Dream states

Before reflecting here on our SoDak roadtrip, I need to do some processing. For now I can say I feel more refreshed and happy than I have in some time. I want to go on savoring it before the deluge.

I don’t usually recall my dreams, but under the influence of vacation it’s like my subconscious is riding the Tilt-a-Whirl.

Episodes include arriving at my high school reunion like it was opening night at Cannes—gowns, lavish receptions, bodily perfection. Even the geeks look amazing. There’s a dawning awareness that I’m underdressed and in every other way glamor-impaired. I sheepishly re-introduce myself to classmates like I’m meeting the band backstage. When I locate my good friends, they’re lost in a haze of heavy drugs and unable to speak.

A similar dream had me stumbling through a maze of conference rooms in Hot New York Ad Agency X like I’m looking for the toilet, avoiding eye contact and trying to seem purposeful when I actually can’t figure out why I’m there. I’m shoving my minuscule portfolio deep into my pocket while hiding in a back stairwell (which is itself fabulously designed).

Anxiety creeps in even when I’m at ease. What’s with that?

In last night’s foray, I went for a jog with a person I don’t know well. She surprised me with a pile of worthless gifts: old printed matter, found objects, thrift store media—my favorite things. When I thanked her, she teared up.

> Listen: Negativland – Favorite Things

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