Freeday 7 May 1999
Pic of the day: The talking head is back. It's been a while, notice how my hair has grown. It does that all the time.
I'm, like, highly confused. I just woke up from a very long and very complicated dream, in which I among other things shared an enormous flat in New York with GabGab and a few other urban professionals. It was in fact so spacious that you did not get the impression of living with other people except when you wanted to be social - I had several small rooms of my own and so had the others, plus the largish common rooms. This dream was also so incredibly long that I managed to move away, dream something less interesting, and later to move back in, listen to a long chat, and finally go to bed.
Suddenly the dream changed to a new dream, quite different. I was back in Norway. It was a overcast, drizzly day. I was trying to make my way to the west, except I was not on a road: I was following the seashore. But the way I was going, the seashore was slowly changing into cliffs rising from the sea; and finally I was forced to step into the water with one foot. After I did that, I turned and went back to my mother who was waiting or slowly following a while behind me. And I told her that she must not follow me where I was going.
Still angry for being foiled by nature, I grabbed the head of the bronze horse (which in the real world stands in the main street of Kristiansand, I tend to see it every lunch break). With a soft cracking sound the thing started to break. Shocked, I stopped while it was still just a big crack, and got myself away from there. But later I saw some people actually opening the horse and it was only a thin bronze shell, inside were cassettes. Lots of them. No wonder it had cracked.
I woke up and wondered why the clock radio had not awakened me. Then remembered that it was Saturday. Then I looked at the clock and it was like 2:30 AM. I was in bed, but I had not the faintest idea how. The last thing I remember was that I had been out jogging, came home, took a shower and dried off. When I came home from jogging, the screensaver had been running; when I came back to the living room, the screensaver had stopped and the screen was back to where it had been when I went out jogging. My memories stop in front of the computer, and the next I remember I wake up from this incredibly long dream at the time I'd normally go to bed. And I've not updated my Web Journal, as I always try to do before going to bed, no matter how tired.
In other news from the day: Got the tickets for the train. The cheapskates at Province had bought me a seat on the night train rather than a bed. So, no showing off my beautiful pink boxer shorts. (I once found that my -new- red jogging suit did not need the whole washing machine to itself, it could certainly afford to share the space with my white boxers.) The trouble with seats are that you never know if you're gonna grab some sleep. I can sleep almost anywhere, but the quality is reduced, and so I'll presumably spend much of the 5 hours meeting/demonstration sleeping, too. Then again, if I'm lucky and get a double seat for myself in one of the new comfortable rail cars, it's nearly as good as a bed. They have just enough space to curl up in a comfortable position. I'll still smell like horse at the meeting, but that's not my problem. It's not like I'll make a move on any of the assembled.