In the midst of the traveling, I’ve been having the strangest dreams. Three of them hold tight in my memory, and occurred over the course of the past three nights. Since the first happened prior to my arrival in Istanbul, I can’t attribute them to the food here. Definitely isn’t the beer, which is marginal. But the facts they were so vivid, and have remained in my memory, made me think to jot them down.
Dream the First:
I was in a physical altercation with a female who was very close to me. The situation made it one person, but who I saw was another. Both shall remain nameless, and their current relationships to me unmentioned, since it was just so odd.
In the dream, I was enraged (for reasons unknown), and the woman was calm, and deliberate. And mean. Everything I did was countered with a cutting yet calm remark that only served to make me more angry. I finally found a papier-mâché thing (patterned in green and white, for whatever reason) that I dropped a chair one crushing it. That seemed to deflate her. She stopped all resistance and simply sagged, and said “Fuck.” I walked away, crying.
Dream the Second:
In this one, my (currently dead) father killed me. Yes, I died. So did he. He was driving the Phteven wagon. We entered a cul-de-sac and at the end, we needed to turn around again. Wrong way? Dunno. I didn’t seem to care one way or the other. There was snow on the ground and my perspective changed to an overhead view, and I watched as Dad drove onto the grass of the house and the end - as if he couldn’t turn tight enough. He the mowed down two arborvitae that were the end of a column of them leading to the house. I remember viewing the tire tracks as we drove away.
We exited the cul-de-sac, and made a left turn back onto the main road. We approached a descent, but Dad turned too quickly and we drove over a cliff.
I distinctly remember thinking “WTF, Dad?!”, as the car tumbled in the air. I then realized I was going to die, and then everything was a jumble. It looked like a movie to me, since that’s the imagery I know. No pain, but then there was nothing. For some period of perceived time, everything was a uniform gray. No sound, no sensation of touch, either. Then I woke - feeling more than a bit disturbed.
Dream the Third:
Ok, so this one was weird. (Like the first two weren’t.) It included large predatory cats, the running community I associate with, and word games. Good mix, eh? This one may be difficult to explain, but hey, I’m on holiday and I’ve got the time. Breakfast isn’t for another hour.
It started with a word game where everyone had to contribute to a story a word or a phrase at a time. The rules of the game were that each word had to be either six or four letters long, and alternating: a six-letter word had to follow a four-letter word, which itself followed a six-letter word. Got it?
I had come up with the cunning phrase “fucking daft wanker,” which was approved despite the first word having seven letters. I know, right? But hey, dream rules, like dream physics, don’t have to be consistent, now do they?
I thought of my entry as I approached an aid station staffed by a group of folks I run with. I was intercepted for a hug by one woman (YAY! Thanks Kaycee!), and was berated by another for not saying hi. In my defense, she didn’t exist when I approached, only after I was heading past. To my chagrin however, she is incredibly special to me and it hurt to appear to spurn her.
As happens in dreams, immediately after this, I was running (dunno why, but there was urgency) and I and others needed to cross a shallow draw. I think I was channeling Ash Canyon at this point. Anyway, the shallow draw morphed into a steep canyon with knife-edged ridges cutting across it. As we tried to slowly pick our way across, we encountered a group of five large predatory cats: three kits and two adults.
They looked like some sort of cross between a bobcat (tail) and snow leopard (coloration) but had the size of a tiger. At this point all I will say is sorry to Craig Young who was mauled next to me, and the rest of the aid station personnel. I woke up when the five cats attacked it.
Now it’s time for breakfast with great coffee. Then off to the bazaar. Normal stuff.
Dream the First:
I was in a physical altercation with a female who was very close to me. The situation made it one person, but who I saw was another. Both shall remain nameless, and their current relationships to me unmentioned, since it was just so odd.
In the dream, I was enraged (for reasons unknown), and the woman was calm, and deliberate. And mean. Everything I did was countered with a cutting yet calm remark that only served to make me more angry. I finally found a papier-mâché thing (patterned in green and white, for whatever reason) that I dropped a chair one crushing it. That seemed to deflate her. She stopped all resistance and simply sagged, and said “Fuck.” I walked away, crying.
Dream the Second:
In this one, my (currently dead) father killed me. Yes, I died. So did he. He was driving the Phteven wagon. We entered a cul-de-sac and at the end, we needed to turn around again. Wrong way? Dunno. I didn’t seem to care one way or the other. There was snow on the ground and my perspective changed to an overhead view, and I watched as Dad drove onto the grass of the house and the end - as if he couldn’t turn tight enough. He the mowed down two arborvitae that were the end of a column of them leading to the house. I remember viewing the tire tracks as we drove away.
We exited the cul-de-sac, and made a left turn back onto the main road. We approached a descent, but Dad turned too quickly and we drove over a cliff.
I distinctly remember thinking “WTF, Dad?!”, as the car tumbled in the air. I then realized I was going to die, and then everything was a jumble. It looked like a movie to me, since that’s the imagery I know. No pain, but then there was nothing. For some period of perceived time, everything was a uniform gray. No sound, no sensation of touch, either. Then I woke - feeling more than a bit disturbed.
Dream the Third:
Ok, so this one was weird. (Like the first two weren’t.) It included large predatory cats, the running community I associate with, and word games. Good mix, eh? This one may be difficult to explain, but hey, I’m on holiday and I’ve got the time. Breakfast isn’t for another hour.
It started with a word game where everyone had to contribute to a story a word or a phrase at a time. The rules of the game were that each word had to be either six or four letters long, and alternating: a six-letter word had to follow a four-letter word, which itself followed a six-letter word. Got it?
I had come up with the cunning phrase “fucking daft wanker,” which was approved despite the first word having seven letters. I know, right? But hey, dream rules, like dream physics, don’t have to be consistent, now do they?
I thought of my entry as I approached an aid station staffed by a group of folks I run with. I was intercepted for a hug by one woman (YAY! Thanks Kaycee!), and was berated by another for not saying hi. In my defense, she didn’t exist when I approached, only after I was heading past. To my chagrin however, she is incredibly special to me and it hurt to appear to spurn her.
As happens in dreams, immediately after this, I was running (dunno why, but there was urgency) and I and others needed to cross a shallow draw. I think I was channeling Ash Canyon at this point. Anyway, the shallow draw morphed into a steep canyon with knife-edged ridges cutting across it. As we tried to slowly pick our way across, we encountered a group of five large predatory cats: three kits and two adults.
They looked like some sort of cross between a bobcat (tail) and snow leopard (coloration) but had the size of a tiger. At this point all I will say is sorry to Craig Young who was mauled next to me, and the rest of the aid station personnel. I woke up when the five cats attacked it.
Now it’s time for breakfast with great coffee. Then off to the bazaar. Normal stuff.
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