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Trek and Abstract

Morning of February 4, 2015. Wednesday.

I keep moving in and out of sleep over a couple hours but stay in the same general dream environment and level of consciousness. At one point I open my eyes and watch an animation of a hand-drawn red and blue daisy on the wall above the real telephone (red and blue alternating petals). I do not try to shake it off as the hypnopompic stage it is - I am not getting out of bed yet anyway. It wiggles insect-like at times, and wavy lines “swim” out from it on the wall in all directions (one “jumping” over the phone chord), as the daisy drawing breaks up into its individual smaller lines. I look near the ceiling on the wall in the room to my left. High on the wall is a series of handwritten years (each about four inches high); 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, and so on, in a column, alternating in red and blue writing for each year (for example one year written in blue, the next down in red, the next down in blue, and so on), about seven or eight dates. I am not sure of the relevance.

Over time, I keep turning to either my left or ride side (typically alternating in seemingly “precisely timed” stages) taking care not to bump my sleeping wife and making sure it is done at the right time relating to the “proofreading” system I sometimes indulge in. My task is to read through someone else’s writing - three or four paragraphs, I think; I am not sure of the content anymore. The “paragraphs” are an orange fluffy ball hanging in the air (lit from the inside as if in photographic negative), about four feet up and to the right of the bed. I have to move my essence up and down through it to “download” the English writing. I have to “read” and “reread” this orange-fluffy-ball and mentally correct any spelling errors. It gets rather boring at times…It is almost like a featureless porcupine fish rendered in the wrong area, though it is not close enough to my sleeping body to be that annoying.

At one point, I am lying on a porch at an unknown residence. I am lying there mentally reading through a newspaper that is lying open near where I am, no need to turn the pages - I read it in a dream within my dream. This is not the right newspaper, though; I am actually looking for a CD that came with a particular newspaper, something relating to animal sounds made by students in a special project - I see the advertisement for it being in another newspaper. The front door opens and an older frail man looks out at me, seemingly annoyed at first, but then he offers me a place to sleep, but then I tell him I am okay where I am. He apparently sees me as a homeless teen.

A new “Star Trek” (original series) episode is being filmed in the large parking lot of a shopping mall in La Crosse (near the old Quillin’s IGA area). I am within the story itself at first, as if it is all “real”. I am on the Enterprise and I watch the activities of a Klingon ship from a window at the end of a very small downward-slanted hallway (nothing like this on the actual show in real life) - it is close and I see a lot of detail but it does not fire. Later, I am walking around in the parking lot and see that all the ships are miniature. Does this mean all the actors had been miniaturized as well? I see no larger sets representing the inside of ships. It seems very late at night. After a short time of exploration in the parking lot, I look down at a model of the Enterprise and comment on how much of it is made of cardboard, though in fact, it is actually sitting over a rectangular cardboard “fence” and not with any cardboard in the plastic model itself.

Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner, both seeming only around forty years old at the most, are seated on benches. I ask William Shatner if they are making a new “Star Trek” episode (again, as part of the original series) and he says “yes” quite cheerfully and I say “cool” with a warm sincerity, not remembering they are rather old now and that it is not 1969 anymore.

red and blue daisy
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