aftermath

we dream, we create, we change, we love

Archive for the ‘oneirra’ Category

on th wsj fold

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i was showing one of our board members how we used to roll up th wsj up into a cylinder for reading on th train, demonstrating how that made th stories flow in a continuous river

then i told my colleague that i had only been teasing, despite how my demonstration had in fact made th stories in th paper flow. i then unrolled th paper and showed th wsj fold as we did actually read our papers on th train. as i did so, th stories cam alive much as they had done with th cylinder i’d made, except as a continuous slide show that made each page leap out like a web page with links that opened automatically in dimensions above and below th page and into other dimensions that wound into our heads

Written by macheide

15 December 2017 at 7:06 am

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on bernie’s paintings

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a new movie was coming out soon, to be called Hall, a dark mysterious tale meant more to lead the mind of a viewer into his own mind rather than into its own story, i knew where it was going as though i had already been there and looked forward to its release for th doorway of going there again

bernie’s hall

Written by macheide

12 December 2017 at 6:47 am

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that familiar tunnel

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i went from room to room of th house
looking for a chair where i could sit and think in peace,
but every room was busy

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Written by macheide

1 June 2015 at 5:58 am

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red air over th wall

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over a high wall running endlessly in either direction two mobs of opposing peoples of th same village were locked in violent conflict with historical roots long forgotten. often splatters of blood would fill th air like in a quentin tarantino movie

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Written by macheide

31 May 2015 at 7:02 am

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recursively abusively played

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a large brutish man was repeatedly abusing a small young woman verbally, physically and sexually. i couldn’t understand what would be inside a man that he could treat a woman that way

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Written by macheide

23 April 2015 at 6:58 am

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audibly wired

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i had been reading a dream a man dreamed of coming to heaven, only to find that wires to everything were visible all over th place, everything connected up with wire on wire on wire. at first he was rather surprised and troubled, even almost judgmental as if life on earth had improved on heaven by graduating to wireless. until he realized th power source to which all heaven’s wires were connected and understood that th visibility of heaven’s wires were only that his eyes had been opened to th connections that had always been there even before he had gone there, how there was no “real” wire there in heaven but rather that he had come to a visual understanding of th live connection to th central power

i was recalling having read of that dream as i was taking my seat beside th leader of a small discussion group, serving as unofficial co-leader with th implicit expectation that i would be leading th group after th leader moved on. just as our meeting was about to begin she turned around with a critical comment about th radio station that had been playing background music, since they’d started playing a christmas song, although we were clearly now at least a month past th season when airing holiday music was generally done. but with a comment about th man’s dream of heaven’s wires, i promised that they could anticipate hearing me begin singing christmas music at times throughout th entire year, as but one way to recognize that those wires were always there, open and active and working year-round, if but to acknowledge that in much th same way as every moment can connect via a “wire” to th central christmas moment, likewise was everything else we do so wired

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Written by macheide

4 March 2015 at 8:01 am

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dirt cheap

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at a meeting of th men of th community i passed around a hat, collected $17, which turned out was enough to purchase th local minor league baseball team. from th back of th room came al’s voice reminding us, “we do own th field…”

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Written by macheide

2 March 2015 at 11:15 pm

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Wake-Up Call

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we were winding up at th pool and gathering our things for catching th plane back home from th conference, but as i turned from packing up one thing i kept finding that what i’d packed up before had gone missing, someone would steal it away from me when i wasn’t looking, until even my wallet was gone along with everything i needed to board th plane

i was on my way to th plane anyway, hoping to somehow settle about being robbed although i was already having difficulty proving who i was without my drivers license. suddenly i was accosted by two militant women holding knives and guns to my face, demanding money and anything else i had worth robbing. when i tried to point out to them that i’d already been robbed of everything, they had a third woman who was working with them who shot warning shots from a hideout among th buildings lining th street

by th time i managed to break free of them i was completely naked. i had lost hope of even remembering which hotel room was mine by now, but hoped to recognize it if i were to ride up the hotel elevator. as th elevator door opened i shrank back against th wall in case anyone would be coming out, worried about being seen. a woman exited th elevator and began walking toward th hotel lobby, but halfway down th hall she turned and saw me, so then went screaming down into th hotel calling for security personnel. in th reflection of th glass in th elevator i could see for th first time what had frightened her so – my face was very badly bruised and i was bloody all over. i quickly entered th elevator hoping to disappear before anyone came, but another woman entered th elevator to go up just as th doors were closing. she seemed to take pity on my plight so i looked to her for help, but it turned out that she wanted to take advantage of my predicament to force me into a relationship with her that i didn’t want

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Written by macheide

25 February 2015 at 11:07 pm

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In Defense of the Lay

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concerned that a position he was advocating would not prevail against sophisticated opposition we were mounting through our lobbying organizations, a legislative staffer decided on a strategy of filing a lawsuit against us accusing us of practicing law without a license by virtue of th legal nature of the legislation we were promoting. his challenge was taken seriously enough by my colleagues that in a secret meeting they were all in favor of suspending our initiative. i alone urged continuing our efforts and i vowed to persist even if as a group they decided to abandon their project, even if they were to disassociate from me when i continued my own efforts, even if they themselves tried to bar me from continuing my own efforts, even if i remained alone

i gave a speech about how th ordinary everyday person ought be encouraged to participate in any way in th recommendation and support of legislation, even to the extent of recommending th exact language that was to go into th law, lest we become a society ruled by th very elite. i reminded them that our country was founded by men and women who were not lawyers. that while non-lawyers certainly ought not practice law in judging and carrying out th law many certain circumstances, just as we don’t look to lawyers to be th police who enforce our laws, likewise th making of laws must not be th exclusive province of lawyers

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Written by macheide

17 January 2015 at 7:05 am

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Not Going Shoeless

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love your dreams and you will love your mind

after our concert, i changed into my street clothes and gathered my things – my instrument and th tux they’d bought each performer and th luggage i’d brought along after checking out of my room before the performance – ready to head to th bus for our trip home

outside th streets of boston already had a thin layer of snow from th blizzard forecast to be coming in

but before our chartered bus arrived, i hesitated – i couldn’t remember packing th fine dress shoes they had bought each performer, to go along with th tux. so i returned to th room where we’d prepared for our concert then packed up after, only to find th area already occupied by th next group who’d leased th conference center, a craft show

i could visualize in one swift glance all of th scenes my dream ought to have then been progressing through, as i looked down to realize th reason i’d not packed my dress shoes had been because i was wearing them

[& woke on th thought of how unusual it was for me to be heading back out to th bus instead of endlessly searching on and on and getting sidetracked on distraction after distraction and being unable to find anyone who might know where lost items could be found and all sorts of other frustrations . . . for once, i had everything i needed to have, that being so unusual that i hadn’t even bothered to look to th first place my shoes were most likely to be]

Bumper Sticker [www.internetbumperstickers.com/] - oneirra

Written by macheide

30 September 2014 at 6:01 pm

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Just Joking, Just Dreaming

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paul’s friends wanted us to go out “crashing bars” – not just cruising around to several of th local drinking holes, but leaving each of them in shambles from raw rowdiness. paul had grown more settled since those college rituals and seemed reluctant because of what pat might say, so we paused plans at an impasse. during th interlude i slipped off to my fave area in th place where we then were, returning with a cheeky grin and holding a plate exhibiting its own form of shambles, chuckling at myself as i told paul and his friends, “i crashed th salad bar”

An Adrien joke in a dream? Yes, it’s about as bad as any of my waking jokes, so dull as to not even be thought of by anyone else as a joke. “Threads,” Suzi would say, for how those all keep getting crossed in my head in frequently odd nonsensical ways. But there is at least a smidge of what countless puns and many other jokes use as their hinge: use of a word — in the case of my dream, two words, “crash” and “bar” — in a different, unexpected way with an odd connection that usually gives some amusing implied meaning to the original definition of the word. And although such odd connections are so commonplace in dreams as to be the essence of a dream, I can’t recall ever before telling a joke in any of my dreams. I wonder, do people like Woody Allen or Steve Martin frequently tell jokes in their own dreams?

Bumper Sticker [www.internetbumperstickers.com/] - oneirra

Written by macheide

20 July 2014 at 5:58 am

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on visits back

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back visiting high school, all th old teachers gone except mr mauger, who was standing outside his classroom while students in halls coming in. walked around, knowing nobody else, passed th office but then came back around to mauger’s room just as they were settling, asked if he remembered me, he did. small classrooms like office cubicles, each teacher with only 5-6 students sitting at an L-shaped around th teacher. mauger asked me to introduce myself, my statement that i was an actuary felt very distant as i was saying it, my followup comments about th math i’d taken in high school felt even more distant. th students watched me like i was as foreign as if i’d come from an unknown country

i was with a group of actuarial students discussing th actuarial exams. i recalled that i had never managed to pass th final exam, but knew from what they were planning for th next round that i would again fall one short

i headed down some winding empty skyscraper canyons, very dark. near th end, a long curved bus making turns in tightly enclosed spaces, only able to navigate th final turn because of th curvature of th vehicle

i went to purchase a bus ticket. inside th bus terminal were seats at kiosks. i sat down at one to make my purchase, then realized i did not recall my code for my credit card, so stood back up

i wanted to phone susan to remind me of my forgotten credit card code, but forgot th code to unlock my cell phone. th phone did give me a courtesy 5-minute call, i got through to susan, she looked up my credit card code, which was 11, but could not find my cell phone code before before i noticed a spider web had been spun on my bicycle

i got distracted from th phone call and lost it as i kicked away th web, then looked for where th spider itself might be. it was still there hanging just below th handlebars, angry that i had destroyed its webwork. its body was almost as big as my head, and with long thick legs it spread out almost as big as half my own entire size. i tried to kick at it to keep it away from me. people who lived in th house near th bus terminal came to see what th commotion was, worried that th neighborhood spider they called some friendly nickname might be getting in trouble

instead of th bus, i boarded a ship like th old sailing ships from over two centuries ago. th captain had only a first mate and two crewmen, those three in th water intending to head for shore leave. th captain gave them last warning that we were set to sail, but they ignored him, figuring he could not sail th ship on his own without them. when it became clear he intended to try, th first mate swam after th ship and struggled to climb up th stern side, but th other two crewmen just treaded water and watched th boat depart. which it did lurching side to side into th piers, since they were at least correct that th captain could not manage th ship on his own without assistance

i arrived at th lc auditorium, which only had half a dozen people although it was time for th evening service to begin. i rode my bicycle down th aisle, then around to th right. i sat in th middle of a pew near th side doors, then moved over in th pew so th row could fill as more people came. after moving over enough, i was over on th left side of th room. a woman came through th pew in front of us, handing out attendance cards. i was handed one, th woman saying, “we need your signature on this, mister labombard” (yes, pronounced as used to be back when i attended lc). surprised that anyone had recognized me, i asked th two young women next to me who that woman was. those two had never met me but had heard stories of me and were pleased to have th opportunity to meet me, told me th name of th woman who had handed out th attendance cards [that name forgotten as i woke from th dream, but i think it was th woman who had been jean’s best friend during high school and bju years]

Written by macheide

29 July 2009 at 5:58 am

Posted in oneirra

on wayne’s tennis game

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on a tennis court at college with wayne. every time i would serve to him, i would cringe back as he prepared to smash it back at me as hard as he could. but he always wound up hitting th balls wildly outside th fencing, ball after ball after ball, over fifty spread out over th grass and in th lake

Written by macheide

27 July 2009 at 4:04 am

Posted in oneirra

on my final day

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we were well into the afternoon before i realized it was our final day, that i needed to clean everything up, pack up my own things to go and organize th files and things that belonged to my employer. there seemed at first too much to clean up, but it went well, th messy-looking collection of papers and stuff quickly dissolving into a few minor things at th edge of th wall

although i was bothered a little that i might not have adequately completed all of my assignments, we had all graduated successfully

as i organized th remaining items that needed to be left behind, i realized that there was very little if anything that i’d not completed. all that was left was some old equipment that hadn’t worked for a long time and would probably get thrown out by th next person to sit at my desk, but i boxed it up right all th same

i phoned my father to arrange to be picked up with my belongings. although this trip ought to have been long expected and high on his priority list, he was preoccupied talking with jim about some other uncertain distraction he was thinking of attending to first

i rode with some classmates in a very full car to some pre-graduation events. did anyone know when th graduation ceremony would actually be held, i wondered aloud. nobody seemed to know, except that it would be held about a week or two from now

back near our campus, other students were still milling around, celebrating th close of th school year. with my father still occupied, i thought of hitching a ride home with my belongings with th people i’d been riding around with. with th car already quite stuffed with all of us in, it seemed odd to think that all of us might also manage to get all of our luggage in too, but i could picture it being done without too much trouble

it was brought to my attention that our professor had already lined up some of th key cases to be settled th next term, had assigned them to my protege, was hoping that i might also be willing to add a word or two of advice, but hadn’t wanted to impose on me by asking. my protege was excited to be looking forward to th opportunity of filling my position th following year, encouraged me to feel free to help out. i felt like it was still morning of our final day, so that maybe we could look over th scheduled cases now and share some initial thoughts before th close of th school day, but was told it had already been 5pm when we were dismissed earlier, so that it must be at least 5pm. i shrugged and suggested that we could still at least get some early work done on overtime, before th closed up th place for th night. but i did ask again if anyone actually knew when graduation day would be. and made it clear that i would not spend th intervening time on these cases, that i was planning to go on a total holiday, nothing planned, nowhere special to go, and that i would be accepting no new assignments or duties or even diversions during that period

my protege’s intense interest in taking my mantle concerned me a little. i advised him that while i had been good at my math, my peak had been at or around age 14, back in 9th grade, that all my math since then had been a struggle to learn and a hardship to apply. that although i had been blessed to have work that i enjoyed, and that i had in fact done well with pensions, it was not really what i would have wanted to do, that i would have rather have written poetry for a living

[side note: suziq and i may have switched dreams last night. today will be her final day performing regular babysitting services. whereas her dreams were of a fat nekkid man]

Bumper Sticker [www.internetbumperstickers.com/] - oneirra

Written by macheide

17 July 2009 at 4:04 am

Posted in oneirra

on a nomic moment

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walking along a sidewalk [like on upper main street of royersford] with a young woman who was attempting to take over a woman’s club which i had helped to found [in th dream, me seeming to be a respected elderly woman, but with no apparent sexual or gender implications seeming to be attached to that switch other than th association to having helped found th organization in question]

th younger woman was advising me of a rule change to th organization’s bylaws, which would require that all charter members who had been granted membership prior to a particular date [that date specifically stated within th dream, but not remembered upon waking] would lose their membership

i strongly protested, objecting that while charter members had th power to enact such a rule, non-charter members such as this woman and her allies had no such power

[within th dream itself, i thought about how similar this felt to nomic, an intriguing game based on amendment of th game itself, which i myself once played in real life in late 1982 under th original ruleset]

[during half-sleep while waking to go to th bathroom – th time being around 4am – i felt th situation and its nomic parallel to be an allusion to gene kalwarski and his fight with th powers that be at milliman and among other large actuarial firms]

Bumper Sticker [www.internetbumperstickers.com/] - oneirra

Written by macheide

11 July 2009 at 4:04 am

Posted in oneirra

on borrowed dreaming

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into a locker room bathroom in th back corner of th tlr house, having difficulty aiming trying to use th bathroom, shutting th door after wayne passed on his way to th usual bathroom

[at this point, within th dream and without leaving sleep, i decided that everything that preceded – which i could still recall fully at that point – was not my dream, but had rather been given to me by mistake: none of it – even tlr, even wayne – was connecting up with anything me. so like one might turn in one book at a library and check out another, without even putting th dream on pause, i closed out that dream and called up another]

hours of walking far distances outdoors. vividly sensing that what i was walking on was not th grass i was meant to walk on, but rather just a very large stiff piece of discarded cardboard on which someone had scribbled a very poor drawing of what was supposed to be grass

chipping a fingernail, picking at it without getting it even, filing it down until th cut in th nail became more evident against th smooth filed edge, picking at that cut until i’d opened up a huge gap in th nail, clipping down either side around that and trying to file it smooth again, on and on without ever getting it to look or feel right

vertigo in an elevator not well connected up to th high floor i needed to reach

[all of which felt detached from me as though th scene – not me, but the scene itself – were heavily medicated. waking somewhat irritated over feeling i’d wasted a night of dreaming, first on large segments that still did not feel as though they had been my own dreaming, then on dreaming that felt as if it had been only marginally coherent]

Bumper Sticker [www.internetbumperstickers.com/] - oneirra

Written by macheide

18 June 2009 at 4:04 am

Posted in oneirra

on chase

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riding th jersey commuter train in and back out repeatedly, without ever getting either to work or to home [not a typical frustration dream, such as when i can’t manage to get th correct numbers for a phone call; rather, simply never got to one end of th line before it was time to head back th other direction]

special coins back in change from th man who sold newspapers and coffee. i’d been th only one to talk with him and tip him for my coffee, so he began including rare coins he’d found over th years in what he gave me as change, such as one silver dollar on which th mint neglected to stamp a date and another silver dollar where th design was about 10 times too big so that only a portion of it showed on th coin

in th background, i heard th kingston trio’s new irish brogue [within th dream i recognized th song as one i’d never heard before, so while still dreaming i strove to remember it so maybe i could bring it outside th dream, then sure enough it was singing – music quite clear, some of th words still intact – during the early activities of my morning after waking]

“chase is mad at me” you said [i could feel myself waking over concern at this, so tried to remain asleep and in th dream in order to find out why. neither still dreaming nor yet consciously awake, my thinking was that chase was mad at you because they had discovered that you had set up a new credit card under another name, because you were concerned that you needed to establish an independent financial identity, in th event that i might leave as you were fearing i would]

Bumper Sticker [www.internetbumperstickers.com/] - oneirra

Written by macheide

15 June 2009 at 4:04 am

Posted in oneirra