Willa's Journal

Sunday, June 29, 2003:

I'm taking the bus to San Diego; it stops somewhere on the way and I have to change buses, but I can't figure out how to do that. There don't seem to be any signs, and I don't know where to go. Ann and Lynn were with me, but they've gone on ahead and I can't find them. I still have a few minutes to find the bus, but I don't think I'm going to make it, and I wonder what happens if I miss it. Do I have to get another one later in the day, or what?

I start cleaning out the refrigerator and the freezer. I realize as I'm doing this that it doesn't make any sense.

Saturday, June 28, 2003:

On a trip; worried that I didn't pack the right, or enough, clothes. I take one of Bob's shirts out of the suitcase and it's wrinkled, I hang it up, hoping that it will look better after it hangs for awhile, but knowing it probably won't.

Thursday, June 12, 2003:

I'm on some kind of big aircraft carrier or ship with a group of people who are looking for a whale that has just died so they can perform some kind of procedure without having to kill a whale for it. There's a sailor on the ship with a huge store of marijuana, which he shows me. Then I'm driving over a bridge like the Skyway in Florida--a huge, long bridge totally over the water, and I'm terrified that I'm going to drive off the side. I think at first that I'll stop before I get on it, to gather my courage, but decide I might not be brave enough if I do that, and I should just go ahead and drive onto it, so I do, knowing that I'll probably drive off the side.

And then I'm at the office, and someone is asking me about a DVD, which I can't find. DS was watching it, but I don't see it around. The person who is asking me about it is adamant that they need it, but since I can't find it, I don't know what to do. Then I realize that DS has a separate DVD drive, and it might be in there, but actually, I'd like to watch it myself, since it's a DVD of my previous dream about the aircraft carrier and the whale.

Sunday, June 8, 2003:

Driving on a road near the ocean; the waves are high, and suddenly the ocean surges over the road, engulfing it. The cars driving ahead of me plunge into the water over the road, and they lose their grip on the road and start to float. They're out of control and I know that if I keep driving, I'll run into them, and I'll lose control, too, and I'll end up driving off into the ocean. I'm frantic, and I'm praying, no, please, no, get out of the way, let me make it, please, please, please, and I wake up.

Wednesday, June 4, 2003:

Small metal sculptures that balanced one piece on the other, a toothed wheel maybe, and some kind of support that held it so it turned freely.

An advertisement showing a crashed airplane next to a highway; I thought it was kind of in bad taste, after September 11.

Squinting my eyes and imagining reaching across an ocean, a field of waving grain, through hills, to retrieve something; the squinting seemed to make it possible, i.e., if I didn't think about it too hard and just kind of did it, it would work.

DK and HB sitting in a wooden booth in a restaurant with a red glass light fixture above them, DK holding a gun and posing as if he meant to "shoot out the lights," i.e., the light was too bright and for some reason it couldn't be dimmed.

Sitting beside Debbie Reynolds on a plane. Something is mentioned about the Mamoa family, and I was startled because that family was mentioned in the book I was reading, and I looked at her and asked if she had written the book, and then said, "Oh, of course you did." (Debbie Reynolds? I was reading, or rather listening to the audio tape of, "Nightwing," by Martin Cruz Smith)

There was a deck off Gard's office that I had never noticed before. There was a nice wooden bench out there, and a small wooden bookcase that he had put up on the rail, but that had subsequently blown off and was now lying on the floor with the books scattered around.

Dave and Wes were carrying armloads of stuff down the hall, and I said to someone, "Looks like they're moving," and then realized that they were moving--to our "other office." We had recently discovered that our lease included an additional office somewhere else, and they were apparently moving there. I was annoyed that Dave would move without me going to the same place, but thought, oh well, it means we're doing well if we can fill up two offices.

Tuesday, June 3, 2003:

There was a knitting get-together at Amy's in Chicago. Wendy was there, everyone was there--something like twenty people or more. It doesn't look like there's going to be enough to drink (and, specifically, not enough Diet Coke), so I offer to go get some. I'm not sure I can find the place again, but I think I can . . . She says no, it's okay, so I don't go.

We have dinner, or something, then sleep, and when I sleep, I dream that I'm there, and when I wake up, I tell her about my dream (in the dream). Her sister comes by, and I said, "I've never seen you in my life, but I know exactly who you are!"

Then I'm at McDonald's, where someone is in the parking lot handing out fat newspapers. Some people think it has something to do with a union, but the guy handing them out says no. Then I'm back at Amy's, in her bedroom, where everyone is either sitting on or crowded around the bed, knitting.

Then I'm in a living room, teaching KB how to use a digital camera. He's having trouble getting the right resolution, and I take him over to the wall and show how, when I "installed" my camera, it put all of the possible settings on the wall, with buttons to push. I ask him if he installed his so that the settings showed up on the wall, and he said no. His wife was there, too, helping.

Then I started thinking about our "spare room," the extra bedroom, and I suddenly thought about it and how we were just using it for storing a few miscellaneous things, and I should turn it into my studio! I could put all my knitting things there, and my stash, and books . . . then I thought hard about it, and realized that we're already using our spare room as Bob's office.

Sunday, June 1, 2003:

I found out that George and Laura Bush collected thread-crocheted items, like doilies, because no one was doing that kind of work anymore. I told whoever was telling me that "I can do that!" and was wondering if I should go do some and then show them.