Well, it was worth a shot, but regular as
clockwork, sleep Apnea betrayed my torpor again. I'm convinced that the pews at meeting are designed
to maintain awareness (through physical discomfort) in members who gather for worship, but it wasn't
fatigue that put me under. Like a special delivery, my subconscious was politely knocking: 'Sir? Sorry for the intrusion, but you have a message waiting, if you'll kindly cross over into REM state to collect it. Right this way...'
I've learned to accept
such deliveries, promptly and gratefully, whenever or wherever they may turn up. Unfortunately,
silent worship provides a highly conducive venue for these peculiar visions, mainly, because my
snoring or snorting tends to disrupt everyone else' meditations. To my way of thinking, any dream
that you can remember is a good dream, regardless of its actual theme or substance. As I say, it was a risk.
The snort is, as I've observed, disconcerting to other folks, but its effect is like two
ham hands clapped loudly inside my own head- no rest for the weary there, either. Usually, if it happens,
it does so before I get to REM state, in which case, I get to remain in a condition of perpetual
grogginess. But on rare occasions, I can slip into the theater of subconciousness, if only for a moment. Apnea's like a bums rush out of this private showing, but you can keep anything you can drag back, as consciousness returns.
So much for explanations. I only recalled fragments of
this latest episode. It was a mixed bag of images, to be sure: Bucky Balls, chain mail armor,
homemade sugar cookies (fresh from the oven), a rat running in an exercise ball. None of these
bits seem to converge on any coherent theme. Who cares? My God, what a blessed release of hidden
tensions it is, to get any reception at all on this channel. I'll gladly figure out ramifications
later, and offer my belated apologies now, to those whose quiet reflections may have been jostled
by the thunderstroke. The coveted shards of this other world are nearly as good as a bird in the bush; better, if you can savor them in a moment of clarity.
It snowed last night, and may stage
an encore tonight. Oddly, I know about the salutory effects of warmth, but have a harder time
recognizing it, even when it's obviously all around.
A tattered panel ball (one of those dodecahedral soccer balls), deflated and partially obscured by fallen leaves, nonetheless has
managed to retain its colors. This sticks in my mind, because even when the wind's blowing like
hell, the ball stays put- might be an interesting shape for storm resistant houses, rather than the usual boxy designs that got hammered by Katrina or the other hurricanes, cyclones, and
tornadoes this past year. Unlike a real soccer ball, its shape is a fairly course approximation
of a sphere, which might require some aerodynamic enhancements to reduce its drag coefficient,
and a hinged roof system, to equalize the internal atmospheric pressure to the lower barometric
values found within tropical storms. Any container of that scale is bound to have fairy large,
or else, numerous flat surfaces. The key is to make these surfaces, which act as airfoils, as small or angled such that, from whichever direction the atmosphere applies pressure, the surface translates mechanical stresses into manageable loads. The hinged roof panels would allow the
internal pressure to temporarily adjust to sudden, radical drops, without having the structure explode, as it generally does when a tornado encounters a conventional, rectilinear dwelling. If
such storms are predicted to increase in frequency and intensity, maybe simply replacing box for
box is a naive and futile response to natural disasters, and we ought to try a different approach.
As I said previously, I haven't figured out the relevance of these random musings.