Dream #310: Clay Aorta Stains

02.11.2012 § Leave a comment

We’re playing with clay hand puppets. There are two teams of them, one black and one off-white, that had been designed to fight like chess. We had spent ages making them in our childhood but never tested them out. And now we’ve smashed them in seconds. I wish we would have reflected more on how long we spent making them before having at each other. We could have let them hang out a bit, walk and talk, before this armageddon.

Clint’s room in Monument is up for grabs, even though he doesn’t actually live there. It’s not much of room anyway, not even curtained off — really it’s just a corner of the warehouse space. It really sucks.

In a conversation with Karin about the physiological heart, I can’t seem to remember the word for aorta, and when I finally do remember it, it turns out that I’d thought it referred to much more of the heart than it actually does. Karin explains that one ventricle is bigger than the other. I know I’ve been acting dumb, but my intelligence is insulted.

A game approacheth and the only guy not wearing a basketball jersey, but luckily I happen to be wearing all Stanford colors: cardinal, white and black. The game is being held at Clint’s place. Everyone’s waiting in line. One girl in line is listening to music on headphones. I guess correctly that it’s Slipknot. Maya interrupts me and takes me straight to Clint’s room, which turns out to double as his office.

Stains.

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