I had a really weird nightmare, so fantastically weird that I'm afraid I've already forgotten most of it, as usual.
I was in an apartment with Donald Trump and a woman, sitting at a table. There was some trivial dispute or something like that, so he had this other middle-aged woman who was working for him poison her coffee and she was dead on the spot. Now it was my job to get rid of the cup and spoon, which I did at a nearby grocery store, in a garbage can. I was trying to figure out how to stop these people, as this obviously was business as usual for them, and then I saw her following me. Now she was on to me and trying to kill me. I fought her several times as I tried to escape, but when I thought I had knocked her out, it started again. Every time she woke up again she made this deep groaning noise which served to get people around her under her mental control, which made it impossible to get bystanders to help me. Somehow during the struggle the top half of her head came off and I threw it on the motorway where it was run over by a truck. That still didn't work. Then I woke up.
I awoke from a dream with the weirdest boner. In the dream, I was consulting a female friend who shall remain nameless about my wanting to create a sculpture of a vagina for a product I was considering developing. She asked whose vagina did I want to sculpt. Another female friend who shall also remain nameless appeared in the distance, waving. Yup. That one.
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Sleep - the most beautiful experience in life - except drink.--W.C. Fields
Thanks, from:
But (02-10-2018), JoeP (02-10-2018), lisarea (02-10-2018)
Another dream during the night had two security guards called police on a man who was holding an empty plastic garbage can up over his head. "Shoot him," they said to the two police officers, who stood there, guns holstered. "Shoot him, he is threatening us." "We don't shoot people on private property who haven't violated any laws. If you tell him he is trespassing and he won't leave, we'll give him a ticket. If he tries anything like hitting us with that garbage can, then we'll shoot him. But, believe it or not, we don't shoot everyone we encounter." One security guard pulls out a taser. The cops shoot him.
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Sleep - the most beautiful experience in life - except drink.--W.C. Fields
I had a bloody awful dream last night. It started with me driving down a dirt road, encountering my cousin Herb driving a John Deere Model 92 combine harvester. I hopped aboard. He said he was driving it to a neighboring farm to give as a peace offering to people they have had a land dispute with. We get to the turn of the road by the gate to their farm, Herb stops to disconnect his pickup truck from the tow bar on back, then drives up to the farmyard. There are a bunch of people gathered around a fire pit in the cedar tree lined yard of the old white farmhouse with peeling paint. The people around the firepit are passing around a bottle of whiskey. I join in.
Herb tells the couple who own the farm about the fully functional antique combine harvester. He then walks down the lane to retrieve his pickup truck. The couple follow him. I hear him shout in pain. I start after him, but am accosted by a large fellow in a tight white t-shirt, who said, "I'm giving you your Malloy Moment," as he starts pushing me. I said I didn't do anything to anyone, "Why are you doing this to me?" He punches me in the face, knocking me to the ground. Others gather around to kick me while I am down. I pass out.
I wake to see the people still gathered around the fire. I hear vehicles approaching. It is a gold Hummer H2 and a black Suburban or Tahoe. They stop in the farmyard. There is much yelling. Two people get out of the gold Hummer with assault rifles. They shoot the farm owner couple. The people around the fire run around, grabbing shotguns and rifles. There is a shootout with men that get out of the black SUV. It doesn't go well for the assault rifle people, they all get killed or wounded, placed back into their SUVs.
A backhoe gets fired up and digs a huge hole in the ground, then pushes the SUVs, now with their human cargo inside into the hole. Gasoline and diesel fuel are poured all over them, then lit on fire. I heard screams of the wounded, smelled bacon cooking. Daylight came and I want to go home. The people around the farm are all asleep. The smoking hulk of the SUVs are still in the uncovered hole. I cannot find my cellphone. I walk down the lane to where Cousin Herb's truck is. I see four fresh graves there and one empty one. For me, I guess. Herb's keys are in his truck. I drive off.
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Sleep - the most beautiful experience in life - except drink.--W.C. Fields
I just had a 1-2 hour lucid dreaming binge in the afternoon. I keep having them more often these days, which is awesome. There is almost complete lucidity and awareness of how close I am to waking up. I try to observe different aspects of the realism and there is the thing where everything I imagine happening to the scene happens, but with a possible delay of a second or two, as I gain control. Things just happen naturally in parallel. This time I watched a door and made random people walk in, waited until they said or did something, and then just made them turn around and walk out again. Then I let things catch fire by themselves and watched. Last time I stood in front of a mirror that showed no reflection of myself.
Had a bit too much beer while watching America's Test Kitchen (My too much is much less than most others), and had a dream where I was worried I got the fish too drunk and I wouldn't be able to properly cook it with it's slurring speech and the fillets kept rolling out of the pan.
I am dreaming science fiction again. This time there was a wall between two civilizations who hadn't seen each other in a long time. One culture "won" by sending robotic drones. Everyone was being encouraged to leave the crowded city,get a ticket (like a DMV number) and go to the culture behind the wall. Don't worry about bringing anything, just go. It was a lot more detail than that, but that was the gist.
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Ishmaeline of Domesticity drinker of smurf tears
I had a fitful night's sleep, trying to sleep without the BiPAP machine, so I woke up from these four dreams.
1) I dreamed I was sleeping on the porch of an long-neglected and abandoned house, my friend Bob Green there with me, waking up in the early morning light when I heard him say, "Is that a cobra?" I looked out into the narrow street that ran up a hill to the right. Sure enough, a cobra was raising its head. "I hope it doesn't come this way." It did. We both scrambled out of our sleeping bags and ran away from it down the hill. All the houses on this street were ramshackle shanties of various description, and virtually right next to the pavement, no front yards to speak of. Bob asked me, "Where are we?" I said I don't know. I looked around. I could see a clock tower that looked Big Ben in the distance. "London?" I walked down the street for another block and found "Big Ben" was only 25-30 feet tall and standing in the middle of an unmown grassy park. Back at the same house for the night, we decided to sleep inside. The inside was in terrible condition, broken plaster, exposed lath, holes in the floor. I put my sleeping bag down on the floor near a wall, Bob on the other side of the room. Just as I started to lie down, a snake popped its head out of one of the holes in the floor. It wasn't the cobra, but I tried to kill it with my cellphone. I wasn't successful, it escaped back under the house. The next morning, Bob and I were on the front porch when the cobra slithered out from under the porch. Almost as soon as it did, three brown weasels came out of the grass in the vacant lot next door and went after it, a mother weasel and two babies about half her size. They chased the cobra up the street, biting it then jumping back when it struck. Eventually, the cobra was dead and the weasels tore it to pieces.
2) Second dream connected to the first. I was still at the same house with Bob when my daughter Roxy walked up and said she registered new religion with the city, The Church of Britney Spears. She showed me a typewritten index card that said as much, signed by the city registrar. It showed "The Church of Britney Spears" as the name of the organization. Added to the end of that line was "now known as Britney Strange". Strange, indeed.
3) I was working on remodeling of an old yellow 2 bedroom stucco bungalow. Elton, an old family friend who died in 2002, was supervising myself and his son Edwin, my cousins Jim and Herb and a couple of other men I did not know. It was going well, demolition of rotten boards and replacement of kitchen and bathroom fixtures. Then someone brought a baby goat to the house. Several of us played with the goat. Elton told us to get back to work. "What are we going to do with the goat?" someone asked. I mentioned that there was a small barn at the back of the property. So, I put the goat in a pen in that barn. The goat kept climbing out. I kept putting it back. I spent the rest of the dream putting that goat back in the pen.
4) Fourth dream related to the first and second dreams, even the third somewhat. Still at the old mustard-yellow stucco house, Elton told me to go demolish that old house in "Stilwell" (Kansas?) by whatever means I felt necessary. I decided to tie a heavy cable around it and pull it down with a large dual-wheeled pickup truck. Instead of coming apart, the house stayed intact as it slid off its foundation and skidded along the street behind the pickup, boards falling off, windows breaking, and generally making a lot of noise. That noise was probably me snoring without my BiPAP machine.
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Sleep - the most beautiful experience in life - except drink.--W.C. Fields
I'm not sure what most of that was about but it ended with, "Honestly, I don't know if that actually exists as we're all in a dream right now." And then I woke up.
Takeaways, I really would enjoy that funky little cocktail bar on the second floor of that three story 50s era brownstone shaped building decorated with a mix of Louis XIV and mid-mod. And dildo brass knuckles are awesome.
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Peering from the top of Mount Stupid
Today in weird dream theater: A really annoying video game level where I was being chased by a sniper who's shooting through the floor above. I could hear him thumping around and roughly track where he was but he had the psychic power to jam our weapons(there were several of us, nobody in particular) and I never got the pattern right to shoot him before he shot us.
There was a curious lack of fear to the situation. Rather I kind of felt, "Ugh, not this shit again".
Two or three days ago I became lucid in the middle of a dream (I was like "cogito ergo sum bitches, bring it on ) and remembered this one thing that seemed to be a central problem before: context and memory. Even in lucid dreams, it always looked like I was isolated from memories of the real world, which is actually a really nice thing about the sleep experience at times.
So I tried to remember what I did the day before and I remembered that I was at college. What exactly had happened there? I couldn't come up with anything more specific. I tried hard to remember. Seemingly as a result of this, I woke up and thought "Complete nonsense, I haven't been there in weeks". That was true, but it turned out to be a false awakening, and I was still dreaming. Quite fascinating how the mind works.
Someone on their way to a ceremony involving a kiss where the recipient is warned by her mute and empty eyed escorts to bite off the tongue when it intrudes. Plot twist, the recipient and the evil soul devouring queen are the same person and this is a loyalty test.
It may have sprung from a Cyanide and Happiness comic I'd viewed shortly before bed involving an eye chart and Satan.
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Peering from the top of Mount Stupid
I'm not sure about the freeway overpass that's too low to walk under, much less get a car in under.
Always nice to visit that recurring dreamscape, though, the semi rural one. The roads ate always a little different each time but it's always sloping downhill green fields to the northeast and increasingly urban to the southwest.
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Peering from the top of Mount Stupid
Matlock and I were driving around in a convertible through this horrible endless suburb--the kind where everything looks the same, and they have those creepy almost fractal street grids, so you get lost and think you're just going to die there. We were speaking French, and there was a fake bald eagle following us. It was like I guess a drone or something, but it just looked like eight bit CGI.
I don't know if I was actually dreaming in French or just that fake French where you speak English with a Maurice Chevalier accent and say sacre bleu and hon hon every now and again.* I only know about enough French to sometimes be able to understand maybe half of what people are saying if they talk slowly, so I'm guessing it was the latter.
* J/K. I know that's how you actually speak French.
After being at the fair from a week ago Monday through last Sunday helping The Kid show her chickens, for the past three nights I have dreamed I am walking aimlessly around the fair.
I don't know if I was actually dreaming in French or just that fake French where you speak English with a Maurice Chevalier accent and say sacre bleu and hon hon every now and again.* I only know about enough French to sometimes be able to understand maybe half of what people are saying if they talk slowly, so I'm guessing it was the latter.
* J/K. I know that's how you actually speak French.
As I was falling asleep this afternoon there was an advertisement in English, which isn't my first language. First a short jingle that I'd never heard before, then a typical male ad voice (with that over-the-top enthusiasm) said "For the next quote 'season'.." and then it was gone.
Season of what? What are you offering? It will remain a mystery.