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.
Friday, February 27, 2009
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.
Dream Log 2/6/2009
It was such a mundane dream I’m pretty embarrassed that I even bothered to post it.
The setting of the dream was my parents’ house, even though it looked like my apartment.
I find my brother working on the computer. He’s trying to create new partitions on our computer’s disk drive. This is odd for several reasons.
1) My brother would not know a disk drive partition if it hit him on the head. Granted, because it’s a purely virtual entity, composed of electrons, he probably wouldn’t feel it.
2) After waking up, it took me, someone with an IT background, to recall what was going on in real life.
Anyway, I start to help him, including transferring the files on a partition I accidentally made when I was younger trying to save a file. This is also preposterous, because it’s exceedingly difficult to make a partition without trying. Anyway, I moved a couple of files, including one for my mom (who showed up at some point). There were a couple of files from when I was fifteen having to do with the “Diamond Bonders,” which was a fan fiction idea I was throwing around in high school, and a couple of files that exposed my crush on a girl named Anna.
There was a brief conversation with my mom about where to store the files.
This kind of stuff happens in my life all the time: helping my brother with the computer, discussing computer issues with my mom, etc. So, in other words, the first time I get to bed on time in weeks and I dream about real life. What a crock. Having strange and/or unusual dreams is the reason I don’t take hallucinogenic drugs.
The setting of the dream was my parents’ house, even though it looked like my apartment.
I find my brother working on the computer. He’s trying to create new partitions on our computer’s disk drive. This is odd for several reasons.
1) My brother would not know a disk drive partition if it hit him on the head. Granted, because it’s a purely virtual entity, composed of electrons, he probably wouldn’t feel it.
2) After waking up, it took me, someone with an IT background, to recall what was going on in real life.
Anyway, I start to help him, including transferring the files on a partition I accidentally made when I was younger trying to save a file. This is also preposterous, because it’s exceedingly difficult to make a partition without trying. Anyway, I moved a couple of files, including one for my mom (who showed up at some point). There were a couple of files from when I was fifteen having to do with the “Diamond Bonders,” which was a fan fiction idea I was throwing around in high school, and a couple of files that exposed my crush on a girl named Anna.
There was a brief conversation with my mom about where to store the files.
This kind of stuff happens in my life all the time: helping my brother with the computer, discussing computer issues with my mom, etc. So, in other words, the first time I get to bed on time in weeks and I dream about real life. What a crock. Having strange and/or unusual dreams is the reason I don’t take hallucinogenic drugs.
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