"I Demonstrate Balance" DREAM TEXT, 3/14/00 "I'm at the end of a chorus line, the rest of which consists of six or seven tall, buff, blondish, stiff-looking men. It's a rehearsal. We're at the near end of a room that has lanes like a bowling alley, though it's not a bowling alley. The floors are highly polished light wood. "Each of the men is aligned with a lane. I'm aligned with the wider aisle at the right end of the lanes, which leads into a darkened back room. The director is on a stool at the front, with a few observers standing nearby. Our main orientation is toward the front. "We're going through some basic, energetic steps--turns and kicks and such--to some loud and lively show tune--possibly 'I Got Plenty of Nothing' from 'Porgy & Bess.' "There's a move where we all collapse onto the floor, then get up one by one. Not being a professional dancer, I have to peek to get my cue, and I'm a little behind. "Then there's a point at which, peeling down from the other end of the line, each man does a somersault up the lanes. I watch how they carefully tuck their heads so the first part that touches ground is their shoulders. "Still, it looks way too likely that I'd hurt myself. I stand back for a moment, saying to myself, 'There's no *way.*' Then I think, 'Well, I'd better do it if I'm going to be part of this, and I take a step forward. "But then the director says to me, 'No, don't hurt yourself,' as though he naturally didn't expect me to put myself at risk. "(Small shift) The somersaults have gotten the rest of the line almost to the back of the room, I've joined them, and the director and audience have moved up, too. "Whether directed to or on my own or by mistake, I proceed into the darkened back room, then turn to face outward. The director standing in the doorway (there's no door), says with a mischievous confidence in me, 'Maybe you can show us (some balance? a split? [maybe he doesn't specify])' "I'm fairly confident about it myself, and I quickly squat on my right leg, smoothly sliding my left leg out in front of me and raising my arms to shoulder level. The other dancers peek around the edge of the doorway to look at me. "Then I stand up smoothly and repeat it with the legs reversed. My left leg's the weaker one, so I wobble a little and have to really straighten my back and angle my arms overhead to regain my balance. Then I stand up smoothly again and perhaps say, 'I wasn't sure I could do it!' Everyone's quite impressed." I created this artwork in Fractal Design Poser, a program for creating 3-D human figures. This is a "wireframe" view. I love to dance, but I'm very dance-challenged. All things kinesthetic come hard to me (except bike-riding and playing in salt water), and, for much of my life, were a big source of embarrassment to me. I saw the New York City Opera perform "Porgy & Bess" with a good friend about a week before this dream. "NU Again--Michigan Lake" DREAM TEXT, 2/7/01 This is the second of four scenes in a long dream in which I return to Northwestern University, where I got my bachelor's degree: "I emerge from an underground passage (I've been walking for a while) into bright sunlight. I turn left and see to my immediate left a vividly blue-striped building where people are working out. "Oh, no" I think, "this has brought me all the way to the north end of campus." Then I remember there's been lots of construction on the lakefill, including a gym, and I'm only halfway up campus. "I turn to my right again as a light-colored, streamlined car ZOOMS past on the narrow, asphalt road I'm at the edge of. On the other side is a field. To the right, in the direction the car went, is a very steep hill nearby. And at the bottom of the hill is a large lake, with trees around the edges. There are also trees at the top of the hill on this side. "The water is unbelievably enticing--alternating bands of aqua and blue, and so clear, I can see the bottom (sand and scattered boulders) clearly throughout. I struggle to get my bearings, surprised when I realize this is Lake Michigan (it's big, but I can easily see the other side). I don't remember it being like this; has there been a big cleanup? I want desperately to swim in it--but I turn away. "I turn again to my right and start walking back the way I came, above ground now, between the trees and the big, long building that contains the gym. Before long, I come upon a much gentler slope to the water, which is much closer here. I stop and stare at it; it's still beautiful, although not as clear, in part because there are 3- to 4-foot waves. "I'm wearing that sweater (but possibly not the blouse) and a very short, black, possibly Lycra skirt that just barely covers my butt. I'm wondering if I'll look totally indecent if I'm sopping wet, and how long it will take to dry. "Now about 8 students (normal college age) run into the water. It's shallow quite far out, and they seem distant, playing in the waves. This decides me--I'm not going to miss this opportunity when others are taking advantage of it, and I know I'll never get back here later if I put it off. I run in, heading to a fairly open spot where there's just one guy, alone between two groups of others. But I also don't want him to think I'm coming toward him. "(Discontinuity) I've just come out of the water, and I'm a little confused. I don't remember coming out of the water, and don't really remember playing round in it. I think about going back in--if it was that quick or I was paying that little attention, I should do it again. But I don't--now I really need to get going." I created this image on the computer, probably using a graphics tablet, in Photoshop. In the first scene of the dream, I return to the student radio station, WNUR, where I spent a lot of time working and hanging out and learning from the others on the very talented student staff. The dream occurred about a year after WNUR's 50th anniversary, for which I visited Chicago/Evanston for the first time in more than a decade. It was a salve, reconnecting with people I'd lost contact with after they or I graduated. We had done WNUR's 25th anniversary celebration together when we were students. "Adams Shore Sun" DREAM TEXT, 10/12/96 "I walk into a church, through a big vestibule and into the shallow sanctuary, with a young woman I love (romantically?). She has short, blond hair. I put my arm around her shoulders. I cry some, but hide it. (Feeling: Something feels very exposed and public. The church is impressive, warm, somehow welcoming or attractive. I feel fond and protective of the woman I'm with.) "As we sit at the far left end of a pew near the front left side, the woman is [an older relative]. A young, puffy woman on my right, with a matching child, is very snooty. (Feeling: Maybe some underlying disappointment at the woman being different. I feel responsibility for [the older relative] and disdain for the snooty woman. ) "Looking through the frosted window on the opposite side of the church, I see the window filled with a huge, roiling, setting sun. (Feeling: Awe, amazement, power.) "I poke [the older relative] to look, but she barely does, acting as though it's improper to do so. Suddenly, the sun is eclipsed, and I think it has suddenly set. But then the shadow moves away to the left; it was a truck stopped at a traffic light. (Feeling: Hemmed in by [the older relative]'s sense of propriety. I resent it some and pity her for missing this sight. Realizing the eclipse is just a truck is a bit of a disappointing reality check.)" I did this artwork on computer, probably with a graphics tablet, in Photoshop. I was pleased with how it came out, since I have no experience with painting. The church in the dream is from my childhood. This is one of three dreams I consider to be related in imagery. Six months before this one, I had a dream in which the sun dramatically intensifies in its brilliance, signaling the "End Times." My reaction in the dream is fascination mixed with fear, alarm, and denial; in waking life, it sparked an interest in apocalyptic prophecies. On 10/23/01, I had a 9/11-related dream in which the moon's dramatic size is gorgeous, but frightening--and some signs of alien activity on its surface give me a sense of doom. ADDITIONAL INFO: E-mail address: glsturz@cs.com