Dream Journal

Old Spy Store, Pop-up Spiderman, Gravity Gun

A run-down store from the 1980s specializing in spy gear, somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, in a nearly abandoned strip mall, just off a highway. Used to be so big it had registers all along the front, from one end of the store to the other. Now things have gotten so cheap that their music repeats on a loop 35 minutes long. Format of its name is “person-name-here’s”, if that’s understandable.

An older woman expresses interest in telling me her story (or my story?) by means of an inflatable outdoor big screen. The story randomly has Spider-Man pop in at different points, much like a pop-up ad.

A fancy gravity-altering gun (perhaps of my own design) shoots shiny super-stylish double-conical bombs. It remotely manipulates its aerial position, then detonates it on command. This seems impressive in the 3D jungle style game I’m inside. I gravimetrically pull in a cyborg that looks like Vendata/Venturian from Venture Bros and he sustains “severe anomaly damage” when I explode it on him.

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.

Dream Journal

Dream: October 24, 2018

Staying in Tahoe with poly peeps, I go out in the crisp early morning air to the enclosed backyard. I count six hot tubs arrayed around the pool, it’s so wonderfully abundant — maybe decadent, even.

Hot older woman, fancies herself a femme fatale. Wife of someone powerful. She’s named “Korova”, like the Cannabis brand (I just visited a recreational dispensary for the first time yesterday).

I’m playing pool (the game with balls and pockets) but find it curiously frustrating, the damn physics aren’t constant… because I’m dreaming, of course.

Dean Venture, Hank, sell their subs during the credits.

Here’s a cool image: an infinitely repeating crocodile skull, spinning in space, then zoom in on an ornate pile of carved Olmec heads.

Dream Journal

Cafe Bookstore & Venture Bros

Beautiful new bookstore cafe in SF comes with a superstition: people put pennies in the rug. Their library/study is exceptional. It has a warm, farmhouse vibe even with the laptops.

Venture Brothers are captured and have to adopt false identities. When left alone, the facade drops except for Brock who tries to moralize with a speech about “scruples for heroes in stripes for pipes” (or something). I attempt to demonstrate a face mask filter but Lynae can’t help me find it.