10/30/02
Contacting Michibou
I had, the other night, what seemed to me to be a meaningful dream about a moderator on a website I frequent, named "Michibou." (The moderator, not the website.) I use the spelling I prefer; it may actually have been spelled "Michabo," and probably was, but I prefer "Michibou." "Michibou," as you may or may not know, is the name of the Algonquin rabbit creator god--the Great Rabbit, the same as Manabozho. Mackinac Island was his dwelling place. In my dream there was a moderator on the website by that name, and I was very excited on learning this. I wanted to contact them...I feel it was a her, or they were gender ambiguous. It didn't matter. I just wanted to get in touch. I felt I could learn things from this person. Well, I discovered, from looking at their portfolio, that they had deleted all or most of their stuff long ago, and apparently hadn't been onsite in ages. :( I was so crushed. I remember peering into a jug of water...you know those translucent jugs for holding water for storage? Squarish things? I looked into one and saw blue water swirling within (blue=the color the moderators on this site are represented by), and looked for things floating in it, but I'm not sure if I saw any; this represented the empty, abandoned state of the mod's portfolio. But then I thought to myself, I recently wrote to another user who hadn't updated their items in quite a while, and they responded promptly (in real life). What if Michibou is still around somewhere, just waiting for me to contact them? And that lifted my spirits. Straightaway I decided to contact Michibou.
Now this dream may seem completely inane to you, but to me it left me with some kind of feeling. Like it meant something. I would not be here typing it up, otherwise.
In Search Of Roman Polanski
I did not take good notes for this dream, so all I have are some spare details.
Last night I fell asleep during the second half of the second episode of Cold Case Files, so I had a rather interesting dream concerning two old men traveling Europe in search of Roman Polanski, a giant bloody stain on a city street which passersby ignored and which I washed off with a hose, me walking along a steep dirt path with wobbling wooden fort walls, Sharon Tate, me eating something (I think), a spastic hamster or rat that I had to feed, and who knows what else, by now...DAMN! I know there was more to it that I can't recall anymore! *SIGH* Well, needless to say, it was all quite strange.
2002 Dreams
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