A good summary of questionable claims in social psychology, etc...

 https://www.gleech.org/psych

Dream of book titled ART

 There was a box and we found a book there. A blank book that I had titled ART, filling the pages with poems, aphorisms, photos, collages, and drawings. The date was 1987.  I was showing it to my daughter, who wasn't impressed at all by it.  I wasn't either. The contents were haphazard, the images without any impact. There was ambition behind it but no execution.  

***

The moon had a sticker of Mickey Mouse on it. It wasn't literally on the moon, but just positioned so that it looked that way from our particular vantage point. There was another cardboard cutout of Mickey Mouse close to the moon, that looked as though it were right next to it though of course it was much closer.  

Dreams from 10 years

 I have dreams going back to 2013.  I should make a book out of them. 

The same damn dream

 My dad was alive again in this dream. No surprise there, because I have had this dream for years. He was sitting in his study and we were talking. I even discussed the dreams with him, telling him I knew he must be alive since I had been dreaming it all these years. This did not feel like a dream because it had been several days that he was back, I felt. I was tears, not really even happy, just puzzled a bit. He had the exact appearance, voice and intonation of himself so I had no doubt about his identity, and made a mental note of this fact. He made some comment about a book. There was a complete works of Thomas Jefferson in the room, and I wondered about how much history you could learn just by reading everything like this. 

I tried to get an explanation of it from my mom; she told me some story about "Uncle Jake" (I don't have an uncle by that name). Being away someplace for 20 years or so doesn't make much sense. We were in the car. We went to some memorial service for someone (not my dad, I guess, but someone of his generation) in someone's house. They were all members of a certain organization. I had the new dog Heidi on the leash (that's another story) and she took a cushion near the front next to some other dogs. I found an armchair, but an elderly gentleman came down and said it was his chair. I moved to the other side of the room. People keep coming in. Nobody I knew at all.  I realized I had no pants on, but was covered by a blanket.  I reached down to pull up my pants, which I found easily enough.  

Dream of short story and soup

 There was a short story workshop going on. A guy ended his story like this:

"Nos casamos a los dos meses. No fue una buena buena idea ni para Ana ni para mí. Pero así es la vida."

[We married two months later. It was not a good idea either for Ana or for me. But that's life.]

At leases my unconscious Spanish grammar is fine. Before, in the story, someone had made an unsatisfactory soup with tomato purée and some other ingredients. Somehow this mediocre soup was connected to the mediocre marriage these people were going to have.  

There were several other exchanges of idea going on through zoom channels. Nothing was very clear for the rest of the night.  

Dream of zen poetry

 I was in a library reference room, and found an issue of a journal called Berkeley Poetry Review. It was a special feature on Lawrence zen poetry, and a picture of me and my ex-wife and daughter, looking like a young family, on the cover. I was featured with a few poems and an essay on zen poetry. I was puzzled because this was done without my knowledge / permission. I tried to check out the magazine to bring home with me, but was told that reference materials could not be checked out. A tall individual wanted to look at it, so I let him. I was leaving, and realized I had left my coat with my keys and phone in it.  I tried out several coats but could not find my own.  

The poems were rather silly ones, though I don't remember what they were, exactly. I don't really believe in zen poetry, per se.  

Another post about the original article

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