The dream is movie style. Hurricane Katrina creates panic in the streets of new Orleans. It isn’t just weather. It heralds the arricval of something unknown. People run through the streets seeking cover.   In scene two of the dream, a it’s morning and a husband and pregnant wife are getting ready for work. All seems normal, average American family, but the husband is invisible. He kisses his wife as he leaves for work. The audience marvels...

I had some visitors. In the beginning part of the night, there were these two dudes, one of them had like this weird futuristic hairdo, like a hexagon on his head. He was like sitting on the side of my bed, right in this room but without waking up anyone else. It was very realistic. He showed up just as I was falling asleep to the music [Robert Rich’s piece Somnium, to which we were sleeping]. It was definitely a hypnogogic dream. So the...

My dream was here, but it wasn’t. We were in this room, we were all together and I actually remember there was an orange pigeon in the corner. Erik was right there, in the space, saying “I just wished for that.” Jennifer was planting this amazing, glowing flower and at the same time I was pulling out the petals and they were re-growing immediately. We were in a dining hall and it was just like our physical space, like where we are now. It...

I had a few dreams. One, at 7:03 in the morning, was a sort of camp scene and the group of us—which was sort of the whole group of us even though I was home sleeping alone in my room and participating remotely in the Oneironauticum—were being challenged to see who could get the most juice of out these different fruits and vegetables. We were sectioned off into the groups that handled the different fruits or vegetables and I had tomato and I...

The dream was here, in this same space [Katzen Kultur Klub in Los Angeles]. There was a table with all this food but I knew that there was something evil about it, that we shouldn’t be eating it. Somebody said, hey, “that’s really good, it looks like good food” and I was like, “No… don’t eat the food” and they were like, “Why, what’s the problem, what’s going on?” But I knew there was something wrong. And then this...

Earlier in the night, I had several unsurprising dreams. One had a pleasant erotic component, and then I had a typical Oneironauticum meta-dream in which everyone else at the event had awaken and started bustling around their day while I still laid asleep in the kitchen. In another I lugged around piles of books, immersed in a research project studying Frances Yates. Later in the night, however, I became aware of the music though I remained and...