Dreamlife

  My first memories of tonight’s dreams are very indistinct–something about a man who cheats on his wife using hi-tech.
  Then I’m kissing … someone who sporadically reads this
dreamlog. She grows and shrinks before my eyes, rather like Dr. Hank
Pym, although not by as many orders of magnitude.
  Then I’m running through a public place that is crowded (but
obviously not enough to preclude running). At one point, I realize my
course will bring me within strinking distance of a tall, thin, dark
man. On a perverse impulse, without slowing at all, I reach out and
strike his jaw. Before I go too far, I look back and see him standing
still, nursing his jaw. I feel guilty and go over to him to apologise
and ask if I can do anything for him to make it up to him. He assures
me he is okay, flashing a smile that shows his teeth intact. But he
wants to take me up on my offer to do something for him: he asks me to
accompany him to Oslo immediately. I object that it would be
inconsiderate to leave without giving my parents any notice but he
insists it will be okay. I feel somewhat put upon but agree to go
along. Somehow we board a flight–I don’t recall any trip to the
airport. En route, my companion’s manner becomes unpleasant. He leaves
it unclear whether we are actually heading to Oslo or to Praga. After a
surprisingly short flight, we land at an unidentified destination. We
sit down at a small shop/caf

  My first fragmentary
recollection is of being in my dad’s office and hiding away some secret
information in his briefcase.
  Then I enter a vast
auditorium (a leit motif of my dreams lately) and take a seat near the
front. Ahead, on a platform is Professor K., an analytic bigot who
dismissed me from my old school. Here, however, she is acting contrary
to form, imparting mythic wisdom. She asks about the lost continent. I
raise my hand and mention Atlantis but it turns out the allusion is not
to Plato but to another text. Then she tells us about someone, again,
not the canonical, not Odysseus, who spent years wandering in the
Badlands away from home. She points out on the map terrain where he
wandered, calling attention to the forbidding, arid, mountainous
topography. Then it is time for a performance. But in this hall, the
performers occupy the seats rather than the stage. To my right, I
notice Lind__oo and it seems to me she is singing rather badly.