon). She is extremely glad not to have stayed near home. I also wouldn’t have it any other way, but I seem to have lots of wistful dreams about home.)