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.
Friday, April 30, 2010
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.]
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Day for Dying, or at the Least, for Stomach Acid
[There was dream before and after this scene.]
First-Person Perspective
I am driving some sort of vehicle, and my passengers are siblings. We are coming down a road that I've never seen before; it's like a dirt or gravel driveway, but the building is far up on a hill. There are trees to the left, and a small grassy patch of land to the right which ends in high weeds. As I ascend a hill that will go out onto the road, I feel a bit like I am losing control (I might have almost hit the vehicle in front of me) but quickly regain it. I don't remember if I say it aloud, but either way, I think/say that today could end badly for us. As I reached out for the oversized dial on the radio, it just seemed to be the right mood for death, maybe like scenes in so many movies. The sun was shining, but it was too yellow. All of us were together, and would be leaving my mother alone if we died. We weren't doing anything special, but rather an errand or something of that nature, so it would be spontaneous. The feeling was like something cold and nervous that settles into the bottom of one's self after pushing away the brunt of the original anxiety.
Suddenly, I think that I have wrecked, but instead the vehicle in front has just lost some sort of container (like a very large plastic drum) with liquid in it, and it has slammed into my windshield. I begin to reverse too fast, with the passenger (who I believe is my older stepsister, Britney) checking in the rearview mirrors to make sure nothing is behind me. I don't recall actually looking behind me to see if anything was back there, as I felt there was nothing and just went. I reverse back down the hill (which now looks extremely steep), and end up in the grassy area. I might have turned myself all the way around in a circle (I was working very hard to keep the vehicle under control), and then after almost coming to a good stop, reverse up an even steeper hill into the air so that we are all now pointing straight down at the ground. I apologize to everyone ("Sorry guys") as I brace myself for the landing, which actually ends up being smooth (but terrifying, because we're falling straight down).
Split Perspective
We are all out of our vehicle. As the man in the vehicle in front of me picks up the container and throws it in the back of his truck, it looks like he is going to drive away. I am seconds away from cursing him when he stops the truck a few feet in front of our vehicle and gets out. I don't remember much about what he looks like, except that I think he might have been wearing a grimy white tank top and was actually rather grimy looking himself. Maybe he had dirty glasses and greasy hair? Or maybe bald? Anyway, after talking for a little bit (I don't remember the words), we give each other a hug. I think I have to pull away forcefully. He says something about stomach acid in reference to himself and asks for another embrace, but I tell him I can feel the acid on me after the last hug. It was bitter in my mouth, pungent in my nose, and burning on my skin. I am suddenly confused about whether it is his actual skin that is so acidic, or if its the liquid in the container that has somehow spilled all over him.
I turn my attention to my mom. This is where it gets hazy and the transition to the parts I remember later gets muddled. I think she is arguing with my younger stepsister, Alisha; Alisha does not want to come with me anywhere and would rather go back to the house, but my mom is telling her she has to do what she's told.
First-Person Perspective
I am driving some sort of vehicle, and my passengers are siblings. We are coming down a road that I've never seen before; it's like a dirt or gravel driveway, but the building is far up on a hill. There are trees to the left, and a small grassy patch of land to the right which ends in high weeds. As I ascend a hill that will go out onto the road, I feel a bit like I am losing control (I might have almost hit the vehicle in front of me) but quickly regain it. I don't remember if I say it aloud, but either way, I think/say that today could end badly for us. As I reached out for the oversized dial on the radio, it just seemed to be the right mood for death, maybe like scenes in so many movies. The sun was shining, but it was too yellow. All of us were together, and would be leaving my mother alone if we died. We weren't doing anything special, but rather an errand or something of that nature, so it would be spontaneous. The feeling was like something cold and nervous that settles into the bottom of one's self after pushing away the brunt of the original anxiety.
Suddenly, I think that I have wrecked, but instead the vehicle in front has just lost some sort of container (like a very large plastic drum) with liquid in it, and it has slammed into my windshield. I begin to reverse too fast, with the passenger (who I believe is my older stepsister, Britney) checking in the rearview mirrors to make sure nothing is behind me. I don't recall actually looking behind me to see if anything was back there, as I felt there was nothing and just went. I reverse back down the hill (which now looks extremely steep), and end up in the grassy area. I might have turned myself all the way around in a circle (I was working very hard to keep the vehicle under control), and then after almost coming to a good stop, reverse up an even steeper hill into the air so that we are all now pointing straight down at the ground. I apologize to everyone ("Sorry guys") as I brace myself for the landing, which actually ends up being smooth (but terrifying, because we're falling straight down).
Split Perspective
We are all out of our vehicle. As the man in the vehicle in front of me picks up the container and throws it in the back of his truck, it looks like he is going to drive away. I am seconds away from cursing him when he stops the truck a few feet in front of our vehicle and gets out. I don't remember much about what he looks like, except that I think he might have been wearing a grimy white tank top and was actually rather grimy looking himself. Maybe he had dirty glasses and greasy hair? Or maybe bald? Anyway, after talking for a little bit (I don't remember the words), we give each other a hug. I think I have to pull away forcefully. He says something about stomach acid in reference to himself and asks for another embrace, but I tell him I can feel the acid on me after the last hug. It was bitter in my mouth, pungent in my nose, and burning on my skin. I am suddenly confused about whether it is his actual skin that is so acidic, or if its the liquid in the container that has somehow spilled all over him.
I turn my attention to my mom. This is where it gets hazy and the transition to the parts I remember later gets muddled. I think she is arguing with my younger stepsister, Alisha; Alisha does not want to come with me anywhere and would rather go back to the house, but my mom is telling her she has to do what she's told.
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