These clouds we're seeing, they're explosions in the sky

[sovay]

I did not have nightmares last night. I dreamed of meeting a trickster god on the bus in another of the fictional cities that populate my sleep, although it looked more like wet-lit night memories of London twelve years ago than anywhere I've dreamed about recently. He looked a little younger than me, in a Han-purple shirt; at first I thought his attentiveness was flirting, but it turned out he was a distant ancestor of mine, which might not have altered his interest at all. I thought, in the dream, The god at the head of the year is two-faced. He wasn't Janus. I didn't sleep with him. He didn't give me advice.

(I also dreamed that I got back my copy of Elizabeth Marie Pope's The Sherwood Ring (1958), which I lent out to friends once and never saw again, but that's just wish-fulfillment.)

The Naked City (1948) is a fascinating piece of cinema: a film noir presented as if it were a documentary, except that its New York at night reminds you of how much modern architecture owes to Metropolis (1927)—neorealism by day, Weegee after dark. I wonder if Wim Wenders took its millefiori of eavesdropping monologues for Der Himmel über Berlin (1987). Since I'll never get the time machine to see him in Sean O'Casey, I'm glad someone filmed Barry Fitzgerald in a straight role.

Comments

[cucumberseed.livejournal.com]

another of the fictional cities that populate my sleep

That sounds like it should be the name of an album. I'm glad you got to visit one of them.

[sovay]

That sounds like it should be the name of an album.

Hm. I don't know if it could be a story. Maybe the right kind of poem, although I think unfortunately not the still-untitled short poem from a few nights ago. (I wish I could figure out what that one is called.)

I'm glad you got to visit one of them.

Thanks. It had a good skyline for rain.

[nineweaving.livejournal.com]

And the dreaming-engine is itself again. Yay!

Nine

[sovay]

And the dreaming-engine is itself again.

I don't know about that. It was an improvement on the nightmares, though.

[sovay]

This sounds good.

Generally the safe bet with gods, I think.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

I'm delighted for your lack of nightmares, and glad to hear of your having an interesting dream.

...at first I thought his attentiveness was flirting, but it turned out he was a distant ancestor of mine, which might not have altered his interest at all.

For some reason I've at times wondered at what point one should think of a distant ancestor as the equivalent of a distant cousin, and therefore an acceptable romantic partner. Direct ancestors are a bit squicky, of course, but I suppose that a sibling of one's seven or eights-great grandparent isn't all that different to one's seventh or eighth cousin, assuming, of course, that one can meet said relation under circumstances which a) minimise the potential for temporal paradox and b) allow both parties to be of compatible biological ages.

I didn't sleep with him. He didn't give me advice.

I reckon these are good things, all in all.

[sovay]

Direct ancestors are a bit squicky, of course, but I suppose that a sibling of one's seven or eights-great grandparent isn't all that different to one's seventh or eighth cousin, assuming, of course, that one can meet said relation under circumstances which a) minimise the potential for temporal paradox and b) allow both parties to be of compatible biological ages.

I was thinking mostly that tricksters are not known for their observance of traditional boundaries. It's one of their defining characteristics.

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

I was thinking mostly that tricksters are not known for their observance of traditional boundaries. It's one of their defining characteristics.

Ah, I see. Yes, that's definitely true.

And typical of me, I suppose, to be worrying about the social logistics of it, rather than the basic nature of mythic figures.

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

Do your fictional cities recur in dreams? I'm always fascinated by your dreams. They're amazing, fantastical stories, as if your mind never stops creating.

[sovay]

Do your fictional cities recur in dreams?

I'm not sure they recur exactly, but many of them seem to come from the same culture. A lot more stone and monumental architecture: very old places, but they still have neon.

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

I can see where a certain style would recur, something we're drawn to. It's interesting that neon appears with the old stone architecture. When I think of that, I imagine the kind of hazed color lights in some of your poems and stories and wonder if, in the dreams, the neon is clear and bright or has that more foggy, surreal aspect to it.