Tag: violence

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Dream Journal

Mongoose-Style Axe Moves

I’m waiting for a girl I don’t know that well, Laura R. (nom de plume: context sans) in a side room. This is after I meet her by assignment. Perhaps we were laying in bed together. There’s some sexual tension but it’s hard to define. We did meet on a dating site, after all. I might show her my loyalty and ability to work, but I’m also showing her that I needn’t be set on her.

Barber shop downstairs from where I live now, but it’s actually my unit in the dream. Axe on wall I take down, and I’m testing different animal-style strikes. On one side is a list of moves, and the other side is just instructions for Mongoose style. The winning move is to hit the blunt side of the ax to right side of face, which I do — to you know who. I noticed the ax has a chip out of it, a distinct triangle out of the blade side that I didn’t do.

I realize after waking it connects with a little project I’m doing. Beat it to a grimy pulp, as goes the saying I wrote in my consultant deck.

Categories
Dream Journal

Adventure with a Girl from Melbourne

A large model of gray naval ship, as long as two men. I’m escorting it by swimming beside it, against a kind of curb, within a twilight concrete jungle. My companion demonstrates how the bow of the ship, even in gentle water on our floating wooden slat platform, vibrates so profoundly that it’s genuinely unsafe and unusable — why it’s being retired.

I’m revisiting Melbourne, Australia and meet a girl. She wears a dark-haired ponytail and is strange and energetic, youthfully careless but with an edge of urbane worldliness. We have an adventure preforming the mundane task of buying subway fare, semi-drunkenly carousing in a grotty, rowdy corner shop. We end up asleep near a rocky beach somewhere down the subway line. She’d neglected to tell me I had to clock out from the ride (of which I remember nothing) and I’m worried that, on account of it being so long after, all my credit is now expended. She languidly reassures me, no, the maximum is one day… I take it we’ve been on the beach at least overnight.

Later, I’m staying again at the last hostel I stayed when I was there. I remember thinking that I should have chosen The Friendlies, which was my favorite. This one has tall sunny glass walls in the guest lobby, and quite a drinking culture. Reminiscent of the Gold Coast in Queensland, or Florida. A Scottish guy, or maybe just someone doing a raucous impression of one, proves his drunkenness by head-butting a glass table. Not content with simply cracking it, he continues head-butting until the entire countertop of the hostel is smashed. Guy is now quite covered in blood and his friends take him away.

Categories
Dream Journal

Smash-a-Window Man

I’m in my truck’s passenger seat. It’s present day me, fully enlightened and conscious. I observe an angry blonde white man with close-cropped hair become angry and start yelling at someone. He sees me looking at him and I try to play it cool, looking away. He rounds the other side of the car and punches right through the window with me inside. I wake up with a short, embarrassing girlish scream.