memories last longer than dreams
Dec. 31st, 2017 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yamamanama78 days until the vernal equinox
Friday was a longer than expected day but I did get an update from Rachel. She hasn't been able to talk to Leah in pretty much forever, so maybe I'll just have to wait until my serendipity builds up again after some other unexpected but brief reunions.
Intense days call for a triptych of intense dreams.
It's gotten to the point in which I realize I'm dreaming because Ashley is apologizing to me. And on cue, I woke up. If this ever happens in real life, I'm going to punch myself.
I had one of those dreams in which I'm not wearing any pants and I'm constantly self-conscious of that fact but at least I was able to conjure up a towel to wrap around my waist. I was wandering about a gray coastal town and someone gave me a box painted with abstract swirls of color against a black background. I tried to take someone's painted coins but he had none of that. Ashley explained to me why she had a problem with me and her reasons were obviously nonsense but she was happy with my apology anyway. I'm sure I knew I was dreaming at this point but the dreamworld is dreary but not an inferno. And I say something funny, which, in the real world, is probably completely nonsensical, and she hugs me in response and her friend hugs me too, and I'm still not waking up. Getting on treacherous barges is no problem. What woke me up is crawling into a really big lobster crate filled with technological wreckage and being attacked by a goose. Meanwhile, they're using a dead goose to bait some kind of seabird.
Last one before waking up, I'm trying to gather ten people to speak about hawks. A hawk leapt up on my shoulder and instead of the gonna-need-stitches-or-at-least-a-new-shirt blinding pain I'd imagine it would feel like in reality, it was a pinch. Leah showed up, wearing a colorful floral skirt and a plain-colored shirt, and one of her friends put an electrified towel on my shoulder that was apparently meant to jolt heartbeats back into regularity, and then she left and I ran after her but can't get to her. It's summer. It's green but rainy.
I do remember one of her bunnies was named George but I can't remember what the other one was named. It could be Spot. It probably wasn't.
The last time Gabriella was at the Peabody Essex Museum, there was an exhibit of wearable art and an exhibit of shoes.
She brought her parents and nephew (her sister wasn't present) with her. I've met Lisa but not Tom. A long time ago, Tom volunteered with the Blue Hills Trailside Museum.
Her nephew is enamored with photography and projected snowflakes. He saw Boston Baroque play Beethoven's 9th but says he doesn't remember it. I understand. I think I pointed this out once: I remember being aware that I now had a sister, who is 1064 days younger than me, and I remember the snake in the garden but I don't remember when that was, and I remember Hurricane Gloria but am pretty sure it was just an ordinary thunderstorm, and I remember wanting a dog but don't remember life before I had one.
Inside the Strand Theatre, it was merely freezing and not bonechillingly cold.
Gabriella said she saw a den of foxes in a graveyard near her home. I'm not sure how long ago; right now, the outside world is no place for the living.
The conductor pointed out that the horns Bach and Handel used in Water Music and the Brandenburg Concerto were basically just hunting horns without any of those fancy valves and tubing, and pointed out that one of the movements called for what Bach called a violino piccolo, which is an even smaller and higher violin, but neglected to say what a violone is (that is to say, a large viol) or that a violoncello is just another name for the cello.
The first Brandenberg Concerto was one of the earliest use of horns in an orchestra.
Water Music was put there to take our minds off of the infernal cold. It was written for a July day on the River Thames.
Händel's Gloria is an earlier work that he wrote while still in Germany that was rediscovered in 2001, performed by a solo soprano and a small string ensemble.
And so ends 2017. And it began with so much promise, too. At least the music was good and I don't have to eat a rat. I think my new years resolution will be to make amends with Ashley, though I do not know if it's a realistic one.
burning question: Wait, how did I start reading about South Georgia? I do love this description, though: "marks the aura of this savage cliff which falls abruptly into a deep and steaming crater where the basilisk of legend might properly have his den."
Friday was a longer than expected day but I did get an update from Rachel. She hasn't been able to talk to Leah in pretty much forever, so maybe I'll just have to wait until my serendipity builds up again after some other unexpected but brief reunions.
Intense days call for a triptych of intense dreams.
It's gotten to the point in which I realize I'm dreaming because Ashley is apologizing to me. And on cue, I woke up. If this ever happens in real life, I'm going to punch myself.
I had one of those dreams in which I'm not wearing any pants and I'm constantly self-conscious of that fact but at least I was able to conjure up a towel to wrap around my waist. I was wandering about a gray coastal town and someone gave me a box painted with abstract swirls of color against a black background. I tried to take someone's painted coins but he had none of that. Ashley explained to me why she had a problem with me and her reasons were obviously nonsense but she was happy with my apology anyway. I'm sure I knew I was dreaming at this point but the dreamworld is dreary but not an inferno. And I say something funny, which, in the real world, is probably completely nonsensical, and she hugs me in response and her friend hugs me too, and I'm still not waking up. Getting on treacherous barges is no problem. What woke me up is crawling into a really big lobster crate filled with technological wreckage and being attacked by a goose. Meanwhile, they're using a dead goose to bait some kind of seabird.
Last one before waking up, I'm trying to gather ten people to speak about hawks. A hawk leapt up on my shoulder and instead of the gonna-need-stitches-or-at-least-a-new-shirt blinding pain I'd imagine it would feel like in reality, it was a pinch. Leah showed up, wearing a colorful floral skirt and a plain-colored shirt, and one of her friends put an electrified towel on my shoulder that was apparently meant to jolt heartbeats back into regularity, and then she left and I ran after her but can't get to her. It's summer. It's green but rainy.
I do remember one of her bunnies was named George but I can't remember what the other one was named. It could be Spot. It probably wasn't.
The last time Gabriella was at the Peabody Essex Museum, there was an exhibit of wearable art and an exhibit of shoes.
She brought her parents and nephew (her sister wasn't present) with her. I've met Lisa but not Tom. A long time ago, Tom volunteered with the Blue Hills Trailside Museum.
Her nephew is enamored with photography and projected snowflakes. He saw Boston Baroque play Beethoven's 9th but says he doesn't remember it. I understand. I think I pointed this out once: I remember being aware that I now had a sister, who is 1064 days younger than me, and I remember the snake in the garden but I don't remember when that was, and I remember Hurricane Gloria but am pretty sure it was just an ordinary thunderstorm, and I remember wanting a dog but don't remember life before I had one.
Inside the Strand Theatre, it was merely freezing and not bonechillingly cold.
Gabriella said she saw a den of foxes in a graveyard near her home. I'm not sure how long ago; right now, the outside world is no place for the living.
The conductor pointed out that the horns Bach and Handel used in Water Music and the Brandenburg Concerto were basically just hunting horns without any of those fancy valves and tubing, and pointed out that one of the movements called for what Bach called a violino piccolo, which is an even smaller and higher violin, but neglected to say what a violone is (that is to say, a large viol) or that a violoncello is just another name for the cello.
The first Brandenberg Concerto was one of the earliest use of horns in an orchestra.
Water Music was put there to take our minds off of the infernal cold. It was written for a July day on the River Thames.
Händel's Gloria is an earlier work that he wrote while still in Germany that was rediscovered in 2001, performed by a solo soprano and a small string ensemble.
And so ends 2017. And it began with so much promise, too. At least the music was good and I don't have to eat a rat. I think my new years resolution will be to make amends with Ashley, though I do not know if it's a realistic one.
burning question: Wait, how did I start reading about South Georgia? I do love this description, though: "marks the aura of this savage cliff which falls abruptly into a deep and steaming crater where the basilisk of legend might properly have his den."
