As I sit in bed doing work on this dark, rainy Saturday, I've just remembered a dream I had this morning. Because it's Saturday, you're probably going to get two posts today; it seems the least I can do, given that tomorrow's and Monday's will no doubt be attenuated and slightly crazed, as seems to be my wont this semester. Also, I hear that it's supposed to start snowing here later, and that's always a provocative shift. Here's your first, short one:
In my dream, I travelled to the Academic Mayhem, which was being held in some vaguely exotic, resorty place that I think was actually meant to be San Diego but of course was a Daliesque version of San Diego. I was in at least two of the conference hotels, as part of this dream, and at least one of them had an extraordinary pool. That one was, I believe, not the one where I was staying. My hotel had a restaurant where some kind of ceremony was going on, even as my family (!) and I were eating our dinner on the first night of the conference. I think that the ceremony might have been a bar mitzvah. In any case, the restaurant was vaguely buffet-style. And someone involved in this operation started closing up shop before we had finished eating. Not minutes earlier, we had seen a couple at a nearby table stack all of their food onto two places--stack it two feet high, I'm talking--and ask to take it with them. A bad piano player was massacring out tunes in the background. I grabbed an extra piece of pie, in order to substantiate the notion that we needed more time than the restaurant was going to offer us. It's possible that this dinner was my second one of the night, anyway. We went on to be transgressive in some other way, after we'd left the dining room, and all the while, if I remember correctly, I was thinking that we'd have been better off staying in the other hotel, where some friends of mine were getting fabulous benefits--and no criticism from the wait staff about how long it took them to eat their dinner.
I have high hopes for another good dream tonight, because weekends (when, I suppose, I get through more REM cycles than during the week) are often good for dreaming. A couple of weeks ago, I dreamt, with uncannily good resonance, that my possibly somebody had turned up in the company of many of my graduate school friends, who looked at him and said to me, "Who's this?" And so I introduced him, and everything went on as it had before, a seamless integration of my past and present people.
source for (and a note about) today's image: I thought twice about putting this mosaic, "Dreaming Lady," on my post; it's from Antonietta Di Pietro's Mosaicando Co.; you can commission mosaics there for all manner of things (including swimming pools and home floors). I think this is a lovely image, and in some ways it really resembles me in my bed; note all the covers (some of which are even the right colors!) and the fact that yon woman even wears a tiara. Now, I don't wear my tiara in bed. I don't really lie around bare-breasted in my bed all that often, either (and certainly not today, because it's cold). But I never said my illustrations were self-portraits, so I decided to go with it. I don't think anyone's going to get mosaic tiles and me mixed up anytime soon--at least not in any way I can control.