Dreams 20051028: The Museum Comment Book, The Organic Gardening Neighbors

These were two cool dreams, and I honestly don’t remember enough to know whether I woke up between or not.

Dreams 20051028:

I had a blue dream pill.

The first dream has that weird perspective that I encounter sometimes in dreamland, where it’s kind of happening to me, and kind of me watching it happen to someone. I see things primarily in terms of what this one person experiences, but I’m often watching him do things, rather than seeing through his eyes. I’ll write this out first-person, because it’s less crazy-making that way.

I am in a big cave-like place; there are several different layers, and it appears like a blend between dug-out-by-humans cave and natural cavern. There is a big clay Goddess in the lowest level; sometimes she is animate, sometimes it’s only a statue, red clay with gold and blue and green. Or, maybe sometimes the statue animates, I’m not sure. I don’t remember her name now, but I knew it in the dream, and she was some kind of South American goddess, like a Mayan or Aztec. She was also very cool, in a sort of hip grandma kind of way, and she is fond of me. It feels like a favorite-grandson relationship, not like a religious devotion. The cave-place is a museum, and there are a bunch of us who work here and live here as well. I don’t have any specific memory of what it’s a museum *of*, although I know that the statue and other artifacts figure into the mission.

I work in some administrative or support job here. I don’t remember my specific duties, but it’s mostly dealing with customers and handling inquiries. I apparently like to make snide comments in the visitor’s comment book; I don’t do so in the dream, but I have memories of it. I look at the book, and there is a note below one of my comments, saying that I was in trouble. I think my supervisor has fired me via a comment in the book, which gets me very upset. I go to the lower level and call up the Goddess, I wish I could remember her name now… but she comes out of her cave and talks to me, and I remember her holding me against her bosom, which is simultaneously warm and motherly, and made out of warm slightly grainy terra cotta. She apparently talks to someone and gets the whole comment book thing taken care of; I feel like my job is OK now. There is something about moving upward on an elevator, and seeing the crawl spaces between the levels; they are all open and airy, and brightly lit. They are lined with white fluff, instead of insulation and wiring. There is something that I’m collecting, but I don’t remember what it was.

The Organic Gardening Neighbors

I don’t recall a significant amount of plot that happened before this; the part that I recall is essentially the final couple of scenes of this dream.

I am helping a neighbor move some large furniture. We go into the bedroom, which has this huge bed with two mattresses separated by a small central space. The whole thing is finished in beautiful colors of dark orangey red and gold. It looks almost like two separate beds, but there’s a headboard piece that connects them both, and there are little built alcoves along either side so that it’s clearly one huge piece of furniture. The wife tells me that she likes to sleep facing a mirror; I don’t remember her reasoning. We move a desk or table into the space in the center of the bed, and it’s turned the wrong way round; we move it around again and again trying to get it turned right, but it’s hard to maneuver it in the room with the way the bed is.

I want to see their garden; I’ve always admired it because it’s so beautiful. They explain that it’s all organic. We go outside, and the porch is thronged with mosquitos. I pick up a container from a table by the back door and spray my legs; looking down, I realize that it’s a plant spray, not a repellant. I pick up the right spray, and spray again, making a joking comment about getting the wrong one. We go outside, and their garden is like something from a nursery, with little seed beds with sprouting plants beside the cultured beds of older things. It’s all very green and soft and lush. There are areas that are covered, like pave stone, but it’s these large sections of flooring – I get down on the ground to look at them, and it’s like steel sheeting 1/8″ thick, with a beveled edge to keep it from being sharp. For some reason, though, it seems more like battleship linoleum to walk on, it doesn’t buckle or make a noise like steel. These are laid out for walkways, and there are rectangles and circles that make up a pattern that reminds me of cathedral architecture. He shows me how the sections swing aside, pivoting around the circle parts, to allow them to rearrange the flower beds as needed.

Then, I go across the fence into my own back yard, and I’m there with Chris and my Mom and maybe some others, working on getting the yard cleaned up. We pull vines out of this huge old tree that turns out to be dead; the vines shower down along with lots of bark and limbs. A turned-over stump reveals a foot-long centipede, and we watch it in fascination for a while as it runs around the stump trying to find its place to hide. It is golden and kind of sparkly, almost like a necklace. Then, I’m pulling vines off the inside of a window that appears to be a shallow aquarium – I’m inside the house, in a room that seems like the kind of glassed-off place you’d put the plants in the winter, and the vines are growing up the wall and over the surface of this aquarium/window. I pull some of them off, but then I’m pointing out to Chris that there’s one kind that belongs there, and I should’nt pull it out along with the others. The aquarium is only about half full, and it’s like small pond life rather than tropical fish; there are tadpoles and minnows and a variety of little green plants that grow up out of the water.