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Dream Journal

Felix Colgrave different name?

I’m offering to send friends KT and Julian postcards from other countries. But I ask them first if they’re okay with what I see is the fun part: the postcards are never from the country where I send them. So if I’m in Greece, expect a postcard from Thailand or somesuch. Well, I think it’s fun

There’s a sequence with a long zoom shot — or at least I thought it was, but The way it moves seems like that camera must be a drone. There are some great shots where waves crash over the viewing frame, demonstrating waterproofness I assume.

Does the cartoon artist Felix Colgrave have a different name?

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Dream Journal

Animation of the Corner of a Painting

I remember where our truck is parked here in San Francisco and it’s gotten a ticket by now. No need to have kept it there, but instructions led me to believe that it was necessary for that time.

I watch the corner of a painting like the Garden of Earthly Delights, a recently assembled animation which shows animals morphing. The action skips around a bit with sections that have been lost over hundreds of years.

I vacuum a fence to where there are no more dead leaves in the backyard, but it starts to feel so clean it’s not our backyard anymore. This unusually parallels actual cleaning I’ve recently done in our own backyard.

Queen Elizabeth, a law passed to make her decrees about family easier to enforce. Learning about this in the gutters of a miniature golf course.

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Dream Journal

Too Much Waiting, Not Enough Double Dream Cartoons

While the video game WarCraft 2 used flat 2-D sprites, the years-older “Warcraft: Orcs & Humans” (WarCraft 1) used a grab-bag of early 3-D tricks. I’m finally playing it and oddly, though the game is very basic, it’s more intriguing to discern the clever workarounds they came up with long ago. Pleasingly retro, as well. (Standing in front of my fridge yesterday I randomly appreciated the deep lore they were able to produce in those games, simply by creating the series for so long.)

When my Uncle John is frustrated about having to move, I’m able to share an anecdote about how, when the show wrapped, the sets for “Seinfeld” were almost immediately converted for use on the show “Friends” (I learned this yesterday; it was actually Full House)

Waiting on my motorcycle at a left turn signal. I leave, crossing to the sidewalk when I realize how long I’ve waited. Suddenly I realize it’s essentially just abandoned in a traffic lane now. Going back, I see I even left the key in the ignition. The back compartment must be repacked now (of course it does). I rejigger the back case’s mounting plate and straps, all while standing in front of a line of unusually patient cars also still waiting to turn left.

I’ve been fiddling with nose ring intermittently for most of the dream. It finally splits near the tip, coming off in my fingers just as I realize how long I’ve been fiddling. Still, it seems like it should be able to fit again, but the gauge at the break is inconveniently flat instead of round. It won’t fit in the piercing hole, and repairing something that stays in my skin seems like a non-starter.

In a jaunty Nickelodeon-style kids cartoon, one friend has fallen asleep in the shower. As his friend, and sensing an opportunity for mischief, I hide in the shower drain. Since my friend doesn’t wake up I start saying odd things in an affected strange voice, which reverberates through the drain pipe. Zooming into his dream I appear there as a semi-distorted subway announcer — ignored, as most subway train announcements usually are. I notice other characters from our cartoon have been animated in his dream as more realistic adult humans — stylized and shapely enough to evoke sexual lust, innocently but not incidentally. Rule 34 on hot double-dreamt cartoons.

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Dream Journal

Unexpected Flat Tire, Unexpected Kid, Unexpected Insult

Filing out of a speaking performance, rows of white plastic chairs. Staying behind to talk with the presenter for a few moments alone.

Afterwards I’m at Rainbow Grocery nearby — or maybe it becomes Rainbow Grocery? A cool collection of recent cartoons is posted on one wall. Pretty art, clipped out by employees just for fun. The store is wider, bigger than it was before. This is a bit after the pandemic is over (so sometime in my future).

I parked a borrowed white BMW out the further lot. The thing is refreshingly nice to drive. I chat with a knowledgeable elderly car salesmen out by the BMW, until we realize two of our very short diameter tires are flat. The car has enough spares it first appears, but one is labeled as “only for testing” and remains attached to it’s swingarm… the damn thing turns out to have perfect little punchholes all around the tire so you can’t actually drive on it. So I must come back tomorrow to fix the wheels and retrieve the car. And I have to figure out a different way home today.

My wife discovers source of her recent hunger and bloating is because she’s been pregnant for three months, since December (which makes this March). It’s late enough that a decision should be made soon. I imagine the timeline of if we actually had a kid, when life events would happen for them.

Back at Rainbow Grocery the next day. Addressing not just the car, but the entire situation, I read out a large list I’ve made — one thoroughly indented with multiple sub-options for each option. “Bajoran explosion” is used on the list as a pejorative. I note the faux pas when I notice the reaction of a nearby Bajoran team member.

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Dream Journal

Russian LGBT, Cartoon Dog for Time Travelers

In my teenage bedroom. A river of ghosts, like a circular racetrack. From the direction of the closet someone says say “that’s us”, then two hand-carved reggae dolls kiss.

(I don’t remember what this means, but: reincarnated as ghost and as colored lights, eaten by a shark to complete the dream sequence.)

Accusing Putin of being gay due to his homophobia, but contemplating the ethics of outing someone even when they’re hurting their whole community. I think this while I’m scraping flakes and microSD cards off of my red metal thermos/cup. Congressional Democrats now have the push to reconsider a Russian LGBT bill, while I look over a box of bottles.

Still in the bedroom, I ask a future traveler as he prepares to return, “hey have you heard of the 80s cartoon — sorry, 1980s kid’s cartoon movie All Dogs Go To Heaven”? I gesture toward two stickers on a filling cabine, different characters named Union Jack: one an actual British person, one a floppy-eared dog from that movie. To prove my point, the time traveler does recognize the dog.