dream a (stupid, stupid) little dream…

Since I haven’t actually been writing my dreams down at all for the past 37 years, I’ve only got a couple of fragments to get started with. Thus begins the totstroc dream journal:

Several Months Ago
Woke up in the middle of the night, last night, convinced that there was something truly important about the dream I had just had in which I was watching a bar band with actor Ron Eldard playing a really mean baritone sax, and a very young Morgan Freeman on rhythm guitar. We’re not talking “Lean on Me” Young either; we’re talking “Brubaker” young, and dressed like a cross between Jimmie Hendrix and, well, Morgan Freeman.

Analysis: I (might) just watch too much TV.

Last Night
I fell asleep while listening to a recording of “The Well Tuned Piano” by La Monte Young. This is somewhat important, because the piece itself is composed and performed on a piano tuned using the “just intonation” method, specifically “derived from various partials of the overtone series of an inferred low fundamental E-flat reference ten octaves below the lowest E-flat on the Bösendorfer Imperial”, and as a result, the intervals between the notes are (unsettlingly, at times) different from those we hear in most western/equal-tempered music. It’s also five hours long (I was listening to the first hour), and is probably more accurately described as a “tone poem” than a traditional melodic/harmonic composition.

So…. asleep I fell, and into a fitful series of dreams in which my consciousness drifted in and out of contact with (and sometimes the point-of-view of) another consciousness, which appeared to be a sort of hive-mind, smeared across the entire microbial biomass of the planet. Said hive-mind was (of course) in the process of subsuming all of the other consciousnesses on the planet (such as myself.) Upon waking, I remained somewhat undecided as to whether I was actually awake, or was just dreaming that I was awake, from inside a me-bubble of consciousness within microbial hive-mind.

(I had a similar, but much less pronounced episode, when I started listening to Debussey last year and fell asleep listening to Suite bergamasque.)

Analysis: SF read at a young age makes a lasting impression. Also, check with doctor about a sleep study for possible apnea. Also, keep journal close at hand tonight, as I plan to listen to the third hour of the recording.

Thirty Five Years Ago
My childhood bedroom had a walk-in closet, which was pretty-much empty, except for some dust bunnies and a pile of coat-hangers. My brother and I spent a lot of time in there playing space-ships and such. One night, I dreamed that I woke up in the morning, and (for no reason I could think of), decided to look in my closet, and discovered that it was FULL (like, up to my chest) of all sorts of delicious candies. I crawled in, pulled the door shut behind me and literally swam from one end of the closet to another. Then I (again for no discernible reason) left the closet, got back into bed and went back to sleep. Shortly later I (for real this time) woke up, and practically jumped out of bed, I was so excited about the closet-full of delicious treats that awaited me, just across the room. I ran across the room, threw open the closet door, surveyed the undeniable lack of candy, and laid down on the floor and cried for what felt like days.

Analysis: The first time I remember feeling well and truly betrayed by the universe. (I got over it.)

Once a Year Since I First Rode a Bicycle
When I watched this video, I went full-on PTSD-mode, and basically curled up in a ball whimpering for twenty minutes. Honestly, I always assume that everyone has dreams like this, but maybe not. To be clear though, my dreams always ended with the bike slowly tipping over, and me getting whipped onto the pavement at about 90mph.

Analysis: I am, deep down, just a big ole’ fraidy-cat.


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