Nov 242014

I was in a New York skyscraper with Bono, Larry Mullen Jr., and our friend Mike R. We went to the top of it and discovered an enormous junkyard. The skyscraper turned into a mile-high mountain in the shape of a building, but the top was rounded and uncarved, and the junkyard covered most of it.

I found a very fancy weight scale, in white enamel with shiny, tufted red leather padding, but there were sticky notes attached to it stating that it wasn’t for sale. Unseen employees started removing the padded sections, because somehow this would allow them to sell it to me.

I turned to see the guys disappear through an empty door frame near the edge of the mountain and followed. On the other side was a six- or nine-foot drop onto a wide metal catwalk that circled the whole thing. I wondered how they’d gotten down there so quickly and easily, since there was no ladder or stairs. I was annoyed that they’d ditched me, and wanted to follow them, but when I looked through the catwalk grating at the ground a mile below, I got dizzy.

As a joke, I almost yelled after them, “Hello! Hello! I’ve got this thing called vertigo!”

Sep 012013

Several thousand years BCE: I was in the past trying to preserve statues and artwork for the future by collecting them and putting them in the care of an older man who was very close to immortal.

At one point I had rounded up a group of pristine human statues from a civilization that had left very few remnants of itself, and left them with him. I’m not sure if the statues were supposed to be of gods or people, but they were of various colors, mostly shades of white and off-white, but one was solid black.

I returned some time later to find that the heads of all the statues had been sliced off. Angrily questioning the man, I discovered that he had been swayed by some religious group and convinced that false idols must be destroyed. I eventually convinced him of the importance of what we were doing, and he swore to never deface or destroy anything in the collection again.

Flash forward to the present day: There was a media circus around the compound on the shore of the Mediterranean (Greece? Turkey?) where he had lived and housed the collection, because he had finally died, and the collection was going to be revealed to the public.

My viewpoint switched, and I was above the water, going around a monument as if filming it for a documentary. It was circular, and gave the impression of being composed of rings of low marble walls, barely above sea level. They surrounded a flattened, slightly twisted wedge made of gold, rising about 20-30 feet above the surface. Someone said it was actually on Venus, but I dismissed the idea because the conditions on Venus made that impossible.

Mar 202013

I was playing some version of Mechwarrior with virtual reality, because it was as if I was inside the mech. I was playing against some friends, but complaining to Aaron that the customization options were crap.

I was trying to add PPCs to my Warhammer’s arms, and the game wouldn’t let me. To demonstrate, I waved my virtual arms at Aaron, which ended in bare struts instead of particle cannons. Instead, the cannons were stacked on top of my shoulder-mounted missile racks.

I want my money back. ūüėõ

Nov 212012

A craze had swept the nation, involving a circuit-wiring kit or game made of cheap-looking orange plastic pieces like Lego bricks. They could be wired together to make different things, similar to building on a circuit breadboard or Arduino, but the most popular configuration was a flexible grid. Contained in each cell of the grid was a flat jewel, usually red or green, and also cheap-looking. People would make large sheets of these, which rippled like a flag in the wind.

I wasn’t sure what purpose they served, but I was very leery of them. They felt slightly sinister for some reason. People were obsessed with them, despite lacking any apparent function or real decorative value. I had a very powerful sense of having dreamed of these before.

One day, after the craze had been in full swing for awhile, ships appeared in the sky. They looked like typical sci-fi space freighters: long, angular, and roughly needle-shaped. At first I thought they were starships, but then knew they were sub-light transports, launched from a larger ship.

One of them landed nearby, and I joined a group of people greeting a passenger from it: a young bearded man, in a neat uniform, whom we all knew but hadn’t seen in a long time. I kissed and hugged him, and as I stepped back he smiled and said, “What, no tongue?”

I was startled, because this was very out-of-character for the man I remembered, although I sure wouldn’t have objected. I stammered, “Well, I can certainly do that if you like…”, but the moment passed. The young man told us that the connection between the circuit kits and the spaceships’ arrival was…

…I woke up.

Sep 082012

Connor said I was near his family’s place out in the country, although I didn’t see Connor; I could only hear him briefly, and then he was gone. I neither saw nor sensed any other living thing except the trees and grass. I approached a sort-of farm and entered a small pen which contained an open, waist-high, metal box next to an outbuilding.

In the box was a large ferret, alone and nearly ignored. Two small chrome bowls held a few bits of food in them. There was no water bottle or bowl.

He had a face like a teddy bear and was dirty, but not filthy. Forgotten, but still friendly. Barely fed, but still solid. I picked him up and he squirmed a bit, but quickly settled down with some petting.

Looking at him, the word “monde” floated through my head, but I didn’t know if that was a name, or what. I’d never heard the word before, and had to look it up afterward.

I set about finding him some more food, and setting up a water feed, which involved arranging three toothpicks to create a type of drip system. I wanted to take him away from there, but didn’t want to just walk off with someone’s pet if they were coming back, though it seemed unlikely. The entire world felt empty.

Jan 292012

I was sitting in a diner in Washington DC. I discovered that I could flip the right side of my seat up. When I did, I found a dirt-lined hole underneath, and it was filled with bugs.

Most prominent were huge centipedes, about a foot long, coiling and scuttling. I closed the seat in horror and wondered how the diner could get away with such an infestation, but did nothing else about it. The scene felt very much as if it were the continuation of a previous dream from some time in the past, but I couldn’t remember any such dream.

Shortly afterward, a large group of people started filing into the diner, wearing suits and dresses, carrying papers and notebooks, and made their way down into the basement. The last person in was president Obama, and I suddenly knew that the diner’s basement was now the headquarters of his government-in-exile, but knew nothing else about the situation.

Flipping the seat back up, I found some of the centipedes had grown to over two feet, and their eyes were now glowing like multicolored jewels.

Sep 212011

I’ve gotten about halfway through Horizon Storm, book 3 of The Saga of Seven Suns. It’s still pretty good, but my observations from the previous blog post still stand.

After putting the book down and turning off the light, I eventually fell asleep at about 2:30am. During the whopping two hours of sleep I got, I dreamed I was still reading the book, except my brain had amplified Anderson’s tendency to use a lot of short sentences. The whole thing was now written at the about the third grade level:

“Jess saw Cesca. He walked over to Cesca. Cesca wanted to touch him. He told her no. He said it would hurt her. Cesca was sad…”

…and on, and on, and ON, for what seemed like hours. I was actually glad to wake up but, since I couldn’t get back to sleep, I spent the next two and a half hours on the couch reading more of the book.

Aug 092011

Frodo had gone completely Dark Side. Taller than before, hair slicked back, he sneered down from the top step of the foyer at his hosts: two older hobbits who owned the immaculate, well-lit home. He was flanked by two nameless companions, and together the five of them surrounded a deep pit set inexplicably in the entryway floor. A mop of curly hair was just visible at the bottom.

“I was sick of his shit,” Frodo said in a bored voice, “and I pushed him in. So what?”

Some time later, everyone was gathered in a room deeper inside the house. Frodo asked Older Hobbit #1 what had become of the body. OH1 looked slyly at Older Hobbit #2.

“This one cooked him up and ate him!”

Everyone immediately believed this without question, and turned murderous gazes on OH2. Terrified, OH2 waddled into the kitchen as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him, and I followed behind.

He pulled open the oven door, and I caught a horrible glimpse of something large roasting within, before he slammed it shut again. He turned back to OH1, now sitting in a chair near the kitchen entrance.

“You cooked him yourself, and blamed me¬†for it! You’re going to pay for this!”

His back to me, OH2 pulled open the front of his pants and a heavy stream of piss suddenly splashed against OH1’s face, who opened his mouth to catch it.

I watched in stunned disbelief for a second, then yelled at the lot of them, “Stop it! Do you know what the worst thing about the ‘Lord of the Rings’ books was? All the singing! Not this–cannibalism and water sports! What the fuck is wrong¬†with you people?!”

I stormed through the kitchen door and outside. Crouched immediately in front of me was one of the creatures which had been stalking us, and the reason we’d taken shelter here. It resembled a large, four-legged stuffed animal without fur: all smooth white cloth and black button eyes, with no other distinguishing features.

These are the terrible monsters we were running from?

Startled by my sudden appearance, the thing froze. Without breaking stride I snap-kicked it under the jaw, sending it end-over-end across the courtyard, and in my best Ripley vs. the Alien Queen voice screamed, “DON’T FUCK WITH ME! I WILL KILL¬†YOU!”

Turning left into a hallway that appeared, another of the things got in my way. I grabbed it by the hindquarters, spun around in a circle, and hurled it into the third critter just behind it. They both went flying, and my improvised missile turned into a shaggy blue toy dog. I suddenly felt a bit guilty for being mean to something so cuddly and lovable, but put it out of my mind as I stomped down the corridor and into the next dream.

“What kind of fighter squadron doesn’t have service manuals for any of its planes? How are we supposed to fix anything?!”

Apr 032011

I was sitting at my desk at night. I looked at my bottle of Adderall and suddenly took one out and swallowed it. I was shocked at what I’d done and yelled at myself, “What are you doing? You’ll never get to sleep now!”

No sooner had I finished lecturing myself, I took another one. After more ranting, I decided to go make myself throw them back up. That accomplished, I sat back down at the desk to think about why I was doing this. I contemplated the bottle and, seconds after doing so, my hands moved of their own volition to take out another capsule, which I promptly swallowed. It was as if my hands and mouth were operating completely independent of my brain, and merely looking at, or even thinking about, Adderall made them take one.

By the fourth capsule, I realized I was dreaming, but was suddenly unsure whether I had taken any in real life, as dreaming and waking started to blur together. When I woke up, I had to think about it for a few seconds to sort it out, as there were no fantastical elements in the dream to make it obvious.

Jan 192011

Dreamed I’d gotten married to a pretty, black-haired woman who was blind. I went into a side room of the reception hall to change clothes, but I just kept rearranging the clothes I was already wearing: black dress shirt, black undershirt, tan pants, brown belt. I tucked, untucked, buttoned, unbuttoned, took the belt off, and put it back on. I was trying to hurry but it seemed to take forever. There were pastel chalk marks on my collar around the top button, but I can’t remember why they were there. I do remember thinking, “She’s blind; she won’t notice them.”

When I first went in, I could hear a lot of noise from the hall. Near the end of all this re-dressing my friends in the hall started singing a showtune in unison; Joe Dix’s voice was the only recognizable one. I thought at first it was “Come What May” from Moulin Rouge, but the words were something like, “you changed my life completely” or “you changed everything”.

I finally walked out of the room to find a silent, nearly empty hall. There were four large, round, white tables off to the right side, three of which were empty. At the fourth one sat my sister, my maternal grandmother, and a couple of other unknown relatives. On the table were all kinds of desserts, with a red, white & blue color scheme. One dish I focused on looked like a bowl of white macaroni in white chocolate sauce with sprinkles, and I remember thinking it looked kind of revolting: the macaroni had an unnatural shine to it.

I felt terrible that everyone had left, and wondered why no one had come to check on me or hurry me up.¬†I walked up behind my sister, put my hands on her shoulders, and said, “I am SO sorry it took so long!”

Clearly annoyed, she replied, “I don’t care! It’s YOUR birthday!”

I woke up.

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