1) I am with a female friend. We are shopping in the clearance section of a clothing store. I try on a pair of overall shorts and they fit perfectly, except my butt is pretty much hanging out of them Britney Spears-style so I put them back on the rack. We somehow (and this part is extremely glossed over) manage to create clones of ourselves. (Mine resembles the adult version of Dren from Splice). I try to teach mine to speak and she learns a bit, but not nearly enough to go out and socialize in public. She is often a bit stubborn and immature. We share a bed, and one night when I try to climb in she is taking up the entire bed and refuses to move. I begin to become slightly uncomfortable with the whole thing and consider my options of getting rid of her, but know that it wouldn't be right. One day I realize I haven't seen my friend's clone in a while and ask whatever became of her. I get a sketchy excuse and suspect something unsavory.
2) I call Dunkin' Donuts and attempt to place an order. They tell me they'll be closed in about fifteen minutes for a funeral, which I then realize I have to attend. It is for a girl my age. As I enter, I notice that the tub of water for baptisms is awfully cloudy and murky. I sit down and pull out a bag of sour gummi worms and begin eating them as the service progresses, while wondering if it's a rude thing to do. I then notice a young boy who is eating sunflower seeds and feel a bit better. The brother of the deceased and his fiancee get up to perform a dance to (mourn the dead or celebrate their engagement, I'm not sure which). I notice the boy left his bag of sunflower seeds on the ground and they have spilled all over the aisle where the couple is dancing. As the dance becomes more intense, they end up rolling around in the seeds and making a huge mess. They soon don Transformers costumes and perform a choreographed dance "fight". It is really rather well done and exciting to watch, albeit not typical or necessarily appropriate funeral proceedings.
2) I am riding on a bus, except that I am actually laying face-down on a sort of gurney. A morbidly obese man sitting behind me unabashedly grabs at my ass. I turn around and tell him off and he claims it was "only a joke". I tell the busdriver what happened and he orders the man to leave.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Night Twenty: In Which I Encounter Evil Spirits and Use An iPad
(Note: I am experiencing this dream in the first person, and yet it is also not about me.)
1) My husband has been experimenting with invoking and creating various spirits and energies. He has been successful with those of animals and such, but has mistakenly created a beast-like spirit that he can't contain. He finally decides to scrap the project once and for all, doing away with this awful spirit. He asks me, for my own safety, to leave. We exchange a tearful goodbye and I go off and play with an iPad (since I obviously have nothing more important to do or worry about).
Next, I am in a room with a bunch of other people. The spirit has overtaken my husband and has also somehow affected loved ones of the people I'm with. One woman's husband is outside of the building and wishes to speak with her. She goes outside, despite our advice not to, and comes back acting dazed, robotic, and untrustworthy. It is obvious that she is somehow possessed. We realize we are in danger and flee from her, running through the night. At this time, fireworks begin to explode in the sky above us. I think to myself how it is strange to think of someone celebrating, lighting fireworks, while we are fighting for our lives. Finally, (and I am unclear as to how this happened), we are free from danger and decide to form a support group to help us deal with the trauma we've been through. The dream ends with all of us sitting on a blanket outside and watching the fireworks, although there is an air of sinisterity about the whole thing.
1) My husband has been experimenting with invoking and creating various spirits and energies. He has been successful with those of animals and such, but has mistakenly created a beast-like spirit that he can't contain. He finally decides to scrap the project once and for all, doing away with this awful spirit. He asks me, for my own safety, to leave. We exchange a tearful goodbye and I go off and play with an iPad (since I obviously have nothing more important to do or worry about).
Next, I am in a room with a bunch of other people. The spirit has overtaken my husband and has also somehow affected loved ones of the people I'm with. One woman's husband is outside of the building and wishes to speak with her. She goes outside, despite our advice not to, and comes back acting dazed, robotic, and untrustworthy. It is obvious that she is somehow possessed. We realize we are in danger and flee from her, running through the night. At this time, fireworks begin to explode in the sky above us. I think to myself how it is strange to think of someone celebrating, lighting fireworks, while we are fighting for our lives. Finally, (and I am unclear as to how this happened), we are free from danger and decide to form a support group to help us deal with the trauma we've been through. The dream ends with all of us sitting on a blanket outside and watching the fireworks, although there is an air of sinisterity about the whole thing.
Night Nineteen: In Which I Dream About Lucid Dreaming
1) I am at work. It is probably about one in the morning. It is pitch black outside and all the lights inside the restaurant are off as well. A customer comes in and orders a bagel. I put peanut butter on it instead of cream cheese, and he is upset enough by this to kidnap me. I am riding in the passenger seat of his car while he navigates unfamiliar dark roads and makes overly personal small talk. He finally drops me off in a secluded neighborhood. I get out of the car and he drives off. I am next to a house that seems to be hosting a party, as I hear loud voices and music coming from inside. I venture inside and find that all the lights are off in the foyer. I move on to the next room and it is dark as well. The house is like a maze and I can only navigate one room at a time. There are no connecting halls. Finally, the last room I encounter is a sun porch. As I approach I can see that there are lights on and I enter, hoping to find help or at least some idea of where I am. However, despite the lights and noise the room is completely empty. I exit and run down the green, grassy front yard of the house. Fearing that someone might have seen me, I quickly run across the street.
I find myself at the bottom of my boyfriend's driveway. I am getting anxious, having just remembered that I am meant to be at work. It is probably about two in the morning at this point. I climb the driveway and enter the house. I find that the entire family is awake and seem to be having a serious discussion of some sort. I explain that I need to get to work but have no car, and ask if anyone could give me a ride. When they all seem rather apprehensive and act as though I interrupted something important, I mention that I am in fact having a dream; so for all I know my car has appeared at the bottom of the driveway since I last checked.
I head back down the long driveway, focusing on the fact that I'm dreaming. I strongly believe that if I will my car to be parked at the house, it will be. However, it is not. I head back to the house and explain this. My boyfriend's father, who is rather irked at this point, asks me why, if I'm having a dream and all, I don't just wake up. After a bit of effort I do, and
2) It is late morning and I am late for work. I finally arrive and everyone is annoyed at me. Breaks are hours off schedule and they have been incredibly busy all day. A female co-worker makes a racist comment directed at two men and they glare at me, mistakenly believing I said it. I head into the back room and begin testing a carton of eggs for damage by gently twisting each egg in its cup. As I perform this task, seeing only the white-on-white of the eggs in the cardboard carton, I hear the voice-over of a male co-worker reading alout a persuasive letter he's written concerning whether black people will ever really be able to understand white people (his opinion: no.) I am shocked and offended at his ignorance, but listen and say nothing.
3) I am in my bedroom at home. My mother comes in and begins going through my drawers, asking whether I have any Benadryl and condoms, as she is out of both. I tell her I don't and she asks me to buy some. I say that I won't, and after a brief argument she accepts this.
-End Scene-
I find myself at the bottom of my boyfriend's driveway. I am getting anxious, having just remembered that I am meant to be at work. It is probably about two in the morning at this point. I climb the driveway and enter the house. I find that the entire family is awake and seem to be having a serious discussion of some sort. I explain that I need to get to work but have no car, and ask if anyone could give me a ride. When they all seem rather apprehensive and act as though I interrupted something important, I mention that I am in fact having a dream; so for all I know my car has appeared at the bottom of the driveway since I last checked.
I head back down the long driveway, focusing on the fact that I'm dreaming. I strongly believe that if I will my car to be parked at the house, it will be. However, it is not. I head back to the house and explain this. My boyfriend's father, who is rather irked at this point, asks me why, if I'm having a dream and all, I don't just wake up. After a bit of effort I do, and
2) It is late morning and I am late for work. I finally arrive and everyone is annoyed at me. Breaks are hours off schedule and they have been incredibly busy all day. A female co-worker makes a racist comment directed at two men and they glare at me, mistakenly believing I said it. I head into the back room and begin testing a carton of eggs for damage by gently twisting each egg in its cup. As I perform this task, seeing only the white-on-white of the eggs in the cardboard carton, I hear the voice-over of a male co-worker reading alout a persuasive letter he's written concerning whether black people will ever really be able to understand white people (his opinion: no.) I am shocked and offended at his ignorance, but listen and say nothing.
3) I am in my bedroom at home. My mother comes in and begins going through my drawers, asking whether I have any Benadryl and condoms, as she is out of both. I tell her I don't and she asks me to buy some. I say that I won't, and after a brief argument she accepts this.
-End Scene-
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Night Eighteen: In Which I Act Depraved
(Note: Okay, so this is the internet, and for art's and entertainment's sakes, I should put my self-consciousness aside and describe this dream to my faithful readers. Right? I'm sorry. Please don't judge me. I hated dreaming it as much as you'll hate reading about it.)
1) I am at my place of employment. (Note: It occurs to me now that I dream about my job far too much and should either get a new job or a new social life.) A friend comes in to visit and we sit and have a pleasant chat for a while.
2) I am with a friend of mine in a basement lounge sort of room. She tries to talk me into seducing her dog for a steamy three-way (girl-on-girl-on-dog, I suppose), and although I am uncomfortable I eventually agree. The dog, however, is either uninterested or suffers froms some sort of erectile dysfunction, and it doesn't work out.
3) I am in a college dorm and preparing for a huge exam in a class that is some sort of conglomeration of history and chemistry. I am running late and rush to get out of the room. Finally, I exit and slam the door behind me, but as soon as I lock it, the bathroom door (which is the next door over) swings open. I shut that, and the dorm door unlocks. Finally I manage to get them both closed and rush to the classroom. As I sit down to take the exam, which is in essay form, I realize I have forgotten both paper and pen, and am forced to scribble my answers in Sharpie ink around the outside of a Diet Pepsi can. The teacher is none too pleased.
-End Scene-
1) I am at my place of employment. (Note: It occurs to me now that I dream about my job far too much and should either get a new job or a new social life.) A friend comes in to visit and we sit and have a pleasant chat for a while.
2) I am with a friend of mine in a basement lounge sort of room. She tries to talk me into seducing her dog for a steamy three-way (girl-on-girl-on-dog, I suppose), and although I am uncomfortable I eventually agree. The dog, however, is either uninterested or suffers froms some sort of erectile dysfunction, and it doesn't work out.
3) I am in a college dorm and preparing for a huge exam in a class that is some sort of conglomeration of history and chemistry. I am running late and rush to get out of the room. Finally, I exit and slam the door behind me, but as soon as I lock it, the bathroom door (which is the next door over) swings open. I shut that, and the dorm door unlocks. Finally I manage to get them both closed and rush to the classroom. As I sit down to take the exam, which is in essay form, I realize I have forgotten both paper and pen, and am forced to scribble my answers in Sharpie ink around the outside of a Diet Pepsi can. The teacher is none too pleased.
-End Scene-
Friday, August 6, 2010
Night Seventeen: In Which I Realize My Boyfriend Is A Movie Star
1) I am watching a documentary on television about the production of an upcoming movie. As I watch more of it, I realize that it's a movie my boyfriend had mentioned having a small role in a few months back. An older woman opines on a love scene she filmed with him, and comments (rather inappropriately, really) on his sexual prowess. My friend arrives just as the trailer begins. I can't wait to see my boyfriend's character introduced, and we watch anxiously. Finally, the climax of the trailer strikes - he turns around, snaps his fingers, and begins dancing around skillfully while beating the shit out of several nearby high school bullies. Come to find out, he is playing the bad-boy heartthrob of a main character, and the movie is actually a musical. In a second clip, he descends on a giant dumbwaiter into a room lit with an orange glow, and sings angrily about ennui and angst while brooding about. The lyrics I remember: "If this is what life is, I want mine to be over".
After the trailer ends, my friend and I are in shock. I tell her I'm very glad she was there to see it with me because this way, I'll know I didn't just dream it. I begin to think about all that will come with his fame: travel, piles of fan mail from teenage girls, huge demands on his time.
2) I receive a call from a high school classmate that I was never friends with and haven't (in real or dream life) ever really talked to. He explains that he has been missing for several years and, since reappearing, has no idea where he's been or what happened to him. As we talk on my cell phone, I am walking down the main street of my hometown. We exchange pleasantries and make small talk, and I am feeling surprisingly comfortable and beginning to enjoy the conversation. I comment on how Republican protesters and canvassers seem to have overrun the streets and he laughs.
A ways down the road, I come across a dancing pony show being performed under a tent in treacherous, slick mud. I put the call on hold momentarily and sit to watch the show. I realize there is an animal treat sitting on my knee and call "Here, horsey, look what I have!", to no avail. After an awkward silence I realize the animal I'm addressing is actually a pig. I move on, pick my cell phone back up and ask whether my classmate is still there (he is). My service begins to fade, his voice is breaking up and I hear my own voice echoing back when I try to speak to him. I am wading through deeper and deeper trenches of mud that are filling up with water. My boyfriend walks by, wearing army fatigues, and slips into a deep trench and begins swimming away. My classmate, on the phone, finally confesses that he called to give me an important message -
-End Scene-
After the trailer ends, my friend and I are in shock. I tell her I'm very glad she was there to see it with me because this way, I'll know I didn't just dream it. I begin to think about all that will come with his fame: travel, piles of fan mail from teenage girls, huge demands on his time.
2) I receive a call from a high school classmate that I was never friends with and haven't (in real or dream life) ever really talked to. He explains that he has been missing for several years and, since reappearing, has no idea where he's been or what happened to him. As we talk on my cell phone, I am walking down the main street of my hometown. We exchange pleasantries and make small talk, and I am feeling surprisingly comfortable and beginning to enjoy the conversation. I comment on how Republican protesters and canvassers seem to have overrun the streets and he laughs.
A ways down the road, I come across a dancing pony show being performed under a tent in treacherous, slick mud. I put the call on hold momentarily and sit to watch the show. I realize there is an animal treat sitting on my knee and call "Here, horsey, look what I have!", to no avail. After an awkward silence I realize the animal I'm addressing is actually a pig. I move on, pick my cell phone back up and ask whether my classmate is still there (he is). My service begins to fade, his voice is breaking up and I hear my own voice echoing back when I try to speak to him. I am wading through deeper and deeper trenches of mud that are filling up with water. My boyfriend walks by, wearing army fatigues, and slips into a deep trench and begins swimming away. My classmate, on the phone, finally confesses that he called to give me an important message -
-End Scene-
Night Sixteen: In Which The World Has Ended
1) I am living in a post-apocalyptic society with a small group of survivors. We have made our home on the outskirts of a rainforest, near some caves. We gather fruits and berries to eat and at first have adequate supplies. As time (likely years) goes by, the climate is becoming less and less habitable, and food is scarcer. Our best scavenger (who is either an ape-like human or a human-like ape) is losing her eyesight and can no longer distinguish between fruits which are potable and those which are poisonous, so that we often can't even eat most of what she gathers for us. Eventually (likely after more years) we are living in an arid, barren desert, and resign ourselves to the fact that we won't survive much longer. Also at some point, we use hovercrafts.
Night Fifteen: In Which I Live Out Supressed Sexual Fantasies, But Not Really
1) I am at some sort of family function with my boyfriend, and his seems to be the family in question. I decide to leave, so I mount a motorcycle I find and attempt to leave with it. I am fairly successful in operating it, eventually remembering to change gears and such, but can't seem to find my way back onto the road. I soon realize I'm actually riding around an indoor shopping mall. I dismount and start asking around for directions. I finally get my bearings and then can't find the motorcycle. I wander until I find it, and then realize I have lost my bearings once again and can't find the road. I instead accept a ride from a tough woman driving an SUV-esque bike.
(Note: Someone might be offended by this. I was kind of offended, and it's my subconscious. Sorry.)
2) I am at home, in my own bed. I have arranged for my boyfriend to sneak in and "rape" me. I leave a roll of duct tape near the door and wait. He shows up, and has apparently taken my proposal a touch too seriously. He slaps me in the face, tranquilizes me, and forces me to drink dirty water in which dead spiders are floating. He has also brought a plethora of small plastic figurines, which he is treating like real people, and which somehow eventually become real people.
3) I am at my grandpa's house. I put a large balloon inside my shirt and pretend to be pregnant. I am berated by the rest of my family for mocking my mother, who I then realize is actually hugely pregnant. We are preparing dinner and listening to a CD I've made, which consists of Schubert and Debussy. My grandpa commends me on my taste in music.
-End Scene-
(Note: Someone might be offended by this. I was kind of offended, and it's my subconscious. Sorry.)
2) I am at home, in my own bed. I have arranged for my boyfriend to sneak in and "rape" me. I leave a roll of duct tape near the door and wait. He shows up, and has apparently taken my proposal a touch too seriously. He slaps me in the face, tranquilizes me, and forces me to drink dirty water in which dead spiders are floating. He has also brought a plethora of small plastic figurines, which he is treating like real people, and which somehow eventually become real people.
3) I am at my grandpa's house. I put a large balloon inside my shirt and pretend to be pregnant. I am berated by the rest of my family for mocking my mother, who I then realize is actually hugely pregnant. We are preparing dinner and listening to a CD I've made, which consists of Schubert and Debussy. My grandpa commends me on my taste in music.
-End Scene-
Night Fourteen: In Which I Encounter Plastic Giraffes And Obese Girls With Bad Skin
1) I am at my job. Two of my coworkers are sitting in the back doorway, looking out over a lake which surrounds the entire building and extends all the way up to the door. I am tempted to push them both in, but decide against it. I then push them both in anyway, for some reason. One of them floats face down, and the other fails to surface at all. I regret my decision.
2) I am at my job, which is now a fancy banquet hall instead of a deli. We have on display "quiche", which actually look more like opaque plastic modern art sculptures. One is a stylized airplane taking off, and the other is a tall giraffe. They are ordered almost immediately.
I leave to use the restroom, and find a labyrinthine, elaborate ladies' room with ethereal swirls painted on the walls and maze-like folding wooden doors around each toilet. I ask someone about them and she tells me an inspiring story about the designer.
I return to work, and have to assemble another giraffe quiche. I find this task nearly impossible and instead hand the customer the loose pieces and instruction manual.
3) I am attending some sort of contest in which superlative titles are awarded. After a long and grueling selection process, during which I somehow offend a small Indian boy and his parents, I am chosen as the most generous. My prize is the chance to squeeze a rather pimply and obese girl's blemishes for a set period of time. I am initially excited for this opportunity, as squeezing blemishes is one of my favorite past-times, but her blackheads turn out to be so odious and severe that I can't continue past the first one. My male companion takes over. She suggests that he try and find a "weevil". He quickly locates one - as it turns out, a weevil is a sort of corpulent bug that bores deep into one's pores and leaves a gaping hole once removed. I am revolted and yet intrigued.
-End Scene-
2) I am at my job, which is now a fancy banquet hall instead of a deli. We have on display "quiche", which actually look more like opaque plastic modern art sculptures. One is a stylized airplane taking off, and the other is a tall giraffe. They are ordered almost immediately.
I leave to use the restroom, and find a labyrinthine, elaborate ladies' room with ethereal swirls painted on the walls and maze-like folding wooden doors around each toilet. I ask someone about them and she tells me an inspiring story about the designer.
I return to work, and have to assemble another giraffe quiche. I find this task nearly impossible and instead hand the customer the loose pieces and instruction manual.
3) I am attending some sort of contest in which superlative titles are awarded. After a long and grueling selection process, during which I somehow offend a small Indian boy and his parents, I am chosen as the most generous. My prize is the chance to squeeze a rather pimply and obese girl's blemishes for a set period of time. I am initially excited for this opportunity, as squeezing blemishes is one of my favorite past-times, but her blackheads turn out to be so odious and severe that I can't continue past the first one. My male companion takes over. She suggests that he try and find a "weevil". He quickly locates one - as it turns out, a weevil is a sort of corpulent bug that bores deep into one's pores and leaves a gaping hole once removed. I am revolted and yet intrigued.
-End Scene-
Night Twelve: In Which I Compromise My Morals and Come To Regret It
1) A (male) friend of mine is getting married to a (female) friend of mine. I am staying in the same hotel on the morning of the wedding and realize it is my last chance to sleep with the groom while he is still officially "single". I slip into his room while he's getting ready, about to get into the shower. I ask if I can join him for a shower, but he is unsure.
I eventually persuade him, but once I start to undress, he realizes that his temptation will quickly get the better of him and politely and apologetically tells me he can't continue. I feel like a piece of crap and slink back to my room to get ready for the wedding.
I am asked to fill out some sort of comment card that will serve as a memory of the wedding day for the happy couple. I write something sexual and inappropriate which I quickly regret upon realizing that the bride will see it and know I wrote it. As the couple begins to walk down the aisle, lost hope, regret, and guilt begin to eat away at me. My (real-life) alarm goes off, and the couple ends up marching down the aisle to the sounds of a cheesy Hawaiian-esque guitar riff that came pre-programmed on my (real life) cell phone.
-End Scene-
I eventually persuade him, but once I start to undress, he realizes that his temptation will quickly get the better of him and politely and apologetically tells me he can't continue. I feel like a piece of crap and slink back to my room to get ready for the wedding.
I am asked to fill out some sort of comment card that will serve as a memory of the wedding day for the happy couple. I write something sexual and inappropriate which I quickly regret upon realizing that the bride will see it and know I wrote it. As the couple begins to walk down the aisle, lost hope, regret, and guilt begin to eat away at me. My (real-life) alarm goes off, and the couple ends up marching down the aisle to the sounds of a cheesy Hawaiian-esque guitar riff that came pre-programmed on my (real life) cell phone.
-End Scene-
Night Eleven: In Which I Shamelessly Rip Off J.K. Rowling
1) There is an evil snake after me. He wants to marry me, but if he can't, he'll settle to kill me instead. I attempt to fight him off but he keeps evading our attacks. I find an extremely sharp knife and prepare to chop his head off, at which point he reminds me that he has divided his soul amongst a multitude of snakes, so that even if I manage to kill him he'll still live, and his minions will continue to attack me. Also, sometimes he is a person not a snake, and resembles Cillian Murphy.
-End Scene-
-End Scene-
Night Ten: In Which Sarah Jessica Parker Saves My Ass
1) I am driving down the main street of my hometown. Except that instead of viewing the road ahead of me, I'm required to look instead at giant TV screens that are hanging from the traffic lights. I can't actually see on the screen how much room I have in front of me, and I rear end the SUV I'm following. We pull over and examine the damage. Both my headlights are smashed and both front tires are flat on my car; the SUV is virtually undamaged. The woman who was driving the SUV is friendly and understanding, but still suggests that we call the police. I am in no position to argue, as I caused the accident (or really, this strange method of navigation did, but apparently no one else has trouble with it), but really wish she wouldn't. A third vehicle pulls over on the side of the road, and Sarah Jessica Parker gets out. She points out that the other driver is a famous science fiction writer, and suddenly I realize why her face looked so familiar to me. SJP and I spend a few minutes trying to place what she's written while the writer coyly waits, smiling modestly, in a disingenuous sort of way.
2) Sarah Jessica Parker is riding in her limousine, wearing huge sunglasses, and smoking a cigarette out the car window. Her chauffer asks her whether she shouldn't quit, for her health and all, but SJP is nonplussed.
2) Sarah Jessica Parker is riding in her limousine, wearing huge sunglasses, and smoking a cigarette out the car window. Her chauffer asks her whether she shouldn't quit, for her health and all, but SJP is nonplussed.
Night Nine: In Which I Play A Pillow & Get Caught In A Time Loop
1) My boyfriend calls. He is house-sitting for a rich woman and has thrown a party, which has quickly gotten huge and out of control. I encourage him to ask everyone to leave immediately, lest someone call the cops, and after a brief argument he agrees. A few minutes later he shows up at my house, followed shortly thereafter by many of his party guests. I think that perhaps he misunderstood my suggestion, and I quickly begin asking everyone to leave my house. While I am out in the driveway, I find a small muddy area of my driveway that is covered in cigarette butts. I suspect that this is a baby duck nest, so I dig around a bit to confirm this. I find baby ducks that are no bigger than a dime.I clean it out quickly and make sure the ducks have clean mud to thrive in, while also making sure to cover them back up with the mud so as not to expose them to the elements before they're properly grown.
2) I am living in a college-dorm type situation with three other people, who are not present at this time. There is an old man giving me money, and although his intentions are probably good, I am severely creeped out. I am extremely stoned (from something that happened outside the time frame of this dream) and decide to attempt to play the piano. I am playing Bach's Minuet in G Minor, but having trouble getting the proper notes to come out although I know the piece very well. I look down and realize I am trying to play a pillow, which would explain the difficulties I'm having. I move on to the actual piano, placing the pillow instead on the bench for comfort. With the added height of the pillow, I have trouble getting enough leverage to climb onto the bench and eventually give up.
I decide instead to watch a new feature film that Regina Spektor has released. On screen are Regina and her friend, discussing options for pillows to place on a piano bench. Her friend suggests that they sew a feather pillow for this purpose. I realize I am too stoned and have been watching the film for an hour without absorbing any of the plot, so I start it over.
3) I set off to meet my boss at her apartment, where she will give me her keys & prepare me to housesit for her. I call to tell her I've arrived, and she is irate over the fact that I'm a few minutes late. I wake up, and it was a dream, but I need to get to my boss' apartment a.s.a.p. I get a ride from a family friend. When we arive at the complex, it more closely resembles a college campus; dining halls, clubs, and creative signs abound and we quickly get lost. I call my boss for further directions and she is irate over the fact that I went to her apartment and not our place of employment, where she asked me to meet her. I lose my cool and remind her that she maintained either would be acceptable, and tell her it's ridiculous for her to be so angry.
-End Scene-
Epilogue: Upon awakening a second time, confirming that I am actually no longer dreaming, and checking the time, I got ready and successfully met my boss at her apartment, sans ire.
2) I am living in a college-dorm type situation with three other people, who are not present at this time. There is an old man giving me money, and although his intentions are probably good, I am severely creeped out. I am extremely stoned (from something that happened outside the time frame of this dream) and decide to attempt to play the piano. I am playing Bach's Minuet in G Minor, but having trouble getting the proper notes to come out although I know the piece very well. I look down and realize I am trying to play a pillow, which would explain the difficulties I'm having. I move on to the actual piano, placing the pillow instead on the bench for comfort. With the added height of the pillow, I have trouble getting enough leverage to climb onto the bench and eventually give up.
I decide instead to watch a new feature film that Regina Spektor has released. On screen are Regina and her friend, discussing options for pillows to place on a piano bench. Her friend suggests that they sew a feather pillow for this purpose. I realize I am too stoned and have been watching the film for an hour without absorbing any of the plot, so I start it over.
3) I set off to meet my boss at her apartment, where she will give me her keys & prepare me to housesit for her. I call to tell her I've arrived, and she is irate over the fact that I'm a few minutes late. I wake up, and it was a dream, but I need to get to my boss' apartment a.s.a.p. I get a ride from a family friend. When we arive at the complex, it more closely resembles a college campus; dining halls, clubs, and creative signs abound and we quickly get lost. I call my boss for further directions and she is irate over the fact that I went to her apartment and not our place of employment, where she asked me to meet her. I lose my cool and remind her that she maintained either would be acceptable, and tell her it's ridiculous for her to be so angry.
-End Scene-
Epilogue: Upon awakening a second time, confirming that I am actually no longer dreaming, and checking the time, I got ready and successfully met my boss at her apartment, sans ire.
Night Seven: In Which Spiders Are Drugs
1) I am at a friend's house. I notice he has a dog I've never seen before. She is a puppy, a Pitt Bull-Terrier mix. The family informs me that she is poorly behaved and far too wild to handle. I try my hand at calming her down and succeed. Everyone agrees that the world would be a better place if I adopted her, so I do.
2) A man and his girlfriend are sitting outside under a shady tree. She is complaining that she'd like to lose weight somehow. The man kills a spider that happens to be passing by and somehow introduces a chemical from its body into his girlfriend's bloodstream. It has the immediate effect of an amphetamine and she becomes almost instantly addicted. He finds a way to synthesize or extract this chemical and manufacture it en masse in pill form. He touts this new drug as a miracle weight loss supplement, and begins marketing it and airing infomercials within weeks. He neglects to inform the public that it is highly addictive and highly destructive, so is shut down by the FDA.
-End Scene-
2) A man and his girlfriend are sitting outside under a shady tree. She is complaining that she'd like to lose weight somehow. The man kills a spider that happens to be passing by and somehow introduces a chemical from its body into his girlfriend's bloodstream. It has the immediate effect of an amphetamine and she becomes almost instantly addicted. He finds a way to synthesize or extract this chemical and manufacture it en masse in pill form. He touts this new drug as a miracle weight loss supplement, and begins marketing it and airing infomercials within weeks. He neglects to inform the public that it is highly addictive and highly destructive, so is shut down by the FDA.
-End Scene-
Monday, July 26, 2010
Night Three: Bullshine and Sunshit
1) I am, again, at my place of employment. I am (again!) serving strange iced beverages to customers: Iced tea with rainbow-striped ice cubes and black olives. This is apparently a smash hit, as more and more people keep ordering it. The deli is bustling with business and everyone is raving about our ice cubes - they come in various colors and shapes, including dinosaur-shaped ice and people-shaped ice. Someone comes in and I suspect she has been sent to spy/check in on me. She is, however, friendly and casual in speaking with me. She leaves her journal sitting on the counter (a journal, incidentally, which is identical in every way to the journal I have been recording dreams and thoughts in, of late). I decide to go through it. Upon opening it, at first glance, I notice my name scattered generously amongst the writing inside. Before I can read it, she comes back and I quickly attempt to close it. I fail to secure the elastic around the journal in time. As I hand it back to her, she inspects it and I realize that the pages are out of place. She doesn't mention anything, but I suspect that she has noticed.
2) I am having some sort of (consensual) physical relation with someone who even dream-me realizes I really do not want to be having physical relation with. I regret it immediately, and I feel angsty and awkward for the remainder of this portion of the dream.
3) I am humming a tune, and attempt to remember the lyrics. I remember that the lyrics are "bullshine and sunshit". I attempt to remember the artist, and soon remember that it is a Sheryl Crow song.
2) I am having some sort of (consensual) physical relation with someone who even dream-me realizes I really do not want to be having physical relation with. I regret it immediately, and I feel angsty and awkward for the remainder of this portion of the dream.
3) I am humming a tune, and attempt to remember the lyrics. I remember that the lyrics are "bullshine and sunshit". I attempt to remember the artist, and soon remember that it is a Sheryl Crow song.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Night Two: In Which My Dreams Are Not Nearly As Terrifying As Night One
1) I am at a tattoo parlor on some sort of group excursion. Awaiting the arrival of the unnamed artist, I flip through a few portfolios. There are two artists at this shop, and I am leaning towards one in particular to execute my newest tattoo. Unfortunately, the other shows up alone, and as I hadn't had a chance to check out much of her work yet, I decide that maybe I can still get something really cool done. She shows me a scene she's drawn, a moonlit path with towering pine trees, a gold moon, bats in the sky; it's rather neat really. According to her, the last time we talked I had asked her to draw this up to me. I point out that we have never met before, and she argues a bit, but finally concedes that yes, she must be confusing me with someone else. I am a bit wary, but ask her to show me a sample of her script font, as I am considering getting a particular phrase tattooed. Well, she admits, she is pretty awful at script, and wouldn't want to risk it. I then attempt to describe a particular style and design of a floral tattoo I'm interested in, and she really doesn't seem to grasp that either. I consider asking her to draw up an elephant for me, but as I already have an elephant tattoo and she seems rather inept regardless, I decide it's in my best interest not to. (Fun Fact: Prior dream-tattoos of mine have included a Santa Claus-themed full arm sleeve, a giant portrait of Jim Morrison on my back, and an entire AOL Instant Messenger conversation with my friend Julian on my calf.)
2) I return to my house, get out of the car, and begin walking up the driveway when I hear an ominous creaking sound. Before I have time to really do much, my car begins rolling rapidly backwards across the street and into my neighbor's yard. Imagining the damage that is about to occur, I'm fairly worried, and stand waiting to hear a crash. Instead, I hear the "SPLASH!" of the car launching into the lake I live on. I'm mildly concerned, but only because I suspect my grandmother will not be pleased with this situation. I head inside and explain it to her as best I can. She is hardly bothered; she reminds me that I have another perfectly functional car in the driveway and all is well.
3) I am arriving at the local grocery store's deli for my first day on the job. My first customer orders two "New Orleans Cokes". I ask her to please explain what this is, and she does; in fact, she writes a brief recipe including a diagram. Basically, all you need to do is, take a tall plastic cup and layer ice, tuna fish, rice, ketchup, and corn, and then pour Coca-Cola over the whole thing until the cup is full. Delicious! I head into the kitchen and toil over this, scrounging for ingredients and measuring and double-checking the proportions, until I'm satisfied with my work. The woman seems pleased, and I am pleased. I return to the front end of the deli to find the lights off and not a single of my new co-workers in sight. I head into the back room again to find everyone sitting around a big table, talking, laughing, eating lunch, and enjoying themselves. I ask whether everyone is on break - yes, this is the deli's break time and no, no one bothered to inform me. I rush to fix a sandwich, not knowing how long the break lasts, or how long it has been going on before I noticed. Returning to the front end, I find that the meat on display in the case is actually false, and the actual cold cuts are dispensed from sort of vending machines that slice it and spit it out for you after you choose a meat and the weight you'd like. I opt for salami, but the machines are confusing - not labeled entirely in English, meats I've never heard of, things that look like salami but might not be - and I can't get a meal together in time. Break ends. I don't complain, just wander around looking for the hand-washing sink. I finally locate it, and there are various hygiene supplies stacked on a shelf next to it. Among them is an antique-looking box of tongue scrapers.
-End Scene-
2) I return to my house, get out of the car, and begin walking up the driveway when I hear an ominous creaking sound. Before I have time to really do much, my car begins rolling rapidly backwards across the street and into my neighbor's yard. Imagining the damage that is about to occur, I'm fairly worried, and stand waiting to hear a crash. Instead, I hear the "SPLASH!" of the car launching into the lake I live on. I'm mildly concerned, but only because I suspect my grandmother will not be pleased with this situation. I head inside and explain it to her as best I can. She is hardly bothered; she reminds me that I have another perfectly functional car in the driveway and all is well.
3) I am arriving at the local grocery store's deli for my first day on the job. My first customer orders two "New Orleans Cokes". I ask her to please explain what this is, and she does; in fact, she writes a brief recipe including a diagram. Basically, all you need to do is, take a tall plastic cup and layer ice, tuna fish, rice, ketchup, and corn, and then pour Coca-Cola over the whole thing until the cup is full. Delicious! I head into the kitchen and toil over this, scrounging for ingredients and measuring and double-checking the proportions, until I'm satisfied with my work. The woman seems pleased, and I am pleased. I return to the front end of the deli to find the lights off and not a single of my new co-workers in sight. I head into the back room again to find everyone sitting around a big table, talking, laughing, eating lunch, and enjoying themselves. I ask whether everyone is on break - yes, this is the deli's break time and no, no one bothered to inform me. I rush to fix a sandwich, not knowing how long the break lasts, or how long it has been going on before I noticed. Returning to the front end, I find that the meat on display in the case is actually false, and the actual cold cuts are dispensed from sort of vending machines that slice it and spit it out for you after you choose a meat and the weight you'd like. I opt for salami, but the machines are confusing - not labeled entirely in English, meats I've never heard of, things that look like salami but might not be - and I can't get a meal together in time. Break ends. I don't complain, just wander around looking for the hand-washing sink. I finally locate it, and there are various hygiene supplies stacked on a shelf next to it. Among them is an antique-looking box of tongue scrapers.
-End Scene-
Night One
(Note: the patch I'd been using this day fell off, and around 6p.m. I applied another; possibly this, or the fact that it was the first night I slept wearing the patch, is responsible for the intensity and sheer terror of this dream.
Note Also: the following dream contains violent imagery, but if I can dream it, you can handle reading it, sissy.)
I am at my place of employment, which is now an outdoor hamburger stand of sorts. I slowly realize that money is disappearing from the register, and then even more slowly, I realize that actual people are disappearing. Not murdered-in-cold-blood-before-my-eyes disappearing, or vanishing-in-thin-air disappearing, just sort of not-here-anymore-and-there's-no-good-explanation disappearing. I realize that this is an Agatha Christie sort of situation, and decide that since anyone among us could be the thief and potential murderer, I ought to keep the situation to myself and try to solve the mystery before it's too late. I find solace in a single co-worker (who shall hereby be referred to as Dean, to protect the innocent, or something) who I deem to be trustworthy, and explain the situation to him. He agrees to aid me, but before we can really get too far in solving the murders, I notice that one of my teeth is a bit loose. I can't leave well enough alone, so I head to the bathroom to inspect it. As I'm wiggling the tooth, others become loose, and pretty soon I am spitting all of my teeth out, en masse, into the sink. (A side note: I've dreamed this particular situation before, and each time, I think to myself "Shit, I've dreamed about this, but now it is ACTUALLY HAPPENING TO ME!") To remedy this situation (dream-logically), and for comfort and protection, I convince Dean and another male co-worker to lay cuddling with me on the floor. They protest that this situation is, well, a bit compromising and awkward for them, isn't it, and I tell them that any girl would be thrilled to be in my place, and that should be enough for them. Apparently it is, so we all head off to dream-dreamland.
The next morning, I awaken in a huge mansion to my (real-life) boyfriend's mother asking us who would like a soda or perhaps a mango juice. I'm feeling good about this situation, as clearly no one seems to feel their life is in danger, and perhaps everything is okay, and decide that it'll be mango iced tea for me, thanks. Come to find out, my trust in Dean is misplaced, because wouldn't you know before I even get to drink my damn tea he is chasing me around the house with an antique-looking steel syringe, the sort with holes for your fingers on the plunger, and trying to inject me with it. From what I can see, there is some sort of noxious-looking black liquid inside.
I try to run, but my feet feel like lead. I attempt to slam doors in his face, but come to find that every single door is either too big or too small for its frame. I manage to wrench the syringe away from him and inject him with it, but he actually seems to enjoy it. I mean, he laughs coarsely and emits a satisfactory sigh, and puts his hand on mine to push the plunger down faster. Entirely sinister and disturbing and overall fucked up. He chases me into the kitchen when I spot another antique surgical tool, a pair of sternum scissors (curved, sharp blades, steel) that is aesthetically matched to the syringe he wields. I quickly pull out his penis and, looking away, saw through it with the scissors. Once I am satisfied with the amount of blood yielded from his gruesome injury, I run to find help but realize that I am now alone in the giant mansion. I head back towards the kitchen, and in typical horror-movie fashion, I find a pool of blood but no body.
-End Scene-
Note Also: the following dream contains violent imagery, but if I can dream it, you can handle reading it, sissy.)
I am at my place of employment, which is now an outdoor hamburger stand of sorts. I slowly realize that money is disappearing from the register, and then even more slowly, I realize that actual people are disappearing. Not murdered-in-cold-blood-before-my-eyes disappearing, or vanishing-in-thin-air disappearing, just sort of not-here-anymore-and-there's-no-good-explanation disappearing. I realize that this is an Agatha Christie sort of situation, and decide that since anyone among us could be the thief and potential murderer, I ought to keep the situation to myself and try to solve the mystery before it's too late. I find solace in a single co-worker (who shall hereby be referred to as Dean, to protect the innocent, or something) who I deem to be trustworthy, and explain the situation to him. He agrees to aid me, but before we can really get too far in solving the murders, I notice that one of my teeth is a bit loose. I can't leave well enough alone, so I head to the bathroom to inspect it. As I'm wiggling the tooth, others become loose, and pretty soon I am spitting all of my teeth out, en masse, into the sink. (A side note: I've dreamed this particular situation before, and each time, I think to myself "Shit, I've dreamed about this, but now it is ACTUALLY HAPPENING TO ME!") To remedy this situation (dream-logically), and for comfort and protection, I convince Dean and another male co-worker to lay cuddling with me on the floor. They protest that this situation is, well, a bit compromising and awkward for them, isn't it, and I tell them that any girl would be thrilled to be in my place, and that should be enough for them. Apparently it is, so we all head off to dream-dreamland.
The next morning, I awaken in a huge mansion to my (real-life) boyfriend's mother asking us who would like a soda or perhaps a mango juice. I'm feeling good about this situation, as clearly no one seems to feel their life is in danger, and perhaps everything is okay, and decide that it'll be mango iced tea for me, thanks. Come to find out, my trust in Dean is misplaced, because wouldn't you know before I even get to drink my damn tea he is chasing me around the house with an antique-looking steel syringe, the sort with holes for your fingers on the plunger, and trying to inject me with it. From what I can see, there is some sort of noxious-looking black liquid inside.
I try to run, but my feet feel like lead. I attempt to slam doors in his face, but come to find that every single door is either too big or too small for its frame. I manage to wrench the syringe away from him and inject him with it, but he actually seems to enjoy it. I mean, he laughs coarsely and emits a satisfactory sigh, and puts his hand on mine to push the plunger down faster. Entirely sinister and disturbing and overall fucked up. He chases me into the kitchen when I spot another antique surgical tool, a pair of sternum scissors (curved, sharp blades, steel) that is aesthetically matched to the syringe he wields. I quickly pull out his penis and, looking away, saw through it with the scissors. Once I am satisfied with the amount of blood yielded from his gruesome injury, I run to find help but realize that I am now alone in the giant mansion. I head back towards the kitchen, and in typical horror-movie fashion, I find a pool of blood but no body.
-End Scene-
The Story
I have not had a cigarette since the morning of Tuesday, July 20th. To aid me in this seemingly impossible task, I purchased a box of Walgreen's brand transdermal nicotine replacement patches. Of course I worried about withdrawal symptoms; irritability, fatigue, moodiness -- all of which I have been dealing with. I was also concerned with possible side effects of the patch. Past attempts to quit (using Nicorette gum) ended with me becoming ill and not much better off for the nicotine I was ingesting, so I ended up falling off the non-smoking wagon.
Reading the informational brochure enclosed in the box of patches, I was presented with the typical side-effect-of-anything fodder: Headache, nausea, fatigue, rash, blah blah blah. No big deal. One warning, however, struck me as particularly unusual: "Nicotine patches can sometimes cause vivid dreams or sleep disturbances." Seems innocuous enough, I thought. That probably only applies to a few people in a hundred, I thought.
Perhaps this is well-known among the medical crowd, or perhaps users of the patch, but I'd never heard of it before. Well, let me tell you, I am a believer.
If I worked for a corporation manufacturing these patches, I would be concerned (or possibly pleased) that people would start using these things recreationally.
7E74GUTGSDAD
Reading the informational brochure enclosed in the box of patches, I was presented with the typical side-effect-of-anything fodder: Headache, nausea, fatigue, rash, blah blah blah. No big deal. One warning, however, struck me as particularly unusual: "Nicotine patches can sometimes cause vivid dreams or sleep disturbances." Seems innocuous enough, I thought. That probably only applies to a few people in a hundred, I thought.
Perhaps this is well-known among the medical crowd, or perhaps users of the patch, but I'd never heard of it before. Well, let me tell you, I am a believer.
If I worked for a corporation manufacturing these patches, I would be concerned (or possibly pleased) that people would start using these things recreationally.
7E74GUTGSDAD
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