I was building web sites, and working with two different clients. One was a guy in a band; the other, I can't recall. Anyway, I leave the second client's, stop by a friend's (who, btw, lives hundreds of miles from here), who's listening to some gawdawful music (which in real life, he also does), and telling me about this computer script he's written called "fuck you." He decides to go along with me on the call to see the band guy. We go there -- along the way, I'm trying to remember how to get there, never quite pinning it down, but in that dreamstate of liquid, shifting, transposed locations, we do eventually arrive. We're looking for band photos for scanning. He hands me this huge, fat packet of photos -- must have thousands of photos in it -- and they're not sorted in any sense. Family photos, everything -- one huge, unorganized mess. He points out a photo of him with his departed sister. Then, he tells us about this dude's answering machine we have to call and hear the message -- it was really funny, and outrageously partisan in nature, but of course, I don't remember what it said. Then, dude's father comes in, as dude is rolling a phattie, and excuses himself for interrupting. I want to talk to the father, and a long discussion takes place centering around the father's dead daughter, who, as we later find out, I reveal to him is my half-sister, and I'm pissed at him and my mom for never having told me about her. I never got to meet her, even! WTF? The whole time, I'm playing with candle wax, one piece of which turns into a perfect, small rectangular piece of beveled glass, as I'm molding it in my fingers.
Then, the alarm goes off, I'm awake.
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6 comments :
There's got to be something significant for you in all of this, but it's hard to pin it down within all the strangeness. Dreams are so weird, aren't they?
I recently woke up from a dream where the name "Natty Bumpo" kept running through it. I had NO IDEA what the name meant. I googled it and found out he was the heroic main character in James Fenimore Cooper's Leatherstocking tales. I can't remember reading them, but wonder what the significance might be. I've been too busy to pursue it further.
Yeah -- it's very odd. Maybe it has to do with my mom e-mailing me recently, to let me know that one of her old friends is dying. I dunno.
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Dreams seem to be a sort of brain maintenance, turning over stuff you haven't thought about properly. I like the bit about the rectangular piece of beveled glass, it's intriguing. (I presume you don't work with pieces of beveled glass). That probably means something like you're doing your normal job while absent-mindedly performing some important creative work. Maybe it represents this blog!
Since posting a comment earlier, I went to the library this afternoon and checked out James Fenimore Cooper's "The Deerslayer." I thought I'd give it a try since Natty Bumpo's name was so prominant in my recent dream. Maybe something in it will enlighten me about present circumstances.
P. Drāno -- Interesting handle! ;)
No, I don't work with glass, at all. In fact, about the only factual things which make sense in this dream are the fact that I do occasionaly build web sites, and my friend does listen to music I find quite, erm... trying. :) All else is just... from Out There, Somewhere.
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Sandy-LA 90034 -- Good luck with that; let me know if you receive any insights!
I don't place a lot of importance on dreams... I just find them interesting. I think it's like a nightly defragmentation of brain files. Gets all the important stuff in contiguous blocks, but your dreams are all the bits and pieces that are leftover, mostly. That's my theory, anyway.
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