Tag: secret

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Dream Journal

New Society of Yet-Learned Secrets

I ride on an open railcar through inhabited forest land. It’s like a terraced Santa Cruz mountains full of houses. Once I arrive, I sense that I’ve “woken up” in an unfamiliar post-scarcity society with very different social rules. I must take my time to learn their ways. There’s artifacts from when I was alive previously (hundreds of years ago perhaps) which I get to explain. One is a jade stone green surface with matching sticker, partially torn off and covered in illegible handwriting. I offer to finally clean it off since I’ve explained that it was quite mundane, and it’s treated as a joke. This is their ancient history, after all.

There’s something hidden though — not quite sinister, but a secret aspect I’ve yet to uncover. My pet rat Porkpie (of all people) finds a ways to get away, escaping on a raft across a dark sea/lake. Little guy is cleverer than I expected.

I’m seated at a communal table with my friend Phoenix and her toddler Moxie. Above the table is an angled bar of color-coded lights which resembles the floating plastic lanes of a swimming pool. The linear code represents people at the table I think; Phoenix is white, Moxie green because she’s a baby, several others. Someone jokes to our waiter that they should put up searchlights.

At that suggestion I partially jolt into different consciousness, my view is a spreading fan pattern of messengers being released from a fortress under siege. Through the hostile rocky desert scramble hundreds of little Chinese figures in traditional costume (with conical hats) looking like a golden age Disney cartoon. One by one they’re shot in various ways as the roaming searchlight of the enemy finds them — all but one figure that, by brute luck, escapes the exposed killzone and delves into bafflingly rocky terrain. They must then follow a circuitous route to stay out of sight to reach a second fortress… the searchlights must never discover it as the destination.

Before the saving rendezvous takes place, I’m startled awake but my wife (gently, I’m told) telling me it might be time to wake up, Orin.

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Dream Journal

Strobble Noople-Poopin

Alexx Sanchez is in my dream somewhere, I remember thinking ” wow I it’s been so long. I don’t know if I’ve even dreamed about her”. I’m sure I have, but no earlier than a few decades ago, she’s someone I last knew in high school.

Sharing a sizeable horde of money w Angelica. We have to hide the burner phone after it’s brought up by third party friend, suspicious someone had taken the money, who doesn’t realize we have and are keeping the secret. We need to erase their memory… problem is such a technology doesn’t exist. do we just disappear on them and pretend?

A water dispenser on a top cabinet leaks. While I’m up there, I grab a plastic diner-style coffee pot — my dad (or someone related to me somehow) throws it away because don’t want those hot microplastics in his body.

From atop a structure, I spot a beautiful baby tapir in shades of blue and pink wander into our camp. Gorgeous creature. I remember too late to try and get a photo and it’s a little too far away. I get one distant photo and a bit of shaky video. I go to prepare a grain snack for the critter. But the grain shelf has a forgotten jar of prepared oatmeal which is now a science experiment. I forgot to eat it. Best left alone perhaps.

The Title: was just a lot of fun, some phrase definitely within yet assuredly unlocated within the night’s stories.

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Dream Journal

5th grade, Last Day

It’s the last day before summer in a fifth grade classroom. The teacher is reading Harry Potter aloud. I’m sweeping up and re-shaping the sand mount the classroom is located on, like a little city on a bluff.

The movie “Everything Everywhere All At Once” is connected somehow to a secret message made with a sharpie and a stencil on someone’s back. I haven’t seen the movie, but I’m already dreaming about it.

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Dream Journal

Discover a Secret About Former Roommate

Reading in a magazine by the side of my bed when I accidentally stumble on a bit in an article about someone I know. My old roommate, long after she had moved out, met someone for sex every Tuesday. Incidentally their fathers met and became professional friends. It was then revealed: the two of them were secret siblings.

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Dream Journal

Lindsay’s Secret Past

A YouTuber I’ve followed for years, Lindsay Ellis, narrates and hosts a long movie-like narrative dream allegorically revealing her past trauma. Most of the details of story are lost (I had a convention class to possibly attend starting at 9, but didn’t make it and fell back asleep).

It began on a steep cliffside road overlooking the ocean. Small, languid, statuesque lions watched over some of the scenes. We drove most of the time, often being tricked by clever transitions like the imagineering inside the Tower of Terror ride. One long sequence is in an oversize warehouse/grocery store, aisles like rooms of a building. I think out of respect for Lindsay I won’t repeat what I remember might’ve happened there. It’s mostly forgotten anyway — though I’m left with a feeling of sympathy and understanding, a feeling that I’ll keep the exact nature of the secret in the same spirit she has.

It’s worth noting here that I don’t know her personally, I’m just an member of her audience. But she’s a real person. I don’t often have dreams about strangers like this.

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Dream Journal

Hidden Doors, Wet Sansa

In a complex, a restaurant portion thereof, with all sorts of hidden doors. I can’t see them as I haven’t been initiated and attained a certain level, but I can tell from others facial expressions they can. There are multiple Sansa Starks, one of which joins me on a bed that has a slow water drip on it.

Side note, mostly unrelated: the squirrel is my favorite character in Lord of the Rings.

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Dream Journal

Big School Hallway

Middle School classroom, teacher is having difficulty trying to get us to actually leave our desks in disarray when we’re dismissed. A student teacher answers a phone call. The desk behind me has a roll of foil in it. We could fit all the students in a bus, squeezing double into every seat, but the bus would weigh so much it would drag.

I go on Space Mountain three times. Shoot some video of Ty as the operator, waving the space transports in.

A girl, topless, is crying (could it be Jaime Silva from 8th grade?). I take the opportunity besides all the other guys to actually console her. Go in for a very tactical hug, not holding her anywhere even moderately sexual, light light touch just on the elbows and forearms. She’s relieved and thanks me, and apologizes that her personal censor doesn’t allow me to see anything below her neck. I nod kindly and don’t mention that it does.

The class is then exploring a building which is a very long, wide hallway. I’m the only one to discover a door in the side, with a tiny little inter-door space, and another identical door. There’s even an attic door when I look up. I go inside and it’s a single-occupancy apartment with the TV still on. It makes the lines of the building stick out and should be easy to see from the outside. I get the impression that outside is the Sahara desert though, like something out of Dr. Strange.

I continue walking around the hallway with my classmates, recall the topless girl story and mentally review it, remembering it as important. (This is likely a consequence from my practice of my dream journaling practice.)

I walk down the hall to see my wife. She’s stressed and just as I’m walking down our hall, she mentions the door in the hallway could shut at any point. Of course, right at that moment, a door midway down the hallway — which was never there before — swings shut right in front of me.

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Dream Journal

Missed Opportunities, Missed Everything

Someone rediscovers an old secret of mine, that when I was in high school I got a letter of acceptance into Yale but never followed up on it. I lost the letter and chose to forget about it over the years. I’m embarrassed but also just don’t know what to say. I don’t have an explanation for why I left behind the opportunity, it just… slipped away.

Later on I’m at a swap meet near a terraced park. I’m packing up some metal rods embedded in parking lot asphalt into the truckbed, hopefully to sell. Their partially dug already, and it turns out a vendor there already decided they weren’t worth it and gave up. That same vendor has just sold a small black heart-shaped vessel for $302, a vessel I sold to them only a few days ago for $16. I calculate it immediately in the dream as $285, oddly off by one. For a variety of reasons, I’m not actually upset — although the way he told me, it seems what he expected.

Then I’m cleaning up the park after the show. Walking away with my arms full I see I’ve missed some vape tips in the dirt. I’ll get them another time, I think. I go to visit a group of friends in a further-away part of the bay. I pass their apartment and open a heavy door to a tiny bare windowless ground floor apartment, somewhere no human should live of their own free will. I know it must be hella expensive, too. I go next door to see my friends and their place is the same, but twice as wide.

As I’m driving home, I’m dropping off one of the girls at her subway stop. The town is like New Orleans, her stop is named Mystic, and it’s practically right by the swap meet earlier. Just as we get there she begins to try sweet-talking me into driving her across the bay. She’s cute, might’ve worked, but I see pretty clearly how it’s manipulating my attraction. There’s no actual feelings from her.

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Dream Journal

Secret Merkel Protectorate of Freedom

Make a baseball save in a square frame net in my childhood backyard. Didn’t know I was playing before, so it was rather lucky.

Minding my own business for the most part, I accidentally commit an act of high patriotism, but high treason to the enemies of… what I assume is freedom. Angela Merkel escorts me safely behind a set of double doors disguised as a bathroom entrance. I spot George W. Bush walking by and immediately realize this is an even more important meeting than I anticipated. I try to start an audio recording on my phone as Merkel explains the situation to me, but I can’t get the damn thing to start properly.

The details are lost, but the concern her unnamed group found relevant to me involved Captain Janeway of Voyager landing her starship underwater in order to escape the US.

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Dream Journal

Neither Brookstone, Nor Sharper Image, but P…

Diving into sparkling blue-white pool naked, after taking clothes off at water’s edge. As recommended by Pan Priest last night. Gathering of high-status leisure, Eileen is there, Koe, others too, attended by gynoid pool-parlor assistants.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch has an electronically-assisted power to talk secretly in front of outsiders. It’s disguised, warped, imperceptible to normal hearing. She’s doing this on one occasion in a tile-walled library waiting room, located in my teenage bedroom, but when she starts talking about sex the filter starts to break. A maternal woman in the same room suddenly perceives her as a disfigured bird-faced large toddler.

There’s a high-end electronic store whose name I didn’t know. It was similar to Brookstone or Sharper Image, and it started with a ‘P’, but the owner there kept misleading me that it was different stores… that I knew it wasn’t. One, for instance, was affiliated with a Chinese family, incorporated the name ‘Chinatown’ and owned several different places in SF but not this one. I pick up an employment application from the floorboards, but I just can’t figure out the name. Most of the dream, I’m bugging myself trying to remember it.

In an aisle of rifles, there’s a loaded crossbow which predictably goes off the moment I touch it. I practically roll my eyes. Upon drawback, a thin silvery arrow-bolt shaft levers upwards 45 degrees for ease of loading.

In a distant more-forgotten section packed with older merchandise, on a lone mid-level shelf above the aisles, Lynae finds a curious vacuum (or… vacuum-like trinket). It’s package is the size of a coffee cup box, ancient-looking for electronics, from the 1980s at least. Some kind of toilet pun. Christmas-themed, too, with faded rainbow shoehorned in there. I don’t recall us opening it, but it was an amusing curiosity.