Last night’s dream was much less impressive and interesting. I was once again, alone, wandering some sort of townhouse community in the middle of the forest. Everything had a distinct renaissance festival look to them. I somehow ended up in one house where I ran into my friend Amiri who was with a realtor. He wasn’t looking for a house but just a room. Not this room though.

They moved on to another house and I continued wandering. I discovered on the outskirts of the town, deeper in the woods, about 300 yards or so, a giant pile of dirt. This caught my attention because… It was a big pile of dirt. In the middle of the forest. With nothing dug up.

Incidentally, when I was 11 my family moved into a townhouse (Not in a forest) that was in a community still in its construction. What would eventually be a row of homes blocked a nice view of a pond and tree line was originally a giant pile of dirt. This was awesome when you were kid because you had what was basically a mountain (It was a big, 20 foot tall, 100 long pile of dirt). Throw in some nerf guns and it was perfect.

Something I haven’t done in a long time is make an active effort to recall or record dreams. When I was younger I wrote down almost everything in a little journal by the bed, and it’s interesting to go back and see the kind of imagination I had.

Coincidentally, after reading the Wikipedia entry on lucid dreaming on yesterday, I had a pretty vivid last night. In an attempt to update this site more, I thought I could throw these dream logs on my blog (DLOG?!) in an attempt to record them, and perhaps do a little doodle to go along with them.

So my dream last night involved going to look at a house (A stressful subject as the wife and I are all but done trying to buy a house, just waiting to close). This house had nothing to do with the one we’re buying, in that this was a kind of spacious single family home on a hill (Ours is/will be a townhouse).

Strange immediate details of the house:

• It was dusty and dirty inside
• It had a deck. INSIDE. In the living room. Covered by glass.
• It had a strange sort of… electric wooden trellis. It was painted white and it needed heating oil to run.

I was being shown this house by a realtor person whome I’ve never met. Some very old woman. As we’re going inside, an old old friend who I haven’t spoken to in years is hanging out on the inside deck, playing with some flea-ridden cat. Strangely, my wife, Cat, was no where to be seen. I noticed this person and tried to avoid them thinking they somehow wouldn’t notice me. I didn’t do a good job acting nonchalant because they noticed me right away. They came up to me and asked me quite bluntly, “Did you stop being grumpy?”

I nodded in agreement and to celebrate this supposed lack of grump, we got in the realtors car and drove to a Burger King (which happened to be the location where, in real life, I signed my first house contract offer with Cat and our realtor).

This is when I woke up to one of my kittens punching my face for food.