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they were not nightmares
Jul. 28th, 2001 10:16 amA curious condition of the settings of my dreams is that they are composed of bits and pieces of a dozen different places. Prague streets, a store, the woods near my middle school, a castle I visited and forgot... It can be confusing. I dreamed last night about the film professor Bregant, working in a bar, watching the Tour de France. It was strange, and I felt resltess the entire time.
It was puzzlingly similar to last night's dream, with the Vltava flooding up like Lake Austin, the narrow sandy path, my Russian literary journals, the boat, conversation with the store clerk, working in a bookstore.
These dreams offer up initimate conversation moments, where I find myself very close to someone and trying to explain something. I have not figured it out yet, nor is it easy to explain. But I think it is a common occurence in my dreaming. The atmosphere of these paticular dreams seems to be a refelction of something inside my own head. Perhaps my own sense of drama.
It was nice to see Bregant again, even if only in a dream. We were walking across campus, a cross between university buildings and palace grounds from Moravia, bordered by Hill Country scenery. He was teaching a class here in the States, and I'd switched over into it. Politics and Film I think. There are several pages of just description of him in my Prague notebook. The way he moved, his speech patterns, the clothes he wore, how he sat during the films. I'll use all that one day for something.
Maybe I'll just daydream.
I'm ravenous. Time for grapefruit.
It was puzzlingly similar to last night's dream, with the Vltava flooding up like Lake Austin, the narrow sandy path, my Russian literary journals, the boat, conversation with the store clerk, working in a bookstore.
These dreams offer up initimate conversation moments, where I find myself very close to someone and trying to explain something. I have not figured it out yet, nor is it easy to explain. But I think it is a common occurence in my dreaming. The atmosphere of these paticular dreams seems to be a refelction of something inside my own head. Perhaps my own sense of drama.
It was nice to see Bregant again, even if only in a dream. We were walking across campus, a cross between university buildings and palace grounds from Moravia, bordered by Hill Country scenery. He was teaching a class here in the States, and I'd switched over into it. Politics and Film I think. There are several pages of just description of him in my Prague notebook. The way he moved, his speech patterns, the clothes he wore, how he sat during the films. I'll use all that one day for something.
Maybe I'll just daydream.
I'm ravenous. Time for grapefruit.
