Day 53: Nakatajima dunes and little dreams
For the past two nights I have dreamt of game development. Historically this isn't unusual, I have spent many nights with happy and troubled dreams of work over my 15 year career, it is par for the course.
However this is noteworthy as I have not dreamt of my work in nearly a year, ever since I was forced off of a project I killed myself for three year to give life to and keep running, with no clear reasons given for my sudden and dubious ejection.
These dreams reflect a small ember that is once again glowing in me. As painful as it was to lose my team and my project. As creatively destructive as it was keeping my project and myself going those last few years, I can feel that my desire to make games is slowly returning. I am slowly shaking off layers of a burnt out husk.
Last night I dreamt I was back working at Relic, a place I look back on with fond memories and have often dreamt of when stressed at a new studio. This dream wasn't prophetic, it wasn't even interesting, I was just making games there again with old friends, contentedly.
...
I woke early to get ready for the day, as the one oddity of my current lodging is that all guests have to be out of the facility between 10am and 3pm. With my daybag packed I set out to grab a sandwich from the local 7-11 and plan my day.
Leaving the hostel I was greeted with two happy sights. The first being a sunny day, the first in nearly a week, and a very welcome break from the rain. Second was my local 7-11 decked out in an impressive Halloween showing:
Eating my breakfast I looked at the map, with no idea what to do today. My foot was feeling good for the first time since the rain injured it, so I decided to set out further afield and set my sights on the Pacific, some 6.5km south.
My goal for the day was to reach Nakatajima sand dunes, and along the way see if my foot was truly on the mend, or if my nerve endings simply hadn't woken up for the day quite yet.
Google maps showed me all the optimal routes to the shore, but I chose to take a longer route, following the Magome river as it wound its way through Hamamatsu to the ocean.
This proved to be an excellent choice, as it was set away from any major roads, and the bustle of the city was barely to be heard. The loudest intrusion to my walk was the occasionally duck quacking and diving for food.
I followed the path as it slowly snaked south through the city. The scenery was quiet, with small houses and occasionally farm plots lining my route.
As the river neared the coast the path became flanked on both sides with bamboo and it drew my attention upwards. However, no sooner than I looked up, something scurried off the path in my peripheral vision and I came to a reflexive halt.
I have seen the occasional rodent while walking, and assumed perhaps a mouse has darted into the tiny plants lining the path's edge. I stepped towards the plant in question and peered down at it, and in doing so it rustled again. Whatever was in there could see me and was making sure I could not see it.
Knowing I was unlikely to find the source of the movement I continued on, and the wind rustled the bamboo as I headed forward. Or so I thought.
Another brief blur of movement a few meters ahead where the path had looked empty, and once again I stopped. Unexpectedly the "wind" stopped with me.
Now I would like to think I am some sort of demi god that the wind blusters around in an attempt to win my favour, but I am most certainly not.
With each step, the underbrush rustled as though a breeze passed through it. Each pause brought calm to the plants around me. I definitely was not alone among the bamboo. This set the hairs on the back of my neck on end immediately.
I stood and though about what it might be... Too far from the forest for monkeys. Unlikely to be that many mice. I was puzzled and decided it best to keep moving, agitating the brush once again.
After only a few steps my eyes saw the clear path once again spring to life a few meter ahead, and low and behold, it was small crabs! The rough asphalt path bathed in shade by the bamboo seemed to be a casual resting place for them, and my approach set them scurrying to the safety of the nearby plants.
They were small, no more that 2 or 3 inches wide at the legs, and fast. They could spot me and dash onto hiding long before I was ever close enough to catch them on camera.
Feeling a sense of relief, I continued forward, with a few hundred meters of bamboo left in front of me. But as I walked the constant sound of rustling from all around me kept the gears in my head moving. For crabs that small to be making that much noise... There must be hundreds of them around at any given moment.
As harmless as they were, this realization made my skin crawl, and I kept my pace quick until I broke from the grove.
The end of the path would ultimately take me to a park, which would signal that it was time to turn away from the river and move to the dunes. As I passed through the park, a large earthen mound dominated the landscape, and reminded me of a massive burial mound.
As we were in the middle of a city, that possibility seemed unlikely, and my curiosity drew me closer. A sign made it clear that why this odd looking hill existed in an otherwise flat and manicured park.
It's easy to forget the long history of natural disasters Japan has, or the precarious position on the globe it sits in. I climbed to the top of the ~15 meter hill and sat to look out over the surroundings. I was easily higher than 95% of the buildings as far as I could see.
As I sat, I looked down to see an old man cycle across the park with what looked to be a red and white banner in hand. He calmly parked his bike under a tree and my attention went elsewhere until a few minutes later when I found myself being buzzed by the old man's sign, which was actually a rectangular kite riding on the ocean winds.
It seems I had stumbled into a prime spot for kite enthusiasts, as soon there was another man setting up his kite as well.
Watching the kites on the breeze for a while I enjoyed the tranquility, but decided to keep moving. As I was leaving the park and headed towards the dunes another man opened the back of his van to revels half a dozen large kites in the back, and he selected his preferred kite for the day and headed into the park to stake his ground.
I left the men to their kites and crossed the road to catch the first glimpse of the Nakatajima sand dunes.
With my first steps into the sand, I could tell that I would be finding sand in my shoes for days to come. Fine to the point of almost being powder, I was tempted to take my socks and shoes off and walk barefoot, but with an open blister on the bottom of my foot, I thought better of it and kept them tightly on my feet.
I didn't revel the climb up the first imposing dune, remembering all those years back to climbing dunes in the Sahara and knowing how punishing that was, sand constantly shifting and giving way under foot. But the effort was worth it as Nakatajima came into view.
I headed down into the dunes, listening to the crash of the tide rolling along the shoreline that stretched out to the horizon on either side. I came to a small rise in the sand, peppered with thick blades of grass and decided to take my days meditation there, as I could think of no better place.
As my breathing found it's slow rhythm, I let my mind wander, expecting to consider the previous night's dreams and my career path forward. But instead I found my mind thinking about something else entirely.
I have lead most of my life saying no to things most people say yes too. Sometimes things worth avoiding like alcohol, smoking and drugs, but also a lot of things positive things as well.
My mind circled around why I am so closed and defensive, and pondered if that defense was infact doing more harm than good. I know why those defenses exist; a childhood spent tortured by my school mates left me with the ones at conclusion that ant expression of interest, happiness or joy was a weakness that could be exploited.
But why do those defense remain? I came to no clear answers, but let my mind continue to wander.
As I sat there, my mind fell quiet, and I felt different. It's hard to express with my limited writing skills what I felt, but I felt how big the space around me was, limitless. I don't mean that I heard the ocean, or felt the wind, but for a brief moment I felt the size of the world around me in a different way...
And suddenly the timer rang, my 30 minutes had passed, and I was tugged back into the present moment. My eyes struggled to adjust as I reached for my phone, careful not to drop it into the fine sand and make a real mess of it as well.
From here I walked through the dunes and down to the water, exploring the shore for a while. Admiring the colorful rocks and crashing waves.
Before long the sun was falling from the sky, and I knew I had a long walk back to make. Not eager to leave, but less eager to be caught in the poorly lit roads at night, I made my way out of the dunes, pausing at the entrance to empty my shoes of a generous quantity of fine sand.
I passed through the park once more, hoping to spot the kites in the sky, but found instead only fading blue emptiness. And with that I headed home to soak my body in the hot baths for the night and rest.
My feet proved to manage the casual 13km walk with little issues, the pain almost gone and my confidence for the next leg restored.
However this is noteworthy as I have not dreamt of my work in nearly a year, ever since I was forced off of a project I killed myself for three year to give life to and keep running, with no clear reasons given for my sudden and dubious ejection.
These dreams reflect a small ember that is once again glowing in me. As painful as it was to lose my team and my project. As creatively destructive as it was keeping my project and myself going those last few years, I can feel that my desire to make games is slowly returning. I am slowly shaking off layers of a burnt out husk.
Last night I dreamt I was back working at Relic, a place I look back on with fond memories and have often dreamt of when stressed at a new studio. This dream wasn't prophetic, it wasn't even interesting, I was just making games there again with old friends, contentedly.
...
I woke early to get ready for the day, as the one oddity of my current lodging is that all guests have to be out of the facility between 10am and 3pm. With my daybag packed I set out to grab a sandwich from the local 7-11 and plan my day.
Leaving the hostel I was greeted with two happy sights. The first being a sunny day, the first in nearly a week, and a very welcome break from the rain. Second was my local 7-11 decked out in an impressive Halloween showing:
There are four of these little guys around the store, and they make me grin every time they do their thing!
Eating my breakfast I looked at the map, with no idea what to do today. My foot was feeling good for the first time since the rain injured it, so I decided to set out further afield and set my sights on the Pacific, some 6.5km south.
My goal for the day was to reach Nakatajima sand dunes, and along the way see if my foot was truly on the mend, or if my nerve endings simply hadn't woken up for the day quite yet.
Google maps showed me all the optimal routes to the shore, but I chose to take a longer route, following the Magome river as it wound its way through Hamamatsu to the ocean.
This proved to be an excellent choice, as it was set away from any major roads, and the bustle of the city was barely to be heard. The loudest intrusion to my walk was the occasionally duck quacking and diving for food.
I followed the path as it slowly snaked south through the city. The scenery was quiet, with small houses and occasionally farm plots lining my route.
As the river neared the coast the path became flanked on both sides with bamboo and it drew my attention upwards. However, no sooner than I looked up, something scurried off the path in my peripheral vision and I came to a reflexive halt.
I have seen the occasional rodent while walking, and assumed perhaps a mouse has darted into the tiny plants lining the path's edge. I stepped towards the plant in question and peered down at it, and in doing so it rustled again. Whatever was in there could see me and was making sure I could not see it.
Knowing I was unlikely to find the source of the movement I continued on, and the wind rustled the bamboo as I headed forward. Or so I thought.
Another brief blur of movement a few meters ahead where the path had looked empty, and once again I stopped. Unexpectedly the "wind" stopped with me.
Now I would like to think I am some sort of demi god that the wind blusters around in an attempt to win my favour, but I am most certainly not.
With each step, the underbrush rustled as though a breeze passed through it. Each pause brought calm to the plants around me. I definitely was not alone among the bamboo. This set the hairs on the back of my neck on end immediately.
I stood and though about what it might be... Too far from the forest for monkeys. Unlikely to be that many mice. I was puzzled and decided it best to keep moving, agitating the brush once again.
After only a few steps my eyes saw the clear path once again spring to life a few meter ahead, and low and behold, it was small crabs! The rough asphalt path bathed in shade by the bamboo seemed to be a casual resting place for them, and my approach set them scurrying to the safety of the nearby plants.
They were small, no more that 2 or 3 inches wide at the legs, and fast. They could spot me and dash onto hiding long before I was ever close enough to catch them on camera.
Feeling a sense of relief, I continued forward, with a few hundred meters of bamboo left in front of me. But as I walked the constant sound of rustling from all around me kept the gears in my head moving. For crabs that small to be making that much noise... There must be hundreds of them around at any given moment.
As harmless as they were, this realization made my skin crawl, and I kept my pace quick until I broke from the grove.
The end of the path would ultimately take me to a park, which would signal that it was time to turn away from the river and move to the dunes. As I passed through the park, a large earthen mound dominated the landscape, and reminded me of a massive burial mound.
As we were in the middle of a city, that possibility seemed unlikely, and my curiosity drew me closer. A sign made it clear that why this odd looking hill existed in an otherwise flat and manicured park.
This was a refuge point in case of a tsunami.
It's easy to forget the long history of natural disasters Japan has, or the precarious position on the globe it sits in. I climbed to the top of the ~15 meter hill and sat to look out over the surroundings. I was easily higher than 95% of the buildings as far as I could see.
As I sat, I looked down to see an old man cycle across the park with what looked to be a red and white banner in hand. He calmly parked his bike under a tree and my attention went elsewhere until a few minutes later when I found myself being buzzed by the old man's sign, which was actually a rectangular kite riding on the ocean winds.
It seems I had stumbled into a prime spot for kite enthusiasts, as soon there was another man setting up his kite as well.
Watching the kites on the breeze for a while I enjoyed the tranquility, but decided to keep moving. As I was leaving the park and headed towards the dunes another man opened the back of his van to revels half a dozen large kites in the back, and he selected his preferred kite for the day and headed into the park to stake his ground.
I left the men to their kites and crossed the road to catch the first glimpse of the Nakatajima sand dunes.
With my first steps into the sand, I could tell that I would be finding sand in my shoes for days to come. Fine to the point of almost being powder, I was tempted to take my socks and shoes off and walk barefoot, but with an open blister on the bottom of my foot, I thought better of it and kept them tightly on my feet.
I didn't revel the climb up the first imposing dune, remembering all those years back to climbing dunes in the Sahara and knowing how punishing that was, sand constantly shifting and giving way under foot. But the effort was worth it as Nakatajima came into view.
I headed down into the dunes, listening to the crash of the tide rolling along the shoreline that stretched out to the horizon on either side. I came to a small rise in the sand, peppered with thick blades of grass and decided to take my days meditation there, as I could think of no better place.
As my breathing found it's slow rhythm, I let my mind wander, expecting to consider the previous night's dreams and my career path forward. But instead I found my mind thinking about something else entirely.
I have lead most of my life saying no to things most people say yes too. Sometimes things worth avoiding like alcohol, smoking and drugs, but also a lot of things positive things as well.
My mind circled around why I am so closed and defensive, and pondered if that defense was infact doing more harm than good. I know why those defenses exist; a childhood spent tortured by my school mates left me with the ones at conclusion that ant expression of interest, happiness or joy was a weakness that could be exploited.
But why do those defense remain? I came to no clear answers, but let my mind continue to wander.
As I sat there, my mind fell quiet, and I felt different. It's hard to express with my limited writing skills what I felt, but I felt how big the space around me was, limitless. I don't mean that I heard the ocean, or felt the wind, but for a brief moment I felt the size of the world around me in a different way...
And suddenly the timer rang, my 30 minutes had passed, and I was tugged back into the present moment. My eyes struggled to adjust as I reached for my phone, careful not to drop it into the fine sand and make a real mess of it as well.
From here I walked through the dunes and down to the water, exploring the shore for a while. Admiring the colorful rocks and crashing waves.
The stone beachfront made a wonderful sound with each receding wave.
Before long the sun was falling from the sky, and I knew I had a long walk back to make. Not eager to leave, but less eager to be caught in the poorly lit roads at night, I made my way out of the dunes, pausing at the entrance to empty my shoes of a generous quantity of fine sand.
I passed through the park once more, hoping to spot the kites in the sky, but found instead only fading blue emptiness. And with that I headed home to soak my body in the hot baths for the night and rest.
My feet proved to manage the casual 13km walk with little issues, the pain almost gone and my confidence for the next leg restored.
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