Wake up and the clock reads 9:36 am. I’m at my parent’s house, my childhood house when I was school age. Realize it’s a Monday and my parents have let me sleep in. My audio recorder has been going and I stop it, wondering if it recorded my snoring… or my menstrual cycle? Which I don’t have as I’m a cis male.
The dream is called “Apotropaic tracheism, tocarianism”, because these words were an important phrase later/earlier in the night’s dreams. I forget what they meant they were related somehow. Not many people know what ‘apotropaic’ means — which is too bad, as it’s a lovely word.
A couple of guys dressed as old ladies at a rooftop party are fleeing in disguise. Repaired broken electrical in the street.
Driving back to a hotel that I’m staying at, as a young woman. A room with free snacks, Cheetos.
Sharing ownership of a car with a lover.
A song based on a report about love: Malageist. I’ve been keeping the report upside down on a filing cabinet and only reveal it to my family when I share the song.
I don’t remember these dreams very well, even at the end of the day. Need to start filling in more details after I leave bed.
Plarvolia’s bio has been updated to EMPHASIZE that she is engaged. But it’s phrased sorta weird, using a Latin term (“plerisis”?) and character substitutions à la Myspace circa 2005. Who knows with that one.
In a mall, Dara V. wears flip-flops with a star drawing on them. Maybe I do too? Seems close enough to something she’d actually wear, but still odd.
I go behind a bar even though I’m simply a visitor, that is, a customer. Annoying the expert baristas, I suppose. I grab whipped cream off the shelf, but put it back before any shenanigans.
Replaying the same video game level repeatedly. It’s a military campaign, like a map from Command & Conquer. Re-learning with each failure, avoiding certain areas. The only way to win is to fail — repeatedly.
A white-colored Dutch boombox radio. I realize it’s supposed to be a breeding machine for something, producing offspring (or helping produce offspring).
Examining my toes, I see that the middle toe is actually smaller than all the rest.
Relay race in Berlin, Germany. New law that electricity lights can’t shine like Nazi colors. Trying to keep the music from changing in the lights upstairs before the law changes.
More dreams before, but forgotten despite efforts.
On the exam on the last day of school I have a series of very intense reactions, and very intense answers to the provocative questions.
Swinging from redwood tree to tree like Spiderman, I chase after two items being carried by Latino families. These are the last two remaining, perhaps from an earlier dream. I see the families on HUD and can track them with ease.
During a quiet moment in mid-swing, I observe a hawk flying past.
Having just re-watched “Scott Pilgrim vs. The World”, it should come as no surprise that I just dreamt of Ramona Flowers. I almost forgot that’s basically her whole thing for awhile there; skating through people’s dreams on subspace highways running though their heads. What’s maybe a bit unexpected is was my errant though that I would see her in my dreams tonight, and then actually seeing her. I can’t remember much else.
A huge flat wall of an image, a drawing of yellow red and purple swirls. I used an image like this recently in a project to illustrate stage 3 of Salvia divinorum ingestion.
Distinct imagery with eyes closed: fractal patterns, geometric or vine-like motifs, stable impressions of objects and designs, mostly all 2-dimensional. If visual effects are seen with eyes open, these are often vague and fleeting. Comparable to hypnagogic phenomena sometimes experienced at sleep onset. Open or closed eyes, visions are perceived as “eye candy”, not confused with reality.
Sitting round a table. My Homepie friend Mickey is there, and though I call him Mickey it’s been just so long since I’ve seen him. I obliquely mention cocaine in terms of it being “someone’s favorite”, and he brings out some (or at least what appears to be) on a beautiful hand-carved driftwood table.
Searching the garage in my childhood home, cleaning up my dad’s workbench with my mom — but it’s against the adjacent wall, where the books were. A tiny CFL bulbs roll off the table as we work. I’m exhausted and lay down on a couch on my stomach. A classmate of mine from elementary and middle school, Emily McIntosh, uses a tele-robotically-controlled rat to explore while I then rest peacefully on my back.
While hanging and swinging from a bar out the door to the backyard, I have a creative idea for my website: using vector outlines of patterns to fill with dynamic colors customized to the individual posts.
Fragments of dreams:
A table on a stage
Saving some friends for a demonstration
An object rising though the air and into the realm of gods
On the far wall, an inscribed poster
A StarCraft video game level of criss-crossing lines, where you start out as a character on the edge, and your objective is to lure the enemy into the lines away from safety
