the dream anarchitecture of wasland

7:05 am teeeeewwzday slept embers 16 2025 had broken sleep, but had a recurring dream, anxietyish, with some changes naturally, early this morning. these days, my recurring dreams have and are of this element

me, usually from my point of view, on some pursuit in an urban setting, within and around or through the liminal in-between areas of coty buildings. and most certainly modeled after San Franciso, around Market Street and SOMA plus the edge of The Mission near the freeway, Trader Joe's. but yeah very Market Street area.

my pursuit is hectic and stressfull, with an unknown objective or aim. I usually end up going through one building to somehow get to a top back entrance way into a mall, which I eventually enter.

it's pretty bleak entire way, fairly empty, shaded by buildings and urban architecture that is designed to offer outdoor resting or lunching spots, but really. these are a fail and markers for a dim mood and bleak or lost aims.

usually daytime with a late afternoon feel.

I pass a few people and various parked cars. but they all are fairly indistinct unmemorable and vague.

vapors n spectres n artifacts modern ancientism

not a wasteland per se

a wasland

7:41 am I gotta say

everything is pretty clean in wasland.

it's San Francisco with shades of LA and people friendly. or

unpeopled friendly

or neutral friendly

vague friendly

wasfriendly

dimfriendly

there's a bank of blank friendlyness here, that

that keeps on giving. keeps on pumping. that's humming along. a vague empty shallow tune. a human dog whistle invisible to the ear.

we can barely hear it. but we do.

wasland can barely be seen. but we do.

it's questionable is wasland is even here, in the outside of ourselves, as we travel through it, or

on the inside of ourselves, as we or rather I try to escape it. but escape it into what?

wasland is escaping me.

wasland is always here.

wasland is never here, and only here, when I'm in the midst of escaping it.

how will I know? how will I know when I escape it?

there's only the feeling of escaping one part of wasland into another.

that same human whistle is present. that low hum or buzz. but that could really be just me. my body, uh, reminding me that I'm here. tracking myself. tracing myself to make sure I'm here. I'm . . on the ball. and with it. I'm keeping up with myself. that whistle sez so. that is, if it really is there.

is wasland really is there?

I'm on the hunt for the really is there in wasland.