in the dream

 i am exiting the building in a golden light through a narrow foyer where tall rectangular plates of amber are set in smoothly polished wooden wheel-like extruded columns obfuscating the exact extent of the size of the room and making its formal boundary ambiguous. as i reach for the strange handle on the exterior door, the handle being inset into the door, and shaped like clay which has been squeezed by a human hand then rendered into brass, i notice a piece of furniture along the bottom of a short decorative wall. the furniture seems only to be a small wooden table whose top is made from a lattice of black wood, through which i notice is a large wasp minding its own upside down business. something about the wasp catches my attention and so i bend over and attempt to get a better view, and i do, the wasp appears to be built like a tiny wasp centaur, fully insect, but its jointed torso is also a totally human torso, and it wears a little helmet like a theban hoplite and it carries a spear. it attacks me and flies directly into my mouth, and the dream changes.

 in the new dream i have no memory of the foyer, but do seem to have the feeling of a long and ongoing continuum of thought and feeling, as if i am in my own victor hugo novel, something like 'toilers of the sea'. i am an 'ocean-side island hermit', but i sometimes trade my excess tidal gatherings to the soldiers who live on one end of the island in a castle on a rocky rise. to get to the castle, i am forced to navigate an interesting geological feature; a series of concentric cave halls whose circular chambers contain a series of eroded holes through which i cross, but only in low tide. the structure is like, it occurs to me in the dream, two molten phonograph records pressed together with some force and then pulled back apart, leaving a series of hall-arcs and window-door arcs or gaps. in the dream there are sections of the disk through which a fair distance can be seen. i am moving through one of these sections in my ragged clothes, my beard down to my chest but tied neatly with cotton rag scraps, and i am carrying my tatty old cotton gleaning sack full of urchins and sea woods i guess. the tide is getting too high, some of the areas of the cave record have already flooded, to keep in the knee deep water i have to follow a certain path which is less known to me. as i round a blind corner an enormous moray eel is waiting for me lying quietly and filling an entire chamber. he easily swallows me whole, and the dream changes.

 in the new dream i have no memory of the foyer, nor of the island of the concentric caves and castle soldiers , in this dream i live in an artists community which seems to exist somewhere in the catskills mountains or somesuch. we live in a large and rambling arts and crafts bungalo beside an elaborate garden modeled somewhat after a japanese garden but also very different. there is a 'turbo wheel bridge' where water moving through the middle of wheel creates a sort of escalator over the water for foot traffic.. there is a small lake at the center of the garden, but a deep canal connects it to our house. our house is built over the canal which runs to a lake in a garden. this part of the 3 dreams does not consist of much. in the house I 'fall' down a 'cartoon ladder' whose rungs pop like bubbles, like graphic thought bubbles, and when they pop, they say 'pop!" at the bottom of the ladder, I see the door they open to feed the great fish. yes. in the lake there is a giant fish. one of the members of the troupe, a woman once performed a circus act with it. and at the end of the dream we are watching her perform, but not like it is a formal performance, but like a group of old friends from a balcony. we can see her, the fish standing vertical up out of the water, and she on the tip of its nose standing on her toe. we are clapping for her because we know her and love her,
 but think nothing in particular of her giant fish which i do think must be a kind of carp.