Categories
Dream Journal

Not That Crush

I’m sitting in the middle front seat of a car, my former crush about to drive. I use the seatbelt of the passenger seat to strap down a glass quart jar full of salty saline, quite content with the result (the jar is possibly related to some nice homemade drug that the group of us were working on and enjoying earlier). The girl gets weird about it and I gesture upwards to large round pods hanging from a nearby tree, which she picked today along with the rest us — for just this purpose. I ask her rhetorically what she thought we were going to do with them.

While we converse the car starts subtly, unnervingly rolling backwards. Suddenly it’s over the edge of a cliff,! We’re in full freefall watching the cliff recede! After several seconds of watching the overhead gap of pine boughs grow smaller and smaller, I realize there’s no bottom — we can just fall backwards forever. The view of the gap overhead will recede infinitely, and we can simply enjoy the sensation of falling. Essentially it’s just a ride, a fun ride.

Dining in a white hexagonal room separated from the main building with Mickey. Sleeping in an armchair in the common area of a house rental. There I remember a dream I supposedly had earlier, about my college girlfriend transforming, disguising herself as this wizard girl I know… Plarvolia.

It’s early light in the dawn hours now, and I hear Plarvolia puttering in her room’s closet. Through my narrowed eyes I watch her going about her morning-time business, inspecting scattered evidence from the night before. She draws near to me laying half-asleep in the chair; I close my eyes completely and still clearly perceive her moving about the rooms. Only when she leans over me in the chair (mockingly, I perceive) can I discard my pretense of sleep. At this point some heavily playful flirting happens, near kissing and the like, I’m still undressed partially from sleep. Now I can’t remember the room assignments.

It takes a long time before I remember that I was simply recalling a dream from earlier. On reflection, I don’t think this is Plarvolia — I think she’s still asleep.

Categories
Dream Journal

The Enlightenment Mutilator

Ramble around a dreamscape explaining enlightenment to self. Hazard of tripping and never coming down is you can only do it once, and it happens in idiosyncratic way. GIFof machine that takes perfectly normal bodies and distorts them into unique shapes. Suspending self above long fall, closing eyes and making fall worse and further, falling and self-upping the tortuous feelings along the way, getting creative with bad sensations, landing an inch from floor and being content with it, having two women inside me and drawing a magic wand to my crotch knowing the sensation of a clit can be approximated.

Old lady getting her bones jumped. Forgetting to clock out in Midnight Munchery. Harrison Ford.

Transition from wakefulness to sleeping mind was experienced firsthand and perceived as not terribly different.

Categories
Glot

Last Night I Dreamt

I fell off a cliff. On my bicycle. It was dark out and I was following a path. I’d been riding with a childhood friend of mine and he’d gone away, though I hadn’t noticed. But I did notice the cliff — as soon as I rode off it. It took a second to calculate how high I was, calculate my chance of survival. Zero. My heart raced and I lamented the years I’d never have. Then, instead of sheer granite and the vast unforgiving sky, I was plummeting within something soft and looking at slatted wood.

And I found myself on my bedroom floor.

my room, in sunlight