I love it when previously established facts and frontiers are blown out. Today brings two examples, one from science and one from history.

Example 1: We thought we knew what kinds of insects there were. To be specific, 30 orders ~ the last of them identified in 1914.

Wrong.

The tiny wingless creatures probably went unnoticed because they looked like immature stages of other bugs.

Now the sky's the limit. Dr. Erwin, one of the scientists, cautioned against thinking that this 31st order was the end of the story: "As we continue to explore and get back into more and more remote areas, we'll find more."

Example 2: Writing, and human history, had by consensus generally been considered to begin in ancient Sumeria (now Iraq), growing out of commerce accounts kept on clay tablets.

But archeaological research in Egypt is challenging that version of the story. The recent discovery of a stone tablet pictorially narrating the victory of one ruler over another appears to be a clear precursor to hieroglyphics.

As a timely Hollywood bonus, the researchers think it's specifically referring to the King Scorpion, previously believed to be mythical.

5:58:18 PM    please comment []

We sat in a restaurant after 11, eating a late dinner. The conversation revolved around dreams, and specifically dreams about flying.

I told how my flying dreams fall into two distinct categories. In one, I can't fly properly if anyone is looking at me. And when I can manage it, I'm constantly imperiled by high-tension wires which impede my access to the sky. In the others, which are much rarer and very wonderful, I'm empowered to teach others to fly, by flying with them, holding their hands, until it is natural to them.

He told me about his flying and floating dreams, and that sometimes he dreams that he's floating and thinks, "Well, I can't seem to fly like I do in my dreams, but at least I can float." Yesterday, B- emailed me and recounted another one like that.

To me, a conversation about dreams is a very intimate thing. Telling another about them makes me feel vulnerable and revealed. But I suppose not everyone shares this notion, and some find dreams to be simply entertaining, or grotesque, or meaningless. If I want to be known, I will tell someone my dreams.

Last night I dreamt I was in Bethlehem, and was taken by some Palestinians to the top floor of an apartment building that hadn't been destroyed, where they were hiding out. The place was packed with young men and scary guns. I looked out a narrow window down onto the Church of the Nativity and tears began streaming down my face. The men were dumbfounded and I stood and cried for the waste of it all.

12:41:26 PM    please comment []