A transcript that doesn't quite add up c. February 9, 2009

I woke up this morning and said (half-asleep) to D*****, "When it comes to sevens, you are my two and five." 

He replied (more awake than I), "Oh, I'm not your three and four?"

I thought to myself, "He gets it.  He really gets it," and promptly fell back asleep.

I've been struggling all day to figure out what that meant, because it was so clear to me then.

Walls come tumbling down c. January 9, 2009

I'm in a sculpture class that takes place in a space the size of two large gymnasiums.  The student projects are stored warehouse style on pallets and shelving that runs several stories high.  

I've missed many classes and another student is showing me one of the techniques I missed during the last class.  We pour several colors of molten glass into a crucible and then on to a slab where we can form it with our hands like hot pulled candy.  The results are surprisingly complex and beautiful for such a simple procedure.

As M***** assists me by getting a bowl of cold water, she accidentally knocks into the side of a precariously stacked shelving unit.  It starts to tremble and sway.  Students rush onto one of the platforms of the shelving unit, trying to prevent it from collapsing, but the whole thing implodes like a demolished building.  We all stare in dismay as thousands of molten glass bowls are crushed to bits in the accident.  The instructor tries to comfort us, but I wonder why the pieces were stored that way in the first place.  I know M***** feels terrible and I can't help but feel responsible as well because she was getting the bowl of water for me.

What follows is a comedy of errors.  In order to prevent a similar accident from occurring, a different group of students begin moving their work (medieval armor and full length cast metal framed mirrors) to a different location in the warehouse.  As they are moving their pieces, the commotion causes someone else to bump into another shelving unit.  This one contains figurines and scenes rendered in Mexican talavera-style pottery.  We all look on as the second unit sways and collapses.  

The vibration from both of the accidents sets off a chain reaction and stack after stack is reduced to rubble.  It is somewhat tragic as aisles and aisles of student work are destroyed, but I take a bit of pleasure in witnessing this disturbingly beautiful performance piece.  The final unit to collapse is a column of concrete dinosaurs.  

Note: I've always wanted to open a concrete art yard next to an abstract art gallery, just for pun's sake, and I find it ironic that the dinosaurs were the last to go.

The students are evacuated and are served cookies and fruit punch outdoors, summer camp style. Since I am the only one in class who can fly, I am allowed back in to survey and document the damage from above.  I try taking pictures with my digital camera so that the insurance agents and others can see what I'm seeing.  As is often the case, I can't get the shutter button to engage and am unable to capture the images.  Also, it is difficult for me to fly and shoot photos at the same time and I keep flying into walls.

An overhead conveyor of Christmas decorations runs overhead from a neighboring factory.  The factory owners are dismantling the works as I fly by.  Again, I am unable to shoot any pictures before I smack into a wall and I have to leave.

I don't know what else to say about this dream except that it was visually stunning and precisely why I wish the cameras in my dreams would work.