dreams 12/20/22

so there were many dreams during this winter storm, all brimming over. all i can recall are fragments or sentiments from each.

in one, there was a woman recalling an affair with a confederate soldier, which happened when both were in new york (incongruous). she said that his kisses tasted like "brooklyn and rain."

in another, there was a shipping container with faded mountains painted on its side parked in the middle of a street. this was an obstacle in the way of the construction of someone's home. so i went on a journey up into the mountains, and found a middle aged chamorro man, disillusioned with life, and dangerously apathetic about mine. in any case, he listened to what i had to say. perhaps he was related to the person whose home was in jeopardy. he took me to an aging wwii bomber, and flew it down from the mountain. i recall him barely clearing the peaks of mountains, and, later, buildings, until we approached the shipping container, and it became certain that he intended to crash the plane directly into the shipping container...

[i think i was awake for this part... lynn said there were no blankets behind her, so i reached around her to pull them up, and found musubi there. "there's something warm and furry here. and it vibrates." i demonstrated by rubbing musubi's neck. "you're getting a call on your pager."]

and i had a thought, perhaps the uniting element of all these fragments, that chatgpt was somehow tapped into the collective unconsciousness, and was filling it with pseudo-gibberish or pseudo-sense (depending on your perspective), like some vast silicon iceberg melting its circuitry into the oceans, causing its levels to rise up and drown everyone in unsettling dreams.