(Sunday, January 2, 2022, sister Jamie’s birthday)
I did not sleep past midnight on New Year’s Eve, so the first dream I remember of 2022 is a fragment from this morning. I’m facing a wide mountain range. The slopes are covered by pines and small boulders. I see no roads or pathways but I do see a shiny black vehicle that is larger than a Jeep. It has specially-designed wheels and tires. I watch the upper right wheel spin in a demonstration focused toward me. The entire truck, in fact, is engineered to travel effortlessly along the long, steep ridge.
As I write this fragment, a second one comes up of me working on some art projects. A book?
A fragment from Saturday includes an older woman and man who are the couple who designed our Rustic Lodge House in 1903. They are intelligent and well-suited to each other and their family. The man has a twin soul aspect: he is a married man that I have current fondness for. Most of the dream takes place along a wooded lakeshore, which is the theme I have been having lately. The oddest aspect of the dream shows young children being put inside square, clear plastic boxes. The boxes will somehow transfer them across light years of space.
Wednesday provided a waking dream. I drove past 58th and Lyndale to pick up a bowl of soup at Lakewinds Coop that I brought with me on my trip to visit my parents in Cambridge. A few minutes after I arrived, my cousin Tom Wolfe (Richards) called and the four of us talked for about 45 minutes. It was his mother (my godmother) Marge’s 100th birthday. Her old house is at 5725 Bryant Avenue South.