Wednesday, November 14, 2012

House Adventures

Dream 1
We've moved into a new place. It's a house that was well known in college for being a party house, and for being very run down. But it's been fixed up quite a bit, so there are no major problems and there's fresh paint over even the weird patchy walls. The dominant colors are a dark grey and a dark brown, but there's a nice morning light coming through windows so that the place isn't dark or cold. The house is huge and the spaces in it are big and open with high ceilings. We're just renting a couple rooms in this shared house and it is super cheap - about $135 per month. My two cats look around, and spend a long time looking out the windows. They are not pleased with the space because it doesn't have the yard and wild lands that our old [waking life] place has for them to roam. There's a lot of traffic on the street outside the house so I don't want them to go out, but they find a way out and find a small patch of grass to roll around in. They are not happy with the house though, and I don't like them being outside with all the traffic. But the rent is very cheap so I'm conflicted.

Dream 2
I'm headed to work along my usual bike commute route, though I'm walking/hovering/not really paying attention to how I'm moving. At a spot which in waking life always has a bunch of older teens who smoke and drag babies around with them and seem to be heading to an alternative high school environment, all of that is going on. I try to detour around them, and turn right up a block I don't usually go up, and then I turn right again at the next block. This has become a very suburban street with cute diverse older-style pacific northwest houses lining it.

I go up the block and at the intersection the house across the street on the right side seems to be where the teens are headed for the day. Still trying to detour around them, I walk towards the house a bit, and find that the road curves steeply upwards towards the curb by the house. I can't climb all the way up it, and when I turn around I see how steep it was and don't want to go back down. So I walk along the side, neither climbing nor descending, and up the street farther. I climb a slight hill as I get to the end of this block (which turns the corner to the right, but deadends shortly after) and look up, to see the house at the end of the block looming over the rest of the neighborhood.

The house is tall grey concrete with a nondescript garage door in the center of it. About 2 stories up, a bulbous tree trunk and roots bulge/bubble out over the edge of the concrete structure. I go up the hill of the street to the right just till I'm to the right of this house, and find a way onto the house. This part that I've entered is at the base of the bulging tree trunk, and is made of brittle, but thick dark grey branches that encircle the trunk, all growing out in rings at about the same height, so that there's a ring of branches at my feet, and another ring at about my shoulder height. The lower ring goes out about 9 feet before curving upwards, while the upper ring curves upwards quickly, so that I can walk on the lower ring, while holding the upper ring of branches for support.

I don't trust these branches to support me, so I walk catlike testing each step, and having a good grip on two upper branches at all times. Walking clockwise around the base of the tree, I spiral upwards two levels. For a while, the lower branches are filled in with what appears to be a single layer-brick wall that is lying on its side, built with the branches for support, but they're crumbling and only one layer thick, so I stick to the branches as much as possible.

At the top of this climb, I enter a circular room, which is warmly lit as if by fire/candles and filled with deep reds and browns. The center of the room is dominated by a large circular wood table. There are fireplaces on both sides of the room, the left one framed in dark wood and the right one made of light grey stone, but there's no fire burning in either. There's a big pot of lamp oil in a corner, dark red rugs and dark wooden chests about the room, cozy clutter on surfaces, and overall the feel is that the room belongs to a wizard. There are no candles or other lights to be seen, except for one single battery powered mock-candle on a small table which is not responsible for the light in the room.

I'm struck with the idea that I should make a fire, so I start gathering flammable objects on and under the big circular table in the middle of the room. I put a sheet over the table am fiddling with a box of large matches and am thinking about pouring the lamp oil over everything, when someone else joins me in the room and tosses a bunch of quilts on to the table, wads up a sheet, dunks it in the lamp oil and tries to toss the damp sheet wadded up on top of the table too. I protest that they're messing up my fire and they respond with some annoyed comment and leave me to continue. I shift the other person's quilts around, put the wadded up oiled sheet under the table with my other kindling and salvage what I can of the lamp oil left in the pot, drizzling it over the table. I go back to fiddling with the box of large matches and wake up before I actually light one.

Thursday, November 1, 2012


A bus full of people with whom I was traveling was leaving without me. I ran outside to tell them to stop, but saw that if I ran, they would easily be gone before I could catch them. So I decided to fly over. I leapt and took off, flying low above the ground towards the bus, which was just starting to pull through the driveway. The bus turned down the driveway, somewhat towards me, so I adjusted my direction, and thought to myself that I should just ask the driver where their next stop would be, and then plan to fly and catch up with them after I was done here. But then, as I was correcting my course to fly towards them, a giant wind picked up and held me back. It was a strong wind across my face and body, and it blew me back to being awake.

This is the only time in a dream that I can recall that there has been real wind.