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Dreamed 2011/4/6 by Wayan
Huge new moons appear. Two
Europas, rust-orange to glacier-blue
Swathed in Titan-haze. Ice, air!
A terraformable pair.
They hug Earth; raise frightful tides.
Luna now swims warily afar. I plan to guide
her to shepherd the new
Couple to kiss and lovingly collide--
merging (I hope) without a System-wide
Rightly fused, this New Mars will become
a garden once the strata calm. I
may yet walk the seedling hills
of Eden ere I die.
But my orbits err! So rogue moons pour
onto the lanes of Franklin Street in San
Francisco, busy, steep. Motors roar
as drivers swerve hysterically away
from moon-stampede! Thunder down
cratered, bouncing, willful. They do obey
the one-way signs. So far.
Io, stupid cow, prods Big Sis to ricochet
up a mansioned street in Pacific Heights.
Oh, trample some millionaires, see if I care!
Three mad cows left. Leap, accelerate
downhill boisterous. Run two red lights!
Moo-mentum tumbles them toward the Bay
whitecapped under a fog-tongue gray.
Ding that midnight car!
If they bowl straight on like this, they'll roll
Through Fort Mason--the low grass knoll
may stop them--if not, it IS the least bad shore
in town to toss a boulder off. Half-wild.
Speeding now. Good luck, Highway Patrol!
Two units howl and gun, but quickly learn
moons are hard to tase.
Ganymede leads the charge across Lombard.
Tourists get to relive the Late Bombard!
Whew, the light's green. But Callisto bounds
up kanga fast. Will the signal hold?
As Io rumbles up, my heart-engine pounds
drum-guilt for my orbit-poking overbold.
I wake ashake. Oh, Jupiter pays
hubris back. Always.
NOTES IN THE MORNING
- Terraforming: I just read a Robert Silverberg column on the odds for exolife, in his book Musings And Meditations.
- Franklin Street: Locals' shortcut to the north side of San Francisco. The year my dad died I drove it weekly to a Fort Mason art class. So it may mean grieving--which can indeed snowball.
- Driving, anxiety: Drove to therapy, but felt too shaky to handle Franklin's busy traffic, so I took safer, slower streets. The dream hints "maybe you were wise to take back routes."
- Runaway moons: runaway cars on SF's steep hills are no joke; forget to turn your wheels in, and you get fined. Beats being squashed.
- Late Bombard: in the early Solar System, the Late Bombardment was a last long blast of cratering. It hailstormed Earth, possibly supplying a lot of our water.
- Hubris-guilt: I got grandiose, tinkered with orbits to build a new Eden, and slipped. So Jupiter-Zeus-Jove-Jehovah, the guy who puts the Heavy in Heaven, sends his Jovian satellites to punish my hubris ("offending the gods by taking on god-tasks").
- You HAVE seen Buster Keaton's film Seven Chances, right? He flees a landslide of car-size boulders just like these Martian bouncers. The funniest dance in film history--and all papier-maché. So is the dream-warning serious, or is the danger... hollow? Hard to say. I know what I think. I swear I saw Callisto wink.
LISTS AND LINKS:
other worlds -
on the road -
dream humor -
dream poems -
Only in San Francisco -
digital dream-art - a parallel dream:
No Room on the Moon! - a speculative model of
Io - problems with runaway asteroids in
Martian Robots Dress Like Freud
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