Wednesday, June 8, 2016

The glowing, lace-covered ball. (dreams)

Image by Pearson Scott Foresman [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons


I am non-corporeal, but not omniscient or omnipresent.

I'm watching over a house occupied by a man and a woman working together to understand the properties of a grapefruit-sized, glowing, lace sphere. The ball is on top of a pedestal in the exact center of the room.

The walls of the room warp and undulate. I don't think this couple can see it. Even if they'd grown accustomed to it, they would take note that the curves of the walls are a fluid vortex at certain points. But they enter the swirling areas and exit without noticing.

It's not that I'm seeing things either. Although, like the couple I don't think that this swirling dimension affects me in ways I can understand, I think I just notice it because of how my consciousness is contained in this new "body."

The woman is in her late twenties or early thirties. She watches the man with interest. I suspect that her interest is in him rather than the sphere. Her makeup is done with skill and subtlety. She's wearing a thick, nude, off-the-shoulder lace dress. Her dark blonde hair is in ringlets.

The man is the same age. He's tall and thin. His brown hair has been trimmed into a neat bowl cut. He wears a tuxedo without a bow tie, cufflinks or cumberbund. I'm under the impression that he's a hipster, since I know the time is the 20th or 21st century, but I can't tell for certain what the era is yet, and I don't trust my impressions.

They don't react to me either, so I assume I'm invisible too. I think I'm the only one like me nearby. I can't tell for certain though. I don't know how I could tell if there are any others like me around. This transfer to a new... existence was extremely sudden and I'm still disoriented.

I can move to different locations, but I don't feel any of the constraints of gravity or air resistance. I'm not breathing. I'm not floating. I'm seeing, but I don't have eyes. The light is a little different from what I'm used to. There's an even, incandescent lighting in the room, but any white lights I see glow brighter than usual. Things that wouldn't ordinarily glow white are glowing just a tint lighter.

I go outside and see that the daylight looks fairly normal, but brighter. I go back inside. I can zoom in and out of this house within certain parameters. It's hard for me to understand that I still exist, given this absence of physical markers to define myself, but I know I must. I think of Rene Descartes.

If I stayed this non-corporeal state for a long time, I could pick up a lot of information I never could have before, but I could also never be all-knowing. I am greatly constrained by time and place- just a different kind of time and a different kind of place, and I still only have about the same processing power and perceptive abilities that I had as a human. So I'm essentially a ghost, but I have no memory of how I got here. I don't even think I died. Maybe I did, but why would I end up here?

The man moves the ball in such a way that I wonder if it can levitate on its own or not. It seems light all of a sudden, but trapped in a thick, viscous fluid. I also wonder how much these two know about why this thing behaves the way it does. I don't know who they are or why they're interested. All I know is that they are excited, and that this is a somewhat guarded secret.

Everything is so new and refreshingly disorienting. I zoom in and take a closer look. The lace ball is resting on a clear, plastic pedestal. The material further confirms my suspicions about the time period.

There's a spiral staircase and a couple of other rooms- all of which are warping, unlike the rest of the houses in the neighborhood. I feel that the center of mass of the warping house is always where that lace ball of shifting material determines, no matter what bizarre shape the house takes on. I wonder if they're going to figure it out and how they're going to figure it out since they can't see it.

They don't seem aware that the lace is incidental and that whatever is inside the ball can never physically move too far away from the center of the room. I can feel its inner turbulence. There's a force coming out of it that doesn't feel like anything I experienced in my former body.

The man is able to pick it up to some extent and move it around, but the ball won't go beyond a certain spot. He tugs it one way or another too far and it becomes immobile. He doesn't understand why. I don't either- not substantially. The ball's mobility is unpredictable. I can see its mobility change, but there doesn't seem to be a pattern. The man waits a few hours and finds that he can take the lace ball all the way up the stairs.

Then he really gets excited and starts shouting enthusiastically at the woman. She starts laughing at his giddiness. 


It's spring break! When I go back, my homework is going to be calculating the center of mass for 3-dimensional objects, which reminds me of what I may have been looking for in this dream. I didn't actually know what was going on in the dream- I only had a vague impression, and in real life, I haven't read the lesson, but only listened to a brief lecture about it.

I'm also reading a book for fun for the first time in a couple of months! It's about chaos (nonlinear dynamics). I love it. It briefly discussed a disc of material being a replacement for the standard "point particle" used in physics 1 (classical mechanics) when calculating the gravitational attraction one heavenly body has on another. So this feeds into the image of the warping walls and the sphere which warps the space around it.

When I was about seven or perhaps younger, I remember our class moving from math to art class about once a week. And for several weeks, I would think about how nonsensical math seemed to me. I would listen to the lessons we had about how to draw trees. I would look at all of our pictures of trees and houses and people, and I would compare it with adults' pictures, and I would think to myself... "A tree does not look like a long, straight stick with dozens of smaller, evenly-spaced sticks coming out of it at evenly-spaced points. A face does not have perfectly symmetrical eyes. When we make these snowflakes, they don't look real. A real snowflake is mangled and missing legs and a drawing of a tree looks more real when you gnarl the branches and make them deviate at unpredictable intervals." When I read about chaos... this memory resurfaces.