Another from the Dream Records

 

September 6, 1991  (I was 46)

 

             Another from the Dream Records

         Nathan, Lauren Cheryl and I have an apartment on

the second floor mezzanine level of Space Mountain in

Disneyland.  It’s small and rather old, but we think it’s

perfect enough to be wondering if it will be available for

our vacation next year.  The line for the attraction passes
in front of the living room windows and our front door. 

Park visitors comment in surprise that the apartment

exists, and “Wow, people live right here!”  Cheryl and I

obviously teach in Disneyland, perhaps at a school for

employee’s kids.  I take Nate and Lauren to a library

located near the Main Street hub.  I do some research,

and students are studying there as Nathan and Lauren

browse for books.  I wake up.

from the dream records

 

August 26, 1991  (I was 46)

 

from the dream records

         In the side yard of my mother’s house in Keewatin I sit on the simple wood-frame of a go-cart made by my young son Nathan.  I position myself in balance, then I fly it over the fence and across the sidewalk in front of the house. The town looks rejuvenated.  The Itasca Theater is back, merchants are flourishing, a street sale is on with goods displayed.  I’m at an altitude of six feet and run into Elizabeth Michelich and her daughter, Betty looking as they did thirty years ago.  They are amazed, as are others on the street, to see the bare frame fly.  Elizabeth says, “You should make more of those.  You could sell them easily.”  I know that she doesn’t understand, and I don’t explain, that the vehicle flies by will, not by any source of power.  It is actually I that is flying.  I take it to about fifteen feet and soar down the street.

 

 

August 8, 1991  (I was 46)

 

from the Dream Records

         Before an upcoming performance of OLIVER at the Amador High Theater, an announcement is made saying the audience will be treated to a short set of solo work by drummer Mickey Hart.  Having attended the World Drum Festival in S.F. shortly before, I was elated.  The theater was open-air, covered with tent-like banners (more similar to the Disneyland Videopolis than the Amador Theater).  Hart performed both on trap drums and some more exotic ones.  I felt it was a fitting encore to the Drum Festival.  The audience dispersed quickly and Hart was standing alone in front of the stage.  I spoke to him and he seemed genuinely pleased when I mentioned his friends at the festival and how impressed I was with the event.  I spoke of Seiichi Tanaka, and momentarily mind-blocked, had to ask about the huge drum he played.  Hart reminded me that it was a Taiko drum.  I also told him I had seen a news spot where he had spoken before a congressional committee with Dr. Oliver Sacks on the benefits of music for the ailing and the aged.  He was a bit surprised that the news reached California.  I shook his hand and the dream ended. 

Another from the Dream Records

September 6, 1991  (I was 46)

             Another from the Dream Records

         Nathan, Lauren Cheryl and I have an apartment on

the second floor mezzanine level of Space Mountain in

Disneyland.  It’s small and rather old, but we think it’s

perfect enough to be wondering if it will be available for

our vacation next year.  The line for the attraction passes
in front of the living room windows and our front door. 

Park visitors comment in surprise that the apartment

exists, and “Wow, people live right here!”  Cheryl and I

obviously teach in Disneyland, perhaps at a school for

employee’s kids.  I take Nate and Lauren to a library

located near the Main Street hub.  I do some research,

and students are studying there as Nathan and Lauren

browse for books.  I wake up.

from the dream records

August 26, 1991  (I was 46)

from the dream records

         In the side yard of my mother’s house in Keewatin I sit on the simple wood-frame of a go-cart made by my young son Nathan.  I position myself in balance, then I fly it over the fence and across the sidewalk in front of the house. The town looks rejuvenated.  The Itasca Theater is back, merchants are flourishing, a street sale is on with goods displayed.  I’m at an altitude of six feet and run into Elizabeth Michelich and her daughter, Betty looking as they did thirty years ago.  They are amazed, as are others on the street, to see the bare frame fly.  Elizabeth says, “You should make more of those.  You could sell them easily.”  I know that she doesn’t understand, and I don’t explain, that the vehicle flies by will, not by any source of power.  It is actually I that is flying.  I take it to about fifteen feet and soar down the street.

from the Dream Records

August 8, 1991  (I was 46)

from the Dream Records

         Before an upcoming performance of OLIVER at the Amador High Theater, an announcement is made saying the audience will be treated to a short set of solo work by drummer Mickey Hart.  Having attended the World Drum Festival in S.F. shortly before, I was elated.  The theater was open-air, covered with tent-like banners (more similar to the Disneyland Videopolis than the Amador Theater).  Hart performed both on trap drums and some more exotic ones.  I felt it was a fitting encore to the Drum Festival.  The audience dispersed quickly and Hart was standing alone in front of the stage.  I spoke to him and he seemed genuinely pleased when I mentioned his friends at the festival and how impressed I was with the event.  I spoke of Seiichi Tanaka, and momentarily mind-blocked, had to ask about the huge drum he played.  Hart reminded me that it was a Taiko drum.  I also told him I had seen a news spot where he had spoken before a congressional committee with Dr. Oliver Sacks on the benefits of music for the ailing and the aged.  He was a bit surprised that the news reached California.  I shook his hand and the dream ended. 

from the Dream Records

from this week in August, 1991  (I was 46)

                                    from the Dream Records

            I am at the Hopkins gym in Fremont California helping George

Taufer teach basketball before the start of the first day of school.  I

recognize only one boy, a former student, Phil Richards, a pain-in-the

butt, egotistical poor student. The basketball ends and George and I

herd milling students to class, when another boy sets of a sizeable

spark from a device resembling a wand or “magic flame” barbeque

lighter. 

            I approach the boy to discipline him with the intention of

letting him off with a warning not to bring the device to school.  When

he balks, I tell him he is now going to the principal, explaining that

Hopkins students followed teachers’ orders.  He remains mildly insolent

until separated from his peers.  Then he tried to get off by being

apologetic, but I say it’s too late for that. 

            We approach the office by crossing a street, which becomes

Howard Avenue in Hibbing, Minnesota, to the State Theater, where I

find Principal Tim Reichert in the lobby.  I hand the boy over with an

explanation of the situation.  Tim asks to see the device, then asks

the boy to demonstrate it.  The kid says he can’t because it needs to

be recharged, and it costs ten dollars.  Tim remarks that at least it no

longer presents a danger.

            I awoke and later realized the device seemed similar to a

description of a “laser ray” in a science catalog my son Nathan

received in the mail the day before.

Another from the Dream Records

September 6, 1991  (I was 46)

         Another from the Dream Records

         Nathan, Lauren Cheryl and I have an apartment on

the second floor mezzanine level of Space Mountain in

Disneyland.  It’s small and rather old, but we think it’s

perfect enough to be wondering if it will be available for

our vacation next year.  The line for the attraction passes
in front of the living room windows and our front door. 

Park visitors comment in surprise that the apartment

exists, and “Wow, people live right here!”  Cheryl and I

obviously teach in Disneyland, perhaps at a school for

employee’s kids.  I take Nate and Lauren to a library

located near the Main Street hub.  I do some research,

and students are studying there as Nathan and Lauren

browse for books.  I wake up.

from the dream records

August 26, 1991  (I was 46)

from the dream records

         In the side yard of my mother’s house in Keewatin I sit on the simple wood-frame of a go-cart made by my young son Nathan.  I position myself in balance, then I fly it over the fence and across the sidewalk in front of the house. The town looks rejuvenated.  The Itasca Theater is back, merchants are flourishing, a street sale is on with goods displayed.  I’m at an altitude of six feet and run into Elizabeth Michelich and her daughter, Betty looking as they did thirty years ago.  They are amazed, as are others on the street, to see the bare frame fly.  Elizabeth says, “You should make more of those.  You could sell them easily.”  I know that she doesn’t understand, and I don’t explain, that the vehicle flies by will, not by any source of power.  It is actually I that is flying.  I take it to about fifteen feet and soar down the street.

from the Dream Records

August 8, 1991  (I was 46)

from the Dream Records

         Before an upcoming performance of OLIVER at the Amador High Theater, an announcement is made saying the audience will be treated to a short set of solo work by drummer Mickey Hart.  Having attended the World Drum Festival in S.F. shortly before, I was elated.  The theater was open-air, covered with tent-like banners (more similar to the Disneyland Videopolis than the Amador Theater).  Hart performed both on trap drums and some more exotic ones.  I felt it was a fitting encore to the Drum Festival.  The audience dispersed quickly and Hart was standing alone in front of the stage.  I spoke to him and he seemed genuinely pleased when I mentioned his friends at the festival and how impressed I was with the event.  I spoke of Seiichi Tanaka, and momentarily mind-blocked, had to ask about the huge drum he played.  Hart reminded me that it was a Taiko drum.  I also told him I had seen a news spot where he had spoken before a congressional committee with Dr. Oliver Sacks on the benefits of music for the ailing and the aged.  He was a bit surprised that the news reached California.  I shook his hand and the dream ended. 

from the Dream Records

from this week in August, 1991  (I was 46)

         from the Dream Records

         I am at the Hopkins gym in Fremont California helping George

Taufer teach basketball before the start of the first day of school.  I

recognize only one boy, a former student, Phil Richards, a pain-in-the

butt, egotistical poor student. The basketball ends and George and I

herd milling students to class, when another boy sets off a sizeable

spark from a device resembling a wand or “magic flame” barbeque

lighter. 

         I approach the boy to discipline him with the intention of

letting him off with a warning not to bring the device to school.  When

he balks, I tell him he is now going to the principal, explaining that

Hopkins students followed teachers orders.  He remains mildly insolent

until separated from his peers.  Then he tries to get off by being

apologetic, but I say it’s too late for that. 

         We approach the office by crossing a street, which becomes

Howard Avenue in Hibbing, Minnesota, to the State Theater, where I

find Principal Tim Reichert in the lobby.  I hand the boy over with an

explanation of the situation.  Tim asks to see the device, then asks

the boy to demonstrate it.  The kid says he can’t because it needs to

be recharged, and it costs ten dollars.  Tim remarks that at least it no

longer presents a danger.

         I awoke and later realized the device seemed similar to a

description of a “laser ray” in a science catalog my son Nathan

received in the mail the day before.