My dreams are infrequent, but when they make appearances, they sure do bring down the house. My latest:

I'm making a movie, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. I dunno whether I'm the director, a crewmember, or an actor, but I'm there. My girlfriend is there too, whoever she may be. It'd be nice if I could remember who she was, because not being single sounds like a very nice idea to me right now.

So anyway, for some reason, Arnie starts hitting on my girlfriend. No big deal, I trust her. I ignore it. After a while, though, it starts to get out of hand. I try to stay calm. Suddenly, I notice the musclebound lunkhead reach out and fondle her breast. She jumps back with a look of horror on her face, and I snap.

I grab a baseball bat lying near my feet, run at Arnold screaming furiously, and smash him right in the knee with every ounce of strength in my body. There's a satisfying crack! as his knee gives way, and The Terminator lets out a feminine scream as he falls to the ground, writhing in agony.

Then I woke up. Smiling. Odd, because I'm not usually violent at all. Oh well.

- | +

1.
Playing football (that's soccer to you merkins).
I was on defense, and being fairly successful at it. I managed to prevent several goals and pass the ball to our attacking players. Unfortunately, one of the opponents got past me, and despite the goalie's best efforts scored for his team. My team mates didn't seem to be that upset, so my guess is we were leading.
IRL, I don't even enjoy watching football, let alone playing it. This dream was most likely a result of me surfing through channels and spotting a montage of Sunday's goals just before getting to bed.

2.
We were in a bunker-like underground complex beneath the North Pole. Some unknown guy was giving me and a friend a tour around the place.
The rooms were quite small, with gray concrete walls and very little decoration. They weren't connected by corridors, but very small tunnels. I felt a little claustrophobic crawling through the tiny, square duct with 90-degree turns and no lights. Still, I felt this "hideout" was an extremely cool place. I kept wondering how they could keep it so warm in such a climate.
I wonder what the place was for, anyway? What's the point in building a big concrete bunker beneath the North Pole? But the one thing I love about the dreamworld is the lack of boring old logic. :)

i'm in king kullen with my friends and brandon, someone i haven't seen in over ten years. he looks the same, only more "gangsta"-like. he has over an ounce of really, really interesting looking weed on him. we decide to smoke right there, which sets off the fire alarm. everyone evacuates.

i see scott and show him how i can float by catching a breeze.

Nothing but settings for this one:

A big supermarket
containing yet another restroom
with four rows of showers.

I'm going to take this as a prophetic indication of my morning's experience of there not being any hot water in the dorm when I got up to take a shower. Brrrhaw.

Hi-res & Aes Sedai

  • Dusk, on the edge of a large field, I am presenting my portfolio of hi-res computer art to my friend and teacher, Lloyd. There is a large screen, maybe 20' by 10', and I first run through the pics to choose which ones I want to present. Many of them I discard as just filter-based crap, but I realize now that they were superb 3d renders. All of them are actually short looping animations that give the abstract pictures a dynamic realism. There's one of a lattice of air bubbles nested within air bubbles, sliding around and reflecting an infinitely fractal array of yet more bubbles. I flip past it for being so amateur. I present an abstract piece to Lloyd, a dark, sinister shot of an impossible beast straight out of a Salvador Dali painting, except this is a photo realistic animation. I'm congratulated by Lloyd and the rest of the class.

  • With a friend, we are given the clandestine task of entering a modern building by slipping through a service door. The building is the living quarters of Aes Sedai and it is one of these women who has given us our instructions. As we're casing the place, strolling around the gardens outside near the entrance, a young kid begins to haggle with us. He turns out to be a pick pocket as he grabs my bag and runs. I chase after him and eventually trap him againt a fence. Just then our Aes Sedai friend appears, transforms the boy into a dog, then leads us into the building. I and my friend seem to disappear as I am now the Aes Sedai chasing the dog down the hallway between all the Aes Sedai's private quarters. I finally catch him and bring him back to my modest room, fit for a low-ranking sorceress such as myself. I get chastised for having a dog in the building by an older Aes Sedai. Flash. It is many years later and I look around my large, luxurious room and furnishings, half-wishing for my old simple possessions. But now I am the Amyrlin Seat, the chief Aes Sedai, and I must keep the image up. Such is life. I close my eyes and visualize another place, another reality...
realization

I stood slowly and went inside. She was swinging on the front porch, eyes flashing through the last halo of daylight pulled from beyond the horizon. Nothing to say and the cold winds touched her alone. I wandered through a dream house, dark hallways floored in pine needles, soft underfoot, that whisped stories of the past as I stepped. The ceiling beyond sight, walls stacked to infinity by mine own hands, built to only to define the doors. The doors, vast slabs with bass relief carvings of beauty and torment, wood and stone that doesn't grow anywhere but the land behind my house. Sleek grey stone struck through with fractal veins of blackened green that twine forever into themselves, fantastic woods of no real name, simple beauty, purity. These are the doors I have built to the rooms of my past and they all stood open as I passed. The corridors stretch back as far as I do, into a past that is mine but not mine, memories of ancient worlds that I can see only through dusty glass. These I ignored, choosing to wander the well worn paths of this life, looking onto rooms of sharp memories, singular points of my life. I thought she was with me there, but I forgot to invite her in, so I wandered alone, not knowing that I left her behind. Then she called to me, but I didn't hear her, only echos down empty halls. When I found what I was looking for I turned to show her but she wasn't there. I couldn't understand why, and I had forgotten how to get out of the dream, it was all I could see. I woke up to the sound of silver tears falling far away.

this is the dream I had at work today

I find myself, for no earthly reason, working in a ceramics shop somewhere in Western Europe. My responsibilities include management and restocking of a variety of tiny teacups (meant for someone mouse-sized or smaller). As I am straightening the tidy piles of minute cups and saucers, a woman approaches me from behind and slides her arms around my chest. I can smell her hair and skin and feel the pressure of her breasts against my shoulderblades. I turn my head and see her face: flawless, dusky tan with deep blue (think Fremen from Dune, but only her irises are colored) with a strong chin and perfect white teeth. She's smiling at me, warmly, knowingly, and she tosses her hair (masses of rich chestnut curls) over her shoulder and rubs her forehead into the back of my neck.

From an office above the sales floor a window opens and a corpulent man leans out, berating me for mauling his daughter.

She nuzzles closer, her hands roaming my body with the familiarity of an experienced lover and the delighted surprise of a just-met smooching partner.

Her father roars his fury from the second floor.

I turn in her arms and slide my fingers into her hair as she tips her head and closes her beguiling eyes in anticipation of a kiss.

The scent and touch and taste of her lips lingers in my mind even as I open my eyes to find myself alone, standing in the predawn darkness near an empty barn.

There are other men standing around me, clad in football uniforms and helmets. They are agitated and excited, bouncing up and down in readiness for the imminent carnage to come. From within the nearby barn a car engine grumbles to life and headlights illuminate the high windows under the eaves.

I can see the dark shapes of the opposing team on the other side of the field and have time to notice that while both teams have uniforms, I am clad in only my pajamas before the car crashes through the front door of the barn in the style of any car-based road movie you care to name and lunges toward the other team. Trailing it at a respectable pace are the other members of my team and, spurred to action in this surreal and no doubt suicidal situation, I follow at a run.

There are glimpses of savagely maimed football players, bloodied headlights and tires, and a horrifying moment of vertigo when the driver's side window purrs down and a hand reaches out for me.

When I open my eyes again I am tucked into my childhood bed at home. I ache all over, and want nothing more than to know that someone found me a matching football uniform shirt. My mother assures me this is so.




The really amazing part of this dream is how vividly it stuck in my head...enough to remember it all through my shower and morning preparations for the day. The mind fairly boggles. I never remember my dreams.
Flashback

I was driving on some highway that I didn't really know. All of a sudden, I felt incapable to drive. Everything felt in slow motion. I would jerk the wheel, but the car would turn much later. Then my windshield started to melt. I came to the conclusion that I was having a major acid flashback while driving, and it was pretty scary. One by one, all of my senses started to warp. My hands gripping the steering wheel felt like they were part of the wheel and I couldn't get them out.

It was very wierd and somewhat scary. I've never had a bad acid trip, and it seems kinda bizarre that this would take place in a dream I had...

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.