No, not trapped, why do you ask?
Jan. 11th, 2005 03:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
triadruidNot much I remember from yesterday's dreams; something about scenes/setups from Terminator mythology, including working with Sarah Connor, except of course that I had the urge to nickname her Pez. Some of you will get the reference... (note: short for Pezzini). Very vague.
Tonight, though, was a pretty elaborate dreamscape. I was in present-day or near-future Baghdad. There was of course still a large American presence, and security was better but not great. Some regiment was doing maneuvers in front of a large government building; I couldn't tell if it was Iraqi or American or joint personnel. I wasn't quite sure what I was doing, to be honest (in the manner of some dreams); there was a lot of wandering around the City without escort, trying to figure out what I was doing there. I wasn't in any overt danger most of the time, though I did have to hustle away from certain areas at a fast walk.
At some point I ended up in an older part of the City, which reminded me a lot of New Orleans: narrow alleys, intricately shaped windows and buildings, colorful decorations with relatively subdued exteriors. It seemed to be a hotel/entertainment district, because I was behind a young American couple who were checking in. The concierge was telling them to watch their step as they came inside because there was a step up, and then they were all commenting on the 2" deep rich carpeting. I looked down and it extended outside the door, under my feet as well. I was going to the smaller, older hotel behind it in the alley. So I got back onto the cobblestones and slipped back there to a walk-in-closet-sized lobby with an absolutely ancient hotel system. For some reason only one elevator went to the floor I wanted, and the button for it (actually a switch) was behind a Bakelite flip-cover. So I waited a bit for it to come, actually a bit anxiously because I wanted to get off the ground-level, like something might happen if I stuck around too long there. The elevator arrived and I went to push the button but my hotel's floorman (who was a slender African, not Iraqi, as near as I could tell) reached past and stopped me. He had to do it, he explained, because the elevator was so old, and with a handkerchief flipped the switch for Floor #18 (or possibly #24) and leaned back out of the tiny old elevator.
And I mean tiny. Like 2'x3' tiny; and old. Wooden supports holding in the elevator cage, which wasn't complete enough to keep me from leaning against the corner and looking up through the supports outside the elevator cage... I'm not sure if I can explain this correctly. Imagine looking up and seeing cross-braces in the corners of the box you're in, but you're looking through the triangular space, as if you were simultaneously outside the box and inside it:
. I either kept pulling my head back in at each level to keep from bumping it, or I was able to pass through them; either is entirely possible as I was getting *very* woozy at this point (in the dream, not in person). So woozy in fact that I hit the stop button to the elevator sometime around the floor I was supposed to get out at, and *stepped out* through the wall onto the roof. No, I don't know how I got out on the roof of a building from a still-moving elevator, but I had to because it crashed over the side, and I was left wobbling on the arched roof. There was a line of stone tiles or large wooden shaker tiles along the ridgeline of the roof, and for some reason I was able to count that there were 8 more until the end of the building. I actually fell/sat down on the 3rd one, and looked over the remaining 5 onto the city below me.
At about that point I started hearing the Sunday School song "Holy Roller" ("I am a roller roller, I am a holy roller", not sure if it's real or not) sung by a bunch of very American-sounding mothers, who were being drilled military style in what to do to protect their children ("I will not let her (their child) walk by herself, I will only transport her after dark, etc") and singing this song. And that's the point where I woke up, because that was just too weird. Kinda.
Tonight, though, was a pretty elaborate dreamscape. I was in present-day or near-future Baghdad. There was of course still a large American presence, and security was better but not great. Some regiment was doing maneuvers in front of a large government building; I couldn't tell if it was Iraqi or American or joint personnel. I wasn't quite sure what I was doing, to be honest (in the manner of some dreams); there was a lot of wandering around the City without escort, trying to figure out what I was doing there. I wasn't in any overt danger most of the time, though I did have to hustle away from certain areas at a fast walk.
At some point I ended up in an older part of the City, which reminded me a lot of New Orleans: narrow alleys, intricately shaped windows and buildings, colorful decorations with relatively subdued exteriors. It seemed to be a hotel/entertainment district, because I was behind a young American couple who were checking in. The concierge was telling them to watch their step as they came inside because there was a step up, and then they were all commenting on the 2" deep rich carpeting. I looked down and it extended outside the door, under my feet as well. I was going to the smaller, older hotel behind it in the alley. So I got back onto the cobblestones and slipped back there to a walk-in-closet-sized lobby with an absolutely ancient hotel system. For some reason only one elevator went to the floor I wanted, and the button for it (actually a switch) was behind a Bakelite flip-cover. So I waited a bit for it to come, actually a bit anxiously because I wanted to get off the ground-level, like something might happen if I stuck around too long there. The elevator arrived and I went to push the button but my hotel's floorman (who was a slender African, not Iraqi, as near as I could tell) reached past and stopped me. He had to do it, he explained, because the elevator was so old, and with a handkerchief flipped the switch for Floor #18 (or possibly #24) and leaned back out of the tiny old elevator.
And I mean tiny. Like 2'x3' tiny; and old. Wooden supports holding in the elevator cage, which wasn't complete enough to keep me from leaning against the corner and looking up through the supports outside the elevator cage... I'm not sure if I can explain this correctly. Imagine looking up and seeing cross-braces in the corners of the box you're in, but you're looking through the triangular space, as if you were simultaneously outside the box and inside it:
. I either kept pulling my head back in at each level to keep from bumping it, or I was able to pass through them; either is entirely possible as I was getting *very* woozy at this point (in the dream, not in person). So woozy in fact that I hit the stop button to the elevator sometime around the floor I was supposed to get out at, and *stepped out* through the wall onto the roof. No, I don't know how I got out on the roof of a building from a still-moving elevator, but I had to because it crashed over the side, and I was left wobbling on the arched roof. There was a line of stone tiles or large wooden shaker tiles along the ridgeline of the roof, and for some reason I was able to count that there were 8 more until the end of the building. I actually fell/sat down on the 3rd one, and looked over the remaining 5 onto the city below me.At about that point I started hearing the Sunday School song "Holy Roller" ("I am a roller roller, I am a holy roller", not sure if it's real or not) sung by a bunch of very American-sounding mothers, who were being drilled military style in what to do to protect their children ("I will not let her (their child) walk by herself, I will only transport her after dark, etc") and singing this song. And that's the point where I woke up, because that was just too weird. Kinda.
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no subject
Date: 2005-01-11 03:29 pm (UTC)