dreams...
It's David Hasselhoff, and he's doing a commercial for tourism in Provence dressed as a Gallic Knight.
"Did you know" he begins "That Provence is the only place in the world where it's acceptable to wear mittens to breakfast?".
Something to do with the high altitude and mountains....
"But" he continues "By lunchtime you can go about in short sleeves. Pity the people who live in Provence, for where better can they go for winter?"
Then he recites the same commercial again, only in French, and I'm torn between being impressed at his French and wondering how avaricious he must be to have to stoop to doing commercials for extra cash....then again, it's David Hasselhoff.
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Twilight and I'm on a ladder high above the jungle canopy, rope ladder with missing rungs, clambering down towards the trees...
I'm with a physicist, she's going to show me what she's built, this device that converts, atom by atom, lead into gold...
this ladder, precariously swinging so high above the earth, connected somewhere above to a branch, and a large silver ball bearing, hexagon of other bearings around it, she's explaining that the device fires electrons towards it at high speeds, completing them, transmuting them as it were...
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The dining room is strangely quiet, despite the large number of patrons. We've placed in the center of the tables, beneath the tablecloths, basins filled with mercury, the vapors calm the customers, we can hardly hear them...
And if we heat the basins they will all be poisoned....
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I leave for the lunch shift today, they don't need me. So I go downstairs to sleep, I can't go home, there's contractors, there will be no sleep had there other than by them.... The owner's in a foul mood, it's cheque-writing day, and as I try to sleep I can hear all the goings on in the restaurant, the medley of banging pans and Italian curses, it's not the best place to nap, but somehow I manage it...
I'm in London, not London, walking the streets, making a map....
I realize I'm dreaming, this is Lucid, the sounds of the restaurant keep me from falling completely asleep...
I'm on an ancient cobbled street, fine, small row houses, grotesque gargoyles and ornaments, the mood is drear but there's a heightened sense of reality, every gargoyle is different, and as I'm making a map I note that this place hasn't changed, I must take the boy....
now it's a lucid dream and so I wake myself to make my notes.....
....and I'm unrolling a roll of rice paper-parchment, adorned with printed courtesans, I write upon the paper (yellow light), the ink bleeds into the paper, I return to the dream....
The same street I just left, the same as I left it, and I'm walking....a horologist, a bright tree in front, a stump, embellished with watch dials and crystals, broken wares advertising his trade, and I pull aside a crystal to check the dial, it looks like a good make even if it's broken...
Walking through London not London, making my map, there's a festival of sorts, it's evening, and I walk up, people, South American, this is different....
.....and I wake again, knowing this is a dream, make my notes upon parchment....
The din above is too much, and I awake from this again, perplexed, in the squalor of the restaurants basement, the lucidity was real, but the waking was into another dream...
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- Category: Dreams