Dream Journal

I am in a massive garden, beautifully landscaped. Trickling streams crisscross the stone paths that lead to small wooden arch bridges. This is the garden of Yu Wu Lu, Chinese peasant and robotics genius. His creations wander the hedgerows. Today there is a festival (or does this happen everyday?) and his garden is having an open-house. There are some tables set up with spare parts, and children are invited to create their own machines. The children squat in the pathways, watching their contraptions. They all look down to the ground, absorbed. All I can see are the backs of their heads and their bowl haircuts. They all wear athletic gray sweatsuits.

I am in a black, windowless room with a high ceiling. I am in theater class. Brandon the instructor tells us that we'll be improvising award acceptance speeches. One of the walls lifts away revealing a gigantic green screen. The green is so vivid it's like having lime juice sprayed in your eyes. In front of the green screen is a diminutive podium (or is it a lectern?). The relative scale is something similar to that of George C. Scott standing in front of a monumental American flag in the opening scene of Patton.