peach-coloured sky breathes the pale dust of ships splitting towards heaven. stars creep out from their dents in the firmament, and drop, shooting, growing tentacles, acquiring a life of their own ——————– down down into the endless sea, blue as the night giving it birth. dreams like dolphins surface to breathe, shoot up into the stars,…
i dream in code. this time it is php and variants of html. i organise my dream sequences, using CSS. i wake up with a New paragraph (<span></span>) aargh.
and so here is the dream: in my dream, i sleep, and beryl the cat sleeps next to me in three columns, justified. with a little quotation in a frame somewhere in the middle of the page. to the music of “erbarme dich’ from st. Matthew’s passion by Bach. … illustrious.
the larch rests, moss-covered in the pleasant mist of the spring almost not started; the wet leaves stick to my soles and steps fill with the green that was and would be after the pale yellows and browns coming through fog, instantly lost as the drops from the twigs slowly condense across the dark wings…
there’s this. dreams. they are made of something. some people say, dreams are made of us, who we are, what we experience, what we remember or process. maybe they are right. or rather – there is some truth in what they say (about dreams, that is). and yet – there is more to dreams that…
and so my subconscious made fun of me again. going to some weird inoculation against what they called ‘summer disease’ (in a very strange place, and i had forgotten my ID and thus the whole thing failed), i happened to get to a teacher’s congress. where the teachers were dressed like mediaeval dignitaries and some –…
roses are green and red, and yellow, and orange. tomatoes are green and red and yellow and orange. roses smell nice. tomatoes smell nice. now, how come, we do not put tomatoes in a vase, and do not eat roses for salad? ======================================= my dead mother inhabits my dreams, mutely disappearing at the most odd…
the month of may is come, and apparently the annual academic madness is intensifying, as is its right. and so, after some attempts to figure out the differences between russian and english terminology and methods for poetry analysis. (and [insert the appropriate expletive here] can the russians convolute terminology and analysis, can they indeed.) and…
wind makes music by ages old recipe, and i read her shadow, standing between the light and the blackness, within fire, and not outside the permafrost, shadow, written of half-recollected chunks of what my blood has been way back when i was no more. wind cuts the reeds in palpable swaths and they crackle into…
so, i have got the wiedźmin books by Andrzej Sapkowski. in polish. and the audiobooks (polish), too. what i have been doing for the past days for a couple of hours a day, is this – read the books while listening to the audiobooks, and look up some of the most annoying unknown words in the…
wind a headache and a howl, never stopping, all there, windows trembling, blinding steps, wrap up in ice, close your eyes, listen, listen – thick gusts full of needles, is all unstuck, undeterred, waiting for no body – keep your soul close, lock it inside, lock it fast, the wind is about to steal it.…
when you think of it – dreams sometimes come true. and when one returns to the dream places, something changes. no, not the terrain. the self and the perception maybe, the way the terrain is seen…
so, i had a dream. about a linguistic process that is called actualisation of meaning in this process, from all the potential meanings of a word or phrase, depending on the context, only a few are actualised – become active and known. so, the dream. there were pieces of multi-layered cakes. there was a huge tower of ice-cream, also…
like a soundless party upstairs, the bitter-sweet fragrance creeps into my dreams, perfectly blending in, subtly turning the stream of subconscious in a stranger route, and i, asleep, watch the white and the magic dance, twine, grow and then – nothing, as the wind changes, and the nightingale bubbles and gurgles the sun awake.
and so i enter the dream-within-dream. and i am in some kind of himalayan foothill country. with people whose language is something like sanscrit (which i do not speak in life, but have heard in dreams). and there is some discussion about going to some place in the mountains where some benevolent entities, teachers, beings of light…
tonight i dreamed in greek. as this is a language i have learned from books, i do not know what it sounds like. so the little greek letters danced and moved about, making up chunks of text, sometimes understandable, sometimes totally unintelligible. and i thought in my dream – why am i dreaming this? it…
thus there is this dream: there are course descriptions like little boats floating in the air. and then there comes a leaviathan, a white whale (like moby dick in the film), and jumps, and eats them. and i wake up in horror. ——————— parallel to the course description revision, i read. currently – rereading the…
last night i had this dream. one of my interpreter colleagues asks me to pair him at a conference at the uni for simultaneous interpretation. unfortunately, i also have to present a paper there, a complication, no more. so, i turn up, with full text of my paper in both languages, all set for interpreting.…
in my dreams, i am back at that hospital in 2005. talking to the surgeon. about how bro’s inner bleeding cannot be stopped. how the brain death is imminent. and in amoment, it has set in. about stopping the blood transfusion after that. detaching the artificial life-support. and in the dream, i am suddely aware…
so. here is this dream. it repeats – not regularly, but often enough to have accumulated variants that i remember. it is not a first person dream, and it usually contains no pictures, only textual descriptions and feelings. therefore i will use /me instead of me, and /them instead of them. /me is walking through…
in my dream, there were two snakes. one was a grass-snake, long and domesticated, openly snaking through the room. the other was a very small and multicoloured but extremely poisonous little worm, trying to jump up to a place they could bite me. they failed, and fell on the floor, and escaped my boot numerous…
i my dreams, i return years ago, to the place where i am 12, and my kid brother is 6 months. i sit by his cot, and tell him of all the things in the world. of dogs and what the cows have been doing, and how i’ve plucked a chicken for soup, and what…
when classical music comes into my dreams, i dream classical. of the multi-level clouds over my path. of the distances covered, paths taken and again not taken. melodies invade my dreams, transfixing them, permeating, transforming them into awareness. i am in his presence – ever, always. i become aware of choices. yet i have no…
i just wonder. so, there was this dream thing. on my home farm, the outhouse was collapsed by a torsion field, and could not be restored. can a torsion field collapse an outhouse, if allegedly, it has neither mass nor energy? or maybe, i should stop eating those mushrooms with the little green spots?
in my dream, i was presented with a mug of peppermint tea. bright green, brilliant, with that indescribable peppermint smell. time itself stopped, un enjoy the taste. Posted by Wordmobi
