Archive for the ‘Dreams’ Category

This #dream needs more than 140 characters

FIrst, it was the 1950’s and my family and I were living in an old Victorian style house.  It became the 1960’s, people started doing more drugs, and my family, tired of me being the spinster of the family, decided to set up an arranged marriage. So they met with another family and created a video invitation to the wedding. Someone showed me the video and that is when I realized they had arranged for me to marry a woman. How many times do I have to tell them I’m not a lesbian? (This was actually a mashup of watching Hemlock Grove, seeing photos of a wedding my friend officiated, leftovers from Meine Schwester’s wedding, and because my Cuz has driven to Iowa so she can marry her partner. Congrats Cuz!

Then the dog woke me up and made me take her out.  So when I went back to sleep for an hour and a half, I was back in high school, in a musical directed by my English teachers. I was frustrated and angry and couldn’t figure out my part, or what my queues were, or keep beat, or stay on pitch, so I kept wandering off. I sat on a couch. I got some pink lemonade. I wandered down the narrow cobblestone streets at 5:30 am and waited outside a Starbucks for oatmeal. I got to the counter and realized I had no money and that I forgot to walk the dog. My dog appeared outside. I didn’t have a leash for her. We walked up the wrong street and got lost. An old man rode a horse up the wet cobblestone steps and the horse kept falling and he kept kicking it. The horse looked at me to save it. I was trying to keep my dog out of the street from the cars whizzing by. The ocean was on the right, we were lost.

I made my way back eventually and brought the dog home. It was rehearsal again. The Divas were driving me crazy, so I went to the top of the Marriott for a drink. The elevator scares me. There was a private party. I wandered around for a while and realized it was a party for people who had survived an alien abduction. I didn’t belong, but I could fake my way through this. They kicked me out. Four elevators opened at once, four people got in, and I missed them all. Then one elevator opened and a woman and I got in.  It was oddly shaped with a pillar inside. It kept going faster, the woman started freaking out. Then the elevator tilted 45 degrees and I started freaking out. Then we could see sunshine. The elevator became the booth of a giant ferris wheel. It went around twice and we were let out.

I went back to rehearsal. I was trying to fit in, but just couldn’t. The Divas started feinging interest in my disinterest. My ears hurt. I couldn’t hear them. I just got frustrated. One English teacher politely told me that she was going to have to cut me if I didn’t participate. Her new husband kept trying to help me out, but didn’t understand what was wrong. Finally, I was on the toilet, taking a poo on the side of a crowded room while reading through the script and having people talk to me and distract me from what I was doing.

I recognized that as a sign I needed to wake up.

Overactive imagination

I don’t need to play violent video games because they play in my head for hours at night already.

I know this dream started before Perl woke me to go out at 0300. I hoped it would end there. Instead, I fell right back into it until 0730.

I was being chased. Very scary guys with large guns. And they were killing off the people trying to hide me and my two little girls. I kept moving around the town, giving them the slip, but not without them taking out a new acquaintance here and there. The worst place to hide was this circular glass home. It was beautiful and open inside, done in dark woods and dark brown leather. The Harrison Ford-type guy who lived there was armed to the hilt. But there was no where to hide in a glass house.

We ended up at a toy factory of some sort. I thought I was safe in the crowd. But they even had people there working for them. An Asian girl in a candy-striper uniform came after me with a knife. I knew her name was Mary and I killed her and dropped her into a tractor trailer-sized open-top box sliding by on a gigantic conveyor belt. I knew I was going to make the guys following me very angry when they found her.

I was hiding with my kids in another house when the killers sent a very large, black woman and her three ADD kids to the house. I don’t know why I let them in, but the kids started running around everywhere and I realized in all the confusion, they were stealing things. I also remember the less-subconscious part of my brain thinking this whole thing was kind of racist and promoting stereotypes. I’ll try harder next time.

I finally got them all out of the house. That is when an Angelina Jolie-looking woman and her spoiled-brat, 10-year-old son arrived. The son shows me the part in the JK Rowling book that he is reading that mentions another rare book. He wants this other book. He will have this other book. He says he will call off the hounds if I just hand it over. He also is upset that my girls might have colored in it with crayons. Seems I’d bought it at a garage sale for my kids a few days earlier. I know my daughters were reading it, but we’ve been on the run for so long, they could have left it anywhere.

So now I’m looking for the book too. And trying to figure out how I can convince the goons not to kill me and my family after I hand it over. We are in my Great Grandmother’s house and I’m trying to find other precious items I could trade. But I just get the book. It is where my daughters said they left it.

I meet the Max Martini-looking goon in an outdoor market. I give him the book and he hands it over to the kid who walks away in disgust. The kid doesn’t say to kill me anyways and it turns out, the goon is pretty cute and really liked chasing me. I gave him the best run for his money he’s ever had. He wants to take me to dinner. I would like that. He’s buying a new fedora to replace the one I destroyed. He’s trying on a new leather jacket and wants to know my opinion of it. I’m really considering going to dinner with him.

Then I remember Mary. He isn’t going to forgive me for her. He’s going to be looking for revenge. I excuse myself and go back to find my daughters. We disappear into the crowd and start to run again like the white rabbit that I am.

Last night’s dream

The one on Friday morning was bizarre too, but I forgot to write it down, so you will have to do with this one.

Noah Wyle invited me and a couple of guys to his mansion up in the hills for a party. I was coming off a previous dream and was wandering aimlessly through fields and winding roads when he found me. We walked off through a field and up a large hill to the estate.

He forgot to mention that he lives with his mom and grandma and that the mansion is haunted by his father who used to be the teacher in the school-house room in the mansion and the old invalid who owned the mansion.

We drank and ate and watched a movie. Noah Wyle asked me how he could get more people to come to the estate. I tried to come up with ideas for making his parties more interesting. We all drank too much and had to stay the night because we couldn’t drive down the windy, creepy road. I woke up in the morning in a panic because I had to walk the dog, but during the night, the creepy butler had gone to my house and brought my dog to the mansion. I was beginning to think I could never leave Hotel California.

Then a stylist showed up to cut Noah Wyle’s mom and grandma’s hair. Noah Wyle decided I needed a haircut too, so he helped by chopping off large chunks of my locks with dull scissors.

The stylist didn’t have time to do my hair, so I was stuck with the chunky pieces. I tried to leave so I could go get it fixed, but it was suggested that Noah Wyle and I take a walk of the estate with the caretakers, who happened to by Dr. Painless and his wife. Dr. Painless was telling us all about the history behind the old mansion, how the old man who owned the house never had any kids of his own, but many of his nieces and nephews and grandkids had grown up there when abandoned by their parents. That was when the school room had been built with its beautifully handcrafted wooden chairs and desks. Noah Wyle’s dad had been hired as the teacher, and their whole family had moved in. Noah Wyle’s mom had taken care of the old man as he was dying, so he left the estate to them. This had pissed off the butler, who thought it should be his, and even though no one told me, I think Noah Wyle’s dad had died of mysterious circumstances and that the butler did it. I also think the butler was spiking grandma’s drinks and making her go crazy.

We wandered outside and through the woods until we came upon an overpass and a chain-link fence. Dr. Painless explained that these are the grounds of an old carnival. As he said that, we heard noises from behind the concrete pillars and looked through the chain-link fence to find a group of old carnies having a fighting match. They all looked like they had been homeless for years. Or that they might be ghosts. The ring leader was wearing a tattered and stained long red coat. Beside him was a man in a wheelchair and a bearded lady. The three of them were egging on the two guys fighting, one of which was in a wheelchair too, and the other had one leg and was holding his peg leg in his arms, swinging it wildly at the guy in the second guy in the wheelchair.

This is when I decided the dream had gotten too weird and I should wake up.

Don’t say a word

The ending to my dream this morning was me driving over to my Life Partner’s office to meet her for lunch. To get into the building, I needed a badge, not just a name tag. There was a guy behind the camera and a girl directing me to sit behind these sepia-toned army toys. Then she directed me to strike a pose. Then another and another until I was giggling. They told me that to enter, they had to tag me, so the guy shoved an Epipen style needle into my arm. Then the girl said she had some painkillers to make up for that and so she injected me with another needle full of liquid. I thought to myself, I don’t have any pain! Oh, shit, sodium pentathol! Nooooo! Not the Secrets!

I tried to escape and instead woke up.

Good night all, and sweet dreams!

Baby Shower

This is a picture of a Boo Boo Bunny. Mom introduced me to these for my Life Partner’s baby shower. Everyone thought I was Martha Stewart because yesterday, I recreated them for a baby shower for Travel Buddy. Check out My Gallery for the photos. You can ask me for the username and password.

This morning, I had a totally whacked out dream. I was pregnant. NSBindings was the father. This is the problem with having a baby shower at work. I have no idea how this could possibly have happened, but I was trying to debug how it had occurred. Then I found myself in the hospital getting an epidural (because they’d been mentioned during the day and I’m petrified of the needle in my back). Only the epidural was just a big plunger into a line into my arm. And while no one was looking, I gave it to myself. Then I blacked out for a while. When I woke up I was convinced that my child had been born and was this blond year old girl walking around the delivery room. I got into a fight with the guy pretending to be the father. Then I was standing outside and this couple came up to me. They also had just had a kid, but they were moving to Africa to volunteer for some super important program.

That was when I decided this was completely ridiculous and I decided to wake up.

Stressful dreams

The other night, I had another one of my crazy dreams. So vivid, so real, that I still am thinking about it days later. I kept waking up and turning over, thinking it would be done, but then would fall right back into it. The gist of it was this: myself and a group of 40 or so friends—consisting of high school, college, and work—were kidnapped by an unknown Middle Eastern extremist group and imprisoned in this sci-fi inspired underground dirt world. I was the leader, and as such, I was in charge of negotiations for our release. Our captors offered to release us if we produced an iPhone app they required within three weeks. I asked if we could be released early if we did it in two. They hesitated, but then realized the importance of giving us something to work harder towards. I then understood my blunder in that at the conclusion of the project, we would be killed. I made our demands of what we would need for computer hardware before the two week time limit began, and I added in a few things that would take a while to get. For the next two days, I planned out who would be on what team to accomplish our project as I explored the underground community in an attempt to find an escape route. I had planning meetings for the app and I had secret meetings for the escape. I spent hours crawling through holes and climbing dirt walls looking for a weak spot.

I finally decided to get out of bed before finding out our fate.

Last night’s dream was a never-ending round of golf. It was getting dark, I was getting pissed off. I yelled at someone and the next thing I knew, I was yelling, “Roaaaar!” out loud in the real world and woke myself up.

I have yet to get to the point where I talk in my sleep like Sleep Talkin’ Man.

Personal alarm clock

I know it is time to wake up when I start having ridiculous dreams. Yesterday, I was bringing my golf clubs with me on vacation to Maine until someone told me it was February. And I had a conversation with a friend I needed to contact in real life.

This morning, I had to stop by the school I used to teach at. The faculty were having a party. I showed someone my phone and we traded for the day. Then I was told that my high school biology teacher was there and I should show him my phone.

I searched everywhere for him in this weird castle like building the party was in. Finally found him and I dropped about 20 years and was a giggling, shy high school student again. He hadn’t aged. I started rambling on about how someone had told me I need to show him my phone, so I typed in the password, but was nervous and it was wrong, but it worked anyways. Confused, I tried again. Then I really looked at my phone and saw there was a hardware keyboard. What? How did that happen? Oh yeah, I’d traded with someone else for the day.

Realizing the absurdity of the situation, I woke up.

I do wish that I talked in my sleep like Sleep Talkin’ Man.

Last night’s nightmare

I woke up screaming, struggling to get out of the trap that was a cat on each side of me, drowning in a pool of my own sweat. I’m having a hard time explaining this one, but the gist of it is that I was fighting this guy. Kicking, punching, biting. And he would just smile at me. Not even flinch. I was so angry. He had burned down a house, killed people, was causing mahem. And I was trying to kill him before he could do anymore damage. And he was just laughing at me. And the more he was apathetic, the more angry I became.

But it was not him that made me so angry, it was what he represented. Sometimes in dreams, there isn’t an explanation, but you just know what something means.

In this case, I was fighting Mediocrity.

A discussion with The Bills

Had a dream that I was at this small, outdoor convention that hadn’t started yet. There were kids running around unsupervised. I was making my way up to the stage when I ran into Bill Clinton and asked, Can I help you, sir? He was relaxed, and suave, and he gave me a key card and two gold keys and asked if I could hold them during his speech. Then he said that I was pretty enough, maybe I could stand on stage behind him, very still, and just look good. I just looked at him and said, Yes, sir.

We were on stage, sitting at a picnic table on the side, waiting for it to start, I didn’t notice until I woke up that after I looked away at the crowd and then back again, Bill Clinton had turned into Bill Gates. So he talked about his humanitarian work. He was distracted by the kids running around and seemed nervous. He kept mishearing what I was saying. My friend, Sock, sat down with us at the table for a moment.

I said we should move behind the podium. I reached into a shelf under the picnic table to get the two gold keys and the keycard which had morphed into a ziplock bag with the core of an old lock pulled out of a door and two rusty mismatched keys. Next to it was half a pill pack of Sudaphed.

As he walked four steps ahead of me, I realized neither of the Bills recognized that I was the main keynote speaker for the day and they were second billing.

Oh! My speech!

I went back for it in the picnic table and was rifling through papers when I remembered I didn’t need it because I had memorized it.

That was when the dog woke me.

Strange dreams

The other day, a friend quoted Shakespeare, “To sleep, perchance to dream.” I said, I’d rather not because I have crazy vivid dreams. Here is the one from this morning. I bet dream interpreters would have a field day with this!

The first thing I remember in this nightmare was my siblings and I on the side of the divided road (like El Camino) and something happened. I think it was a bad driver, but I don’t remember exactly what rules were broken and who was breaking them. But this woman was pissed, and she was going to do something about it. I think she was a real estate agent, and she looked like someone on tv, but I don’t remember what show. I don’t know why, but she drove her sub-sub compact to a turn lane in the median, but to do so, she had to drive a few feet the wrong way down the road. As she did, she honked at some guy passing her, and I couldn’t get over how what she was doing was so much worse than what the other person did.

My siblings and I walked down the road. It got smaller and smaller until it was just dirt, and we came to the shack that we lived in with our mom. I was about to take Perl out for a walk when my sister’s friend came running up and regaled us with a story of this serial killer going around town. He had chased down a car and beaten two people to death with a tire iron. And no one could find him. I tried to convince someone to go with me to walk Perl, but I couldn’t.

Then, a man wearing a gorilla mask started pounding on the door. It took me two times, but I pressed 911 on my phone and showed him. That was when he pounded so hard on the glass next to the door that it shattered and he walked in. He took off his mask and it was a friend of my brother, so I hung up the phone and started yelling at him. How was I supposed to fix that glass? How were we going to keep the serial killer out now? Gorilla man had a friend behind him, and they went to find Brother K in the one story house.

At this point, I was talking with Meme in the living room. She was in a chair, I was sitting on the floor in front of her. My dog really needed to go out to pee. And in walks Meme’s best friend, thin and frail, and covered in dirt from head to toe. I couldn’t imagine she had outrun the serial killer. I gave her a hug and didn’t want to let go. She explained how she had gotten dirty, and even though it had been an accident, and on any other day, I would have been shocked, I just laughed because it wasn’t the serial killer.

So I left Meme and her friend in the living room and went to the bedroom where Mom was wrapping gifts for me to give my Indian friend at her wedding. Something long and rectangular, something the same length, but cylindrical, and something smaller and square. I was impressed with Mom’s wrapping skills. My siblings all came into the room, as well as my dog who still had to pee. We decided then and there to take a vacation somewhere until they caught the guy.

And I couldn’t take the stress anymore and woke up.

I can place some of it. On Heroes recently, Skylar beat a man with a tire iron. I was watching my friend wrap gifts last night for her wedding. I do have an Indian friend getting married, but this isn’t her wedding. I saw someone try to make a left turn through a space in a divided highway through a turn lane for the oncoming traffic. And I think the realtor was someone from a tv show I was half watching last night while painting my nails. Brother K was prominent because I was talking to him on the phone before bed. And yesterday, I was talking about seeing Meme and her friend this summer when I went to Maine. So it isn’t like my dreams are random, they just seem it.

And sometimes they are good dreams. This just wasn’t one.