All posts in Dreams

For Monica

For the voyeuristically inclined, I present a thorough investigation of my day, in all of its tedious detail.

Sleep was punctuated by coughing fits every hour or so, as I am in the end stages of defeating a cold. I had survived all of the minibosses and was now facing off against Master Phlem. It is a protracted battle, spread across various arenas, including my sinuses. When I did manage to sleep, I had sexual mini-dreams of someone awesome. I didn’t have much time to sleep in the first place as I had gone out to see my friend’s band perform at Joker’s. She kicked much ass and sang tunes both resonant and prescient. I also witnessed much male posturing by a dude at our table. I’m above such peacockery, but it amuses me to see them dance before her. There was also this other guy that kind of made me want to be gay. Like if she had suggested a threesome, I’d have said “cool.”

So the alarm finally goes off at 6AM. I have it tuned to a radio station I hate, so I will be eager to get up and turn it off. The wacky morning DJs are actually calling a listener and getting her out of bed, which actually seems like a useful service. It reminded me of the alarm in the movie I watched last night, American Astronaut. The astronaut’s alarm blares “What did your father teach you?” over and over until the astronaut answered, “My father taught me to kill the sunflower.” The alarm would then say, “Congratulations, you are now awake.” This was very much like my interactions with Dave when we were roomates in college. He was the astronaut and I was the alarm.

I peed and coughed and herded the cats around. I wrote a provocative email. I fed the cats. Alucard is on a special diet, so I have to sequester him in the bedroom while the other cats eat normal food. He is then free to eat his special bunny and green pea nuggets. They all started out eating it, but it makes Neeka puke. $30 a bag. It’s a real drag.

I may or may not have had some tea. I’ve been drinking Gypsy Cold Care all the time. I think I looked at a few web sites. Gabe’s late on getting the comic up and Tycho’s early for a change.

I get in the shower. I need to think about ordering more conditioner. Is this stuff really working? There’s still a wad of hair in the drain. Getting out of the shower, I decide to postpone putting the waffles in the toaster until right before I have to brush my teeth. Defeats the purpose otherwise. Then I use The Device. I bought The Device a few weeks ago when I was ready to shoot myself rather than suffer another morning of hacking up snot due to the cold weather and how it interacts with my throat. The Device helps. Its pulsating jets of salt water ream out my sinuses. This morning I was able to smell the carpet. It’s that good.

The pimple by my nose is almost gone.

Even though my hair is fairly short, it is still not short enough. I tie up a little 1″ ponytail so I can see what it would look like with the back cut off. I will wear this the rest of the day so I can get a feel for it.

I make sure my iPod is all loaded up and then I head out for work. I’m maybe 20 minutes late. It’s okay because I’ve been going in 15 minutes early all week. I’m almost to the freeway when the coughing fit hits me. I pull into a parking lot and cough and choke and vomit. I head back home and cough and vomit some more. I think about eating breakfast again, but decide instead to take some of Amy’s Organic Ravioli with me for lunch. I head back towards work, listening to GeeksOn. They are having a rather heated discussion about copyright and deep linking on web sites. I haven’t heard them so wound up. Peter and Matt are especially intense.

At work there are now too many things for me to do. In addition to ongoing web site redesigns, I am learning CSS, writing articles for the new newsletter, running a batch of find & replace tasks on the site code, making icons, taking over some sites from the other designer, and thinking of new ways to revamp the company’s business model. I have some tea and answer emails. I finish another site. I never noticed how often I have to use the restroom until I started being someplace other than my apartment for extended periods of time.

I find myself thinking of someone awesome and smiling a lot, thinking I might just go for it.

Eventually, 1PM rolls around and I get out of there. I stop at Style America and have the hairdresser cut it even shorter. Sitting in the chair, I am painfully aware of how I am talking about nothing at all with the hairdresser and I am doing it vigorously. I used phrases I didn’t really need to in order to describe the simplest of things. So now I have a wedge cut, like Starbuck.

I listen to GeeksOn on the way home. There is traffic on I-40 as they have decided to do construction on the left lane. There is so much road construction going on around the city that the detours actually lead you into more construction. The Washington overpass is simply gone. There’s some kind of archeological dig happening on the eastbound side of I-40. Central is a nightmare of orange barrels. During one such meandering detour, I drove past the new Uptown, a dazzling array of new stores that once only existed in California.

At home there is no good email or regular mail. I file my taxes. I’m getting a refund for the first time in like forever. I already spent it on a new movie screen. For lunch I reheat the gnocchi I made last night, but it tastes like ass. Nothing like Saggio’s. I decide to rejoin the GeeksOn forums. I was gone for about a week, nursing a bruised ego. I had made a valentine for Lisa Lassek, building it from bits of Wonderfalls and Firefly footage she had edited. They called me a stalker and that hurt. It was a cool valentine. I get caught up on the forums and then write a few emails.

Then I started writing this blog entry.

Don’t Go Back to Sleep

For whatever reason, I awoke at 3 AM, feeling completely rested and ready for the day. I got up and watched Torchwood and then thought I should try to get some more sleep as I would feel it later in the day. So I fell asleep and, in that hour and a half, had completely horrible dreams of rejection, despair, and forgetting how to fly. Some little unibrow girl told me I was ugly and her friend agreed. Unfortunately her friend was Heather Graham, so I couldn’t just shake it off. Part of the dream involved wandering into a crusty DVD/Game store and finding a beat up board game called “Pistar” by Ian Watson. It was $180 because it was an unproduced prototype. I woke up feeling ragged and demoralized, as though I hadn’t slept in a day. “Pistar” is probably a corruption of “Pirates.” The colorful shipwreck on a desert island from the dream game’s cover lends itself to this theory. Ian Watson writes science fiction novels, but I haven’t read any of them.

I guess the moral is don’t go back to sleep.

Pattern

I sort of recreated the pattern from the dream below. The dark center wasn’t so thick. I think I’ve seen this pattern before, like a filter I used in Photoshop one time. It’s in Kai’s Power Tools. One of the filters was a little workshop that let you mutate shapes like you were looking at blood platelets in a microscope. That’s what it looked like.

Freakishly Realistic Dream

I always have the weirdest, most intense dreams when I wake up for a bit in the middle of the night and then try to go back asleep. I awoke at 4 and didn’t really get back to sleep until around 6 or so. What made this dream so realistic, I think, was the fact that I was dreaming inside of the dream and then woke up.

The dream inside the dream was a full-sensory, super realistic sexual dream. I really thought I was having sex. But then I woke up into this other dream where I was in a new apartment. I was really freaked out by the sex dream and was really disoriented. I kept seeing this strange pattern,a network of black, shattered lines against bright white. It is something I could probably make in Photoshop. In the dream, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and saw the pattern in the veins in my right eye. It was bloodshot, but just in one spot, like a blemish on my eye. Then the pattern glowed out of my chest, like there was a flashlight under my skin projecting it. It throbbed out of my forehead too. As I moved through the apartment, the pattern shone out from the dark corners. I looked out the window and tree branches against the moon formed the pattern. I went outside to get some air. I saw the pattern in the shrubs backlit by low lamps.


Back inside the apartment, I got hungry so went to check the fridge. It was loaded with food. Then I remembered that a bunch of people had been there earlier today while I was gone at work or school or whatever I did in the dream. I grabbed some pizza and began eating as I walked around the new apartment. It was actually a small house. The details of everything were so fleshed out. Two of the rooms looked like they were under construction, with piles of debris in the center. I heard something in another room, so I went to investigate. The floor was covered with mice and ants. My cats were flipping out, chasing the mice around. Three of the mice were balanced on each other’s shoulders, doing some kind of circus trick, when Kallista leapt at them, spinning in midair to grab the top one and run off with it. Moriarty was trying to swallow one whole. The scene was so incredible that I had to get a picture of it. I found my cell phone on the kitchen counter, but when I flipped it open, I realized it was someone else’s phone.

Then I remembered that I was sharing the house with someone else. The shadowy house suddenly grew light and began to populate itself with the family I was staying with. Eddie Cibrian, an actor from a movie I watched last night, walked in and began to chastize me for leaving the kitchen in such a messy state. All of his (I can’t remember the word for really fancy food) had grown a thick mold over it because I had left it out on the counter. I tried to explain that it had been the people here before and that I hadn’t had time to clean the house yet. Later I startled his wife who still wasn’t used to me living there. I kept referring to Eddie as “Russell,” his character on “Invasion.”

And that’s all I remember.

Inside

It occurred to me recently that my dreams happen almost exclusively indoors. Malls, hotels, houses, vehicles, etc. All interior scenes. I never dream of being in the desert or the jungle or flying through the sky (even my flying dreams take place indoors). The one dreamlike place I used to visit that wasn’t indoors was a green hill. Now there is just a fountain of light where a tower used to be.

My stories often have many outdoor scenes involving travel and expansive locales. It seems there are two types of subconscious forces at play here: one that presents when I am passively seeking it (asleep) and one I dip into actively. There may be a balance in this, as one subconcious is aware of the other, seeking to pull it outside of its confines.

Bus and Bill Dreams

In the dream I climbed aboard the bus-like supertransport. Imagine a combination triple-decker bus and high-speed train. As I walked down the aisle, trying to figure out where I’m supposed to sit, I peered out through the windows, hoping that perhaps She had changed her mind and will come with me to California. She hadn’t. As I near the back of the passenger area, I realized that there weren’t any assigned seats and I could sit wherever I want. There was a seat available next to a very lovely woman. I sat down next to her. She was completely enchanting. Her voice sounded normal, but when I asked her name, these otherworldly syllables came out, as though perhaps she were speaking Elvish. I asked her to spell her name because I didn’t quite get it. I leaned in, ear near her lip, and she spelled her name in letters that weren’t a part of any human language. I laughed, shrugging it off. She said she had an accent because she’s from the South. The dream shifted to us getting off the bus at some street corner in California.

A dream fragment: I am in the corridor of a military spaceship. I seem to be a female officer. While chaos and red lights and klaxxons surround me, I calmly crouch to access an ancient-looking computer terminal in the floor. At the command line I type in “Contact Adama”. Apparently I’ve just had my first Battlestar Galactica dream.

Another dream took place at a really lame high school party. Looked like it was in a YMCA or something. I sat down on a computer and visited my friend Bill’s site. I clicked on a link and a video started to play. It seemed like a strange personal ad, only it wasn’t for a dating service but for readers of Soldier of Fortune magazine or something similar. Like if you needed another commando for your team, you’d check out these ads. Anyhow, there was Bill, only it was this super-buff Rambo version of him. He had shaved his head and had tattoos around each now muscular arm. The video was a rapid-fire montage. He was doing all these funny poses, changing hats from this bike Nazi helmet to one of those hats you wear while exploring the Australian outback. He had a paintball gun in some of the shots. It was funny because it still looked like Bill, with his perpetually-quizzical expression only with a shaved head.

Tooth

I had a dream last night that I lost one of my front teeth and there was a big gaping hole in my smile. I awoke to find half a tooth missing. A large molar filling I had received a few months ago just fell out entirely sometime in the night. Now I only have half a tooth back there. Guess I need to have it pulled.

Whack dreams

The past two nights I have had dreams involving House of Whack, my board game. The night before last I had one of those transcendant dreams where I knew I was being given important information about the true nature of reality, but I could not hope to take it into waking life. I remember a crone or perhaps a hermit spreading the rooms out like a tarot reading. I don’t think anyone really understands what happens inside my head when I think of the game. They see a board game, but I see something else.

Last night’s dream involved a Kinko’s or something. The place was being robbed or I was being threatened somehow. The assailant was holding me at gunpoint and asking me to explain the contents of the House of Whack box. There was a story resting on top of the game components. I took it out and pulled out some room cards so I could show this person how the rooms connected together. I noticed that there were rooms I had not created for the game.

X-Wing Dream

My dreams were all over the map early this morning. One of them had to do with some kind of private company’s acquisition of an X-Wing fighter that had crash-landed on Earth. I wasn’t actually in the dream, just sort of watching it. Michael Madsen played this billionaire playboy who owned the company that had retrieved the fighter. They were repairing it and retrofitting it so that it worked kind of like a flying car. There was a scene where he took it for a spin around this parking garage/airstrip just beneath his penthouse apartment. He longed to fly it off the edge of the building and into the sky, but he knew it wasn’t ready yet. In another scene, an engineer presented his findings to his peers, showing how the X-wing solved a few design issues that had been plaguing him on the design of his own plane.

Date with Alyson

When I started watching Buffy, I immediately developed an embarrassing schoolboy crush on Willow, played by Alyson Hannigan. Last night, in a dream, we went out on a date. Unfortunately, my dream version of Alyson was really awkward and uncommunicative, accessing my databanks and deciding to use my first girlfriend as source material. Oh well.

I miss those Buffy dreams, hanging out on the set with the Scooby gang, chillin’ with Oz.