dreamstate writing 5 April 2017
I was in a car passing through a long, lush valley bordered by tall mountains. The scene was lit by bright white light but I was not aware of a sun hanging in the firmament. Operating the vehicle was another person, a man, I think. We passed old stone structures nested together in medieval-style towns, moving eventually higher, onto a plain of flowing grasses devoid of structures.
As we gained in elevation I began to notice what appeared to be mines in the mountains to our right. Though we were a couple score miles away I could clearly see yawning circular caverns set deep into the soaring, rounded peaks. Broad collars of metal rimmed each gaping entrance. Emerging from these caverns and linking them together were networks of cables upon which rode tiny vehicles lit fore and aft with lights of varying colors.
The person with me asked if I wanted to see where the extracted materials were being processed. I said that I did, whereupon he and I were suddenly in a small room in which the aforementioned cables terminated. The materials - compressed into tiny cubes wrapped in plastic - were being fed into a large machine of some sort. A control panel took up the central third of the front of the contraption, complete with dials, levers, and screens displaying alphanumerics. A mechanism for weighing and moving the materials rotated in an ellipsis around the rest of the front of the machine. Borne on the aforementioned tiny vehicles, the materials entered the room on cables that ran through holes set into its right-hand wall. The conveyor featured catch-cups that were designed to split open and dump their contents into a metal-rimmed circular hole over which the machine sat. I reached forward and took a cube from one of the cups. It was very light but I sensed that it was of infinite size and unknowable density. I picked at its cellphone-like wrapper. It was stamped with decals of some sort that shimmered in the room’s diffuse light.
The hole into which the cubes dropped after having been weighed and counted opened and shut constantly via a sort of guillotine. The man with me said that in order for me to leave the room I would have to jump through that hole. I could tell that it was too small for my shoulders to fit through, however, and the speed at which it opened and shut was too fast for gravity to pull me through without my feet or head being chopped off. I hesitated, perplexed, then awoke.
americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥
I was again in a house, but this one had lots of windows as well as blond beams of wood exposed to a bright blue sky above. Its roof was gone in places although I was confident in the structure’s overall integrity. I’d gotten to the house after climbing a steep hill, meaning that I had been climbing a steep hill and then found myself inside the house. Unlike in previous dreams, the house was not too scary, dark, or replete with series of ever-smaller doors I felt compelled to crawl through until I was squeezed in so tightly I could not move. I experienced the sensation that the house was moving or rolling as if floating on high seas. For some reason, I climbed up onto the roof, discovering it was a hybrid between hill and house. A Buddhist temple and other shrines stood on the roof’s peak, and as I was walking along it I wondered where the hill had gotten to. To my left were other buildings, a quaint town constructed in a medieval European style. To my right was the hill, an impossibly steep mountain shrouded in mist. I was running past the temple toward the shrines at the roof’s far end when I awoke back into full consciousness.
© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥
Once under the highway near Universal is where does begin a magnificent hill. Its sidewalks are wide with green trees it abounds and thick are the shade-spots that dapple its grounds and rich is the reward that arrives at last when spying the peak of fair Cahuenga Pass. It’s rideable whenever daytime or night (now during the latter I switch on a light) and watch at the top for loose rocks on my right while pedaling madly with all of my might. Along it are fast-food booze cigarette shops dispensaries groomers yet few red-light stops; when southbound upon it people rarely turn lest they run smack into nature’s own rock-berm. Then… over! I’m over! by golly hot dog here comes some relief from that hard-churning slog my wits are about me though I dare not rest for slaloming traffic’s a demanding test. At some points are gravel at some points are holes I take over lanes lest I should be bulldozed by uncaring drivers who’re trying to shoot the gap between me and boulders thick with roots. I know not the name of the goddess whose is the honor of guarding the Cahuenga Pass but thank and applaud her for her loving hands that guide and protect all who pass through her lands.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
blog updated thrice weekly
Among other things I am barber, bicyclist, surfer, vagabond, writer, and yogi.