trance stories: a change in the air

Dream… but I feel these dreams will start fading into another form….

I’m eating and doing some work on my laptop in a restaurant owned by my coworkers. I idly chat with the server and somehow get home without my vehicle (must have had a drink?) I return the next morning and someone has brutalized my van. They’ve smashed two side windows, ripped up and thrown around everything, I clean up all the glass and put the interior in order. My laptop is missing. The cubes of smashed glass and ripped fabric all seem so real, so correct in look and feel. On my to check the restaurant, I run into a man with glasses, a bald head, and a radically straight-laced disposition who talks to me as though he’s my employer, which I soon realize he is. I recall that he was interviewing my friend Andrew to work at the restaurant, and he’s very impressed with Andrew’s realistic views on things. I become internally aware that I am by no means realistic, and silently despise people who are. I feel gross just for talking to this man, even though I don’t show it, or show him any hostility whatsoever. I return to the restaurant. I’m there before any of the servers show up. I see that all of my dishes are still out on the counter. Hidden behind those dishes is my laptop, and I’m relieved. This really cool person I work with, Tara, walks up the stairs (there are many) to the restaurant. I become aware that I’m in a tropical location, somewhere with lots of palm trees and the like. We talk about the van, and I show her the damage. I wake up and it sets in that my van is in the driveway outside, and it’s fine.

Could be part memory of a similar story a painter told me yesterday, could be an analysis of how I view interactions between people, or the things I value. I’m told that a vehicle is the means to do something, home is your frame of mind, and a workplace represents your contribution to the world.

Am I jealous of my roommate’s realistic perspective? Perhaps I just know that I will soon be moving on with my level on contribution to the world.

Today had an odd air about it. Electric devices were breaking down in every store I visited: the ATM in a convenience store, the computer and debit machine in a grocery store, and I even couldn’t find my drumstick, which is my technology, at my workplace.

Now safely home, I reflect on the many things that have developed over the last month.

The beating of drum is a daily reality for me.

I need to write some drum stories.

There are these groups, online.

They cry out, “Hail Tyr! Hail Odin!”

“Hail Frey and Freyja!”

What brought us here, Ouroboros?

Oh, yes.

That’s a story I need to tell you.

Perhaps another time.



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