I don't have dreams very often, so here goes. I'll try and get it down before it fades away completely.

Another of my epic dreams.
It starts of and I'm in a campsite but with chalets. I was going to someone elses chalet for a barbeque. To cut a long story short, a load of drug dealers (?) came along and forcibly removed some gold jewellery. Me being the good person I am, grabbed a set of car keys and gave chase in a metallic blue Ford Scorpio. I caught up with them half way to Sheffield, on the motorway and forced them off the road and grabbed the bag full of gold from them. Since my car was now broken, I stole theirs (since they were trying to run away from me down the motorway and finished the journey to sheffield.
Sheffield looked nothing like the real one so I got out and started riding around. I suddenly realised that I was being followed by a teenage kid and his 2 MI6 minders, obviously assesing his performance. I started cycling like a madman, trying to shake them off. When I did, I was on the upper tier in a 2 story shopping mall so I ducked in to one of the shops (a bookshop, with my bike) and made my way down the stairs. At the bottom I was confronted with the boy who I now recognised as Harry Potter and his 2 minders. He was holding a bag of golden trinkets. These were the remainder of what was stolen I quickly lifted my bike onto its back wheel and smashed the front into Harry's face. He sent down unconcious so I took the back. At this point the 2 minders took out a pistol each and shot Harry in the chest. I understood that it was because he had failed his mission so I just tried to get out and get home. The agents didn't stop me.
I cycled out of the city and hit the motorway (on my bike) but I was safe enough because it was jammed and I could do what I wanted. Eventually I pulled off at my exit onto a winding road that could have come out of north Wales. I noticed the backdrop of the hills surrounding Marsielle in France. I carried on down this road until I encountered obstacles which I then proceeded to avoid by riding around them until I got to a big gap in the road, at the bottom of which was a big lava flow. I had to get across if I wanted to go home. Along the side of the gap was a brick wall about chest high, with small pillars every 1 1/2 metres or so. I just climbed on the wall and hauled my bike up, balancing it on the wall and pushing it ahead of me. I was just trying to get my balance properly when the alarm went off and I woke up.

I'm sitting on a grassy knoll with a lot of people--I think this is a cross between a Tanglewood concert and a school reunion. I'm there with two friends, both from school, neither from real life: one is my boyfriend, who is kind of scrawny, and the other is our best friend, also a guy, who is rather built.

When my boyfriend goes away, the best friend and I have a moment and almost kiss. But I shy away, and when the boyfriend comes back, I kiss him passionately instead.

Later, we are in some hallway inside the school, sitting on a wide bench. I lean into the best friend and he starts touching me, and I rock, all the while touching hands and sharing golden energy with my boyfriend, threesome style.

I had a really, really fun and incredibly detailed dream last night. As I write this, I can't get over the detail of the surroundings, as well as the conversation.

I'm walking down a hallway thinking about the abrupt end of some Star Trek: TNG episodes that cut off the actor describing something. (Something about Deanna Troi explaining scissors, and another about her explaining about a "Tea Pin", whatever that is.)

I walk into a large room with lots of tables. People populate the room at different tables, and I make my way over to a table with familiar faces. I sit down. The tables are rectangular, about the width of two people. Each table has five chairs.

      3 4 |
   5 |    | Wall
      1 2 |

I sit down at 2. Across from me at seat 4 is Commander William T. Riker. To his right is Counselor Troi. Lieutenant Tasha Yar sits at 5. We talk about stuff, and I bring up my previous thought about the cut-offs.

Our drinks arrive, and are served to us by none other than Captain James T. Kirk, looking as he did in TOS.

"Thank you, Captain." I say.

Kirk looks at me and says "Shame on you...for wearing your rank pips in such a mess." and he walks off. I reach up and feel my rank pips with my fingers.

Riker looks at me, eyebrows raised, sporting a half-smile. "He's right."

I realize this tunic used to belong to Riker, and I smile. "If that's how they are, then that's how you left them. I wash this shirt with the pips on, so I don't have to keep taking them off and putting them back."

Deanna and Will both smile. He works his jaw thinking of a comeback.

I look over at Tasha, and she's wearing one of the newer uniforms. (The ones with the color at the shoulders, and the rest is black.) She's also wearing Worf's sash. The conversation turns to the sash.

I look at it, and say "I always thought it was Klingon, then I thought it might be Starfleet. And I remember in the alternate universe episode, it attached to a belt around your waist."

The dream starts to fade at this point, and I think we're called to duty. We get up, and start to walk out as everything fades away.

A horribly scary, yet completely incoherent dream. First, you need to know that I got my license just about a month ago, and I'm trying very hard not to do anything stupid to lose it. Here goes:

I'm driving around in a parking lot, and I find a space into which to park. I back into the parking space (in a white 4Runner, the car I drive), and almost hit a small Hispanic girl, about eight years old. Her mother runs up to the window and starts screaming at me. I paniced, backed into the wall behind the parking space, threw the car into drive, and swerved out of the parking lot. I drove, for a long time. Somehow I made it to Yosemite Valley...I was driving my car aroudn the forest, trying to hide from the police who were following me. Eventually, I was caught and brought to trial...in the outdoors at Yosemite. The woman whose child I almost hit was screaming at the judge and me, and miraculously, I ran to my car unnoticed, and drove off. I drove to an apartment building where my friend lived, and I asked if I could "chill" for a while there while this whole case settled down. I stayed there for about a month, until one of his neighbors called the police, claiming to see me there. This fat officer came in with a flashlight and a bucket of paint (???). He walked in all of the rooms except for the one I was in and left. When I got up, he came out of nowhere and said "frmhdmd!!" He started chasing me and I jumped out of a window. I landed in the mall and hid in a clothing store. I was finally caught by an undercover cop.
After a long trial, my license was revoked fo-eva, and I was put in jail for five years. After four years, I starved to death. The End

Sexy DJ: I had set up a new goth club with a friend of mine, which we're actually working to do in real life. She was there, along with an awful lot of people I didn't know. The DJ, however, was a beautiful goth/rivethead girl and completely had my attention. Since I ran the club, it wasn't at all weird for me to walk up onto the DJ platform, stand behind her for a while, and undress her with my eyes. Only when I did that, she suddenly really was undressed. She smiled at me, and that meant it was ok to touch her, so I did. It was very erotic, just touching her shoulder and arms, lightly, just trying to turn her on. It went on like that for a while, with her only paying half attention to me, but also spinning records for the club. It went on like that; it should have been frustrating, trying to get her attention, but it was really erotic, too.

Dreamt between the hours of 6 pm and 10:50 pm, EST:

In a city, walking down a street that I don't actually see, but I know it's a street because I can sense the flying rats, the skyscrapers, the passerbys. Actually, I see some pigeons, flying and pecking about. It is quiet besides the white noise distinct to cities and it's boroughs. We're not in the heart of downtown, but rather in a commecial/residential area, kind of like Lincoln Ave in Chicago.

I walk by some wrought iron tables and chairs, reminiscent of an outdoor setting of a cafe or bistro. I do not know if the restaurant is even there, but the few chairs and table are. They are on concrete, there is a concrete corner behind the chairs, along with the average amount of crumpled papers, bent straws, and crumbs. The city is the gray of the concrete and the table and chairs are black.

The weather is in the 70s, very little wind, and mostly cloudy (I never saw the sky. I only know this because of how things appeared on the ground). In fact, I do not remember any shadows, so perhaps it was near midday.

Giving a fleeting glance to the concrete corner, I notice something out of the ordinary. It is a Yellow-Headed Amazon Parrot lying in distress. The bird must have somehow flew out of a window or door or was blown away by a slight breeze. It is lying on its right side. I go over and discover that it is choking on a plastic wrapper. I do not know how it got this wrapper.

I gently remove the wrapper from its mouth and pick it up. The feathers on its lower belly have been plucked and the skin is visible, a sign of psychological distress due to abuse or neglect. Also, a lot of its under feathers, or "down", are sticking out on the back of its head at the base of the neck. There are no more abnormalities that I notice.

I take the bird home and am very upset that this bird has been lost or released, for it has no way of surviving in this concrete jungle. The bird heels slowly and I try and introduce it to my blue front. They do not take kindly to each at first, my first bird feeling that his territory has been invaded and the rescued bird probably just trying to get back to normal. The rescued bird's feathers have grown back and its coloring is brighter with proper feeding and environment.

And then I woke up and wanted to see how the new bird was doing. My dreams are so realistic or close to reality that I can hardly differentiate between the two.

There are four enormous furry spiders in the den. Augh! I get them in a cage. They're trying to kill each other, or mate. In one pair, it's hard to ever tell. In the larger, fuzzier pair, it becomes disturbingly obvious, as huge hairy spider phalluses come in to play. Ew, ew, ew. For some reason, I let two out of the cage. They're not as scary as normal spiders, but I'm still very nervous. They move instantly. For a moment they look like small black and white kittens and don't seem so bad, even cute, but then they're spiders again. For one horrifying moment after I spook them there are two fuzzy spiders on my neck. AUGH! I tear them off and run to the living room to ask mom and dad if I can release four enormous spiders in to their garden. Mom is reluctant - ack, giant spiders! But finally decides better the garden than the house. I go back, but I can't get them all in their cages again. Augh I don't like it.

I'm going to meet a friend I haven't seen in years, Doctor X, for coffee. We decide on a picnic in the dark. I suggest the good ol' cross-country running meet at some high school. It's dark the whole time, but big races are there. My boyfriend and I enter the races and run, run, run! At one point we're in 8th place, hurray. For most races we don't place in the top 100, but that's okay. We run race after race, which is more than most people do. There are small chinese children who are incredibly fast and everyone has colourful slightly luminescent ribbons. I head to the hill and curl up in Doctor X's lap. Something seems wrong. I realize: Doctor X isn't my Boyfriend! Joe is my boyfriend. How did I get so mixed up? Where did Joe go after the races? I thought he was where Doctor X is somehow. I walk away, confused. I run in to a young woman and a strange old man. They have jumping/flying bikes. Joe is here! At first we think they are just good jumpers, and the bikes fly up 20 feet under their own power. Heck, Joe demonstrates how to do that. But then the woman shows us how they can hover, and it's true, they're magic bikes. Joe and I apparently have an aptitude for it, which is why Joe could make his bike jump up 20 feet - he isn't really that strong. We bounce around on bikes in the covered area of the school.

Rowan (p_i)has a cake! He's had it for years - I remember it when it was new - but now the silver wire surrounding it is broken. Aw. I try to fix it. The metal thing is coming undone and is sharp in places. I tsk tsk. We are backstage in the kitsilano high school auditorium. While I try to mend his cake, we discuss knives. I suggest a swiss army knife. "But the trick is to get one that isn't like, huge." Rowan nods. Currently he has the biggest swiss army knife ever, and it's very inconvenient. Plus, he'll so never use the corkscrew. "The glass-breaker will never screw back in to the corkscrew - piece of junk!" I try to thread it back on, but it's true, it's bent permanently. "Get one with two blades, and scissors. That's all most people ever use. Add anything you'll use regularly, but no gidgety crap!" I go back to the cake. I manage to get the wire fixed! But now the cake is very flat for some reason. It's a third as tall as it once was - each layer is so flat! Oh well. At least the guardrail is there - it'll be safe to keep in his backpack now. I wander off. Rowan warns me "be careful of your diction - the ambassadors are very sensitive of their english!" I get to the airline check-in counter, and sure enough, the friendly ambassadors (now normal looking human men) have a strange accent, very hollow and lots of "gw" sounds. I stoicly avoid adopting their accent, though it seems natural to. We go to the gymnasium. They are now aliens that look like the whatsit silicon creature in that old Star Trek show that Spock mind melded with. The horta? Anyhow. I wear a uniform and jump around, lighting things up. They're pleased. The klingon pair comes in to try to take me out for tea, but they are kindly rebuffed.

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