Whirlwind. Turmoil. Heart pixelated and fuzzy, low-rez version of what may be. Hologram obscured by mist of maybe-emotion. Path has never looked more unclear. But then, I always did love a walk in the fog. When it clears I am somewhere new and bright.
Pebbles and bare feet. Pain. Pebbles become rocks then stones then smooth ancient boulders weathered by time and experience. Climb and your experience grows. Rise above the fog, laying like a Shroediger's blanket below where you have been... the world exists and does not exist simultaneously until the uncertainty-mist clears, revealing your version of truth.
Truth is what you painted in your mind, imagining what lay beneath the fog. Your life is what you paint. Your mind projects it onto the blank construct of two dimensional space; the third dimension is time and the fourth is your perception of it, which creates the illusion of depth. No two perceptions are alike. Every person is a Universe within, and creates their own Universe without.
No one Universe is any better or more right than any other.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Turbulent dream
What might this represent?
I was at work, in a three-storey office building. Not where I work now, or with the same people. In my dream I enjoyed my work a great deal but also enjoyed my free time.
My office was maybe a half mile from the beach. It was a small but busy town called Monica Beach, where I had just moved a few weeks prior. No, not Santa Monica. I don’t even know if this was California. Maybe; it felt further north than LA yet at the same time, looked a bit Hawaiian. Come to think of it, it almost seemed like a much smaller version of Monterey Bay. It was lovely, with old buildings and houses right alongside modern structures. Nothing in the town was over three floors high… it was a rule to keep the view of the ocean from the hillsides intact for all people to enjoy.
I took my lunch break, eating from a small vending cart streetside, listening to a couple of brightly scrubbed teenagers with battered guitars and shiny voices busk for small bills and change. Everything in this town was clean. No trash in the gutters. No dust on windows. No stains on the sidewalks. All clothes pressed and no hair out of place. It looked perfect from the outside. A living breathing 60s sitcom set, moved into a modern world.
Mid-bite into my second street taco I heard a thundering crash come from the direction of the beach. I choked, dropped the taco and whirled to find the source. I saw a spray of ocean water 60 feet high. I threw a dollar at the teens and another at the taco guy and screamed for them to RUN. They looked at me like I was utterly strange and stayed where they were. Fine.
I started running away from the beach, looking for high ground, when I heard another crash. This time, the spray fell like rain on me within moments of the wave breaking. I did not look back to see how high. As I was running, people were walking around and talking like it was no big deal that huge walls of water were bearing down on their town. WTF. Was I hallucinating?
For some reason, the doors to every building I tried to enter were locked. I found one house cut into a hill too steep to climb, but it had emergency ladders bolted to its side. Rung by rung I climbed until I got to the top. There was a door to another house and through the window I saw a woman and her baby. Several more waves had crashed, each higher than the last, so I beat on her door to warn her. She saw me through the window and clutched her baby tighter, asking me what I wanted. I begged her to please let me in. She looked very frightened, and refused. I screamed that there were waves coming. She still refused, and retreated into another room. I broke open the door and followed her.
Another wave crashed down, this one much higher, at least 80 feet. It was over half a mile away but level with my current elevation. I dragged her to the window to see. She laughed and said in 100 years the water had never hurt this town. They were protected. As the words left her mouth, a torrent tore through the street below us. Her mouth fell open in shock. The baby started to cry. I grabbed them and tried to get them to leave for even higher ground, but they would not.
I ran around the back of her house which was also built on a hill, and found another ladder. I took it to the top of that structure and found myself on a gorgeous rooftop deck. The view to the ocean was perfect. I could see the unending train of waves bearing down one by one. Each was higher than the next.
There were maybe 50 people on the deck. BBQ. Beer. Kids laughing. Adults with binoculars. I asked wtf was going on and was told by a woman dressed in her Sunday best that this was the annual Water Tower party, commemorating 100 years of safety from the waves because of the magic Water Tower built by the town’s founder. I screamed at her that they were NOT safe, that water was scouring the streets below them if they would only turn and look. She laughed. Ridiculous, they said. They would not see.
I turned to watch the next wave break. This one was over 100 feet tall when it hit the beach, and went inland for 1000 feet before breaking. The screams of the people below were louder than the roar of the water. Not here. Glasses of wine clinked. Soft laughter punctuated the sizzling grill. The meat smelled so bloody and salty like seawater. No one had any awareness of the destruction happening below. Every building at street level was underwater. In and out like a Fundy tide it rolled, every wave scouring the city clean. Pieces of mortar and trees and bodies like so much flotsam were sucked out to sea, never to be seen again. One bright red bit looked a lot like the dress the woman with the baby had been wearing… It swirled and went under. I shifted my eyes up from the destruction to see another wave.
As it approached I knew it was at least 300 feet tall. I did a quick calculation and realized it would inundate the top of even this hill. Behind me was one more hill with a tall water tower on it. I ran for it.
Reaching the base, I grabbed for the ladder. Gilbert Grape had nothing on me. I shot up the side of the base like an ant up a wall. At the bottom of the bulb was a hatch; I open it, scrambled inside, and made my way down a low narrow corridor to a door. Outside was the ladder up to the top of the tower. My arms were burning. As I pulled myself to the top, I could feel a strange pulsing sensation coming from the slick steel of the tank. I didn’t stop to think about it. I got to the top, now 1000 feet above the beach. The 300 foot waves had breached the line of hills from whence I had just come. Nothing moved below me. Aside from the water, and the strange hum below my feet, it was quiet. No wind. No birds. No breath. I gasped.
Suddenly the water tower started to shake. Earthquake? No… more like a vibration. It got stronger and stronger and the hum became a sonic wall of pain. The ocean below started to ripple like a shaken bowl of jello, frothy peaks of water topping it like whipped cream. Another wave was coming. The final wave. The tower started screaming. 1000 feet of water rushed toward me. 1000 feet of water aimed straight at the tower. I started screaming with the tower.
The scream woke me up.
I was at work, in a three-storey office building. Not where I work now, or with the same people. In my dream I enjoyed my work a great deal but also enjoyed my free time.
My office was maybe a half mile from the beach. It was a small but busy town called Monica Beach, where I had just moved a few weeks prior. No, not Santa Monica. I don’t even know if this was California. Maybe; it felt further north than LA yet at the same time, looked a bit Hawaiian. Come to think of it, it almost seemed like a much smaller version of Monterey Bay. It was lovely, with old buildings and houses right alongside modern structures. Nothing in the town was over three floors high… it was a rule to keep the view of the ocean from the hillsides intact for all people to enjoy.
I took my lunch break, eating from a small vending cart streetside, listening to a couple of brightly scrubbed teenagers with battered guitars and shiny voices busk for small bills and change. Everything in this town was clean. No trash in the gutters. No dust on windows. No stains on the sidewalks. All clothes pressed and no hair out of place. It looked perfect from the outside. A living breathing 60s sitcom set, moved into a modern world.
Mid-bite into my second street taco I heard a thundering crash come from the direction of the beach. I choked, dropped the taco and whirled to find the source. I saw a spray of ocean water 60 feet high. I threw a dollar at the teens and another at the taco guy and screamed for them to RUN. They looked at me like I was utterly strange and stayed where they were. Fine.
I started running away from the beach, looking for high ground, when I heard another crash. This time, the spray fell like rain on me within moments of the wave breaking. I did not look back to see how high. As I was running, people were walking around and talking like it was no big deal that huge walls of water were bearing down on their town. WTF. Was I hallucinating?
For some reason, the doors to every building I tried to enter were locked. I found one house cut into a hill too steep to climb, but it had emergency ladders bolted to its side. Rung by rung I climbed until I got to the top. There was a door to another house and through the window I saw a woman and her baby. Several more waves had crashed, each higher than the last, so I beat on her door to warn her. She saw me through the window and clutched her baby tighter, asking me what I wanted. I begged her to please let me in. She looked very frightened, and refused. I screamed that there were waves coming. She still refused, and retreated into another room. I broke open the door and followed her.
Another wave crashed down, this one much higher, at least 80 feet. It was over half a mile away but level with my current elevation. I dragged her to the window to see. She laughed and said in 100 years the water had never hurt this town. They were protected. As the words left her mouth, a torrent tore through the street below us. Her mouth fell open in shock. The baby started to cry. I grabbed them and tried to get them to leave for even higher ground, but they would not.
I ran around the back of her house which was also built on a hill, and found another ladder. I took it to the top of that structure and found myself on a gorgeous rooftop deck. The view to the ocean was perfect. I could see the unending train of waves bearing down one by one. Each was higher than the next.
There were maybe 50 people on the deck. BBQ. Beer. Kids laughing. Adults with binoculars. I asked wtf was going on and was told by a woman dressed in her Sunday best that this was the annual Water Tower party, commemorating 100 years of safety from the waves because of the magic Water Tower built by the town’s founder. I screamed at her that they were NOT safe, that water was scouring the streets below them if they would only turn and look. She laughed. Ridiculous, they said. They would not see.
I turned to watch the next wave break. This one was over 100 feet tall when it hit the beach, and went inland for 1000 feet before breaking. The screams of the people below were louder than the roar of the water. Not here. Glasses of wine clinked. Soft laughter punctuated the sizzling grill. The meat smelled so bloody and salty like seawater. No one had any awareness of the destruction happening below. Every building at street level was underwater. In and out like a Fundy tide it rolled, every wave scouring the city clean. Pieces of mortar and trees and bodies like so much flotsam were sucked out to sea, never to be seen again. One bright red bit looked a lot like the dress the woman with the baby had been wearing… It swirled and went under. I shifted my eyes up from the destruction to see another wave.
As it approached I knew it was at least 300 feet tall. I did a quick calculation and realized it would inundate the top of even this hill. Behind me was one more hill with a tall water tower on it. I ran for it.
Reaching the base, I grabbed for the ladder. Gilbert Grape had nothing on me. I shot up the side of the base like an ant up a wall. At the bottom of the bulb was a hatch; I open it, scrambled inside, and made my way down a low narrow corridor to a door. Outside was the ladder up to the top of the tower. My arms were burning. As I pulled myself to the top, I could feel a strange pulsing sensation coming from the slick steel of the tank. I didn’t stop to think about it. I got to the top, now 1000 feet above the beach. The 300 foot waves had breached the line of hills from whence I had just come. Nothing moved below me. Aside from the water, and the strange hum below my feet, it was quiet. No wind. No birds. No breath. I gasped.
Suddenly the water tower started to shake. Earthquake? No… more like a vibration. It got stronger and stronger and the hum became a sonic wall of pain. The ocean below started to ripple like a shaken bowl of jello, frothy peaks of water topping it like whipped cream. Another wave was coming. The final wave. The tower started screaming. 1000 feet of water rushed toward me. 1000 feet of water aimed straight at the tower. I started screaming with the tower.
The scream woke me up.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Mindless migraine meandering
I don't get migraine headaches often, but when I do, I just want to crawl into dark quiet cave, bury my head and body under warm soft fluffy covers, and cry. I got one last night, and I still have it this morning.
I have taken some pain meds, and hope they kick in soon, because I have a HUGE day at work today. I have been given additional hours and responsibilities (YAY!) which means more satisfaction and ultimately more money. The first day of the month, the first 8 days in fact, are the busiest, most stressful, and most intense, so I have to get better.
I have a gig tonight too... my cover band West of 5 is playing at Pounders, 9PM-1AM. I got used to short single sets on tour... now I have to do long multiple sets, singing and playing guitar. It's a fun band and I enjoy the work, but I really miss Lapis Lazuli and the music we do.
Bah. Maybe a blazing hot shower will help with this headache. I'll check in later.
I have taken some pain meds, and hope they kick in soon, because I have a HUGE day at work today. I have been given additional hours and responsibilities (YAY!) which means more satisfaction and ultimately more money. The first day of the month, the first 8 days in fact, are the busiest, most stressful, and most intense, so I have to get better.
I have a gig tonight too... my cover band West of 5 is playing at Pounders, 9PM-1AM. I got used to short single sets on tour... now I have to do long multiple sets, singing and playing guitar. It's a fun band and I enjoy the work, but I really miss Lapis Lazuli and the music we do.
Bah. Maybe a blazing hot shower will help with this headache. I'll check in later.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
