i had weird dreams last night.

i was on my way to a film festival with some friends, and was going to meet them at their place across town, but rather than getting in my car to drive, i decided instead that i would take my home-made hot air balloon! this contraption consisted of an old recycling bin and a pouch attached by a complicated rigging system and filled, not with helium or hot air, but with nitrous oxide. the logistical problems with this mode of conveyance are many; nitrous isn’t that buoyant, as it turns out, i don’t know how in the hell i was supposed to steer (i vaguely remember some emphatic leaning) and i really don’t know how i was able to fit myself into a recycling bin. true, by the time i landed it seemed to have fallen apart just a bit, gone soft and flexible, but i never felt dangly on the ride.

the friends i was going to see were pretty impressed with my handiwork; some more than others. the boys were quick to point out my successful journey was proof of the viability of this mode of transport (thus legitimizing their desire to make one too) while the girls tended to raise a skeptical eyebrow.

it then became clear to me that i had somehow forgotten my money, and couldn’t very well attend the film festival without any. so. TBIL appeared out of the ether to offer me a ride back to my place to fetch it. however, this endeavor was complicated by his inability to select the correct route to my house (this, is the least far-fetched part of the dream, for sure) and ended up detouring into north Portland and getting caught in traffic waiting to cross the st johns bridge. the traffic was backed up there because the giant dam across the willamette in downtown portland had closed its floodgates causing the river to rise far enough to wash out the bridge (nevermind the course of the river would need to flow in the opposite direction to have this effect). which wasn’t stopping anyone from driving across it mind you, just slowing them down enough to cause a tie up. when we finally got onto the bridge it was not only 3-4 inches deep in water, it had a hill on it like the bridge between astoria and longbeach. scary.

after that i ended up losing track of TBIL and found myself back with the girlfriends in a gallery/antique shop where we looked at pottery with uneducated disdain until we found a back room with a robust supply of costume pieces. parading did ensue. the proprietor came around and scolded us; apparently some of the props were valuable.

for some reason i woke up from this dream feeling displaced and vulnerable. it seems a strange one to cling, to unsettle… yet somehow, it has.