From the Dream Archive

These come from an undated pad of paper I had next to the bed, which I think comes from some period between 1997 and 2000. I wrote down little snippets of dreams and hypnogogic ideas that came to me with the plan to flesh them out later. The pad was lost, but now it's found.

People walk around town carrying others without really knowing it. Either they are riding them or they are clinging to them.

A wealthy man in desperate straits would buy your breath from you.

...like an ice truck on a bumpy road out of Hell.

A: "There are no monkeys in the army."
B: "That's what you think, but you don't know that."
A: "Well, you don't know that there are. And if there are anyway, they're just research monkeys."

Memory is a funny thing. Imagine trying to remember someone and only conjuring the shape of the roof of the house they grew up in. Summoning a memory is a conjurer's art--some times the magic's there, other times it isn't. Your first girlfriend's phone number, once a well-trod path, is now overgrown with weeds. You'll remember the combination of numbers one day out of the blue, and then the next day it's gone. Though you've lost the number, the memory of having it is fresh still in your mind. You will lose that, too. You are entering the middle years--the age of forgetfulness. When you are old, you will be assulted by memory.

I can only see as far ahead or behind as would be permitted by the light of a campfire on a foggy night.

I just thought of a science fictoin process of drugging/hypnotizing someone to they lay in a dark room, hooked up to IVs and lay in the dark listening to 100 straight hours of suggestive programming to learn a language, stop smoking or take a class in business law.

Character names: Graham Dribbler (or Grim Drabbler), Parallel Itchyfoot (or Parnell), Axel Theopossulus (Acts of the Apostles)

I was dreaming of pulling clothes off a metal clothesline during an electrical storm--afraid to be hit by lightning--when Wendy twitched in her sleep and woke me up.