dream_camp e_o_i The night before last. It's in the southern U.S. somewhere: I'm as confident about that as if I'd been there before in real life. I'm a passenger in someone's car, and that car has large tires with large treads. We drive and drive and drive and I'm getting hungry for lunch, but I feel it's rude to say it, except then we stop so I can gawk at the largeness and grooviness of the car tires before heading into the restaurant. Everything's expensive. I order something small, a bean and corn salad that you can add extra ingredients to. I pick avocado and something else - I forget what. "We're near Mexico," I reason. "So I should pick avocado. That will help me blend in." The summer camp has haybales arranged in mazes and lofts. I have some kind of job there, but the kids haven't arrived yet. Training week, maybe? I've slept and it's the next day. I can tell because I'm hungry for lunch again. I walk into the cafeteria and lunch isn't available. This time I take matters into my own hands, or rather feet. I go up the escalator into a shopping mall, the top of which has a fancy cafeteria - like a fancier version of Time Out Market (I almost called it Time's Up Market). Servers in black and white are milling around, offering appetizers. Bar islands offer cocktails, kitchen ones entrees. I'm snacking on something expensive and trendy (apparently cost isn't an issue anymore; I have cash in my backpack) when one of my coworkers comes up the elevator. She chides, "You're late! We've started the workshop already. You have to come back down." I shrug. "Not without lunch." And she goes away without a fight. The next part is unrelated except for the idea of sleeping compartments, smallish hideaway places. These appear, beckoning me to explore them and create more with my mind, but I'm bored. No longer lunch-lusting, I've decided on ordinary lust instead, and I won't sleep in any compartment unless one of the women wants to come with me. No man. Only a woman. I'm picky, too - I refuse skinny small-nosed blond ones, at least two, and I tell the last one that she should know that buxom dark-haired women are more my type (to me, it seems self-evident). So one like that steps forward, creates a room that's not like the small compartments, but I'm not thinking of the room size anymore when she immediately bares her breasts. Except that she disappears when I try to touch them. Differences? am introverted and default monogamous in the real world. Similarities? LUNCH. 231204 ... e_o_i I thought of writing up "dream_camp" yesterday but I was afraid I'd reinvite this dream. Well, it happened last night anyway - only slightly. The focus was mostly on wacky situations and creatures like dream_dog. But there was a part near the end where my novel character Tamra told me matter-of-factly that she survived Place with Medial Velar_Fricative. I tried to convince her, "No, that's impossible - you've lived in Canada your whole life." "Yes, but it *was* in Canada." Forehead furrowed. /gɹejx.fild/? But immer_immersion Miriam, real person, had family die in not-Gracefield, bringing this too close in another way. Still far, but too close. 231204 ... e_o_i (I wrote this in the wrong place and it makes no sense now. Let me replant it and then talk about imaginary animals.) 231204 what's it to you? who go blather from