Dream Log: August 11, 2000

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I was sitting by the side of the road near my house with a good friend. It was around midnight, and we were bored.
Suddenly we got an idea: how about a nice game of golf? We took the balls and clubs and started a game right there on the asfalt.
Hitting the ball was pretty hard. Instead of putting it on a tee like you should, we placed it on a table filled with raspberries (?!?) and hit it from there, causing the berries to splatter all over. It was difficult especially because we stood on the ground while doing this, and the table was pretty high.

This was the most abstract dream I've had in a while. No LSD was ingested, so maybe the white wine consumed before going to bed was the cause?

Anonymous thugs are after these little black boys. The two boys are are on their way to do some investigating, and they take a shortcut through a mansion. They go upstairs, intending to leave through the front door, when the older one whispers, "No, come back!"
I know he can't hear anything, or see anything, but he knows that something bad is going to happen.
Shots ring out, and rays of light shine through the bullet holes, illuminating the swirling dust right where the boys had been standing.

The middle brother doesn't listen and gets shot by the thugs. Blood spatters against the wall, and he slides down it to a sitting position. The two remaining brothers are terrified, and they run back and towards the other side of the house, but more thugs arrive, coming in from all sides.

I wake up with my heart pounding, and I can't go back to sleep. I lay there for about twenty minutes, and finally just get up.

My friend called me up and told me we had to go on an expedition. I asked, "Where to?" He replied, "Outer space." This seemed all too weird, and I asked him if he could hang on. I then went to my calendar. It was very dynamic. It had spaces alotted for specific events that would be happening on what days, too organized. However, instead of looking at August 10/11, I was looking at August 20th (2 Sundays from now). Under this, I had yoga classes, underwater basketweaving, and something called JR52 (or something, I couldn't read it). When you pressed down on the calendar, a pop-up window told you what each event was. I hit JR52, and a message (this gets weird), saying "cout '"time to make the donuts.'" I had this one lucid moment in the dream, where I thought, "Syntax errors can really fuck up your calendar."

I forgot I had left my friend on hold, and rushed back and told him I was free for the day (despite that I wasn't?). He made a large exclaim of noise like in those auto-insurance commercials with the screaming customers. "I knew we'd be able to fight justice tonight with a hair curler!" I asked him what that meant and he tried to explain to me that our expedition would take us through Anchorage and Yukon. He told me he'd be over to pick me up in an hour or two and to be ready. I didn't know what to take on an expedition through Canada and Alaska, so I packed what seemed right, which really wasn't right for a dream: coffee mugs, family-size pack of condoms, one of those poiuyt optical illusion toys (you know, with the three prongs), and I think, though I'm not sure, some boxes of Ramen.

Later that afternoon, I heard a car horn honk, playing the tune of Scotland the Brave (or something close to that). I ran out the door expecting it to be my friend, but instead, it was his friend Goda, who I haven't seen since I was twelve. He blew me a kiss, and screamed something at me, but I can't remember what. The next part was hazy, something about my cat and how Adam would not be able to join us because he was tied up in the trunk. I was directed to address him as the new love of my life, and every time he looked at me, I had to kiss him. Kissing him reminded me of kissing my cat. We drove for 2 days before we reached the western U.S. and the border or Canada, and I progressed to vomit on the officer on duty, who didn't allow us to pass through. Something about Canada being a clean nation, and punks like us would just ruin things. I had a brief flash of the wannabe-punks on the escalator in SLC Punk, and I woke up.

Very strange dream indeed, perhaps due to the fall I took yesterday evening.
Something happened to me I cannot recall what it was but it was bad and it hurt. Jimmy (a friend) was there so to keep him from seeing me hurt, I ignored the pain. Finally it was too much, and I looked at my arm, and the bone was broken hanging by a very thin string. Now this was not my arm bone, this was like a kneecap bone in my arm. I wiped away the blood from the many cuts and went on. Jimmy said, "We gotta get you to the hospital, or else you'll die. Next scene airport, in large 747. Pilot says "Ladies and gentleman the flight 'blah blah' and our destination is the Houston hospital." I remember that the pilot could not fly well, and his explanation was because he'd never flown to Houston before.
And that's really all I remember.

Some of this shit just comes way outa left field.

This Indreamia is becoming an never ending story. I admit, it is not as bad as insomnia but it certainly is a big miss.

Does anyone have experience with indreamnia, and know a solution for it? I would be very happy to hear your suggestions. This write-up is dedicated to all the indreamniacs.

What i can remember it starting from.. i was being led into a court building trying to find where I was to go before a judge. My lawyer was very ignorant any hyper, and i was accompanied by a professional looking women in a suit dress thing. We came up to the court i was to be in, but they reschedule the time. My lawyer was pissed off and hauled me through the big oak doors and up to the judge's desk (in a row of maybe 5 or 6 open air concept courtrooms). The judge, an older woman, looked at my laywer and yelled for him to get out now, shaking her gavel. He ignored her, brushed behind her and started changing the court times on her laptop so we would be next. I had a feeling it was going to be bad news.

I was instantly before the judge and ordered to spend time on a tropical island. I was thrown out an airplane, my face sticking to black tar. It became difficult to look around with the sticky road pulling me back down. I saw an aboriginal child, maybe 12 come rolling over the road in the middle of the jungle who stopped to look at me. Stepping off her longboard, she smiled and helped me to my feet. I walked with her to a huge camp area filled with people that i seemed to have known.

Everything is foggy until i was on a trek with about 5 other men, hiking through the brush looking for something. One of them got his leg caught in some long logs in the river, and by the time i caught up to them he was screaming that he could't feel it anymore and was very visibly upset. He wanted some morphine or drug.. the man that was the medic came up as i was trying uselessly to get his leg out of the wood trap.

He was about to give him some medicine when he changed his mind, sitting behind him. He pulled out a hunting knife and started cutting a circle in the trapped persons chest. I looked up and told him to cut that shit out, but he gave me a look as if it were none my business. He proceeded to tell the man that he must choose somewhere else to be cut and bled, else it would be over and no medicine. The medic then threatened me and i backed off and let them deal with whatever they wanted to do to him.

Walking back to the camp the wounded man and another were strapped and tied to long tree branches and forced to walk back as prisoners. Once we got back to the camp, there was a big argument, i had a fight with the medic dude, and decided i should leave. I freed the two men and had a meal of freshly killed meat and walked back up the hill to the main road. Somehow i acquired a similar longboard, and skated down the road for a long time, looking at the black road wind through tropical forest. I came to a hill where i saw the aboriginal girl waiting. We had a brief talk of which i cannot remember then i started down the hill and speedwobbled off

The longboard arced and went into a parking lot where i chased it. It went past some family in a van and to a long cadilac with its hood and doors open.. and somehow managed to get into the trunk. I ran over and a large biker like dude told me the skateboard wasn't mine and i should leave. I looked at the family and they seemed to not notice. I grabbed the skate and yelled at the dude in the caddilac. I left with the family in the van, after chatting with them.

It turns out this family is very large and they do a lot of travelling, in fact that is all they do. I wound up in some large hotel room at the end of the island off a high cliff. I could see out tot he ocean, and an outdoor patio that was very very hiigh off the edge of this cliff. There was a projector screen and i was subjected to countless family movies of people i do not know. Then some of these people in the films actually walked into the room and sat down. One was the dude from teh cadilac and i had to fight him to keep the longbard again. I moved out to the back of the room, and everything started shaking.. i was the first to notice.. then everyone panicked.

The room tilted up and a large overweight man slid out an open window to outside. He held his hand out for someone to catch him, but i couldn't move. I just watched in horror as he fell out the window. It was about 4 stories up, and i didnt look but i heard him land and people screaming.. and at that point i woke up.

The meaning of needing to shaving in a dream

What is the meaning of needing to shave in a dream? Last night I had this mildly disturbing dream of being at a combination rave/music equipment sale. I was preparing to go into the corridor where it was being held in a hotel when I looked into the mirror and saw that the left hand of my face was almost entirely covered in a beard (but not extending onto the right hand side). Looking for a razor to shave with, I realized that I had the wrong blades for the wrong handles. I tried holding the blade with my fingers to shave with, but my mother told me to stop as it was dangerous (a cameo). I couldn’t locate anything to shave with, not even the cheap rip-your-face-apart disposables that girls use. Growing frustrated, I simply wiped it off my face with a damp cloth.

Now, I’m decent at analyzing my own dreams; especially since I understand the basic sorting functions that my brain does as I sleep. Usually if I connect-the-dots through a series of related memories and thoughts, I can see why certain things come to me as I sleep (dare I say the creation of soft-links?). But this has me mildly confused.

The dream was tense, but in that “I’m going to be late” sort of way, not in “Oh gods, my life will be over” way. I’m not particularly concerned about my looks as I realized years ago that they aren’t going to change. I don’t have any impending events or activities happening that I have to attend, nor anything that is “due” (such as late work projects). The only personal project I have hanging over me is installing this 37gb hard drive that I bought and putting together my most recent High Powered Rocket kit. But neither of those are pressured based.

The fact that I was disturbed by the hair’s presence would seem to indicate something involving looks or the impression that I might be giving others. The inability to remove it in a conventional fashion might indicate not be able to use normal channels, or that I’m trying to show people something about myself in a different way.

Oh.

Who ever said that speaking about something doesn’t help you work yourself through it?

It may very well being a showing of the dissatisfaction I’m feeling towards my writing here in Everything (it sucks to have big thoughts and a small language center). That’s interesting and at the moment, the best possibility.

How do the rest of you feel about that? Any ideas?

Surreal Flight

• I am giving a tour of my old workplace, Nokia, to my girlfriend. We run into an old friend of mine who I haven't seen for a long time.

• My mother and I board an airplane and sit in the front-most seats. We are told we have two options: we can have drinks or we can watch the second half of the in-flight movie. We choose the second option.

• I am in the movie, starring Jeff Daniels as a tour group leader at the La Brea Tar Pits. I am part of the group and we are all seated in rows of folding chairs facing Jeff, who is giving a lecture on what we are about to see. Apparently we are not here to see fossils but a building known to have the worst architecture in the world. Afterwards, we will depart La Brea for Amsterdam. We all get up to go see the building and I notice a teenage girl giving me the eye. She approaches me and I kindly inform her that she's too young for me. She smiles and walks on. Outside, I catch a glimpse of an M.C. Escher-like adobe building. Dream ends.