March 17, 2017 (Friday)

by Yule Heibel on March 16, 2018

Let’s see how far I get into these pages this morning. Set the alarm for 6:10am, got up, all the usual things, made coffee, etc., then meditated, now writing. Why so early? I’m driving W. to the station for an early train (7:28, iirc): he has two interviews in Cambridge, one starting at 9am, the other at 1pm. It’s not so bad now that I/we am/are up, but last night’s back and forth over when to leave the house and which train to take again underscored how fubar the public transit system is in the US – and how crippling, really (along with the health insurance mess) of the economy. But, hey, who cares about the domestic economy and US workers when you have international trade and the stock market… Angela Merkel is in DC today to give Trump a “tutorial” on international trade. Cute, isn’t it, how the Germans are now the same-old, same-old postwar/post-1970s financialized Americans, “standing up to” populism (never mind that they’ve protected their economy while America’s was hollowed out).

I had a bit of a hard time falling asleep last night, and woke up a few times, sometimes because I was having so many REM dream periods – at least ones which seemed more vivid. One of them involved Porsche cars, 911s, specifically. I know nothing of this model, and barely anything of this brand. But R. has one (I think it’s a 911, but what do I know?). In my dream, we’d see one parked somewhere – a hospital parking lot, say – and W. would insist that that one must be R.’s. But it would be some absurd color (at one point, there was a pair of them, both lime green …ew), and I would say, “No, that’s not his.” (This back and forth stems from the fact that I know so little about Porsche cars that I can’t reliably say it’s a 911 model, hence I’m being second-guessed in my dream. But I do know color; the wrong color lets me reliably say “no.”) At one point, we’re driving one, which we park in some urban lot. And, boom!, there’s another one (right color this time) on an elevated berm to the left. Parked. And this time it is R.’s, who appears with [wife and child], and a hilariously frisky terrier just as we have the doors to “our” car open, ready to climb in and leave. So, pause and greetings all around, and then before I know it we’re all of us in “our” car (which I’ve just told R. is “on loan from W.’s company,” totally fantastical), and W. is protesting the presence of this dog in the car. Of course the dog scoots right into the car anyway and then proceeds to run riot all over it. All over it …before somehow calming down and becoming as one with the car – at which point the dream ended.

Three minutes and I have to leave. The sun is rising. The light is beautiful. The sky as well: basically blue, but multi-hued due to clouds and atmospherics. And here we go, W. is calling already, ahead of time and schedule. Maybe I’ll take a stab at writing my five-year plan when I get back.


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