Puget? I've never even seen it

It's been a while since I posted a dream up here, and perhaps that's just as well; rather a lot of my dreams are distinctly uncomfortable to endure, and most of them don't have the sort of entertaining narrative I'd like to pretend I'm capable of creating.

I have noticed, though, that the better ones seem to come after I've gotten up, shrugged, and gone back to bed, so if there's an actual pattern — but never mind; these things never work if you try to force them.

So I'm bicycling through Seattle. Since I've never actually been to Seattle, I have no idea where I'm going, let alone why I'm there in the first place, but two things strike me early on: this is a spectacularly gorgeous place — I'm assuming that the dramatic shadows overhead and the prodigious amounts of greenery actually exist in some parts of town — and while I get rained on for ten or twenty minutes, I don't seem to get really wet.

My most obvious connection to Seattle, of course, is the fact that guys who live in Oklahoma City now own the Sonics and the Storm. Somewhere by the side of the road, I find what looks like a periscope, sticking two or three feet out of the ground, with a Sonics logo on it. Up close, the lens turns out to be a very shiny bolt; on an impulse, I loosen it a couple of turns. Nothing happens and I ride on; a few minutes later I decide that this was a Bad Idea, and reverse my path toward the mysterious structure, which I never again find.

Random sightings: a person claiming to be the Invisible Man, and certainly he looked the part, though the orange jacket didn't help; an outdoor lesbian café (and what makes for an outdoor lesbian, anyway?); a very large gas station which, despite its size, had only two pumps.

I am loath to affix any meaning to this other than that I had a rough night — mattress and box spring, when I woke up, were offset fifteen degrees.

Posted at 10:53 AM to General Disinterest