Last night I dreamt that I’d connected up with my Norwegian professor from college and her husband. They were planning to spend several months homesteading on a tiny, frozen island in the North Atlantic called Ttk Ttk, which in my dream was the site of an old Viking outpost. This was something of a survivalist trip, and I was going with them as an observer, so there was a great deal of logistical stuff going on in the dream. Lots of prep work being undertaken in some snowy, unnamed city that might have been Bergen, Norway. Plus, oddly, something about black bears.
I think ‘Ttk Ttk’, or something like it, is the name of a methane-breathing race in C.J. Cherryh’s Chanur books. I assume the whole island thing is my subconscious processing my proposed trip to Antarctica. I have no idea what the black bears were about, nor why I’m dreaming of a college professor whom I liked a great deal but haven’t thought about in a decade or two. Dr. Sverre was a Norwegian married to an American, and she had near-native fluency in at least four languages, and was quite a good teacher.
But still. Me, on a North Atlantic rock for months with no technology? Then I woke up to discover that the heat had turned itself off and my comforter had slipped off the bed.
Cold dreams, indeed. Jeg moret.