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let's all meet up in the year 3000

(dream) everybody I knew was coming to a massive party on a Greek island. We were all set up in one of those half-ruined old temple places, miles from anywhere, swigging back wine, eating olives and grapes, wandering round in the warm warm air. A faun with a wheelbarrow was trying to sell us antiquities; I remember seeing him wheeling a head past and thinking, that looks like part of the temple he's got there, and I looked down at the dry ground and there was another head, a fragment of carved stone, a bead, and once you looked the ground was teeming with things. In a half-ruined room open to the sky, the faun yanked an ancient wineskin out from among the rocks and said I should have it. I looked at it; it wasn't ancient, the styling was decidedly deco. My shadow said, Do you really want that? It looks like it's recent and people don't want to remember [the war]. I found a date on the neck of the skin; 1945. I scowled and threw it away. I had thought it was leather, but it shattered on the rocks like porcelain. Well, too late now, said the faun. I left him behind in the ruin to go down to the sea, but there were no beaches on this side of the island, just black volcanic rock. I peered down at a few token waves breaking on rocks and wondered if there was any sand down there at all. We could visit the beach tomorrow, but I wanted to be there now. Some more friends I hadn't seen for a while turned up fashionably late, arriving from a Greek Temple in better condition -- a railway terminus perhaps? They'd all changed since I last saw them. Tom's skin was grey and flaking, like an old statue, but it looked very stylish, more fashion choice than disease. Geneva's (greengolux) eyes had turned glowing yellow and she was wearing a Virgina Woolf nose and a black catsuit. Niall (coalescent) was in a fur-collar coat and a big fur hat (still dressed for the steppes) and had grown considerably taller since I last saw him, nine or ten feet tall at least. I peered up at him. Wow, you just carried on growing, I said, I didn't even know that was possible! which I thought was probably tactless, but I was very, very drunk.

Rather mytheme heavy, I thought -- perhaps because review season started last night, with one of those very experimental performances of folk-tales. Some mad Cornish company had teamed up with the Baghdaddies for a blinding "let's do the show right here in the squat!" multi-whatever show adapting a weird Charles Causley poem about a boy who wanted to be a fish and retelling Red Riding Hood using the same old oral version Neil Gaiman likes so much. Plots aside though, the plays are bloody great myth-mashes of video, puppets, music, comedy, projections, animations, fourth-wall antics and general total weirdness. My reveiw sucks, and has those f***ed-up line breaks again. Still, you get what you pay for ... oh, hey, it's only £7. Anyone want to go again?

There's some rather nice magaziny stuff on do now, commercial illustrations out of context are always kind of fascinating. This site stuffed with beautiful pictures by a Russian illustrator is worth a look; caution, this one is work safe, but many of them are not.


( 9 worms — Feed the birds )
7th Oct, 2003 05:43 (UTC)
That was some dream! Fantastic!!
7th Oct, 2003 07:58 (UTC)
a bit aggressively symbolic for my taste
I mean ... a faun, passing me a wineskin, which I then toss away? Why not just dream about trains and tunnels and be done with it!?
7th Oct, 2003 07:44 (UTC)
Great dream
I wish I could remember my dreams like that! :-)
7th Oct, 2003 07:56 (UTC)
... that one only got remembered because my alarm clock had run itself down ringing all yesterday evening while I was out meaning that I jerked awake in a panic half-way through it to discover the video and my alarm clock vastly disagreeing over the time.

But remembering dreams is just a question of training yourself, and anyone can do it. You set your alarm clock 1/2 hour earlier, and *the moment* you wake up write down any dreams you've had, no matter how tedious, embarassing and banal. Do this for a bit, you'll be able to remember (some of) your dreams. The question you need to ask yourself is, is it really worth the bother? (A quick glance through the dream diary section of Borders should give you a clue ...)
7th Oct, 2003 08:14 (UTC)
Problem is...
I often tend to awake ahead of my alarm anyway, by 2 minutes at a minimum. So, setting it earlier and earlier will only serve to make me even more sleepless.

Oh, also throw in that I'm a light sleeper - or at least perceive myself to be.

Maybe I'll contemplate the techniques more seriously when I'm less overworked and sleepy. 2004 maybe? ;-)
7th Oct, 2003 08:32 (UTC)
Re: Problem is...
nah, I wouldn't actually recommend it to anyone who didn't have *no life* whatsoever as it does bugger up your sleep patterns (hey, that's the point) -- and really, they're *just* dreams, and not that important compared to say, remembering where your keys are or when you need to pay the gas bill ... ;)
7th Oct, 2003 09:42 (UTC)
Re: Great dream
Yeah, me too. I can't remember the last time I remembered dreaming...
7th Oct, 2003 09:49 (UTC)
Laurie Andersen claims
that the nights you can't remember your own dreams it's because you've been appearing in other people's. But she's probably not to be trusted.
15th Oct, 2003 07:03 (UTC)
This dream probably relates to anxiety about social groups and how they change over time. The confused sense of time ("far future perfect") suggests anxiety both about future relationships and about the past, as well as an awareness that present and future problems are not seperate from the past but part of a continuity. The party context

The ruined yet luxurious environment densely filled with evidence of the past ("souvenirs, fakes, mistakes") suggests a complex problem; your world is full of ruined, old things, yet the closer you look at them the more valuable/beautiful they appear. You are fascinated with evidence of the past, yet trying to avoid owning it.

The faun is a complex figure. Identified with Bacchus and Pan, through appearance and accoutrements, it simultaneously offers you forgetfulness (wineskin) and remembrance (the item is a reminder of the war). It is also a native of its environment (you are a stranger) offering you something it thinks you'll like but which you reject. Put in the context of social anxiety, the paralell is perhaps with people offering you opportunities which you fail to follow up or reject, damaging the (new) friendships concerned.

The white beach is a common symbol for escape from the everyday. The shadow you talk to, just a narrative device to allow debate.

The terminus/teleportation device may well be about the internet. The implication of built technology, the "enlivened" magrail terminus from Queen City Jazz and the difference between the ruined temples and this one all hint at technology; but even more revealing are the figures that emerge. Both Niall and Geneva have been altered (improved, encrusted) with additional information (height, clothes, modifications) while not-on-livejournal Tom, for all that he was making a style statement out of it, was decaying and losing colour.

There is also a central mystery to this dream. It centres upon perversity: you are drunk but you refuse the wine flask; you are at a party, yet you want to be at the beach; it is the future, but you are standing in the past; you love your friends but you are cruel to them.

The faun's message, "too late now" suggests opportunities past and anxiety about time slipping away. ("time, growth, development")
( 9 worms — Feed the birds )