Dream Log: July 16, 2000

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There were 2 houses by the beach, the people in the first had noticed that the husband in the second house was a smuggler and a drugs dealer. We took our helicopter and flew to the house while the husband was away. We tried to convince the smuggler's wife to testify against him, but she was too scared. We noticed that she had bruises, but didn't say anything; we left without any results.

The smuggler stole a briefcase with money and computers in. He took a helicopter from the office building and flew away, taking his wife with him. We pursued in our helicopter, but the smuggler wouldn't land. We warned him that we would shoot him down, but he ignored us. As we aimed our sniper gun, I realised that the wife was still in the smuggler's helicopter, but I did nothing. We shot the smuggler down; the helicopter blew up and crashed in flame. The wife walked unscathed from the wreckage and sat in the back of our helicopter after we landed. We gave her the briefcase and flew back to base.

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A different dream, later on

The house's plan was symmetrical but we had been told that there were secret rooms somewhere. I was convinced that the room in the centre of the house was the key. The room was dark, so we kept walking through without seeing if there were any secret doors. He gave me his maglite, Dream Girl held close to me as we entered the dark central room. I played the torch beam across the walls of the room and discovered that it was many times larger than the plans had described.

We called our other friends into the room (which was now fully lit) and started to explore. The rooms were on many levels, and there were lots of antique dining furniture in each room. There was an underground stream running through several of the rooms; At one end of the stream was a unicorn⁽¹⁾ trapped in a seething waterfall. None of us cared about the unicorn, instead watching the beautiful colours of the waterfall and the amazing lights that came from the end of the stream.

As we left the secret rooms, the police arrived and conversed with the owners. They couldn't see us and they looked translucent. An expert was called to the house to investigate the strange noises the owners had reported. None of the translucent people knew about or found the secret rooms. Children playing nearby knew all about us, and tried to tell the police, but were beaten away.

We followed the investigator to the front garden of the house. He said that there were people trapped from the past inside the house and that the house would need to be demolished. We shouted and tried to make ourselves heard, but the ghosts wouldn't listen to us. An old man joined us and told us that we were the ghosts and the only way to wake up was to jump down the waterfall in the secret room. Many of us were scared and wouldn't do it. I took a small kayak and put Dream Girl in it. We let the current of the stream take us to where the unicorn's waterfall was. We smooched for a while, then told each other of our love. We fell over the waterfall and the water covered us...

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(1) Yes, I saw Bladerunner last night. Does this mean I'm a replicant?

Damnit dizzy you should know better already...

-/+

Dream #1 (partial)

I'm really pissed because I had this dream down so vividly and I simply assumed that I could remember it later on. *rolls his eyes*

I was inside a pyramid and was staring at two rooms. One had the mummies (which one had already escaped) the other was a room filled with high tech equipment. I think I was part of a research team there. I remember seeing the mummy escape, but I can't remember anymore of it. Sorry.

Dream #2

I was pushing a pram with my sister. These group of surly juveniles kept giving me stares. As we got closer to Westbourne Park bus garage I finally said "Fuck you looking at me for?" to the leader. At which point he said "Are you starting something?". I grabbed in and started to punch him repeatedly in the face. He drew a knife out and I managed to disarmed him. To teach him a lesson I stabbed the knife into his hand. He screamed.

Look, I don't know what happened, don't ask me to explain. I read some Chuck Palahniuk before bed, and I'm a bit feverish, but still, sheesh.

I apologize to everyone who just wants to get to the bottom of the page. Think of what you could have been accomplishing with your life while you were fiddling angrily with the scrollbar.

- / +

• Knifegirl's Everything2 history was brilliant. An interactive timeline, listing all the great events of e2, and when everyone joined.
• I set a piece of spaghetti on fire, and then couldn't quite get it to go out. The flame was gone, but not the heat, and it was burning my fingers, and I was afraid it would burn through the table. "Hand it here," said clampe. I did. He blew on it slowly, with his eyes closed. I could feel his breath coming in a thin stream, and it was freezing. I wondered if he was the north wind.
• I tried to explain to my brother that he wouldn't be able to find us downtown just by keeping an eye out for my blanket. It would be dark, for one thing, and there would be millions of people there. He was confident he could do it. He was the age he is now, but he looked so young, about 11, but from his face you could tell he was older. I rolled him a joint. The paper wouldn't cooperate. On the way downtown we saw helicopters, unexplained, which frightened me.
• Beautiful, massive rock formations. Each one had something you could do, either climb up on top of it, or hide under the hanging-over ledge parts. They were natural, nature had given us these. We watched the rain come.
• Two kids were talking quietly, excited. I couldn't see what they saw until I got right down to the end of the footbridge. A rainbow, not in the sky, but starting right there, they had found the root of it. The boy showed me how to step a little to the side, so I could see the whole thing.  What? I don't -  And then I did, I saw it. Not one rainbow, but three, branching out from where we stood. Not three rainbows, but three and ten more in another layer under them. All the colors true and strong, unbroken clear bands beaming from us to the horizon. I knew I was dreaming and I knew I should be careful with my mind, and I was, and I got to stay.
• Our classroom was half empty, because of the war or the plague. There was one boy left and he was mine. A new girl came in and sat down with a smirk at me and an eyelid-flutter at him. She was the American Beauty girl, but younger. I wasn't worried, I saw the movie, I knew all about her. The only thing bothering me was the searchlight sweeping back and forth over the desks; it made me sleepy.
• At the 4-ring catfights with thefez. He led the way, he knew the best seats. "The Day the Music Died" pumped tinnily over the loudspeakers high up on the poles of the tent. The audience was mostly Mexicans. They offered us bottle of warm beer, and we accepted. On our way up the bleachers we stopped at terminals, checkpoints, to read nodes. Pukesick had written How to Levitate. ("Quite a privilege, really, if you can do it right.")
• I was almost asleep but I saw my mother sneaking around the living room. She lay a $20 bill on my pillow, then replaced it with a $50, then a $100. I knew she would end up giving me all three.
• I was about 11, and a boy. I may or may not have been Harry Potter. They all loved my sister and hated me, and I could prove it. My grandmother was that mean ugly lady on the Long John Silver commercial. She had come to visit but was going back home today. She had going-away presents for both of us. I opened mine too quickly, which made her angrier. It was a huge box with about three piddly pieces of candy in it, and a rock or something, some little thing to show me she hated me. Well big deal, I made up my mind not to care. My sister hadn't opened hers yet. She wasn't a bad kid, she didn't mean to be perfect, but I hated her anyway, sitting posed on the sofa in dress and hair ribbons with the present balanced politely on her knees, waiting to open hers till I was done. Grandma ripped it off her lap and slit the side open with a knife. She came toward me in terrible, threatening slow motion. She did not blink. Candy, toys, pinwheels poured out of the bottom of the box, without end. I was so terrified I had to end it, to turn my mind elsewhere.
• The tour guide showed us a door marked "Retention Center." Both of us thought it must be something horribe, a pc way of saying Solitary or Electroshock. We all went it. Turns out it was the rec room, and as we walked around I realized I'd been there before, though I didn't let on. Through the glass wall I saw an enforced game of soccer, maybe, on the back field. Half the guys had big red helmets on, bulky, like lego astronauts. I asked why and was told they contained alarms that would go off if those prisoners strayed outside the bounds. I wondered why they didn't just build a fence.

  We rounded the corner, past the snack bar (was it fair they were charging prisoners $6 for a hot dog? it wasn't like they had much consumer leverage.) into the bar filled with chatty women. The bar rotated and had one balloon tied to it, which bothered me. That damn blue balloon kept swinging round to the front, over and over.

  I was in a dress. I realized I was the best man. All right. So I went for a walk. There was a dime on the ground and I picked it up and gave it to edebroux. She laughed and found a nickel and gave it to me. I didn't say anything, but I felt a bit cheated. But from then on we only found coins of the same denomination to give each other. Seems like every time a coin left my hand, there was another on the ground. The kids caught on and gathered around greedily, scrabling for change. I went for another walk.

  I balanced on the brick edge of the fountain in the back garden. Those damn chatty women were everywhere. I overheard a woman making up twangy country-music songs for her mortified daughter, singing at top pitch about how messy and painful her birth had been.

  I headed back towards the building but ended up with my friends on a round platform. We lay on the warm stone and talked. We had to get right back up though because we were in the way of the camera shoot, the bride needed to pose. We really needn't have moved, she levitated 20 feet in the air and hung there with her arms and legs like Jesus on the cross for a minute, which everyone thought was cute. The pose she settled on was eyes cast demurely downward, hands clasped delicately around the bouquet, legs wide open. Her veil was maybe 20 feet long and her train must have been 50, white satin rippling down to pool below her on the ground. Her dress, though, was bright red, and the skirt was more like a strip of cloth around her waist, i.e., the whole world and the photographer were looking directly at her vagina. It wasn't much of a vagina. She was beautiful, with polished dark skin and a perfect figure, but her limbs moved oddly, and her vagina didn't seem to, er, open at all. Like Barbie's hard plastic seamless crotch. Still, none of us were glad she was waving it around.

  It was time to hurry. I hurried. We all crossed the grass, looking back to see the bride descend gracefully and give her father an open-mouth kiss. The groom didn't mind, he was sullen all the time. His white pants were cutaway, theater-style, for quick removal. From behind, I could see his shorts and his dark hairy legs. I went with the rest of the guys to the bathroom, on the way realizing I had a blue garter belt in my suit pocket. This made me very happy. I perched on the edge of the tub and watched the boys work.

Something about my hair. They say if i don't take better care of it, it'll be nothing but a fuzzy dull mass. I argue: it's the only beautiful thing i have, shouldn't, couldn't it be effortless? But they're gone.

I remember lying in the sun and looking up at it through my hair. The light was refracted into rainbows that faded to gold at their edges. This is true.

Somebody brushes past me in a dense crowd, muttering something about seeming and being. What?, i say, and try to catch up, but they're out of reach, and i wake up with a headache.

Two Bored Lucid Dreamers

• I'm with my friend Allen and we're hanging around a pool with some old men. I'm immensely bored.
  "Hey Allen, this dream is fucking lame. Can't we spice it up a bit?"
  "Whadya have in mind?"
  "I dunno. How about going lucid and flying to the top of that mountain?"
  "I'm not sure, dude. Every time I try to have a lucid dream I wake up."
  "Just take it slow, man. Feel how realistic these stone steps are? Just run your fingers over it."
  "Damn, that is a trip. I can feel all the little grooves and edges..."
  "Alright, now look at your hand and wiggle your fingers."
  "Ok." Poof. Allen disappears.
  "Oh well. I guess you gotta work on that..." I mount the diving board, bounce once and fly to the top of the mountain.

I very rarely remember my dreams. When I do, it is because they are breathtaking.

At 3 am, I woke up in a sweat. A nightmare. It was something very private that I'm not comfortable sharing with E2. I couldn't go back to sleep. My dream was about my Real Life, a segment of it I've been trying to avoid. When we awake from nightmares, there's always a few minutes spent trying to decide what is real and what is illusion, and then the fog of terror slowly lifts from the mind. But how can the fog ever lift when the dream is something real?

The worst nightmares are the ones you can't wake up from.