A Revisit Dream

Do you ever go back and visit places in your dreams?

I don't mean like a place you've been in real life, but a place you've only been in your dreams.

I have. In my dreams, I've watched a sleepy college town grow into a bustling city over the past 30 years. 30 years of real time, not dream time.

I was there again last night. I started in the transport station. I think I took the train, but it may have been a bus.

I ended up outside of the fence of the Japanese gardens. (I know they're Japanese gardens because that's what the sign says.) I've been there before and this time the gardens were very brown. They've always been green and lush and full of color.

Jacketed Hollow

Earlier this week, Tuesday I think, I found myself reading about bullet caliber.

I honestly don't remember how I got there, but there I was. Not only was I reading about the size of bullets, but I had tabs open relating to the fillings, or lack thereof, of bullets, reading about the different kinds of shapes and coatings. I read as much as I could learn about bullets in a short amount of time.

This probably isn't a good thing because the most recent fantasy (both an accurate and horrifying word) floating around in my head involves a handgun of some sort. The kind changes, but it's never a rifle.

Fortunately, I don't own any kind of gun, so there's all that time, right. But since I've done nothing for years, what are a few weeks for paperwork and background checks. And I can wait. I can wait as long as I need to.

Patience may be a virtue, but it's also a delaying tactic.

Sexy Dream

Last night I had the sexiest dream I've had in a long, long time and it was me and an Internet "celebrity" discussing possibilities for making a movie. Doesn't sound sexy, but the me in the dream sure imagined that the sexual tension in the room was almost too thick to see her.

Nice Dream

I dreamed that Amanda Palmer came to Thanksgiving with my family. One of my cousins tried to hit on her and failed ant it was hilarious. She thought I was laughing at her, but when I explained she was merely indifferent, but she liked that I could talk about the difference in her music since The Dresden Dolls ended-ish. She was excited about all my Dad's boxed sets of music. And she let me sing along with her and smiled at how we sounded.

It's been a long time since I had a dream that had me smiling when I woke up.

It's Not Doing What You Love...

I dreamed again of a baby. This one involved me and it in a car, an old sedan I think, where the drive had jumped out shortly before I started dreaming. The baby never cried, they never do, but its breathing got deep and it made worry noises. (I don't know how I knew it, but it's my dream and I knew.) The car was going down a steep, curvy road. For a long time, I didn't move. Not because I was scared but because I knew that if I hopped into the driver's seat and took control then I'd be stuck. At first we were going slow enough and the road was banked well enough that the car stayed on the road. After several curves I grabbed onto the steering wheel. The car kept going faster though. I screamed at the road, "No, goddammit! I won't fucking drive!" After a very steep corner, I moved over, but I straddled the two seats. I was just far enough over to reach the break pedal. (Never noticed a parking break.) The whole time I was breaking and steer I yelled at the world, "Fuck you, you rock fucking whore! This isn't my fucking car!" I only slowed the car enough to make it around the turns, but some were close calls because at least one tire wasn't touching the ground a couple of times. When I finally woke, we were still barreling down the endless road swing from right to left to right trying not to go over the edge on one side or into the hill on the other, but there was no fucking way I was going to stop the car.

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On a possibly related note, I've been reading everyone's blogs, but I haven't felt up to commenting. Haven't felt like commenting on comments either. (Hi there y'all!) At least I've been reading them. Except for yesterday, to remind myself that sometimes I write good (hur hur), I haven't visited that forum I've been known to frequent. When I did check it out yesterday I didn't read anything except for stuff to try to make myself feel better about myself. Not sure if it worked, but I don't want to get involved at the moment. 'Course that sets me behind and in a position where I have to catch up.

I've been contemplating joining Facebook. It sickens me to even think about it. Still, at least I could pretend that I'm part of the lives of people.

And now it's time for me to turn off the light, huddle under the covers, and hope that there are no more babies in my dreams.

'Night.

Dreaming Little Dreams

In the last week, I have dreamed that I have dreamed of having a baby four times. None of them are my baby, and I'm not giving birth.

In three of the dreams, I have a baby with me. I know it's not mine. I think one of these babies may have been from a cousin. All of them had a huge scar, one on a leg, one an arm, and the third on its back. In all of these dreams, I already had the baby. I fed and bathed and changed them.

The dream I had last night was different. See, I was helping some friends with packing. When I went back the next day and all that was left was a baby in a car seat. When I tried to call my friends all I got was voice mail that said the kid was mine.

So, what does having a baby force on me mean?

Maybe it's better not to think about it.

Falstaff

In my dream, I declared myself Falstaff.

My brothers were Henry.

And we were quickly approaching the end of Part 2.

Last Night's Dream

I was house sitting for a neighbor of my parents who lived down the hill from them. My job was to feed and water the cat and to make sure that the garden didn't get too dry, although it was during the fall because none of the trees had leaves.

Early in the morning on my last day of house sitting, my brother, the middle one, and I decided to go ballooning. He had a hot air balloon that was shaped like a dirigible, longer than it was wide, and the basket was shaped the same way. There was a little propeller attached to the basket, although I don't remember seeing any motor or anything that would drive the propeller to give us any kind of push forward, but it did.

We flew over the neighborhood my parents lived in. Someone had come through and cut out massive amounts of manzanita leaving only the twisted stumps covering the hills.

When the sun started rising, my brother gave the propeller a push with his hand and set us down near the place I was house sitting. We checked the garden, which was green and lively, and filled the cat's food and water down near the house then headed back to the garage, which was where my room was, for some breakfast.

Outside the door were two guys, older and larger and better looking than us. We asked them to leave and they got up and went. I opened the door and found the cat, looking like someone had poured vegetable oil all over it. My brother said we should clean it up, so I grabbed it and brought it up with us thinking I could give it a bath in the sink, or at least put it in the tub and blast it with the shower.

My brother went to the kitchen to get food, and I headed to the bathroom. I pushed the door open, and heard some splashing.

"Who's there?" I asked. There wasn't any answer, just splashing. I asked again and dropped the cat. Still, only splashing.

Slowly, I walked to the frosted glass doors of the tub. I didn't see a shape or anything through the glass. I just heard splashing.

I slid the door open, then stuck my head in too look around. I saw a baby sitting in about an inch of water smashing his hands up and down to make noise. I don't think he was a year old, yet. He was just past the point of being able to sit up unaided, wispy, light hairs on his head and no teeth yet. He looked at me and smiled and slapped the water.

I climbed in the tub, sat down in the water, pulled the kid toward me, and put him on my lap. He was all wet. Even his head and face. He had been completely under the water not long before I found him. I got a bit angry at that thought and was a little happy that the plug in the tub leaked.

That was when I heard a ruckus. I looked out the sliding shower door and through the bathroom door to see my brother pounding on one of the guys we'd seen outside. My brother was punching the guy in the face and then the gut and then kicked him in the balls and they eventually moved past the doorway. I slid the shower door shut and asked the baby why he thought he should be drowned. He just smiled and tried to fit his fist in my ear. I smiled, too.

Then came heavy stomping sounds. I looked though the frosted glass and saw a huge shape duck through the door frame to the bathroom and stomp closer. A man put his head over the top of the doors and looked down at me and the baby. This guy had wild, but shortish, gray hair, a thick, black mustache, a round face, and huge, drooping bags under his eyes.

He asked me what I was doing. I stood up, still holding the baby and punched the guy in an eye. He stumbled back. I opened the door, and punched him in the other eye. He sat on the toilet. I ran, with the baby, out into the hall.

The Hell?

Last night (or early this morning), I dreamed that I had to rally people together to save their civilization. I went around giving grandiose speeches trying to get their blood pumping and get down to work. They weren't really into it. One person started to yell at me that if the work was so important, why wasn't I doing it.

So, I climbed the wall of the mine I was speaking in. I climbed past the ancient machinery still used for refining. I climbed past the rusted pipes that brought water down into the mines. I climbed until I was hundreds of feet above the crowd and there was an alcove in the wall.

In the alcove, I began digging until I found what I needed... a slab of freshly ground beef.

I threw the slab of beef down into the crowd below and yelled out that I was willing to work; were they? And I picked up another slab and threw it down.

People started scaling the walls. Others stayed on the ground and put the beef into the machines. Ground beef began raining down in the mine. The woman who had climbed up into my alcove pulled me close.

I woke up.

Guide

I dreamed that the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy referred to whales as "dolphins with down syndrome."

Dream

Early this morning, I dreamed that two friends, who are already married, asked me to be in their wedding party.

I also found out that, even in my dreams, my fat feet won't fit into All*Star shoes.

My Dream Last Night

It starts with me and my youngest brother (henceforth known as #3) on a bus in our home town, which doesn't really have any buses. It's built like your standard natural gas running buses, but has a second story to it. The bus pulls over and my other brother (#2) and his sort-of-fiancée (#1) sneak on through the back door. The four of us head up stairs.

When we sit down, #2 tells us that where we're going is to the hospital that's in the same shopping center as Wal*Mart, Pac 'N Save, and the 'Bucks I used to work at. #1's dad is sick. We're there for moral support.

We get off the bus by parachuting out a window down to the ground while the bus is still moving. We have to cross the parking lot to get to the hospital. It's a ten mile walk, but we can see the Vegas style neon lights flashing in the distance. We take our first step and are at the front door. The door won't slide open for us so we all take off our shoes and walk through the wall into the waiting room.

Before #1 goes up to see her father, we all go for a cup of coffee at the coffee shop. #3 also buys himself a stuffed animal, it's a seal or walrus, he wouldn't show it to me.

#1 goes up to see her father via the human sized pneumatic tube, kind of like the Jetsons use, but first she kicks #2 in the nuts to make sure he stays.

The three of us sit in chairs.

My parent's show up.

Both sets of grandparents show up.

My aunts and uncles and their kids show up. There are hundreds of kids with them. All the kids go play in the hospital's arcade.

#1 suddenly appears and is given a 64 ounce soda by one of my aunts.

Everyone is laughing, having fun. Someone has brought a plate with cream cheese smothered in a pepper raspberry jam and a box of snack crackers.

Then all my aunts and uncles and grandparents start crowding around #1 wishing her well, trying to consol her. My parents and my brothers stand against the wall, trying not to look. I stay sitting, but now I'm sitting on one of those round couch things, it's vinyl and feels sticky.

Heels and Johnny Logic show up with their baby. They wave at me and yell that they're at the hospital for the gourmet sandwiches. I wave back.

#1 bitchslaps all my aunts and uncles and grandparents. The force of the slap knocks me down.

And that's when I woke up wondering where the hell that dream came from.

Strange Dream

My in-box is empty. My boss is away at lunch. The other co-workers have decided it's okay to waste this time. So, I'm wasting it too.

I had this strange dream last night. I was being forced to live in a judge's house. (I don't know if it's one of the judges here or not. The judge was only referred to as The Judge.) I had all my boxes in my room, which my parent's cats (past and present) had chosen for me by curling up together on the bed. Some kid came in and started to sing that Hillary Duff song that came out with the Lizzie McGuire Movie (I think it's called "So Yesterday") and he wouldn't shut up. So I grabbed his arm and pulled him out onto this huge bridge (sort of like the Bay Bridge, that long but more narrow like for only six or seven people standing side by side) and threatened to push him off if he didn't stop singing the song. He wouldn't stop and I couldn't push. The Sprite, one of my parent's cats, ran across the bridge, leaped and knocked the kid over the edge and into the bay below then trotted home. I stared at her and woke up.

Strange, huh?

I don't know what else to say right now. So, I'm gonna munch on some Cheez-Its and read my book.

Dreams

I keep having horrible dreams lately.

I've dreamed that I was running and fell over a cliff, saw the ground coming at me quickly, and wake just before I hit.

I've dreamed of being in my car, stopped at a stop light with a car stopped in the lane to my left. The passenger pulls out a pistol and fires at me. I wake up.

I've dreamed of crossing a street, getting hit by a car, flipping over its entire body, and landing hard on the road. Then the car came back at me in reverse. My leg gets crushed and as the other tire nears my head. I wake up.

I've dreamed of walking down the sidewalk and feeling a knife slide into my lower back, then one in my stomach, then one in the upper part of my back, then one through my neck, then one starts to crush through my chest, and I wake up.

I've dreamed of being tossed into a lake tied to large rocks and as the first breath of water burns my lungs, I wake up.

I've dreamed of a spark popping out of the wood stove door, setting the floor on fire. I grab the nearest fire extinguisher, spray it on the floor, and the whole place explodes. Some of my skin starts to burn and some of it starts to melt. As I'm screaming in agony, I wake up.

And I've dreamed that I'm in 'Bucks, serving coffee, smiling at customers, enjoying myself. A customer asks me how I'm doing, I say, "I'm great. I have the best job in the world. I couldn't imagine being anywhere else. The world should envy me." And I wake up.

So, if Cinderella is right and "dreams are a wish your heart makes," should I be concerned?

Only A Dream

Late last night, or early this morning, I was in the food court at the mall savoring a cup of blue and orange ice cream. There was a cow at the table behind me. A penguin swam in a pot of boiling water at another table. Two chairs got nasty with each other like only chairs can. Steve Martin skated by wearing a balloon hat in the shape of a penis. The railing cried, dripping tears onto the first floor. The elevator wouldn't open its door. And I ate my ice cream with a plastic knife because spoons had never really existed.

I ignored most of this as I watched the girl behind the ice cream counter. The girl who had served me. She had short black hair, pulled back, tight, by her cap. Her eyes were gray, but when the light hit them just right, they shone brighter than polished silver. The round, green, wire-frame glasses constantly slipped down her nose as she reached down to get a scoop for the spook. Her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth. Sharp nose pointing the way. Beauty.

I remembered how she had flirted with me behind the counter. She took her hat off, her hair fell forward as she looked away from me, it covered her whole face, and when she brushed it back she smiled, her eyes flashed silver. As I ordered, hands on top of the freezer, she put her hand on mine, winked, and grinned again. Electricity passed between us and I counted 27 teeth. I held money out for her, but she ran her hand gently up and down my fore arm before taking the cash out of my hand. My body shivered. As she handed me the change, she looked at me like she wanted me to come back there and help melt the ice cream.

I took my change and paper cup and found a table.

Sitting there, I kept stealing glances. Once in a while, I'd see her looking at me, our eyes would meet then we'd look away quickly.

I heard something, somewhere, tell me that I loved her, that she loved me, that we loved each other. The cow whinnied. The penguin complained that it was too cold. I wiped my face on my arm. I tried to get up, but couldn't. "You love each other," the voice screamed. "Go to her."

John Kerry threw a punch at Edwards. Cheney's tongue slid down Bush's throat. I stood up and took a step toward her, to tell her...

The alarm went off and I opened my eye and saw her face reflected on the ceiling in the early morning light.

Gloomy

I'm feeling a wee bit sad today.

It started in the night with a dream about the girl who was my first... whatever it's called when it's more than a crush but probably not love. Once in a while her face drifts through my dreams. After that I always wake u p and I remember her the way she was when we first met. I remember watching her sit at her desk reading, flicking the stray hairs that kept falling to block her vision, concentrating on the page and looking excited each time she turned to the next one. I wanted to get up from my desk, walk away from my friends, and sit on the floor beside her and just watch her read, but I never did, of course. I barely had the courage to speak around her, and when I did I would stutter w-w-words out and st-st-stumble my way through sentences. All I wanted to do was be witty, make her laugh, but I could hardly get anything out. The last week of school, she loaned me a book. I didn't ask for it, she just said I should read it. I didn't have time to finish it. I had to return it and could never remember the title, only the plot as far as I had read. This was fifth grade.

Before sixth grade, she moved out of the district to another one and in the hills all schools are nearly impossible for a sixth grader to get to on his own. I remember looking for her and asking if anyone had seen her during the first week of school. I wanted to see if I could borrow the book to finish it. She was gone. I sort of pushed her out of my mind, but when ever I was at the bookstore, I looked for the book. I didn't find it. That year was the first time I had my heart broken by a girl, as well as many other horrors, making it the worst year of my life.

Sixth grade passed, so did seventh and eighth. Still no book. Sometime in the summer between eighth and ninth grade, two of my friends (brothers) discovered BBSs. When I spent the night at their house we'd stay up until three or four in the morning reading posts and playing text games like Legend of the Red Dragon and Trade Wars. When I learned that she, the one who loaned me the book, was the SysOp for a BBS, I got the program from my friends so I could use the BBSs from home. It was during this time that I fell for her again. I was only allowed to use the phone lines on Friday and Saturday nights, but each of those nights, she and I would exchange letters. Nothing spectacular, nothing that told her how I melted when I thought about her. The nights that she had insomnia and broke in for a live chat with me made it so I couldn't fall asleep for hours after. From her, I got the title of the book, ordered it at the bookstore, and read it. (It wasn't that great, but it was a good way to start a conversation with her.)

A couple of times during the two or so years of BBSing, there were gatherings of the people so we could get to know each other in person at a pizza place, or a lake, or something. I was always hoping that she would be at them, but, according to the people who always went, she never came. Once, though, as I was leaving a party, the guy who was giving the ride pointed to a beautiful girl and said that she was the SysOp that I always asked about. My knees got weak and my stomach fluttered. She was even more gorgeous than I remembered. I tried to walk over to her and introduce myself, but I couldn't. To me, she was too perfect.

*sigh*

I only saw her once after that and it was also after most of the BBSs, hers was one, had been dismantled because the internet was becoming popular and all the SysOps wanted to use their dedicated phone lines to play on the internet rather than let others play on their computers. I saw her at a play, it was either during or just before senior year started. She was sitting in on of the really tall chairs at the back of the theater. Once again, my knees went week and my stomach fluttered. She was talking to the guy she was there with (who happened to be the older brother of a guy who I was friendly with, at least she was with someone nice). She started to laugh. Her eyes squinched up. Her head would fall forward and she'd jerk it back only to have it fall forward again. I think I could have counted all her teeth, her smile was so big. As I walked down the aisle, I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. When the lights fell, I concentrated on the play (which is always easy for me, going to the theater is one of the greatest experiences in life), but when the lights came back up, I kept stealing glances back and to the left to see her again. I wanted to see her laugh again. The old lady sitting behind me probably thought I was nuts. I remember, after the play, watching her slide out of her seat, take the guy's hand and walk out with her. I feared my heart was going to thump its way out of my chest. I haven't seen her since.

I've thought about her all day long. I've also thought about the other girls I've more than liked who said I was a "good friend" or that I was just "too nice" to be anything more than what I was to them. (I'd love to know, what, exactly, is "too nice"?) I've thought about the girl who reached through my ribs and crushed my heart with her left hand in the sixth grade. I've thought about the friends who have moved far away and how I won't be able to see them before next summer in their new home. I've thought about the friend moving to China for at least a year. And I've thought about how GIESW's mother wants GIESW to go to the doctor and get Paxil or Xanax or some other wonder drug because GIESW's mother thinks GIESW is depressed.

I've thought about all of this and it makes me sad.

If I were a drinker, I'd drown my self in a bottle. I'm not a drinker, though. Instead, on my day off tomorrow, I'm going to drown myself in a rented movie or two or three and a bowl of popcorn and some SweeTarts.

Dreams

I have, to the best of my recollection, two very different recurring dream. One started back in the fourth grade, when I was nine. Every time I've dreamed it, it is exactly the same. I think I have it once or twice a year. The other dream started during my first year of college, and I had it again last night. This dream isn't as static as the other one, there are always minor differences.

The dream is basically a chase. I'm running around a town, which I don't recognize, and the college I go to, but I've never actually seen the buildings. I don't know who I'm running from, only that he or she drives a black boxy looking car.

It usually starts with me in the middle of a street in town running from the car, and it did this time too, but that was all that was exactly the same. I turn down side streets an alleys hoping to dodge the person, but he or she (somehow I know that it's only one person) is always there. I end up smashing the window of a white mini-van. I hop into the driver, pull out a screwdriver from my pocket, and jam it into the steering column so I can start the car. The engine revs up and I peel out, the black car behind me. I head for campus think that I can lose the person when he or she will have to get out and follow me on foot.

I drive as fast as I can. The tires squeal as I turn around corners. I ignore all the stop lights and the stop signs. I just want to get to campus, get away from this person who's after me.

Finally, I see the library building, which is eight stories high with stairs circling the outside. I turn the car on a road that runs parallel to campus. I press harder on the gas pedal, take my seat belt off, crack the door, then jump. My body rolls across grass, then concrete, then grass again. I spring to my feet and run for the library. I run across the quad, dodging the Frisbee players, people doing home work, the mermaid fountain, and loose goats. I can't see the black car, but I can hear it's engine. I'm still being followed. I'm at the front of the library.

I decide to go up the stairs instead of going inside, so I head around to the back and take the stairs two at a time. Halfway through the third story, a guy I know, Jack, is coming down the stairs. He tells me that he knows someone is after me and that the only way I can get away is to fly away. He pulls my arm and says we have to get to the seventh floor so I can jump. I don't know what to do, but soon I can hear heavy foot steps coming up the stairs. I turn to Jack and we run up the stairs.

We stop at the door to enter the seventh floor. I climb up onto the railing and look out over the campus. I look back at Jack, he has a huge grin on his face.

I woke up.







Oh, on a different note, it sickens me how interested I am in seeingthis movie.

Still Dreamin'

At some point this morning, I dreamt that Alec Guinness was still alive and he was in a new movie in which he was a cross-dresser. I got to see a test screening and thought it was the most brilliant movie yet made. Alec was brilliant in it. His performance blew away his performance in The Bridge on the River Kwai. I had an idiots grin on my face when I woke.

All day I've been listening to a bird (possibly more than one) who imitate a car alarm sound. It even changes the pattern of sounds like a real alarm. It's amazing. I'd like it to stop though. I didn't think something could be as bad a car alarm, but I think I've found something that bad, at least close.