To dream . . . ---7/19/98

Cassiel C. MacAvity

      "I dreamed, I met a Galilean . . ."


      I woke up around 7 something AM, noted the time, and rolled back over again . . .

      I dreamed . . . .


      Underneath constantly cloudy skies, and with very recent rain, I and some people I have no direct memory of had been travelling cross country in one of the relatively new truck cars that have been coming out in the last few years . .

      We had left a Huge population of others---where all I remember about the population is some huge construct, building, Something, with rounded rectangular black roof panels---, but A) we were travelling a large loop out with the intent to go back, and B) it's not clear if the large population was a set location and space, or if it was even a **Huge** convoy in the middle of it's own travels---imagine the population of the bay area, but as if all of us were travelling across the Eurasian continents in a single group.


      The first scene I remember is that we had stopped at a gas station on a military base. The station was in the civilian section, and in the middle of, was part of, a very civilian mall, but it was definitely on a base. I remember that as I was standing outside the car, staring out across the wet pavement, that the comment was made that I would definitely stand out among all the military, what with beard and long hair. I was matter- of-factly dressed in a set of forest camouflage fatigues, so I commented that for some in the military, a beard and long hair are normal, so I'd fit in just fine.

      Then we were inside a building, I think the kitchen of a house, maybe we were having or had just had dinner, and my chiropractor, who I only Just recently first worked with, was carving out slices of some odd looking pie. The pie was definitely for dessert, but as if along with having some sort of fruit filling, this pie also had slices of unmelted cheese over . . . ?bits of meat? . . There was some conversation, discussion, going on while the pie was being served, but all I remember is that the conversation was, not it's contents.

      I was then, seemed to be, out in ?the living room?, and someone asked what time it was. I looked at my watch and announced that it was, as I recall, 2 something, in the afternoon, and the chiropractor said, No, it's 8 something. I went to the phone in the kitchen to call popcorn, to check the time, and not only could I not get the call to go through, but I finally noticed that not only did the phone have at least two sets of numbers, it had a whole collection of other buttons as well . . . with a belated thought after I woke up that such a collection of buttons sort of resembles some radios or electronic organizers that have been coming on the market.

      I was then in a huge warehouse sized building/room, sitting off on the side with a coworker from a different department of tenspeed. (He runs sales, I'm second in command of returns, the rapist, for that matter, is the problem child at the bottom rung over away in package shipping, and I actually don't work with this coworker that much, his and my departments do different things.) It was known that the coworker had been . . . off in some back room---but I don't know where the back room was--- trying to get some sleep, but unable to do so, so he had come out to . . . wherever "here" was . . While we were sitting there, I pulled out of my bag a book that this last week at work had turned up out of the blue in a return and given to me, a book of parody history. As I was showing it to the coworker, the power in the building flickered two or three times, as if the main power supply got hit somehow, staggered, and died, and the backup power supply kicked on when main power finally died.

      (I'm getting a headache right now, as if someone's trying to shove a thumb through my left temple)

      When the power flickered, the coworker commented, as I recall, evidently referring to the outages, an almost joking, "They won't let me get anything done."

      Next, I was back outside, with the clouds still solid and grey, the ground still wet. I don't remember this being specifically back at the gas station, but Near it comes to mind, especially from the look of the pavement. At some point, I think it was while here, I was worried about the timing of getting back to the others that we had all split off from, where I wasn't certain what time we were supposed to be leaving, either by not being certain what time it was, or by not being certain how much longer we were supposed to be at the base.

      (my headache is getting worse, with some pain turning up on the right)

      As I was looking across the pavement, seeing if the pavement was still just wet, or if a slight downhill slope of it actually had a sheet of water washing across it, I had the final chorus of a recording of Harry Chapin's "Mr. Tanner"(1) suddenly pop into my head. My immediate thought was that I wished I had brought the CD along with me on this trip, so that I could play the song, but that it was indeed back somewhere with my stuff, or back where I was staying, in my room---but not necessarily the room I'm writing this in . . .

      And at some point here or later was the geographical image or information that yes, the pavement was sloping because the military base was build on the mid altitude, but still Fairly level, sides of a really Large mountain . . . shaped rather like a volcano . . .


      And at that point I woke up. It was 9 something, and in a short bit the alarm I had left set at 10:00 from the day before went off. I just Lay there, trying to sort everything out, as, as I said, I Just Sleep---if there are dreams, I don't remember them---With Occasional distinct Exceptions . . . .


      And at sometime around 10:40 I guess, while awake, with no emotional flashes, and nothing to it but the imagery, I got an image of being at what was known to be the Doubletree [Hotel, in San Jose, a site popular with Science Fiction, et al., conventions.], looking out the window of a second or third story window, when the outside landscape about a half mile, mile away suddenly started to lift up, and up, and up, Rather as if someone set of a really Big bomb just underneath it . . . and I blitzed away from the window, through the door, and across the corridor to the opposite hotel room door where, once through it, I announced to the inhabitants---and some hackers I know who Are unjustifiably Not liked by some baycon [an SF convention] staff were the ones who came to mind---"Brace for collision, we're about to be hit by a wall of debris." . . .



      (1) "Mr. Tanner" tells of an Ohio dry-cleaner and amateur singer who sings scales and assorted songs at work and sings at, oh, local shows, the county fair, and such. His friends finally convince him to try doing a show in New York and the critical response is that he can sing, but, hey, so can a lot of others. Back home, he never tells what the reaction is, and while he sings quietly in his shop Late at night, he never does another show.

      The recording I have is from a live concert with a background singer who sang counterpoint to Chapin's chorus, the background indented below. If you're familiar with it, yes, the counterpoint chorus is from the Christmas carol "Oh Holy Night".

            The chorus that wasn't just remembered in the dream, but was **Blaring** in my head in the dream is;

                     Oh fall on your knees
(But) music was his life,
                     Oh, Heeeaar
It was not his livelihood,
                     the angel
and it made him feel so happy,
and it made him feel so good,
                     Oh night,
and he sang from his heart
                     oh night,
and he sang from his soul
                     oh night,
he did not know how well he sang, it just made him whole.
                     oh night divine . . . .

The Curia

© 1998 Cassiel C. MacAvity