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Dream 12-9-15

December 9, 2015

I’ll talk around this dream a bit. I had had a good day, including, oddly, posting my face on facebook, with the result that I heard from great friends, including Barbara C W from all the way back in our undergrad days at Miami of OH.

But then I was having an uncomfortable night, mostly because my legs ached. Probably I sat too much yesterday, reading and writing, so didn’t get any exercise—and probably I’ll do the same today, but then yoga tonight (which of course will cause its own aches). And then I became hypnogogically aware that there were high winds and driving rain going on. And I was a bit chilly, but couldn’t wake up enough to add a blanket. Turns out the temp in my bedroom had dropped a bit because the storm was being caused by a warm front that kept the temp, outdoors and in the rest of the house, high enough that the thermostat didn’t click.

Then this longish dream probably got started at around 4 a.m. I was a grad student but also teaching in my first regular faculty position. I had some conversations with colleagues who wandered in and out, and especially with Bernie S, who was [in real time—one of the nice things about this dream was the way it mixed memory (maybe with desire but definitely) with fiction] a young English prof and struggling poet when I was at Miami. I didn’t take a class with him, but I knew him somewhat at faculty parties to which I was sometimes invited. He had drunkenly driven me back to Oxford from a country pub one night; and I learned, about a decade later, that he had driven himself at high speed into a tree along that road, “leaving behind” as they say, a wife and four kids and no life insurance; two decades after that, I randomly picked up a copy of a medical journal that sometimes published a poem or literary essay and found a poem by working-class poet Philip Levine (who just died this year, age 87), about growing up in industrial Detroit, and suddenly there was the name of his boyhood friend, Bernie S.

I was having trouble getting all of my work done. I had a conversation about it with my dissertation director [real time], Ed Cady. Then I was standing in the bathroom of a friend/colleague’s house, looking at a large batch of papers in my hands. The “writing” was all actual writing. They were papers that I had to grade, and course papers that I had to finish writing; and on top of that I had to figure out how I was going to find time to take my prelims and finish writing my dissertation.

But then I thought, wait a minute, haven’t I, in fact, already passed my prelims and finished my dissertation? I was still dreaming, but I was beginning to wake up. Then I was awake and realized that I had been dreaming, and I thought, ah yes, good thing, I’ve already passed my prelims and finished my dissertation. Long ago.

It was still dark outside, when in the summer the sun would be up, and it was very pleasant lying there in the dark. My legs stopped aching, and the wind and rain had let up, and I decided to get up and make some coffee and write this down.

As I started typing just now, a very strong wind has come up again, out there in the dark, driving the rain against the window, from the west and the ocean. Now there is even lightning and thunder, which was a staple of my life in IN but is a rarity out here in Seattle—but maybe that is changing.

[Update 8 a.m. Much blue sky, for the first time in days.  Humps of clouds (over the Olympic Range) in the west seem to be moving off to the north.]

From → dreams, Uncategorized

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