It is safer to be inside right now, because we don't know when they will strike. I am with my family and we hold hands, just in case it would happen without warning. That way we would all be together in our last moment. But we wait and nothing happens. Not yet. I suggest we move away from the living room and the windows, and so we walk toward the kitchen and stand behind the fireplace. It is dark inside the house, and the anticipation of something unknown is almost tangible. I do still think some of us will survive, and I know there is hope.

I am going to the store with A. It is winter and we are walking through an underground mall. Things look unorganized and whimsical, but people are buying and selling stuff even if times are unsure. Then I walk through a grocery store and I feel how people stare at me. They look at me quietly, and pay attention to what I buy. I end up having three large plastic bags, and I have to pull them behind me as I walk.

Up on a bare fell-mountain in Lapland, a Finnish musician is playing on a harp. He is playing the Finlandia Hymn and it is resonating over the great landscape below. It is a very beautiful moment, and I am listening to the music with great care. For the first time I understand the meaning of the melody, and I wonder how they brought that instrument so far up on such a desolate place. I don't think anyone could have carried it. Moss, lichen, and small lingonberry plants cover the rocky mountain. And there he sits playing his instrument to the flat landscape below. I think it might be the last song the landscape will hear.

While awake...

Recently I rediscovered glosses.net, and I went to see Big Fish in the middle of the week! I am very glad I did.

This morning I literally saw an 'X' in the sky!

While awake...

Visit Harmless Kitty in New York City. She'll give you a good idea of the contrasts between life in Finland and life here in the States.

Satan's Laundromat will take care of all your dirty laundry...

Booklend and BookCrossing make reading an even bigger adventure.

While awake...

Just listen to this, just listen to it.

It has been so many years since I have seen my parents. So many years with so much strangeness that I have lost track of it all. Now I am sitting in a waiting room. In front of me, behind a desk, a well-dressed young woman with her hair tied in a bun is talking to me. I am meeting with her because she has some news for me. I learn that I will be able to meet my parents! I ask her what has happened, where they have been, why I haven't been able to see them before. She stands up from behind her desk and walks over to me, smiling. She tells me that I will in a few moments see my parents. She points to a door - see, they are right behind that door, and when you see them they will be able to tell you exactly what has happened, and you will be able to ask them anything you want. I am getting scared now. The steps across the room toward the door seem so long and agitating - the uncertainty of what really will be behind that door frightens me. And so the woman opens the door for me, and in steps my dad. He is so tall, taller than I can remember. But it isn't my dad that I am curious about, no, he steps forward and behind him I see mom. Oh, my mom. My whole aware mind freezes at the sight of her. I see a woman, a small woman, whose will for life has left her. Left is only the body, the shell. Her arms are hanging at her sides, almost lacking energy to move, and her eyes are pointed at the floor or somewhere down. She quietly moves in to the room but doesn't look at me. I know she can see me, but neither she nor dad are smiling, crying, or reacting in any way. I am afraid and shocked and curious. Very curious. Where have they been? How much time has passed? And my mother -- she stops right in front of me with her eyes pointed somewhere on my chest. I see her face so clearly now. It is so grey, so filled with dry wrinkles, and so very tired and drained. I have never before seen a face so utterly and completely void of... hope? energy? strength? I don't know what it is, but without it her face and whole appearance is so filled with angst and darkness that it's hard to look at her. Then she speaks to me: "Now I am going to hold you for a while." Those are her exact words. I hear them so clearly, and then we embrace. I am taller than her, and I hold her tight, but my eyes don't get moist even if I do feel emotional - no, instead I cannot get rid of the very strange feeling I have. That feeling of not being able to recognize something in her - and the very sad and scary feeling I had when looking at her - intensifies. I do know that it's my mother, and then she lets go. Now we stand facing each other. Again I see her aged face. She is not old, but her face has changed. Now her eyes begin to move up, and up toward my eyes and face, and when she reaches up there she looks at me in horror! Her face begins to change into a scream, something filled with terror spreads in her eyes as her mouth opens and begins to sound...

While awake...

It's fun to look through dream dictionaries - especially after a night filled with dreams I will not share in public... I will not find the meaning of those dreams in a dictionary. I already know what they mean. I love what they mean. I smile.

Mark Kozelek's voice was indeed handsome. Sigh. I hope you had a chance to go to the Troubadour on Saturday. It was a strange sight looking at all the people during the concert. Nobody moved. Everyone stood still, very quietly listening to the beautiful voice. I am very glad and I did forgive him for not playing Roller Coaster... (which is probably the most beautiful song in the world).

Rollercoaster

there's my favorite rollercoaster
next to the blue water
the one only sissies ride
there's the sun
going down
creating that florescent glow
reminding me I'll never be able
to relive this day
except in memory

there's those big barking fish
in the concrete stream
growling for dog food
bulging dead eyes that gleam
but where's dad
and where is mom
looks like from here on out
it's just me and you
looks like from here on
out it's just me and you

Red House Painters Lyrics

While awake...

There has been some discussion about hypnagogia on the Dream Forum I occasionally take part in. But the source of this particular article would not be approved by any of my science teachers... So with that in mind - read it!

The Quantitative Study of Dreams will provide more a more scientific approach to the topic. I do admit it's not as fun to read through - but nevertheless fascinating if you happen to be appropriately awake at the time.

Sleep Home Pages are yet another bucket-full from the vastness of dream websites. Most dream websites are pushing the paranormal and many discussion boards become stages where people compete for attention by proclaiming paranormal skills. It's very entertaining, but at the same time it would be fun to find a forum where the approach would be a bit more grounded... yeah, scientific. I don't mind some paranormal stuff - in fact, I find it very interesting. But excessive talk of leylines and crystals drive me away.

If anyone can find a link to the poem "Falling" by James Dickey, please let me know. I would love to read it.

While awake...

Sorry if you don't live close to Vidiots.

Baby #2

A and I have a baby (again, I know this is getting somewhat symbolic and perhaps repetitive -- and embarrassing to ask my husband "Guess what I dreamed?"). It's a girl and she is so small that I can hold her in my palm. Sometimes she is larger and I hold her as one would a newborn baby, against my chest. I feel warmth and love for this new life. I get ready to check the baby's diaper and ask her if she thinks she needs a change, not really expecting an answer but still talking to her in a grown-up voice. She replies! Just a few words but fully understandable and it all makes sense and relates to my question. Afterward I carry her inside a large sock! She snuggles in there.

While awake...

I will let you know if I have any more baby-dreams. I do prefer them to nightmares...

While awake...

Don't miss Mark Kozelek at the Troubadour next Saturday! He has the most handsome voice one can or can't imagine.
And if you will miss this sold-out show with yeah yeah yeahs - at least listen to some of their music on the website. Very nice stuff.

Last but not least; visit Inklings. I wish I could move my stuff over to TypePad...

A and I have a baby boy. He is perhaps two or three months old and sits on the floor. A is playing with him and rocking our baby with great motion from side to side and then back and forth - as if sitting in a rocking chair that rocks in all directions. I point out that it isn't necessary to rock in such large motions, that smaller movements will still feel fun for the baby. We sit on the floor with our son and he makes baby noises, and then he says a word. It is a grown-up word (not a swear word but a word only grown ups would use), and it is so surprising to hear it, and of course wonderful and exciting. I hold our baby and notice how strong his hands are as the small fingers grab me. He smiles widely and does that baby-rattle with his arms and legs, and we continue to play with our baby, A and I.

While awake...

Yes! I simply cannot wait for it to happen!

Red Colony
Mars Society

Thunderbirds are go!

It is winter and I am inside a strange dormatory. I see many of my old friends and aquaintances from the past. Bizarre events take place. A naked woman walks up to A and they walk out of the room together. I cannot believe my eyes. I walk over to a bunkbed and lie down, and think to myself whether I really look that awful.

I look at the frozen pond outside, and as we get dressed I regret what I put on and redress. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and notice that I have a hairdo with the most feathered hairstyle I have ever seen or felt for that matter. I touch my hair and it is so sprayed and brittle that I am afraid it will break and fall apart at the touch. Bizarre! And I would never ever in this world or hopefully any other wear my hair like that...brrrr!

I pour home-made mead from one glass flagon into another. It is then I realize that the mead remains in one container at the same level even if I pour it into another. Soon I have two containers filled with mead. I think to myself that it is a little odd, but don't think more of it than that.

My old friend S or someone else is getting married. All of my old friends show up and people begin talking about old times. S keeps asking me if I am thirsty. I think she wants me to go with her to have a drink. We go into the kitchen. It is very big, and she has cupboards filled with wonderful and large glasses. Someone points out that it is just like S - and she does have a large collection of glasses, plates, pots and pans. Her sister sits quietly at the kitchen table and I barely say hello as I pass her. Weird that her sister is so quiet. Normally she is chatty. I take a large juice-glass that I am going to use for the mead.

Now I shake hands with relatives. They sit on a couch and I walk up to each of them to shake hands and hug them, one by one. Then I come to A who died several years ago. But he is not dead. He smiles warmly. My eyes stop for a while on him, probably in wonderment. Then I move on to the next person. First afterwards I begin wondering why he was there and alive, because he already died.

While awake...

Gott Nytt Ar!

I have no idea how they did it but they did it ! I am afraid of the ocean and would not sail across any larger bodies of water - yet I love the great expanses of water. I am afraid of space but would love to travel into the unknown - and even with the knowledge of the possibility of never returning to Earth. I hope that one day my children's children or their children will get the chance.

This year I will embark on a new adventure - I realize now I don't have an infinite amount of time here, and I want to see and do so many things!

Still jet-lagged but the dreams are rich and heavy, as induced by drugs - the body's own drugs.

I am thankful to be home again, safe. With A.