Surreal sparrows: more dream fragments (12/269)

Man, I started this post, like, a while ago, at least a few weeks.
Mainly, I was just happy that I’ve been waking up with some faint memories of dreams lingering about my skull. It’s been a long, long drought for me. Hence, the screwy, artsy-fartsy, briefly alliterative, Capistrano reference.
I still haven’t dug out that breathing machine again—that $1000 breathing machine—that we purchased to address my sleep apnea, but I think I’ve been trying to sleep longer lately. Which is sort of an explanation why I haven’t posted much recently, but not entirely. Anyways, longer durations of unconsciousness may be a simple explanation for the fitful re-appearance of dreams in my life.
But, I’m a little annoyed that I’m having difficulty remembering these damn dreams! Is it because I’m out of “practice”?
Like a couple days ago: I had some dream where Bruce Springsteen was involved. Somehow. I don’t know how. That’s my point. I don’t remember anything else.
And this morning, there seemed to be a lot of business going on in my head with rain slickers, yellow rain coats, maybe other kinds of rain gear, but there was a lot of putting them on and taking them off, and there were SIGNIFICANT REASONS as to why, but those reasons escaped me upon awakening.
Grrr!
A few weeks ago I had a long dream that focused on some fictional celebrity figure, at least in the scenario I dreamt. In the same way that Bill Gates of Windows notoriety or Steve Jobs of Apple fame have become famous and influential figures upon our society, this imaginary dream personality had made an equally significant impression on our lives and they way we lived.
But the specifics..? Ah, couldn’t really tell you.
He had something to do with our everyday architecture and the way we looked at constructing our cities, professionally and residentially.
He was a popular philosopher, spouting practical, thoughtful, insightful wisdom that was accessible to the masses, like Christ’s proverbs or, um, I guess Confucius’ cookie fortunes (sorry, that was sort of meant as a joke but I guess that came across really dismissively), but he also was a genuine genius, like R. Buckminster Fuller, so that when you met him and heard his casual but enthusiastic discussion of his thoughts and ideas, there was no denying his brilliance.
And he very cleverly disseminated his thoughts/proverbs/fortunes via… origami. There would be mass-produced folded paper birds, the kind where you pull the tail and the wings gently flap?
Except, in the dream, instead of delicate and beautiful, the one origami sample I held was pretty fat and clumsy looking. Picture the aforementioned paper bird and now add a huge-ass cube for a body. Like the size of a Chinese food container.
The “idea” in the dream was that it was pretty impressive and wondrous to behold, like, “ooh, how did they do that?” But in waking hindsight, it was pretty un-wondrous and quite laughable.
But all over this fat paper bird were handwritten this wunderkind dude’s aphorisms, with those magnetic ink markers. Gold or bronze colored ink. And I remember in the dream trying my damndest to remember one of these wise gems.
Of course, no such luck.
And the kicker?
This guy had something to do with skateboarding.
He rose out of the ranks of skateboarders.

But I never saw him. I just knew of his existence and his impact on “our” world.

Weird, man.

But, I’m dreaming again!
And THAT’S what makes me happy.


12/269
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