I've been having more dreams as of late, just nothing worth noting. Dissatisfied dreams, one dream of a familar place (the intersection of 14st and 17ave SW) - autumn, walking across the street to find they've redone it entirely, paved it with cobblestones, no cars allowed, colored leaves scattered over the stones, crossing from south to north to find myself completely lost in a new/old neighborhood. File this one under 'lost in familiar places'.

But, good news, I've a new boxspring. Recalling that for the past 2 months I've been sleeping in my kids beds this is an improvement, at first it wouldn't fit, but bouncing upon it made it fall finally into place. Which is good, as I was worried about falling through. And so I've begun to clean the house, which for 2 months has been stalled, the lack of box-spring my final excuse against cleaning, now to move the heaps of linen from the living room floor into the bedroom, remove the quilt from the floor, pick up the pillows, maybe even sweep the floor and vacuum. . .arrange my neckties, hang my clothes. . .

I'm running out of excuses.

I've set up a pen and paper beside my bed, to jot down those dreams of relevance, as I've noted I've begun to remember them more. Credit the boxspring.


 No dreams last night, no doubt due to the handfuls of chocolate covered espresso beans I consumed before bed. No sleep either, for that matter, but not for lack of trying. Rather a fugue of images, attempted mandelas to lure me to fall asleep, there were some half remembered fragments, but they disappeared as I drifted in and out. A nap in the afternoon brings me close but there's a knock at the door, the plumber is wondering if he can look at the pipes, he takes his time, I try again. . .scattered images fleeting across my eyelids is all. Tonight, perhaps, will be different. This might help. . . http://www.leogeo.com/ (*Note: You will need to enable pop-ups. No, they won't be the annoying kind that tell you you're the One Millionth Visitor to the site. . .)


This is a recurring dream I had until I turned 30, and then it stopped.

Always it begins the same. . .there is a warning, somehow I recieve it, over the radio, perhaps I see the contrails in the sky. It's war and I have 20 minutes to get out of the city. . .there is traffic chaos, many people are electing to stay. . always, as I get to the edge of the city the bombs go off, once, crouched behind the concrete foundations of some house on the edge of Calgary, super bright lights reach fingers around me, the initial gust that blows the shrapnel of houses, glass, steel. In another dream I have reached the edge of Edmonton, forested ponds, people naked in them swimming, then boiling alive as the bombs go off.

And perhaps the most odd, In London, Clapham, leaving my house to try and escape the city, a warning via radio, everyone on the street is having a garage sale, I can't resist; there are all sorts of Antiques, I am torn, the urgency to escape the city, the possibility of discovering some antique treasure, a bargain, the vendors don't seem too concerned. . ."After all, you can't take it with you . . ." one of them jokes. . .

I should note these are not nightmares, just dreams. Some more curious than others, but again, I've not had a dream of nuclear destruction since I turned 30.


I've had no memorable dreams as of late, this will change, no sooner does one record a dream than a new one fills it place.

This dream I've had a few times in the past 3 or 4 years. I am driving to Alaska, I am in Alaska. It is amazing - the drive, the scenery; there is something here that is pulling my soul, the ache for youth, it's so close I wonder why I've never been and my heart is full of wonder. And I am rounding the horn, or the big knobbly bit that protrudes into the ocean, the Alaska of maps, small, compact, I can drive around it. I can see the ocean; the mountains, the lights of some city. .  it is dusk or late evening, warm, late summer - it is always dusk or late evening, always late summer, there is music on the radio, nothing identifiable but it follows my mood like the road, a border crossing that will take me back into Canada, along some sea-inlet wherein dive killer whales. I can drive across it, and across the Northwest Territories, returning through the center of Saskatchewan, a long road with no cars, large hills and forests on either side, leaves turning, running alongside a narrow lake. I never knew this existed.

This dream I have had several times, awaking from it with a sense of deja-vu; I have never been to Alaska, I have checked maps (although I know better) for that road down the center of Saskatchewan so convincing were these dreams, this is entirely an imaginary landscape, these routes I have not travelled, but I wonder why, in my dream, they are Alaska, Saskatchewan, how the landscape came to be so compact, and why I have had it.