- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1923
I'm at the Hillhurst-Good Samaritan Rummage sale, and it's looking good. I've filled a bag with antique rosaries, jewelry, buttons, priced at perhaps a couple of dollars a bag, and I'm going from room to room, there are no end to treasures here...and there's an upstairs and another upstairs as well, and the prices are incredibly good when I realize that I haven't checked the watches and everything has already been marked down and I think that the dealers must have already beaten me to it and I run upstairs...already they are putting things into storage and I discover that the dealers haven't been to this room yet, and I have them pull down all sorts of treasures, there are antique clocks and old watches - and I hastily grab one, complicated movement, moonphase, and it opens to reveal yet another watch inside and inside of this there are more and it's watches as far as you can open them...and there's a Greek bust and there are antique wooden pieces of furniture and ornaments, and the staff are annoyed that I'm there so late, I'm buying everything I can lay my hands upon and no sooner do the bags fill than they seem to disappear and there are others that must be filled....time is running out...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 2704
And while I'm narrating other people's dreams, a nod to August Kekule's Benzene Dream - the problem of how the hydrocarbon chain that formed benzene was structured having bothered Kekule (and other Chemists) of the time, the answer came to him when he dreamed of snakes biting their tail, and realized that the structure of the benzene molecule would work if it were a ring...
That, at least, is as the tale goes. The facts (bare bones wiki) can be found here, a slightly less enthusiastic take can be found here. In any event the dream has so entrenched itself into the collective unconscious as a testimony to the power of the subconscious mind, it hardly matters whether Kekule ever had the dream or not. The moral is: Some people have useful dreams....
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1654
She went missing about a week ago, people were looking for her ever since. I was looking for her too, in my own way, heard rustlings up ahead on the trail, would run at them but find nothing, would call out her name, no reply.
But today, finally, we, (the children and I) found her, face down dug into, clawed into a shallow grave of her own digging. She must have hid out here from everyone, until finally she collapsed....
It's a long walk from here out of the park, and while we leave I cover her up with some sort of blanket. And we meet at the edge of the park a midget on a date, it was him who reported her missing and we give him the bad news and he accuses us of doing nothing and I explain things to him and he just goes back to eating his picnic with his date.
It's beginning to snow, and we get home and then the dream starts to get real weird...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1937
Two nights running, a mish-mash of odd dreams, waking up with the scrambled recollections, they seem to make no sense. And one jumps into the other, I have the impression that they are all sharing the same wooden box, nesting one within another or joined by invisible wires. One, vaguely recalled this morning: I have a frog, small, slippery, with a bar-code upon it, and I am using it as a magician might use a dove or rabbit, as a prop for my tricks. The frog doesn't like this, it's a rare South-American frog, endangered from the rain forest, strange bar-code birthmark upon it's mouth....and the frog is talking to me, escaping, it smashes a pen holder I had (stained glass, given to me by my mother) and I'm now angry with frog, trying to pick up the glass (careful, it's sharp), find another pen-holder, capture frog (still talking to me, giving me attitude...)...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1687
"In Xanadu did Kubla KhanA stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea."
More interesting dreams, other people's dreams. In this case, Kubla Khan, a poem written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge - or, more accurately, a fragment of a poem, having emerged from an opium induced slumber he was filled with inspiration and upon writing down the poem found himself interrupted by a persistent traveling salesperson; the dream was lost and he only ever recaptured fragments.
Link: Wiki on Kubla Khan
Link: online-literature - complete poem
Note the ending: "For he on honey-dew hath fed, and drunk the milk of paradise..."