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dream log, Wednesday, 05-11-2005
May. 11th, 2005 04:33 pmLast night I dreamed about:
A) drawing maps and diagrams of a complex international incident involving about six imaginary countries with varying political systems and economic needs
B) discussing the linguistic derrivation of the name Giles with my father, as we drove through Ithaca on the bus route to my job. He maintained it was of Germanic origin, but was also widely used among Anglo-Irish people. We then started talking about English, French, German, and Russian and their influences over the personal and place names of Europe
C) discussing (also with my father) the historical economic rise of islands between Ireland and Iceland, including Torvelk and Midway, which then faded as larger powers with greater coal resources were able to outproduce them. They remain in the forefront of alternative energy research, however
D) reading the third book of a trilogy, in which the first two books dealt with the confrontation between good and evil, and the third was devoted to the heroes' journey to the promised land and their reward. It involved mountains. And on the way, they stopped in a forest and were granted rest and comfort by the vaguely elf-like people who lived there, including the human wife of one elf. And one man in the company, who had been badly wounded and lost his entire family during the confrontation, decided to stay and rest in eternal sleep rather than seek the promised land
E) flipping through illustrations of that book, accompanied by a symphony that resembled the bit of Fantasia where people walk on a long pilgrimage bearing lights. Except then there were suddenly pictures of constellations, and white horses with eight or sixteen legs rearing against the night sky as waves crashed onto a desolate beach, and the music started picking up speed and getting away from me
F) traveling through the pages of a modern art exhibit -- some pictures, some glass sculpture, etc. -- as my parents and my sister and I made vehicle noises on our journey to Jerusalem and the promised land in the utmost west. We reached the Pocconos about the time the white horses melted into mist and rain, and then proceeded across a scratchy, red-brown rendering of Kansas and the Southwest, before my mom told us to take the next exit since we were stopping in Wisconsin for the night. That surprised me, since I'd thought we were pushing on nonstop to LA, where we'd catch a flight for Midway and then Jerusalem, but I was glad for the rest.
...
It irritates me that I can apparently compose music in my sleep, but can't remember or recreate it when I wake up. One time I dreamed a sprightly 12/8 folk dance -- it was in an anxiety dream about forgetting to practice my oboe and then showing up late to a concert -- that I've always wished I could remember.
I can remember words, though. I have occasionally dreamed snippets of dialogue, description, or poetry that I actually have used in stories.
A) drawing maps and diagrams of a complex international incident involving about six imaginary countries with varying political systems and economic needs
B) discussing the linguistic derrivation of the name Giles with my father, as we drove through Ithaca on the bus route to my job. He maintained it was of Germanic origin, but was also widely used among Anglo-Irish people. We then started talking about English, French, German, and Russian and their influences over the personal and place names of Europe
C) discussing (also with my father) the historical economic rise of islands between Ireland and Iceland, including Torvelk and Midway, which then faded as larger powers with greater coal resources were able to outproduce them. They remain in the forefront of alternative energy research, however
D) reading the third book of a trilogy, in which the first two books dealt with the confrontation between good and evil, and the third was devoted to the heroes' journey to the promised land and their reward. It involved mountains. And on the way, they stopped in a forest and were granted rest and comfort by the vaguely elf-like people who lived there, including the human wife of one elf. And one man in the company, who had been badly wounded and lost his entire family during the confrontation, decided to stay and rest in eternal sleep rather than seek the promised land
E) flipping through illustrations of that book, accompanied by a symphony that resembled the bit of Fantasia where people walk on a long pilgrimage bearing lights. Except then there were suddenly pictures of constellations, and white horses with eight or sixteen legs rearing against the night sky as waves crashed onto a desolate beach, and the music started picking up speed and getting away from me
F) traveling through the pages of a modern art exhibit -- some pictures, some glass sculpture, etc. -- as my parents and my sister and I made vehicle noises on our journey to Jerusalem and the promised land in the utmost west. We reached the Pocconos about the time the white horses melted into mist and rain, and then proceeded across a scratchy, red-brown rendering of Kansas and the Southwest, before my mom told us to take the next exit since we were stopping in Wisconsin for the night. That surprised me, since I'd thought we were pushing on nonstop to LA, where we'd catch a flight for Midway and then Jerusalem, but I was glad for the rest.
...
It irritates me that I can apparently compose music in my sleep, but can't remember or recreate it when I wake up. One time I dreamed a sprightly 12/8 folk dance -- it was in an anxiety dream about forgetting to practice my oboe and then showing up late to a concert -- that I've always wished I could remember.
I can remember words, though. I have occasionally dreamed snippets of dialogue, description, or poetry that I actually have used in stories.
