caused by the wide grin on a friend's face, after he caught me after a winded chase!
We were high in some landscape, near the cloud forest, having travelled there by bus (much like the bus ride I took on the Central American Hwy in Costa Rica years ago). At one of the stops, my friend, Sophia, was making tortillas (naan?) in a clay pit in the ground, and feeding them to the passengers.
A fellow traveler began singing a Love Syndicate tune, (let's see if I remember which one today- I did! Name that Tune), and before I could say, "Hey, I know the guy who wrote that song!", there was Josh (#2, from Philly), on the bus! Everyone was happy to see him, and he sat next to me and gave me hug after hug.
We finally reached our destination. A mountain ridge, high plateau - Andes? Himalayas? No snow, no cold, but desolate.
There were building blocks the size of cars stacked in all types of configurations, reminiscent of a Salvador Dali painting.
Suddenly the stark landscape became an immense children's playground, surrounded by woods. Josh, Lenny, and I started chasing each other, and when Josh caught me, he had the most satisfied grin on his face, I laughed so hard I was rolling on the ground.....that's when I woke up!
We were high in some landscape, near the cloud forest, having travelled there by bus (much like the bus ride I took on the Central American Hwy in Costa Rica years ago). At one of the stops, my friend, Sophia, was making tortillas (naan?) in a clay pit in the ground, and feeding them to the passengers.
A fellow traveler began singing a Love Syndicate tune, (let's see if I remember which one today- I did! Name that Tune), and before I could say, "Hey, I know the guy who wrote that song!", there was Josh (#2, from Philly), on the bus! Everyone was happy to see him, and he sat next to me and gave me hug after hug.
We finally reached our destination. A mountain ridge, high plateau - Andes? Himalayas? No snow, no cold, but desolate.
There were building blocks the size of cars stacked in all types of configurations, reminiscent of a Salvador Dali painting.
Suddenly the stark landscape became an immense children's playground, surrounded by woods. Josh, Lenny, and I started chasing each other, and when Josh caught me, he had the most satisfied grin on his face, I laughed so hard I was rolling on the ground.....that's when I woke up!
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i cant take this anymore
because i am dying from lack of color
you say that i am color blinded
but i think you have lost your mind this time
your sunshine graced my head today
you have taken me away
and i cant take much more of this
your sunshine graced my head today
and you have taken me away
and i cant take seven days of this
im out oh but im only out of words
im losing oh all my thoughts that go unheard
then you say that im a color blinded
but i think that i am sure
that we have lost your mind this time and...
wasted in you, you can kill with desire
im tempted oh by all the things
that i let pass me by
then you say, that i am color blinded
but i think that i am sure
that you we have lost our minds this time and....
© 1999 . joshua komorowski
Journeying to the mountains seems to imply analytical discovery. Mountains are up high. There's not trees or water, things that imply emotion. It's a place where you have perspective. The giant cubes, nice platonic shapes, also seem to point to things categorized and understood.
And then it turns to all this childhood images of playgrounds and playing tag. These are part of our life when we're first social.
So, from the start, I'd say that there's some decision you've come to after some thought (journey to the elevated region with the blocks) which has led to a social emergence, and I'd say there's a feeling of contentment with the whole process.
This is interpretation for entertainment sake, mind you, closer to tarot cards or horoscopes (and I don't feel any particular kinship with fellow October births) than to an actual, serious observation.
I thought that Josh K. was only in my dream because last night I related a story that involved him to some mutual friends. Another gal once said to me, "he's so gorgeous, don't you just want to throw him down and f@#k him?". To which I immediately responded, "NO!", because my friendship with him meant more than that. I have too respect for both him and myself to objectify him. Beauty that radiates from within is far more precious.
J.K. and I have had a couple of deep discussions, and I have to give him some credit for helping to guide me towards being more content with myself. Ultimately, though, only I can find the answers, but it helps to have tutors! His best advice: "Be DECISIVE, and look people in the eyes!"
So I am on my way to see Love Syndicate play at the Saxon 'cause they are in town, but I called and told Josh about the dream - he laughed, too!
The desolate mountains without cold or snow reminds me of the Sandias (except during winter, when there's cold and snow). Did they look anything like this?
I call the Sandias desolate, but they were really pretty. I miss seeing them outside every window.
One thing that sticks out was the orientation and time of day. In my dreamscape snapshot, I was standing in the left foreground, facing towards the southeast. The ridge stretched out to my right. The sun was just rising, and the sky was painted in brilliant hues of blue, pink, and purple.
http://www.garyregnerphotography.com/sunset.htm
I work with Gary at TCEQ, and I had seen this picture before. Definitely influenced my dream...
Engineer Pass is pretty. Okay, it's up by Durango. I've always wanted to see that area.
But I digress...there are two recurring houses in my dreams. The earliest one is a vague memory of a house my dad worked on out in the middle nowhere, with a little of the house from Burnt Offerings (Karen Black, 1976). The second is heavily influenced by the Daphne DuMarier and Victoria Holt novels of my prepubescent summer reading frenzies. Lots of glass windows, greenhouses, and willow trees. Yellow and green hues....
Interesting, I have been through Lizard Head Pass (and Albuquerque, for that matter) on my way to Telluride, but never Engineer Pass.
This brother is going to be the father of twins any minute now.
I have great memories of that place. The first raspberries I had were wild ones I picked there. It's the only place where I've ever fished and cuaght fish.
Incredibly beautiful there. I planned on moving there after graduation, but other things turned out different than I hoped, still good.
I will always remember stepping out of the freezing cold San Miguel River, breathless, but exhilarated. It was after the semester I had aquatic entomology, and I thought it would be exciting to sample what I thought was a pristine river. Turns out there are some old mine tailings upstream, which I thought was just a snow covered hill.
I took the waders Morgan had bought me that Christmas, and some sampling gear I borrowed from my professor's lab. What I neglected to realize was that I would have to thrust my hands into the icy cold water to run the seine net! I did manage to find some cool bugs, though!
That's great that you also have some great memories of Telluride. Not many people I know have been there, it's fairly remote, I guess.
So are you going to be an uncle for the first time? Will you be making a trip out to Tennessee to see them soon?
It's a big deal that Chris is having a kid though. On his father's side, we're breeding like rabbits, but he has a different mother from me, Mary Jo Henderson. Mary Jo had only one son. Her mother only had two children, and one of them is sterile. Her parents only had one child. So, for four generations back, Chris was looking like the last chance for the Hendersons, and he and Sally were ready to stop trying.
So, it's a cause for celebration, even if my own bloodline barely notices the increase.