It’s been several months since my last Antarctic dream and I’d been missing it.  This made the revisit particularly satisfying; I was really glad to go back.  I try not to analyze the psycho/emotional aspects of these things too deeply as that’s not my field of expertise.  One thing I did notice, however about the difference between the last and the one I had several months ago, was the aspect of safety.  I was a lot safer in this dream.  The large space of the compound and protective glass dome made it safe.  At one point in the dream, I even remember feeling distantly concerned I might be missing something more exciting that was happening elsewhere by spending so much of my Arctic adventure (who knows when I’ll be back?) hanging around the compound, surfing the net and taking cashews and chocolates from gift boxes made from old schwag bags.  There were all these scientists, computers, and an Antarctic Sesame Street broadcast.  (Actually turned out to be a syndication of something already shot because the actors didn’t live in Antarctica.)  There were hand written cards and letters on the wall.  One, in particular, a friend asked me to check on because  It eluded to a genocide in Africa.  The thought maybe there was something I could do about it was frustrating given the fact I was in Antarctica with very little outside contact.  The compound was large, but not overwhelmingly so.  It was full of skylights and I remember, several times, feeling as though going outside this compound would mean going to a place where there wasn’t enough air.  I knew I was there for the summer and there wouldn’t be there very long because I had no real purpose there.   Also, I’d want to go soon as it stopped being light all the time because it felt as though it would become more difficult to breathe, once everything got dark.  I had conversations with the scientists there while waiting in the bathroom line.  Similar to Alaska, the men greatly outnumbered the women.  So we were in these bathroom lines with lots of male scientists who were friendly but very busy at the same time.  The stairs and walkways to the actual stalls resembles something like a trailer on a film set.  There were only a couple of stalls for women, several rows of stalls for men.  That made sense, given the demographic of the compound.  The toilets themselves had some special way to flush.  Think it had something to do with how the Coriolis effect functioned at the Geomagnetic South.  But it was worth the wait in line and the discomfort of using a toilet with a strange flush (I think what made it strange was the fact that the water didn’t swirl, suction pulled it straight down) because waiting in line was the best time to talk to the scientists.  I remember wishing I had more of a purpose there than I actually did.  At the end of the dream, I went back before the beginning.  Before everyone left for this compound in Antarctica.  There was a science lecture going on.  Something was going on during the power point lecture that shouldn’t be going on.  In the hallway, maybe.  Something nefarious.  A metal door or metal table, maybe.  A crime, of some sort, was being committed by scientists.  I’m overhearing it and know there’s something amiss but can’t figure out who or why.  Then, I’m escaping on a charter plane, southbound…