01/03/03
Poet's Journal

I had a dream about Poet (a user I know online) last night. ^_^ Yes, that's kind of strange...sorry P....it wasn't anything momentous anyway, but it was rather weird. I can't remember how it began, but the part I do remember picks up with me at the computer, which oddly enough seems to be in the kitchen. The screen has some sort of dark blue pattern on it and I'm doing something, but I click the back button on the browser too quickly when I mean to click something else and so I try to click stop or something but again click wrongly, bringing up some kind of program or menu. It's shaped like a big silver abstract S or some such, spanning from the upper left corner to the lower right corner. A woman's voice comes on and starts talking about the program and what it's going to do. And I PANIC! This program can change my computer's settings or something and as I'm in the midst of something, I DON'T WANT TO DO THAT! So I think I try to close it, but I have to wait until the woman's done talking or it's done loading, so I do. Then I close it and the woman says something like "This program has been terminated," or some such. *whew* Then I'm just irritated that it wasted so much of my time when I'm in a hurry and trying to get offline to go to bed.

Let's switch to past tense here, shall we? That present-tense stuff really bugs me.

Well, I got sidetracked along the way and ended up finding Poet's online journal. As far as I know he doesn't have one, and even if he did I probably wouldn't read it because it would feel like an invasion of privacy. :) But I was curious here anyway and felt no wrong in doing it. It just took me a while because I was finishing up some things. I finally got back to his journal, which was like a cross between LiveJournal and Diaryland. Now, like in so many of my Internet-related reams, the journal became a REAL place, in physical space, not just a webpage. I think this might happen so often in my dreams because to me, the online world is an extension of my real world; I feel real feelings here, often more so than in real life, as I have next to no personal interactions with others beyond the computer screen.

Anyway...I ended up looking first at what appeared to be a sort of videogame screen, like on those big old-fashioned videogames you find in arcades. Remember those? Bleep-bleep-bloop wokka wokka wokka? I went closer and I ended up walking into this room in a basement or lower lobby or some such of a public building, and leaned over to get a close look at this screen. There was some stuff lying around below it, but on the screen was Poet's personal info that he'd entered when making the journal. He had a lot of things such as AIM and ICQ and instant messenger-type names; I remember one had a number in it, maybe 4, and some letters, like a small L; one of his screennames had "ball" in it and I remembered this was because he had had a cat named Ball. (In real life I believe his cat was named Paynt, not Ball; but in the dream, well, you know how things go.) I knew he'd taken this as part of his screenname because he loved the cat. :) There was even a little picture of it, a black and white with a mask. I can't remember the other names, but I wondered if I should write them down.

Oh, I forgot a bit before I came to this part. When I FIRST came to his journal, before noticing his contact info, I checked out the title and cover picture of it. The title referred to me in some way. I think it was inspired by the forum post he made about me on Writing.com in real life; the title may have said something about a girl and her story. This meant he'd been inspired to create the journal by me. *flush* I know I'm giving myself WAY too much credit here, but this is just the way the dream went, I didn't control it. :)

The picture on the cover was one of a baboon. A cartoon baboon. Very...weird looking. I wondered briefly why he'd have a picture of a baboon on his journal, but then it made some sort of sense. Maybe it had to do with my username? Tehuti/Thoth, after all, had as one of his sacred animals the baboon. Who knew. Flash-forward to the "videogame" part of the dream and pick up from there.

I found among the various things lying below the screen, a photo of Poet himself. He was in his forties I believe with dark gray hair and not bad looking. I was rather surprised, because online the differences between age are always minimal; I always feel everyone is my age until they say otherwise. *shrug* I made up my mind to read a bit of the journal, but then got sidetracked again by the other things lying around the screen. There was a sort of table here now, maybe something, like a clear plastic case, standing atop it, and I started to walk around it, looking for anything interesting.

There were other people here now. This seemed to be a lower-level room with all brownish tones, even the concrete floor. Kind of cozy looking, but utilitarian, like my college art room. There was a guy off in front of me digging in a clear plastic container, and maybe an Asian girl off to my left, kind of punky looking. I noticed a brand-new pack of rubber balls sitting on the table and for some reason REALLY wanted one for myself!

I approached them and picked up the pack, looking it over. The balls were all sorts of wonderful glittery colors! But this pack was unopened and possibly intended as a present for somebody, so I put it down (there may have also been plastic crystals and such around here). I found a bin of rubber balls now--two bins, I think--and started to poke around in them. I kept selecting balls and looking for better ones. They were all so pretty! While I did this I noticed the man ahead of me--possibly a teenager or in his early twenties, kind of weird looking but not self-conscious--rummaging in his own container. His contained both rubber balls and plastic/rubber crayons. They weren't real crayons, just pieces of glittery rubber shaped like crayons. He was acting like a little kid on Christmas morning, trying to pick what he wanted. I was having trouble too. There were so many colorful balls to choose from!

So instead of reading Poet's journal, I got too distracted trying to find the perfect rubber ball. Sorry, P.! ^_^;

That dream took place in about the space of ten to fifteen minutes, BTW, right after I lay down to sleep. It's like I don't even have to enter deep sleep or REM before the dreams come pouring in. Agh!



2003 Dreams
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