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Had a weird dream last night. I was driving through the desert with my parents. Earlier in the dream, there'd been a conference or something in a big city. Dad was somehow part of it, and Mom and I had gone along for the trip. (Just realizing as I write this that IRL my brothers-in-law both tend to get sent overseas on business, and, every once in a while, their families book vacations to coincide. This has never happened with my dad.) We met up with Dad at a museum that was near our hotel and then drove out into the desert, I think on our way home.
I looked out the window. We were on the side of a mountain, and there was a panoramic view of these huge rock formations all the way out to the horizon. Mom said that she'd seen pictures in the city and had wanted me to see the real thing. As we came down the mountainside and got closer to the rocks, I realized it was Monument Valley (even though it didn't look like the real thing). And then, an instant later, I realized that the part we were driving through was actually a famous ancient burial ground (which, of course, does not exist IRL), and that many of the formations had been carved or built as monuments to the dead. Sure enough, as soon as I realized that, I looked back and saw a huge sign with an imposing sigil declaring that this was Monument Valley. I told my parents that we were in Northern Nevada (which is not where Monument Valley is, and which actually looks like this - and that sign is about the most interesting thing there) and that I'd been here on my drive last year.
We pulled off on a side road to this place that was a strange kind of museum. Locals were getting this sort of waxy clay from the valley and using it to mold and carve detailed replicas of some of the elaborate items and markers in the burial grounds. Markers which were known to be strange, unique, and highly varied. The place was filled with oddities and wonders. They showed us a couple of things they were working on. One was a half-finished replica of a decorated spire. The original was a towering rock which had been shaped into a gigantic sculpture. The other was a round box with an etched drawing of a boat on its lid. At first I thought it was an Egyptian-style boat designed to carry people to the afterlife (a common motif in many cultures, but something about it made me think Egyptian). Mom gave it an interested glance and then handed it over. I looked more closely. It was a medium-sized rowboat. There were a few people in and near the boat, and they were lying on the ground, trampled and bleeding. There were animals all around them. How strange. I looked some more. It became clear that what had looked to be the background was actually a much larger ship, and there were a few more trampled people and yet more animals. Wait, it wasn't a ship. It was an ark. Noah's ark. The animals had escaped, crushed Noah and his family, and were rejoicing in their freedom. And some ancient personage with an odd sense of humor had chosen to have that scene carved on the lid of a box to be placed in his burial chamber.
And that's when I woke up.
I looked out the window. We were on the side of a mountain, and there was a panoramic view of these huge rock formations all the way out to the horizon. Mom said that she'd seen pictures in the city and had wanted me to see the real thing. As we came down the mountainside and got closer to the rocks, I realized it was Monument Valley (even though it didn't look like the real thing). And then, an instant later, I realized that the part we were driving through was actually a famous ancient burial ground (which, of course, does not exist IRL), and that many of the formations had been carved or built as monuments to the dead. Sure enough, as soon as I realized that, I looked back and saw a huge sign with an imposing sigil declaring that this was Monument Valley. I told my parents that we were in Northern Nevada (which is not where Monument Valley is, and which actually looks like this - and that sign is about the most interesting thing there) and that I'd been here on my drive last year.
We pulled off on a side road to this place that was a strange kind of museum. Locals were getting this sort of waxy clay from the valley and using it to mold and carve detailed replicas of some of the elaborate items and markers in the burial grounds. Markers which were known to be strange, unique, and highly varied. The place was filled with oddities and wonders. They showed us a couple of things they were working on. One was a half-finished replica of a decorated spire. The original was a towering rock which had been shaped into a gigantic sculpture. The other was a round box with an etched drawing of a boat on its lid. At first I thought it was an Egyptian-style boat designed to carry people to the afterlife (a common motif in many cultures, but something about it made me think Egyptian). Mom gave it an interested glance and then handed it over. I looked more closely. It was a medium-sized rowboat. There were a few people in and near the boat, and they were lying on the ground, trampled and bleeding. There were animals all around them. How strange. I looked some more. It became clear that what had looked to be the background was actually a much larger ship, and there were a few more trampled people and yet more animals. Wait, it wasn't a ship. It was an ark. Noah's ark. The animals had escaped, crushed Noah and his family, and were rejoicing in their freedom. And some ancient personage with an odd sense of humor had chosen to have that scene carved on the lid of a box to be placed in his burial chamber.
And that's when I woke up.
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