Tag: father-in-law

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Dream Journal

Metal Action Movie Bullshit

I’m in an enclosed all-metal structure, reminiscent of a labyrinth. As I proceed through, around the corner some Marvel movie bullshit starts happening in the next room — lasers firing, superhuman karate, epic scale fighting (way above my pay grade). Reasonably, I’m skeptical that a normal human like me should be anywhere at all nearby. I take a left and crawl down a long sloped metal corridor, a blind curve down a ramp. I start to get scared/worried, actually. For awhile there it’s pretty uncertain whether I’ll be able to make myself go all the way down the ramp. It doesn’t help that I see flashing blue and red lights from the end of the tunnel, indicating there’s some heavy police presence outside for whatever nonsense is going down inside.

I manage to make it out, playing it cool for the gaggle of bored-looking cops standing around at the tunnel exit, on a pleasant terrace adjacent to the structure. Quite soon after me a female friend emerges from the tunnel — she must’ve been right behind me. She asks what the holdup was, if I got frightened or something. Ummm… I try to play it off once again, but consider going on a rant about whatever the fuck superhero garbage we had to deal with. The person I’m speaking to is one of my friends, Reecy or Jessica from La Paz, maybe both in one form. I don’t know the significance of either.

It’s time to take it easy for the moment. I sit at a bench with my father-in-law at the edge of an unused race track, chilling in the sun on a slow afternoon in Sacramento. I’m waiting for something , so now we’re waiting together. As we sit, I watch a massive metal bird made of spare parts loft a monster truck into the air in it’s janky mechanical claws. Oh, right, there’s a destruction derby going on in the stadium next to the track. We both glance at each other, sharing the same thought — it’s highly entertaining to watch, but since my wife is away it would only disappoint her to describe the cool shit she missed. But it’s here for us to enjoy, now, and we might as well.

Later, a single scene dream. My wife walks in the room and informs me with apparent gravitas and regret, yeah, “Fox and Mongreen closed last week”. Sounds like the kind of hipster restaurant place in the neighborhood that we’d typically be sad to see close. But wait… Mondegreen? Did I hear that right? Weirdly clever, upon reflection. This is the dream that woke me up — I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

Categories
Dream Journal

Hidden Temple Stays Hidden

My father-in-law lives in a large aristocratic manor, in one wing he’s built a grand indoor railroad landscape. Parts are clearly medieval with tiny knights and exquisite sailboats behind glass cases. He presents gifts to his daughter, my wife, while they lounge in front of one such display case. His pricey gifts are even on theme.

The house is tall enough that when I come down from an upper floor, walking down a long stone spiral staircase, I can’t tell at all if I’ve reached my floor (counting in a dream is hard too, I suppose). Eventually I emerge in a massive overstocked kitchen abuzz with people moving about, then finally reach the ground floor. Outside in the gravel drive is a squat yet spacious school bus waiting to return students who came to see Beauty and the Beast.

While driving my car out in the country, I stumble upon a pristine pagan temple — a circle of upright stones embedded in lush, thick ground cover. Hidden, disused, but obviously well-kempt, possibly built by Loreon Vigne of Isis Oasis. I forgot my suitcase for this trip so return home, and when I try to find the temple again the location on my maps app is wrong. It leads instead to a graffitied-over stage at some dilapidated Renaissance Fair summer camp along a disused, cracked, conifer-lined highway. Someone has been clever enough to keep it hidden — I wish I’d written it down.

Returning my colorful Mayan hammock because the net body has split from the hook loop. Surprised to discover I still have 11 days to return it. However, it seems Amazon mostly carries a plain white version, and this was a problem before. In fact, on reflection, the white hammock resembles a cheap nylon-and-plastic one I bought at an Army surplus store, the one which once dropped me straight down from a height of six feet.

Testing forensic evidence by having sex — sex with two women, to see how the female body processes semen. I wasn’t going to leave this in, it seems extraneous and explicit, but I reckon I should err on the side of completionism.