dreamlife in which I fly in space, track moose, & spend a lot of time in the river.

{my messy but so very cozy bedroom, 2 a.m. jan.12}

Well, I am happy to report that I am thoroughly enjoying the courses I have this semester. Though of course I still have been succumbing to procrastination this past week, the time I have spent reading for school has been pleasant. My classes right now, one on Oral Histories & the other on LanGscaping (about language planning and policies) are taught by my favourite profs & also relate directly to my thesis! (Last term I was just jumping through hoops, taking classes because I had to get credits; while I don't deny that they were certainly interesting, they were certainly tangential in regards to my own research interests).

So now, when I'm doing the (very well-chosen, well-written) readings for the classes, I also find myself taking copious notes for use in the first chapter of my thesis. It's delightful to be discover little theory tidbits & case studies that relate to exactly what (I think) I'm doing. I feel like a little magpie when I read, selecting all the shiniest bits to inform my thesis nest-making.

* * *

I had a terrifically epic dream last night, that I want to write down here for posterity. I promise I ingested no substance stranger than a cough-drop before sleeping... yet, I dreamed the following:

-- It began short episode involving being on a spaceship very similar to one on a television show that starts with 'st' & ends with 'artrekvoyager'. The captain had a very bad headache. We had to go find her something to help it, so my dad & I went out in a little pod that swooped around a lot. I'm a little concerned by this.

-- Suddenly we weren't in space anymore, & my dad dropped me off on Whyte Ave. because apparently it was more important I go meet my mother, aunt & sister for lunch. Tried to meet them but we all ended up at the restaurant at the wrong time. I ate good soup though.

-- suddenly, I was then wading through the river (near Hawrelak park it seemed, by the Groat rd. bridge) with my dad & sister, because we were looking for moose, for some reason. The river was silty & resembled the Robertson Glacier floodplains, with taller grasses & more places to walk... then we got up onto a bridge & headed over to that park on the other side, because I thought there might be more moose there. No, just mountain bikers. I headed up a trail on the bank, intending for my sister to follow, but she wouldn't. (Typical) No moose there, either...

-- ...because now I was in a concrete tunnel, covered in graffiti, that reminded me of underground parking garages & a subway tunnel all combined... every so often a garage door divided the tunnels, and this little girl was with me, asking me questions about music & philosophy. If I answered, the door would open & I could keep going. Also, we were speaking French, & talking about ancient Rome & Neko Case.

-- The girl then just started opening the doors then, pushing them out of the way instead of asking me questions. We surfaced from the tunnel in Lacombe Park, by the man-made lake, which was now a tiny pond in the middle of an opulent garden, it was covered in pink & purple & yellow flowers, & floating lily pads & alfalfa sprouts. In the pond a man & woman were swimming, floating all leisurely on their backs, dressed up in Edwardian-era finery...

-- the man said he was a poet, he was writing teeny-tiny little poems on Lindor chocolate wrappers. Some of his books were frozen under the water that was ice sometimes, & water other times. He said he was starting a literary journal, & would I like to contribute?

-- then suddenly, the (very British) prof I T.A.-ed for last term appeared out of nowhere, asking me how the class did on their final exams. I told him, for some reason, that the girl who had been with me in the tunnel had answered everything correctly & should get a prize.

-- Prof then tells me he has something to show me, & I'm inside a film strip, watching multicoloured aeroplanes swoop low over the North Saskatchewan river. Suddenly one plane expels hundreds of also-multicoloured capsules, little round spheres the size of a person, that land in the water, then disappears.

-- Then I am in one of the capsules, now like half an eggshell, bobbing along in the river with a number of people. All from my junior high school. Apparently, I had been in the plane flying to Yukon, but the engine stopped working. We were sent out of the plane in safety-capsules, which are apparently safer than parachutes.

-- We all pull ourselves ashore, which is now the sunny grassy spots along the Sturgeon River by the library. People are disrobing & running around quite naked, but I decide to remain soggy because I suddenly remember I really need to go into the library & find my shoes.

-- In the library there are a coffeeshops & people everywhere. I don't find my shoes, but I call my mother to tell her I'm okay, but she already knows it, the newspaper told her "all the grad students are safe". I'm impressed by the swiftness of the news service, & she comes to get me from the library. I still have no shoes, but am wearing fishnet tights.

-- Then I woke up, sort of tired. That was all.