by Drew Martin
I had a series of lucid dreams last night. I remember only the end of the one that I woke up from but there were three longer dreams that stood out. In the first one I was trying to get a special ticket to go somewhere in New York City. People were waiting in line by a polished marble wall with recessed brass plates. When it was my turn, I could not figure out any of the analog dials. It was all foreign to me; nothing made sense. A woman, with whom I had a conversation at the station earlier in the dream, appeared and helped me. She pulled the ticket-vending machine contraption out of the wall. It folded down and revealed a seismograph type device, a long brass cylinder, and something like a diddley bow. She explained that this helped translate information for Chinese-speaking commuters. I was fascinated how one, taught wire could mimic tones of the Chinese language.
In another dream I had been hanging paintings in the unfinished basement of my work building. When I went down to look at them, I discovered that another tenant had actually turned the space into a gallery. A young woman named Sophonia was furious with me because she thought I was crashing her show. She chewed me out for a good ten minutes but started warming up to me after a while. I wondered if I should tell her about the hidden space she did not know about.
In the final dream I witnessed a purse snatcher in action. I stopped him and he flipped out, because he said that woman he stole the purse from was a spy. So then I grabbed her, and she pulled something out of her pocket which I thought she was going to use against me but it turned out to be a suicide pill that she ingested, which she called Ridersol.
I had a series of lucid dreams last night. I remember only the end of the one that I woke up from but there were three longer dreams that stood out. In the first one I was trying to get a special ticket to go somewhere in New York City. People were waiting in line by a polished marble wall with recessed brass plates. When it was my turn, I could not figure out any of the analog dials. It was all foreign to me; nothing made sense. A woman, with whom I had a conversation at the station earlier in the dream, appeared and helped me. She pulled the ticket-vending machine contraption out of the wall. It folded down and revealed a seismograph type device, a long brass cylinder, and something like a diddley bow. She explained that this helped translate information for Chinese-speaking commuters. I was fascinated how one, taught wire could mimic tones of the Chinese language.
In another dream I had been hanging paintings in the unfinished basement of my work building. When I went down to look at them, I discovered that another tenant had actually turned the space into a gallery. A young woman named Sophonia was furious with me because she thought I was crashing her show. She chewed me out for a good ten minutes but started warming up to me after a while. I wondered if I should tell her about the hidden space she did not know about.
In the final dream I witnessed a purse snatcher in action. I stopped him and he flipped out, because he said that woman he stole the purse from was a spy. So then I grabbed her, and she pulled something out of her pocket which I thought she was going to use against me but it turned out to be a suicide pill that she ingested, which she called Ridersol.