Mark Atwood (fallenpegasus) wrote,
Mark Atwood

The Dream that I just woke up from, here in the middle of the dark of the morning

I was on IM with someone, communicating in pure text. I was helping design / negotiate / arrange some sort of scene / performance / experience, that was going to require a Rube Goldberg / Dr Suess level of crazy complexity of ropes and pulleys. I remember making reference to having to arrange things and having discussed things, with other people I know, and pulling them into side IM conversations, people I know who in RL have nothing to do with each other or such crazy stuff.

The main person I was communicating with, I was never quite sure who they were. A me just outside of me kept asking "is this so-and-so? no, its not. oh, then its so-and-so-somebody-else? no, its not."

The back and forth conversations always had 2, 3, 4 levels of meaning, because everyone had other things they wanted to talk about as well or instead, but that nobody wanted to actually say, so every phrase had to be carefully analyzed and deconstructed to figure out all the things being said without being said, and each thing I wrote back to anyone got more and more difficult to write, becoming "heavier and heavier" in my mind, because it had to have many layers of meaning as well, because it had to respond to the surface text of everyone else, plus respond to the deeper meanings of everyone's text, plus include all the stuff i wanted to tell each person that I needed to say without actually saying.

All while this was going on, there was some sort of local multiple community fundraising / auction going on around me, the noise and social swirl of which kept making noise and distraction. Someone was there recording / broadcasting / podcasting the event, and kept wanting to know who I was chatting with and what we were talking about, and I had to keep deflecting him.

At midtime in the fundraiser, refreshments were served, some sort of crazy veggie wrap with a crunchy (!) spinich leaf exterior. I was starving, but got hearded into line for the 2nd set of groups to get to eat. It was chewy, gooey, and bitter.

I was annoyed by the interruption, because in the IM conversation, people were actually starting to say what they meant, but now I couldn't get back to it, and I was losing track of the scenes being negotiated, and all the layers of allusion that everyone was using.

I woke up with my heart pounding.

I wasn't a nightmare, but it's still pounding, and while I'm sleepy, I'm torn hard between fear that I will end up back in the same dream, and fear that I won't.

Tags: dream

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