Rain Dance
The semester is picking up right about the time that work has as well. Its been a pretty busy few weeks, and it looks like will continue until the end of the semester. Seem to be on more of a morning schedule lately, crashing after I get back from my late night classes and getting up before the alarm clock goes off. Something that comes with my shift in schedule is that I remember my dreams much more vividly. Last night’s was vivid enough to recall, and interesting enough to be worth mentioning.
I am walking from my house to the university in the pouring rain, there is a small group of people with me some my age and some kids from the neighborhood who are coming along for the ride. We all talk and laugh along the way, jumping in puddles and sticking our feet in the small storm drain streams that are forming along the sidewalk, forcing the water to overflow over our feet. As the rain gets heavier, the streams become small rivers, although nothing too unusual for the rainy season. As we get closer to faculty housing the rain picks up even more, and I start clapping my hands to the rhythm of the rain pouring around us and the sound echoes. Some of the people I am with start dancing to the rhythm. After a short while, a middle aged, wily, professor-type lady appears from the nearby building and calls out to us smiling, motioning us to come into the courtyard.
We make our way into the building entrance to find an open air courtyard with towering bamboo shooting up the middle in between the large concrete slabs, forming a sort of grove surrounded by the concrete of the building. The sky above is gray through the enormous glass skylights which either due to intentional design or disrepair are funneling the rain down to the ground below in large globs. The sound of the rain constantly coming down makes a very loud sound on the ground, and now all of us are clapping to the rhythm, some of us start dancing in a circle in the middle of the courtyard. Eventually the sound and laughter catches the attention of a nearby class or meeting of much older women, whom happen to be either friends or students of the professor. The older women quickly join us, forming their own circle of dancers, although they are moving in a slower yet deliberate and choreographed motion. The mood overall is joyous, and spontaneous, with everyone laughing and having a good time, all in the pouring rain.
Linkes for 11/5/2007
Remember the 5 of the November?
Interesting article about the bomb as a war atrocity against Christians
This is called a budget?
The three “As”
Dropout Factories
Zipcar Acquiring Flexcar in Merger