(Sunday, February 10, 2013) I dream I am in the Home Depot parking lot. Hans Friedebach (a German immigrant engineer I work with at Ergotron) is there too. He has come to warn me. I face south to witness a nuclear explosion fill the sky.
Day notes:
There is speculation this morning that North Korea has tested a nuclear bomb.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Two fragments:
First: I’m in a large city, maybe London or New York. I look out the window, across the street at an old stone house that takes up a quarter of the block. It’s several stories tall. I notice my partner (maybe Chris) standing on the street corner, at the ornate front door of the house. I dissolve through the wall and float down to the street. He is on his way elsewhere so I once again dissolve and then re-materialize on an upper floor of the house.
The interior is decorated in Art Nouveau style. The walls are hand-painted, the woodwork is carved, golden oak. Most of the walls and furniture are colored in a soothing buff hue.
The lights are off. I walk into a small bedroom but can’t see that well. I move back into the hallway and realize that since I am dreaming I have the power to turn on the lights. I lift my arms in a sweeping arc, like the move in Tai Chi called Gathering in the Chi. I can feel that I am creating the dream from my second chakra. But only a few lights go on. So I understand that the structure of the dream as it is unfolding is more important to experience than my ability to change it at will.
Second: I am at the bow of a small power boat. Chris is at the stern, operating the motor. We are traveling across a huge lake, with deep blue water the color of Lake Superior. Off to our right is an island park where some of our friends have gone to picnic. But we continue on our path, through a hidden channel that runs through the lake. Giant, downed trees float to the left of the boat but Chris seems to know how to stay in the safety of the channel. Another island is coming up on our right, full of tall pines. Again I realize I am creating the dream, so I think it might be interesting to stir the waves. Churn things up. I lift my arms again but nothing happens. Which I find amusing.
Day notes
Nemo is battering New England today.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
I’m in New Mexico, taking a workshop from the ceramic artist Debra Fritts (who lives in Abiquiu, 50 miles north of Santa Fe). The class is being held outdoors, on a low sandy mesa in the high desert. The day is warm but not hot. The sky is clear and blue: it could be August monsoon season, my favorite.
I’m sitting on the ground on a large Indian blanket, cross-legged. There is a water-filled ditch below the shallow mesa, a little to the right of where I sit. I get up and walk down to the water to retrieve my clothes, which have been soaking in the crystal-clear water.
Floating in the water is my old white blouse, a loose-fitting, square-cut shirt with three-quarter length sleeves that I used to wear at least ten years ago (until it yellowed and I threw it away). There’s a dark-colored jacket, maybe a jean jacket or maybe a black jacket, I’m not sure; also a pair of cheap brown work gloves and fancy white lace fingerless gloves. Tops and gloves are all made of cotton.
I pull everything out and see that the water has purified the cotton fibers: whites are brilliant and dark colors have deepened.
I head back up to the blanket to prepare for the workshop but another woman has taken my place. She is quite haughty; she hasn’t noticed (or doesn’t care) that I had already been seated on “her” corner of the blanket.
I find her irritating and petty. Instead of picking a fight, I pick up my clothes, journal, pencils and other art supplies and move onto another blanket to right of her, a few feet lower on the mesa. I sit alone on the upper left corner of the second blanket, writing in my journal.
I have great respect for Debra and am excited to start the workshop. I’m looking forward to sleeping in the desert, beneath the stars.
