dreamstate writing 26 Sep 2017

I was walking down a busy boulevard (similar to Hollywood, at Cherokee) when I felt compelled to leave it and use the restroom in a tastefully restored, three-storey-tall, red-brick building off to my right-hand side. The building appeared to house a discothek of sorts, with many people entering and exiting it, and music emanating from within. As I stepped over its threshold I noticed that bricks of raised, white, translucent Chinese hanzi writing-characters had been laid in intricate patterns over many of the bricks, covering most walls from floor to ceiling. The individual, mostly meter-tall hanzi were connected to one another with tapering, starburst-like trails of white and translucent bricks.

Making my way through the central dance-floor, past many happy guests, I entered the well-lit men’s facilities at the rear, whose walls were lined with yellowish-white tiles. Desiring privacy, I opened the doors to both water-closets at the back of this room, only to find sit-down toilets on raised platforms crammed into tiny rooms into which I did not feel like going, as they were dark and terribly close.

Turning instead to a bank of sinks and mirrors on the other wall, I had a conversation with some people milling about there, then exited the restroom into a rear performance space in which a man was playing a keyboard and singing, accompanied by another artist playing the drums. Excited at the quality of the music, I loosed a loud war-whoop, startling many of the black-clad guests who seemed to be enjoying the show (with their backs turned toward me), at which point I was approached by an usher in a black jacket with red lapels who grabbed my left elbow and started leading me to an open hangar door that gave out onto a side road. Halfway there, I shook off his grasp, telling him to not touch me, then mockingly asked him if I had to leave through the hangar door or if I could use the same door through which I’d entered. Realizing that I had offended him, I bowed to him with hands pressed together at the heart, a Thai wai. He stayed silently at my left-hand side, looking at me with widened eyes, until I returned to the land of mortal consciousness - and the pressing need to urinate.

As soon as I lay back down in bed after having finished voiding my bowels in the temporal commode, my alarm-clock rang, signaling the start of morning practices.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

dreamstate writing 09 May 2017

This dream happened before I woke up to meditate:

I was touring the site of an ancient settlement. Giant, grass-covered earthworks covered the mountainside plateau upon which I and the others in my tour-group were walking. Man-sized stone stelae stood about, here and there. We came upon what seemed to be an inhabitant of the place who was wearing a poncho and a wide-brimmed hat. As we watched, he bent down and used a dustpan to scoop up bits of colored stone that had fragmented off a nearby stela. The monolith was roughly square in shape, its corners and top slope-cut in the manner of an Asscher or radiant diamond. The fragments were painted in dark colors, red and ochre.

I looked closer and saw that the rock seemed to have expanded from within, its entire outer layer covered with tiny cracks through which shone a sublayer of brilliant white. To me, it looked as if the rock were an animal shedding its skin, that the painted bits which littered the ground around it had served their purpose and were being discarded.

The local man was trying to sell the bits of rock to us, to which I chose to respond in anger. As I berated him verbally, I became aware that I and the other people in my group were sitting at long tables in a roofless laboratory of some kind. A wall at the front of the room was made of glass, one to our right was painted light grey. The hawker was doing chemical experiments of some sort on the fragments while still trying to convince me and the others to buy them. All of the other people in our group had their backs turned toward me and appeared to be staring at the glass wall. The way the others were not looking at me gave me the feeling that my efforts to yell at and berate the man in the wide-brimmed hat were a waste of time, a counterproductive effort.


This dream happened when I crawled back into bed get warm again after meditating:

I awoke to find that I had been sleeping on a wide expanse of masoned sandstone that seemed to be on top of a bridge or tall building. Beneath me was a comfortable bed piled high with blankets and pillows. Above me was the sky. I realized that my perch was not as high as I had thought and that other people were nearby, which caused me to worry about the location of my belongings. To my right behind a wall of glass were brick houses built next to a road that led up a steep hillside. One of the houses was covered with the most awesome graffiti I’d ever seen. I tried to get my phone out to take a picture of it but couldn’t bring my hands up to do so. 

In the dream, I sat up in bed, craning my neck to check on my belongings. I saw them together off to the side, lumped into a pile of clothes and bags, bundles of coat-hangers, old exercise equipment. Upon standing up to gather my things I discovered I was naked, which caused me a bit of concern. Once dressed more fully I walked over to tidy up my possessions. I was stuffing clothes into bags when I saw that some of my things were in a glass-walled room that I could only access via a short flight of stairs. As I was heading toward the room I walked past five men standing on the corner of the sandstone ledge. Standing in front of the four clad entirely in black was one wearing lighter tones and a hat, who said “Shakaloha” back to me when I passed him by and flashed him the surfer’s gesture.

After I had tidied up my things I went back to bed, concerned however that there was a pedestrian walkway just on the other side of a stone wall behind my head. A person leading a dog came down the sidewalk toward me. For some reason I wanted to hide from her, but knew I could not.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

Grigovia bans drones

Citing the actions of the community of Deer Trail in America's Colorado as its primary inspiration, the Glorious Republic of Grigovia banned weaponized and spy-equipped drones from its airspace. Henceforth, the only drones allowed in the skies above this small, landlocked Central Asian nation are those used by accredited and licensed organizations to search for and assist in the rescue of missing or imperiled persons. “In order to protect the privacy, lives, and rights of our citizens, we pledge to aggressively counter any attempts by imperialistic foreign powers – especially by the United States of America – to operate aircraft in our skies with the intention of maiming, murdering, spying on, or killing,” said Teyriyest Uscht, deputy Minster of Defense of the Sovereign Airspace. “Furthermore, we offer a reward of 75 units of your currency of choice for proof of a downed UAS (unmanned aerial system) – proof would include pieces of fuselage, sections of wing, or any other component that have distinguishing markings upon them.” Both Grigovia and Deer Trail encourage their citizens to proceed with diligence, patience, and ferocity, and to defend Liberty by actively fighting oppression.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥