dream!
the flip side of reality
previous week back to index following week
sunday afternoon in the rocket depot
Preparing for the trip. I've been spending plenty of time in the machine shop, building parts for the sailboat. This machine shop is for the general public; you can rent time on the machines. It's a giant building; a rocket depot with high ceilings and a massive vertical hole through the center of the building. There is a railing around the hole which is surrounded by the cafeteria, so you can enjoy your coffee or sandwich while imagining a giant rocket being built and launched here. You can also observe people working on the machines. In that way, it reminds me of a bowling alley bar.
They must be planning to expand, since about 70% of the floor is empty. I can hear the director saying that this shop is the kid sister compared to the other shop in Vegas. I climb the stairs to a balcony near the high ceiling, yielding an acrophobic view of the entire floor. It's a new-looking wooden floor. Near the end with the machines, the floor is stained with grease and full of activity and machines; in the much larger end below this balcony the floor is clean and new, and sits under about six inches of water. I can't believe how high the ceiling is; the people must be the equivalent of 15 floors below me.
Even though my parts aren't finished yet; Jim (Stefan?) tells me I should wrap up what I have and get them on their way. By the time the finishing/installation crew gets through the paperwork on them, I'll have a change to update them.
The going is slow for me on my band saw station, since I take for ever setting up the machines and am easily distracted. Near the cafeteria is the stock and skateboard supply section, and I investigate the various boards they have in the bin. On device is simply a set of two wheels you strap to your heel. Looks tough but with a little bit of experimentation I am able to glide in circles around the room.
At one point some police come in and arrest my neighbors, who are an immigrant Mexican grandmother who can't speak English and her daughter. I don't understand why they are being arrested; they haven't done anything wrong. But the are very cooperative, as if they have been expecting this for a while. I help grandma out by holding her things while she gets ready to go. I keep my mouth shut, in case the cop is just looking for reasons to send people to prison.
Earlier in the dream, Pat and I have the opportunity to explore our old neighborhood in Hillcrest as it was 50 years ago. So cool! I love looking at old pictures of areas I know, and this is the 3D interactive version of that!
the DF art scene
Mexico City. I'm staying in a hostel or artist commune in the heart of the city, getting to know the scene. The art is colorful and large. People from all classes are making wonderful art but the very poor in particular are putting out some amazing paintings. Unfortunately, who you are and who you know is just as important as your particular talent in this city, and I notice one man in particular who is sadly trying to kiss the ass of some mediocre middle-class kids in order to try to be recognized. His painting is on a giant metal panel, full of rich blues and yellows and fingerstripes of white.
Krystina has just arrived in town (oh, it's San Diego now) and is trying to get involved in the filmmaking community but there is really not much of one in San Diego. Too small for such a specialised craft, I suppose. But I introduce her to the geographically un-centralised social groups of internet filmmaking forums... the internet acting in such a way that you no longer have to make the exodus to sprawling smoggy cities like LA in order to make films.
staglquest2003
I meet Stagl and his girlfriend Abby at a party in Hillcrest and know that we hit it off wonderfully; know that we are meant to be fast friends. We don't get a chance to talk much then, as Pat and I were uninvited and must be on our way, but Stagl invites me to come talk with him again.
This party is a costume party and amusingly either Stagl or the host is dressed as the girl from the trailer for American Beauty.... in a bathtub, covered with rose petals and a red G-string. Funny.
Then later that week I listen to a radio interview with Stagl. (I either listen to it live or recorded via his own website) He has just started a new career as a web designer and lives the good life, spending much time at home and making his own schedule, taking only as much work as he needs. And since his needs are simple (no taste for fancy cars and expensive threads) he works very little and enjoys his life. It's very inspiring, and so closely aligned with my own philosophy about Transcending Materialism that I know we are meant to be fast friends.
They live on the second story of an apartment building; sometime it's in Hillcrest, sometime it's an Essex-style place in Little Italy that is run by UCSD, sometime it's downtown. I spend a good deal of the dream searching for Stagl's apartment, and then trying to reserve some time with him via email. He has invited me to come over for an evening but my requests via email keep getting rejected from his building's server. Apparently an anonymous person has filed complaints against my email address. How unfair! Slander!
I then watch a video sent from Stagl about how he overcame this obstacle. It is a low-resolution video of a girl named Laura who comes to visit their apartment in the morning. It is very clearly Mitch and Erica's old apartment (solved). Stagl doesn't know Laura particularly well, but there in that apartment, with the morning sun streaming through the windows and creating great contrast of light on the fireplace and bookshelves and low storage cabinets, Stagl forges a conspiratorial agreement with her to use her email address to make an appointment with me. Tricky.
While I am there observing the apartment via the video, I take a time to go through Stagl and Abby's record collection, near the fireplace. Eclectic mix of obscure interesting-looking music from their friends to '80s pop albums with pseudosexy covers, like Sheena Easton and Debbie Gibson (!) in funny hats all fuzzy and airbrushed with that artificial glow.
Stagl and Abby seem so happy and fulfilled living together. How do they do it?
* * *
On my way to meet him, I end up spending some time with the Cal 20 on either Stagl's balcony or Jim's nearby. My mother arrives and is horrified to see what condition the vessel is in!
mexican affairs
I'm down by the beach, in a spot very near the Mexican border. It's a brisk day, and I walk across the sand to check out the choppy surf. There's a tall dune off to my right (to the north) that can afford some great views, so I head up there to take it all in. Some effect is sending water up there, as if the surf in front of this dune is bigger than elsewhere along the beach, or some funneling action based on the topology is focusing water in that direction.
From near the top of the dune I see a better view of the layout. Across the water is a thin slit of land, belonging to Mexico. Further down my side of the beach to the left is a U.S. military base, where the Marines and Navy are conducting some practice maneuvers. This is certainly because the military is very active overseas and must be practicing all it can. A group of about 20 ships moves in front of me, to the left toward the military base. The sand there is very dark; I can't tell if it's from the oil of a thousand machines landing there (sad) or just some dark clouds hanging over it.
Running with the ships are military men riding personal water transport vehicles, right in the surf zone. These are kind of like jet skis, but longer, and they are pedal-powered. They are surprisingly nimble for being human-powered, and they are also a danger to the surfers and children playing in the surf, since they move so quickly and seem to appear from nowhere.
I notice chasing one of the pedal-skiers is a huge aquatic lizard, twice the size of a person, swimming very well also right in the surf. Yikes, I fear someone will not be going home from their fun little trip to the beach today.
Then I get across the narrow strip of water and arrive on the docks on the Mexican side, where Lacy and Enav come to pick me up in a van (it belongs to Lacy's parents). They have some visitors from Europe and have set out for a day trip across the border. Unfortunately the registration on the van was expired and the license plates were confiscated on the way across the border. I wonder if we'll have trouble crossing back...?
Regardless, we have a great time driving around the docks of this narrow peninsula which I have never seen before. It is all fishing warehouses and boat repair shops and marine materials surplus. The streets are PACKED with these places, with little or no gaps between the buildings.
We are discussing the phenomenon of the giant lizard I saw swimming around in the water. Apparently the American side is totally oblivious to the animals and the Mexican side is very aware of its activities. These lizards are prone to eating license plates and fiberglass from boats, so a majority of the businesses around us either specialize in supplying and repairing these materials... and even the mom-and-pop bait and tackle shops invariably have a stack of raw fiberglass somewhere in the shop. We can point them out to each other with every passing open store (And they are all open).
One of Lacy's foreign friends comments that he or she never thought traveling in Mexico could be so fun. He loves the way the people are resourceful and improvise so well, and seem to be living rich lives. I tell him that for those very reasons travel in the third world can be very addictive, and he should try it sometime. It really can change you perspective in a healthy way.
Lacy drops me off at the ferry before trying to get her van back across the border. I find out later that she was fortunate... in situations like this one must pay a certain bank $1000 to get new plates attached... but on this particular day she found a bank that was celebrating its anniversary or grand opening, so everything was half off, and she got the van back into the country for $500 instead.
I end up walking to a busy area that is the entrance to several resorts and seaside business. One of the resorts has a nude area, which makes me happy since every other beach in this country is so repressed about nudity... but I am hungry for a sandwich and don't want to deal with a Club Med-style resort. So I head next door and get in one of three immense lines at the cafeteria (fortunately the line moves quickly). At one point I'm in line with Onn, and then later the line joins up with another and I am standing with Uncle "Papa" Bill. He has one of those new cell phones with a camera in them and talks loudly about how nobody should bother with anything less than the latest gadgets. I feel bad for the people nearby (in front of us in line) who don't look like they can afford the latest gadgets.
I am craving an egg and ham sandwich and for some reason I want to hear an old rock song from the early 60s along with it. It's a specific tune I can't remember now. When we finally get to the front of the line the person helping us is my cousin Michelle! She says she can custom-make the song for me but she has to make the standard sandwich. That's fine with me, I'm not picky, and the sandwich ends up being a delicious pepperoni-and-meatball hot one. When I Start eating it, the song I requested blares loud in my ears. It's a modern rendition of the old song, but I sing along and enjoy it.
Then we sit back and watch a film on a large screen. First there is a preview, about my mom and her twin sister. It unfolds like a conspiracy film, as the two sift through clues from their past to discover how they have been torn apart (across the country) and ended up differently from each other.
Then the feature film starts. It's a Jim Carey deal, and the trailer says "He's the him-helping-them-who-crosses-his-bosses-to-help-her-help-him-against-them" or something like that. It's the story of his rise to power as the president of Mexico. But he is really working for some very powerful people (government or mafia) who are taking over the world by putting their people in power in large countries. But he turns against them (is this like the Noriega story?) and meets the leading lady (Geena Davis?) who helps him win the hearts of his people while he works to undermine the threat of his former bosses. Most of these events take place around a large old pyramid in the center of Mexico City.
Then someone feels my belly button and I feel hers. It's very soft, curious. Tickles a little. We remark that many countries, such as Spain and Mexico, have their large important city in the center of their land, with a prominent statue (such as the pyramid) that has its own literal belly button and which is the figurative belly button of the nation. Why don't we have that? What is our belly button. Oklahoma City? The "Heartland"? Such a letdown.
land on lava
todd college bathany lockhart; getting finanaces together, golden retriever that does tricks, our old nicknames
Karen is mad hat herself for the way she acted to a friend; never seen her so brooding.
Todd calls me over to his new campus housing and wants to talk to me about my "fortune". Does this mean my future or my money or both? I suspect both. He seems really concerned about me.
pat and i move in with beau and a friend of his. it's a great house, but kind of a bummer. huge house, actually, with a groovy back yard (great for enjoying sunshine) and a giant rectangular pool. While we are all enjoying the sunny day, i take a look around our back yard and explore it a bit.
far behind us is a freeway; I think it's the 15 and we are on the east side of it. it's a ways north from SD, where there is a bit of open land. our house is built on what looks like an old lava flow; not much thick foliage, just crazy twisted hardened lava. as i climb all over that toward the freeway i see a 737 (i forget which airline but it was specific in my dream) fly in very low from the east. he noses into the wind and stalls out very close to the ground, eventually crashing in a corner near the base of a cliff (so the right wing is sheared off).
It's an incredibly soft landing for a crash-landing and everyone has survived. they are very calm, in fact, as they patiently get off the plane and wait for a shuttle to take them to the SD airport. One passer-by sticks his head through a smashed window and starts chatting with passengers. It turns out they were enroute from Oklahoma or new jersey to LA. 'oh yes' says the passer-by 'I've done that flight a thousand times; I know the routine. I can't believe he's chitchatting about flight routes with these people who just survived a plane crash! How selfish; what a prick.
I hear the pilot explaining what happened: He lost all power and stalled the airplane out just right in this clearing. It's as if he'd done it before and was so able to pull it off cleanly.
- - -
zonked. twice.
the lion siege
I'm living with my mother and sister in our old house in Bonita. A wild lion has found its way into our back yard and is sleeping on a couch facing the house. Very unsettling, especially for Steve Ball, who is staying as a guest in the room facing the lion. We are worried for our cat Pavarotti, who hasn't returned for the night. In the meantime our house becomes a refuge for the neighborhood animals, including other cats, a sea turtle, and thousands of rats which are fairly cute and stream into the attic from the front and are wearing little Christmas outfits and talk with cute squeaky voices.
At some point I am part of a ceremony which is supposed to get the lion out, a Hollywood stage show with about fifty famous actors in it. Each one comes on stage and sings something hokey. I am annoyed by the whole event. As if the fact that these people are famous really gives them special powers! I remember Danny DeVito and Rodney Dangerfield up there on stage, and then they take me onstage to recite some song. Instead, I pass out. (Did I lose consciousnesses or is it really just part of the act?)
Then I am lying on the floor in our living room and a woman comes over to do some sort of witch doctor-style ceremony to scare off the lion. The trick is to somehow remove some bad spirits from my legs so I lay down and she starts putting tight bandages on each of three sections of both of my legs. The process works like this: She tightly wraps a section of one leg, and then I am supposed to identify where the pain is in the corresponding section of the other leg. I then am to cut out a section of a white shirt with scissors. It is marked with a solid red line but there are a dozen other lines (various colors and dashed or solid) which add confusion to the task.
We have two cats that look like our old neighbor's cat Rum Tum Tugger; tall, thin, pale orange cats. One is still outside and another has been part of this ceremony indoors. My mother sneaks outside the back sliding door to call for Pavarotti and leaves the door ajar. The pale orange cat escapes just as the other is approaching the door from the outside, and they split into the night.
Once my mother is safely inside again, I shine my light out the window to get a good look at the lion. It is unusual-looking. It's a male with a large black head with no mane. The light wakes it up and its stares me down through the window. Chilling. I then notice that the sea turtle is sleeping just inside that glass door. It is very thin and desiccated, and hisses at me menacingly in fear and anger.