I was in a large oriental mansion where my apartment building in New York should have been. It was a party, and I remember having to go somewhere with a sense of urgency. My mother told me to follow her, and she climed down into a wooden crawlspace passage that ran underneath the pavement outside. I started to go down, and I looked in the passage. There were three ways to go - the middle, or two on each side. I told someone that the middle passage was too small, and they told me to take the side passage. So I went in, and started crawling.

Time Shift

I was being chased by some Chinese dude around the same mansion. It wasn't a party anymore. This guy was the leader of something, and he was pissed off at me. I ran, kicking people's asses along the way.

For some strange reason, I stopped and hid somewhere, and masturbated into a ziplock bag. Once I was finished, I closed the ziplock bag, folded it up, put it in my pocket, and resumed my escape.

The Chinese guy finally caught up to me, and I had no choice but to fight him. He tried to do a move with his leg, but I caught him and twisted his leg around. His bone broke, and protruded through his skin. Yikes. He kneeled over in pain, and I held his arm in such a way that if I turn it a certain way, he hurts a lot more. He didn't give up. I don't remember how I killed him, but I think I did.

Later, I was in the mansion ready to kick the new leader's ass, and he was being civil to me. I remember saying "It's easier to be friends than enemies." and we went back to having a nice time. (Wow, why can't I be that wise in real life? Remember, folks. If you use that quote, attribute it to my brain.)

Time Shift

I had a girlfriend. (I should have known it was a dream right there.) For all intents and purposes, she was Neve Campbell. She looked like her and sounded like her.

She was in the parking lot working on what seemed to be art homework. She was locked out of her house. I went up to the door, and sure enough, it was locked. There were a group of people who came by, and neither I or Neve knew who they were, but they somehow belonged there. They were also pissed the door was locked, so they decided to go look for a key. Out of the group of like 5 or 6 people, all I remember clearly is the guy who was a real asshole.

Neve was sitting on a car bumper working on her stuff, and that car was sitting right next to my Mom's minivan. She left her lights on, and I thought the driver-side door was locked, but it wasn't. So I shut the lights off. Then I went with the group of people to find a key.

We were all piled in a regular van or something, and we were all following the asshole. He was driving one of those new-car transport trucks, and he was steering from the top front-most car. He rounded a sharp turn, and the top car fell off. I said "Welp, see? I told you." We stopped and got out, and he was lying out covered in blood. I cleaned the blood off the clean parts of his face, and told him to relax, and that the ambulance was on the way. I think I remember telling someone to call 911. I also kept pressure on an open wound both on the middle of his forehead, and the side of his face.


Noder's Note: The rest of the night was a blur, but this was one of the longest dream sets I've remembered in my entire life. Wow.

Had a real doozy: Some friends and I were off at this colony of savages, endeavouring to teach them in the ways of righteousness. I forget exactly why, but my friends and I made a plan to make off with all that money - there were about six of us. It would take a full-scale strike operation. We came up with a plan and resolved to meet in the morning for final preparations, and to make sure we really wanted to do it. Sarah and I decided that night that we weren't up for it and would say so in the general meeting. We got there in the morning and they were running out of the main building with two suitcases; they'd already gone in and done it. Torn between a chance to come into lots of money, and sticking around to get killed with sticks by the natives, I jumped in Nicole's car and we started driving down the highway, the straightest, bleakest highway known to man, beast or appliance.

I looked behind and noticed that there was money - lots of money - coming out of the trunk, where the suitcase was. We hadn't closed the zipper on the case and the speed of the car was whisking our money away. We didn't care so much at first because there was so much in the bag, but when we got to a small town and opened it up there was only a couple of handfuls of bills left.

Next thing I knew I was at home, talking on the phone to a police officer and I knew I was done for. I was figuring I'd probably get off easier than the others because I wasn't there for all the violence and robbery part of it, but I still got that arrested-sinking feeling I always get when I'm arrested in dreams.

The rest of the dream involved replaying the previous events, from different camera angles. Quelle trip..
bits and pieces, here and theres:

My grandma Mulhall knows Gary the Bear, and has a wooden beartag just like mine, though not from Evans Lake, of course. "You know the Bear?" She nods in surprise. "Isn't he great!" I say, as I run upstairs to find my staff beartag. A few false starts, pulling out old nametags that weren't made by the Bear, but finally I find it, my treasure. Staff and workparty at Evans Lake camp get nametags made by Bear. Campers and counsellors-in-training just make their own. As workparty a happy ritual is to spend the very few idle hours sitting on the porch of the rec hall, sanding off a wooden round so that Bear's permanent markers won't blur when he draws on it. BROOKE Evans Lake 1996. I was so proud. I mention to gramma that I also have a big Top Camper plaque made by Bear, but we don't have time to look at it.

As I wake up, I wonder idly what Bear is up to. He was a gym teacher during the year and one of three camp directors in the summers. I've heard that he's retired, and I know there's a new head director at Evans Lake.. Matt, wonderful matt.. and even that gossip is old old old. I somehow can't believe that Bear would give up the camp without dying first. He was increasingly crotchety as the years went by, but the campers never saw that. He was full of energy at campfire, full of knowledge about Evans Lake and the surrounding demonstration forest and trails and hikes. He had a canoe called Lady, and whenever Mrs. Abe wasn't around, he'd tell the kids how Lady had nice curves, how he loved stroking in Lady.. 10 year old kids lap up sexual innuendo like chocolate. He made the bear tags, he'd take us snowshoeing across the lake at wintercamp, he loved spaghetti. God I miss that camp.

I dreamed too of being in a school. A young boy with short light hair was solemnly radiating joy in my presence at me. That's the best I can describe it. His face I remember alternatingly as two boys I know: Ryan, Wallace; but I know it was neither, and yet I know also that it was somehow someone I know. It reminds me of a dream I had many years before, where I ended with my head securely held in the lap of an unknown person. Though his face never resolved and though I didn't feel that way at the time, I have over the years become certain that it was a gordon I know. I sometimes wonder if perhaps there is some connection we can make in dreams that eludes us in waking. (but not like the creepy Eckankar cult does it..) Ahh, well. Anyhow, this boy was inuiring after my class schedule. I had a hazy uncertain time of remembering what classes I was taking. I didn't know, but I spent some time trying to deduce what I wold have registered for. He beamed at classes we would have together, nodded sagely at classes he had and I did not. I felt certain I would, not that day, but on some day, hold his hand and never let go, and watch the shining years go by together. In the beginning of Tuck Everlasting there is a passage that stands out always in my mind in the introduction, about the blank white dawns of August, and that's how he made me feel. Strange and peaceful. Strange and at peace.

I dreamed, too, of gordon: he was hanging upside down and playing the flute. I asked him why and he told that if he didn't from time to time, all the music would get stuck in his feet.

Good dreams.

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