The Long Arm of Gravity's Law

What goes up, must come down, right? 

Not necessarily in dreams.

Maybe.

The impossible can happen in our dreams. Readers to this blog have sent in all sorts of impossibilities that they've dreamt up, as far-fetched as brushing one's teeth with a killer whale, to snorting Allen Ginsberg up one's nose, to being a super hero in the form of a frozen novelty dessert. Weird stuff. On the simpler side a dreamer in Paris dreamt that she saw fish flying up into the sky, going off and away, never to be heard from again.

Maybe.

It is possible that things exiting one dream could return in another. It may even be possible that these items could leave the dream of one dreamer and enter the dreams of another. The odds of the happening might be greater than we think since we don't know what other people dream about most of the time. But 31 Dreamers is a place where dreams collide, overlap, run tandem to one another. And fishes flying out of France may just migrate to Montpelier, Vermont, where Trish dreamt this up during her afternoon siesta:

At a large family gathering I’m looking through the house for my childhood chest of drawers. My mother shows me all of her new cheap/modern but ornate furniture. Out the window I see a crowd of people gathering at the bottom of the hill the house is on. Trying to make sense of the scene from a distance, I grab my mom and some family members and we realize that a couple of police cars have crashed into the yard somehow. I burst out crying when I see people dragging an old man out of one of the cars. I assume he is dead. Two LOUD bangs like gunshots ring out and the crowd scatters or hits the ground, covering their heads. I run through the house and into the garage/front yard area to SHOUT over the noise of the party that there are gunshots and everyone should stay inside.

I run into the room where I’m staying to get dressed to go outside and scope the scene. Someone (a female cousin?) comes into the room to chat while I get dressed and distracts me. In my haste I put on an overly glamorous shirt (inappropriate for the situation) and only one very thin sock with the other foot bare inside pointy black snakeskin bootlets. They don't fit comfortably and it is snowy and wet outside.

I run out to the distraught crowd to find them gaily fixing the lawn where the grass got ripped up from the crash. They are gibber-gabbering about neighborly things and seem to be having quality community time together. A lady remarked that they thought someone had been shooting because she "saw a bottle (of alcohol) that was left in the deer hunting platform on her land across the street, but really the noises had happened because it had been RAINING FISH."

I was dumbstruck and began walking about in a daze, until I fell over a berm in my snakeskin boots. Stuck on the other side, I had to trudge through an irrigation ditch between the berm and the road. Sulking, I waded through the cold water trying to get to the highland of the driveway until I saw indeed—it had rained fish! There were huge, long, beautiful fish flopping out of puddles of water too small for them!

With glee I ran to the house urging my kid brothers to take my 5-year-old son down to the road to see/catch a fish. They walked down the hill to where others were catching fish as well. In my haste to find fish-catching gear, I tripped over a rocking chair and smashed a tiny hard-shelled egg under one of the rocking rails of the chair. I stayed in to resentfully clean this up while the boys excitedly tried to catch the fish with bare hands. As I walked downstairs to get a towel, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Looking back, I was horrified to see that the hand stayed on my shoulder as I continued to walk down the stairs. My stepmom stood stationary at the top of the stairs and her arm stretched like taffy down the whole length of the staircase—Ewww! I shooed off her freaky hand/arm and she just laughed. I had to laugh and smile too and I could hear the children splashing and laughing in the distance.

Trish, for a short nap you can really pack it in. Here's what I got:

You are trying to go back to finding what you value. Your mother doesn't share your values and in the face of disaster you take the lead. The reality is that there are bad things happening and people dying all the time while a lot of us just eat cheese and crackers with pinkies akimbo like folks aren't being shot right in our own front yards. For the others in your dream, what happens outside the window might as well be on the other side of the world. For you it doesn't matter where it's happening—it's real and the people that it's happening to are real. You want to respond to these situations, to save the world and get those closest to you to give a shit about something for once, but you also just want to play dress-up and have fun and not worry about this stuff. In the dream the interface of these two desires makes for some uncomfortable attire while your neighbors blab about nothing and patch problems up as if they'd never existed. Meanwhile you're flummoxed to the point of being dizzy, feeling aimless, unsupported and stuck in a rut and looking like a glam-rock has-been to boot. Its a bad place to be.

But Trish—there's hope! The world is full of wonderful and spectacular things! Did you know that it actually can rain fish? Yep. Small fish, frogs, squids and other aquatic creatures sometimes get sucked into the air by tornadoes and gale-force storms. Up they go, and down they come! (Really—read this BBC article about it). But in the midst of this fantasticness you put family first, sending your son to catch fish while you contend with a household where you always feel like your walking on eggshells, unable to fully be yourself. Your stepmom seems to be the law in this place and she mandates you be a certain way from her position above you. Meanwhile your brothers are free to do whatever they want—y'know, guy stuff. You want your son to be independent and do the things that he wants to do, but will he turn out like them in the process?

That's what I got. That and a little pocket-sized book called Pond Life: A Guide to Common Plants and Animals of North American Ponds and Lakes by George K. Reid. Sometimes when things are a little tense there's nothing better than looking at colorful illustrations of plants, insects and fishes and learning fun facts about the way ponds are formed. It can take one's mind off of the trivialities of the human world, diving instead into the real wonders found in nature. Then, when we're done reading, we might look up and see that everything's gonna be alright. I myself read this book on election day. It worked.

"Raining Fish" illustration at the top of this post by Brett Ryder. More photos of this commoner-than-you'd-think phenomenon can be found in Wikipedia's article "Raining Animals."

Ren Faire Nightmare

We're finally getting around to one of those castle dreams that have been so en vogue these days. Don't forget that you can see what people tend to dream about most often in the "browse dreams by subject" section in the sidebar on the left. This dream puts bathrooms neck-and-neck with mothers, who have been tailgating houses for a while now. But I predict that possession (you know. by witches, ghosts, demons, etc)  is about to be all the rage.

Dream blog #21 brings us Sarah from Alabama, who writes:

We are at the opening of a new Barnes and Noble-type bookstore, in Alabama I think. It is faux castle style. There are lavish food spreads—cured fish, herbed butter balls whose melted moat we sop up with fluffy bread. There is velour on the walls and fur lining the bookshelves. We walk down a very long hall where there are many doors. It was all obviously expensive to make but also the drywall is barely masked. We go into a room. There is a fireplace and many levels of shelves. The books are big and elaborate but also gimmicky and fake, like Pirates of the Caribbean pop-up guides and big other kinds of guides with fake leather spines. We go back into the main room and I see a small man sitting in a cut-away space high in the wall. He is smoking a pipe and surveying the scene. His front is flickeringly lit, which I note must be the light of his faux fireplace. I go to the bathroom, which is incidentally divided from the food by only a partition and when I come out three women in "castle period" dress follow me to tell me a "prophecy." I edge away from them thinking it a sham and at this point wake up.

What is this world coming to Sarah? You can't just go to an old-fashioned neighborhood bookstore anymore. Everywhere you look it's big towering chain outfits the size of palaces that net people in with fancy food and slick decor. When folks go shopping nowadays, nothing less than Disney World will do. And just like The Magic Kingdom, if one takes a peek behind the scenes, one can see the peeling plaster, the shoddy workmanship, the sweatshop child labor, and the empty ideology whose fetid odor is only perceptible to a sharp and inquiring mind. That's where you come in, Sarah. You're open, but skeptical. In your dream you eat the food and marvel at the decor, but see it for the fluff that it is. They've given you so many choices: books to read, shelves to peruse, doors to open, but it's more amusing than tempting because you know that it's all just substanceless cardboard. 

Sarah, you don't trust anyone in this establishment, nor do you jive with those who hang about the bookstore/castle's institutional equivalent in your awake life. What that place is and who these assholes are you know better than I. Like this illuminated little man peering down from above—he can watch you if he wants to, maybe gaze into your mind and judge your ideas, even listen to you taking a tinkle in that joke of a restroom. But his power is as ersatz and petty as the cheap Little Golden Books he peddles. Outside of this place his reign is but a figment. Others have bought into his scheme, like the three renny-faire wenches who accost you with their take on reality. And you want so little to do with them Sarah, that you leave the dream world entirely.

Sara, whatever this place is and whomever its denizens of authority and placid conformity may be, I see a couple of paths for you to take. Not via the doorways in your Barnes-and-Disney-Magic-Castle place—you know those all lead to the same end. No, you can either leave this place, or you can eat your butter balls and bear it. Leaving seems like an eventuality for you, so it might be "eat your butter balls, bear it, and then kiss its ass goodbye." But where will you go? The dream you've created makes a strong case for a version of things you don't want, so then what's the version of things you do want? Dreaming that is tough enough, actualizing it is another matter altogether.

Despite their effed-up history and relationship to warfare, castles are pretty cool. When I was a kid I hung out at my neighborhood bookstore. There were lots of 'em back before Amazon and other online outfits usurped people's desire to rummage the dusty shelves of second-hand shops, or to chance a mom'n'pop having a certain title in stock. Anyway, the children's book author David Macaulay was doing a book signing right in that little bookstore in my neighborhood! Macaulay wrote and illustrated all these great books (including one called Castle) that explain the relationship between architecture and civilization, how each shapes the other, and how human beings create the version of things they want. What that too often looks like is, "how human beings with money and power and corporate backing create their version of things they want." But even though we see the phallic remains of some great big military castle, and not the humble ghosts of the homes that stood in its shadow, those homes and the lives they embodied still had a substance and a richness that was far warmer than the cold ramparts of some embattled tower.

Dear Sarah of Alabama, I hereby knight thee. Go forth from thine dream and hence endeavor to erect your own "castle," be it of stone or or paper, of butter balls or of dreams. Make thy realm in thine own architectural image. Then, send the blueprints to 31 Dreamers.

You'll Sleep With The Fishes: a double dreamer feature

Part two of our two-day delphine dream special begins with a break from our usual fare of dead puppies, gun-toting priests, and people brushing their teeth with Brillo Pads and killer whales. We'll get to all that in a minute. But first, Natalie in Paris, France has this as her entry to the 31 Dreamers:

On New Year’s Eve I dreamed about dolphins and about fishes which fly in the blue sky, like a migration of birds but with dolphins.

It was very beautiful. I was a little surprised, but in my dream I said to myself that I was lucky.

It's my dream!

Natalie, your dream is one of those special ones that is so awe-inspiring that I'm reticent to even pontificate on it beyond saying, "Wow, you are lucky!" Dreams of dolphins are often very light and magical. Dolphins have an intelligence equal to but different from our own—perhaps like the intelligence we possess in dreams. They act as guides (and in your dream they appear to be escorting a school of fish) taking us safely through our dream worlds and showing us interesting things along the way. To dream of dolphins and fish (who are perhaps being led by the dolphins) flying through the air signifies your mystical perception of the year to come. Perhaps you have experienced some inspiring things recently and these experiences are leading you to reach new heights in the very near future.

Now we juxtapose Natalie's dream with that of a possible kindred spirit (pictures right). On this Ides of January we return to the location of the first of the 31 Dreamers—not just to the town of Ann Arbor, Michigan, but to the very same house where our inaugural dream was dreamt! Some readers of this blog may remember Neily's dream from January first (and if you don't you can read it here). Neily's housemate Anthony sent a two-part dream a while back and now is the moment for it to leap out of the ocean of dreams and onto this page. Anthony's dream:

A new student was coming to the school I work at whose name I recognized from a school for kids with autism where I'd taught in Berkeley. I knew this student was severely disabled but there was no mention of it and I told nobody. The student's mother contacted me for a lead on housing in her move from Berkeley to Ann Arbor. My uncle’s house (owned by my grandfather, where my mom and her siblings grew up and where my uncle still lives in real life) needed a tenant, so we went to the house to see it—but I forgot the key. We were trying to jimmy the lock when the door opened and my cousin (the daughter of the uncle who lives there) was curious about us looking at the house . . . Things get fuzzy here.. . . 

The house was now occupied by myself and [my current roommate/former partner] Kiran's family (mom, dad, siblings, her). It was located on the ocean—beachfront. We were sitting in a porch-like room discussing orca whales—someone said that the tide was high now and thus it was a good time to see them. We went out onto the outdoor portion of the porch and overlooked the sea. An orca leapt spraying water all over us. I was the only one who stayed outdoors as pods of dolphins and orcas leapt within feet of us. I was knocked down. A school of smaller fish leapt onto the platform where I sat. Some swam down my shirt and pantlegs. Eels also flew onto the platform wriggling around me and through my clothes. I stood and pulled the fish and eel from my clothing and went inside. I explained all that had happened and all that I had seen. Kiran was upset that she missed it, she couldn't see with all the spray on her glasses and the darkness outside. There was a knock from the side door. Some elderly neighbors wanted to invite us to a meal. I said my parents had gone to visit other relatives—could we do it another time? Fuzzy again . . .

Two dreams, dreamt by two dreamers in two different parts of the world, both sharing some common elements along with yesterday's featured dream. What's with all the dolphins and killer whales flying through the air? It brings to mind Douglas Adams' well-known Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy novels that divulge the banal creation and asinine destruction of the universe. In Adams' story Earth's 2nd most intelligent lifeform (the dolphin) up and leaves the planet right before it's blown to smithereens to make way for an interstellar expressway. The dolphins leave a note for the race of 3rd most intelligent lifeforms (Homo sapiens) saying "So long and thanks for all the fish," (see video at the bottom of this post). The phrase has been adopted by environmentalists to draw attention to the plight of dwindling dolphin populations; by amateur photographers to cutely caption their holiday shots of porpoises leaping into the air' and by SF geeks as a verbose way of saying, "See ya later." But it has little to do with either Anthony's or Natalie's dreams.

Anthony, you seem like the type who ignores the "splash zone" warnings at the sea mammal show and sits in the front row. Your dreamy delphine friends are a bit more mixed in their meaning than Natalie's are. There's playfulness in them dolphins, but the orcas toss in a little treachery just for kicks. You're game though, and stay on deck and get sprayed, first with water, then with fish, and eventually eels (ew!) What seemed like fun at first got a little out of hand. This is a trend in your dream overall. When someone comes to you with special needs you're the only one who lets yourself support them. Next thing you know you're offering up the largest of your family heirlooms to give them what they need and the burden has suddenly spilled over into the lives of others. Anthony, you're offering things that are not fully yours to give.

Then there's Kiran and her peeps moving in, plus the exodus of your own kin and others in and out of houses in general. Your concept of "home" and "household" are bit jostled here, with a trepidatious blend of stability and instability. Your relationship with Kiran is complicated, and your perception is that she hears about your life and its challenges, but she doesn't always witness what's going on with you first-hand. Maybe she's not always there when you need her. Complicated. Yet you remain cordial to the end, even as you thrash around on the ground with eels up your armpits, balancing the responsibilities of work and relationships and helping people and trying to figure out what "home" is an with whom, and then the neighbors come a knockin' and instead of saying, "CAN"T YOU PEOPLE SEE I'M FREAKING BUSY?!?" you're just like, "Um, mother and father have stepped out for the moment—would you accept a rain check?"

Anthony, it doesn't have to be that complicated. Look at Natalie's dream—isn't it nice? You can have all that sense of wonder and adventure without dealing with so many complexities. Yes I know, there is bound to be the occasional killer whale mixed in with the dolphins. In an emergency, you can always turn to Beth Nixon's famously amazing Palindrome Calendar for advice (excerpted at the very top of this post) though you may need to hone some serious tightrope skills before attempting this—no better place than in your dreams!