A long night, fevered dreams, more selections of unrelated images; that I'm in Tunisia (and thinking "this is where they filmed Star Wars!") and I find under the sand a giant quartz reef, all quartz, deep, beneath the dunes, and digging it goes deeper and deeper and there has to be something here.... I must be living in Europe, because I'm grateful I've found this so close to home...
...or I'm finding a layer of fluorite/calcite under my house, it's fractured, shatters out easily, but what can I do with this (and to dig it up is to undermine my house...)
... or I'm with people, a party, maybe I know them, maybe I don't, emotional associations, "Auld Lang Syne"...
The night passes, I'm in sweats, fitful, restive, tossing and turning, too hot, too cold, fever, chills. I'm up at 9:00, I could sleep all day but I'm not getting better and there are things to be done.
The dreams, all bits, yet the overtones, undertones, create a story much bigger than the images they provide.
Which brings me to consider an old theory, that dreams, ideas, they live outside ourselves, our mind is but an antennae to tap into them, but - given my fevered state it's probably not the time to be giving this too much consideration, my thinker's a bit bedeviled at the moment...