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I had a flying dream
Feb. 16th, 2012 11:25 pmIt was the weirdest thing. First, I was in trouble for not going to rehearsals with this orchestra I was playing with that was actually a bunch of kids in their teens and twenties. I have no idea what I was doing running around with these children, but there you have it. I seemed to see the director as some sort of authority figure. I may also have been in love with him.
Then, as a result of finally showing up and managing to fix several of my bandmates' mobile phones and possibly an iPad (don't ask), I was offered some kind of fellowship at a university which seemed to be attached to my high school alma mater, which was this bizarre place in Michigan, only it looked a lot like Camden Lock Market.
Time flew by, as it does, and I'd been there for ages, and this director and I were apparently having a real life relationship, though I couldn't even tell you what the fellow looked like: he was mostly a compelling voice over the phone and a lot of titillating ideas (isn't that always the way), but we had trouble finding places to be together because his place was cramped and he lived with about a dozen other people for some reason.
So one night, I had the bright idea that I should check out the university digs, since they gave them to me as part of the fellowship. I was expecting some dingy room with a single bare bulb, particularly when I found out that the address was located somewhere in the camp area of my old alma mater, and that's where it becomes important that the Fine Arts building (lovingly nicknamed F/Arts) that was really just a cabin had been replaced by something that looked a lot like Camden Lock Market (see above).
I went to the desk and presented them with my letter of residency, and they told me where to go and I started walking. My knees were hurting me, but I reminded myself that as this was a dream I could get around easily even if I still had arthritis, so there was this floaty chair assigned to me. I got to the digs door, where I was told I was on the 42nd floor, to take the stairs up to the lift and just press '42', and then I'd be able to find my address.
I looked up into the night sky to see hundreds of glimmering little bits of light that might have been houses, up in the sky. I figured you'd have to be important to rate one of those. I got in the lift and pressed 42.
Whenever there's a lift in my dreams, it always seems to go sideways. I'm not sure why that happens, but there you have it. I went up for a ways, sideways for a ways, then up again. Different people got on and got off.
Level 42, as it turned out, was the launch pad for the floaty glimmer houses. I couldn't believe my luck, but I also was kicking myself, because how long had I been there without realising I had a floaty glimmer house? Somebody should have told me, but I'm sure I'm just as bad about reading mail (e or snail) there as I am here, so. I walked to the new residents reception kiosk and gave them my letter. They chuckled and plugged a number into my floaty chair, gave me the key, and wished me a good night.
It was like flying above a Disney set. There were lakes and waterfalls and all manner of nifty little things, and when I got to my address I realised they weren't glimmer houses, they were glimmer neighbourhoods. I could see one in the distance that was all moderny, but mine was castley, which suited me just fine. The door was green. I expected to have a little room in a nice residence, but as it turned out, the whole thing was mine. Little invisible servants kept asking me what I would like this or that room to be. The dining area was like a restaurant -- complete with people eating in it. I set the space to private, and they all got up and politely left, carrying their meals in little picnic baskets. I had to come back later and set several other entrances and exits private as I shooed off more and more diners. A neighbour told me they ware glad I'd finally appeared as everyone was getting tired of the squatters in my house.
Which had a room for knitting, and a room full of gadgets, and a room full of harps, and an office at the very top with a 360° view of the surrounding neighbourhood and a skylight that looked up into a clear night sky, always above the clouds. Every so often I'd discover a new exit I needed to make private, but I was on the phone shortly sending a text message to my director telling him I'd found a place we could be together.
I was conscious the whole time this was a dream but great little details kept shooting through that must have come directly from my subconscious. The last scene was me giving the beloved a tour in the floaty chair and whizzing all around showcasing the little street of shops in the neighbourhood, meeting my neighbours, and whinging about the necessity of going down to campus to teach class.
So, that's why I didn't want to get up today.
Then, as a result of finally showing up and managing to fix several of my bandmates' mobile phones and possibly an iPad (don't ask), I was offered some kind of fellowship at a university which seemed to be attached to my high school alma mater, which was this bizarre place in Michigan, only it looked a lot like Camden Lock Market.
Time flew by, as it does, and I'd been there for ages, and this director and I were apparently having a real life relationship, though I couldn't even tell you what the fellow looked like: he was mostly a compelling voice over the phone and a lot of titillating ideas (isn't that always the way), but we had trouble finding places to be together because his place was cramped and he lived with about a dozen other people for some reason.
So one night, I had the bright idea that I should check out the university digs, since they gave them to me as part of the fellowship. I was expecting some dingy room with a single bare bulb, particularly when I found out that the address was located somewhere in the camp area of my old alma mater, and that's where it becomes important that the Fine Arts building (lovingly nicknamed F/Arts) that was really just a cabin had been replaced by something that looked a lot like Camden Lock Market (see above).
I went to the desk and presented them with my letter of residency, and they told me where to go and I started walking. My knees were hurting me, but I reminded myself that as this was a dream I could get around easily even if I still had arthritis, so there was this floaty chair assigned to me. I got to the digs door, where I was told I was on the 42nd floor, to take the stairs up to the lift and just press '42', and then I'd be able to find my address.
I looked up into the night sky to see hundreds of glimmering little bits of light that might have been houses, up in the sky. I figured you'd have to be important to rate one of those. I got in the lift and pressed 42.
Whenever there's a lift in my dreams, it always seems to go sideways. I'm not sure why that happens, but there you have it. I went up for a ways, sideways for a ways, then up again. Different people got on and got off.
Level 42, as it turned out, was the launch pad for the floaty glimmer houses. I couldn't believe my luck, but I also was kicking myself, because how long had I been there without realising I had a floaty glimmer house? Somebody should have told me, but I'm sure I'm just as bad about reading mail (e or snail) there as I am here, so. I walked to the new residents reception kiosk and gave them my letter. They chuckled and plugged a number into my floaty chair, gave me the key, and wished me a good night.
It was like flying above a Disney set. There were lakes and waterfalls and all manner of nifty little things, and when I got to my address I realised they weren't glimmer houses, they were glimmer neighbourhoods. I could see one in the distance that was all moderny, but mine was castley, which suited me just fine. The door was green. I expected to have a little room in a nice residence, but as it turned out, the whole thing was mine. Little invisible servants kept asking me what I would like this or that room to be. The dining area was like a restaurant -- complete with people eating in it. I set the space to private, and they all got up and politely left, carrying their meals in little picnic baskets. I had to come back later and set several other entrances and exits private as I shooed off more and more diners. A neighbour told me they ware glad I'd finally appeared as everyone was getting tired of the squatters in my house.
Which had a room for knitting, and a room full of gadgets, and a room full of harps, and an office at the very top with a 360° view of the surrounding neighbourhood and a skylight that looked up into a clear night sky, always above the clouds. Every so often I'd discover a new exit I needed to make private, but I was on the phone shortly sending a text message to my director telling him I'd found a place we could be together.
I was conscious the whole time this was a dream but great little details kept shooting through that must have come directly from my subconscious. The last scene was me giving the beloved a tour in the floaty chair and whizzing all around showcasing the little street of shops in the neighbourhood, meeting my neighbours, and whinging about the necessity of going down to campus to teach class.
So, that's why I didn't want to get up today.
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