Cylon tomb digging
I had a dream last night. Well, actually, this morning. A group of us were gathering in some dusty warehouse/workshop sort of thing to talk about building particularly cool technology, of which I only vaguely recall. Something about advanced materials, energy efficiency, blah blah blah. The usual ideas that gets today's young engineers excited about changing the world.
The building attached to some fairly old house in some relatively remote part of town (think "redwood forests," while simultaneously thinking "haunted," "summer camp," and "Victorian mystery"), but close enough to other houses that some kids (at the part of my dream that caused me to wake myself up violently) were able to visit the place for trick-or-treating. Mostly the tricking.
There were seven or eight of us gathering in the large workspace. The building was three stories tall, but open inside so that there were three floors of ceiling space. And the equipment! Oh, so much equipment! Lifts and tools and covered projects (cars being restored? tractors being fixed?) and hooks and chains and dust and wood floors and shelves and racks and, oh, it was great.
I showed up with my buddy, a skinny guy whom I actually don't know or recall in real life. We were talking about something when I had a knock-knock joke from "Chris Dinkin." I, of course, recognized Sam immediately, and was THRILLED (as I would be in real life) to see him. We spent the next half hour or so during the start of the gathering, talking, snuggling and nuzzling to the side.
I'm pretty sure I wasn't the woman in this dream. Sure, I was looking through her eyes, but, either this was from a life B.K.. Though, dreams are a way to have experiences one can't or won't have normally, so who knows.
The other person I recognized in the dream was Fritz, a student at Tech when I was there. He graduated with his Bachelors my junior year, I think, after 10 years of undergraduate work. At the time, I remember wondering why did it take him so long, why didn't he just go some place else. Now, I understand the accomplishment that goal brought him, and I'm very glad he kept trying, that the dean of the school gave him another chance to reach that success. Sure, he may not become a great scientist, but he'll appreciate that degree in ways others just can't.
So, Fritz was there, and made some remark about the original idea for a project was dumb, why not work on this other idea, which is clearly more brilliant? It was a good idea, so he and his work partner went off to get some parts for the new idea.
While all of this was happening, I realized, this in my dream, that I was starting to have migraine auras in my vision. I made some comment to Sam, and told him I was going to head off with my friend. We went outside to the back porch and were talking about the enclosed tomb under the porch, where some people were buried years and years and years ago. I grabbed a pick ax, and started chipping away at the cement/plaster coating on the side of the porch, to see under the porch, into the tomb.
There is a point to this dream, more than rambling details. Really.
As I was working away, three kids came up to us, trick-or-treating. They were too old to be trick-or-treating, and were actually out to harass smaller kids and adults alike. They started verbally harassing us, so my friend and I went off to get some baby eyes for their treat bag.
Baby eyes?
Yeah, apparently they were eyes on hooks. Literally. Eyes. On hooks.
It made sense in my dream.
When I returned, my friend wasn't on the porch. The three kids had Cheshire cat expressions, so I asked where my friend was. Innocent whistles this, looking away that, and I knew something was up.
It was then that I heard my friend thumping from INSIDE the tomb, yelling to get out. I looked up at the three hoodlums, and turned to run back into house, my phone out to dial 911, the three of them yelling after me as they began to give chase. I had the presence of mind to throw open the front door, as if to run out, then sneak off to a room to the side of the door (one with a window that I could use as an exit, if I needed that, too).
As I was dialing the emergency number, hidden in the dark room, the lights in my eyes taking on a cylon pulsing (though burnt orange instead of bright red), I heard the hoodlums run by. When two ran out the front door, and one ran into the room I was in, I realized I was dreaming, and wrenched myself awake.
To discover, the auras weren't just in my dream.
They were in my eyes.
Again.
I think this is number 16 or so for the year. This is supposed to be the best year ever. I didn't mean "the best year for migraines" when I made that statement.