The Man Who Was Fireproof

A dream last night.

"Hawaii," 1960s or 1970s.

I was someone else. Civilian working on a military base. The only reason I can think its the late 60s or 70s is the facial hair and clothes. Big mustaches, big glasses and sunglasses.

Emergency. Volcanic eruption. I or rather this man that I was, in the midst of chaos of evacuees walks towards the heat. Fires that I touch go out, and I remember it being very peaceful. People rush past me, some covered in ashes as I move towards the nascent volcano on the coast. Burning cloth and straw thatch wink out, the fires not so much extinguished as just gone.

As I approach the cone I feel afraid. Firefighters are hosing the landward side trying to harden the 'a'a flow and direct it out towards the ocean. I walk up the side of the mounding cone. My shoes melt, and I try to keep myself from sinking in the hot, hot rock as the sun is setting. That would be the end of me. The rock cools where I stand, still hot enough to burn, hot enough to turn the rubber of my shoes to goo, but cool enough to walk on. The sun is just about gone as I reach the summit, and the stars shine overhead. My heart is shaking, but the fires cool as I stand on the mount. The firetrucks have left now.

The next day I wander back to the base. People are celebrating. The firefighters and some of the military command are getting the accolades. I'm ash covered and tired, and I see some of my friends at the base, also scientists and civilians rushing over. They are surprised to see me alive since I had disappeared yesterday. One guy has me around the shoulders and asks someone to take a picture of us, saying that this could be 30 years from now. Bewildered I ask what he's talking about and he leads me to a mirror. My hair is streaked with grey and not from the ash, it has actually turned grey in many places from its normal dark brown.

(this is also where I can see that its not me in the dream, as I don't look like this guy, nor could I sport a mustache so full.)

Last part of the dream I stalk into the mess hall and make my way to the kitchen and I brush past indignant brass that's getting all the praise for their heroism. I pour myself a stiff drink.

Filmed On Location in Archetypal Cities

Once again,

The insider, the rebel. Oppressive totalitarian government. A city on the coast, built upon the ruins of former civilizations. Part of the city has become a prison. I am inside this prison with my family. In appearance, it is part Providence, part Mykonos, Greece... only there's technology enough to support Giant Robots. (too much anime)

The themes have been played before... resist the oppressive authority, secretly aid resistance groups, stealthily escape from the city, dramatically escape from the city.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Thirty-Six_Dramatic_Situations

So, what is the meaning in my dreams? I haven't kept a dream journal since I filled my last one. I'm thinking I should remedy that.

A Walk

Good morning internets. Pics & work habits.

Sometimes I forget about this here internet thing. What with real life and all. My social networking skills (read: obsession) are falling by the wayside. But I still have awesome dreams and I still take great digital photos... If I can ever remember to post it on the internet that would be swell. I only seem to remember at the beginning of the month when my flickr account has been refreshed, and I realized I just lost a month's worth of potential storage. Then I don't upload anything out of frustration and the cycle continues. Now I stare at a multi-GB backload of photos and procrastinate uploading them in favor of work.

Which I also don't want to do. I was speaking with M. last night, and told her of my terrible habit. When I'm overloaded with stress, instead of doing something for myself that would relax me or be fun, I say "oh, I have work to do, I cannot possibly take time away to have fun." But then I don't end up doing the work anyway, and I feel I've wasted the day or evening. I could have at least enjoyed myself and not done the work. I'd have ended up in the same place but feeling better.

garlic, my love

Soup: 2 cups chicken stock 2 cups water 1/2 mediumm onion 3 cloves garlic 4 crimini mushrooms 1 small sweet potato 2 harvest gold local farmers market potatoes 1 parsnip 1 carrot 1 1/2 cups lentils 3 leaves kale shredded mozzarella sage rosemary cumin salt pepper The Cars Greatest Hits High Note 2008 'elevated' Malbec Sourdough loaf = so good.

In the Mountains

Dreamed I was in the mountains, snow snow everywhere. Not like here in Rhode Island. There's just wind and rain. Winter settles-in in my dreams even though I haven't lived in Vermont for almost three years.

And such wind. Its a Rhode Island commodity. We could export it. On the plus side it's good for sailing if its not too fierce.

I realized in the small hours of this morning that I haven't been writing to the void because I haven't been alone in a while. I used to write more when I was lonely. I suppose its not a bad thing, to not be lonely. I had grown so used to it. In some ways I enjoyed my solitude, but I am discovering that you don't always have to do things on your own, despite the American value of self-reliance. Its a value that I adhered fiercely to, and I'm trying to give it up.

Hello New Year. Hello Blog.

It's been a long time since I've typed anything into livejournal. The last six months I pretty much abandoned most of my internet haunts. I spread myself too thin, and then last semester was a beast. Excuses, excuses.

There was a time when writing was almost as frequent as breathing. I've missed it. I've developed a dislike for reading on a computer screen though. Two things have convinced me to return to LJ. First, I've read three books in the four weeks I've been off from school. Nothing of consequence, but man, I really missed the paperback. I'm starting in on a fourth already. Second has been my application to Harvard. Between fabulous new vocabulary for the GRE and writing and rewriting my essay, I remembered why I used to write in the first place.

I am quite rusty though. I'd like to be able to hone up my fiction skills again, to where they were, and beyond. This is my final semester of college though, pending grad school acceptance or not, and I'm going to dedicate myself to making it count. So I'll journal when and where I can. But no more multiple online journals. The thought of chronicling my life in several places became daunting, so I just quit altogether except to one-line journal my life through facebook. It's more satisfying than speaking to the anonymous internet. Friends and family who care to keep up see daily the minutiae of my life.

So, life. The most consequential event of the unchronicled past is that I'm dating again. Which has had its ups and downs, but overall has been quite nice. Another bit about LJ that I've avoided is being completely candid. I fear that if I speak the complete truth that someone I know will read about it and get back to me with phantom judgments. Perhaps its an irrational fear, and that's the little "lock" entry mode's purpose. I'm going to start writing my dreams again in as vivid detail as I care to elaborate. I just hope it doesn't sound like some trashy sci-fi novella.

Last bit for tonight: I am having reservations about the upcoming job for the Navy. I was adamantly against it when I was first offered the position, and then I figured that it would be a different challenge to take on something outside of my normal comfort zone. Now I'm wondering if I should have listened to my initial gut reaction. Time will tell how this little story will play out.

I lied, one more. Communication has been tricky-iffy-WTF. Some is my fault, but I see it universally around me. My apologies to those who I care about deeply and have left in the dark, though most of you won't be reading this anyway. And those with whom I have deliberately severed ties will just have to deal with it. I can't be nice to everyone anymore. I fear that I'm being an asshole. Still, in the end, it will only matter to me, and I couldn't handle taking on everything anymore. This semester will be a test of how well I learned my lessons last semester.

I've stopped with the caffeine too. I was drinking so much tea during projects last semester the chemicals were getting to me. It's decaf from now on.