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Had a megadream last night. It had at least three parts and kept going on and on. I awoke a couple of times and fell back asleep, and fell back into the dream.

It had to do with a company event (LF?) where several of us were putting together prototype games that involved computers, monitors, electronics, and game content. We were building a sample of the one that would be used at the event. We were testing it out and making design changes to solve UI issues that we encountered. All in all, there was about 20 of us working on the prototype. Much of this part of the dream dealt with development, design, testing, and redo work required to deliver a working unit for the company event.

A second part of the dream dealt with the games' device being installed at the company event and it being used by people. Many of the people that were on the development team were also at the event, and also got to try our hands with the game even though we had built the device/game. In fact, that was one of the clever things we had built into the unit--that prior experience with the device didn't really help you--every time was a new experience.

In this second dream state, there was an immense party underway. There was food and entertainment, sleeping cubicles if you needed to take a break or wanted to meet up with fewer people in a more private environment (really live chat rooms). Everyone seemed to know each other and people were really having a blast.

In a third part of the dream, I was driving from one place to another (lab to party, perhaps?) and was carrying some parts of the games' device for the event. As I drove along, my truck started missing and stopping. It was as if I was having overheating problems. I pulled to the side of the road and looked into the engine compartment. I could see where steam was being released from an area on the radiator. I tried restarting the engine, but it wouldn't fire up. Eventually, I managed to get it running again and continued my delivery. I couldn't understand why the truck was acting as it did. It didn't appear to be low on coolant. It just hiccuped and then righted itself.

I kept sliding back and forth between the first two dream states--being at the lab and then being at the party. The dream states were almost tangible, as if I was actually in the different places, doing the different things.
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Lunch with L. Sunny day. We walked a few blocks to a deli where we could sit outdoors. Yes, I'm still monitoring my gut and what it is doing. Hopefully, it is regulating and I can just forget about it and let it do its thing.

Went to the library and picked up some books by Oates (novel and stories) and Divakaruni (novel--Queen of Dreams--new one that I hadn't read).

L spoke about the idea of starting a company. Seems like such a distant goal for me, from where I think I wish to be. I just want to figure out a way to get and stay healthy, write through my final years, and leave some evidence on my having been here. Time ticks onward and I've yet to knuckle down and write anything beyond these "dream notes." I've prepared another blog to catch my initial set of dream stories, but I haven't created my writing anything, so far.

April shall be the month. Of course, why not launch myself on April Fool's Day--a fitting gesture, a foolish plan. In setting up the blog, I spent some time figuring out how to estimate word count. The Oates's stories have shown me another route--write the stories as they fall and don't be concerned with word count--be more concerned with the story, the characters, the ideas.

All of the reading I have done in the past few months has been insightful. I have learned a lot from some of the master craftspeople. Each has a unique voice. I can hear them in what they write. Hear their souls.

Warm day starting to cool down. Will soon have to fire up my tiny heater to try and chase the chill from the room. The silence is so tactile right now. There is the sounds of keys, disks spinning, faint wind noises, distant automobile engines, but a rich quiet veil at this moment.

In writing here, I come to a peaceful place within me. I reach a silent center about which all else revolves and dances. It is only for the briefest of moments, but it happened and is now gone. Write until you grow still. Write until all sounds dissolve and you can hear your voice.

Lanterns sway and the sea boils foamy waters onto the shores. The cry of a distant gull pipes a series of notes into the empty spaces. Nowhere is their perfect stillness, but when you stop attempting to reach such a goal.
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I was moved and stopped, both at the same time. I could feel how I was slipping into a stream of words, wrapping the words around me like water. At the same time, I was withdrawing, pulling back, not letting go. Rivers and streams. Rapids and steady trickles. So many minutes left or spent, abandoned or used. The rhythms of the clock are not the rhythms of the seasons, the sun or planets. They can be made to appear as if they were based on time, but it's actually the opposite. Time shifts and moves because of the orbits and transitions. Cessations wind the clocks of the world. I wish I knew what it is I'm trying to say. What is it that I feel and can express?