Snow; How To Cartoon; On Stage Shock

3/17/10

In the snow. Someone is teaching me to stand upright on a sled and go down a pretty steep hill. I make it almost all the way down. It's exhilarating. It's in the woods, somewhere like Diamond Hill.

At a camp or a place where people do artwork. Someone is making instructional pamphlets of how to get on the back of a skateboard while someone else is riding. The cartoons are crude and colorful. The picture of me shows me with long hair, and long snaky arms. It's kind of charming and embarassing at the same time. I look like I did when I was a kid.

I'm putting on some kind of performance. I'm on a stage and there's a woman who's supposed to be my mother. She's like a charasmatic early 20th century faith healer or something. She has set up a box with a dial and a planchette for me to put my hand on. She turns the dial up to control voltage and makes me put my hand on the plate as an act of obedience. I try it out. It's making me uncomfortable but not painful. Then there's a switch that lets her up it from 180 to 1000 and I protest. I give it a try and it's very painful. I tell her no way.

I think this dream was influenced by a nice work session with some friends the other night. I saw a guy working on a three panel cartoon on a special long pad of paper, and my friend J was showing me a game called bullseye 180, which had formerly been bullseye 1000.