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?
Sunday, May 2, 2010
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.
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