Hieroglyphs and Rufus Porter. I was at a place I knew in the dream to be Kate’s house. An imaginary one I half-remember from somewhere. Old, very spacious, some parts not totally renovated. Looking in an upstairs room with fascinating hieroglyph-type markings in the walls. I said unfortunately they don’t know who did these. Otherwise it could be like a Rufus Porter situation. Then I walked down their beautiful wide, but unvarnished, stairs. Almost like a mansion or royal palace feel. My arms were full with junk I’d been handed in the interesting upstairs room, including an old wooden tennis racket. Woven into that dream, I was at my NEBHE office typing out a memo on an old Wang computer I no longer remembered how to use.
Biting a Hijacker. I was landing in a 747, the imagined lounge section at the top, very smooth landing. But no one came to let us off. Felt like the Langoliers. Not mingling much with the fellow passengers until we were loaded onto a crowded elevator that got stuck between floors, but opened into another elevator where a crew of “hijackers” were leading us into a sort of container car toward a concentration camp. Made eye signals with another passenger to try to rebel. Actually bit one of them in the arm, an Asian woman, but it didn’t seem to hurt her. (See The Dreams Now Taste Like COVID.)
Jetlagged Dreams Upon Return from Croatia, Ukraine via Dublin. We were out with our friends, when I said I was tired of going to funerals. Joe asked if we were at the Joyce’s where he saw Heddy Gallstone. I wondered if she was someone I should know. Next dream, I walked my family behind the Cove School, where there was woods during my school days. But suburban McMansions now stand. To my surprise, there was a nice body of water there and my old Beverly friend Ross, whose house was now there, and some women from his neighborhood. I recall wetlands being diverted to make way for McMansions. One woman defensively said they chose the blue pond over a dirty brown brook (it was a suburban lesson in hydrology). I accidentally spilled a pail of dirt I was carrying on Ross’s floor
Quite a Paralytic. It must have been strong even without the paralytic they worried about from my ADEM adventure 10 years previous. It sure brought interesting dreams. First a one-day trip to NYC where Homeland Security was conducting a bioterror drill, which soon became a DHS conference with keynoters etc. I was also telling Joanne we should use the time to find a good ethnic restaurant close-by (even though we were in the 30s) and go visit a key landmark in the history of U.S. education that turned out to be not in NYC, but upstate. Couple nights later, entertained at Jack Hoy’s house, which had become a palace with a theater inside. I had a role in the production or the logistics of it.
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