i had another end of the world dream today actually, this morning. my alarm went off at 8ish, i woke up. then dozed again.

i was riding in the front seat of a car, passenger. there were two people seated in the back. we're driving on a straight, long road through what looks like a large plains. off in the distance, mountains. a storm starts to gather, but no rain. then. man, then..
things get ugly fast. first, there's the big storm maybe a mile ahead of us. then, lightning, and things start popping out of the ground. like, mini geysers of steam, light, water. all over the place. the driver barely misses hitting them. things get really chaotic, then, the worst happens as we get closer to the storm. first, i see about 20 or 30 tornadoes start forming, defintely touching down. second, hundreds of people that were driving have abandoned their cars on the side of the road, trying to run away. the car only just barely misses hitting them, some of whom are getting hit by the lava geyers, and being burned. it looks scary. i kept thinking, this has to be a dream, this has to be a dream. then the earth opens up, we fall for a while, that sucks. of course. falling in a dream. hate that.

we land in a big pool of water. actually, part of the road flooded about three feet. we get our things from the car, survival gear mostly. the storm has died down, we start walking like refugees with the other thousand people in the area, just...walking. then i realize that almost everyone is walking the other way, saying things about "noah's ark"

we we turn around. the other 3 people and me. well, no. two of them dissapeared, leaving me to drag the raft and the other person. on the way,  i give pieces of gum to three people that are walking.

we must've walked for days, more and more people heading to this place. its pretty sad. we're at this old bus depot in a city. there are long lines, but i don't know for what.

looking around, i see what have to be spaceships. that's all they can be. they are huge, 34-40 stories tall, made of silver metal, glowing in places, dotted with port windows. they are sitting on the ground, guarded by military. i wonder who decides who goes and who doesn't.
one is completely full already. they're leaving soon. people start trying to push their way in. its not pretty. the other one has a shorter line, somehow. i climb the stairs to try to get on, try to skip around the line, and the guards tell me to start over. so i do. i climb the stairs, get up, and realize that i've been here before. deja vu. its an area that seems to be made of stone? or fake stone? its a maze. i'm not sure what i'm looking for, but i'm looking. i climb up, around, getting good handholds. some things break. i get up to the top, where the material changes and i realize...i realize i'm somewhere else. deja vu again, but this time i'm in the dream version of an actual place i've been to before. except...its different. the secret attic room of the east house in warwick, ny. no such thing exists but for me. the last time i was there, i was attacked by bats. the room was barely furnished or finished. now, there was handsome wooed paneling, furniture, carpet. visiting other rooms, i find that it is much the same, kitchen, common area.

but this isn't why i am here. i find the way i used to get to the attic, go back, because i have no idea. then i see it. a small alcove hidden away, where there are sitting three cd's and a bunch of credit card sized pouches. i take one of the pouch things, which has something that looks and feels like one of those keychain jewel cards. its got a number and such. i rush back out, gotta get to that ship before it leaves....and, of course, just as i get out, i see that the first one is fifty feet off the ground. i run towards the other one, realizing that my ticket? is for that one, ship number 97B. I run. its just started to lift off. i hold up my key? for them and they stop. a worker takes my key, reads the id number to the crew of the ship. they say to come aboard, quickly.

hearing this, the worker pockets the key and walks away, giving me a damn fine evil look. i say - no...thats mine... but he's just looking evil and walking toward the ship.

then some guy in a suit, but not doing so well, unshaven, displaced, comes up to him and says - give that back. and the worker just looks at him and scoffs. then the guy in a suit pulls out a pistol and shoots him.

at which point i'm screaming NO! but its too late. the key's now covered in blood. the worker's blood. f. the suit guy gives it to me. he has one too. we get to the ship. get on. he looks familiar. i ask him why that is. he says to me that he was the president of the miss america pageant. and then i'm like, ooooo, i saw you on tv. and he says he's not too proud of that.

then i say to him, no, not about the time you messed up, never saw that. the he mentions something else he's messed up on tv. never saw that either. but i did see you win that key.

in my dream, i had never seen this happen. i lied to a guy, willingly and knowingly, in a dream. what!?

there was another person int he compartment with us. talking with him a while, i started to get very sad about the people i knew. i wondered how many of them were on these ships.

:: end of the dream ::

ok, what ? two apocolypse dreams? this is weird.

"After the comparative stability of the thirteenth century, the fourteenth saw disruption and turmoil. The economy and population of western Europe declined, ravaged by famine, war, and plague. Conflicts and scandals tarnished the Church, and revolts challenged secular authorities. Yet, the fourteenth cntury was also a period of remarkable creativity,. The desire to understand and control nature spurred advances in science and technology, and an increasing interest in the world, the individual, and human nature led to aurt and literature that was more true to life and more eager to please its audience."

Hello! Its Wednesday, and I hope you are doing well.

I have, in fact, been working on my research paper for early music for the past hour and half.

I have also been led to the opinion that the majority of notions about instrumental music in the "Renaissance" (a historical term which is problematic enough alone without any other influence) are just that: notions, opinions or derivations on scant surviving works, and the, somewhat egotistical and self-serving works of certain scholars in the past who have colored what information I can read published in the past hundred years. I question if it is even possible to approach this subject from anywhere but a highly biased, post-modern gaze. Worse, I feel that the inability to prove anything, or even, perhaps, to make a substantial argument based on concrete proof or evidence would result...in a really terrible paper.

It is somewhat troubling for me to come to the conclusion, two weeks before finishing college, that I am only finally taking issue of the lack of proof in anything, as it has been my credo to argue both sides of an argument, first, last and always. For me to come to this realization in writing a paper for early music history class is intriguing, too. In writing and researching English papers, I was always certain of the idea that there were no concrete answers, allowing for interpretation of works, "reading between lines", but in studying music history, this seems an impossible task outside of the actual harmonic material, notes, durations, instrumentation, possibly extending to the composers, performers, their histories, countries, lives, culture. But the perceived (to my eyes) and severe lack of this information in the context we are in, this is what troubles me! True enough, if one goes back the same distance in literature, the same problem arises, so perhaps it is the degree to which facts seem lacking that I cannot seem to tolerate. Later on in music's "history" there is more recorded information, more questions, more evidence, this sense of helplessness I am having (and have been having for the past...three months) resolves a bit.

It just seems so impossible for me to honestly say in a paper anything that has to do with instrumental music of five centuries ago, knowing full well that my claims or arguments are based on the claims of others which are then based on claims of other people who, in the end, admit that they cannot actually prove anything. I would instead say that, this person said this, which is based on this, but there would have to be a disclaimer after every single sentence stating that nothing is certain, and that any positions are only positions, educated guesses. Which, in the end, is the basis for scholarship, educational guesses backed by good documentation and possible evidence.

...blargh.