New word, entered in the dream: sharp-edged puddle. The dream was reasonably lucid, there was serious talk about the need to protect the sharp edge puddles. Everyone was aware of its importance, nobody asked the crucial question: What is that supposed to be, a sharp-edged puddle?
It must be assured that no drugs were involved in the dream, nor were other mind-expanding techniques such as meditation or just sitting around used. The term sharp-edged puddle was fully present even after awakening, with the only difference that what was previously clear and unequivocal now seemed to be a piece from a Dadaist play, with everyone around constantly shouting “sharp-edge puddle” and the audience deliberately cradles his head in his hands and pretends to understand what is at stake.
Are there sharp-edged puddles in Munich, in Upper Bavaria, in Europe at all? In the five lakes? The accumulations of water there are much too big for puddles and are not characterized by sharp edges, but by the water’s edge constantly moving forwards and backwards, to the delight of surfers. The streams in the English Garden have clearly defined borders, sometimes even made of granite, but they are streams, not puddles.
By definition, puddles can only be temporary accumulations of water that disappear again as soon as the rain stops, either through seepage or evaporation. But why should something like this be worth protecting? And where would the sharp edge come from? The curbs on the sidewalks? Then a sharp-edged puddle would be a puddle between the road and the sidewalk, terminating in its edge. That’s still rubbish, but that’s the only way to explain the word formation, if not its meaning, to some extent. All that remains is the hope that the dream will continue one of the next few nights and that there will then be a logical explanation. sharp edge puddle, ts.