Tuesday.
I just woke up from probably the most fucked up dream I have ever had the pleasure of having. Or maybe displeasure. I haven't really decided yet.
It began with being in Philadelphia with Ashlee and Anna and a lot of other people who I can't remember. Then we went to some sort of ski resort and Anna kept making movies where we had to lay on our backs and imitate quotation marks through dance. Much to my disappointment, we left there after a few days to go to another ski resort much further north, named something along the lines of "Whiskey Pub," except the actual name was much more creative. Along the way, I spotted a creepy graveyard that had children's playground equipment intermingling with it, which eventually turned into an assortment of breathtaking and elaborate dollhouses. They were just as big as the playground equipment. I wanted to take pictures of it, so we pulled over and got out of the car. I had my Nikon as well as my Polaroid, and I tried taking pictures with the Nikon first. A large black family was walking through the yard in front of me and kept getting in my way, so I moved deeper into the large field, realizing I must have been in someone's actual yard and might be making someone very mad. Next, two old women started walking towards me, but every time I tried to take a picture, it wouldn't let me. Whenever the viewfinder included the two women, however, the camera would take a picture all on its own, but spit out a "rejected" picture. After it did this twice, I knew something was wrong with this area and decided I had to get the fuck out of wherever I was as soon as possible. The old women were saying things to me, and it was driving me insane. Once we got back on the road, I thought they might be following us, but I never did actually see them again. Instead, we arrived at the hotel, relieved at first but not for long. It turned out that the people at the dollhouse site had hidden some sort of tablets inside our car and our belongings, and after one's skin was exposed to these for about an hour, it would turn the person evil. I'm not really sure if evil is the right word, but the person's skin would turn an eerie, pale red color, and he/she would want to hurt others. It seems pretty "evil" to me. I realized I had tablets in the palms of my hands, and brushed them off immediately, even though I was fairly certain it was too late to save myself. Then my mother, who looked like a blonde version of Shelley DuVall from The Shining in my dream, picked up a wooden stick and started trying to hurt me with it. I picked up a similar stick, and we fought for what seemed like twenty minutes. Eventually, she started setting her stick on fire, which was fine with me because I knew that the more she burned it, the weaker it would become. The rules of the "fight" were that whoever lost the entire wooden portion of her stick would lose the battle. I'm not sure why this mattered since she was practically a zombie and would eat me anyway, but I guess that just goes to show how much sense dreams actually make. Though I was convinced I would be victorious, one slip up left me with intense pain in my thigh, where I knew she had driven her stick. I could feel the blood gushing out of my body. Then, I woke up, and it almost felt like I did it voluntarily. I did not go back to sleep voluntarily to continue the dream, which I am fairly certain I could have done if I really wanted to. It was interesting while it lasted, but it's not something I would like to dream again.
It began with being in Philadelphia with Ashlee and Anna and a lot of other people who I can't remember. Then we went to some sort of ski resort and Anna kept making movies where we had to lay on our backs and imitate quotation marks through dance. Much to my disappointment, we left there after a few days to go to another ski resort much further north, named something along the lines of "Whiskey Pub," except the actual name was much more creative. Along the way, I spotted a creepy graveyard that had children's playground equipment intermingling with it, which eventually turned into an assortment of breathtaking and elaborate dollhouses. They were just as big as the playground equipment. I wanted to take pictures of it, so we pulled over and got out of the car. I had my Nikon as well as my Polaroid, and I tried taking pictures with the Nikon first. A large black family was walking through the yard in front of me and kept getting in my way, so I moved deeper into the large field, realizing I must have been in someone's actual yard and might be making someone very mad. Next, two old women started walking towards me, but every time I tried to take a picture, it wouldn't let me. Whenever the viewfinder included the two women, however, the camera would take a picture all on its own, but spit out a "rejected" picture. After it did this twice, I knew something was wrong with this area and decided I had to get the fuck out of wherever I was as soon as possible. The old women were saying things to me, and it was driving me insane. Once we got back on the road, I thought they might be following us, but I never did actually see them again. Instead, we arrived at the hotel, relieved at first but not for long. It turned out that the people at the dollhouse site had hidden some sort of tablets inside our car and our belongings, and after one's skin was exposed to these for about an hour, it would turn the person evil. I'm not really sure if evil is the right word, but the person's skin would turn an eerie, pale red color, and he/she would want to hurt others. It seems pretty "evil" to me. I realized I had tablets in the palms of my hands, and brushed them off immediately, even though I was fairly certain it was too late to save myself. Then my mother, who looked like a blonde version of Shelley DuVall from The Shining in my dream, picked up a wooden stick and started trying to hurt me with it. I picked up a similar stick, and we fought for what seemed like twenty minutes. Eventually, she started setting her stick on fire, which was fine with me because I knew that the more she burned it, the weaker it would become. The rules of the "fight" were that whoever lost the entire wooden portion of her stick would lose the battle. I'm not sure why this mattered since she was practically a zombie and would eat me anyway, but I guess that just goes to show how much sense dreams actually make. Though I was convinced I would be victorious, one slip up left me with intense pain in my thigh, where I knew she had driven her stick. I could feel the blood gushing out of my body. Then, I woke up, and it almost felt like I did it voluntarily. I did not go back to sleep voluntarily to continue the dream, which I am fairly certain I could have done if I really wanted to. It was interesting while it lasted, but it's not something I would like to dream again.