I've neglected this blog just as I knew I would. But lately, I've been having questionably disturbing dreams, at least for me.
For the past two nights, I've had recurring dream imagery: a drowning vehicle.
The first night, it was a man driving a truck who thought he could either make it on this bridge that was in the process of being built right over the water and went to the left-hand side too far; ended up nose-diving in and sinking, thinking there was a roadway there, I suppose. I freaked out (in-dream), wondering if there was any way he could be saved or if he even knew what he was doing, or if I had literally just watched this man accidentally kill himself. After the truck was completely out of sight, out of no where, a few men with ropes attached to the bumper (how did they get them attached?) began pulling the truck back out and to safety.
Last night (and arguably the less disturbing part of the whole dream), I turned around as a flight of stairs and floor of a building was flooding to see my car begin to float (again, how did it even get there?). I knew I couldn't do anything about it and had to keep moving to get out of the building quickly.
--
In the first dream, I had gone out to that "bridge" (with Jordan, my fiancee) because I was under the impression that it was something I could easily walk across (there was more dream before this that I can't remember at all now). I thought I'd be able to drive across it, observe the work going on, look out at the water. I found out quickly I had been wrong when I came to an abrupt stop in front of some tan-skinned men working mere centimeters above the top of the water. The "bridge" was in the process of being built, and had the consistency of flexible styrofoam. We could barely walk on it and felt awkward since we didn't know what to do other than drop to our knees and watch the men work. We couldn't walk on any further past them (at least not without concern for our safety). I don't know what happened to our vehicle. That's when the above incident happened with the truck. Afterwards, we walked back to the land to a tiny shack that seemed to be barely holding together. We were suddenly being chased by a rabid raccoon, and it was hard to keep its nasty teeth off of our arms. We did our best to get out of that tiny shack, but it seemed almost futile. We grappled with the coon as we lunged for a window (or small door?) with no pane. We turned around and saw the huge face of a grizzly bear. Our instincts were to run, even though we'd always heard to play dead. We found our vehicle parked in front of the shed.
I suppose I woke up.
--
The second dream is so long and involved and confusing that I'm not positive I can type it out.
I don't remember this part very well, but I had been forced to fight my way through a terrifying labyrinth. There were tight rooms with loud, grinding machinery that would do horrible things to my skin if I got close to their gnashing gears and blades. All the rooms were dark, and many had dead ends with the exit not readily obvious. It took me an excruciatingly long time to figure out the location of one of the final doors, which was trimmed in sky blue, was automated in some weird way, and had gears on it like the machinery room.
The next thing I remember is walking through a large open room with columns and gold and red patterned carpet. I was not exactly of "high status" or well-liked. Somehow, though, I gained some sort of entree, and ended up in a small room with our current First Lady and the President with another girl. Mrs. Obama was very nice to me, and even though Mr. President was a little distracted, he was humorous and kind. She gave me a few pieces of paper with typed words on them that outlined the duties of the President as though she were trying to make me understand how difficult it was for him. I looked down at the words and could feel/see their depth in the paper, immediately understanding that there were things about his position that I just didn't know before. I felt such a communion with everyone in the room, like I wanted to keep the moment forever. Suddenly the words in the paper "punched out," like they were actual cut-outs. I worried that I would lose them and that no one would believe I had been there in that moment. The President and First Lady had to go, they were needed on stage and were actually running extremely late. He would end up having to run to get there. The other girl and I followed them out, feeling like privileged rockstars. We could hear his name being announced over the speakers, "And now, the President of the United States!.....The President of the United States...!"
Suddenly there was a rumbling in the foundation of the building and I was lost in a frenzied crowd. Something bad was happening and we all needed to get out. I got in the elevator to go down, but it wasn't working. The doors were closing and shutting way too quickly, threatening to halve anyone who stepped back through. I didn't want to do it. Someone I was with couldn't take it any more, and tried to time it. She didn't make it and was killed right in front of me. Keep in mind, the rumblings are still going and are more intense, knocking people off-balance. There was another automated exit across a walkway in front of the elevator. One door came down while the other behind it slammed open and closed. I remembered from my dream memory that someone had tried to go through it before all this happened and got knocked in the head from the inside door's normal swing open and shut, so I was legitimately hesitant. Before I could make up my mind, someone runs through it, gets knocked so hard in the head (because these doors are slamming harder and faster than before) they are unconscious (and possibly dead). Three people get caught under the door coming down, and while one makes it out, two people (who are lovers) get killed by being smashed underneath.
I decide there's no way I'm going to go through all this automated B.S. and remember seeing someone take the stairs (either before this happened or after, not sure). I run as fast as I can down flight after flight (we're on the top floor). For some reason, I already know that one of the floors has had a water main bust on it and has no electricity. I either have to stop on that floor and just do. It also happens to be the floor with the labyrinth on it. There are men in coveralls and vests trying to get things fixed so that the water will stop gushing everywhere. When I step into the water (the depth is questionable, but it's not over my head) and turn back, that's when I see my car. It's hard for me to remember whether I was momentarily in the car or not, dreams are weird.
I know from my time in the labyrinth before that the blue-trimmed door is the only way to get into the area, but I'm worried it won't open since before it was automated. It does anyway. I'm oddly amused by how weird the labyrinth looks "turned off" - it's just weird, damp rooms. I come to the machinery room again, and although it's turned off at first, a man in there is slowly getting things turned back on. It becomes a problem since I don't know how to judge my distance from everything, and I worry that I'm going to get hurt.
The way I get from this room to the outside is pretty foggy, but eventually I'm in my car and I suddenly notice I have the ability to take a road that merges onto an interstate. I gun it, unsure of whether any cars are coming, and am crying and shaking from what I have just gone through.
I wake up in a daze, unsure of my surroundings or how I got there.
I will say that there was an even WORSE aspect to this dream. At some point, I recognized that whatever was happening to the building we were in was reoccuring. That we would try our best to get out, and then suddenly we would time travel or something, and be back at the beginning right before it happened to rewitness the entire horrible thing again. At one point, I made a friend (possibly the girl from the room with the President and First Lady) and we pack a backpack with what we feel like will be the essentials in a public bathroom right before it's fixing to happen (again). All I can really remember is a flashlight, because I keep playing with it since, of course, it doesn't really act like a normal flashlight. We use the bathroom and I drop my phone in the toilet. I'm afraid it won't work, as I proceed to messily pee (am I not sitting on the seat??). I think I drop my phone AGAIN half in the urine. We get ready to face whatever is fixing to happen.
That's the only snapshot I have of it, so perhaps it happens after I get out on the road or even after I fall back asleep? I do thing I dreamt about parts of it on and off all night long.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Unnecessarily
For two nights now my dreams have held loaded moral lessons. The dream I just had, I'm not going to explain it as fully as I usually do because it involves too many personal aspects, but I can talk about certain points and its overall significance.
At a much earlier point in the dream, I am trying to show off a bit to my mom and one of her old friends (who had just happened to drop in). A cat follows me down the stairs and into the streets outside, but I figure she will be fine because there are other cats out there (though I'm still worried; I don't stop her because I feel like I can't). There are round, squishy fruits on the city sidewalk (which kind of fades away to a country house front with other thatched and slightly primitive houses as neighbors when suddenly I remember that she lives there and not in the city - neither of these situations is real life, by the way) and my trick is to balance on them. I had already tried when no one was really looking and the fruit squished out of shape and I fell a little. I reshaped the fruit into a perfect sphere while waiting for my "audience," and then mounted it again. It broke in half, revealing the fruit inside (which reminds me of an orange, but I believe the outside was green). They hadn't been paying that much attention anyway.
Later, the dream begins to reflect the last I had (the one I posted) much more clearly. I get a call from someone who is being unnecessarily bitchy to someone I am with in a car just because he forgot to stop by and feed someone else's dog earlier in the day. It doesn't satisfy that we are right there in the neighborhood and it would be nothing to stop by then, it is enough to rail him because one, he forgot, and two, he didn't do it at a specific time.
Sitting in the backseat I think about this, and while I'm really annoyed that I'm the one who has to listen to this on the phone and that she's this upset, I start to see her deeper point. He wasn't responsible enough to write a note to remind himself even though he's forgetful. He clearly didn't listen to her.
[Somewhere in this timeframe, "Jordan" (it's one of those times where he's in someone else's body; I might have been, too, but I never saw myself) and I have made a malatov cocktail. For some reason, the top of it has to be lit a little before it is lit properly. So the top of this little canister (which looks like the short red things we use to store linseed oil in the studio) is glowing frighteningly red, and I'm terrified it's going to reach the liquid and explode. Jordan at first has it held precariously next to a closed window, fixing to light it for real, and throw it outside at random, but he never does, so I'm stuck holding a glowing malatov cocktail.]
Now I become unnecessarily bitchy (and not because of the m.c., although I get to use it for verbal ammo). Jordan keeps taking it, but I am giving him and everyone else thorough hell like never before. We walk into some little studio (it looks like a kindergarten classroom for adults) that is teaching art classes. After a few people almost hit me with their glue guns, a guy sneeringly asks that I warn the person working when I'm looking so they don't hit me, and I coolly and easily respond, "Nah, that's okay, I'm not that interested in looking at this stuff," as though I'm so important. I've also apparently been given a tour here before which is readily available to my dream memory (and verifiable by a computer that keeps screwing up), so when the head guy (who is Rainn Wilson - no, I'm not kidding) continues to try to explain things to me with exasperation, I continue to cut him off with some snide comment about how I already know it and have heard it and really don't care since it's a crappy place anyway. I turn away from him and someone else tells me I should be nicer to him and I either think or say, "It's okay, it's Dwight Schrute," despite knowing he's not really that at the moment.
At this time, Jordan and a little kid who has been with us come in from outside a little frazzled and blackened. I don't know if they tell me, or the voice in my head tells me, or if someone else tells me, but they tried to diffuse the malatov cocktail like I sent them to do (it was making me nervous walking around holding it) and it blew up, like I had the feeling it would do. Instead of being happy they were alive and mostly okay with all their limbs, I start bitching.
This story ends with Jordan finally having enough and breaking it off with me. I take off my ring and find him hidden behind a table, and give it to him, taking his place behind the table looking out from behind some oddly placed curtains. Before I wake up and as I look at him, I think about how bitchy I was, and how I shouldn't have gotten caught up in ridiculous expectations. I want him back, but I'm afraid it would never change and that he'll never take me back anyway.
Coincidentally, I actually woke up to the fire alarm, which was pretty funny seeing as to how a malatov cocktail had just accidentally blown up in my dream.
So I actually told way more than I intended, but then again I'm known to get caught up in gratuitous details. I wonder if it's clear to you how these two dreams are linked, and it makes me curious as to whether or not tonight will bring another of these dreams. It's certainly not the first time I've had a series of moral dreams all pertaining to the same theme.
I understand them, appropriately since they're dreams, in a way I can't really begin to explain. All I can say for you is, if you have even read this far, don't be so harsh on those you love the most. You'll find yourself loving you more than them, using them as a scapegoat, and even believing that they're doing most of the negative things, when really, your expectations are ungodly (or rather, too godly and untouchable). RuPaul might say, "If you can't love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?" but if you never take the time out of loving yourself to love that other person, how are you going to keep them, make them feel loved or even be happy at all?
At a much earlier point in the dream, I am trying to show off a bit to my mom and one of her old friends (who had just happened to drop in). A cat follows me down the stairs and into the streets outside, but I figure she will be fine because there are other cats out there (though I'm still worried; I don't stop her because I feel like I can't). There are round, squishy fruits on the city sidewalk (which kind of fades away to a country house front with other thatched and slightly primitive houses as neighbors when suddenly I remember that she lives there and not in the city - neither of these situations is real life, by the way) and my trick is to balance on them. I had already tried when no one was really looking and the fruit squished out of shape and I fell a little. I reshaped the fruit into a perfect sphere while waiting for my "audience," and then mounted it again. It broke in half, revealing the fruit inside (which reminds me of an orange, but I believe the outside was green). They hadn't been paying that much attention anyway.
Later, the dream begins to reflect the last I had (the one I posted) much more clearly. I get a call from someone who is being unnecessarily bitchy to someone I am with in a car just because he forgot to stop by and feed someone else's dog earlier in the day. It doesn't satisfy that we are right there in the neighborhood and it would be nothing to stop by then, it is enough to rail him because one, he forgot, and two, he didn't do it at a specific time.
Sitting in the backseat I think about this, and while I'm really annoyed that I'm the one who has to listen to this on the phone and that she's this upset, I start to see her deeper point. He wasn't responsible enough to write a note to remind himself even though he's forgetful. He clearly didn't listen to her.
[Somewhere in this timeframe, "Jordan" (it's one of those times where he's in someone else's body; I might have been, too, but I never saw myself) and I have made a malatov cocktail. For some reason, the top of it has to be lit a little before it is lit properly. So the top of this little canister (which looks like the short red things we use to store linseed oil in the studio) is glowing frighteningly red, and I'm terrified it's going to reach the liquid and explode. Jordan at first has it held precariously next to a closed window, fixing to light it for real, and throw it outside at random, but he never does, so I'm stuck holding a glowing malatov cocktail.]
Now I become unnecessarily bitchy (and not because of the m.c., although I get to use it for verbal ammo). Jordan keeps taking it, but I am giving him and everyone else thorough hell like never before. We walk into some little studio (it looks like a kindergarten classroom for adults) that is teaching art classes. After a few people almost hit me with their glue guns, a guy sneeringly asks that I warn the person working when I'm looking so they don't hit me, and I coolly and easily respond, "Nah, that's okay, I'm not that interested in looking at this stuff," as though I'm so important. I've also apparently been given a tour here before which is readily available to my dream memory (and verifiable by a computer that keeps screwing up), so when the head guy (who is Rainn Wilson - no, I'm not kidding) continues to try to explain things to me with exasperation, I continue to cut him off with some snide comment about how I already know it and have heard it and really don't care since it's a crappy place anyway. I turn away from him and someone else tells me I should be nicer to him and I either think or say, "It's okay, it's Dwight Schrute," despite knowing he's not really that at the moment.
At this time, Jordan and a little kid who has been with us come in from outside a little frazzled and blackened. I don't know if they tell me, or the voice in my head tells me, or if someone else tells me, but they tried to diffuse the malatov cocktail like I sent them to do (it was making me nervous walking around holding it) and it blew up, like I had the feeling it would do. Instead of being happy they were alive and mostly okay with all their limbs, I start bitching.
This story ends with Jordan finally having enough and breaking it off with me. I take off my ring and find him hidden behind a table, and give it to him, taking his place behind the table looking out from behind some oddly placed curtains. Before I wake up and as I look at him, I think about how bitchy I was, and how I shouldn't have gotten caught up in ridiculous expectations. I want him back, but I'm afraid it would never change and that he'll never take me back anyway.
Coincidentally, I actually woke up to the fire alarm, which was pretty funny seeing as to how a malatov cocktail had just accidentally blown up in my dream.
So I actually told way more than I intended, but then again I'm known to get caught up in gratuitous details. I wonder if it's clear to you how these two dreams are linked, and it makes me curious as to whether or not tonight will bring another of these dreams. It's certainly not the first time I've had a series of moral dreams all pertaining to the same theme.
I understand them, appropriately since they're dreams, in a way I can't really begin to explain. All I can say for you is, if you have even read this far, don't be so harsh on those you love the most. You'll find yourself loving you more than them, using them as a scapegoat, and even believing that they're doing most of the negative things, when really, your expectations are ungodly (or rather, too godly and untouchable). RuPaul might say, "If you can't love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?" but if you never take the time out of loving yourself to love that other person, how are you going to keep them, make them feel loved or even be happy at all?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Premeditated Gasoline Explosion
[There was dream before this scene.]
Top Down and Side Perspective (alternates like a movie)
Prior to this concluding scene, there was a lot of snapshot scenes and scenes that would be long and hard to describe. Basically, all of that lead up to the mass action of this final scene.
Jordan, my fiancee, lead this action. He was caught up in this weird deal and chasing something from his past that was almost in his imagination (like I said, it would have been hard to describe - pretty sure it was the personification of greed and/or selfishness). As he ran outside from the building he was in, chasing someone/something with a gun I believe, something suddenly clicked. He realized what a terrible life he had been living, and how he could have made better choices that would have made life happier for the people he loved the most.
This idea quickly filtered through the collective consciousness of all who were standing around. There were gas pumps right outside (exactly like a gas station, although the building hadn't been a pay center or convenient store), so he began pouring gasoline on the ground, letting it trickle towards the entrance of a tunnel off to the righthand side.
People were very scared, but also knew that it had to be done. They were going to let themselves be blown up this way to balance out what they had caused to their loved ones throughout their lives.
One man (who was alternatively Jack Black and Kenan Thompson) killed his precious little dog by either not paying enough attention and letting it jump out the window on the highway, as the dog was anxious since he never took it on walks. Before he died, he imagined his life differently: as he made sure to roll up the windows, he apologized for that and for not being able to find a good place to walk him. Yet at that moment, he suddenly found a beautiful green park, and got excited as he told the dog about it and what they now got to do.
Other people had the same type of stories, only they had neglected the ones they loved, been too greedy or too involved in their own affairs. An air of reprieve and anxious energy began to settle down as the people took their place next to the pumps. Jordan was practically preaching, giving a passionate speech about life and what was fixing to happen.
I was running. I first ran up on a small hill not too far from the pumps, watching the scene. I knew the explosion would still get me there, but I was unsure. Then, in a moment of terror, I ran into the tunnel and kept running until I came out of it on the other side (can't remember what was there). I listened for a moment, figuring that it would have happened while I was running. But when I noticed that it hadn't, I began to run back.
I came back to the mouth of the tunnel, facing the scene, and decided to stay there. If the explosion got to me, it got to me, I would go up with everyone else. Jordan jammed what looked like a stubbier AK-47 of some sort into a gas pump (I know they don't actually work this way, it's a dream, c'mon), and clicked it. A few moments later, all I can see is my shocked, breathtaken face as the pumps erupts and flames shoot out to only a few feet from where I'm standing.
[I must have been waking up (probably because of the "trauma") because the dreams starts to become more thought-like and less visionary.]
I know somehow that only Valerie and I survived. I don't know if I have an actual conversation with her, or if I just "know," but she was also standing at a tunnel that was apparently opposite mine. I think that this is apparently the way to survive huge gasoline explosions.
There's also this weird thought-scene where I am someone watching this "movie" and I am crying, feeling the sadness and impact of the scene, not knowing why in the hell I wanted to watch something so terrible. I (as this person) am on my way to rate it on something like Netflix, I think.
The scenes are hazy and barely there. It changes to me in a living room, wallering on a couch, contemplating Jordan's life and how ours together ended far too quickly. I think about how I had made jokes about never getting to do this or that again, but realize that I don't want to find a new love interest and don't even know how to go about it appropriately. The heartbreak is pure and real, and I can't comprehend how his life with me has been cut so short. There are so many tears and so much sadness that it's one of those times that it carries over to when I wake up, which always creates a weird dichotomy in dissociating the two realities.
Top Down and Side Perspective (alternates like a movie)
Prior to this concluding scene, there was a lot of snapshot scenes and scenes that would be long and hard to describe. Basically, all of that lead up to the mass action of this final scene.
Jordan, my fiancee, lead this action. He was caught up in this weird deal and chasing something from his past that was almost in his imagination (like I said, it would have been hard to describe - pretty sure it was the personification of greed and/or selfishness). As he ran outside from the building he was in, chasing someone/something with a gun I believe, something suddenly clicked. He realized what a terrible life he had been living, and how he could have made better choices that would have made life happier for the people he loved the most.
This idea quickly filtered through the collective consciousness of all who were standing around. There were gas pumps right outside (exactly like a gas station, although the building hadn't been a pay center or convenient store), so he began pouring gasoline on the ground, letting it trickle towards the entrance of a tunnel off to the righthand side.
People were very scared, but also knew that it had to be done. They were going to let themselves be blown up this way to balance out what they had caused to their loved ones throughout their lives.
One man (who was alternatively Jack Black and Kenan Thompson) killed his precious little dog by either not paying enough attention and letting it jump out the window on the highway, as the dog was anxious since he never took it on walks. Before he died, he imagined his life differently: as he made sure to roll up the windows, he apologized for that and for not being able to find a good place to walk him. Yet at that moment, he suddenly found a beautiful green park, and got excited as he told the dog about it and what they now got to do.
Other people had the same type of stories, only they had neglected the ones they loved, been too greedy or too involved in their own affairs. An air of reprieve and anxious energy began to settle down as the people took their place next to the pumps. Jordan was practically preaching, giving a passionate speech about life and what was fixing to happen.
I was running. I first ran up on a small hill not too far from the pumps, watching the scene. I knew the explosion would still get me there, but I was unsure. Then, in a moment of terror, I ran into the tunnel and kept running until I came out of it on the other side (can't remember what was there). I listened for a moment, figuring that it would have happened while I was running. But when I noticed that it hadn't, I began to run back.
I came back to the mouth of the tunnel, facing the scene, and decided to stay there. If the explosion got to me, it got to me, I would go up with everyone else. Jordan jammed what looked like a stubbier AK-47 of some sort into a gas pump (I know they don't actually work this way, it's a dream, c'mon), and clicked it. A few moments later, all I can see is my shocked, breathtaken face as the pumps erupts and flames shoot out to only a few feet from where I'm standing.
[I must have been waking up (probably because of the "trauma") because the dreams starts to become more thought-like and less visionary.]
I know somehow that only Valerie and I survived. I don't know if I have an actual conversation with her, or if I just "know," but she was also standing at a tunnel that was apparently opposite mine. I think that this is apparently the way to survive huge gasoline explosions.
There's also this weird thought-scene where I am someone watching this "movie" and I am crying, feeling the sadness and impact of the scene, not knowing why in the hell I wanted to watch something so terrible. I (as this person) am on my way to rate it on something like Netflix, I think.
The scenes are hazy and barely there. It changes to me in a living room, wallering on a couch, contemplating Jordan's life and how ours together ended far too quickly. I think about how I had made jokes about never getting to do this or that again, but realize that I don't want to find a new love interest and don't even know how to go about it appropriately. The heartbreak is pure and real, and I can't comprehend how his life with me has been cut so short. There are so many tears and so much sadness that it's one of those times that it carries over to when I wake up, which always creates a weird dichotomy in dissociating the two realities.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Pineapple Juice!
First-Person Perspective
I was in a studio at the back of someone's house. It was very cramped and messy (as most artist's studios probably are), and looked like a room with a different purpose that had been turned into a studio. It seems like the back wall was completely open to the world, but I might be wrong. There were people everywhere, doing their own stuff. The thing on which I was painting my large board was very odd and unlike any easel I have ever seen before. It was kind of like a projection screen mounted on a TV with some other little things. That doesn't really make sense, but neither does what I saw.
I was painting a guy against a kitchen landscape with a giant metal orb in front of the guy. I was having serious trouble figuring out how to paint it, both in general and with the color palette. My professor, who I'm pretty sure was supposed to be Sheldon, walked over and began to comment on it. I think other people might have joined in. I hated the bright, almost psychedelic colors that were on the cabinets (like, bright green and yellow, and maybe even pink??). I wasn't sure about anything, really. But when I walked away and looked at it in some sort of reflection, I realized that the orb was there and noticed how well it was painted which made me feel better.
[Lapse of Time]
I'm outside walking with someone (can't remember who and am not even sure about gender). We have just gone to the store, or were trying to go to the store, and are coming back. The neighborhood doesn't really look like anything I've ever seen before, and I don't know if I can even describe it. Like most things, I suppose it's an amalgamation of about five different places at least. As we turn the corner to a sort of street-driveway to this huge mansion we've been staying in (and where the studio is located), it begins to snow. We get worried and wonder if we need to head back to wherever we're from, especially as it starts to get heavy. In a matter of seconds, the ground is covered. Up ahead, the foyer skylight to the mansion suddenly sparks pinkish (not a normal spark; more like one of those electric balls you put your hand on and the electricity attracts to you) and collapses. It continues to crash as we watch on horrified. It sparks pinkish one last time, and then it is over. The butler (I guess?) and a few others are staring at the glass covering the ground and wondering what to do about it. I'm beginning to realize that we're not going to be able to leave. I try my best to walk through the glass, but mid-step I lose all intentions and just step any where. I pick pieces of glass out of my sock (why was I walking in socks??) and try to brush off the tinier unseen pieces as they prick at my hand.
The butler wants to accommodate me, even though I really just want to get back in the studio (soon I forget about all of that). He gets orders from his master (who I have an image of as being Batman-Bruce Wayne, haha) to take me somewhere. I get in his truck and he takes me past several houses I had seen on my walk but hadn't noticed (and now realize they all belong to BW-BM). He stops off to the side of a modest building in a dirt/gravel parking lot. There are workers in the field in front of us. As I get out, I realize that this is one of the most lavish houses BW-BM owns (minus the mansion) even though on the outside it looks like an abandoned store. Inside are hundreds of dolls and mannequins, and it is decorated in gold.
I am admittedly freaked out by staying with thousands of dolls staring at me all the time, but try to hide it and make myself feel better by making small talk about how someone I know stayed here just a little while ago. He hands me some folded fifty bills that are so new they're still stuck together, telling me to treat myself for the next bit. We enter and it suddenly looks totally different than it did on the outside. There are two extremely proper and high class women sitting at a table in the center of the living room (it now looks like a trailer; the carpets are blue-green and the walls are wood panel). I take a seat, unsure about everything I'm doing. The butler has handed me a cheat sheet book at some point earlier, telling me what to order and where, but I can't look at it if I want to make a good impression. (Also, apparently master BW-BM's wife has died at some point, and so he has dishes named after her that were her favorite, and those are the things I'm supposed to order when I go places.) The waiter is already asking for our drink orders as we're sitting down; I freeze and make the conscious decision to not order soda since I feel like it might seem vulgar, so the only thing that comes to mind is pineapple juice. The ritzier lady, probably trying to make me feel better but only succeeding in making me feel small, says, "Pineapple juice! Well, waiter, I think I'll have pineapple juice as well."
I don't remember ordering, but I do remember that after I got a peek at the cheat book that it wasn't the right thing and feeling apologetic. The entire dinner was tense, repeating what had just happened.
I was in a studio at the back of someone's house. It was very cramped and messy (as most artist's studios probably are), and looked like a room with a different purpose that had been turned into a studio. It seems like the back wall was completely open to the world, but I might be wrong. There were people everywhere, doing their own stuff. The thing on which I was painting my large board was very odd and unlike any easel I have ever seen before. It was kind of like a projection screen mounted on a TV with some other little things. That doesn't really make sense, but neither does what I saw.
I was painting a guy against a kitchen landscape with a giant metal orb in front of the guy. I was having serious trouble figuring out how to paint it, both in general and with the color palette. My professor, who I'm pretty sure was supposed to be Sheldon, walked over and began to comment on it. I think other people might have joined in. I hated the bright, almost psychedelic colors that were on the cabinets (like, bright green and yellow, and maybe even pink??). I wasn't sure about anything, really. But when I walked away and looked at it in some sort of reflection, I realized that the orb was there and noticed how well it was painted which made me feel better.
[Lapse of Time]
I'm outside walking with someone (can't remember who and am not even sure about gender). We have just gone to the store, or were trying to go to the store, and are coming back. The neighborhood doesn't really look like anything I've ever seen before, and I don't know if I can even describe it. Like most things, I suppose it's an amalgamation of about five different places at least. As we turn the corner to a sort of street-driveway to this huge mansion we've been staying in (and where the studio is located), it begins to snow. We get worried and wonder if we need to head back to wherever we're from, especially as it starts to get heavy. In a matter of seconds, the ground is covered. Up ahead, the foyer skylight to the mansion suddenly sparks pinkish (not a normal spark; more like one of those electric balls you put your hand on and the electricity attracts to you) and collapses. It continues to crash as we watch on horrified. It sparks pinkish one last time, and then it is over. The butler (I guess?) and a few others are staring at the glass covering the ground and wondering what to do about it. I'm beginning to realize that we're not going to be able to leave. I try my best to walk through the glass, but mid-step I lose all intentions and just step any where. I pick pieces of glass out of my sock (why was I walking in socks??) and try to brush off the tinier unseen pieces as they prick at my hand.
The butler wants to accommodate me, even though I really just want to get back in the studio (soon I forget about all of that). He gets orders from his master (who I have an image of as being Batman-Bruce Wayne, haha) to take me somewhere. I get in his truck and he takes me past several houses I had seen on my walk but hadn't noticed (and now realize they all belong to BW-BM). He stops off to the side of a modest building in a dirt/gravel parking lot. There are workers in the field in front of us. As I get out, I realize that this is one of the most lavish houses BW-BM owns (minus the mansion) even though on the outside it looks like an abandoned store. Inside are hundreds of dolls and mannequins, and it is decorated in gold.
I am admittedly freaked out by staying with thousands of dolls staring at me all the time, but try to hide it and make myself feel better by making small talk about how someone I know stayed here just a little while ago. He hands me some folded fifty bills that are so new they're still stuck together, telling me to treat myself for the next bit. We enter and it suddenly looks totally different than it did on the outside. There are two extremely proper and high class women sitting at a table in the center of the living room (it now looks like a trailer; the carpets are blue-green and the walls are wood panel). I take a seat, unsure about everything I'm doing. The butler has handed me a cheat sheet book at some point earlier, telling me what to order and where, but I can't look at it if I want to make a good impression. (Also, apparently master BW-BM's wife has died at some point, and so he has dishes named after her that were her favorite, and those are the things I'm supposed to order when I go places.) The waiter is already asking for our drink orders as we're sitting down; I freeze and make the conscious decision to not order soda since I feel like it might seem vulgar, so the only thing that comes to mind is pineapple juice. The ritzier lady, probably trying to make me feel better but only succeeding in making me feel small, says, "Pineapple juice! Well, waiter, I think I'll have pineapple juice as well."
I don't remember ordering, but I do remember that after I got a peek at the cheat book that it wasn't the right thing and feeling apologetic. The entire dinner was tense, repeating what had just happened.
Crazy Owl-Bird
[There was dream before and after this scene.]
First-Person Perspective
I remembered more of this scene before I started typing it out, but now all I can remember is sitting on a front porch/deck sort of thing at what seemed to be a hotel (but not a normative one, of course) and an owl-like bird flying around scaring everyone. I decided to try and pick it up, and it worked. After that, it would easily jump up into my arms and allow me to scruffle it's feathers and hold it close.
There was a guy who got very aggravated by this, as he wanted to be able to do the same thing but was never able to get the owl to oblige. It would always just ignore him or freak him out, and then just allow me to take it.
[And then I dream on. Possibly to the dream I'm fixing to write about.]
First-Person Perspective
I remembered more of this scene before I started typing it out, but now all I can remember is sitting on a front porch/deck sort of thing at what seemed to be a hotel (but not a normative one, of course) and an owl-like bird flying around scaring everyone. I decided to try and pick it up, and it worked. After that, it would easily jump up into my arms and allow me to scruffle it's feathers and hold it close.
There was a guy who got very aggravated by this, as he wanted to be able to do the same thing but was never able to get the owl to oblige. It would always just ignore him or freak him out, and then just allow me to take it.
[And then I dream on. Possibly to the dream I'm fixing to write about.]
The Game
[There was dream before and after.]
First-Person Perspective
I am in a weird building, or at least in a maze or network of buildings. The walls are sky blue, but it is very dull and grey, and things look dirty and a bit rundown. I suppose it's like an arcade or game house, but not in any normative or proper sense.
At first, I find this place by myself. Then I am with other people, at least one or two, but I can't remember very well. The main guy I remember is very large and fat (freakishly), as though he should be playing the role of some guy who hacks people to bits in an ancient place. I go off by myself again, leaving the "at least two" people at a pinball machine in a darkened room.
I find a series of rooms that are on top of one another in floors, and each has some sort of special arcade game. There are also other games in the dark room (no lights at all, minus the glow of the screen and panels), but I don't even remember if they were lit up, as this game was the important one. I sit down in front of the game on a random floor (it wasn't the first), and look at the table to my left. There is a paper there with a bunch of boxes like a Jeopardy game, only it seems as though whoever was doing it has figured out the word - "DEFEND." I don't know if I even play the game, as it seems too hard and I already have the last thing needed in the game used (or found?) while fighting a terrible boss.
At this point I either report back to the guys or go to another floor. Either way, I do the latter. This floor (10, maybe?) seems to be more popular and less lucky. There are several papers lying on the table with random boxes filled out but none completing the word. Some of the letters are in the boxes above the one line, kind a like a crossword, and some are parts of the word ("_ _ F E _ D" or something). For a moment I wonder how in the world someone couldn't figure out the word from what they had, but then realize that I have a serious bias since I already know the word and never had to go through the process of figuring it out.
[And then I dream on. Possibly to the dreams I might be fixing to post.]
First-Person Perspective
I am in a weird building, or at least in a maze or network of buildings. The walls are sky blue, but it is very dull and grey, and things look dirty and a bit rundown. I suppose it's like an arcade or game house, but not in any normative or proper sense.
At first, I find this place by myself. Then I am with other people, at least one or two, but I can't remember very well. The main guy I remember is very large and fat (freakishly), as though he should be playing the role of some guy who hacks people to bits in an ancient place. I go off by myself again, leaving the "at least two" people at a pinball machine in a darkened room.
I find a series of rooms that are on top of one another in floors, and each has some sort of special arcade game. There are also other games in the dark room (no lights at all, minus the glow of the screen and panels), but I don't even remember if they were lit up, as this game was the important one. I sit down in front of the game on a random floor (it wasn't the first), and look at the table to my left. There is a paper there with a bunch of boxes like a Jeopardy game, only it seems as though whoever was doing it has figured out the word - "DEFEND." I don't know if I even play the game, as it seems too hard and I already have the last thing needed in the game used (or found?) while fighting a terrible boss.
At this point I either report back to the guys or go to another floor. Either way, I do the latter. This floor (10, maybe?) seems to be more popular and less lucky. There are several papers lying on the table with random boxes filled out but none completing the word. Some of the letters are in the boxes above the one line, kind a like a crossword, and some are parts of the word ("_ _ F E _ D" or something). For a moment I wonder how in the world someone couldn't figure out the word from what they had, but then realize that I have a serious bias since I already know the word and never had to go through the process of figuring it out.
[And then I dream on. Possibly to the dreams I might be fixing to post.]
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
It's Gonna Rain
[There was dream before this scene.]
Side Perspective
After walking around a Chinese trinket shop set up almost like a maze on a terraced muddy hillside, I decide to wait down at the foot of the store/hill. Remembering the scene, it looks like several places I have seen before including the strip mine site on the mountain in Middlesboro where I used to go 4-wheeling and the trailer park I used to live in. Looking up at the "shop," everything is dirty/mud, no grass. There might be some sparse trees off to the left. Above is a sky, and I feel like it was a nice robin's egg blue. To my back is a little grove of trees, and I am leaning against a hill that has grass on it (though not abundantly).
A group of people (two, maybe three) walk up to me, who I believe were all women. The one who spoke to me reminded me of Katie Wilder from high school. She (they) told me I needed to be careful (get inside, I guess?) because a very serious storm was coming. They lean up against the same dirt-grass hill and look out towards the shop (perspective, however, is towards our faces). They (or she?) keep talking and talking and talking about this storm and rain.
First-Person Perspective
I get nervous and start staring up at the sky. There is a huge cumulonimbus incus drifting across the sky all by itself very quickly. It's very grey and foreboding, and in a moment of seconds it has passed from the very right-hand side of my vision to the left.
As I stare at it though, it begins to turn into a teddy bear. It takes on a greenish hue, big black (or was it blue?) eyes, and a red tongue that sticks out in a curl. I try to get Katie's attention, but it doesn't work and I just get more desperate and more serious. "Do you see this thunderhead? Seriously, look at this! Have you see this, it looks like a teddy bear? There's a teddy bear in the sky! SERIOUSLY, I'm not joking here, LOOK at this CLOUD!"
By the time everyone turns around to look at the cloud, the "teddy bear" has kind of distorted and faded away. I feel like they've completely missed the point.
[And then I wake up.]
Side Perspective
After walking around a Chinese trinket shop set up almost like a maze on a terraced muddy hillside, I decide to wait down at the foot of the store/hill. Remembering the scene, it looks like several places I have seen before including the strip mine site on the mountain in Middlesboro where I used to go 4-wheeling and the trailer park I used to live in. Looking up at the "shop," everything is dirty/mud, no grass. There might be some sparse trees off to the left. Above is a sky, and I feel like it was a nice robin's egg blue. To my back is a little grove of trees, and I am leaning against a hill that has grass on it (though not abundantly).
A group of people (two, maybe three) walk up to me, who I believe were all women. The one who spoke to me reminded me of Katie Wilder from high school. She (they) told me I needed to be careful (get inside, I guess?) because a very serious storm was coming. They lean up against the same dirt-grass hill and look out towards the shop (perspective, however, is towards our faces). They (or she?) keep talking and talking and talking about this storm and rain.
First-Person Perspective
I get nervous and start staring up at the sky. There is a huge cumulonimbus incus drifting across the sky all by itself very quickly. It's very grey and foreboding, and in a moment of seconds it has passed from the very right-hand side of my vision to the left.
As I stare at it though, it begins to turn into a teddy bear. It takes on a greenish hue, big black (or was it blue?) eyes, and a red tongue that sticks out in a curl. I try to get Katie's attention, but it doesn't work and I just get more desperate and more serious. "Do you see this thunderhead? Seriously, look at this! Have you see this, it looks like a teddy bear? There's a teddy bear in the sky! SERIOUSLY, I'm not joking here, LOOK at this CLOUD!"
By the time everyone turns around to look at the cloud, the "teddy bear" has kind of distorted and faded away. I feel like they've completely missed the point.
[And then I wake up.]
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