Bookmarks again

I haven’t completely given up on Hubzilla bookmarks, because it is so easy to drop them in through the bookmarklet. So now I have two parallel systems of dealing with links, each fighting to assert its supremacy.

I realized that for certain types of links, such as songs, it’s better to give them a dedicated card. I don’t envisage an exhaustive catalogue, but as a nice place to store and share favorites. On the other hand, I’m not sure that I want to provide links to non-libre services. For now, maybe I will use Invidio.us, though then the links will last only as long as the particular Invidio.us instance remains in service.

Dream

I dreamt that it was necessary for me and some friends to flee from Israel to Gaza. Because the country was currently in the midst of a “wave of terror”, this, for some reason, brought us under suspicion by the authorities. In running away I had to evade a friendly police officer who had been sent to keep an eye on me. One of our friends, Rotem, was especially on the watch list, but we arranged to meet up when we reached the border. The border was a kind of wild, forested area (which in no way corresponds to reality). We saw various groups of people hanging out there, camping or partying.

Once across we were welcomed by our contacts, and felt safe from the Israeli authorities, except that we suspected the presence of informers. There was a perception that we would never truly be out of danger. What happened afterwards was muddled; as if the dream had lost its plot.

When I recall dreams, in the half-waking state that follows sleep or later, I’m always aware that the dream has been spun from various scraps of experience, usually from the previous day.

For example, the feeling that imbued this dream of being a kind of dissident related to news stories I’d read about Russian citizens who oppose the Ukraine war. The police officers seem to originate from a novel I have just started by Paul Bowles. I see many people picnicking or camping in the woods during my afternoon walks. Rotem probably popped up because I have just been clearing out the room where he’d lived.

I can usually explain every feature of a dream with some such scrap of experience, but the way that these elements are chosen is interesting, as is the existence of an internal storyteller who is able to weave them together into a somewhat coherent plot.