Chilling out, sitting on the shore of a small island, not very beachy, not built up, not too woodsy either. At least Prifs and Brittany B from college are there. A younger guy I hadn't met was with us too.
We asked him what his major was in college, and he said it was something technically useless that gave him a wide range of useless knowledge, like "The leading causes of death in humans are rot and kingfisher disease."
Since we asked, he explained that "kingfisher crabs" cause the disease, and they live in the forest. I mentioned that, though I had never seen a kingfisher crab in the forest, I had caught crayfish out of a creek once [yes, that happened in real life].
Also, I had caught some fish earlier way down the coast to our right (actually on a very close separate island, where apparently our academy-like monolithic dorms were located).
Showing posts with label nonsense words. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nonsense words. Show all posts
Friday, July 27, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
I'm so mad at you, you could live for everyone in June.
I was in the back seat of a car; a wife and husband in their forties were in front, the wife driving. Someone else was in the back, to my left.
For some reason, the husband was brandishing a revolver, pointing it at the wife to compel her to drive somewhere. Stranger, though, was that he held the gun up around the same height as his neck and angled it down towards her. I advised lowering it so that people outside wouldn't see what was going on, but he continued holding it up.
The wife, frustrated, said: "I'm so mad at you, you could live for everyone in June."
"Try August!" I said. Somehow I think she was wishing all the summer heat upon him.
For some reason, the husband was brandishing a revolver, pointing it at the wife to compel her to drive somewhere. Stranger, though, was that he held the gun up around the same height as his neck and angled it down towards her. I advised lowering it so that people outside wouldn't see what was going on, but he continued holding it up.
The wife, frustrated, said: "I'm so mad at you, you could live for everyone in June."
"Try August!" I said. Somehow I think she was wishing all the summer heat upon him.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Blew their minds with a song about bears
There was a battle-of-the-bands type contest going on between a rock band of Metallica-grade self-importance, and us (me and Kevin S and maybe Ray).
The Metallickesque band had just made an earnest, rocky song, and it was our turn to create a song to challenge it. We ended up copping the song structure from their song and changing it into an inane lounge song.
Kevin S wrote the words, and as we played the song for the other band, in like a backstage hangout room, written lyrics magically unfurled on one side of my field of vision, as though it were on TV.
The other band was dumbfounded as we played. I worked out some kind of chord/bass progression on the left (chordy) side of an accordion (though the sound coming out sounded like a perc/rotary organ).
It was in B flat. The words were kind of like:
1 Prose. x . . . . . . . 3b 3b 3b 2 1 Rock music history, Who-knows. x . . . . . . . It's such a mystery. Bears. [Something about bears..] Bears. [etc.]
Of course I probably did some random post-awakening edits while trying to piece it back together, but it was to that effect.
The Metallickesque band had just made an earnest, rocky song, and it was our turn to create a song to challenge it. We ended up copping the song structure from their song and changing it into an inane lounge song.
Kevin S wrote the words, and as we played the song for the other band, in like a backstage hangout room, written lyrics magically unfurled on one side of my field of vision, as though it were on TV.
The other band was dumbfounded as we played. I worked out some kind of chord/bass progression on the left (chordy) side of an accordion (though the sound coming out sounded like a perc/rotary organ).
It was in B flat. The words were kind of like:
1 Prose. x . . . . . . . 3b 3b 3b 2 1 Rock music history, Who-knows. x . . . . . . . It's such a mystery. Bears. [Something about bears..] Bears. [etc.]
Of course I probably did some random post-awakening edits while trying to piece it back together, but it was to that effect.
House party, boozed and bruised car, awkward ninja girl
A bunch of folks were partying in the left-side (i.e. port side) driveway of the house I lived in. I was sitting in the driver seat of my car, with the car facing the side of the house next door, only a few feet away. It was nighttime.
Among the party guests was someone I identified with Zach W, who was standing between the hood of my car and the side wall of the next door house. There was loud electronic dance music playing, and he was fiddling with a stage lighting device, which was strobing and brightly shining various colors.
Even though a strip of the lights were placed on the hood in front of me, and facing me, something managed to block it from shining straight in my eyes.
There was a 24-pack of beer on the floor in front of the passenger seat, more than half of which had been emptied out/consumed. I reached and grabbed another, mentioning to Ray (who was standing outside the driver side window) that we had to finish all the beer before we could go driving anywhere. (Ray seemed skeptical.)
Later, after having spent some time inside the house, I came back out, and found (as I had already heard from others) that my car had been badly trashed (vandalized perhaps, or abused by partygoers). I looked at the rear bumper, seeing that it had been replaced by a really cheap looking, mint-green bumper that was all the wrong dimensions, and wasn't well attached, either.
I walked around the port side of the house and into the back yard, which had a tall (10+ feet) wooden fence along the back, with perhaps a small street behind it. It was mid- to late afternoon now.
As I walked into the back yard, out of nowhere a young woman comes flying over the fence and lands upright, just in front of me. She's wearing a white, decorated t-shirt or the like, and has reddish, dirty blond, somewhat poofy long hair.
Despite her grand entrance (which might have really been intended to have gone unnoticed), we don't really say much to each other, but I think she looks familiar and ask if we met once before, a while back, around this same place.
She says it's unlikely we've met before, because she lives "at Milwaukee, WI near Largo" (or something weird like that, maybe referring to a street or a metro stop in the DC area).
Among the party guests was someone I identified with Zach W, who was standing between the hood of my car and the side wall of the next door house. There was loud electronic dance music playing, and he was fiddling with a stage lighting device, which was strobing and brightly shining various colors.
Even though a strip of the lights were placed on the hood in front of me, and facing me, something managed to block it from shining straight in my eyes.
There was a 24-pack of beer on the floor in front of the passenger seat, more than half of which had been emptied out/consumed. I reached and grabbed another, mentioning to Ray (who was standing outside the driver side window) that we had to finish all the beer before we could go driving anywhere. (Ray seemed skeptical.)
Later, after having spent some time inside the house, I came back out, and found (as I had already heard from others) that my car had been badly trashed (vandalized perhaps, or abused by partygoers). I looked at the rear bumper, seeing that it had been replaced by a really cheap looking, mint-green bumper that was all the wrong dimensions, and wasn't well attached, either.
I walked around the port side of the house and into the back yard, which had a tall (10+ feet) wooden fence along the back, with perhaps a small street behind it. It was mid- to late afternoon now.
As I walked into the back yard, out of nowhere a young woman comes flying over the fence and lands upright, just in front of me. She's wearing a white, decorated t-shirt or the like, and has reddish, dirty blond, somewhat poofy long hair.
Despite her grand entrance (which might have really been intended to have gone unnoticed), we don't really say much to each other, but I think she looks familiar and ask if we met once before, a while back, around this same place.
She says it's unlikely we've met before, because she lives "at Milwaukee, WI near Largo" (or something weird like that, maybe referring to a street or a metro stop in the DC area).
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Apartment life in post-apocalyptia
In post-apocalyptia, I and a few friends (one male and one female, I think), had just returned to our apartment. We were arguing about what to do with our paper money (probably because it wasn't currently worth anything). The guy was trying to show how we could use the paper money to make our rides more aerodynamic.
(Our rides were little battery-powered boxes on wheels, perhaps two feet cubed, barely big enough for our butts to rest on. He unlatched the top of his, and was folding the edge of a multi-dollar bill and slipping it in and over the battery to demonstrate what he meant.)
We then did some mental exercise, imagining what to do in case of a zombie attack. In our imagination, a woman was walking down a sidewalk while fending off a not-so-clever male zombie who had been bitten in the arm.
Our apartment building was surprisingly well-maintained, and well lit by daylight, though completely empty of furniture. It looked like a building that had just barely finished being constructed before the apocalypse.
I was sitting in the hallway outside our apartment, with a young girl (maybe 10 years old) sitting next to me. Our neighbors, a young Spanish-speaking couple (and possibly a child), walked by us in the hallway on their way out somewhere.
The wife chatted a little with us in pseudo-Spanish about the zombie; I was mentioning how the zombie had been bitten in the arm but I couldn't quite work out the phrasing. She said something like "ha estado [verb]ado en el armada". The world "voller" was in there somewhere too.
The girl next to me was looking up words on a handheld digital dictionary device, but wasn't sure if she was spelling them right. I was a little suspicious of "armada" meaning "arm". We couldn't work out what "voller" was.
At some point, the girl changed (imperceptibly) into Joan D (adult), and we were eating oreos. She was mentioning how it was interesting that the words "dedo" in Spanish and "doigt" in French (both meaning "finger") looked so similar. So I said, oh, yeah, well, "digitus" -- pointing out that another word for "finger" in English was "digit", and all three words came from Latin.
Joan looked astonished, and told me what a rush she felt when she figured out stuff like that. :D And then we ate more oreos.
(But I wanted to save a few oreos for Ray, who apparently had furnished them for us.)
(Our rides were little battery-powered boxes on wheels, perhaps two feet cubed, barely big enough for our butts to rest on. He unlatched the top of his, and was folding the edge of a multi-dollar bill and slipping it in and over the battery to demonstrate what he meant.)
We then did some mental exercise, imagining what to do in case of a zombie attack. In our imagination, a woman was walking down a sidewalk while fending off a not-so-clever male zombie who had been bitten in the arm.
Our apartment building was surprisingly well-maintained, and well lit by daylight, though completely empty of furniture. It looked like a building that had just barely finished being constructed before the apocalypse.
I was sitting in the hallway outside our apartment, with a young girl (maybe 10 years old) sitting next to me. Our neighbors, a young Spanish-speaking couple (and possibly a child), walked by us in the hallway on their way out somewhere.
The wife chatted a little with us in pseudo-Spanish about the zombie; I was mentioning how the zombie had been bitten in the arm but I couldn't quite work out the phrasing. She said something like "ha estado [verb]ado en el armada". The world "voller" was in there somewhere too.
The girl next to me was looking up words on a handheld digital dictionary device, but wasn't sure if she was spelling them right. I was a little suspicious of "armada" meaning "arm". We couldn't work out what "voller" was.
At some point, the girl changed (imperceptibly) into Joan D (adult), and we were eating oreos. She was mentioning how it was interesting that the words "dedo" in Spanish and "doigt" in French (both meaning "finger") looked so similar. So I said, oh, yeah, well, "digitus" -- pointing out that another word for "finger" in English was "digit", and all three words came from Latin.
Joan looked astonished, and told me what a rush she felt when she figured out stuff like that. :D And then we ate more oreos.
(But I wanted to save a few oreos for Ray, who apparently had furnished them for us.)
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Crater village, Utica, and lucid superhopping
I can't remember how it started, but I had an explanatory monologue going about legal distinctions in the word "island", showing a bunch of places on the globe that were called "island", but were actually craters or other land depressions.
The view soared over a vast semi-wilderness in a dry western area (brush and scrub, not many trees, lots of open sandy dirt). The land was pock-marked with depressions with sandstone walls, apparently formed by ancient water erosion; each was big enough for maybe 3-6 houses, and each little pocket was vaguely connected to the rest to form a network/town.
I went down into one of these depressions, where there were three or four houses. The rightmost house had a fancy exterior, so I decided to take some pictures. With my camera, I took three or four pictures starting from the left house and panning over to the right one, to make a panoramic picture out of later.
I then walked over to the pretty house, around to its right side, and found a staircase leading up along the side of the house. I walked up and ended up in a covered balcony/veranda area. From there I walked inside the house, noticing that there weren't any particular doors or locks preventing me from doing so.
I wondered if maybe a police officer lived here, reasoning that his very presence would justify an unsecured house. I cautiously continued through the house, going downstairs, but never did run into anyone.
Around now, the house had transformed into the first floor of Aunt Mildred's house in Utica. I wandered back towards the kitchen. Around this point I started to feel an anomalous sensation, and had an inkling that I was more in control of the dream than usual.
This influenced my behavior now; I was wondering whether to go upstairs or downstairs. I glanced up the stairs from the kitchen on the right, and noticed Greg's cat Jori walking down; but despite this distraction, I made up my mind to go down the stairs on the left, because I wanted to test walking into a space I couldn't remember well (i.e. the basement).
Almost immediately after getting down the stairs and turning left, what would have been the basement became the empty lobby of a city building; I was facing the exit, located on the outer corner, all glass doors and windows.
I walked out onto the sidewalk, then straight toward a grassy area with a tallish deciduous tree in the corner near the street. When I had approached the tree, I decided to try seeing how high I could hop (to test whether I was able to control the dream). First hop, I didn't quite reach the lowest branches. Next hop I did, and then I hopped a few more times, at least once hopping higher than the whole tree. Strangely, even on the high hops, I seemed to fall quite a bit faster than gravity should allow (maybe close to landing on the same time scale as a normal human hop), and when I landed on the ground, I felt no impact.
(I started to have the repeating phrase "Ich kann huggenen buschen [something something]" running through my head.)
As I walked to the right, toward a large bush, I started to pay attention to my breathing (which presumably was my actual, non-dream breathing). I started to think I don't really need to be breathing hard, or at all, if this is a dream (and other elements of reality, such as impact force, were missing anyhow).
I also tried to quiet my inner monologue, which was, as usual, quite saturated. But as soon as I did, I started to wake up.
So, this was the longest I've ever dreamed lucidly, and the most stable I've felt in light of realizing I was dreaming. However, it was interesting that there were things missing relative to reality: no people, no tactile sensations, not much going on auditorily, except my inner monologue. Upon successfully warping reality (by jumping really high), gravity did not act normally; not sure what the basis was for that -- lack of experience? video games? Drawing attention to, or altering, my breathing and inner monologue seemed to have triggered the exit. Will have to be more careful next time.
The view soared over a vast semi-wilderness in a dry western area (brush and scrub, not many trees, lots of open sandy dirt). The land was pock-marked with depressions with sandstone walls, apparently formed by ancient water erosion; each was big enough for maybe 3-6 houses, and each little pocket was vaguely connected to the rest to form a network/town.
I went down into one of these depressions, where there were three or four houses. The rightmost house had a fancy exterior, so I decided to take some pictures. With my camera, I took three or four pictures starting from the left house and panning over to the right one, to make a panoramic picture out of later.
I then walked over to the pretty house, around to its right side, and found a staircase leading up along the side of the house. I walked up and ended up in a covered balcony/veranda area. From there I walked inside the house, noticing that there weren't any particular doors or locks preventing me from doing so.
I wondered if maybe a police officer lived here, reasoning that his very presence would justify an unsecured house. I cautiously continued through the house, going downstairs, but never did run into anyone.
Around now, the house had transformed into the first floor of Aunt Mildred's house in Utica. I wandered back towards the kitchen. Around this point I started to feel an anomalous sensation, and had an inkling that I was more in control of the dream than usual.
This influenced my behavior now; I was wondering whether to go upstairs or downstairs. I glanced up the stairs from the kitchen on the right, and noticed Greg's cat Jori walking down; but despite this distraction, I made up my mind to go down the stairs on the left, because I wanted to test walking into a space I couldn't remember well (i.e. the basement).
Almost immediately after getting down the stairs and turning left, what would have been the basement became the empty lobby of a city building; I was facing the exit, located on the outer corner, all glass doors and windows.
I walked out onto the sidewalk, then straight toward a grassy area with a tallish deciduous tree in the corner near the street. When I had approached the tree, I decided to try seeing how high I could hop (to test whether I was able to control the dream). First hop, I didn't quite reach the lowest branches. Next hop I did, and then I hopped a few more times, at least once hopping higher than the whole tree. Strangely, even on the high hops, I seemed to fall quite a bit faster than gravity should allow (maybe close to landing on the same time scale as a normal human hop), and when I landed on the ground, I felt no impact.
(I started to have the repeating phrase "Ich kann huggenen buschen [something something]" running through my head.)
As I walked to the right, toward a large bush, I started to pay attention to my breathing (which presumably was my actual, non-dream breathing). I started to think I don't really need to be breathing hard, or at all, if this is a dream (and other elements of reality, such as impact force, were missing anyhow).
I also tried to quiet my inner monologue, which was, as usual, quite saturated. But as soon as I did, I started to wake up.
So, this was the longest I've ever dreamed lucidly, and the most stable I've felt in light of realizing I was dreaming. However, it was interesting that there were things missing relative to reality: no people, no tactile sensations, not much going on auditorily, except my inner monologue. Upon successfully warping reality (by jumping really high), gravity did not act normally; not sure what the basis was for that -- lack of experience? video games? Drawing attention to, or altering, my breathing and inner monologue seemed to have triggered the exit. Will have to be more careful next time.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Paramilitary abduction and stuff
In a suburban area, on the grass near a sidewalk, I had been tied up and left by a group of two or three women (don't remember why). A small band of paramilitary-looking folks walked up and escorted me to a house across the street.
The house was laid out so that the first floor foyer stepped out to an atrium of sorts, where the first floor had balconies that walked around and overlooked a room on the floor below. In the lower room, a group of six or seven women and men were sitting on couches, being interrogated by a few more military folks.
It looked like they had brought me there to help put the people being interrogated at ease. I'm not sure what about me, in particular, would do that. I was a black man, so that was apparently enough to make the one black woman down on the right relax and smile when our gaze met.
And then there was the blonde white woman, directly below me. She was lying on her back with her feet up, somehow reaching the edge of the balcony in front of me. We started playing footsie. Or toesie, really.
I then turned my attention to an inspector who was standing to my left (and noticed, at this point, that while my right hand was tied to my right side, my left arm was completely free). The inspector was reading his notes on a pad of paper. I glanced over his notes and saw that they were in Quikscript. When I asked him about it, though, he pointed out that it was all Chinese characters. But then he turned the page and everything on that page was in Quikscript.
He wrote a few things for my benefit to demonstrate how to write. One of the words he wrote was "stairway" or something like that, which somehow ended up being written almost in a circular fashion (I don't know if he was being fancy or if his version of Quikscript required it). At some point, the inspector was actually Brian C from high school.
Andrew K came by pushing a cart of books (apparently this first floor was sort of a library). He looked very cheerful and said hi, and we talked a little. All I can remember from our group conversation is something about how the incoming generation (of students?) was really gung-ho about the crazy stuff that we did (as a club, I guess), which we would have expected to be offputting to the uninitiated. In reference to this, the flat screen TV on the wall behind us was playing a South Park clip that had people talking about.. showers. ?
The house was laid out so that the first floor foyer stepped out to an atrium of sorts, where the first floor had balconies that walked around and overlooked a room on the floor below. In the lower room, a group of six or seven women and men were sitting on couches, being interrogated by a few more military folks.
It looked like they had brought me there to help put the people being interrogated at ease. I'm not sure what about me, in particular, would do that. I was a black man, so that was apparently enough to make the one black woman down on the right relax and smile when our gaze met.
And then there was the blonde white woman, directly below me. She was lying on her back with her feet up, somehow reaching the edge of the balcony in front of me. We started playing footsie. Or toesie, really.
I then turned my attention to an inspector who was standing to my left (and noticed, at this point, that while my right hand was tied to my right side, my left arm was completely free). The inspector was reading his notes on a pad of paper. I glanced over his notes and saw that they were in Quikscript. When I asked him about it, though, he pointed out that it was all Chinese characters. But then he turned the page and everything on that page was in Quikscript.
He wrote a few things for my benefit to demonstrate how to write. One of the words he wrote was "stairway" or something like that, which somehow ended up being written almost in a circular fashion (I don't know if he was being fancy or if his version of Quikscript required it). At some point, the inspector was actually Brian C from high school.
Andrew K came by pushing a cart of books (apparently this first floor was sort of a library). He looked very cheerful and said hi, and we talked a little. All I can remember from our group conversation is something about how the incoming generation (of students?) was really gung-ho about the crazy stuff that we did (as a club, I guess), which we would have expected to be offputting to the uninitiated. In reference to this, the flat screen TV on the wall behind us was playing a South Park clip that had people talking about.. showers. ?
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Useless meta-dreamspiration
I was talking to Greg (in the dream) about the crazy random creative turns of phrase I can come up with when I'm half asleep. But really, I was reading off random text from a dense document in Microsoft Word. It was as though I, and the document, were in a dream-like state, and I was reading it out to Greg, who I assumed to be normally conscious. Unfortunately, of the several random phrases I read off, I don't remember any of them. Just that they seemed clever.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Spinning chamber, and "Freedom From Glory"
I (female) was lying on the ground, face up, in the central part of a weird dark spinning chamber, maybe 20-30 feet in diameter. I could vaguely make out a few reflections of myself on the outer edge of the room, as well as a few reflections coming off triangular mirrored columns closer to me. Due to the movement, the reflections were mostly indistinct.
Although I was lying down, I was moving my feet as though walking (or skipping/running). As I spun around, I kept catching sight of one clear reflection of me. This reflection was walking / skipping / running the perimeter of the room at the same rate I was spinning, and she was always facing to my right, so I saw the right side profile and never much of the face. She duplicated the motion of my legs, even though I was lying down and not really walking. When I moved my arms, she did the same.
For some reason it bothered me each time I saw my reflection looking away from me. (That might bother me a little in reality too. I'll leave it up to you to imagine a situation where that happens.)
I noticed this song going on just as I was about to wake up:
"Till you earn your freedom from glory, glory...."
And the "glory, glory" line repeated for a while before I realized there was even a song going on. My brain pieced together the beginning of the line (or made it up (which might be the same thing)) as I was waking up. I recorded this demo of it later in the day, because I'm tired of writing down dream music in text notation that people are unlikely to really appreciate :)
Although I was lying down, I was moving my feet as though walking (or skipping/running). As I spun around, I kept catching sight of one clear reflection of me. This reflection was walking / skipping / running the perimeter of the room at the same rate I was spinning, and she was always facing to my right, so I saw the right side profile and never much of the face. She duplicated the motion of my legs, even though I was lying down and not really walking. When I moved my arms, she did the same.
For some reason it bothered me each time I saw my reflection looking away from me. (That might bother me a little in reality too. I'll leave it up to you to imagine a situation where that happens.)
I noticed this song going on just as I was about to wake up:
"Till you earn your freedom from glory, glory...."
And the "glory, glory" line repeated for a while before I realized there was even a song going on. My brain pieced together the beginning of the line (or made it up (which might be the same thing)) as I was waking up. I recorded this demo of it later in the day, because I'm tired of writing down dream music in text notation that people are unlikely to really appreciate :)
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Tiny homeroom, assembly smokers, and first class
I was at a high school on the first day of classes. I had spent a little time in my homeroom, which looked like a bite-sized science classroom. There was just room for the teacher's desk and two large, black-painted tables around which maybe 10-12 total kids could sit. The classroom was a step up from the hallway, and there wasn't really a front door, or, for that matter, a fourth wall.
From homeroom, I went to an assembly, which for some reason I showed up pretty late to. The auditorium was all white. It was as wide as a movie theater, but from where I stepped in (on the left side of the middle level), the stadium-style seating stretched very far up and down. At the very bottom was a stage. I started making my way up a stairway towards the top/back row.
As I walked up the stairs, I passed two or three people who were standing on the steps. The girl in front was, just then, telling some anecdote or testimonial to the entire crowd, as part of the assembly. Her Biff-style boyfriend standing behind her was trying to light a cigarette, so I kind of pointed at him and went "Ah-ah..!" as I walked past. Other people nearby noticed too and told him to stop.
As I reached the top tier of seats, I noticed Caitie R sitting in an aisle seat to my right, smoking a cigarette. I lifted my hand up (turns out I'm wearing white velvet gloves) and tried to put it out with my knuckle. But I guess it didn't work (and Caitie didn't seem all that bothered).
I reached the very back row, which was practically empty, and sat next to Jeremy C. The assembly was just wrapping up, and he asked me if I was interested in getting a bite to eat. I said yes, but then I realized I had classes to get to during all four schedule slots that day.
THEN I realized that I didn't know what any of my classes were, or what rooms to go to. Plus I had already forgotten where my homeroom was. Jeremy walked with me as I went looking for my homeroom. Luckily, it was the second room I passed in the first hallway I checked.
My homeroom teacher was there. She looked like my algebra teacher, Mrs. Williams, but was a lot less sardonic. It turned out that she could bring up my entire schedule on her computer and print out a neatly formatted card on a blue sheet of paper. She handed it to me, and then we got into some conversation (I remember her saying something about "when she decided to get married"...), but as much as I wanted to hear what she had to say, I was trying to politely get moving so I wouldn't be late for my first class.
I looked on my schedule card and saw how the classrooms were listed. They had a classroom name, and then the "cross street" they were on (really, they weren't streets, they were hallways). My first class was called something along the lines of "EMOND" and the cross street was something like "Georgia Avenue". It was only a couple hallways up from my homeroom.
EMOND ended up being another hallway behind a doorway, perpendicular to the cross street. It was a tall, wide, L-shaped hallway, sort of an internal entranceway to the classroom itself, which was kind of a band/orchestra room. As I approached the bend of the L, Vanessa came walking the other way, wearing an outfit featuring a knee-length skirt and tights (not unusual), all a faded navy blue color. I was surprised to see her there (and uncertain why she was walking out), and I kind of pointed at her and went, "You!" But she seemed not to notice I was there; she was looking spacey and a little melancholy, and continued walking past me.
I rounded the corner, and without so much of a transition, I was at the orchestra room. A crowd of maybe 12 or 15 people, mostly girls, were standing, facing away from me, singing something informally as a chorus, but I don't recall what it was. I walked up to join in, then I woke up.
From homeroom, I went to an assembly, which for some reason I showed up pretty late to. The auditorium was all white. It was as wide as a movie theater, but from where I stepped in (on the left side of the middle level), the stadium-style seating stretched very far up and down. At the very bottom was a stage. I started making my way up a stairway towards the top/back row.
As I walked up the stairs, I passed two or three people who were standing on the steps. The girl in front was, just then, telling some anecdote or testimonial to the entire crowd, as part of the assembly. Her Biff-style boyfriend standing behind her was trying to light a cigarette, so I kind of pointed at him and went "Ah-ah..!" as I walked past. Other people nearby noticed too and told him to stop.
As I reached the top tier of seats, I noticed Caitie R sitting in an aisle seat to my right, smoking a cigarette. I lifted my hand up (turns out I'm wearing white velvet gloves) and tried to put it out with my knuckle. But I guess it didn't work (and Caitie didn't seem all that bothered).
I reached the very back row, which was practically empty, and sat next to Jeremy C. The assembly was just wrapping up, and he asked me if I was interested in getting a bite to eat. I said yes, but then I realized I had classes to get to during all four schedule slots that day.
THEN I realized that I didn't know what any of my classes were, or what rooms to go to. Plus I had already forgotten where my homeroom was. Jeremy walked with me as I went looking for my homeroom. Luckily, it was the second room I passed in the first hallway I checked.
My homeroom teacher was there. She looked like my algebra teacher, Mrs. Williams, but was a lot less sardonic. It turned out that she could bring up my entire schedule on her computer and print out a neatly formatted card on a blue sheet of paper. She handed it to me, and then we got into some conversation (I remember her saying something about "when she decided to get married"...), but as much as I wanted to hear what she had to say, I was trying to politely get moving so I wouldn't be late for my first class.
I looked on my schedule card and saw how the classrooms were listed. They had a classroom name, and then the "cross street" they were on (really, they weren't streets, they were hallways). My first class was called something along the lines of "EMOND" and the cross street was something like "Georgia Avenue". It was only a couple hallways up from my homeroom.
EMOND ended up being another hallway behind a doorway, perpendicular to the cross street. It was a tall, wide, L-shaped hallway, sort of an internal entranceway to the classroom itself, which was kind of a band/orchestra room. As I approached the bend of the L, Vanessa came walking the other way, wearing an outfit featuring a knee-length skirt and tights (not unusual), all a faded navy blue color. I was surprised to see her there (and uncertain why she was walking out), and I kind of pointed at her and went, "You!" But she seemed not to notice I was there; she was looking spacey and a little melancholy, and continued walking past me.
I rounded the corner, and without so much of a transition, I was at the orchestra room. A crowd of maybe 12 or 15 people, mostly girls, were standing, facing away from me, singing something informally as a chorus, but I don't recall what it was. I walked up to join in, then I woke up.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Smanblue. Another (almost) lucid dream.
I was walking around some kind of a huge, open convention center/department store with Calbert and Jared G. As we walked through an open lane, I was mentioning something to Calbert about what I was dreaming about earlier, and even mentioned something about "this dream".
Of course, at this point, I went, "duh", and started paying very close attention to what was going on around me. I knew that previously when I had realized I was dreaming, my pulse would start racing and I would have a very hard time staying asleep. This time, however, I felt somewhat calmer.
Still, I was trying to come to terms with my surroundings, so that I would have a basis for what was in the dream before trying to consciously mess with it. I glanced all around... I remember seeing extremely tall shelves, like you would see in a BJ's or Sam's Club, but even taller; but the walls and ceiling were white, like a department store.
I caught sight of a box that Calbert was holding, and written on it was the word "smanblue". I repeated it to myself, loudly, a few times, desperately trying to stay attached to my surroundings. "Smanblue. Smaaan...bluue... SMANBLUE!!"
Then I woke up. I think. No sleep paralysis this time.
Of course, at this point, I went, "duh", and started paying very close attention to what was going on around me. I knew that previously when I had realized I was dreaming, my pulse would start racing and I would have a very hard time staying asleep. This time, however, I felt somewhat calmer.
Still, I was trying to come to terms with my surroundings, so that I would have a basis for what was in the dream before trying to consciously mess with it. I glanced all around... I remember seeing extremely tall shelves, like you would see in a BJ's or Sam's Club, but even taller; but the walls and ceiling were white, like a department store.
I caught sight of a box that Calbert was holding, and written on it was the word "smanblue". I repeated it to myself, loudly, a few times, desperately trying to stay attached to my surroundings. "Smanblue. Smaaan...bluue... SMANBLUE!!"
Then I woke up. I think. No sleep paralysis this time.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Loss of a ghost
I and a girl friend of mine had just walked into a small, messy library that was part of a larger building — a mansion, I think. From the door in front of us, opposite the way we had come in, the ghost of a girl in her twenties walked in and greeted us cheerfully. We'd met her before on several occasions and were friends with her. She came over and talked to us, catching up, and started reading a few magazines with us on the floor.
For some reason, though, my thought process had changed recently and I had reached an unsavory conclusion about the nature of ghosts. I wanted to, yet felt pretty scared to, test my conclusion. But I ended up going through with it...
I asked her to read some of the magazine's text aloud while I was looking away. It came out as gibberish. I asked her to recount a conversation we'd had a few minutes ago, or something we had talked about when we had met previously, but she couldn't think of anything.
I had realized that ghosts didn't have the full human version of sentience/consciousness, but rather they depended heavily on the input of the people they interacted with, and my tests seemed to confirm it.
I became very emotional. I lay down on the floor beside her and put my left arm around her and hugged her as tight as I could. I loved her for all our past interactions, knew that she had been a pleasant influence in my life, and yet I had to cope now with the realization that she wasn't exactly a real person. I had to accept that, whoever I thought she was in real life, there was little to be shown for it in her current form. I didn't want to let go of the lie.
But someone decided to destroy her anyway. She suddenly had a chain attached to her and was being pulled past me and off to the right. I looked and saw a villainous woman there among the bookshelves who seized the ghost and took her out another doorway and around a corner. She stabbed the ghost with some kind of implement, and bright light leaked out from the stab wound until... you know, like, the ethereal plane burst out in a supernatural explosion, and the ghost was gone. As the breeze from the explosion blew past me, I screamed in despair.
For some reason, though, my thought process had changed recently and I had reached an unsavory conclusion about the nature of ghosts. I wanted to, yet felt pretty scared to, test my conclusion. But I ended up going through with it...
I asked her to read some of the magazine's text aloud while I was looking away. It came out as gibberish. I asked her to recount a conversation we'd had a few minutes ago, or something we had talked about when we had met previously, but she couldn't think of anything.
I had realized that ghosts didn't have the full human version of sentience/consciousness, but rather they depended heavily on the input of the people they interacted with, and my tests seemed to confirm it.
I became very emotional. I lay down on the floor beside her and put my left arm around her and hugged her as tight as I could. I loved her for all our past interactions, knew that she had been a pleasant influence in my life, and yet I had to cope now with the realization that she wasn't exactly a real person. I had to accept that, whoever I thought she was in real life, there was little to be shown for it in her current form. I didn't want to let go of the lie.
But someone decided to destroy her anyway. She suddenly had a chain attached to her and was being pulled past me and off to the right. I looked and saw a villainous woman there among the bookshelves who seized the ghost and took her out another doorway and around a corner. She stabbed the ghost with some kind of implement, and bright light leaked out from the stab wound until... you know, like, the ethereal plane burst out in a supernatural explosion, and the ghost was gone. As the breeze from the explosion blew past me, I screamed in despair.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Please, no "sloppy disks"
I made my way to a university in Labor, Delaware (not a real place), which, on the map, was in the southwest corner of Delaware. I was going to be taking summer courses there — looked like it was going to be computer science. I had brought an old laptop of mine (ASUS brand).
I got into a classroom where maybe 30 students had gathered for orientation, with everyone sitting around on the floor with their backpacks and laptops. I realized my laptop had gone missing. Not only that, but everyone else had laptops lying around, all identical ASUS laptops, but much newer than mine. I asked around a little, but nobody had seen my laptop.
The teacher, a wiry middle-aged man with slightly graying hair, was giving some basic guidelines about the program. One thing I heard him talking about — while I was searching for my laptop — was that nobody should use, and I quote, "sloppy disks" in this program. He explained that he called them "sloppy disks" because, first of all, it wasn't just floppy disks, but things like SD cards, jump drives, etc.; and because he thought it would overcomplicate our computer programming if we had to deal with storage media that could change drive letters. (It seemed unrealistic to me that you would willfully avoid such a commonplace issue.)
I got into a classroom where maybe 30 students had gathered for orientation, with everyone sitting around on the floor with their backpacks and laptops. I realized my laptop had gone missing. Not only that, but everyone else had laptops lying around, all identical ASUS laptops, but much newer than mine. I asked around a little, but nobody had seen my laptop.
The teacher, a wiry middle-aged man with slightly graying hair, was giving some basic guidelines about the program. One thing I heard him talking about — while I was searching for my laptop — was that nobody should use, and I quote, "sloppy disks" in this program. He explained that he called them "sloppy disks" because, first of all, it wasn't just floppy disks, but things like SD cards, jump drives, etc.; and because he thought it would overcomplicate our computer programming if we had to deal with storage media that could change drive letters. (It seemed unrealistic to me that you would willfully avoid such a commonplace issue.)
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Café Tacvba's highway gas stop
I was driving back from somewhere in southern Virginia on the highway, and I needed to stop for gas. The rest stop that I pulled off at was rather strange. On one edge of the parking lot was a small curbed-off field where several people were lounging and relaxing. There were a few signs there, facing towards the parking lot...
Well, first off, I somehow knew that this facility belonged to the band Café Tacvba, and throughout the dream I had a couple songs by them playing in the background. So something inside me expected to see Spanish writing on all the signs. But as I stared at the signs, I realized they were actually written in some kind of informal Esperanto. Many words that I would have expected to end in -o (i.e. nouns) ended instead with an accented syllable ending in a consonant. But the clincher was that one sign on the right end of the field actually simply had the word "Esperanto" on it. (This sign was in the middle of a few vertically stacked signs — the others may have been gasoline prices.) I think there must have been at least one sign asking for donations to whatever cause Café Tacvba was sponsoring here.
I went inside a restroom. I noticed that inside the restroom there were a couple small gas pumps, but I couldn't imagine how someone would fit a car in here. A sign near the pumps mentioned that you could only buy up to 2 gallons of gas there. I guessed that maybe people could drag their motorbikes in here...
Anyway, I found the normal gas pumps outside and across the parking lot to the right.
Well, first off, I somehow knew that this facility belonged to the band Café Tacvba, and throughout the dream I had a couple songs by them playing in the background. So something inside me expected to see Spanish writing on all the signs. But as I stared at the signs, I realized they were actually written in some kind of informal Esperanto. Many words that I would have expected to end in -o (i.e. nouns) ended instead with an accented syllable ending in a consonant. But the clincher was that one sign on the right end of the field actually simply had the word "Esperanto" on it. (This sign was in the middle of a few vertically stacked signs — the others may have been gasoline prices.) I think there must have been at least one sign asking for donations to whatever cause Café Tacvba was sponsoring here.
I went inside a restroom. I noticed that inside the restroom there were a couple small gas pumps, but I couldn't imagine how someone would fit a car in here. A sign near the pumps mentioned that you could only buy up to 2 gallons of gas there. I guessed that maybe people could drag their motorbikes in here...
Anyway, I found the normal gas pumps outside and across the parking lot to the right.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Dude! Jet trails!
In a restaurant with a group of friends (guys and girls). One friend comes in from outside the restaurant, saying "Dude! Jet trails!" It seemed like he really wanted someone to take pictures. A couple of us (including Greg) come out to see what is going on. Outside the restaurant was an interesting little area. Despite being outdoors it was almost completely surrounded by urban-relic type walls and most of a ceiling, so that there wasn't much way to see beyond the enclosed area. But in front of us, where most of the people crowded around were staring, was a long opening revealing something of an alley or passageway with another wall behind it.
I heard a droning noise, figuring it must be the plane my friend was talking about. I trained my camera on the only possible place we would see anything (the passageway), and a few seconds later, it looked like two planes, one chasing the other, passed through from right to left. I was taking as many pictures as I could (multiple exposure setting) but I only caught a glimpse of part of the pursuing plane. It was a lustrous muddy greenish brown color. Someone mentioned that it must be a "commando unit", which got them pretty excited.
We waited, and a little while later the droning came back and so did that second plane, passing through the passageway again. I didn't catch much more on the camera the second time — I was having a hard time positioning the shot through the viewscreen. But very soon after, a motorcycle came through the alley and stopped right in front of us. A military guy jumped off the bike, threw (or launched) something that looked like a grenade towards the crowd, said something cryptic, and said we had "two minutes".
My group ran back into the restaurant to say what had happened. I was going to show my pictures, when I noticed that: a) the latest batch of pictures came out in sepia for some reason, and b) even though Greg and I agreed that the military guy had come in on a motorcycle, the pictures on the camera showed him getting out of his airplane (which was smallish, and had propellers in interesting places).
We got ready to evacuate down to the basement of the restaurant where hopefully the explosion wouldn't hurt us. But we had some leftover pizza in boxes on the table from some other occasion, which we had been dragging around with us (it was mixed slices of pizza from two or three different places). I grabbed a slice of onion-studded pizza and we went off toward the basement. Unfortunately there was a bit of a line. Before we even got to the basement door, we heard voices from various places around (even some still outside) counting down... 3... 2... 1... But there was no explosion.
After giving a few more seconds for good measure, the crowd started coming back outside again. Now the military guy was standing by a bus, telling everyone to board. Two guys (the equivalent of Fred and George Weasley) were tossing rocks at the explosive, and it did actually ... barely.. explode. It went off with a low thud. I thought I saw the military guy chuckle a little.
On top of the bus, surrounded by low guard rails, were a bunch of horses (actually, I think they were Przewalski's Horses). I had a feeling we would be needing those horses wherever we were being taken. I also still felt suspicious of the military guy, and wanted to make sure he wasn't trying to get us all killed (again). So as I passed by the right side of the bus, I quickly peeked underneath and check for bombs attached the bottom of the bus. Instead, I saw a family of very vicious looking dogs. They didn't attack me, thankfully. I thought to myself something like, "Note to self: Circumprescription counterproductive. Stick to the club house."
As we were about to get on the bus, a friend of mine noted that the crowd was being organized into groups and people needed to take positions. He thought I should consider "first bass" or "second bass". I was pretty sure we already had a first bass guy, and I didn't think I was yet talented enough with bass to take that position.
I heard a droning noise, figuring it must be the plane my friend was talking about. I trained my camera on the only possible place we would see anything (the passageway), and a few seconds later, it looked like two planes, one chasing the other, passed through from right to left. I was taking as many pictures as I could (multiple exposure setting) but I only caught a glimpse of part of the pursuing plane. It was a lustrous muddy greenish brown color. Someone mentioned that it must be a "commando unit", which got them pretty excited.
We waited, and a little while later the droning came back and so did that second plane, passing through the passageway again. I didn't catch much more on the camera the second time — I was having a hard time positioning the shot through the viewscreen. But very soon after, a motorcycle came through the alley and stopped right in front of us. A military guy jumped off the bike, threw (or launched) something that looked like a grenade towards the crowd, said something cryptic, and said we had "two minutes".
My group ran back into the restaurant to say what had happened. I was going to show my pictures, when I noticed that: a) the latest batch of pictures came out in sepia for some reason, and b) even though Greg and I agreed that the military guy had come in on a motorcycle, the pictures on the camera showed him getting out of his airplane (which was smallish, and had propellers in interesting places).
We got ready to evacuate down to the basement of the restaurant where hopefully the explosion wouldn't hurt us. But we had some leftover pizza in boxes on the table from some other occasion, which we had been dragging around with us (it was mixed slices of pizza from two or three different places). I grabbed a slice of onion-studded pizza and we went off toward the basement. Unfortunately there was a bit of a line. Before we even got to the basement door, we heard voices from various places around (even some still outside) counting down... 3... 2... 1... But there was no explosion.
After giving a few more seconds for good measure, the crowd started coming back outside again. Now the military guy was standing by a bus, telling everyone to board. Two guys (the equivalent of Fred and George Weasley) were tossing rocks at the explosive, and it did actually ... barely.. explode. It went off with a low thud. I thought I saw the military guy chuckle a little.
On top of the bus, surrounded by low guard rails, were a bunch of horses (actually, I think they were Przewalski's Horses). I had a feeling we would be needing those horses wherever we were being taken. I also still felt suspicious of the military guy, and wanted to make sure he wasn't trying to get us all killed (again). So as I passed by the right side of the bus, I quickly peeked underneath and check for bombs attached the bottom of the bus. Instead, I saw a family of very vicious looking dogs. They didn't attack me, thankfully. I thought to myself something like, "Note to self: Circumprescription counterproductive. Stick to the club house."
As we were about to get on the bus, a friend of mine noted that the crowd was being organized into groups and people needed to take positions. He thought I should consider "first bass" or "second bass". I was pretty sure we already had a first bass guy, and I didn't think I was yet talented enough with bass to take that position.
Monday, November 7, 2011
The science of wordless spellcasting
I'm Harry Potter. I wake up in my bed, in the bedroom of a pretty normal looking modern Muggle-style house. The opposite wall, across the room and parallel to my bed, had built-in bookshelves from the ceiling down to about 3 feet off the floor. Below each column of bookshelves were three drawers.
In the previous dream, just before I woke up, a friend of mine had used the spell "fermata" to close the front door of a house we were getting ready to go into. I decided to test the opposite spell, the spell for opening things, "abierto" (I have no idea if either of these are real spells in the Harry Potter universe). I point my wand at a drawer and speak, "abierto". I mess around with my pronunciation, at first rolling my "r", then switching to a British (RP) "r". Then I start stretching out the pronunciation slowly. That's when I notice something weird.
I decide to experiment. I point my wand at the drawer, thinking the word "abierto" in my head, while starting to say "aaaah" out loud. In anticipation, the drawer begins to open. I push it shut. Interesting. Now I point my wand, think the word "automatic", and start to say "aaaah" again. This time nothing happens. Iiiiinteresting. I test it a few more times, then rush downstairs to tell Hermione.
Downstairs in the house, there are a lot of other kids (presumably other students) milling around. I walk into the small kitchen, where Hermione is making herself breakfast alone. I excitedly tell her to guess what I found out. She says "Hmmm... could it have something to do with..." (I forget what she referred to, but it wasn't remotely related.) I shook my head, smiling. Then I explained to her what I had found out, with "aaah" and "abierto" versus "aaah" and "automatic". You didn't need to say the whole spell, you just had to be focused on the right spell and begin speaking the spell.
"Woww, cool!" said Hermione, meaning I had told her something she didn't already know. And I was happy that she was excited.
[Note: This has everything to do with me currently reading Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality.]
In the previous dream, just before I woke up, a friend of mine had used the spell "fermata" to close the front door of a house we were getting ready to go into. I decided to test the opposite spell, the spell for opening things, "abierto" (I have no idea if either of these are real spells in the Harry Potter universe). I point my wand at a drawer and speak, "abierto". I mess around with my pronunciation, at first rolling my "r", then switching to a British (RP) "r". Then I start stretching out the pronunciation slowly. That's when I notice something weird.
I decide to experiment. I point my wand at the drawer, thinking the word "abierto" in my head, while starting to say "aaaah" out loud. In anticipation, the drawer begins to open. I push it shut. Interesting. Now I point my wand, think the word "automatic", and start to say "aaaah" again. This time nothing happens. Iiiiinteresting. I test it a few more times, then rush downstairs to tell Hermione.
Downstairs in the house, there are a lot of other kids (presumably other students) milling around. I walk into the small kitchen, where Hermione is making herself breakfast alone. I excitedly tell her to guess what I found out. She says "Hmmm... could it have something to do with..." (I forget what she referred to, but it wasn't remotely related.) I shook my head, smiling. Then I explained to her what I had found out, with "aaah" and "abierto" versus "aaah" and "automatic". You didn't need to say the whole spell, you just had to be focused on the right spell and begin speaking the spell.
"Woww, cool!" said Hermione, meaning I had told her something she didn't already know. And I was happy that she was excited.
[Note: This has everything to do with me currently reading Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality.]
Eating "stears" in the Philippines
I went to the Philippines, by boat. (Several other people did too.) I was looking at a map, trying to figure out where I would actually make landfall. I picked the central west coast of an island (which was shaped kind of like a mirror image of Japan's Honshu island), after passing by the northwestern tip of the island where many of the other travelers were going. I arrived, swimming the last short leg of the journey to the dock. I was then in the house of a host family, sitting at their medium-sized round wooden kitchen table.
There were at least two people there. There was a "motherly" type, and a "brotherly" type. I was eating some food -- particularly, fruits that looked kind of like eggplants, or elongated mangoes without a pit. I used a large knife whose sharp edge curved towards the front end, and rather than ending in a point, the front end was broad, sharp, and slightly angled. To cut the fruit open, I stabbed the broad end of the knife straight into the middle of the fruit (lengthwise) and sliced it in half.
The brother asked me if I wanted any pizza, and I said "yes". I wasn't exactly sure when the pizza would be served (either in a few minutes, or tomorrow morning). In any case, another woman had appeared, and she was another traveler like me, possibly my leader/commander. She said I should really be eating the "stears" (pronounced "stares"/"stairs") for nutrition. The "stears" were like the other fruits, but bigger/longer with orange skin. Actually, the other fruits may have been another variety of "stears".
I think the reason I know how to spell "stears" is that I saw a flash of a news show on the small TV in the corner of the kitchen where they were talking about them, with a picture and caption.
There were at least two people there. There was a "motherly" type, and a "brotherly" type. I was eating some food -- particularly, fruits that looked kind of like eggplants, or elongated mangoes without a pit. I used a large knife whose sharp edge curved towards the front end, and rather than ending in a point, the front end was broad, sharp, and slightly angled. To cut the fruit open, I stabbed the broad end of the knife straight into the middle of the fruit (lengthwise) and sliced it in half.
The brother asked me if I wanted any pizza, and I said "yes". I wasn't exactly sure when the pizza would be served (either in a few minutes, or tomorrow morning). In any case, another woman had appeared, and she was another traveler like me, possibly my leader/commander. She said I should really be eating the "stears" (pronounced "stares"/"stairs") for nutrition. The "stears" were like the other fruits, but bigger/longer with orange skin. Actually, the other fruits may have been another variety of "stears".
I think the reason I know how to spell "stears" is that I saw a flash of a news show on the small TV in the corner of the kitchen where they were talking about them, with a picture and caption.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
"Mason mama"
I came to a facility in the wilderness where I was supposed to train in survival skills. I followed a course that had me sneaking quietly around, behind, and through small fir trees in this sparsely wooded property. Apparently a primary goal was to not alert wildlife to my presence.
I finished up and headed out. I saw a woman from another special agency just arriving to take the course as I left. My exit route took me to a long indoor bridge with glass sides for looking out. It dipped towards the middle like a rope bridge. Looking out, I saw only a vast body of water and I recalled that the facility had been on a small remote island.
At the same time, I started thinking of the song "Take Me Home, Country Roads", and thought of Jenny Lewis singing it. I started to sing it like her. It seemed that the song was being dedicated to my wife, who lived on another, more populated island, yet had never really gone to the sea or left the island (thus, "stranger to blue water"). The line "mountain mama" was changed to "Mason mama" (Mason being pronounced "mass-un"), Mason being the name of her hometown.
(In my mental map, the facility island was in the southwest corner, the island/group of islands with Mason was towards south-center, and halfway up the map to the north started a landmass that covered most of the north half of the map, and may have been "West Virginia".)
I finished up and headed out. I saw a woman from another special agency just arriving to take the course as I left. My exit route took me to a long indoor bridge with glass sides for looking out. It dipped towards the middle like a rope bridge. Looking out, I saw only a vast body of water and I recalled that the facility had been on a small remote island.
At the same time, I started thinking of the song "Take Me Home, Country Roads", and thought of Jenny Lewis singing it. I started to sing it like her. It seemed that the song was being dedicated to my wife, who lived on another, more populated island, yet had never really gone to the sea or left the island (thus, "stranger to blue water"). The line "mountain mama" was changed to "Mason mama" (Mason being pronounced "mass-un"), Mason being the name of her hometown.
(In my mental map, the facility island was in the southwest corner, the island/group of islands with Mason was towards south-center, and halfway up the map to the north started a landmass that covered most of the north half of the map, and may have been "West Virginia".)
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
MythBusters, rockets, and "urn-ale" climbing
Standing on a long dock/boardwalk over a small lake, watching Jamie and Adam from MythBusters shooting some sort of handheld rocket launchers (the rockets launched whereby being somewhat light and unthreatening). At first, it is more like a filmed scene -- indeed, I watch the two of them launch rockets in reverse -- the rockets find their way back to the launchers, and then the vertical smoke trail finds its way back to the rockets. Then I see them do it again. Adam's little rocket lands in the water behind him, just off the side of the dock. Jamie's lands very close to his own feet. Adam quips that this may be the first episode where they experiment on their own blood.
Seems filming has stopped now, we've walked off a little to the right, and Adam is talking to me and a friend about the background to that episode. Jamie had the idea of setting up a small monorail along the dock to which the rocket launchers would have been attached. One of Adam's assistants (not from the real show) mentioned how it would have been difficult to set up the monorail without buckling the dock because of the shape of the planks. Adam said they had actually worked out a solution to that, by fitting mounts below the railing that were the same size as the planks. In any case, the monorail idea had been scrapped. Adam also mentioned offhand that the show's photographers took way too many pictures, that there were so many photos from the show that would never see the light of day.
Then we headed off further down the dock towards land. Hopping. I hopped down the slope of the dock onto land, then started hopping towards our destination, over a pile of junk or two, and slowly uphill, with my friend (and possibly the MythBusters crew) following behind me. For some reason, the song "Civilization" by the Andrews Sisters and Danny Kaye (featured in Fallout 3) was running through my head. Possibly because of the line "They hurry like savages to get aboard an iron train" -- thinking of the monorail idea.
The ground was grassy and was pretty wet. As we got further up the hill, the wet ground changed to snowy ground. Then we reached a part of the slope that was too steep to hop (or walk) up. My friend (I think a girl, but not particularly feminine, just sort of a pal) and I started grabbing tufts of snow-covered grass with our bare hands and slowly lifting ourselves up the slope, bit by bit. We were laughing and having a grand time. I was surprised every time I grabbed the grass and it managed to support my weight and not break in my hand. My friend said this was great "urn-ale" climbing. I told her this was the first "urn-ale" mountain I'd ever climbed. We continued to climb and grin and laugh.
In the background now, the music had changed to something Celtic-sounding: It was fast-paced, 6/4 time. Every beat had a high-octave major chord on piano keeping time, and there was a pennywhistle which started on a major third, and every half measure it flourished to a different note.
Seems filming has stopped now, we've walked off a little to the right, and Adam is talking to me and a friend about the background to that episode. Jamie had the idea of setting up a small monorail along the dock to which the rocket launchers would have been attached. One of Adam's assistants (not from the real show) mentioned how it would have been difficult to set up the monorail without buckling the dock because of the shape of the planks. Adam said they had actually worked out a solution to that, by fitting mounts below the railing that were the same size as the planks. In any case, the monorail idea had been scrapped. Adam also mentioned offhand that the show's photographers took way too many pictures, that there were so many photos from the show that would never see the light of day.
Then we headed off further down the dock towards land. Hopping. I hopped down the slope of the dock onto land, then started hopping towards our destination, over a pile of junk or two, and slowly uphill, with my friend (and possibly the MythBusters crew) following behind me. For some reason, the song "Civilization" by the Andrews Sisters and Danny Kaye (featured in Fallout 3) was running through my head. Possibly because of the line "They hurry like savages to get aboard an iron train" -- thinking of the monorail idea.
The ground was grassy and was pretty wet. As we got further up the hill, the wet ground changed to snowy ground. Then we reached a part of the slope that was too steep to hop (or walk) up. My friend (I think a girl, but not particularly feminine, just sort of a pal) and I started grabbing tufts of snow-covered grass with our bare hands and slowly lifting ourselves up the slope, bit by bit. We were laughing and having a grand time. I was surprised every time I grabbed the grass and it managed to support my weight and not break in my hand. My friend said this was great "urn-ale" climbing. I told her this was the first "urn-ale" mountain I'd ever climbed. We continued to climb and grin and laugh.
In the background now, the music had changed to something Celtic-sounding: It was fast-paced, 6/4 time. Every beat had a high-octave major chord on piano keeping time, and there was a pennywhistle which started on a major third, and every half measure it flourished to a different note.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
All in the name of the Bone Dog's life
"Áll in the náme of the Bóne Dóg's lìfe."
(Accents intended to illustrate intonation.)
- Sparky (in a nasally gangsterish voice), jokingly, mid-conversation with Ray and Priss, who laugh a bit in response
(Accents intended to illustrate intonation.)
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