Karl (louderback) wrote,

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"History is about to be made and you're all a part of it. Not an equal part, of course, but an important part nonetheless."

One of *those* days

Today I have no real plans for today. I can't say precisely why I fear disaster, but my sense of foreboding is in high gear. "my sense of foreboding" is that a phrase synonymous with "raging paranoia?" In any event, I fear the worst today, quite irrationally.
Dreams I am not going to record this one in baddreams, thereby continuing my recent policy of neglect for that community. I have been unable or unwilling to get involved in any of the communities of which I am moderator or, indeed, in which I serve any function at all. Whether this indicates LJmalaise© or a more general ailment is hard to tell.

The Wall

          I was trying very hard to reach someone's hand. I was lying on my back, reaching out desperately and looking at the most mundane vision of a ceiling I can recall. I didn't know for whom I was reaching but I was certain that it was a person. I strained for a while then surrendered and fell. The fall was short and I recovered on my feet. I was at the foot of a wall. It was made of odd stones. They resembled the polished granite of a counter top or even a headstone. They were odd for their size and for the pattern. Each stone was gray with darker swirls in them. These swirls all made a sort of spiral pattern in the center of each stone. The stones were grotesquely huge, any one of them bigger than a mansion. The wall was rough, though composed of smooth stones. It seemed they had all shifted slightly.

          I walked along the wall, knowing somehow that I was headed south. I then noticed that the surface on which I walked was extremely small tiles not unlike a mosaic. The tiles were a warm yellow in color and unlike the wall seemed perfectly smooth and regular. As I walked I looked around myself and found a countryside that was a bit like the American Southwest, reddish, fairly flat, devoid of trees, and broken occasionally by outcrops of rock. There was no sign of any man-made feature save the wall beside me.

          I turned at some point and began walking away from the walls at 90°. I walked a considerable distance, perhaps a quarter of a mile, then turned to look at the wall. It was so tall that even at that distance I could not see the top. It did not extend forever. I knew there was a top, I simply could not perceive it.

          I woke feeling extremely frustrated and a little fearful.


         The other dream that I remember was much more fun. I was in a large building that seemed composed entirely of arches and huge triangular panes of glass, not precisely a geodesic dome, but close. The floor was soft, spongy, and brilliantly white. I walked around, finding my way, after a fashion, then began tumbling. I wish I were so limber in real life! I rolled, spun, did cartwheels and back flips. I ran and did a number of moves that seemed familiar in an Olympic competition sense and a number of others that are gravitationally impossible — high dives and swan dives from a standing start on the floor.

          I saw nobody around me and wondered at the lack of people. I noticed that there were some seats around the edge of the place I was in, but not nearly enough for this to be a stadium or auditorium.

          I woke pleased and wondering what that had been all about…
  1. I still haven't given the blue room that last coat of paint.
  2. Joe helped me move my recliner and guest chair to the basement. This made way for my exercise bike. I used it this morning for 100 calories worth (according to the meter).
  3. I enlarged the trench next to my sidewalk by three more feet. At this rate, I will be ready to lay brick and pour lava rock in only seventeen days. *sigh*
Writing I'm not writing. I need to write. I feel the urge to write. This is as close as it gets. This situation, fundamentally, stinks.

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