Dream: Cross-Country Rectangle
Oct 21, 2006, 9:45a
I was at a camp, somewhere near the coast or on an island. The order of events is blurry in my mind, but I do remember that we had arrived at the camp in order to compete in a cross-country race. The people on the team included Buzz, Jeremy Winter, Brian Rakowski, and I think other members of my cross-country team from high school. We were late arriving to the camp site, which looked more like a San Francisco pier. I drove up in my parents' "sandstone" Toyota Previa minivan (I always resented the word "sandstone" - the car is brown, so please just call it that - making fancy words for simple concepts is the epitome of socialized, commercialized male cow shit). There was a problem with the car - the license plate was falling off the back bumper. It was jerry-rigged together with some fishing line, but wasn't staying on. I pulled it off and decided to just throw it in the trunk, but thought better of driving around without a license plate. An older man came up and started banging on the place where the license plate was supposed to go with a hammer. He banged on it a few times before I realized he was hammering on a light bulb so I had him stop. Luckily the bulb didn't break.
We went inside the building to register. We all went to get ready, as the race was starting in 15 minutes. We went behind the building where there was a large hill filled with oak trees. We didn't really know where the race was going to be, so we decided to start running up the hill as a warm-up. Everyone also had to pee, so before running up everyone found a tree or semi-private place to pee. I of course had trouble peeing in public so even though I found a spot I wasn't able to go. Brian was peeing a wild stream toward me and it was bit distracting - it was like a broken hydrant shooting out. It didn't actually touch me or anything.
We ran up the hill, and were surprised to see another building which turned out to be the race site. Inside the building was some sort of astro-turf. The fans stood around the perimeter - there were no bleachers. Some younger kids were already racing in *very* short races - they were basically sprinting 10m and then stopping and starting again. I think each round some people got disqualified, perhaps the slowest ones. The referee was playing with the runners' minds, telling them all sorts of fake "on your mark, get set, go"s so he could see how well they were listening and disqualify them if the false-started. The kids thought this was normal - I did not. After several more rounds of 10m sprints, their race was over and it was our turn.
There was white, tall rectangle drawn into the turf. Our race was to run around the rectangle as fast as we could. The rectangle was about 10 ft wide and 30 ft tall. We started running around, and I was running very fast. Eventually people started dropping out, and I was still on a tear. Toward the end of the race, it was just me and John Fu. I nearly lapped him, and then the race was over. The referee sat in the middle of the rectangle elevated like a life guard on the beach or a referee in a tennis match.
Back at the airport, we were rushing to our terminal. Except it wasn't really an airport, but a series of 3-walled rooms connected by open hallways. The rooms didn't have any doors through which to board a plane. We sat down in our terminal, and the black, male attendant asked us what we would like to watch. They had a TV mounted about 4 feet off the floor. I went to change the channel, and the attendant instead changed it 1 channel up, and I shook my head. He went another channel up, and I shook my head. The channels were very static-y with lots of snow.
Meanwhile, some hotshot executive had just arrived at the airport. She had an assistant with her, when all of a sudden the walls and roofs started crashing down around her. She was on a floor above ours, and she walked as if she owned the place, which I think she may have. She was upset and storming around, and didn't seem to really notice the walls crashing down, unscathed by the chaos.
Read comments (4) - Comment
Buzz
- Oct 21, 2006, 5:16p
Dear Nikhil's subconscious,
Why am I not featured more prominently in this dream? Am I peeeing? Where am I peeing? And how much?
Buzz
- Oct 27, 2006, 10:56p
In the name of vocab diversity, sandstone is a perfectly reasonable color and I personally would not be caught dead in a ‘male cow shit brown’ minivan, inside Nikhil’s dreamworld or outside of it.
Granted, I may suffer from innumeracy, but you, kind sir, are flirting with illiteracy!
Buzz
- Oct 30, 2006, 11:23p
And where am I peeing?
nikhil
- Oct 31, 2006, 12:49a
i don't remember observing you peeing
« Book Notes: Copyright's Highway by Paul Goldstein
-
Dream: Concentration Camp »
|