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Morning Pages - 11.0 - The Annals of Young Geoffrey: Hope brings a turtle [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Young Geoffrey

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Morning Pages - 11.0 [Sep. 4th, 2007|10:53 am]
Young Geoffrey
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Such dreams and such a night (and) morning of dreaming! Though my readings in Natural Philosophy suggest it is impossible for REM sleep to occupy more than a small fraction of a night's slumber, yet I attest that last night's repose felt indeed as if I my eyes moved rapidly beneath their lids all the live long night.

Which is another way of saying, folks, that this entry will almost certainly be about as dull as dull can be.

The Cosmos In a Grain of Sand?

Of course, and despite having awoken more than once during the course of last night's entertainment, the memories are fading.

And yet ...

  • The play's the thing!

    My friend Vernski had written a play - indeed, a full-blown musical, which was wonderful to behold and I watched it, taking careful notes so as to provide a true critique, one strong enough to fend off the accusations of those who would claim bias on the critic's part. And indeed, despite its many virtues, said entertainment could be read as nothing more than a sophisticated justification for a man's desire to both have and to eat his cake;

  • Two girls for every guy

    As is so often the case with dream-logic, it was I - the audience - who lived the play's fancy. I was involved with a woman (a sometimes-Laura/sometimes an unknown woman) but having difficulties. At times, I believed her to be cheating on me (particularly when she was off with a male friend in his bright red sports car), at others there was only the feeling that the relationship had close to run its course and was coming to a natural close.

    As it happened, the star of the play was none other than Michelle, my first Serious Girlfriend, with whom - in dream as in life - I had neither seen nor spoken to in many years. Up a long hill I walked to find her and our reunion was, to my surprise, a happy one. We soon found ourselves getting a lift in Laura/Not-LAura's friend's sports-car, now somehow transformed into a hatch-back with room enough for 5 (the friend had a friend - two boys for every girl? I wondered).

    And so it was we arrived back to the theatre, somehow now determined to make polygamy function in a modern world;

  • ...As we are all together

    The third part of last night's entertainment concerned universal enlightenment, no less (and, no doubt, inspired by my earlier re-reading of Poul Anderson's remarkable novelette, Brain Wave, a story that, in brief, centres on the conceit that, for a least several hundred million years, our solar system has been under the influence of a cosmic phenomenon which slows the workings of "neurones". Leaving this dampening-field, everything with a brain begins to get suddenly smarter. Within weeks, normal human brains are operating at levels far beyond those measured by IQ tests, morons are operating at genius-level, apes are developing language and dogs are understanding hundreds of words (and just imagine how livestock are reacting!).

    I was traveling, busing to a place not far from where the play took place. And becoming one with all other humans, communicating not through words but through some much more sophisticated means; to an observer it would no doubt have seemed like telepathy.

    And, shit, all the previous typing has driven that, most recent, dreaming from my mind.



On the health front, my chest seems a little less rheumy, but my head feels stuffed and my eyes crusty and slightly painful. I will endeavour to catch up upon my correspondence today, but I don't expect to do any real writing before tomorrow at the earliest. Indeed, the urge to return to my bed after only 40 minutes awake is already a strong temptation.

Exeunt
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