Aug 232010

Anna Torv as a law enforcement character, not clear if it was her Fringe character exactly, as she was never named. In a bar, in eastern Washington state, arguing with a Marine in civvies. Telling him he failed his oath and, instead of protecting, brought harm (drunk driving or something similar). She (Anna) was somehow culpable as well (by not stopping him?). Cut to two young girls in a hospital, badly injured. Angry and bitter towards Anna.

Cut back to her in her home; now broken by guilt and remorse. She opens a piece of chocolate wrapped in foil, puts it in her mouth. She reads something written on the inside of the foil and begins shrieking in mortal terror. I look away from the large TV I’m suddenly watching this on, and a small TV at the other end of the hotel room turns itself on to the same program. Now freaked out myself, from her loud screaming and the self-activating TV, I look back at the large TV and rejoin the scene, about to yell at her that she’s dreaming.

She’s being viciously attacked by a black dog, standing upright like a man, holding her arms with his paws and snapping at her. A near-human primate, a caveman of some kind, is on her back shrieking as it beats her with what looks like a table leg or section of pool cue.

Cut to the outside of her home. She shuffles out the door and onto the porch. She is ancient now, with simian features. The caveman is clinging to her back (monkey on her back?), while the black dog, still upright, walks next to her holding her arm. There is a semi-circle of mothers surrounding her, each with a young child. She begs them, saying, “I just need to speak to the little ones”. Horrified, the mothers grab their children and turn away to leave. As each one leaves the circle they vanish, sucked down into the ground.

The dog and the caveman, both now on four legs, bound in slow motion across the boulder-strewn terrain and out of sight. Anna is not visible, but they still carry her, disembodied, between them, in search of a child to beg forgiveness.

Until I left the house, and even on the drive to work, I was afraid. I kept expecting to turn a corner, in the house or on the road, and see that black dog standing in front of me. What the fuck is going on in my head lately?

Aug 152010

I was in a larger version of our upstairs bathroom, and it had a large triangular sink that pointed into the room. On the lip of the point were attached five small buttons of jade, one in each of the colors of the Elemental Dragons in the Exalted RPG (the greatest gods of the Terrestrial Bureaucracy; above them are the Celestial Bureacracy). I know all five were on the sink, but I only remember seeing the black and red ones.

I was having an argument with Danaa’d, the Elemental Dragon of Water (in a bathroom, how appropriate lol). He was in human form, and wearing black. I can’t remember a single word of the argument, except that I was adamant that I was right about whatever it was, and closed the conversation with a “…and that’s THAT!” tone.

I woke up with the sense that whatever we had argued about was very important but, try as I might, I still can’t recall a single thing about it. Last night I flipped through my Exalted books and wrote down the things associated with Danaa’d and his Chosen, looking for clues as to what my subconscious was getting at:

– quick to adapt to new ideas
– flexibility
– suspicious of dogma
– fond of mysteries and solving puzzles
– problem-solving through unconventional means
– conflict as a growth opportunity
– growth through adversity
– that which is hidden in the black ocean depths

Last night in bed, after writing this in my dream journal, I focused on calling Danaa’d back to find out what we argued about. The thoughts right after that were, “‘Come back’ implies ‘left in the first place'”, and “Danaa’d is always here, down in the bottomless depths.”

I focused on the blackness of my closed eyes and visualized sinking down into it, but as often happens when trying to meditate, I suddenly had one itch after another that had to be scratched, and I couldn’t shut them out. I eventually fell asleep, but I don’t remember any dreams.

The other reason this was interesting was that it showed how everything we put in our heads becomes part of our “library”, or even a personal mythology. I know that Danaa’d (and every other god in the game) was completely made up by a designer, for use in a game of make-believe, but I’ve internalized all of the game lore so thoroughly that my subconscious has turned at least part of it into a means of communicating with me.

8/19/10 Update: In the dream the only colors of jade visible on the bathroom sink were black and red. Tonight, in real life, Aaron’s parents drove down from Port Huron to take us to dinner for our birthdays. He was dressed head-to-toe in black. She was dressed head-to-toe in red.

Coincidence? Yeah, but a weird one.

Feb 192010

In lieu of an actual post of any substance, since I can’t seem to wake up this morning, here’s a drug commercial I stumbled across while trying to explain the My Little Cthulhu toy on my desk to a coworker.

Here’s hoping the coffee and Concerta will eventually jumpstart my exercise-depleted brain. Jump-squats, lunges, and treadmill sprints are evil, evil things. This morning I dreamed I was in the underground of some unknown city/country. All of the various neighborhoods/cities were connected, not by subways, but by high-speed moving sidewalks.

Treadmills. I was dreaming about treadmills. >:-|

Aug 272008

Had a weird little dream before I woke up this morning. I was walking home to my house from somewhere, in a mostly empty city. My house was a very small 3-room thing: bedroom (which was also where the front door was), kitchen/front room (separated by a counter bar), and bathroom.

There was something involving ghosts or spirits going on in the city, which involved me somehow, and I suspected I was being followed by something. When I went in the main room and chained the bedroom behind me, I heard something slither to the floor and move around. I reopened the bedroom door, slipped my hand under the chain, and flipped on the light, but nothing happened. I quickly pulled the door shut again and bolted it. I turned back into the main room and remember thinking, “Living alone is sad and scary; I don’t know how my poor mom can stand it.”

I woke up and was reassured by the sound of Aaron breathing next to me, although I’d probably been a bit less grateful if he’d been snoring loudly. :oP

Sep 112007

There’s a vengeful arachnid lurking somewhere in or near our bed, whose wrath has descended upon me in the form of two bites over the last two nights; one on the side of the neck, and one on my left hip. Time to strip the sheets and check behind the wall hanging over the bed. I’d vacuum thoroughly, but one of Aaron’s socks got sucked into the cleaner last week, and is wound inextricably around the motor. Buying a new vacuum is NOT something I want to spend money on at the moment, but what better justification for getting a Dyson?

The venom from the bites must be causing some funky dreams, because this morning I’d won $211 million in a lottery and was sitting in a sexy black convertible, somewhere in downtown Chicago, looking up at the stars. I hadn’t actually claimed the money yet, and was keeping the ticket hidden for the moment. Aaron was afraid that that kind of money would ruin our relationship, and I was debating destroying the ticket for that reason.

Of course in real life I would never be so stupid as to not claim $211 million, or any million for that matter. I’m pretty certain that sudden ludicrous wealth wouldn’t hurt our relationship but, even if it did, 211 megabucks buys a lot of marriage counseling.

That dream flowed into some kind of military/alien/end-of-the-world thing which I can’t remember anymore, but I do know it was pretty exciting.

I haven’t thought much about 9/11 today, or my father, who died on 9/11/02. I remember that I was showering when my ex Jay came home before even getting to work, and told me that terrorists had just flown planes into the WTC. I thought he was fucking with me until I went out to the TV.

Later that day I drove down to the Red Cross office in Taylor to see about giving blood, and I got this eerie and overwhelming sense of being connected with everyone else on the road. Everyone’s driving was subdued and polite (shocked, most likely) and I felt like everyone around me was family. Even stranger, I sensed that everyone else felt the exact same way. I guess that’s what “united” means in its purest sense.

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Jun 202007

I stood in the clean empty basement, on a red-painted floor surrounded by bright white concrete walls. A freestanding metal ladder, anchored to the floor, ran up to a manhole in the ceiling. An oblong bundle of rags was tied to a high rung of the ladder. An industrial drum stood on a narrow ledge high up the wall, half buried in the concrete, above the bundle. The woman stood near me, of advancing years and nearly black skin. Her Cajun drawl almost distracted me from her words.

“Ah tied Quimby to de ladder when de flood come, ta keep her above de water. Den de drum cracked and leaked all over her. Couldn’t get her off a dere in time.”

She shook her head sadly. No anger, no horror, just resignation. I started to move toward the ladder when the flat crack of her voice stopped me cold.

“You don’ wanna see dat.”

As if on cue, a thin stream of ochre-tinted liquid dribbled from the base of the drum, directly onto the wrappings. They writhed and shuddered, swinging from their twine cradle. Not a sound issued from them.

“She’s still alive?!” I dashed toward the ladder, intent on rescuing what should have already been dead.

“Leave her! Dey need to see what dey done to her wit’ dere chemicals and trash.”

I could only bear the sight for a few seconds and grabbed the blue towel from the floor where it had conveniently appeared. I threw it over Quimby, who was inexplicably now on the floor as well, and dragged the whole thing toward me as it popped and sizzled.


I stepped away from the manhole under a brilliant October sky, the clean sprawl of the farm surrounding me in its wide river valley. I staggered back and forth through a patch of tall dry grass, hand gripped over my mouth in horror. I wandered numbly away down a dirt road near the farmhouse and, as it approached on my left, several young children ran screaming from it.

“There’s a war!”
“Is there gonna be a war?!”
“Are we gonna die?!”

They dashed across the road in front of me, pointing in the distance. I stopped, fully expecting to see white contrails rising into the air a la The Day After. Instead, I saw only a pair of huge columns, sprouting red and white radio antennae from their tips, surrounded at the top and middle with wide metal skirts, looking for all the world like alien mushrooms hundreds of feet tall. As I stood there, one of them seemed to tip slightly, then rose into the air, without sound, without fire. It slid into the sky as smoothly and swiftly as a maglev train and vanished from sight.

I dropped to my knees in terror and despair, murmuring to myself, “We failed. Civilization has failed. We were so close…so close…”

The alarm went off.

Mar 282007

I hate dreams like this. They don’t have the visceral terror of nightmares, but I wake up horribly sad.

I dreamed that I’d died, and my afterlife of the moment consisted of a small classroom or office setting, along with John, the guy who ran the Werewolf game in which agent00groovey and I first became friends about 13 years ago.

I was deeply in denial about never being able to see or talk to everyone I’d left behind, and was desperate to find a way to talk to Aaron again. There was a day planner book on a desk in front of me that mirrored Aaron’s, and I knew that if I wrote a message on it he would see it and we could still communicate. I kept trying to write “I love and miss you so much”, but for some reason I kept misspelling the words. I’d erase my attempts and start over, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t form the words.

John quietly watched me do this for awhile, and when my frustration reached its peak said, “The living and the dead can’t communicate. Both sides have to move on, and that can’t happen if they can still speak to each other. How could anyone carry on like that, knowing that they could never see or touch each other again, but then continue to linger without end? It’d be torture.”

I knew he was right, and I understood the reasons perfectly, even though I didn’t want to. The finality of it was heartbreaking. I woke up miserable, and hugged Aaron extra hard before I left for work. Even now just writing about it I’ve had to stop and wipe my eyes twice, and I’m not a weepy person, but if nothing else it has given me a boost of renewed appreciation for being alive.

Oct 092006

I was in a dark, wooded, narrow mountain valley which until recently had been underwater for decades. When the black water receded it revealed a small ’30s-era mining town(?) of log cabins, all of it preserved by the coldness of the water and the lack of life in it. I was walking through the camp, and everywhere I looked there were spiders: smooth, fat, brownish-white things about the size of a silver dollar. They were in doorways and empty windows, on railings, scuttling under porches and across rooftops. At one point I turned around to find one hanging a foot from my face, legs waving, fangs clearly visible. I didn’t freak out, but quickly kept walking out of town. Some guy was standing in one of the doorways, watching me go by, but we didn’t speak.

I woke up to see it was about 4:30am, then spent the next five minutes scratching every imaginary itch, certain the little alien horrors were crawling under my pillow. After falling back asleep I found myself outside the valley and looking across a lake toward a tall but narrow mountain. The surrounding area looked very much like the mountains of northern Idaho where I-90 cuts across it: dark, wooded, and eerie. There was, or had been, some kind of military post at the top of the hill and, after somehow crossing the lake, started climbing the metal stairs embedded in the side of the hill. The Army(?) didn’t want me to go up there, but were unable to stop me. I only saw/heard one soldier, but “behind the scenes” I knew that there was a lot more people involved. For some reason I was untouchable, and they knew it.

There was a dark figure waiting for me at the top but, unfortunately, I didn’t reach it before the alarm went off.

Aug 212006

Friday night we had our combined [info]roadster_guy's birthday/graduation/summer drunkfest, and attracted about a dozen guests eager to help demolish the liquor supply, with great success. [info]a2andy, [info]alcadd, [info]brendand, [info]brokenbryan, [info]jamie95, [info]merksamer, [info]mrimp, [info]obmoloceoj, [info]odysseyseven, [info]thafuzz, and Andy's non-LJ friend Ben started arriving around 9:30pm and I finally stumbled to bed around 2:30am, having been up since 5:30am the previous morning. The party continued for about another half hour, so I'm told.

Saturday we woke up at the crack of noon and did nothing in particular for most of the day. I didn't even leave the house until 4:30pm to go to the gym. [info]mrimp and [info]odysseyseven showed up at about 6:30 to go see "Snakes on a Plane" at the AMC in Sterling Heights. I have to say it was a really good bad movie. It was funny, cheesy, sometimes gory, and totally unbelievable, which was the whole point. Afterward we stopped at Fourbuck's to pester [info]brokenbryan and use up our free drink coupons.

Sunday was another sleep-in day, but only til 10:30 this time. We drove into Ferndale about 1pm for crepes on the patio at Josephine (yummy!), and endured the noise of the "band", {SomeNamelessDude} & the Sax Maniacs, playing at the corner of 9 Mile and Woodward, which was still closed off because of Dream Cruise. EDIT: Forgot to mention we ran into [info]thirdreel and his parents at Josephine. :o)

The rest of the afternoon Aaron finished packing for London then we were off to the airport. Had a quick shower when I got back and settled in for the inaugural installment of the monthly Rough Trade group action (in City of Heroes, that is). We had about 11 or 12 people at most, with a few rotating in and out over the course of 4 hours. Unfortunately it took almost an hour to get everyone sorted into two teams with appropriate levels, but once we got rolling it was a great time. Knocked out a bunch of missions and gained half a level. 5 bars to lvl 48 for Wire.

Last night I had a nightmare that Aaron had died enroute to, or in, England, and I was getting a bunch of condolence emails. I kept willing it to not be true, eventually realized I was dreaming, and finally woke up. *whew*

He's apparently having a good time over there so far. The new boss is very cool, as are the other employees there, and he's learned a lot about the job already. He expects he'll be over to England a lot. I'd better get to go at least a couple of times. When I talked to him about an hour ago he was about to go check out a pub for dinner.

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Jul 252006

Where the hell is Scosicle, Scotland?

I had some bizarre dreams yesterday morning, none of which seemed particularly relevant to anything going on in the waking world. There was a largish black and white rabbit sitting in a field, with a 1' wireless network antenna strapped to its head, looking very unhappy. Nearby was another rabbit, which was so small, still, and emaciated that when I picked it up it felt like a thick cardboard cutout of a rabbit, covered in fur. I carried it with me to a more fertile field and turned it loose to graze, where it seemed much happier and livelier.

Then I was standing at the base of a terraced hill where a double row of very nice houses was being built, including one for my mother. As I watched, an airliner crashed nosefirst into the ground at the end of the upper row, about three houses from my mom's place. Inexplicably, it didn't fall over, yet I knew that everything (and everyone) inside had pancaked. Suddenly jet fuel gushed out, and a stream of it from a crack in the wingtip shot toward me, looking like a 3D movie effect. I dodged out of the way and ran toward the hill that led up to the second row, knowing the thing was about to catch on fire. Of course it did, and I could feel the heat from 200 yards away. I knew it was going to set Mom's house on fire (along with everyone elses) and I was trying to get her out and safe before that happened. I must have intended for Mom to stay with my in-laws until she could get a new house, and the dream suddenly cut to my mother-in-law yelling, "I can't deal with this! I'm 63 years old! I have my own…" The rest was blurred out.

The dream then flashed to me leading a force which was attacking county Scosicle(?) in Scotland, Dark Age of Camelot style. The whole thing seemed to be a fully immersive virtual reality, where I was actually living in the game, but I could issue game commands mentally; sort of like a holodeck that I could control with my brain.

I and one of my soldiers had tackled the female leader, and I was demanding she surrender the zone to me. At first she refused, and I stabbed her in the neck a couple times. There was no blood but, in a sort of virtual overlay in my mind, we could both see she was taking damage. I signaled again for her surrender, this time using the mental interface, and she finally gave in, knowing she was beat. I unrolled a map like a rubber mat and the county I'd just taken was flashind red on it. The territory I held now stretched north in an unbroken line, and there was some concern about being attacked in the middle from both sides.

I didn't even eat anything out of the ordinary to trigger all this weirdness, but it sure was entertaining.

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