07-04-2011, 05:35 AM
2011-07-04
7 AM EST
0:00 LST
Bicycling Back from Baltimore
I dreamed that I had business in Baltimore, so as usual, I rode my bicycle there.
It was meant to be a long day trip, but didn't turn out that way.
I don't remember what the business was. The dream really starts with me riding back on the concrete highways. Curiously there were very few cars, and few people around. Evening was coming on as I pedaled South. I knew I was going South, since the setting sun was on my right, but somehow the roads were becoming more and more confusing as I went.
Plants were growing up to the edge of the highway, and some had started to grow from cracks in the middle. There were no cars on the road now—very strange for Route 95. Also, there were no road signs. Of course not! As twilight fell, I was navigating by landmarks, as usual. I needed to watch for an advertising sign on a very tall pole [like a Cracker Barrel sign]. It was a white oval with a cursive capital 'W' in it.
It should have come up on the right. Instead, I could see it in the distance, far to my left. Somehow, I was lost. I thought about pedaling over to the sign, but that would mean getting on Route 40, and I knew I did not want to go there when it was nearly dark. I would press on to the South and hope for familiar territory.
In a hollow among some rolling hills, I came upon a settlement of Norwegians. At the edge of it, there was a small-gauge railroad station, built out of scraps of other buildings. Everything was painted with a thick coat of flat black paint.
An elderly lady behind an iron-barred window was selling tickets for the train, alternately shouting the train announcements in Norwegian and English.
"
7 AM EST
0:00 LST
Bicycling Back from Baltimore
I dreamed that I had business in Baltimore, so as usual, I rode my bicycle there.
It was meant to be a long day trip, but didn't turn out that way.
I don't remember what the business was. The dream really starts with me riding back on the concrete highways. Curiously there were very few cars, and few people around. Evening was coming on as I pedaled South. I knew I was going South, since the setting sun was on my right, but somehow the roads were becoming more and more confusing as I went.
Plants were growing up to the edge of the highway, and some had started to grow from cracks in the middle. There were no cars on the road now—very strange for Route 95. Also, there were no road signs. Of course not! As twilight fell, I was navigating by landmarks, as usual. I needed to watch for an advertising sign on a very tall pole [like a Cracker Barrel sign]. It was a white oval with a cursive capital 'W' in it.
It should have come up on the right. Instead, I could see it in the distance, far to my left. Somehow, I was lost. I thought about pedaling over to the sign, but that would mean getting on Route 40, and I knew I did not want to go there when it was nearly dark. I would press on to the South and hope for familiar territory.
In a hollow among some rolling hills, I came upon a settlement of Norwegians. At the edge of it, there was a small-gauge railroad station, built out of scraps of other buildings. Everything was painted with a thick coat of flat black paint.
An elderly lady behind an iron-barred window was selling tickets for the train, alternately shouting the train announcements in Norwegian and English.
"