On dream log details

These early sleeping and waking entries don't follow the ideals I'm about to describe, but that's because I hadn't learned them yet. I feel compelled to write these now, because these are really - for lack of a better word - amateur dream logs. If only for my own satisfaction, I have to admit out loud that this is true, which I've done already, and explain why. Here's the explanation.

Dream logs should contain details from every level of hierarchy:
Top level, like "I'm in my pre-school making crafts. Then suddenly I'm walking a dog.";
Mid level, like "Erin and Austin are there as kids. Although their faces are not their own, I recognize who they are. I don't remember where they were standing." and "The big round window behind me is the only light and there's a blue haze over everything.";
And, this is the hard part, low level, like "The project is to make a noodle picture frame. I'm sitting alone at a short yellow circular textured plastic table about 3 feet wide with a 2 inch hole at the center. My chair is hard to balance and it takes focus to not fall over. I can feel that my frame is for my grandfather. The pasta is hollow, round fettucini and we are piercing it through glass (1/8th inch thick) by twisting with both hands as one might start a fire by grinding a stick into a block."

That last level of detail is what helps you recall the memory later when you read over it, and it's what builds your connection with your subconscious, which is what it's all about, as far as I'm concerned. The more of those tiny pieces you can squeeze out of your short term memory and put into your long term memory, the better. With practice it becomes easier, and the reward of the strong connection to your subconscious carries into waking life. There's so much world your mind constructs for you in a dream, and every detail is there for a reason.

Latvia July 21, 2006, Part 1

Dreaming

We came home last evening around 6 and I took a cold shower as I had promised Ivars. I fell asleep before I could fulfill the rest of my promise - that I would read in the playground. I slept for eleven hours (I'm tired, you see, "because I don't eat meat"). I dreamt that my former rowing coach, Hartsuff, prevented my arrest or somesuch in an enormous, thousand-acre grass field of rolling hills where T-1000 and I were conspiring for something. A few dreams later, I was rowing in a canal in fall and wrapped myself in a floating dock. I was thrashing around and Gregg Hartsuff, who was all over my dreams, explained to our coxswain (Megan) on land that what I was doing was the correct way to dock.

Storytime:

Imants asked Liga how she had gotten the money to pay for a replacement ring for one they had lost. (Not sure it was a ring.) Well, the way she did it was by stepping in for her friend at a modeling photoshoot for a calendar in Germany in 1952. Her friend had gotten nervous, so she escorted her, but when they got to the shoot, they wanted Liga instead. I put together from several stories today that she was quite beautiful. It explains why she keeps telling me to check out the beautiful Latvian women... she ran with the pretty crowd.

Latvia July 20, 2006

I just skimmed over the rest of this journal. To my surprise I only wrote down about two dreams. Ah, well.

I just barely forgot my dreams last night, but our stay was pleasant. We're staying in a family friend's apartment in a part of the city about 15 minutes from Vecriga (veh-ehtz-ree-ga).

I'm in Old Riga now in front of Sv. Petera Basnicas [I don't have the vowel bars]. It was built with a wooden tower with a beautiful structure, which the Russians burned down. It has since been rebuilt of steel with an elevator for tourists. The view is quite something; I don't blame us.

It turns out that Riga was founded in 1201. It made me think that the age of my country makes us feel more significant.

A homeless person walked up to me and Ivars and pointed to her mouth and her sign that I couldn't read.

In the market in a "Konvent" marketplace, Ladymama walked up to a stand with amber jewelry. I feared that she was shopping for me or mom, so I had to check. I can't show any interest in anything or there is a chance she'll buy it for me. She has a heart of gold, I think, but misplaced intentions. The amber stand lady, wearing a lightweight black shawl/shirt in the intense sun said something to us in Latvian and "good luck" to me. We departed for a place called "Double Coffee" where we were given menus with the size and feel of a glossy newspaper.

We ate at a restaurant where the music selection made me feel all young, old, superior and foolish. They had menus in Latvian and English and their translations were hilarious. "His Majesty Caesarian Salad" "Happy Salmon Soup." Due to a slip-up earlier in which I revealed to Ladymama that I will eat chicken when pressed, she would not leave me alone. She told me I had circles under my eyes and that she was worried about me and all this topical nonsense about vitamin b12. I argued back. It was a rather awkward situation for Ivars and Inese. She conveniently forgot that I personally do eat some animal proteins, but I rather enjoyed the argument, I'm ashamed to say, so I withheld this information. Ladymamaa then told us all several stories, some in english, for which Ivars' sister had to pretend to understand.

Latvia arrival

8pm?

Waiting for the flight with us was a pair of girls approximately my age. One was stunning. She was dressed in a "Roxy" t-shirt and some plain, flattering jeans. Her hair had been bleached some 5 months ago and her medium brown roots were showing. Her power was in that she spoke no english and when she pronounced a 'P' or 'B', the tip of her nose dipped down like the siren in O, Brother.

I didn't know that this beautiful girl was a warning. Since I got here, I've been constantly visually assaulted by girls with perfect faces and fabulous figures. It's terrifying. These girls are better looking than the girls in advertisements around here.

The boys are less impressive, though I did see the grown-up, GQ-ed version of the drummer boy from the Sigur Ros video, no one could be described as stupefying, which, even conservatively applied to the women here, becomes overused.

I was taken to a place called Lido today. I was not hungry, and it was obvious that we were there for me. I blame the grandmother. She must have said something to them in Latvian for which I paid in awkward. Five people watched me refuse to eat a pasta dish I was forced into picking due to ham, and suffer through some vegetables Ladymama decided I wanted, despite my best efforts to quell the notion.

On the way to the apartment we drove through areas where "one's life is in one's hands" and bullet holes remained from 50, 60 years ago. The stone and concrete buildings are discolored and the wooden ones are rotted.

To my amazement, we did not leave these areas to arrive at the apartment. I'm not sure if it's dangerous here, but we are unquestionably in Eastern Europe (like the pictures).

Cats are everywhere and everything is unkempt. The result is beautiful trees and people who look despaired, beating rugs and hanging clothes to dry in the public court.

I watched some Rowing World Cup on TV (in Russian) and took a long cold shower (it's been around 90° and sunny as hell). I have no idea what time it is. The sun is still up, but that only means it's not between 11:30 and 3am. I've not slept more than 30 minutes since yesterday, so I'm going to pass out. Hopefully I'll dream up something good.

Schipol

6:15am

A grandmother works better than a puppy-
I was standing on a moving walkway talking to Ladymama, when a very attractive girl (~27) walked by. I pulled Ladymama's sleeve and said "oh, look out, someone's coming." This earned me quite a look from the girl, who was apparently impressed by my awareness. Smiling back, I realized we were in Amsterdam.


7am

She just told me about a book in which a man says of some religion "never mind their meek appearance - they will kill if they disagree." I suggested that this is true of any religion. She said "every war," then said that war is why she believes in God or some higher power. "It teaches you something. You are in a position of certain death, but somehow..."

I am in no position to argue, but I can't help thinking of all those like her who died early, or just before a final escape.

Latvia, July 19, 2006

I went on a trip to Latvia with my grandmother in 2006. The purpose was to take her to some of the places she remembered and to experience some of the country for my first time. We flew there together.

Waking:

This journal will serve as my dream journal and my waking journal for this trip. Considering the potential paths this unstructured visit may take, I would be a fool not to document it. My roommate, Sandy, suggested that this trip may wind up with enough compelling content to outline a graphic novel or at least inspire one, but one of the in-flight movies available for selection was "V For Vendetta," so my hopes are grounded at the moment.

I'm not sure how to write this, so for the time being I'm only going to use the most personal style I can think of, though I already feel self-conscious and cocky about using it. The fat that the last sentence uses "feel" suggests that this journal will bear a lot of my own analysis of the situations I encounter, but I will try to also offer objective writing as well. If I'm really good, I won't analyze anything until I've written it.

If you can't tell, this is the first time I've ever written a self-motivated journal.

We're one hour or less from Schipol airport, where, thanks to a pointy metal protrusion in my chair, and my expert packing, I will be walking around with a six-inch gash in the back of my shorts. Thankfully, my expensive traveler's boxer-briefs survived the ferrous invasion and no ass hair will be making its first public debut this morning-evening-four-hour-sleepless-perpetual-day traveler's nightmare.
Blessed are the Dutch.

---

Descent has begun and a flight attendant just said to me: "Thank you for taking good care of your family. Many people do not."

Wednesday, December 29 (labeled 2004)

This one is labeled 2004, but is at the end of a series of December 2005 dreams. I don't feel like verifying my facts, so let's just assume I traveled through time.

Writing at 7:45pm, ~10 hours after waking.

I remember lots of darkness. Sky black, water black... The only light seemed to be from cracks in the stone. I was in a deep valley with water below and vertical walls of black stone. I must have been flying because I glided up from under a bridge onto a pointed cliff guarded by a possibly headless demon-man in huge black armor. Cracks came up more and in them was more laval, not coming out, just being hot and lighting. Behind the man was a house, somewhat Japanese in design. All black.

Now the cracks were defining edges of small squares. My desire was apparently to own or control these regions somehow. Oozing from the center of each was a small orange glob with a face in it. I looked up and touched a few - seeing Saddam Hussein and a couple other faces of evil men. They may have been lost souls.

Achieving lucidity was the initial goal of keeping a journal. What I learned from the process was that lucidity is ok, but remembering the second half of your life is the real reason to do the work. Because I was so excited this time, I wrote really sparse notes about it.

As dreams do, this one changed dramatically. I was no in some sort of courtyard with my friend, Momo, leaning on a wall with bushes and windows opposite us [20 feet away]. I think things were still black or at least all gray. I walked to a familiar door. Entering it, I noticed that the designs on the outside were of the wrong colors. I verbally stated this and looked back. Now they were right. At this point I became lucid. [Because I was excited] I had to spin twice to maintain lucidity. [It helped.] The apartment inside was laid out like Ladymama and Papoman's condo (though I didn't recognize this in the dream). Someone was at the kitchen entry but I ignored them... [I went into a room where Papoman's workshop should have been and really noticed I was lucid. Everything was in a blue fog. [I spun, but it wasn't enough to keep me sleeping.]