A fragment of a dream that returned upon reading about aurora's on Mars (How the Sun Helped Murder Mars: http://time.com/4099730/mars-atmosphere-maven/).
I am speeding along on board a silver train with large windows. There are others aboard and we are suddenly aware that rainbows are appearing on the horizon. Not just one or a double but many with standard appearance and varying sizes. They seem to emanate from everywhere and excitement mounts on the train as new ones sporadically appear and are pointed out by the passengers who ooh and aaah. At first appreciation is in unison, then, because of the unexpected number, the shouts are more singular alerts as to a new version in the sky. The larger ones are multi-concentric and variegated with complex designs and color patterns, somewhat geometric but still in a circular arch formation. The windows on the train don't seem to accommodate the magnitude of their scope and I must bob and weave my head to take in the full arches between the mullions. Passengers crowd around the southern windows of this west-bound train to witness the unfolding phenomenon and accumulation of rainbows. I am entranced, but begin to question the puzzle and scientific reason for this happening …quietly to myself.
Monday, November 02, 2015
I have arrived from a dream-forgotten locale at a miniaturized chapel version of Grace Cathedral. The building has rough hewn light-colored stones and is elevated from the street at the crest of this (Nob?) Hill orientation and location. There is much street traffic below and people are arriving and milling about in anticipation of this production of Little Shop of Horrors on the elevated plaza near the box office and entry. I am waiting for a friend/Diane Komater and decide to enter and simultaneously realize I have left my ticket at home. I gauge the time it will take to retrieve it for this rather expensive production and decide I can traverse the City and return in time. I give a BRB signal to the ticket-taker and head down to the street to catch a cab. There are none in sight and I proceed down California to further my forward progress toward Van Ness. I pass Komater on her way to the show and quickly explain I will meet her when I return. I keep checking over my shoulder hoping to snag a taxi. I am resigned to hurrying toward home on foot while estimating my remaining time. Along the way I pass various street life happenings and a small homeless encampment at Market. I cross Market and realize I am near Komater's studio and decide to duck in as it is raining and I am drenched. (It is raining IRL this AM) Komater is there and calmly working, she has decided to forego the show despite having her own ticket that I have paid for. She apparently has caught a cab back and arrived here before me. We are joined by Bill Murray from a back room. He offers to drive me home and we prepare to leave in his old woody station wagon. It is parked in the studio so there is much back and forth maneuvering to turn it around. As we are near escaping the driveway space, a large truck filled with vinyl records backs into and blocks our egress. As Bill and the drivers negotiate, I rejoin Komater and begin to acquiesce to the inevitability of not making it back to the theatre. There is a physical sense of 'letting go' of my mission while Komater is oblivious or uncaring of its perceived importance to me.