I woke up several times last night, and as morning crept in, I dreamt that I was driving a Ford Contour - dark shiny blue and shaped just like a VW New Beetle. I had driven up to Dairy Queen and was getting myself a Blizzard and decided to chat with the ice cream guy. I went back to my car to discover that all four wheel wells (which were somehow fused to the fenders) had been removed from the car, and that the wheels themselves were gone - I was left with a dismembered vehicle.

I walked next door with my ice cream to the auto repair shop, and asked them to take a look at my car. I drove it over on its stubby little axle ends. They told me it would take at least 13 hours to fix it. I sat in the driver's seat and started fiddling with my cell phone, wanting to call work to let them know I would not be in. I couldn't figure out how to make an outgoing call, and so the dream just continued in what felt like an endless upward spiral of escalating stress.

We were out in the forest, at an interpretive center or something. For some reason, someone had made an interpretive center based on crucifixion. There was a big tree with a plastic replica of Jesus nailed to it. Someone told us that someone was even going to be crucified while we were there. I wasn't too excited about the prospect, and I liked it even less after they told me that I was going to be the one crucified. I had to carry the big heavy bar that they nail your hands to, but they ended up just nailing me to the other side of the tree that they had the fake Jesus on. I then woke up (without dreaming of the pain and suffering inherent in being crucified), but I was still in a dream. I told my English prof about the dream I had had, and she told me that it was interesting.

I then finally woke up for real. I made the mistake of reading the writeup by dolphinboy under crucifixion last night. No more noding and pizza before bed for me!

I was in the library, and my supervisor was talking to me about how I'd missed work on Saturday. I told him that the shuttle that had taken me into town had gotten in late, and I had been unable to wake up the next day. He didn't think that this little story was a good enough explanation, so he starts yelling at me. It was something like this.

"Whydon'tyoucometoworkontime?YoushouldbehereorIshouldfireyouandhityouintheface!"

Of course, I didn't take too well to that, and I said, "Hey, this is a library. People are studying, try to keep it down." Then I put my index finger up to my lips and gave him a 'shh.'

He just started screaming at me...

"This... is not a library! This... is... a discotech club! Now get up there and dance!"

So... I did. The counter in front of me was actually a bar, or so I realized when I looked at it again, and my supervisor seemed to be suggesting it... so I jumped up on it and started dancing. Then, this guy in a cowboy hat accidentaly spilled his beer. I slipped in it and fell off the bar, I was about to bang my head on a stool when I woke up...

I didn't even get any tips...

I was lying with Aaron on his waterbed holding his hand and singing, "it had to be you". Like Friday, he was wearing red and I was wearing blue. We just lay there and drifted on the bed holding hands. It was terribly sweet.

After that, I was on a bus headed for downtown Los Angeles. For some reason, Bill Gates was on the bus, about three seats ahead of me. Some enviromentalists on the bus were complaining about his plans to build a new Microsoft facility in Seattle. Bill and I started talking and writing each other notes in a journal. In the dream he was terribly witty and quoted Shakespeare. He then got off of the bus and I got out at the Macy's in downtown LA to buy Aaron a present.

Angel was showing me her new tarot deck. it has over a hundred cards, none of which I'd never seen the like of before. One of the suits was creatures, beautifully illustrated with litle critturs involved in heroic deeds.

She tells me that if I sort the suits in order, the pictures of each will tell a story. For the length of the dream, though I am constantly flipping through the cards, I am unable to sort the cards or discern the master-plan of their design. I am still not sure just how many suits and arcana it contained. Now that I think of it, it was a lot like a Magic the gathering deck.

She stands close to me and asks me about people that I haven't seen in years, people that I thought she would have kept in contact with. I lost touch with her and the rest of them several years ago.

I was in bed with Pamela Smart, in my room at my mother’s house. We laughed, and fooled around for a bit, then took a break to have a cigarette or two. I hadn’t seen her since we were in grade six together, and I remembered that she had wanted to be a teacher back then. I wondered if she was still planning on doing it.

We returned to bed, and I marveled at how she acted just like Jessica. It occurred to me then that Jes might not appreciate my behavior towards Pam... Jes was off filming a new movie, I think it was a Lord of The Flies remake, and she was one of the people who get killed off early on.

After Pam and I had finished, she asked me how she was in bed. I told her she was great, and asked how I was. “Well,” she said, “I enjoyed it, but I didn’t see God, or anything...”

...

I was a superhero, with Maggie the Sheepdog as one of my sidekicks, and some mystery fellow as another.

Somehow, I ended up getting into a fistfight with Bruce Campbell, who was going out with one of my female acquaintances... And that’s when it dawned on me; Bruce Campbell isn’t human. “He’s a demon,” I thought to myself, as he continued to beat me down, shrugging off even my mightiest super-blows...” I gotta warn everyone, he’s not human....”

I think he dumped my body in a grain silo.
I haven't remembered any dreams in at least a week. Then, last night, I slept on the couch, instead.

  • Chrinos Furby: I was at a party, and I had brought my furby. It's evil, I know. Anyway, it started talking much more fluidly and coherently than normal, and it was chanting evil phrases and picking up all the girls. It also got really big. I think I defeated it by taking out its batteries.
  • The argument we never had: This one was very depressing. I woke up feeling like crap. It started as a typical erotic dream about an ex; it was decidedly one-sided, like sex with her usually was. But then I was back to moving from my old house, and she was there helping me move. (Lots of people pitched in, which of course didn't happen). She wound up chatting with this slutty girl that used to hang out at LARPs, picking up the gamer geeks for sport, even though they didn't really get along in real life. I overheard them talking about a new guy that my ex was fucking. Now, my ex decided she was gay sometime in the middle of our relationship, so this obviously pissed me off. I took her outside and yelled at her, which is something I never did. Something I never asked her, I asked her in the dream: "Who else did you fuck when we were together?" I've always wanted to know, because I've always had suspicions. But she never answered me. The truth is that I know for a fact that she was sleeping with another male ex while I was in California, despite her lesbianism. But she never told me, which is one of the many reasons I decided to stop even trying to be friends with her. All in all, it was a very depressing dream.

My life was stuck on fast forward. Over the next year, one by one, my friends faded out of my life.

The next ten years are very lonely for me. As an overgrown boy scout, I have zero appeal to women my own age. I make no new friends. eventually I end up on prescriptions to deal with this depression, always moving on to stronger and stronger [drugs.

Once I am well into my thirties, I am financially well off. At this point women start looking for a "nice guy" (finally!) and their attention turns toward me. I end up falling for the first woman that pays much attention to me, and we are married within six months. I am happy, and am finally able to stop depending on drugs to get through the day without killing myself.

A few months later an old friend calls me. Apparently she has realized that I was worthwhile, and wants to get together with me. I tell her how happily married I am, at which point she tries to talk me into having a torrid affair. She nearly succeeds (maybe she would have if we had been talking in person), but I am loyally commited to my wife.

A week later she asks for a divorce.

Apparently I haven't been fulfilling her sexual appetite, she is tired of dealing with such a "clumsy and inexperienced" lover. I was too love-struck to ask for a prenup, so this has the potential to be financially ruinous as well as emotionally devastating.

While we are in Divorce Court, I find security camera footage of her fucking some 19-year old jock. Apparently he's a more experienced lover than I.

After this I am very cynical of the women who claim to be looking for a "nice guy". I accuse many of them of being gold-diggers. I'm back on drugs, both prescription and illegal this time. I develop a more callous exterier over my "nice guy" core. This dark period lasts about five years.

By now I'm about fourty. I finally let my guard down, and fall in love with a wonderful seeming woman. I propose, and she tearfully accpets. A few months later, she leaves me when I insist on a prenuptual agreement. I don't know for certain whether she was a gold-digger or just offended by the concept of a prenup.

I am on a city bus much larger than any I have ever been on before. There are two black men walking up and down the aisles singling some jazz tune. One of them asks me what key should they sing in. For some reason I say G and he seems to agree and smiles a bit, nodding. They are trying to get everyone else to sing along but nobody knows the words. All they can do was hum along and sing out the chorus.
When the bus stops I step into the aisle to get off and find that I'm standing behind a good friend of mine. She is swinging to the music and wearing a silver slink-dress that I once saw her in. We both step off the bus in the middle of traffic, still dancing, and I realize that we are in front of her house, which is across from the one that I used to live in. Strangely, since I was here last it seems to be converted from a suburban neighborhood into a metropolitan center. It looks somewhat old though, brick buildings looking like they came out of a New York borough and large sidewalks.
I follow my friend off the bus, still mesmerized by her silver dress and its motion around her body, and walk into traffic. We get off in the middle of the road and traffic is unsure as to whether they should stop for us or not. My friend in the sliver dress jumps onto another bus and I almost follow her but instead decide to stay here for a while. I wait for a crossing signal and when it shows me a green hand I go. Traffic consists of all new cars that are made to resemble old cars. None of them seem to notice the traffic signal and I have to jump over some of the cars to avoid being hit. A line of three white a red autos, all tailfins and side skirts, looking like a vision of the future circa 1955 speeds past me and I have to jump in rapid succession in order to avoid being sliced up by futuristic chrome and jet fins. During this I am still bouncing to the jazz tune the two men were singing. I think I know the words or I'm just making them up as I go.
On the street by the corner an extended family is having their picture taken by an old man with a camera that was state of the art in 1915. They are all smiling and I almost walk into their picture before stopping and smiling apologetically. They are already smiling and just turn towards me, looking very happy to be all together. Some of the younger children wave and I wave back. After the picture is taken I walk over to my friends house and go in.
Upstairs I meet a man whom I've never met but he seems to know me so I just play along. He is old and fat, and talking to me about his large music collection. I bad muzak version of “Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner” plays out of his small stereo. We talk for a while and then he gives me keys to his house, saying “You're always welcome here if you need somewhere to stay. You know its already started. We need to be prepared when this all comes down.” With that he gestures out the window and I see its become darker and the streetlamps have come on. He shows me down to a basement door where I walk across a thin catwalk spanning across a large cavern lit by halogens and filled with enormous machines. Although I thought he had left me the fat man is still behind me and he starts pointing to each machine “That one controls the weather, that one controls the flight patterns of migratory birds, that one writes best-selling novels.” Each one has some sort of function: caribou population, surges of religion and faith, cricket chirps-per-minute. After about fifteen minutes of this he trails off. I ask him if there's one that controls traffic and he smiles. “We’re working on that one” is all he says to me.

Time Slipping

  • A forested property on the California coast north of Santa Cruz. I'm with my friend Allen, chatting and watching the sunset over the ocean. I tell him that I heard our friend August was leaving for South America soon. Then I get a funny feeling and watch as Allen fades out and August fades in. I have travelled in time but remain in the same physical location. I tell August what just happened but soon I am slipping away again and now with August and Allen together in yet another moment months or years away. Another slip and I'm definitely years into the future, in the aisle of a grocery store in the same spot. Shelves of food tower on either side of me. But even as I get my bearings it all begins to fade away. I find myself back with Allen, when I was originally. I tell him what I've just experienced and discover I am able to will myself into an in-between state where multiple temporalities are superimposed on one another. I feel that I can intentionally travel to any point in time within my life, though it's easiest to maintain the same physical location. I am a time traveler rediscovering my latent abilities.
I'm in my grandmother's new apartment. We find out she was never a clutterbug, she just needed a bigger apartment - everything looks tidy and dignified in this new apartment, exactly the same as the old one only 50% bigger in every direction. Gramma says her only regret is that uncle norman doesn't have any furniture now, but she'll buy him new furniture.

(uncle norman has been living in grandma's old apartment for a year and a bit now since grandma died.) (it's really really weird to wake up convinced you just spoke with your deceased relatives.)

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