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Dream Journal

Gazempic

There is a judgement of the adult offspring of rich parents who was abused. Perhaps, that is, abused nevertheless. I’ve not much to compare her with in my life experience, but she reminds me of Patty Hearst or Britney Spears. I’m not really participating, so maybe I’m already watching a movie.

Then I am… I am watching a sorta slow movie, some kind of arthouse populism disposable fame film. Fairly unremarkable par the course. Yet one scene that was easy to dredge back out of the night’s fading: several of the main actresses are on swings, hung from the arches of a colonnade. In vainglorious slowmo, the camera pans down the line of brand-name actresses flaunting full-frontal vagina. Shocking on a few levels.

Inspiring of questions too… How did they get away with releasing this even if it maybe was the 70s? How did the big name starlets agree to it? How come nobody ever mentioned this bit when they talk about the movie? Why do I distinctly place the word as “vagina” even when I’m well aware that “vulva” is more descriptively accurate? Well, it was a weird scene I suppose.

After the Donald Duck portion (which happens to be the best reviewed Donald Duck bit in history, fun fact), my wife is avoiding a meeting. She’s embarrassed and worried on account the meeting is to discuss and decide concerning her boyfriend R. Multiplying two large factors is part of deciding whether he will be judged to have transgressed (I’ve been doing a lot of coding lately).

”Gazempic”, as you might expect, is a strange word/name that just barely became unmoored from it’s place and meaning.

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Dream Journal

Curiosity in a Tent

Notice that my rat Tip can get under the door. This is still a concern as he hasn’t integrated with his brother.

A YouTuber I follow, Jenny N. is in a tent off to one side (treated as a room). I watch her check her “isis”, which is located between the labia and vagina. I can see the circle ring of teeth — but don’t note it as special. Hope I don’t get caught watching and called a perv by people outside. Genuinely just checking in on her and curious.

Later I’m waiting on the ground floor in a twilight atrium space, one of those malls that are like a long corridor. While I’m there, they close a store that does trainings. So I get escorted through the mall for a long way through “closed-off” territory. It’s a tile-floored ramp that seems familiar now.

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Dream Journal

Prison in the Deep Hills

Tegan, teenage girl I meet who wants relationship but we have to split up for a bit. In saying goodbye I pronounce her name as Reagan, then Regan, then Teagan. As I’m lying on floor, she does ridiculous poses with her torso distorted, making her junk look ridiculous too, and I ask and take a photo up near her crotch. Somehow this proves (and is meant to prove) she does really like me. A worthwhile souvenir, and an image strong enough to survive the whole night’s dreams.


Falsely imprisoned in a remote location, somewhere in the occupied Tibetan mountains. Sewing a pattern of beads into what passes for camouflage. Discovering a former prisoner has left instructions to a map crafted into a hillside, showing a multi-day escape route. Guards suggesting everything was washed out in a flood. Gathering together small colored objects of various shapes for some prisoner display, I instead arrange them in a replica of a map to the map.

A road passes outside the prison. Against the roadside slope, I secretly bury a colonized tray of mushroom starter under a garden bed. It looks like the same beaded camouflage. Passing by on the curvy mountain road are automated robotic garbage cans, cows with their directions pre-programmed. I cling to the underside of one briefly before it skids off-road, not having been programmed for added weight.

Close by in the mountains is the Akrokorinth, much closer than expected. Perhaps 27 meters. It’s a walled funeral arena.