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September 30, 2004

Analyse this: Hypertext Dream 9-26-04

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Because my sleep has been so disturbed as I approach cronehood , my dreams are few and far between. I did have one on Saturday, and it has been suggested that I hypertext it, as an experiment. So here goes.

I have come to a warehousey building with a huge, strange, primitive elevator/escalator in it. I am there to have a professional scrapbook made of my transformation . I have brought the stuff I want to work with, which includes a horse's leg (miniature) and a flowered skirt to place over it. I discover, when talking to the other merchants in the building who are waiting by the elevator contraption that the company that I'm looking for is out of business . I am disappointed and think I will have to make the scrapbook by myself .

A severely handicapped woman of my acquaintance, P., is on the escalator/elevator. She is struggling. Her mother is watching critically from the top. I help her get up and down, but it is a mighty effort . A. helps also, but leaves before she has reached the top. P. is by now crawling on her stomach, and I am holding onto her and yelling to A. for help . He doesn't respond. I pull her onto the platform.

I go to the basement of the building where P., exhausted, is lying sprawled on a double bedcovered by a white sheet in a side room. A. is sleeping outside on a couch , also covered by a white sheet.

Upstairs, the building is full of fascinating shops. I enter one of them, that I think is on the second floor, explore it ,and notice that it opens onto ground level. There is a beautiful long grassy courtyard with tables along a path. The tables each have lovely displays of of food and soaps for sampling. A sort of festival .

I have to go to the airport . A is with me and we are on foot, heading for the train station. We get separated and I find him on the stairs at the station , like Penn Station, looking out of the window at a bus stop . We approach the bus stop and a tall handsome man in a raincoat recognizes us. I think he hugs me. A. is anxious because his learning disability kicks in and he cannot place the face or the name. I tease a little. The guy is the husband of a musicologist couple we know. When he finds out that we are going to the airport, he suggests we take our bikes . I'm enthusiatic , although I don't know the way, and say I will follow

Eventually we come to a path up a hill, near the musicologist's house. The path has recently been built. Plastic sheeting has been fitted to the path and covered with sawdust. It is very slippery and we cannot ride our bikes up the hill. We try to remove the plastic sheeting from under the sawdust without making too much of a mess . I am afraid of getting into terrible trouble with his neighbors for ruining the path.

Anyone care to interpret ?

Photo note: Stairs, moving from one level to another. The mystique and power of the ordinary.

Posted by Dakota at September 30, 2004 08:02 AM