I'm pretty sure this is one of the most epic dreams I've ever had.
So, to begin, you need to understand the unique medium in which this dream was set. It was framed as if I was watching a TV show that I'd recorded on my DVR.
It began with Heather Morris, actress on the Fox show Glee, and the stars of Blue Collar Comedy, walking through the parking lot of a Wal-Mart. They're all participants on a reality TV show. Despite this, on screen, are credits for the cast of Glee.
Now, apparently in the previous episode, the participants had their hair soaked in country-style gravy and molded into the shape of the continental United States. After this, they were instructed to attempt to pick up a potential romantic partner. Don't think too hard about this. Well, actually, do for one more second. Heather Morris would obviously win. The woman is gorgeous, country gravy-molded hair or not. In fact, Miss Morris points this fact out to her fellow participants. She is angry with them for sabotaging the game by throwing her into the vat of country gravy, which apparently pushed off the competition to this week.
It should also be pointed out that of the other four contestant, one of them was Bill Engvall, and the other wasn't a Blue Collar Comedian. He was a biker with long, platinum blond hair who was on some American Chopper-type show. Yes, in my dream, was a pseudo-celebrity whose name I don't know on an imaginary show that I don't watch, inside the dream world.
Now, remember how this dream was a show recorded on my DVR? I fast-forwarded a little bit. Badly. I overshot the point I wanted to get to, and tried to rewind back, but finally gave up.
By this point in the show, Heather Morris is being fitted for some sort of costume which involves covering her body in plastic armor under her clothes. She complains because as a rail-thin woman, it's more obvious she's packing padding than her bulky co-participants.
Next, Bill Engvall is talking with Lea Michele, the female lead of Glee, about Heather Morris, who he is apparently interested in. Engvall's reluctance is due to "Saddlewood."
I don't know what Saddlewood is, even inside the dream, and I have to figure out what it means from context. Yes, my brain invented a term that I was not supposed to understand. Also, Morris is 23 and Engvall is 53, and these ages are consistent in this dream.
Saddlewood apparently is a prison term, referring to the rule that a new prisoner's bunkmate has first rights to become their dominant albeit consensual, exclusive sexual partner. Engvall is under the impression that Naya Rivera has Saddlewood rights over Heather.
Naya Rivera is another actress on Glee, who plays Santana, the best friend and occasional lover of Brittany, Morris's character. In real life, the actresses are close friends.
Michele confirms that Rivera would have Saddlewood rights to Morris, but she has waived them, meaning Morris is available. They have this entire conversation within five feet of both Rivera and Morris. Literally, they're two steps behind Michele and Engvall, in sight and in earshot, listening to the conversation. Heather has an expression of dull shock; Rivera is glowering.
This plot point is dropped when Nathan Ford comes on screen. Nathan Ford is a character played by Timothy Hutton on the TNT show Leverage, about a group of thieves who act as modern day Robin Hoods. He tries to collect them for their next con. I want to emphasize the fact that a fictional character has now crossed over with a group of real-life actors.
Now, his presence isn't completely random. Bill Engvall played an antagonist on an episode of Leverage. And Heather Morris does show a certain resemblance to Beth Riesgraf, an actress on the show. But it's never explained why Nate believes the eighteen people who would be present at this point are his four-man crew.
Then I woke up, wondering what I ate before bed so that I could eat it again.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Dream Log 20100322
In this dream, I’ve convinced myself that it’s not a dream because I remember doing this very same thing before.
Anyway, it starts out with me using the secret passage in my parents’ house study. There’s not really a secret passage, but in my dream I’ve convinced myself that there is and I didn’t dream it up.
It’s accessed by sliding over my dad’s desk, which in reality weighs a ton, because it’s a solid wood manager’s desk that he was gifted by his former employers. In the dream, there’s a noticeable seam in the carpet where a trap door lay.
Underneath the trap door is a room. In reality, there is space underneath the house for such a room, but there’s not really one. The first thing you see is a bathroom. Since there’s not enough room underneath the house, it’s kind of a half-height bathroom. It was put there by the construction crew. This of course makes little sense as contractors have portapotties, and if there were to build a bathroom underneath the house, they certainly wouldn’t do so with five-foot ceiling and wouldn’t put a full bathroom set in. Or leave it there.
Opposite the illogical bathroom is a set of two bedrooms. Not real bedrooms, but RV-style bedrooms that are really small and basically just a Pullman bed.
Anyway, there’s a couch between the two bedrooms, and when you pull the back forward, there’s a short tunnel leading to…
The Sleep Nymph Zone
The sleep nymph zone is a large empty area underneath the house. In the middle is a giant canopy bed. Or rather, a canopy bed surrounded by other canopy beds. So I crawl to the center canopy bed where the Queen Sleep Nymph resides.
She’s looks like actress Gina Torres. I am aware of this, even in the dream, despite believing 100% that it’s not a dream.
I’m a dream nymph it turns out. It turns out not to be an imaginary creature, but more of a hobby club you belong to, like a secret society or a bridge club. I suspect that dream nymphs perform sandman-like duties, but I’m not sure.
Anyway, I know I had this dream at least twice, because that’s why I thought it was real. And I’m certain that the intricate journey from office study to Dream Nymph Queen was the same both times.
Anyway, it starts out with me using the secret passage in my parents’ house study. There’s not really a secret passage, but in my dream I’ve convinced myself that there is and I didn’t dream it up.
It’s accessed by sliding over my dad’s desk, which in reality weighs a ton, because it’s a solid wood manager’s desk that he was gifted by his former employers. In the dream, there’s a noticeable seam in the carpet where a trap door lay.
Underneath the trap door is a room. In reality, there is space underneath the house for such a room, but there’s not really one. The first thing you see is a bathroom. Since there’s not enough room underneath the house, it’s kind of a half-height bathroom. It was put there by the construction crew. This of course makes little sense as contractors have portapotties, and if there were to build a bathroom underneath the house, they certainly wouldn’t do so with five-foot ceiling and wouldn’t put a full bathroom set in. Or leave it there.
Opposite the illogical bathroom is a set of two bedrooms. Not real bedrooms, but RV-style bedrooms that are really small and basically just a Pullman bed.
Anyway, there’s a couch between the two bedrooms, and when you pull the back forward, there’s a short tunnel leading to…
The Sleep Nymph Zone
The sleep nymph zone is a large empty area underneath the house. In the middle is a giant canopy bed. Or rather, a canopy bed surrounded by other canopy beds. So I crawl to the center canopy bed where the Queen Sleep Nymph resides.
She’s looks like actress Gina Torres. I am aware of this, even in the dream, despite believing 100% that it’s not a dream.
I’m a dream nymph it turns out. It turns out not to be an imaginary creature, but more of a hobby club you belong to, like a secret society or a bridge club. I suspect that dream nymphs perform sandman-like duties, but I’m not sure.
Anyway, I know I had this dream at least twice, because that’s why I thought it was real. And I’m certain that the intricate journey from office study to Dream Nymph Queen was the same both times.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Dream Log 11/23-24/2009
11/23/2009
I am part of this three-man team of thieves. We were straight from Central Casting: The Leader (white, of course), the Muscle (black, of course), and me, the Brains (I'm some sort of linguist). We broke into this skyscraper that President Obama and his posse are visiting. I don't recall at all what we were stealing, because the majority of the dream was based on the escape. We blew up an elevator shaft then used grenades to keep the Secret Service away. We repelled down the shaft, and somehow escaped to the outside, apparently popping up in what appeared to be a bus. We then slipped out of the bus and got into... well, it looked like another bus. We sat patiently, watching for any Secret Service to spot us, but it appeared we were in the clear, until the head agent got out. He was a nasty bastard, the obvious villain of the film. So, whatever we're in (a bus?) is now not a bus, since it's open-air enough for me to be thrown out while we're having a physical altercation. Anyway, I'm not sure if we got away with it, because whatever we stole we didn't have on us. Then again, we were caught if we didn't defeat Bad Man Secret Service Agent.
11/24/2009
I at a college with my parents and Wyatt Halliwell. Wyatt Halliwell is a character on the TV series Charmed, the 3-year-old son of Piper, one of the main characters, who is destined to be the most powerful magical being in all of existence. I think he's supposed to be my little brother. I'm having him orb (magically teleport with a cloud of glowing white orbs) a bus (what's with all the buses?) up a flight of stairs, one level at a time. Now, this is in full view of other people, who I'm trying to explain away that it's just a magic trick. Yes, I'm trying to explain how a 3-year-old is capable of pulling David Copperfield feats of illusion with "Yeah, it's just a magic trick; I don't know how it works." This is why, on the show, magic is so tightly protected from public view.
Anyway, he finally returns to the bus to top of its rightful owner, a fraternity house. How it got up there originally, or was taken down, I don't know. Wyatt is very concerned that giving back the bus will create a too-great consolidation of power. I don't know why. It's actually ironic since on Charmed, Wyatt himself is a great consolidation of power that many factions are concerned about. I don't know why Wyatt is replacing my actual younger brother in this dream. There's no ontological connection between the two.
***SPOILER ALERT FOR CHARMED***
One interesting thing to note is that, during the show's sixth season, Wyatt's younger brother, Chris, at age 22, comes back from the future to save him, while Wyatt is a toddler, while actual matches the respective ages of Wyatt and me (also a Chris). Granted that Chris was neurotic to the point of annoyance about protecting Wyatt and magic and the timeline.
***END SPOILER ALERT***
I am part of this three-man team of thieves. We were straight from Central Casting: The Leader (white, of course), the Muscle (black, of course), and me, the Brains (I'm some sort of linguist). We broke into this skyscraper that President Obama and his posse are visiting. I don't recall at all what we were stealing, because the majority of the dream was based on the escape. We blew up an elevator shaft then used grenades to keep the Secret Service away. We repelled down the shaft, and somehow escaped to the outside, apparently popping up in what appeared to be a bus. We then slipped out of the bus and got into... well, it looked like another bus. We sat patiently, watching for any Secret Service to spot us, but it appeared we were in the clear, until the head agent got out. He was a nasty bastard, the obvious villain of the film. So, whatever we're in (a bus?) is now not a bus, since it's open-air enough for me to be thrown out while we're having a physical altercation. Anyway, I'm not sure if we got away with it, because whatever we stole we didn't have on us. Then again, we were caught if we didn't defeat Bad Man Secret Service Agent.
11/24/2009
I at a college with my parents and Wyatt Halliwell. Wyatt Halliwell is a character on the TV series Charmed, the 3-year-old son of Piper, one of the main characters, who is destined to be the most powerful magical being in all of existence. I think he's supposed to be my little brother. I'm having him orb (magically teleport with a cloud of glowing white orbs) a bus (what's with all the buses?) up a flight of stairs, one level at a time. Now, this is in full view of other people, who I'm trying to explain away that it's just a magic trick. Yes, I'm trying to explain how a 3-year-old is capable of pulling David Copperfield feats of illusion with "Yeah, it's just a magic trick; I don't know how it works." This is why, on the show, magic is so tightly protected from public view.
Anyway, he finally returns to the bus to top of its rightful owner, a fraternity house. How it got up there originally, or was taken down, I don't know. Wyatt is very concerned that giving back the bus will create a too-great consolidation of power. I don't know why. It's actually ironic since on Charmed, Wyatt himself is a great consolidation of power that many factions are concerned about. I don't know why Wyatt is replacing my actual younger brother in this dream. There's no ontological connection between the two.
***SPOILER ALERT FOR CHARMED***
One interesting thing to note is that, during the show's sixth season, Wyatt's younger brother, Chris, at age 22, comes back from the future to save him, while Wyatt is a toddler, while actual matches the respective ages of Wyatt and me (also a Chris). Granted that Chris was neurotic to the point of annoyance about protecting Wyatt and magic and the timeline.
***END SPOILER ALERT***
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Dream Log 6/14/2009
Two-for-one deal today.
My first dream involved attending some sort of educational seminar with a friend of mine from work named Chad and his wife Candy. It was held as some really large complex, kind of like a movie theater mixed with a hotel conference center. Anyway, they dropped me off at the side door to go park while I got in. I soon realized that I'd completely left my phone and most of my stuff, including my cell phone and my seminar schedule which I'd diligently worked on in their car. Once I got there, I couldn't find any schedules, so I started randomly going to seminars. A lot were on really science-y topics, like astronomy, etc. Anyway, the day went by as I stumbled from room to room. At the end of the day, I found Chad and Candy waiting for me at the front entrance, where they suitably complained about not being able to reach me. We then made our way to this pizza parlor/Shakespearean theater in town. Inside the dream, this did not seem like an odd combo.
Hmm, the dream seemed so much more exciting inside of it.
The second dream, which I had after going back to sleep after my cat woke me up at 5:00 to be fed (he has hyperthyroidism, so he eat a lot, but lately he hasn't been, but now he is again). This dream took place inside the Heroes universe. I was a mimic, like Peter, meaning I had a host of abilities that I'd absorbed. My friend Phillip was an electrokinetic, meaning he could produce electricity. Anyway, us and two other random people are in this junker sedan because we need to go meet a couple and bring them to a pizza parlor/Shakespearean theater (this is the only connection between the two dreams). Unfortunately, it appears we'll have to kidnap them for such a mundane task that even in the dream is a mundane task. Phillip uses his ability to jump start our car (we didn't have keys?) and I stop him from using his ability to knock them out. I tell him I've absorped an ability to render them safely unconscious, which unfortunately makes them all unconsciuos, so instead we just convince them to come, which is remarkably easy despite the fact we came to kidnap them by means of rendering them unconscious. Since it's an overful car, we've got people lying on top of each other.
We finally arrive at the pizza parlor/Shakespearean theater, where for reasons I can't recall, I have to use a body control ability to make the owner tell a customer about the restaurant and what play is showing. Despite the fact I can't remember all the details, I am able to wing it quite successfully, but later when I check the poster, I've lied and said As You Like It is playing two nights, not three. And then my dad shows up and suggests I ask for come cereal, even though I'm craving Italian food. I check out the salad bar. And that's where the dream ends.
Oh, and at one point during one of these dreams, my Dad suggests I wait a year before getting a navigation system for my car. (In real life, I'm shopping for a nav.) I tell him that he'll have to come and pick me up from "Kentucky... City, Missouri" when I get lost.
My first dream involved attending some sort of educational seminar with a friend of mine from work named Chad and his wife Candy. It was held as some really large complex, kind of like a movie theater mixed with a hotel conference center. Anyway, they dropped me off at the side door to go park while I got in. I soon realized that I'd completely left my phone and most of my stuff, including my cell phone and my seminar schedule which I'd diligently worked on in their car. Once I got there, I couldn't find any schedules, so I started randomly going to seminars. A lot were on really science-y topics, like astronomy, etc. Anyway, the day went by as I stumbled from room to room. At the end of the day, I found Chad and Candy waiting for me at the front entrance, where they suitably complained about not being able to reach me. We then made our way to this pizza parlor/Shakespearean theater in town. Inside the dream, this did not seem like an odd combo.
Hmm, the dream seemed so much more exciting inside of it.
The second dream, which I had after going back to sleep after my cat woke me up at 5:00 to be fed (he has hyperthyroidism, so he eat a lot, but lately he hasn't been, but now he is again). This dream took place inside the Heroes universe. I was a mimic, like Peter, meaning I had a host of abilities that I'd absorbed. My friend Phillip was an electrokinetic, meaning he could produce electricity. Anyway, us and two other random people are in this junker sedan because we need to go meet a couple and bring them to a pizza parlor/Shakespearean theater (this is the only connection between the two dreams). Unfortunately, it appears we'll have to kidnap them for such a mundane task that even in the dream is a mundane task. Phillip uses his ability to jump start our car (we didn't have keys?) and I stop him from using his ability to knock them out. I tell him I've absorped an ability to render them safely unconscious, which unfortunately makes them all unconsciuos, so instead we just convince them to come, which is remarkably easy despite the fact we came to kidnap them by means of rendering them unconscious. Since it's an overful car, we've got people lying on top of each other.
We finally arrive at the pizza parlor/Shakespearean theater, where for reasons I can't recall, I have to use a body control ability to make the owner tell a customer about the restaurant and what play is showing. Despite the fact I can't remember all the details, I am able to wing it quite successfully, but later when I check the poster, I've lied and said As You Like It is playing two nights, not three. And then my dad shows up and suggests I ask for come cereal, even though I'm craving Italian food. I check out the salad bar. And that's where the dream ends.
Oh, and at one point during one of these dreams, my Dad suggests I wait a year before getting a navigation system for my car. (In real life, I'm shopping for a nav.) I tell him that he'll have to come and pick me up from "Kentucky... City, Missouri" when I get lost.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Dream Log 5/3/2009
The dream begins with a couple of guys pushing down big metal rails down what appear to be a single-line train track. This occurs on one of the largest roads in my hometown. It's as old-fashioned as it sounds. Except there are also cars going down this particular street, so I'm having a dream which is anachronistic in its own world.
At one point, what seems to be some sort of 1800s police car: it looks like an old-fashioned firetruck, with blinking lights, including a circle of lamps which flash in sequence. They're not red and blue; however, I can't tell what color they are, because inside the dream, it's sepia-toned black-and-white.
The rail-runners finally get to the bottom of the hill, where they talk with other rail-runners. There are hundreds of boxes with other rails and building parts... and flashlights. Several of the men (some are boys) have come to the conclusion that some of them will die down there, because they'll be building something underground. Let's jump back for a second, some company, apparently in the late 1800s, has built a DIY underground building that comes in hundreds of boxes. It turns out they're making a jail.
He's were it gets weird. Without jumping forward in time, we arrive at the "underground" jail, which is already built, and accessible by car. In the car are my mom, my brother, his girlfriend, and I.
We approach the front, where there is an entrance and an exit door. For some reason we're trying to be crafty. My companions attempt to go in the exit all stealthy-like. I wait outside because I have spotted the guard, an imposing-looking woman. I make it seem like my family has just made a silly mistake and she lets me in. I fear the worst, but it turns out they are waiting for me, having also manipulated the guards.
As we tour the place, we talk about our expert emotional manipulation. Just assume for the rest of this recap, we're some sort of genius thieves or secret agents.
We pass by a black family, which is only notable because they're talking street and I was about to say a phrase that suburban, middle-class society has adopted as their own.
Moving along, we finally make it to our destination: the bathrooms. All the inmates are having their bathroom break. Kermit the Frog is being coerced into doing #2. He's been specially fed for it. The reason is, is they want to fish out his droppings. I didn't know why until some inmate screamed out, "I ain't eating some frog's s***." So, Muppet frog turd are yummy apparently. Fruit-flavored is the dream's excuse. (I am not making this up.)
Anyway, this is where it gets really weird. The cast has morphed (as it often does in my dreams) to the cast of TNT's television series Leverage, about a group of expert thieves. (Hey, that sounds familiar!) Anyway, through some action that does not translate to logic or reality, they set up a massive pencil-and-paper game, which when solved creates a maze which explains how to escape from the jail. The jailers, after the board is nearly finished, panic.
Now, this brings up the point that one of my group was smart enough to create a game on the fly which would produce a map disguised as a simple children's workbook maze.
Anyway, the dream internally retcons the point of the map to lead not to the free world, but to the pantry, where all the inmates have an orgy of gluttony and eat months worth of food.
At this point in the dream, it's now a documentary instead of a narrative. Apparently the inmates just waited around (hibernating?) until another shipment came in, at which point they again participated in an orgy of gluttony. It's explained as if we've screwed with their eating schedules.
And the dream ends without much of a conclusion.
There was then a small minifilm following the feature presentation. My new kitten, Chloe, was playing around in my TV chest, fighting off some bug. Turns out it was a wasp. Who proceeding to grow as large as she and sting her in the tail. The wasp then came after me, and I squished him in my hands, and I got stung, after remembering that, unlike bees, wasps regenerate stingers and don't die. I check for the stinger, hoping to pull it out, but I can't find it, but I still feel the pain.
About the time my brain gets around to replaying the first dream (as it's apt to do), I wake up and there's still a pinprick feeling on my hand where the dream wasp stung me. I haven't found any reason for it. Just a phantom prick I suppose.
And by "phantom prick" I mean an unexplained glitch in one's nervous system causing an unexplained pain (analogous to "phantom limb"), and not a jerky ghost. Jerky as in mean-tempered and not dried meat.
Anyway, I read online that eating certain foods may make you dream better. Here's what I had:
Bacardi and coke
A crescent roll
Yogurt
Leftover Peach Kuchen (a German cobbler dish)
Let me not that this is not my normal dinner; I had an early supper with my dad, who I picked up at the airport, so I just snacked before bed. Perhaps this is the way to go.
At one point, what seems to be some sort of 1800s police car: it looks like an old-fashioned firetruck, with blinking lights, including a circle of lamps which flash in sequence. They're not red and blue; however, I can't tell what color they are, because inside the dream, it's sepia-toned black-and-white.
The rail-runners finally get to the bottom of the hill, where they talk with other rail-runners. There are hundreds of boxes with other rails and building parts... and flashlights. Several of the men (some are boys) have come to the conclusion that some of them will die down there, because they'll be building something underground. Let's jump back for a second, some company, apparently in the late 1800s, has built a DIY underground building that comes in hundreds of boxes. It turns out they're making a jail.
He's were it gets weird. Without jumping forward in time, we arrive at the "underground" jail, which is already built, and accessible by car. In the car are my mom, my brother, his girlfriend, and I.
We approach the front, where there is an entrance and an exit door. For some reason we're trying to be crafty. My companions attempt to go in the exit all stealthy-like. I wait outside because I have spotted the guard, an imposing-looking woman. I make it seem like my family has just made a silly mistake and she lets me in. I fear the worst, but it turns out they are waiting for me, having also manipulated the guards.
As we tour the place, we talk about our expert emotional manipulation. Just assume for the rest of this recap, we're some sort of genius thieves or secret agents.
We pass by a black family, which is only notable because they're talking street and I was about to say a phrase that suburban, middle-class society has adopted as their own.
Moving along, we finally make it to our destination: the bathrooms. All the inmates are having their bathroom break. Kermit the Frog is being coerced into doing #2. He's been specially fed for it. The reason is, is they want to fish out his droppings. I didn't know why until some inmate screamed out, "I ain't eating some frog's s***." So, Muppet frog turd are yummy apparently. Fruit-flavored is the dream's excuse. (I am not making this up.)
Anyway, this is where it gets really weird. The cast has morphed (as it often does in my dreams) to the cast of TNT's television series Leverage, about a group of expert thieves. (Hey, that sounds familiar!) Anyway, through some action that does not translate to logic or reality, they set up a massive pencil-and-paper game, which when solved creates a maze which explains how to escape from the jail. The jailers, after the board is nearly finished, panic.
Now, this brings up the point that one of my group was smart enough to create a game on the fly which would produce a map disguised as a simple children's workbook maze.
Anyway, the dream internally retcons the point of the map to lead not to the free world, but to the pantry, where all the inmates have an orgy of gluttony and eat months worth of food.
At this point in the dream, it's now a documentary instead of a narrative. Apparently the inmates just waited around (hibernating?) until another shipment came in, at which point they again participated in an orgy of gluttony. It's explained as if we've screwed with their eating schedules.
And the dream ends without much of a conclusion.
There was then a small minifilm following the feature presentation. My new kitten, Chloe, was playing around in my TV chest, fighting off some bug. Turns out it was a wasp. Who proceeding to grow as large as she and sting her in the tail. The wasp then came after me, and I squished him in my hands, and I got stung, after remembering that, unlike bees, wasps regenerate stingers and don't die. I check for the stinger, hoping to pull it out, but I can't find it, but I still feel the pain.
About the time my brain gets around to replaying the first dream (as it's apt to do), I wake up and there's still a pinprick feeling on my hand where the dream wasp stung me. I haven't found any reason for it. Just a phantom prick I suppose.
And by "phantom prick" I mean an unexplained glitch in one's nervous system causing an unexplained pain (analogous to "phantom limb"), and not a jerky ghost. Jerky as in mean-tempered and not dried meat.
Anyway, I read online that eating certain foods may make you dream better. Here's what I had:
Bacardi and coke
A crescent roll
Yogurt
Leftover Peach Kuchen (a German cobbler dish)
Let me not that this is not my normal dinner; I had an early supper with my dad, who I picked up at the airport, so I just snacked before bed. Perhaps this is the way to go.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Dream Log 2/27/2009
This dream is about a girl. We'll just call her the Girl. After the dream, I was able to deduce who the Girl was from hints in the dream. She turned out to be the youngest daughter of some family friends of mine. Though, in the dream, it didn't quite matter.
Anyway, the Girl was about 10. Or she was mid-twenties. It depends on what part of the story. She began seeming 10. She had run away from her parents to the junkyard. Apparently in this dream world, that's where you ran away to, instead of the circus. So, she shows up at the junkyard and finds a small society of other kids.
She's told to find a place to sleep. She chooses a set of bunk beds, taking the bottom bunk so she can use to the top one as a roof. (It should be noted that I did the same thing once in college. Upon getting a set of bunk beds in a private room, I converted it into a makeshift canopy bed.)
Once she settles in, her fiance from the old life arrive to tried to get her back. Here's where she doesn't seem 10 anymore but mid-twenties.
Anyway, that plot is quickly dropped, and we move into the part where the Girl is now part of the leadership of the junkyard nation. It's entirely too executive, with the Girl having a distinct "Secretary of the..." role instead of something more tribal, as you'd expect from a group of a few dozen people of ambiguous age.
Anyway, the Girl was about 10. Or she was mid-twenties. It depends on what part of the story. She began seeming 10. She had run away from her parents to the junkyard. Apparently in this dream world, that's where you ran away to, instead of the circus. So, she shows up at the junkyard and finds a small society of other kids.
She's told to find a place to sleep. She chooses a set of bunk beds, taking the bottom bunk so she can use to the top one as a roof. (It should be noted that I did the same thing once in college. Upon getting a set of bunk beds in a private room, I converted it into a makeshift canopy bed.)
Once she settles in, her fiance from the old life arrive to tried to get her back. Here's where she doesn't seem 10 anymore but mid-twenties.
Anyway, that plot is quickly dropped, and we move into the part where the Girl is now part of the leadership of the junkyard nation. It's entirely too executive, with the Girl having a distinct "Secretary of the..." role instead of something more tribal, as you'd expect from a group of a few dozen people of ambiguous age.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Dream Log 2/15/2009
I'm in my apartment when my high school Spanish teacher, her class of 12-year-old Spanish students, and one of my old math professors show up at my door. They come in and need to use my space for a while.
I've got college Spanish class that day at 11:35. (Even though this is my current apartment, not my college dorm apartment.) It turns out my old math professor (I forgot who she's supposed to represent) led my Spanish teacher here.
Anyway, I call a friend in Spanish and ask for them to take notes for me, since housing a bunch of Spanish students while simultaneously reviewing the notes should exempt me from the absence. In seems like a much more brilliance feat of logic to realize this in dream world.
For some reason, they all stuff into my tiny bathroom to do something. It turns out this thing is making tee-shirts. This is a class project. I admire the shirts, because the decoration they did are much more elaborate that when I did the same project. I used paint markers to write funny statements on a white tee. These kids have dyed the shirts and put on professional plastic so that little fish with float in liquid on the front. (I did no such T-shirt project in Spanish, though we did do some art projects.) They are using my bed to dry their work.
Since both my bathroom and bedroom are in use, I walk into my living room. I start catching glimpses of people in mirrors. (This is strange; I have a mirror in my bathroom, and one in my room that my mom got me for Christmas because I didn't buy one for my dresser.) Anyway, at first I think I'm seeing through the ajar bathroom door by queer coincidence. It's then that I realize, for months, I've failed to notice that there are staircases surrounding my living room, leading to other apartments, and that people can see into my apartment over the railing wall. It seems that this is the first time they're noticing this, too. People start crowding to look at me, and I them, and we have this nice moment saying hi, as if this defective architecture is a good thing. (My apartment, of course, does not have staircases surrounding it where people can look in; I'm on the top floor, as if the ridiculosity of this dream apartment needed to be explained.)
Oh, and then I'm called by a cobbler. He's calling me to let me know that according to his records, I had my dress shoes cleaned and repaired several months ago, and he's had them waiting in the back room all this time, and he noticed this when he was going over his year-end records (Dream Me realizes that it's February already) and if I'll please come get them. The cobbler is a very crotchety, old guy, probably representing some other crotchety old dude I know. I explain to him I'm not in the area (so I'm transplacing my current apartment to my college town, much like I've transplaced myself there), but I'll have my parents pick it up. (In reality, my current apartment is very close to my parents' hometown.)
So, fun dream.
I've got college Spanish class that day at 11:35. (Even though this is my current apartment, not my college dorm apartment.) It turns out my old math professor (I forgot who she's supposed to represent) led my Spanish teacher here.
Anyway, I call a friend in Spanish and ask for them to take notes for me, since housing a bunch of Spanish students while simultaneously reviewing the notes should exempt me from the absence. In seems like a much more brilliance feat of logic to realize this in dream world.
For some reason, they all stuff into my tiny bathroom to do something. It turns out this thing is making tee-shirts. This is a class project. I admire the shirts, because the decoration they did are much more elaborate that when I did the same project. I used paint markers to write funny statements on a white tee. These kids have dyed the shirts and put on professional plastic so that little fish with float in liquid on the front. (I did no such T-shirt project in Spanish, though we did do some art projects.) They are using my bed to dry their work.
Since both my bathroom and bedroom are in use, I walk into my living room. I start catching glimpses of people in mirrors. (This is strange; I have a mirror in my bathroom, and one in my room that my mom got me for Christmas because I didn't buy one for my dresser.) Anyway, at first I think I'm seeing through the ajar bathroom door by queer coincidence. It's then that I realize, for months, I've failed to notice that there are staircases surrounding my living room, leading to other apartments, and that people can see into my apartment over the railing wall. It seems that this is the first time they're noticing this, too. People start crowding to look at me, and I them, and we have this nice moment saying hi, as if this defective architecture is a good thing. (My apartment, of course, does not have staircases surrounding it where people can look in; I'm on the top floor, as if the ridiculosity of this dream apartment needed to be explained.)
Oh, and then I'm called by a cobbler. He's calling me to let me know that according to his records, I had my dress shoes cleaned and repaired several months ago, and he's had them waiting in the back room all this time, and he noticed this when he was going over his year-end records (Dream Me realizes that it's February already) and if I'll please come get them. The cobbler is a very crotchety, old guy, probably representing some other crotchety old dude I know. I explain to him I'm not in the area (so I'm transplacing my current apartment to my college town, much like I've transplaced myself there), but I'll have my parents pick it up. (In reality, my current apartment is very close to my parents' hometown.)
So, fun dream.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)