where floors miss their numbers
I have recurring dreams that center on a large building - sometimes it's a museum, other times it is a university campus building, sometimes it's simply an apartment building. It is always palimpsestic in the sense that I enter the part of the building that is very new, hyper-modernized, and step into an elevator which takes me to a much older part. The elevator always ends up by Willy Wonka'esque, it separates itself from the building's infrastructure - it seems to float, it moves on all three axes: x, y, z.
It becomes perilous. Sometimes stepping in and out of it is akin to holding my breath, looking down 20 stories through a huge crevice, and somehow making it into the little compartment. And then off we go. It's a bumpy and unsure ride. I constantly anticipate the impending free-fall.
It's normally "we." I'm rarely alone. I'm normally accompanied by a male for whom I have an unspoken love - I don't really realize this until I wake up. We're more like sister and brother inside the dream's content. Or maybe we are just strangers with a comfortable, strong, intangible bond.
Sometimes I am in the building with a group, like a field trip or an outing - rarely do I connect with anyone. I am on the margins. The outskirts. Sometimes there is a film playing in an auditorium, sometimes I have to run to the restroom, but I always separate from the crowd.
Almost always I say, as I'm in the elevator, "I always have dreams like this." And I'm simultaneously outside and inside of the dream. Oh these folds. These landscapes. I guess I really was supposed to be in this discipline.
Now, finish up your thesis once and for all.
It becomes perilous. Sometimes stepping in and out of it is akin to holding my breath, looking down 20 stories through a huge crevice, and somehow making it into the little compartment. And then off we go. It's a bumpy and unsure ride. I constantly anticipate the impending free-fall.
It's normally "we." I'm rarely alone. I'm normally accompanied by a male for whom I have an unspoken love - I don't really realize this until I wake up. We're more like sister and brother inside the dream's content. Or maybe we are just strangers with a comfortable, strong, intangible bond.
Sometimes I am in the building with a group, like a field trip or an outing - rarely do I connect with anyone. I am on the margins. The outskirts. Sometimes there is a film playing in an auditorium, sometimes I have to run to the restroom, but I always separate from the crowd.
Almost always I say, as I'm in the elevator, "I always have dreams like this." And I'm simultaneously outside and inside of the dream. Oh these folds. These landscapes. I guess I really was supposed to be in this discipline.
Now, finish up your thesis once and for all.