I dreamed Mark and I were on a hike in the coastal or cascade mountians. It was a sunny day, and we were following a large creek or small river as it cascaded over medium sized boulders. Oaks and maples and other decidious trees lined both sides of the stream's banks. It wasn't cold, but I have a vague sense that there was ice on the river, or at least an image of thick ice.
The river went underground, and Mark and I followed it. At first the tunnel was rough and rocky, with basalt boulders in the middle of the water and rising up around and over us. But slowly I noticed concrete here and there, and then we came to a chamber which was mostly concrete with textured gravel embedded in it. It was darker, but not pitch black; there must of been lights somewhere, because the sunlight coming through some clerestory windows wasn't enough. The sound of the river reflected off of the rocks and concrete. A tile compass set into the concrete floor showed which way was north.
We were in some kind of park ranger station. Through a window, I saw a stone turret or observatory sitting on the top of the structure.
There was a dream-shift, and suddenly we were at someone's parent's psychometric lab. I didn't catch anyone's names; the son was twenty-something. The building stayed more or less the same, except now it was a laboratory for measuring brain activity. In the middle of the room stood a large (think two vans parked side-by-side), silver, gourd-shaped, curved sort of diving-bell thing. Voluneneers, who I think had been other hikers from earlier in the dream, entered the dream bell (what I've just now decided to call it), laid down, and two paper-back book sized metal boxes mounted on the inside measured your brain waves and made pictures. Either the interior or lights on the boxes were dark green.
At one point, I was visiting with Professor Mom while she collected data. On a screen, we saw people's hypnogogic imagery. Someone turned into a star fish, which then got eaten by some other sea invertebrate. I started singing, "Looking out on city streets / all she can see..." and Professor Mom joined in while green-hued images unfolded before us "... are the dreams made solid / are the dreams made real / all of the buildings, all of the cars / were once just a dream in somebody's head / she pictures the broken glass / she pictures the steam / she pictures a soul / with no leak at the seam." It was a bonding moment.
I think I woke up momentarily. In any case, there was another dream shift.
I was on a campus. The tone of this dream was more anxiety-driven, as I was supposed to be going on a field-trip to Portland and the instructor -- possibly Professor Dad from the earlier dream or maybe a new, different instructor -- of the class hadn't really arranged it and I was supposed to take a take-home test for the same instructor, but I didn't know how long it would take. And, I had agreed to show up in the Professor's lab to be a subject for more nueroimaging.
There was some sexual tension, too; Mr. Professor had a necktie with a spear-wielding centaur on it. The lines of the centaur were green-black, with artistic use of line length. But the necktie was also a tattoo on his chest. His tie at times was skin colored and part of his body (Oh, dear -- I'm thinking Freud would love this...).
The narrative of the dream gets a little muddled here. There was something about wanting to share a funny dream about Laurie Anderson with people, but not remembering what was so funny about it. At one point I gathered up some folks for the experiment, the only person I remember was a high school friend named Linda Claypool, who I haven't seen since the 1980's (although we see each other on Facebook). We follow-the-leadered back to the lab and then got ready for the experiment.
This kind of hurt because they pinned electrodes to my head. I also had some on my palms and a few on my spine. There's not too much more to the dream except I had the curious sensation of sitting in the lab, electrodes on my head and hands, as a kind of demonstration for the other students and being aware that I was also dreaming in my real bed. A lab assistant said, "His hands are growing lax." My dram right hand was hanging down below the lab chair. My right hand was also was curled by my face, close enough to feel my breath. "He's entering stage two sleep." And I felt my real breath go in. And out. And in. And out....