September 2003 Dreams

9-2-2003

Fragments: (1) riding an elevator up in a skyscraping luxury apartment building; (2) going downstairs in the same building, fleeing, trying to avoid detection; (3) climbing those same stairs up from the basement or lower floors. In this third part there were dead bodies suspended inn alcoves, nude bodies of murdered women. The stairs were concrete, and littered with concrete rubble. Death was a presence through many of last night's dreams: my own death, the deaths of people I loved. There was also a sense that there were things that were more important than death to worry about.

9-6-2003

I'm working in a laboratory, at a desk doing theoretical work. I become suddenly aware that the consequence of my calculations is that the particle accelerator being build in the lab can be used to create wormholes. This is Really Important, and it seems certain that I'll receive recognition for this – possibly even a Nobel.

I walk around the large, circular room, looking over the components of the cyclotron under construction. I can hardly wait for it to be finished for my prediction to be borne out.

9-8-2003

I'm wearing my reading glasses, trying to read. When I look up, my view of the room around me is distorted. I slide the glasses down my nose to peer over the top of the frames. The room is still distorted. It seems as if wearing the glasses has permanently altered my vision.

9-10-2003

(1) Cthulhu Doom: Playing a "live action" game of Doom, where the level is filled with monsters and dangers that need to be traversed in a particular order. Here are soldiers to be shot, there are tentacled cthulhoids that must be zapped with the plasma gun.

By mistake i enter a room that I should have waited, clearing other parts of the level, before entering. There are lots of cthulhoids here.

I pump many zaps of the BFG-9000 into the room, and hope to survive the counterattack.

(2) Walking on my knees on a circular or oval track, like that around a football field. I'm lagging behind the others, and they are gradually coming around the track and catching up with me again.

(3) Eldritch horror invoked by the seaside. Tentacles in the waves beneath the water.

9-15-2003

(1) We are driving in a car in Alaska. I am a passenger. We pass by housing developments. The road slopes upward, into the foothills. The car passes a crossroads and a sign says that we are entering a wilderness area. we keep going. The pavement ends, and the road gets much steeper. There is no room to turn around.

Our car is not made for this, but we can't turn back.

We come to the crest of the road, which widens a little. Can we turn around? Maybe. ... but if we go off the road we might fall off the cliff.

(Later) Driving past more housing developments.

(2) Some kind of confrontation in the swamps. I get the jump on my opponent, and get my hands on his throat, squeezing, strangling him. His face turns purple.

His thrashing subsides, and I still hold on, fearing a trick. Eventually his body goes limp. I release him, now sure that he is dead.

(3) I'm a passenger in a small commercial jet plane. A few seats behind me, a woman (with long, wavy brown hair) is dying.

Out the window to my left, the sun is setting into a cloudbank. The colors are vivid reds, purples, and oranges; it's beautiful. The sun disappears.

The woman has died. I anticipate a great deal of difficulty – bureaucratic officialdom – when the plane lands.

We arrive at the airport. I make my way forward to the cockpit and get out of the plane through a small hatch in the ceiling. Once outside in the open air, I start to cough.

9-22-2003

I'm taking a public transit train to get somewhere by some specific time. Where I'm going is at 14th Street. The train goes underground and pulls into the station. I stay on it. At the next station, 12th Street, I get out.

Wandering around the station I come across an underground river, teeming with trout. There's half an hour before I have to be at my appointment. I decide to take some time to go fishing. I take out a rod and reel, and cast into the river.

Immediately there's resistance on the line, and I start playing it, letting it out, reeling it in.

I observe that it isn't a fish at all that I've hooked, but instead my cat Rocky. Now I have a problem: How do I get the hook out of his mouth? It's barbed, and I don't want to hurt him any more than I already have.

9-24-2003

I sit at a bar and order an ice cream dish. I ask how much it costs. The bartender tells me "One dollar." "Really?" I ask. "No. I'm just kidding." The actual price is more plausible.

I pay, and put the change loose in my pocket. I worry to myself about walking around carrying so much cash.