a function of anomalistic and draconic periods of the moon
That moment when you are walking downtown to the farmer’s market at 0-skunk-30 and your little reptile brain is totally focused on watching for skunks because, you know, it’s 0-skunk-30 and that’s when the blasted skunks are out. And the person you are walking with says something about how his sleep was invaded by 18-year solar cycles and he can’t get them out of his head. My friend, THAT is known as a “processing dream”.
I know about those. I used to practice flute fingerings in my sleep and probably piano too although I remember the flute stuff more. I don’t really do that anymore but in my adult dreams, my brain spends a lot of time typing or analyzing various programming languages or code or flowcharts or even spreadsheets. Whatever.
I have “packing” dreams too. My best memory of this is when Lizard Breath was a baby and I was sitting on the floor somewhere. The Landfill? Grandma’s Other House The Real House Where She Lives Some Of The Days? The Moomincabin? I dunno and it doesn’t matter. I was stuffing stuff into a diaper bag and whenever I thought I was done stuffing stuff in there, a whole bunch more stuff would materialize outta nowhere. Baby toys and clothing and whatever. Of course, we couldn’t leave *any* of this stuff behind because that would just be a tragedy. Why? Now that I am in a long, slow but persistent deacquisitional phase, I do not know.
Then there are the shoreline dreams. Where big wooded islands materialize in the middle of our bay or whole lakes materialize in the swamp behind us or the system of bays over by Cedar Point and Mosquito Bay take on dramatically different characteristics. Big rivers and things. Heck, once there was even a damn ski hill behind the moomincabin, complete with rope tow or something like that. No snow though. It was summer in the dream. Shoreline dreams have something to do with my emotional life but damned if I could tell you what. Sometimes they exhaust me, especially nowadays when more and more people pop into them from over on the other side. I am also sure that they inspire no small amount of creativity, not to mention love for existing moominbeach folks.
I have had the ubiquitous “freighter coming into shore” moominbeach dream but it isn’t my usual moominbeach dream. For me, the freighter dream thing is a subset of the shoreline dream thing. My fave ever freighter dream was a large freighter heading for shore at a *high* rate of speed, charging up on the beach and through the woods veering east just in time to miss the moomincabin. Actually, I think my brain was re-creating a random cocktail-hour incident at the moomincabin when a deer crashed through the woods in roughly the same trajectory. Sam (dog, not archaeologist) went ballistic with barking and that made Guinea Pig squeak like mad and for about three split seconds bedlam reigned at the moomincabin. And then laughter a-plenty because the Fin Fam always tries to laugh with each other if at all possible (and I bet there was another eighth ‘hattan for Grandroobly)
Anyway, fun times at the farmer’s market this morning and all the fresh produce we could carry the two miles uphill to home. Plus tomatoes from Mouse’s garden and apples from our apple tree. I have never in the almost three decades we’ve lived here seen that apple tree produce so many apples.
Lake Erie Metropark by sunrise tomorrow or bust!
Good night,
Kayak Woman