Chris Walsh (chris_walsh) wrote,
Chris Walsh


I missed this morning's meteor. The DJ I had my clock-radio tuned to was taking calls from people in Beaverton, Scholls, Estacada and Battleground who'd seen it. "Sounds like a meteor," I thought, "maybe." One person heard nothing but said it had seemed "like someone had taken a flash picture of me"; someone else thought it'd been a transformer explosion. But it was a meteor, moving west to east and seen in at least three states. Cool.

At the time all this happened, I was waking up, and still lingering in the warmth of a warm dream. (Someone pretty and redheaded figured in it. I'll say no more. Heh.)

On the tram to the hill, people were looking east (towards a lovely sunrise above the fog bank above east Portland), and noticing contrails. Talk about seeing what you want to see: they thought the contrails were from more meteors ("from the comet that went by this morning"; um, no, that wasn't it; a comet passing that close to Earth would've made the news, big time, even more so than Fidel Castro resigning). I finally saw the contrails and they were from airplanes, flying north-to-south in a stretched-out row. I resisted rolling my eyes.

I'm glad I've seen a meteor before, when I was a kid (about age 6) in Rancho Bernardo, California. I've missed others since then, but I have the memory of that one. And it was a big one, big and flaming and multi-colored and (the most surreal touch) completely silent. Maybe that one was a falling satellite.

At least this meteor wasn't that satellite...
Tags: dreams, portland

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