Dreaming North by Northwest

Since I haven’t blogged in a while and have been busy working on Project Dewclaw, I thought I would write about a dream I had this yesterday morning that is quite bazaar and the first dream I’ve had in months.

I had landed in a time warp similar to Stephen King’s Langoliers having to live in a multiple story office building in the rugged mountainous region that was on a major highway which was completely vacant. All I can remember is that it was the usual office building with lots of windows and the plastic dead environment. Nothing was happening at all as it did not seem to have an airport; it was as if I was trapped there but also attempting to fix the place up by planting a tree on the northwest corner only to be told it would die when the cold weather arrived.

The building had tall elevators, tall enough that you could drive a fork lift into them with the tall tree vertically, but the building was only a few stories tall, at least in my dream it seemed. It was quite strange as usually imagined in dreams.

In the awake world, as a society we are trapped by the cement of the highway both physically and psychologically, and to subject this feeling, this is the caduceus environment we live in. It isn’t that traveling is evil; it is how we travel that is beyond sustenance and viability for sound passage. In other words, these facts have long been known but nothing has changed. We still pour concrete like candy and assume that resources must be used and abused.

Our fire of passage is drying up the entire world even as spoken in history as a spiritual/temporal fire of the fourth age. The tree of knowledge can be as tall as you desire, it just won’t make it through the first winter in conjunction with the cement and squaring environment. I wake up in the elevator with the long fir and the dream is recorded as one of rarity.

The kaæ-id is the etymological root for the sculptor’s chisel that carves the stone faces of Presidents as in North Dakota, yet the sense of Hermes carrying a mechanism may be another clue to venture. In the sense of the wind being carried or a message receiver, the Mayans classify the wind as the second solar day called “ik” depicting the symbology of a tooth or square object. The very next day is called ak’bal meaning “night”. Strangely, the letters I and K follow each other into the root kā- where the gif between them is called the Sanskrit kāmah, love or desire.

Between these two k roots kā and kaæ-id is kad-, the cadaver. It is also called chance. One wonders at the sound of pac-man approaching. One may also ignore the occasion and pick up the rhythmic division of the chisel as in the caesura, one a hammer, and one the sculptor. The root ak- is defined as the ka-mer for the morpheme “hammer” possibly a place where the mediocre mind is smashed to smithereens with the k in the night, but is also certainly a mystic marker for REM sleep, and the physics of the psyche.

The cement is the ultimate escheat of power and psychological warfare, a perpetual wax to set the fire that currently spews disease and waste assumed esculent. This same fire may also be the poison tooth that drives the animal to eat itself unadmitting of the reality.

In the town of spookiness deciding our chances entails digging the very holes that seem to beckon in the night and to enchant the oscen, the singing bird to destroy the mirages hanging on the walls of perception.

“Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.” Albert Einstein