hair plugs

hair plugs

an Asian woman has three hair plugs in the top of her forehead.  She's annoyed because they didn't finish the job.  They look terrible.  Three round plugs in her forehead.  It was the style.

Thinner! (milk?)

Thinner! (Milk?)

I dream that I am visibly thinner.  Not thin, but clearly thinner than I am now.  I am deeply pleased with this.  At one point in the dream, I seem to be seeing myself from the back.

I dream I am drinking a large glass of milk and suddenly become aware of this and worried about it, since I am allergic to milk.  I am also telling myself it doesn't taste good, but I am not entirely convinced of this.  I seem unsure if it is good or not.

Waking up: Chapter 6: What the Rose Said and What the Fish Said

Chapter 6:  What the Rose Said and What the Fish Said

    "Hey!  We're inside the book!  I was thinking we'd go someplace. Look, we're black and white, like a drawing," Tammy said, staring at Matt.
    "And flat," Matt added, rubbing his flat hands down his totally flat body and laughing.
    "Let's look around.  This asteroid isn't very big.   If the Rose is still here, it shouldn't take long to find it."
    "There it is!"
    They ran over and knelt down beside the Rose.  She was not inside her glass jar, which was laying on its side next to her.  There were no caterpillars on her.  She seemed to be smiling.  "Hello, Rose," Tammy said,  "You're still here."
    "Of course I am still here.  And very well, I thank you."
    "I'm so glad.  Did the Little Prince come back?"
    "He came back many times.  He was here this morning in fact.  Picked off the caterpillars for me.  Gave me a little drink.  Told me his latest adventures.  And was off again."
    "When will he be back?"
    "I never know.  I just wait.  Love is the most important thing.  More important than anything.  Love and patience.  I have a nice view here.  I can see the asteroid with the man counting his money and the asteroid where the King sits {Get the details here}.  Sometimes, far off, I see the earth where the Little Prince once went.  And all the stars.  And the pretty planets.  It's a very nice view.  But the view I like best is the Little Prince coming back to me.  Love is everything.  It is all there is.  Friendship is love you know," she added, looking at the two of them coyly.  "Friendship a special kind of love.  Love is not just hugs and kisses.  Love is being kind to someone, looking out for them, picking off their caterpillars, putting them under a jar to protect them.  Helping them when they need help.  But you already know what, right?"
    "Um, . . .  ah . . ., yeah, sort of, of course," Tammy said, looking out of the corner of her eye at Matt.  He was turning the sole of his sneaker sideways and dragging it on the ground to make a little mark.  "Of course friendship is a kind of love."  Tammy added, more confidently.
    "And love," repeated the Rose, "is the most important thing."
    "Love," said Tammy, repeating it so that she would be sure to remember, "is the most important thing."
    "Bonjour," said a little voice.  The Little Prince had arrived.  He was a small child, smaller than Tammy expected he would be.  She had been wondering if he would have grown up.  He was sort of like Peter Pan, she guessed.  He looked just like he did in the book.  But, that wasn't surprising, since they were in the book.
    "Bonjour, Petite Prince," Tammy said.  "Do you understand English?"
    "Oh yes.  I'm in translation.  Anyway, I could always speak English. It's a natural talent."
    "We came to see if you were still alive."
    "Here I am.  I live inside this book.  I am always alive inside the book."
    "Yes, but did you make it back to the Rose in the end?"
    "The end has not arrived.  But I know, outside this book, my father Antoine died when his plane went down.  That was on Earth.  Here, he still visits sometimes, and says hello."
    "Are you alive?  Are you alive now?"
    "Are you a real boy?" another voice asked.  Everyone looked up.  It was Pinocchio.  He was not flat, and not black and white, but full color.  Something swept over them, like a hand passing over, and everyone went from black and white to color.  The little Prince and the Rose were still rather flat and looked like the color illustration of the book instead of like the inside pages.  But gradually, they became rounder and fuller.  "Are you a real boy?" Pinocchio repeated.
    "Oh, no," Tammy said, "this is my fault.  I keep worrying about what is real and what isn't.  I think that the 'waking word' is real and the 'dream world' is not.  People are real and books are not.  But books are so real that I was worried about what happened to you after you got bitten by the snake," she said to The Little Prince.  "Is all this in my head?  Just in my head?"
    "It's in my head too," Matt said.
    "And mine," said the Rose.  "What is real is not the important thing.  Love is the important thing."
    "If you want to know what's important," said the Little Prince, gravely, read the rest of my book.  Read about the roses on earth, and the fox and the children looking out the train window.  Read everything."
    "What's important," said Pinocchio, "is the truth.  Take it from me, you have to tell the truth."
    "That's exactly what I was worried about," said Tammy, "isn't what's real the same what's true?  Aieee--I'm confused."
    "What is Truth?"  Matt asked.  he reached into the air and plucked out a dictionary.  "Let me see here, t, t-r, here it is, 'truth, the actual state of matter, conforming with fact or reality, verified, an idea or fundamental reality apart from perceived experience."
    "See truth's tied to matter and reality."
    "What about that second part, 'an idea apart from perceived experience?"  Matt asked.
    "This is perceived experience.  Dreams and books are perceived experiences."
    "Everything we experience is perceived.  But, that doesn't make it not real.  Or not truthful.  One of the definitions hadn't gotten to is honesty, integrity.  I think that realness and truth have to do with honesty and integrity."
    "This is boring," said the Rose.  I already explained it all.  Love is the important thing.  If you have love, you have honesty and integrity and you are truthful and real.  Period.  Get on with it."
    "I think she's right," said the Little Prince.
    "Me, too, said Pinocchio.
    "Me three," said Matt.
    "I guess so," said Tammy.
    "We gotta go," said Matt, "Thank you all for your help.  Goodbye."
    "Bye, bye, bye, bye."
    The Farnsworth Chapel loomed over them.  "I've got to dash, Tammy, each of us has work to do together, and work to do apart, if we're to solve this puzzle, and it is time for some solo work.  Your dreams will lead you where you need to go."  Before Tammy could protest, he was gone.

    Tammy didn't want to stand at the edge of the graveyard too long.  Without Matt, it seemed really spooky and scary.  It seemed as if there was something she should be doing, but first, she wanted to locate her copy of The Little Prince.  She was pretty sure it was at her Grandmother's house, on a shelf in the old playroom where she still stayed when she went to visit.  If it was there, she'd get it over the weekend if she could.  She wanted to reread it.
    Her grandmother's house was dark, which wasn't surprising since it was now the wee hours of night.  She walked right through the wall into the playroom as if it were a bead curtain.  That was easy, she thought. 
    Right beside the wall where the came through was the dresser with the dark aquariums on top and her emergency clothes inside.  The book case with all the books Grandma kept there for her was beside the window.  Moonlight and street lamplight streamed through the window making two overlapping squares, one a weird pinkish color and one more whitish, and the place where they overlapped seemed painfully bright.  Tammy knelt on the floor in front of the bookcase and began looking for The Little Prince on the shelf of taller thinner books.  Kid books.  It was right where she thought it would be, next to Piggy Wiglet  on one side and Goodnight Moon on the other.  But The Little Prince was a different kind of book.  It wasn't really a little kid book. 
    She put her finger on the book and drew it down the spine.  She could feel the little creases in the paper cover from all the times she'd read the book.  "This is a dream," she said, out loud.  I'm awake, inside a dream.  And I can feel things, not just see them.
    Something seemed strange.  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.  She turned around and saw fish, swimming in the air above the aquarium.  Suddenly she remembered she had had this dream before, many times.  The fish came out at night, swam above the aquarium and off into the world.  They had to be back, she knew, before dawn.  If not, they would fall from the air that was no longer thick like water, and die on the floor.  Sometimes, Tammy had found their shrivelled bodies, all dried out, and stuck to the floor.  The  ones who hadn't made it back by down.  Grandma said that they jumped out of the aquarium, but Tammy had found them in other rooms.  And Grandma always smiled funny when she said that.  A couple times, Tammy found fish on the floor early in the morning and they were still alive.  She carefully picked them up with a wet cloth and returned them to the tank.  Usually, they recovered.  Sometimes, not.
    Tammy wondered where they went at night, and what they did.  She went over to the tank and watched the incoming fish.  Then she remembered she had to get back too.  It was starting to get light out, and she had to get ready for school.  She'd try to talk to the fish another day.  Suddenly, it seemed there was a lot to do.  She had to find out what the Baba Yaga had warned them about, and what she was supposed to do.  So far, nothing seemed to be that helpful.  Talking to a rose and the Little Prince and Pinocchio just didn't seem like the way to solve a world crisis.  But then again, who was she to imagine she could do anything to save the world anyway.
    She stared at the fish as they came in from all directions.  Some came through the wall, some down the hall.  The hovered above the water briefly and then dove in.  One of them, a large female guppy swerved from her path and hovered in front of Tammy.  "You are needed," She spoke, not aloud, but into Tammy's mind.  "You are necessary and important.  We all are."
    The sun peeked up over the edge of the earth in a crack between two houses and shone through the window.  The guppy wavered and started loosing altitude.  Tammy quickly put a hand under the fish and eased it toward the tank.  "Thanks," the fish said as it slid gratefully into the water.
    "Oboy," Tammy said, as she intended herself home.  "Now I am talking to fish.  Next I'll be stuck in a looney bin."
    "What did you say, honey?" her mother asked, as she walked by her open bedroom door.
    "Nothing, Mom, I was just dreaming."
    "I thought your said something about talking fish and going to a looney bin."
    "You've got a pretty vivid imagination, sweetheart," Dad said, walking down the hall the other way.  He leaned down and kissed his wife on the mouth.  "Have a good day," he called, as he quietly let himself out the garage door.
    "Want an omelet, Tam?"
    "Sure, Mom."  Tammy sat up in bed rubbing her eyes.  She felt as if she'd been awake all night, but was amazingly rested anyway.  Weird.
    "Want a ride to school?  I'm going over to take Grandma to the doctor.  I took the morning off from work."
    "That'd be great, Mom.  Say, Mom, could you please pick of the Little Prince book for me.  It's the third book over and the third shelf int he bookcase in Grandma's playroom.  Is Grandma okay?"
    "Little prince, third book on the third shelf--boy you sure have a good memory.  She's fine.  Just a test that requires her to have a driver.  Eyedrops is all.
    "Phew!  I was worried for a sec."
    "Nothing to worry about," Mom reassured her.
    Except some world crisis, Tammy thought, and a soul-eating witchy woman in a house with a chicken leg.
    "Did you say something?" Mom said, poking her head back in the door.
    "Not a word."
    "Hmmm.  Thought I heard something about world crisis and witchy women."
    Weird.  Tammy would have sworn she had been utterly silent.
    "What's that rock on your dresser.  It looks strange.  Kind of metallic, like an asteroid."
    Tammy picked it up.  It was small, angular, and amazingly heavy.  "Something I need to take to Mr. Sorenson,"  Tammy said.

Waking Up, Spies in the Land of Dreams; Chapter 5: The Underground Sun and a Trip to the Moon

Chapter 5:  The Underground Sun and a Trip to the Moon

    Tammy was wandering in the dark, wandering for hours.  She knew she was supposed to be somewhere, and it was important, urgent maybe.  She had to remember what it was.  She had to think.  There was something in her hands, and she looked down.  She was clutching a paper rose in her hand.  Her hands looked so--real--so there, so alive.  A paper rose.  Matt, midnight.  She looked at her watch.  11:55.  She was wide awake.  She looked around.  She was in some dark alley.  But she had to get toFarnsworth Chapel in five minutes.  She ran to the end of the alley.  There was a long hill with a trail leading up, and trees on either side of the trail.  It was the path up toFarnsworth Chapel.  She headed up it.  The trees seemed fluid and their shadows long and dim and eerie.  She ran up the hill.  The light was oddly green,a greenish yellow, like the light before a really bad thunderstorm.
    At the top of the hill, she could see the chapel.  Behind it was a weird black sky.  It looked like the beginning of a very scary movie.  Or the cover of a very scary book.  She slowed down and walked toward the gate.  No one was there.  No Matt.  She slowed down and looked at her watch.  Eleven fifty-nine and fifty-nine second.  Poof, there was Matt at the stroke of midnight.  A shiver ran down Tammy's spine. 
    Matt waved.  He smiled.  "Hi Tammy!"  Suddenly, it was much brighter.  Almost like daylight.  The light was still greenish, but only faintly so.
    "Why's the light so green?" Tammy asked Matt.  "Hi," she added, as an afterthought.  He looked completely normal.  Not scary at all.
    "I call it the 'Underground Sun.'"  Matt said.
    "But Farnsworth Chapel isn't underground, it's on the top of a hill."
    "It's a reference to the underworld.  Hades and Persephone.  It's an analogy for dreams."
    "My dreams don't usually look this way, they just look normal--either dark for chasing dreams, or bright (blue maybe), for falling dreams."
    "That's why I say there is more than one dream world.  They're all layered together and you can move freely between them.  This is the Hades Underground, this world."
    Tammy looked down at her hands.  It gave her another shiver.  The paper rose was gone.  "Hey, my rose is gone!  It helped me find you, and now it's gone."
    "When you get home, you'll find it where you left it, and it will be useful next time, too."
    "I hate the way you say, 'quote unquote real world.' Can we just call it 'Solland' [SOHL-land] and Greenland?  I know not all dreams are green, but we can agree that that term will apply to the land of dreams, with Mearddth being one of the worlds of the Universe of Greenland.  Solland is just one of the worlds of the other world, but since we are unlikely to leave Earth in our quote unquote real life, Solland is all the land we will normally need to refer to and we can essentially use it to refer to the quote unquote real world from now on.  Just to make it easier."
    "Okay, I guess, but it is sort of confusing, because Solland sounds like SOUL-LAND and SOUL-Land is closer to Dreamland.  And Greenland sounds like a county in Solland."
    "You got a better idea?"
    Matt said he didn't and Tammy said they weren't likely to be referring to Greenland in their personal conversation, so in spite of the difficulties, they settled on Solland for their their linear waking or "real" world and Greenland for the dream Universe. 
    "We night not be able to leave earth from Solland any time soon," Matt said.  But we can go from anywhere in Greenland to Sol's universe and look around."  Tammy was dubious, so Matt said he'd show her.  "Let's go to the Moon, first," he said.  "Intention," he repeated.  "Hold hands so we won't get separated."
    "WOW!  Look, there's the earth,"  Tammy said, pointing.  The sky was black.  "There's no air, how are we breathing?"     
    "Our Sol bodies are home in bed breathing Solland air.  Our dream bodies don't need air."
    "Oh yeah."  They wandered around.  It was as bright as day, though there was still a green tinge to the light. The ground just looked like dirt.  Tammy leaned over and touched it.  It felt like a mixture of gritty sand and dirt.  There were rocks too.  She picked one up and looked at it.  It was angular and slightly bronze colored.  She slipped it in her pocket. 
    There were craters of all sizes overlapping each other.  And hills.  They walked up the nearest hill.  They could see the curve of the moon falling away on all sides. The sky was black and full of stars, the blue earth a ball on the sky like a large blue moon. 
    "A waxing gibbous earth," Tammy said, dreamily, imitating Laina.  "A good sign."  Mr. Sorenson had recently talked about phases of the moon and how they were lit by the sun.  Laina, a girl who called herself a white witch, had dreamily instructed them on the Wiccan meanings of the moon.  Tammy thought she remembered her saying that waxing moons were good luck, for growth and healing, whereas waning moons were good for losing weight and getting rid of bad habits.  But not as 'propitious,' Laina had said, for starting new relationships or new ventures.  Oddly, Mr. Sorenson had smiled tolerantly, and let her ramble.  At the time, Tammy had thought that it was strange for a science teacher to let someone be so unscientific in class.  Hmmmm . . .  Tammy didn't believe in astrology or any of that other weird nonscientific stuff in Solland, but here in Greenland, it might have some function.  Maybe.
    "What does 'propitious' mean," Tammy asked Matt.  "Does it mean 'lucky?'"
    "Dunno," said Matt.  We need a dictionary."  One appeared in his hands and he opened it to p and handed it to Tammy.
    She read aloud, "One, presenting favorable conditions; favorable propitious weather: two, indicative of favor, auspicious: propitious omens; three favorably inclined; disposed to bestow favors or forgive:  propitious gods."  She turned to a.  "Auspicious, promising success, favored by fortune.  I think that waxing gibbous earth is propitious for an auspicious adventure saving the world.  We'll be successful."  She laughed.  "Too bad we don't know what the problem is or what we have to do."
    "We'll find out," Matt said.  "Soon."

    "Just think," he said, with a wave of his hand out toward the entire universe, "all this is underground."
    "And all this light," Tammy said, sweeping her arm over the brilliantly lit surface of the moon, "is inside the darkness of our sleep.  Such luminance to be inside the darkness."  Then, in a totally different tone of voice, like a little girl, she said, "do you think we could go to the Little Prince's asteroid?  I want to see if he made it safely home to his Rose."
    "The Little Prince's Asteroid?"
    "It's probably in a different layer, a different dreamworld.  But if we could come here, couldn't we go there too?  I know if probably has nothing to do with our mission, but just a quick side trip?  Five minutes?  Would that be okay?"
    "Uh, are you talking about that book by what's his name, St. something or other--didn't he have an airplane and get lost at sea?"
    "Antoine St. Exupery!  'On ne voit bein qu'avec le couer.  L'essentials est invisble pour les yeux.'" {check this for spelling etc.}  It's the best book!  Did you read it?  My parents read it to me when I was younger, and then we read it in French, with Mde Gouet." (Use another name?)
    "I'm a year behind you in French, remember, because I didn't take AP French in 6th grade.  I was afraid it would too hard.  My parents wanted me to take it, but I thought they were just ebing mean and stupid.  I took Life Skills instead.  Let me see.  Say that French phrase again.  Let me see if I can figure it out."
    "'On ne voit bein qu'avec le couer.  L'essentials est invisble pour les yeux.'"  {Check this!}
    "One sees well only with the . . .  the heart?  The essentials are invisible for the eyes?"
    "Yup, that's it.  Hey--if we can produce a dictionary and read it, can we produce 'Le Petite Prince?'  Or "The Little Prince," maybe would be better.  Quicker and easier for us since our language skills aren't that great."
    "Language skills are better in dreams, but try for the Little Prince.  Intend for it to be in your hands."
    And there it was, The Little Prince, in Tammy's hands.  "I don't get how you can look up a word in a dream that you don't know the meaning of and find out what it is.  If you don't know it, how does the sleeping brain find the information if it doesn't have it?"
    "Maybe you really do know it.  Or maybe you're tapping into the collective unconscious.  Or maybe you are able to actually do dream detective work, somehow.  Or all of the above.  Or something else.  I don't really know."
    "I thought you knew everything.  Lol!  OK," she said, flipping open the book, "I want to show you the Little Prince's Asteroid.  And then, I want you to read this book, especially the part about the fox, and about looking out the train windows, and . . . well just read it all.  I mean later, at home.  Do read it, please?  And let me know if you like it.  Here, look, here he is on his asteroid, and here's his rose."
    "Okay, let's go there, now."

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 6:  What the Rose Said

Waking Up, Spies in the Land of Dreams

Chapter 4:  Danger

    "Yeah, about that.  Let's talk about the danger first.  There is danger in the dream worlds and danger in the quote unquote real world.  They're related."
    "What do you mean, 'the quote unquote real world?'  The real world world is real and dreams are just the imagination, right?  The sleeping and confused imagination?  Fun, interesting, scary. Confusing.  Perhaps enlightening, but not real.  Right?"
    "Right.  And wrong."
    "Okay, I'm confused.  And we haven't even gotten to the part about danger and the Baba Yaga's message."
    "Well, when you are dreaming, your physical body stays home in bed, right?"
    "Or where you've left it when you go to sleep."
    "Assuming you left your body in a safe place, and no place is 100% safe, but that's a separate issue, assuming you body is safe, the first danger is to your mind, emotions and soul and their relationship to the body.  The Baba Yaga is essentially a figment of your imagination--or ours.  She is, in a sense, a creation of the the collective unconscious or the minds of all of men.  But, while she may not be real in the phenomenal, consensual or the quote unquote real world, she is very real to the subconscious mind or dreaming mind.  And while she cannot eat your physical body,she can eat your dream body, and by doing so, she could sever the connection between your mind and your body."
    "Good grief, Matt, you sound like a teacher, the annoying kind that uses too many big words."
    "I'm not sure of another way to say it.  If I am not careful how I say it, you might misunderstand me."
    "You're saying that the Baba Yaga could make me crazy."
    "Yes, or even kill you, in the quote unquote real world."
    "Will you quit calling it "the quote unquote real world.  You would be really dead."
    "If I call it the 'real world,' that implies dreams aren't real.  But of course they are real.  They exist in their own way and they affect us.  Now, to continue about danger, I just need to warn you that the dream world is connected to the quote unquote real world, as I am sure you know.  Suppose we were dream spies and decided to spy and Miss Wingsley?  Suppose we went into her dreams, the way I entered your dream, to look around and see why she always acts like she has a corncob up her butt.  Maybe there is one, in her dreams, and we want to yank it out of her dream butt so she won't be so . . . "
    "What the flip, Matt, you're being really rude," Tammy said, looking around to see if anyone was listening.  "What if Ms. Window has this place bugged?  Maybe she's a friend of Miss Wingsley and will tell her and then we'll be up the creek without a paddle."
    "That was what I was sort of getting around to, in a way, but I guess I was being a little crude.  Miss Wingley bugs me, sorry.  OK, for the sake of illustration only, let's just say that Miss Wingsley was a spy for, mmm, the Al Qaeda."
    "Yeah, that's almost about to happen . . . "
    "I said for the sake of illustration, I'm trying to communicate somethign to you here."
    "Okay, okay, continue."
    "All right, now suppose that we had reason to be suspicious of her, because she was such a . . . a . . . a grouch.  And we decided to spy on her dreams to see if she's got Al Qaeda connections.  And suppose we discovered she did, but we were spotted spying on her in her dreams by the Al Qaeda henchmen.  What do you suppose they would do to use in quote unquote real life--in the phenomenal world--if they could find us?"
    "Kill us for real."
    "You bet!"
    "But I am just a teenage kid.  I'm not a threat to Al-Qaeda or anyone else."
    "Not yet, you're not.  Were you listening to what Baba Yaga said?"
    "Yeah, I heard her.  I didn't understand her, but I heard what she said.  And I have a pretty good memory, I think.  She said, and I quote, 'Since there are two of you, and since each of you has passed a test of sorts, I will give you two answers.  Three, really.  What you need to know is that your Maya world is at a turning point and if it is not turned back, there will be no turning back and all will be lost.  What you need to do is continue as you are, for the path before you is the answer to saving the world.  And finally, If you don't leave immediately, I will eat you anyway.  And next time, I may eat you without warning.'"
    "Wow!  You really do have a good memory!  Criminey!"
    "I was confused by what she said.  She said Maya world.  I thought Maya meant illusion and I looked it up, and it does, in Sanskrit.  But she seemed to be talking about the real world."
    "Many people believe that what we call the quote unquote real world is simply illusion, or another dream.  And since she lives in the dream world, it's not surprising she considers what we call the real world to be illusion."
    "You seem like you're talking in circles, but OK, she means that the real everyday world is in trouble of some kind.  It's at a turning point, and if we keep going this way, whatever that means, we'll discover a way to save the world.  Which way are we going and who's we?"
    "Where were we going when we met her?"
    "Into the dream world.  We were exploring."
    "The imaginal or dream world, right, so whatever we were doing then we need to do more of.  It will lead us to an answer.  She was talking to us, you and me.  We have to save the world.  It is our task."
    "We, you and me, save the world?  Yeah right.  We're nobody.  We're two wimpy bookish teenage kids in some  backwater town in the middle of nowhere, and we are going to save the world when all the grownups and think tanks and presidents and college professors have failed.  I probably couldn't fight my way out of a bowl of spaghetti, and you want me to fight Al Qaeda?"
    "Yup.  More than Al Qaeda, though, that's just the tip of the iceberg."
    "You're completely crazy."
    "So can we count you in?"
    "We, who's we?"
    "Me and Ms Window and Mr. Beakley and Mr. Sorenson and Mr. Allen . . . "
    "Mr Allen too?  I suppose Social Studies and History would be relevant here.  Yup, I can see that.  But not Miss Wingsley?"
    "I think she's gone over to the dark side."
    "You're getting carried away, Matt."
    "So will you?"
    "Do I have a choice?"
    "You always have a choice."
    "As long as I can back down later, sure.  Why not.  Now I gotta go.  If I'm not there at 6, I'll get grounded."
    "Walk you home?"
    "No, it'd be better if you didn't, seriously.  My folks might not understand."
    "OK, I'll just walk you half-way.  But we've got a date?"
    "A date?"
    "For more lessons tonight.  Meet me at the stroke of midnight at the Farnsworth Chapel."
    "My curfew is at 10:30."
    "In your dreambody, silly."
    "In your dreams!"
    "Yeah, that's it!  Really."
    "How do I do that?  I'm gonna be late."
    "Intention.  You have to intend to.  Before you sleep.  Out this under your pillow, it will help you remember," Matt handed her a paper rose.  It was the kind handed out by some organization looking for donations.  "Take it with you into your dreams, look for it.  Bye.  See you at Midnight."

A Handful of Money

A Handful of Money

I am at some sort of conference on scientific topics with workshops, movies etc.  We discover in a back room that was not announced where I or anyone else heard it some food which is very poorly organized and mostly stuff I can't eat.  There are baked beans and bean salads etc, but I find a box with some sandwich meat and bread that wasn't put out on the plates because there hadn't been room (meanwhile, what was put out is gone) and am able to make myself a sandwich (but with a white bread roll).  I am with Keith, and have already participated in a number of activities and programs.  There is a program tonight, and it comes free with something else, but not with the program I paid for.  Keith and I are in another small building now, trying to make some other arrangements when I see a display tray of tickets and cards and metal buttons for the various events and no one is there guarding it.  Several other people help themselves to tickets.  I pick up a card that is good for several events, but that feels wrong to me, and I put it back.  I am about to approach one of the workers at another table and explain that I was supposed to get a free program with another program I attended when I realize I have already had my free program last night.  So I got to Keith and tell him I want to attend tonight's program and he gives me some money.  I am headed over to buy the ticket legally (morally) when I wake up. 

I can still feel the money in my hand when I wake up and have to rub my fingers together to double check that there is not actually any money in my hands.  I am very relieved when I wake up that I did not steal the tickets card.  I don't want to be dishonest, but then it occurs to me that there are still other ways that I am.  This makes me feel heavy and sad.

Chapter 3: Persephone's, in Waking Up, Spies in the Land of Dreams

Chapter 3:  Persephone's

    "Are you allowed to go out for coffee or tea or something?" Matt asked.  "We need to talk.
    "As long as my grades are good, yeah.  Otherwise I'm grounded.  That's why it's really important to do well in Math and not get on Miss Weinhart's bad side.  But I have to be home for dinner at six, and that doesn't give us much time."
    "Persephone's is right around the corner--ever been there?"  Tammy shook her head.  "I know most kids prefer lattes at Starbucks, but I think you'll like Persephone's."
    Persephone's was down a dark, narrow twisting stairway under the Rite-Aid.  They had to step over a homeless guy who was stretched out in the bushes next to the stairwell with his huge feet in black boots in the center of the path.  He was clutching a brown paper bag with a bottle in it.  The paper was tight around the bottle, so Tammy could see the shape of it.  His eyes were closed and his eyelids were flickering furiously.  There was a small sign on the concrete at the top, under the Rite-Aid sign, partially obscured by some yews with bright red berries, and a larger sign over the door downstairs that was not visible from the street level. No wonder Tammy had never noticed the place!  Both signs showed a beautiful woman with long flowing wavy hair holding a pomegranate.  Tammy recognized it right away, because they'd had pomegranates at Christmas every year since she was a small child.  Her grandmother had taught her to eat them.
    Inside, Persephone's was the antithesis of Starbucks.  It was dimly lit with small, flickering orangish lights on the walls that looked like torches.  The walls looked as if they were made with blocks of marble.  There were fireplaces around the perimeter of the room and one in the center with small fires flickering merrily.  Old, well-worn couches and chairs sprawled aimlessly around the room.  Flimsy wooden folding chairs were drawn around tables where various games were set up.  And there was art.  Large oil portraits filled the walls, as well as other kinds of paintings and sculptures.  Something seemed very familiar about the art.  Tammy wanted to examine them all, but Matt guided her to a small table in a dark corner.  It had what appeared to be a game board, but it was a game Tammy didn't recognize.
    The had barely taken their seat when a woman emerged from behind a curtain.  Tammy gasped.  It was Ms. Window, her art teacher.  No wonder the art looked familiar!  Tammy had seen some similar but smaller pieces and some pencil sketches of the subjects of the large works in the classroom.
    "Two pomegranate grenadines and six seeds each," said Matt.
    "Ah," sighed Ms. Window, with a farawy look in her eyes, "Dreamers.  Congratulations."
    After she had wandered off and disappeared again behind the curtain, Tammy asked what she had meant and how she had known.
    "The grenadine of course.  Pomegranates are the fruit of the underworld, or the subsconscious, or the dreamworld.  Sephee is another dream guide."
    "Her name is Persephone.  This is her place.  Who runs it during school?"
    "No one.  It's only open after school, Saturdays, Sunday afternoons, and evenings.  Whenever she has a class or doctor's appointment or something, she puts a sign up.  People can still come in, she never locks the door, but they have to get their food and drinks out of the vending machines behind that curtain," Matt said, pointing to another curtain in a dark corner far across the room.
    "And no one robs the place?"
    "Why would they?  Besides, one of the bicycle beat cops, Ares, is her brother. He keeps a close eye on it, as do all his other friends.  And Mort, the homeless guy at the top of the stairs.  He sleeps on that couch at night,"  Matt said, pointing again.
    "Ares?  Persephone?  Those are mythological names.  Are they their real names?"
    "Dunno for sure, but Their mother's name is Demeter.  She's from Greece."
    "Wait a minute, Greece, Rome . . . "  Ms. Window came back out with a small red tray.  It had two tall red glasses and two tiny red plates.  On each plate were six red seeds.  She set the glasses and plates in front of Matt and Tammy, and then withdrew a little package from her pocket and set it between them.   She bowed slightly and withdrew.
    "The fortune cookie," Matt said.  "You open it."
    Tammy unwrapped the package.   It was too flat to be a  Chinese fortune cookie.  But it was a cookie, and oatmeal raisin cookie.  Tammy looked puzzled.
    "Break it in half," Matt said.
    Inside was a small piece of folded aluminum foil and inside that, a tiny note.  Tammy held it close to her face and read, "'Listen to the Baba Yaga. The world needs your help.'  Well, I didn't understand what the Baba Yaga said, so how can I listen?  And how did Ms. Window know?"
    "That's one of several things we need to talk about," Matt said.  "As far as Ms. Window, she's a seer.  A seer is a SEE-er.  She sees things.  She's also a dream spy.  I think we need to be as well."
    "A dream spy?  That sounds interesting, scary and dangerous."
    "All of the above and more.  Danger is another thing we have to talk about.  The danger is real.  You need to know that."
    "You'd better explain."
    "Ok, I will."  He took a sip of his grenadine and Tammy did the same.  It tasted great, sweet and fruity.  He gathered his six seeds and chewed them gently, closing his eyes and savoring them.  Tammy followed suit.  At least she knew how to eat pomegranates.  Only normally, she ate a quarter of the pomegranate at a time, or even half. 
    "Why six seeds?  Why not more?"
    "It's a ritual and a message.  Six, so we can go in and out, and return safely.  Later we can eat more, if you'd like.  If we ask for more, it will come on a yellow plate to counteract the red.  Red for the underworld, yellow for the above world."
    "So, danger, and the Baba Yaga?"

--
I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats
Mary

080128 free bird, weighing

080128 free bird, weighing

1)Rocky the cockateil is flying free and I am so happy.  He is free in the new house I purchased, which is full of boxes.  (It is a house like the green one I wanted to buy, maybe the same one, maybe not.)  I love the fact that Rocky can fly free and be him or her self.

2)Keith and I are on a trip.  We stop at a roadside pull over where there are very fancy bathrooms on wheels.  Before we start out to do what we are doing next, Keith says he wants to use the restroom and get weighed.  I hadn't thought of that, but I decide to do it too, and I go in, use the bathroom, undress, and weigh myself.  For some reason, I leave the bathroom naked with with all my clothes and belongings inside and someone else goes in and I can't leave to rejoin Keith until I get dressed.  I've forgotten what I weighed and want to reweigh myself first.  It starts turning into an upsetting ordeal because a woman with children is in where my clothes are and I can't get them because it is taking them so long.

And then I woke up, Chapter 2: Detention

Chapter 2:  Detention

    "Matt, check this one out," Tammy hissed across the table. 
    Matt was standing up with his head twisted funny counting quietly to himself.  "Wait a minute," he said, "I'm right in the middle of something, here, try this and then I'll see what you found."  Tammy stood up and camer around the table.  Matt didn't look at her.  "Stare at this picture and count slowly to 60 and then stare at the white page next to it."  The picture was of a green, orange and black flag.  She started counting and staring, staring and counting.  "Oh, WOW!"  Matt breathed, "that's cool!"
    "I knew that's what would happen," Tammy said, after she finished her couldn't, I could tell becaese the colors were exactly opposite.  Of course it would be red white and blue, what else would it be?  But it it very cool.  I can still see it on the wall and on the table."
    "Do you know why it happens?"
    "Your eyeballs get tired of looking at orange, green and black?"
    "That's pretty much it--you use up all the chemicals needed to see those colors so when you stop looking, you see the opposite.  It's pretty cool."
    "It sure is, now check this one out."  Matt came over and looked into Tammy's book. 
    "Oh, cool, it's one of those magic eye things."
    "Yeah, but check it out, dude, it's not just any magic eye.  This is really fun!"
    "I thought you said detention was not your ideas of fun!  Sometimes I'm kinda slow at this."
    "I usually get them right away.  Hey, I didn't know Mr. Sorensen and Mr. Beakley would give us such a fun project--and extra credit in both science and English.  I didn't know what to expect.  I've never been to detention before.  Keep trying, this is the best one I've ever seen."
    "Never been to detention?  That's because you're such a goody-goody."
    "Am not!"
    "Are, too!  Oh!  I got it.  It's a mandala, a mandala within a mandala.  I think it's a portal.  Maybe we can use it to travel."
    "How?"
    Matt looked at his watch.  Okay, we've got half an hour.  First we need to prop the book up.  OK, ready, hold my hand."
    "Here, in the library?  We'll get in trouble."
    "Just do it."  He snatched her hand.  "OK, now we both unfocus and stare at it until it's in focus.  Find the mandala and stare at the center.  It's a portal, works sort of like a black hole, only gentler.  I'm not sure where we're going to come out, so we should remember to look and see where the portal is on the other end.  It may not even go Mearddth, and some of the other worlds having shifting topography.  Even Mearddth does, sometimes.  Oh, he said, here we are.  It's a flower on this end, and it looks like all the other flowers.  The others may be portals too, but may not take us back to the library."
    "Here, tie this ribbon around it carefully," Tammy said, pulling it out of her hair.  Sheep and goats grazed on the far side of the field.  "I hope none of them eats our portal," Tammy said, nervously, pointing.  "Maybe we should just go back.  We're going to get lost, or get in trouble."
    "Nah," Matt said, "Portals are just other entries into the dreamworld.  Our bodies are back in the library staring at the book and if we don't show up, Sorensen or Beakley will just shake us gently and we'll wake up.  We may be a little disoriented, but it'll be fine."
    The funnel-shaped flower with the deep purple center stood about ten feet from a tall pine.  Beyond the pine, the ground sloped away to a meadow, and in the meadow was a small cabin.  It looked deserted.  "Let's go down there," Matt said, taking off at a run through the field.  He lifted from the ground and began to fly, faster and faster, until he hovered right above the cabin.  Laughing, Tammy followed him, leaping into the air and flying.  It was such a rush of excitement to fly like that.  She wanted to just fly and fly, over the hills and the distant peaks.  Vaguely, she remembered that they had to go back.  Besides, Matt seemed intent on something else.  "Come here," he said, settling to the ground in front of the cabin.  I want to show you something."  With that, he stepped right through the cabin wall and disappeared.  A moment later, he reappeared, coming through the wall in another place, as if it were made out of standing water, only he wasn't wet.
    Tammy walked up to the cabin wall and knocked on it hard.  It was solid as a newly peeled log.  Rock hard.  She knocked again.  "Yes?" a voice said, a high girlish voice that sounded like an old woman pretending to be a girl.  "Who is it?"
    "Uh, it's me, Tammy  Wilson,  and Matt Martin is here, too.  Who are you?  Where are you?"
    "I'm in here of course.  Come on in, but don't let the cat out."  Matt walked back through the wall.  Tammy went and opened the front door and stuck her foot in front of a cat that was trying to escape.  The cat bit her foot and then leaped over it.  Tammy grabbed it by the scruff of the neck.  It hissed and spit and suddenly got huge.  Tammy managed to slam the door with the cat inside.  The cat almost filled the entire room.  And it was not happy.  Its eyes were a malevolent red and its teeth were needle sharp and it was looking hungrily at Tammy.
    It looked like it was now too big to get out the door.  Tammy put her hand on the knob and carefully turned it. She zipped out and slammed the door.  But the car shrunk to the size of a mouse and slipped under the bottom.  Tammy snatched it and opened the door and went back in.  An old lady sat in a rocker by the fire.  She deposited the cat, now normal-sized, in her lap and sat down in another rocker by the fire.  The cat leaped over, curled up in her lap and started purring.  Tammy tentatively petted it.  The purring grew to the size of a lion's roar. 
    "I'm not sure I like this world," Tammy said.  "It's too scary and unpredictable."
    Matt was rocking in the chair beside her.  HE got up, and opened the curtain of the window beside the old woman.  "Feel anything?" he asked.  The whole house was shaking as if there were an earthquake or something. 
    She looked out the window.  Trees were bouncing past.  "The house is moving," she observed, feeling stupid as she spoke for stating the obvious.
    "Chicken leg," Matt said, "that's my guess.  I think we've just had the honor and privilege of stumbling into the lair of the Baba Yaga.  Madam," he continued, turned to address the old woman.  May I ask your name?"
    ""You may ask, but I may not answer.  You may beg, but I may not spare you.  First I will ask you a riddle.  If you answer correctly, I will spare your lives this time.  If not, I will eat you for dinner."  She rubbed her hands together.
    "What is your riddle, Madam?" asked Matt, calmly.
    "What walks on four legs and then on two legs and then on three?"
    "Oh, that's an easy one, Madam.  That's man, who crawls as a baby, walks on two legs and a man, and uses a cane as and old man.  Now I get to ask you a question.  What is the one thing that it is most important for us to know or do next?"
    "Since there are two of you, and since each of you has passed a test of sorts, I will give you two answers.  Three, really.  What you need to know is that your world is at a turning point and if it is not turned back, there will be no turning back and all will be lost.  What you need to do is continue as you are, for the path before you is the answer to saving the world.  And finally, If you don't leave immediately, I will eat you anyway.  And next time, I may eat you without warning."
    Matt got up and calmly walked through the wall beside his chair.  Tammy got up, set the cat on the Baba Yaga's lap and calmly walked into the wall and fell to the floor.  She got up, and tried again and fell to the floor again. 
    "It's like swimming," the Baba Yaga said, kindly.  You know you can dive into the water and it will open to let you through.  It is only your preconception that keeps you inside."  She picked up a very large fork, dropped the cat to the floor and walked toward Tammy cackling madly.
    "Water," Tammy thought.  "It's just like water."  She squeezed through, but it didn't feel like water.  It was more like disintegrating and reintegrating, like grinding through sand with all her molecules.  Not that she knew what that felt like, really, but that's what she imagined.
    The cat squeezed through after her, its claws unsheathed and it's mouth open.  Saliva dripped from its tongue.  And the house hopped after her on one huge yellow scaly chicken leg. 
    "Fly," screamed Matt, "fly!"
    Tammy flew.  Matt flew beside her.  The cat flew too, but after a little ways, it turned and flew back to the house and walked through the walls.
    "We're not where we started, how will we find our way back?"
    "There's the tree with the ribbon, way over there."
    "We didn't tie the ribbon on the tree.  We tied it on the flower."
    "I know, but the mid is a very strange place.  Let's go check it out."
    In an instant, they were there.  "How'd we get here so fast?" Tammy asked.
    "Intention."  In Mearddth, you don't really haev to walk or fly, you just arrive where you want to be.  See, here's the flower, come on, let's go."  In an isntant, he was gone. 
    "Intention," Tammy repeated herself.  And there she was, sitting on the seat staring at the magic eye mandala portal picture.  The clock said the same time as when they'd left.
    "Did you intend that, too?" Tammy asked, pointing at the clock.  "Of course.  We need the extra credits in Science and English to help bring up the zero Miss Wingsley is going to give us in Math today.  So quick, we've got a half hour, do you want to type or dictate?"
    "Let's take turns, 15 minutes each.  But one thing, first.  Can you die in a dream?"
    "Well, yeah, actually you can," Matt said, somewhat sheepishly.  "I'll tell you about it later."

"You know what I hate, Tammy whispere...

Prologue:  "It was all a Dream"

    "You know what I hate?" Tammy whispered across the library table to Matt, "I hate it when you get to the end of the book and it says, 'and then they woke up and it was all a dream.  That's so stupid."
    "I know it," Matt agreed.  "It ruins the whole book.  Why do they do that?"
    "I hate it when people tell me their dreams, too," Tammy said, with a faraway look in her eye, "They are so rambling and long and pointless."
    "Okay, I'll remember not to tell you my dreams,"  Matt said.
    "My dreams are pretty stupid.  I'm either being chased through a long dark alley or falling through the sky.  I always wake up just before i hit."
    "I can't tell you this, but I just fly.  I love to fly, it's so much fun.  But I won't tell you about my dreams, because you think they're boring.  Only mine aren't.  They are wonderful  They are like continuing stories.  Always an adventure.  And I'm magic."
    "Magic.  I don't believe in magic."
    "I don't believe in magic either.  Not in real life.  But dreams are dreams, they're not exactly real in the ordinary way.  You can be magic in dreams, why not?  You can do anything in a dream if you want to."
    "Anything?"
    "Sure, why not?"
    "Well, for one thing, I don't control my dreams.  They just happen."
    "I let mine happen too, most of the time.  It's more interesting and fun that way.  But I pay attention, and any time I need to or want to, I can take charge and shape the dream."
    "You're full of bull dunky," Tammy said, a little too loudly.
    Mrs. Weinhart looked over her half glasses and frowned.  She was pretty lenient most of the time, as long as kids didn't get carried away.  Tammy poked her head back into her book, but Matt gave her a little kick.  "I'll show you," he whispered extra quietly, "I'll take you to Mearddth."
    "Mearddth?  Is that like laughter?"
    "LOL.  Sometimes!  No, it's a dream world, one of many.  It's my favorite one.  I'll come get you tonight.  Wherever you are, I'll find you and show you.  If it's okay, only if it's okay."
    "Well, I don't believe you a bit.  I think you're teasing me.  But if you can really take me someplace fun, that would be better than my stupid dreams.  And then, we'll write a story about it."
    "Yeah, and at the end, we'll say, 'and then they woke up, and it was just a dream.'  All the kids will hate us."
    "But it will be okay, because it was true."  Tammy laughed out loud."  Mrs. Weinhart looked over her glasses and down her nose at Tammy, who pretended to be reading her book.  And then really was reading her book, until the bell rang.  Matt winked at her.

1.  The Thugs

    Tammy was running down a dark alley.  She was out of breath, her legs hurt, and the two men chasing her were gaining on her.  She tried to run faster but couldn't.  On and on she ran, scared, with no real hope of escaping.  She was close to tears.
    Suddenly, a boy dressed in a superhero suit jumped into the alley in front of her.  "Halt," he said, handing her a sword.
    "They've got guns, Matt," she said.  "You can't sue a sword against guns."
    "Sure you can," Matt said.  "This one shoots rubber bullets.  They hurt, but they don't kill anyone."  He turned the sword sideways, sighted down lts length, and fired a couple or warning shots at the two thugs who had ducked behind a trash can."
    "A sword that shoots rubber bullets?  What are you nuts?"
    "Sure I'm nuts, hadn't you noticed that before?"  Matt strode toward the two men.  "Who are you guys?  Stand up and tell us who you are."
    The two men stood up and stepped out from behind the trash can.  Tammy gasped, "Mr. Sorensen, Mr. Beakley, what are you doing here?  Why are you chasing me?  You've been chasing me for months.  I was really scared of you.  Why are you carrying guns?" 
    Mr Sorensen lifted his gun, pointed it directly at Matt, and pulled the trigger.  A stream of water hit Matt in the chest.  Matt fell on the ground kicking his feet and laughing.  Then he hopped back up.  "These are spirit guides," he said, pointing to the two teachers.  Science and English.  They help navigate the dream world.  You need good balance.  You need to know black holes.  And you need to understand poetry.  They've been trying to tell you how to dream."
    "Black holes?  POETRY? What are you talking about?"
    "Metaphor," said Mr. Beakley.  "Dreams are the ultimate metaphor.  Or, at least can be."
    "You guys aren't making any sense."
    "Who said we needed to make sense?" asked Mr. Sorensen.  "Do black holes make sense?  Do quarks?"
    "Look," said Mr. Beakly, pointing to a large puddle, an old Model T.
    Matt reached into the puddle and tugged on the car, pulling it out.  It was old, dilapidated, rusty and looked as if it would soon collapse into a heap of rubble.
    "Our ride to Mearddth," Matt said, "We're going to Mearddth, want to come?"
    "Nah, we've got other fish to fry right now.  We're going to see if we can catch some of your friends and if so, we'll bring them along later." said Mr. Sorensen.
    "I hope they aren't as slow--and fast--as you were, Tammy.  We were getting worried."
    "come on, Tammy, get in," Matt said.  "Let's get going,"
    Tammy looked skeptically at the old rust bucket, but it wasn't old any more, it was shiny and new and with fresh rubber on the tires and highly polished brass appointments.  It wasn't a Model T any more, but a --- .  She wasn't sure how she knew that, but decided not to worry about it.  She opened the door on smooth well-oiled hinges and sat down on plush leather seats.  Matt drove down through the alley, then pulled the gear shift hard toward him and the car took to the air.  "Wheee," Tammy shouted, looking down as the alley and city building fell away.  She was full of happiness and excitement, happier than she every felt before.  They were going on an adventure.  And it was fun.
    The city faded into the distance behind them and they flew for the simple joy of flying.  "We don't really need the car," Matt said, "that was just to give you confidence."  He dove out the door and flew along beside the car, which kept going.  "Come on out, the air is fine."  He took her by the hand and the car was gone.  They were flying.
    "This is just like Peter Pan," Tammy said.  The she looked down.  She immediately began to fall, plummeting toward the ground. 
    Matt tugged on her arm, "Fly!" he said.
    "I don't know how."  The ground hurtled closer. 
    "Come on, follow me."  she continued to fall.  He yanked a little folded piece of plastic out of his pocket and it inflated into a white life preserver.  He handed it to Tammy. 
    "Thanks," she said, floating skyward.  "Phew.  I was about to crash.  You saved me.  Again."
    "Again?"
    "Yeah, remember those thugs?"
    "Mr. Sorenson and Mr. Beakley?  They're our teachers, remember?"
    "Only after you came.  Before that, they were trying to kill me."
    "Not exactly.  Listen, you need to learn to fly.  It's an important skill.  But I guess I was stupid to try to teach you way up here."  They got back in the old car, which was suspended in space and had started to rust again and disintegrate.  Immediately, the rust started fading and the paint got shinier and blacker.  Matt drove it down to a grassy meadow full of wildflowers.  There were snow-covered mountains around the sides of the meadow.  A little stream wound through the meadow.
    "This place is totally perfect.  Almost perfect.  It'd be perfect if there was a little waterfall just there and a grove of trees just there."  As she pointed, a waterfall appeared, a thin cascade with a long drop at the bottom.  And beside it, a grove of baobabs.  "Perfect," she said.
    "OK, look, we're going to fly just one foot off the ground, float.  If you lose confidence, you can just drop down."
    "But how?"
    "Just step up.  You just have to know you can do it, and you can."  He held out his hand and she stepped into the air and floated.  They floated over the grass and through the baobabs.  The baobabs were full of monkeys who swung from branch to branch, following them.  One held out a banana at the top of a tree and Tammy floated up and took it.
    "Can I eat it?"  She asked.
    "Sure!  What does it taste like?"
    "Rainbows.  Sherbet.  Lemon meringue pie.  Like a symphony.  Here, try it."
    "Hmmm, pumpkin pie.  Chocolate milk.  hey, it tastes like a banana, only sweeter.  Don't look down." 
    Tammy immediately looked down.  They had drifted far above the baobabs, and Tammy began to fall toward their jagged branches.
    "Fly," Matt shouted, "Fly!  Float.  Let go, you can do it."  But Tammy continued to fall.  Matt flew below her and broke her fall with his arms, slowing her fall.  The monkeys gathered in the branches below her and caught her as she fell, passing her from one to the next.  Several of them tossed her into the air again.  "Fly!" shouted Matt, and she did.  She flew up and down and did a couple somersaults and loop-de-loops and back flips. 
    "I think I've got it!"
    "Good, is it fun?"
    "Yeah, it's fabulous, never anything funner ever!  Wheeeee!"
    Matt flew along beside her.  "Remember what this feels like.  Remember how fun it is.  Remember how easy it is.  One of the difficult things about Mearddth is remembering.  It's hard to remember.  You have to pay attention."
    "Yahoo, whooopeee!" shouted Tammy.  "How could I forget this?  It's the opposite of falling.  Falling is scary and horrible.  Flying is exhilarating and fun.  Yahooooooooo!"

    "I thought you said dreams were boring and you didn't want to hear about them," Matt whispered to Tammy during Math.  Miss. Wingsley was writing some algebraic formulas on the board.  She had her back to them.
    "I just asked what you dreamed last night.  I was wondering if you had the same dream I had."
    "About the flying car and the monkeys that tossed you out of the baobab?"
    "Yeah, that one, was it real?"
    "Real, what's real?  Whadddya mean?"
    "I mean did you and I really have the same dream about flying and stuff."
    "I dreamed about you.  And a field with mountains and a waterfall.  Did you dream about me?"
    "Yeah, I think you were wearing a superman suit, at least in the beginning."  When Tammy said the word "Superman," her voice squeaked incredulously and Miss Wingsley spun and winged her in the head with an eraser. 
    "No talking--or squeaking--in class, Miss Wilson," she said to Tammy, as Tammy rubbed the spot on her head where the eraser had hit.   She was coughing in a cloud of chalk dust.
    "Yes Miss Wingsley, I'm sorry Miss Wingsley," Tammy said automatically. 
    "Another peep out of you and you're going down to the office.  Mr. Martin too."
    Miss Wingsley turned her back and began writing on the board again.  "If Two a plus three b plus 4 c equals y, and y equals 2x divided by n, and n equals a plus b plus c and x equals . . . "
    "Peep!" Matt said is a high squeaky voice.

    "Matt!" Tammy said, "we're gonna get detention now!"
    "It's our ticket out of there," Matt said.  "And besides, Sorenson and Beakley run detention.  We might learn something.  Come on, it'll be fun."
    "Detention is not my idea of fun."

Breast Reduction

I dreamed I had breast reduction surgery and my breasts turned out small and pert like a young girl's, like mine were when I was 12 and a half.  (Probably caused by the report of Heidi's surgery.)

LOST: Radiation without Protection

LOST: Radiation without Protection

I am driving on my way to have radiation treatment for some condition I have. The radiation treatment is very narrow and specific, and the rest of me is going to be carefully protected with lead sheeting. I am driving in the countryside, out in farmlands and open fields, and cannot find the right turns. I end up driving into a cave, pushing my way through thick billows of plastic ballooning into the inner recesses of a cave where there is a radiation clinic, but it is the wrong one. They prepare me for treatment anyway, and I am sitting beside two men who are having treatment in their boxers--I'm in a gown. no lead sheeting is being used and the treatment seems generalized and the two men are sitting side by side. They keep getting surge after surge after surge of treatment. I am very frightened and go back and ask the nurse why no lead sheeting is being used. She says this is pert of the synergistic affects of their treatment. I want to escape, but I don't know where the woman has put my clothes. I am determined to escape, but feel as if I am held hostage. There is some flurry of confused activity and I seem to be escaping. I think I am driving away . . . but I wake up before any of this last part seems clear.

I think this dream is about my fears of having dental radiation and my desire to "escape" from doctor Jennings who wants to radiate me. Since Radiation might cause further growth of my tumor or more tumors, I don't want to risk it. There can be an inherited tendency to acquire Meningiomas with a sensitivity to X-rays and since my mother and I both have/had them, I worry that radiation (X-rays) might cause additional growth or new growths. I want to avoid X-rays AND anyone who wants to force them on me.

3 Dreams 080121: Rude Listener and untold story, Crossing the ra

3 Dreams 080121

Rude Listener and untold story, Crossing the raging torrent, the girls

1)The Rude Listener(s) and the Untold Story

At a party, someone asks me to tell a story. Somehow, I can't remember exactly how now, he asks for a specific story, the story of the storm over the Hundred Acre Swamp. He seems to know something about the story, for as I begin to tell it and mistakenly say "thousand Acre Swamp," he corrects me just as I am correcting myself. He's heard the story before or was somehow involved. I am setting up the story:

I was a naturalist and camp counselor at Second Home Nature Center. I had 22 campers that session, twenty 4th and 5th grade boys, most of which had been there before and were itching for a change, one blind boy, Rin,and a girl from France who spoke almost no English. My assistant was a brand new totally green intern. During part of the week, I also had the assistance of a volunteer, Trudy, who knew some French and spent one-on-one time with the French girl helping her to understand what was going on. But Trudy had health issues and was unable to come on the Thursday adventure.

Garrett had dreamed up a new plan for this year. We would drive to the far side of the Hundred Acre Swamp in a park truck with the kids in the back, drop them off at one side with maps and compasses, and tell them some cockamamie story that induced them to find the tips of certain peninsulas that poked out into the swamp where there was buried treasure and clues to the next treasure but forced them to cross and recross the center of the swamp using the map and compass skills we had perfected in yesterday's Orienteering adventure. We would also be learning about the nature found in a swamp--water snakes, snapping turtles, duckweed, etc.

We had tested the hike with adult counselors and naturalists, and then taken several other groups out. This was the last group of the summer, and the worst, by far. And the biggest. Garrett had gone against his own rules and allowed extra kids to register. It took two trucks to cart us and our gear to the far side of the swamp. We tumbled out, with rubber bands around our pant cuffs to keep out the leeches and backpacks with lunches, supplies and first aid kits.

At this point, the person who had asked me to tell the story stood up, turned and headed toward the bathroom I stopped my story to wait for his return. The others on the couch with him and on chairs around the room look at me expectantly, as if they expect me to continue, but I think I should wait for the one who asked for the story. We wait a while. Everyone waits. But the guy doesn't return and after a while, the conversation turns elsewhere. Eventually, everyone gets up and leaves and I am sitting there with my untold story. I feel sad and slightly bereft and somewhat put out. Annoyed. We hadn't even gotten to the good part of the story yet, where the lightning struck and the trees fell down and the wind lashed and the rain fell.

I have inherited (in the dream) a really lot of money and have taken up the habit of giving small gifts of $500 out somewhat randomly. I had decided to give $500 to the man who asked me to tell the story, but he is gone and so is everyone else and I have given no one the $500. So I have two things to be sad and frustrated about.

This dream became semi-lucid near the end. And while I was dreaming it I was also remembering other related things and questioning my actions. But I did not get that lucid "rush" or take any control of the path of the dream.

I am not going to do any dreamwork at this point because I need to record the other dreams and have other things to do--but I believe that the messages of the dream are clear:

1. I need to tell that particular story (in a Sissy book and elsewhere)
2. I need to tell my stories in general before I die of old age. (Get my books written and out there)
3. I need to make charitable donations and take care of financial matters
   

2)Crossing the Raging Torrent:

I have lost some of this dream while recording the last.

We are walking somewhere we need to go on a path through the woods. We come upon a raging stream/creek--an uncrossable torrent where we expected an easy crossing. At this point I become semi lucid. We turn left and walk upstream. I am questioning if this is the right choice, especially since the land rises sharply and becomes rocky until the stream/creek is running through a deep gorge with cliffs on either side of the stream. At the top of one steep rise is a flat place with a log across the gorge. It is very teetery. We are going to cross it and are in the process of doing so when I wake up thinking we are making it safely across and disappointed not to see it happen and reach our goal.

I think this dream might be related to the last dream--the raging torrent is all of life's distractions that seem to build and build and keep me from accomplishing my goals. I need to concentrate and get to work!

3)The girls

OK, now I've forgotten this one entirely. All I remember is that it was about the girls [my daughters] (or they were in it) and there was at least some happiness in it.

Eating Rats

We have three packages of meat, and we open eat the first one--it looks like a rat but it tastes okay and we eat it anyway.  One is small and I tell Keith, poking at it, that I don't want to eat it because it looks like a mouse with the fur still on.  The third package looks like a rat and still has its fur, but worst yet, it is still breathing.  It is a very large Norway rat, except it also has some thick, soft--very soft, dense fur on it's tail.  I pick it up and it come to.  It jumps down and runs into the living room.  I think it is hungry and grab a cheery tomato, which it begins to ravenously eat.  I pick it and the tomato up and put them back on the table.  I am wondering frantically what kind of container we can put the rat in until we decide what to do with it.  Meanwhile, I suggest that the rat might like to eat the dead mouse.  Keith starts throwing the mouse at the rat, not to hit it, but to make it available, but the rat is running around the table and Keith keeps missing. Keith seems to be a bit afraid of the rat,  I wasn't at first and picked it up several times, but it is a very large rat and I start being afraid of it.  I wonder if it was a wild rat.  It looks like one!

12-22-07  No dreamwork right now, too much to do.

Dreaming about painting

I keep dreaming about painting.  I dreamed extensively about it last night and was very excited about my dream ideas when I woke up, but immediately forgot them--wahn.  The night before last, I dreamed I was painting a water scene.  There was a twisting bay or inlet with five rowboats arranged in the foreground in a slightly haphazard but pleasing way.  Each boat had a man in it fishing--some were standing and some sitting,  The boats were all white, but each had a different colored stripe  just under the bow.  The trees in the background were bright with autumn colors.  (But in the dream, the colors of the boat stripes didn't really color coordinate with the scenery--one stripe was a sort of industrial pink and another a sort of industrial grey-blue.)

Fallen

Tuesday, September 11, 2007 (911!)

Last night I dreamed:

We had a stained glass flower on the windowsill in the study. It was yellow, maybe a poppy but probably an evening primrose—primarily the blossom, little edges of the leaves. It has fallen down behind the desk and I am explaining to Biker Buddy that it was irretrievable, but hoping he can somehow rescue it.

I also dreamed that:

Biker Buddy had sex with another woman and is telling me about it as calmly, casually and enthusiastically as he talks about beer and other women’s breasts. I amwondering, in the dream, why I wasn’t planning on divorcing him immediately. In real life, I would! (And I know that in the dream!)


I woke up upset and scared.


and wrote this poem:

Fallen

Behind the massive, immovable desk, a stained
glass evening primrose falls, shining yellow, small
sun, falls from the windowsill and disappears.
Irretrievable, I say, hoping I am wrong and you
will somehow rescue it.

But you won’t listen,
telling me instead, with the same enthusiasm
you have for beer and other women’s breasts,
that you have betrayed me with another woman.
When a primrose falls, it shatters.




Mary Stebbins Taitt
For Biker Buddy, from a dream!
070911 (911!), 1st

Nested in a flower

The Extra Genital

Keith is naked and in a wheel chair. Steve and Sarah are there and upset and I finally see that there is a protrusion, a growth, in the center of his lower belly above his genitalia. I think at first it is his genitalia, before I look closely. A round ball of flesh with pointy protrusions tops a smooth column of flesh like a simple medieval mace (or a slightly overgrown fancy penis, thicker, rounder and pointier at the tip, but shorter than a normal penis). We are rushing Keith to the hospital, although it seems to me that this growth must have been there a long time, in spite of the fact I've never seen it before. It seems so smooth and perfect and well-developed and healthy. We reassure Keith as we rush him toward the hospital, and I am at once worried and calm because for some reason it doesn't seem like that big a deal (although when I wake up I feel a little upset).

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Dream about Peter and the DeVries

I had a long, strange complcaited dream about you this morning, just before I woke.  It was a very fluid ever-changing dream, but unfortunately, I now remember only small parts of it.

I dream that my family and I go to a restaurant where we'd never been before and are unlikely to go again, in some strange, faraway, out of the way place.  They are having a special or something and we decide to stop.  We get inside and lo and behold, who should we see but the entire DeVries family standing in line at the buffet.  The line is long and stretches past a parge stone fireplace and you are all looking intently at something on the mantle.  I shush my family and sneak over and place one hand on your shoulder (Peter) and one hand on Jonatha's shoulder (David is between you in line, Charlie behind Jonathan, your parents in front of you).  You turn around to look at me and I laugh delightedly that we are all here in the same place together by some freak accident of fate.  In this part of the dream, we are maybe me 12 or so?, you (Peter) a few years younger.

More stuff happens, I forget, exactly what, but at one point, I am am looking at you and you are standing alone in a blue shirt and khaki pants and look as if you are about 7 years old (younger than earlier).  I feel a great fondness for you/attraction to you and feel strange about it, because you are so young.

I take my food and sit down at a table in a very large room where there is no one else.  I am the first one into the room and choose a large table and am imagining that you and everyone will come sit with me, but the scene cuts to a few minutes later and you and David and Charlie and Jonathan are sitting with Bob and Tom at a table by another large stone fireplace, all the way acorss the room.  As far away as you can get from me.  I am deeply hurt and offended.  It's a boys only table and there is no room at the table for me.

Then I am sitting with my friend Pam who is older than me in "real life" now.  We are both "old ladies" but you are still a child (maybe about 12?).  You are still at the boys table, far across the room, more people have filled the space between us.  You are a boy, you are far away, and you are young and I am so old.  There is this great gap between us that is too far to bridge.  I wake up feeling sad, somewhat bereft.

The Ejection Seat

Sara and Erwin are helping Keith and me chaperone a group of teenagers in a foreign country. Sara and Keith go to make some arrangements and are going to meet us back at the piazza, but the teens have a little rebellion and want to go back to the hotel after only a few minutes at the amusement park. Erwin and I agree to take them back but I am upset because I can't get a hold of Sara and Keith to let them know. Then we get lost on the way back to the hotel. I am riding in Erwin's car, which was sort of like his current car, but a convertible with the top down. Erwin pushes a button that activates an ejection seat and sends me catapulting through the air across a wall and into a mansion-like home on a hill. He takes off with the teens to go play. I am shaking hands with people and introducing myself in an embarassed way. None of the well-dressed people at the house seem surprised to see me. They are having a party, there are many guests and I am assumed ot be one of them. It is a huge mansion, though and so many hands to shake. I can't find my way out and had no idea how to get back to Keith and Sara to warn them not to go back to the piazza to meet us.

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