I get it now.

To live a dream-like life (as yesterday seemed to be), I must dream a lifelike dream. What, then, am I to infer from last night’s dream, where I was sleeping in a cabin near a lake:

I had stumbled onto a platform near the woods that was build into a tree and from which I could see over the lake and the distance trees that had previously hid the horizon. I found it as the sun set and the sky dazzled in pink and blue. I treated the discovery of this platform like a hidden treasure and told no one.

The next day I trekked through the valley with mountains rising all around me. That’s when I saw an old, large, burnt railroad cart full of dark burnt coal that you could tell were once smoldering and billowing a black silty smoke. It was on a track that was nearly reclaimed by the wild grass. I tried to trace the tracks, they vanished in the one direction, about 10 feet from where I now stood and went on for a distance in the other direction. So I followed the longer tracks, toward what I assumed were their origin, down into a lower valley, where another cart rested on the track, burnt to a crisp. I followed the track blindly till I could see the entrance of the mine, and that’s when the hairs on my neck leaped from my skin.

I tried to turn away, momentarily losing my balance as the incline fought against me; for a second, I felt like I was being pulled into the mine. I regained my composure and took out my camera to take a picture. I was certain that no one knew about this mine, and that something horrible had happened in the past, and until now, no one had stumbled on this scene. As I tried to take a picture, my camera fizzed and the auto-focusing mechanism grinded in a failed attempt to focus. I thumped it against my thigh, tried again but got the same resistance. Something was afoot now I wasn’t sure I wanted to know any more about it. I turned back and ascended back towards the cabin.

I was leaving the cabin the next night. So I sketched out a rough treasure map to my prized found platform. On the map I crosshatched the region where the mine was and marked in capital letters: “STAY AWAY”. I stuffed the map into an empty altoids can and hid it on a beam near the ceiling. I was not sure whom I wanted to find this treasure map. I knew if they found it they might be tempted by the “STAY AWAY” region, and I think that is what I intended. The couple who had the cabin after me showed up early the next day, I invited them into the cabin and let them unpack their gear. As I left, I told them that the cabin was laden with treasure and led the husband’s eyes with my own eyes toward the beam.

I think today will be mediocre, at best. Into the doldrums I charge!

Eerie

I keep having weird and, yet, mundane dreams.

Excursions, II.

With the wedding behind me (read part 1), I drove back towards Chicago. I knew I would be camping one more night, but I wanted to be closer to Chicago so I wouldn’t run the risk of being charged an extra day for my rental car.

IV. The Warren Dunes Are Surprisingly Dull

I stayed the night at the Warren Dunes State Park. I arrived after sunset and went to bed after reading a few chapters from Jack Finney’s Time and Again. I awoke early and headed out to the beach and the Warren Dunes. These dunes had trails through them, so I hiked along. Although I took some pictures, I didn’t feel any were of a worthwhile nature and so they are absent. I attempted to take a 360 degree panorama from the beach, but I don’t think the end product would be worth the effort of stitching them together. Meh.

I was anxious to get to Chicago, mostly for a refreshing shower, but also to enjoy the city. I had a few spots to visit. So I got on the road much earlier than I anticipated I would.

V. Chicago

I really dig Chicago, driving around the city isn’t as much fun though, I had to backtrack so many times in my feeble search of an IKEA store, most of the time it was the result of a poorly labeled sign or confusing interchange. Nevertheless, the abundant bike lanes and bikers makes me believe that I could be happy here. Not to mention the massive public transportation structure.

After ridding my self of the rental vehicle, I headed to Bucktown. I stopped at Wicker Park and sat under a tree eating the rest of my Kimmel Bread and some peaches I had acquired the day before. This also served to lighten my load as I had two backpacks and lots of hours on my legs. In Bucktown I sought the Maproom, a traveler’s tavern. When I entered, I was greeted with smiles and waves. I was probably the only true traveler in the tavern full of regulars, but probably making their familar haunt all the more true to form. After a German beer and surfing the free wireless internet, I left to meet up with my hosts for the next two days.

i) My Hosts

I stayed with Roxane and Thomas, two friends from the old days in San Antonio. I don’t remember how we met, it must have been at a show or something. I’ve visited them a few times before. I always enjoy my visits with them, the conversations are stimulating and their company is always entertaining. We spent an hour or so on the back porch of their apartment talking about a range of things: the tomatoes they were growing, the party they had a few nights ago, and other goings-on and events. Strange though, they never go to the Chicago Diner unless I am in town, so we percolated the idea until the aroma forced out any other ideas.

ii) Get Yer Art On

Chicago is art-rich. This is probably why I like it as much as I do. And although other cities have art on display, I feel like the art culture of Chicago can be felt in the air, as silly as that may sound. I think it emanates from the buildings and it roars from the third coast music scene. Bands that I’ve grown deeply attached to, like The Sea and Cake and Wilco, hail from the Windy City. At any rate, I partook of this energetic art scene with a midday art walk, an afternoon museum visit, and an evening Movie in the Park.

Next stop, San Antonio, TX. Stay tuned.

Excursions, I.

I spent the last week traveling around these great united states. My trip was by air and land and covered four states, five if you count departing and arriving in New York, yes, I’ll say five, since my arrival in New York is worth mentioning.

I. Chicago in a Half Day

I arrived at O’Hare on Saturday around noonish. I grabbed my checked bag, which was a large hiking backpack filled with a tent, sleeping bag, two knifes, and a couple days change of clothes. I hopped on a shuttle bus to pick up the rental car I had reserved, a black Ford Taurus. An American car to blend in and not rise unwanted suspicions. I was, afterall, traveling to Northern Michigan, sporting a beard, and carrying a Texas drivers license. If you don’t know what I am referring to, read this article about the recent arrest of three men from TX for supposed involvement in a possible terrorist plot in Northern Michigan. It doesn’t hurt to mention that my skin is a lighter shade of brown. I expressed my concern to my friend Jesse, whose wedding I was going to, and he said, “Your beard won’t help. That bridge is quite beloved so people may give you stares because of your beard. I recommend renting an American car. Try not to look Arab. Not sure how one goes about doing that. But most importantly, you will need to wear [a] patriotic red, white and blue jumpsuit, cut your beard, bleach your skin white, and tattoo “Jesus Christ is my savior” on your forehead. Yup, that should do it.”

He was being facetious, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit concerned. But I am getting ahead of myself, so, back to the rental car. I picked it up and drove straight to the Chicago Diner, a hip vegetarian joint that I frequent as frequently as I frequent Chicago. (The frequency of those frequents was astounding.) I ate and jumped on the expressway heading south so I could hook around Lake Michigan and head back upwards toward Silver Lake, which is slowly being eroded, nay eaten, dissolved, FILLED-IN by the dunes on the windward side of it. The “dunes” were caused by rampant deforesting and is largely due to one man, it is mildly ironic that this man has a forested state park named after him nearby.

II. Campers, Campers Every Where/Nor Spot to Sleep!

Descending into the basin around Silver Lake, one can get a large vantage of the dunes; they are majestic at this time of day. The sun, low in the reddening sky, created shadows that accented the dunes ever-changing slopes. The view ends there though, for once you are at the lake level, getting a good view proves to be difficult. The area is built up quite a bit with sightseeing companies, private lakefront homes, and - worst of all - campsites filled with large RVs and noisy, rowdy, weekend campers. I was half happy when I learned the sites were all full. I found a sliver of a public beach which was entirely empty and sat watching the sun descend behind the dunes and eating my pungent Kimmel bread and sweet-and-tart blueberries that I picked up from a roadside farmers market.

I drove a bit more, that night, in search of a place to pitch my tent and sleep for the night. None of the state parks along the way had room. On a whim I turned down a dark road that had a sign that read “Point Betsie Lighthouse”. I followed this road and soon the smell of the water was strong and in the distance a sweeping beam of light came into view. I pulled up to the lighthouse and walked about. The lighthouse was closed, fenced-in, but the nearby beach was vacant. I walked out onto it, the waves breaking near the shore and sprays of water illuminated by my headlamp like the stars above, crisp and brilliant. The breeze was cool and tender; I wished I had packed a kite. This was the perfect spot, and in the darkness I lay, watching as the lighthouse’s bean swept the treetops nearby and listening to the wind and waves; I slept soundly.

I awoke to the sound of clunking buckets. A man was walking toward the beach with a couple of buckets; he combed the shores for something, probably mollusks of some sort. With the daylight breaking, I could see the lighthouse now, and just beyond it, far off, but not far enough to discourage me, dunes. Off I went on a trek across the sandy beach.

III. The Wedding Singer Would Not Be Performing a Dirge

At a beach wedding, everyone is barefoot. That sensual feeling of sand inbetween your toes gets amplified when it is accompanied by a bit of classical music and a sermon given in a boastful baritone from an eloquent preacher.

Onward, part two.

Creature!

In 2001, I spent 10 weeks in the Chilean town of La Serena. I was studying astronomy, planetary nebulae to be precise, with Hugo Schwarz at the Cerro Tololo Inter-American Observatory (CTIO, for short). During my stay I would take long walks and frequent mini-adventures throughout the city and in neighboring Coquimbo. I started a little weekly weblog where I commented on the things I did and saw. Little did I know, but with that single solitary act - which was in fact a bundle of acts: learning HTML, learning how to make my computer a server, and being unashamed of my modest adventures being broadcast to the world - anyway, with that single bundled act, I started what would become a quasi-mandatory feature of the CTIO REU program. Since the inception of my webpage, every subsequent year’s group has produced similar products from their time in Chile. And, although their adventures have clearly out-trumped my own, I can’t help but think that mine will remain the “often imitated but never duplicated” primer for future students. I could be drunk with my own self-love.

Anyway, this post isn’t about that, despite that lengthly paragraph. This is about one page I created that Chilean Summer. A page about a creature I discovered looming around my bedroom:

That was the original text from that page. Someone once told me I used too many exclamation marks. I can see that they were right on! Anywho, here is a picture of the creature:

Then I got a response from Don Hoard, the then director of the CTIO REU program. He found out what it was and so I updated the webpage:

So, the reason I feel it is necessary to repost all of this is because everywhere I asked a question, or posed a command, I included a link to my email address at the time. And, believe it or not, people replied. Not many at first, but slowly a few responses trickled in. I ignored most of them, and even deleted some. But while cleaning that old inbox yesterday, I found eight and decided to repost all this mess so that I can post the comments I received below, in the comments section of this post. My line of reasoning is simple: since I’ve included the original text above, any future searches that led someone to that old page, should lead them to this page where they can comment if they wish. Still with me? Good, so read the comments…