meta dreams, by David
I didn’t remember dreams until morning, when I began to get vivid fragments separated by time, mostly meta dreams about Oneironauticum.
One set of fragments involved a gallery where we’d gathered for our dream group. The first gallery contained carvings made into dark, baked clay. The second contained portraiture as done by a seven year old—not a younger child—enameled against a white back drop occasionally framed by round bits of chrome or mirror. The third gallery had nothing in it except varying gradations of white throughout, similar to Jay DeFeo’s “The Rose”.
In another dream, the group of us sat talking before going to bed. The conversation revolved around dreams and about the group. People discussed the effect of heavy meals on dreams. One person talked about the time he was turned away when he showed up for Oneironauticum drunk.
In the last dream, after departing from the group in the morning I was travelling east in my car on Ashby in Berkeley, and I had to take a right onto “International Blvd”, which was a somewhat poorer, very ethnically diverse street lined with various markets and restaurants. I was behind a long slow queue of cars also making the turn-off. A moment passed, and suddenly I was now coasting unimpeded down the street on a bicycle, my arms outstretched and the wind in my face.