Recent DJ Posts

Camera Project (7:06)

My sister needs to borrow my camera ASAP for a class project which I assume is due this morning. I give it to her somehow and head to my own class, Discrete Math. On the way I get a text from Mom saying that my sister has gotten really depressed about this project, since now she can't get the pictures off of the camera. I feel stupid for not realizing that she would need the CD to install the camera's driver onto her computer. I'm not even sure where that CD is, nowadays. I might have packed it in one of those boxes I've been meaning to send home. It'll take a while to find it for her. But that's actually okay, I suddenly realize, because I don't have class this morning--it's Monday, and Discrete Math is on Tuesdays. Today I don't have class until the afternoon. Only, maybe the project was already due, in which case I can do nothing to help. On the off chance it will do some good, I head back towards my dorm.

By means of a cutscene [or something], I see that Dad's given my sister a call, to say in no uncertain terms that he is totally unsympathetic to her plight. I also see that my sister is standing in a grassy lawn, crying, waiting for her boyfriend to come with roses and make her feel better. I think that's a bit of an immature thing to use a boyfriend for.

Old Folk's Home

I'm about to walk away from the building when I decide, regretfully, that I might as well go back there to practice viola. I don't like that building. That one weird professor lives in it, and it's basically an old folk's home. I turn around and walk back, noticing that there are a lot of string quartets and small bands rehearsing on the sidewalk, all in a row. Huh.

Inside, I wander around the building for a while. There is a shallow spiral staircase to the second floor. I feel old myself as I climb them, since my recent sickness has left me lethargic enough that I have to put both feet on each step. This frustrates me, so I decide to challenge myself and try the other staircase: a much steeper one going up the middle of the spiral staircase, with golden steps that are individually suspended on ropes from the ceiling. It turns out to be very hard, since there's nothing to stop the steps from swinging back and forth like so many swings. I have to grab a rope to prevent myself from falling off. One of the women working at desks on the second floor notices my plight and demonstrates proper use of the staircase. She has no trouble walking all the way down. But there's not really a trick to it; you just have to be very coordinated. I can't believe anyone thought that this staircase was a good idea. It seems dangerous. In describing this staircase, later, I call it a "Margo Walk."

Back on the first floor, I meet a nice old woman and her friend. As a test, the woman has us alternate numbers, counting to ten in German. It gets off to a slow start, because I was confused by her accent and I expected she was going to ask for Korean. Then I ask her how to say "forty" in German, because I only know twenty and thirty. [IRL: I didn't even know "thirty"; I was confusing it with "thirteen."] She seems confused, thinking that I should have asked how to say "forty-four," I guess because it's more fun to say. It's an interesting approach to linguistics, I suppose. She has to think a long time about "forty." Has she been speaking English for so long that she forgot her native language?

Then it's time for lunch, and as a group we set off for the dining room. I wonder if the'll want me to sit next to them. I decide not to risk being unwelcome, and I sit at the end of the table instead. Then I notice that somehow my place doesn't have a plate with food, while almost everyone else's does. I decide I'll just be patient, but in the meantime I'm worried that some of the people here will start fussing over me, thinking that my not having a plate is a dreadful tragedy, or something. I look around the table at the old faces around me, trying to reconcile myself to the idea of old age. I guess for the most part they're good-looking, in their own ways.

[I think I came back to this lunchroom on various other occasions. I began to feel a bit like a freeloader for eating lunch here almost every day, but on the other hand I would feel rude abandoning everyone just before the meal. And the food was pretty good.]

Are We Watching Porn?

Spoiler for sexual content:

I'm in the basement with a group of kids my age. There are about a dozen TVs down here, all showing similar videos. At first, the content is pretty innocuous. But there's this one video with two women. Somehow their clothes start disappearing, and somehow what they're doing is stimulating to one of the women. After a minute she gasps and says, "That was SO GOOD!" At this point, I'm a little confused and uncomfortable (and aroused); I thought these videos were about something else. Everyone else seems confused too; another guy asks, "Are we watching porn?" In response, a few people laugh. By now, everyone in all of the videos is naked.

Lucid?

[I remember that I was lucid at some point in the night. I was looking at a natural landscape and appreciating the detail. Then I tried to look upwards, and the lights dimmed and I lost all visuals.]

Stamitz Viola Concerto (9:23)

I'm talking to someone in the entrance hall of an old-ish building. I hear a viola behind me, and suddenly I recognize the music as the theme from the first movement of the Stamitz viola concerto. Sweet! I look around at the player, who turns out to be a forty-odd, balding man. I notice that he's playing the accompaniment parts as well, using double stops. For that reason, he's playing well under tempo. Also, sometimes he has to break a long solo note into repeated shorter notes, since the accompaniment underneath is changing. Wow, this guy's good. I feel very inept in comparison.

Ritual of the Children

I'm sitting in a common room when a girl comes in from outside. She starts talking to some friends of hers, telling them about a meeting she just attended with a famous person, who actually just sent out a tweet about the meeting that involved a play on words on the girl's name. She's pretty happy about this.

Later, I come back into the common room. The girl's already there. I sit next to her and try to start up a conversation. We talk about her name. Turns out her name is Sadie Hawkins, which is also the name of a type of school dance. I'm surprised I didn't make this connection the first time I heard it. I suppose that must be because I heard it in the context of a play on words. I try to explain this to her, but my explanation is something along the lines of, "Oh, I guess that makes sense, because . . . you know, it was . . . right?" Immediately afterward, I feel embarrassed for being so terribly awful at communication. I think I was afraid to explain it directly, because that would mean admitting that I eavesdropped on her conversation.

Then a bunch of ten-year-old kids come into the room and start doing a ritual. Then it's time for lunch, but we have time to shower first, if we want. I do want to, so I try to head down the hallway to the bathroom. But the entrance is like two feet too short for my head. I suppose this hallway must be reserved for the ten-year-olds. They have their own hallway? This is weird. Whatever. I go down the hallway to the left, which takes me to the bathroom.

It's dark in here, and crowded. I open the first door that I come to, but it's a toilet stall, not a shower. I keep looking for a shower, but instead I come upon a row of turnstiles in the right wall. The kids are lined up behind them, entering one at a time. If this is their entrance, then I probably went past the showers. And I'd better find one soon, because it will be even more crowded here before long.

Tropical Island

[I am awake at the beginning of this dream.]

I know that it is almost time to wake up, but I decide to see if I can fall asleep into a dream landscape of my choosing. [Sort of like a WILD, I guess, but I didn't use that terminology at the time.] I decide that I will attempt to enter the dream quickly by visualizing myself falling from a great height. I picture a field of rolling plains, and in the distance there is a tall group of rocks with almost vertical sides. I am at the top of those rocks, I decide. The view starts to zoom in on the rocks. I still feel like I'm just picturing this in my head, not dreaming it, which frustrates me. Eventually I zoom in on myself, and then I fall backwards off of the cliff. [I can't remember the details of the event.]

I've landed on a beach, in the surf, though it takes a few moments for me to get my bearings. Somehow this is not what I wanted to happen, but a voice tells me that I should be feeling very comfortable right now (seeing as how this is a tropical island), so I should try to enjoy myself. I wade into the water, but almost immediately I notice something floating in the water near me that looks like dog poop. Eww. I try to wade away from it, but a trick of the current seems to make it follow me. Once, I think I've gotten away from it, only to look again a moment later and find that it's back. Then I notice that there's a current under the surface that's making a lot of stuff collide with my legs on its way past me. Seaweed, perhaps. In any case, it's gross. This is not fun.