(no subject)
I had an extremely strange dream today, strange even by my standards. My theory of the meaning of dreams is that they only mean what the dreamer feels they mean. Now that I'm awake, some parts of this dream could be taken as elements of movies or things I've had on my mind, but in the dream they were entirely without emotional association. I am not sure about the order of events, either, but I don't think it matters.
My neighborhood was the same as far as the end of the block, but from there it was connected to the West Main Street neighborhood (west of the river). At work we had a chihuahua that we kept in the bathroom because it had eaten some candy that turns you into a zombie. Whenever anyone ate this candy, their eyes looked like this:
...and they would be extremely happy as long as they kept eating the candy. You could also get the zombieism from the bite of a zombie. We were worried because we were almost out of candy (actually it was one big ball of candy on the end of a toilet bush, like a giant sucker) and we didn't know what to do with the dog. It kept jumping around and it was turning blue because the candy was blue.
There was also an underground book going around that made you into a zombie if you read it. Your eyes would be the same as if you ate the candy, but instead of being happy you would become extremely depressed. I didn't read it, but as the dreamer I knew that the story was a metaphor for life. The reader would be hooked because the first chapter would be about themselves. Somehow new chapters kept getting added to the end of the book, so you could never finish it, yet you were compelled to keep reading. The new chapters were other people's lives, experiences you could not fit into your one lifetime.
They started putting the drug in cereal. There was a guy painting on a bridge. He had wavy shoulder-length dark brown hair and a goatee. He looked like a hippie, and he viewed the events before him with an air of detachment. I don't know what he was painting. Nearby, two boys were fighting over a bowl of Apple Jacks. It fell into the river, and the whole river turned to milk. The boys dived in. One was cured of his zombie craving for cereal, and he looked confused as he floated away, like he wasn't sure how he got in the river. The other went crazy and submerged himself in the milk.
A girl named Mary whom I had a terrible crush on in high school opened a pizza parlor down on West Main. Mary hasn't been in my dreams for years, and I don't think she had the right face, but it was supposed to be her. She put the drug in her pizza, but not enough to make your eyes change - just enough to keep you coming back to her dingy pizza parlor. The bistro tables were across the street from the restaurant. She still didn't get many customers, and she was upset almost to tears about the place being empty, when I stopped in. I sat down outside and ordered a pizza, half plain cheese and half with olives for my brother. (He doesn't like olives in real life.)
Someone had figured out how to broadcast the zombie book over the radio, and Mary was listening to it. At first it was words, but later they figured out how to broadcast a series of clicks and bells that had the same effect. I took out my wallet, and Mary exclaimed, "Oh great! I just got fired by Nikon too, huh?" (By "Nikon" she meant me, even though I have Canon gear; Mary was always the Nikon advocate. By "fired" she meant I was going to throw away her business card and not come to her restaurant anymore.) I shouted, "No!"; I was just going to pay for the pizza. But she stormed off down the street.
There was a pretty blonde girl there who was Mary's friend. She was watching Mary walk away and didn't know what to do. I said, "The story goes on forever. The closer you get to it, the more it hurts." What I meant was that the book, the radio broadcast, the zombie drug, and everyday life were all the same thing. The only way we could be free of the mindless happiness that is really pain, or the hopelessness of working hard and achieving nothing, was to get far away from all of it. It's painful to separate ourselves from material possessions we've become addicted to, but if we can pry ourselves out of that existence, one possession at a time, then we will find peace.
In other news... I got to the gym and my appointment with the trainer isn't until tomorrow. I confuse easily.
And my car is fixed! Yay! I need to give it fresh juices and get it cleaned up for its 200,000th birthday. Go, little Bimmer!
My neighborhood was the same as far as the end of the block, but from there it was connected to the West Main Street neighborhood (west of the river). At work we had a chihuahua that we kept in the bathroom because it had eaten some candy that turns you into a zombie. Whenever anyone ate this candy, their eyes looked like this:
...and they would be extremely happy as long as they kept eating the candy. You could also get the zombieism from the bite of a zombie. We were worried because we were almost out of candy (actually it was one big ball of candy on the end of a toilet bush, like a giant sucker) and we didn't know what to do with the dog. It kept jumping around and it was turning blue because the candy was blue.
There was also an underground book going around that made you into a zombie if you read it. Your eyes would be the same as if you ate the candy, but instead of being happy you would become extremely depressed. I didn't read it, but as the dreamer I knew that the story was a metaphor for life. The reader would be hooked because the first chapter would be about themselves. Somehow new chapters kept getting added to the end of the book, so you could never finish it, yet you were compelled to keep reading. The new chapters were other people's lives, experiences you could not fit into your one lifetime.
They started putting the drug in cereal. There was a guy painting on a bridge. He had wavy shoulder-length dark brown hair and a goatee. He looked like a hippie, and he viewed the events before him with an air of detachment. I don't know what he was painting. Nearby, two boys were fighting over a bowl of Apple Jacks. It fell into the river, and the whole river turned to milk. The boys dived in. One was cured of his zombie craving for cereal, and he looked confused as he floated away, like he wasn't sure how he got in the river. The other went crazy and submerged himself in the milk.
A girl named Mary whom I had a terrible crush on in high school opened a pizza parlor down on West Main. Mary hasn't been in my dreams for years, and I don't think she had the right face, but it was supposed to be her. She put the drug in her pizza, but not enough to make your eyes change - just enough to keep you coming back to her dingy pizza parlor. The bistro tables were across the street from the restaurant. She still didn't get many customers, and she was upset almost to tears about the place being empty, when I stopped in. I sat down outside and ordered a pizza, half plain cheese and half with olives for my brother. (He doesn't like olives in real life.)
Someone had figured out how to broadcast the zombie book over the radio, and Mary was listening to it. At first it was words, but later they figured out how to broadcast a series of clicks and bells that had the same effect. I took out my wallet, and Mary exclaimed, "Oh great! I just got fired by Nikon too, huh?" (By "Nikon" she meant me, even though I have Canon gear; Mary was always the Nikon advocate. By "fired" she meant I was going to throw away her business card and not come to her restaurant anymore.) I shouted, "No!"; I was just going to pay for the pizza. But she stormed off down the street.
There was a pretty blonde girl there who was Mary's friend. She was watching Mary walk away and didn't know what to do. I said, "The story goes on forever. The closer you get to it, the more it hurts." What I meant was that the book, the radio broadcast, the zombie drug, and everyday life were all the same thing. The only way we could be free of the mindless happiness that is really pain, or the hopelessness of working hard and achieving nothing, was to get far away from all of it. It's painful to separate ourselves from material possessions we've become addicted to, but if we can pry ourselves out of that existence, one possession at a time, then we will find peace.
In other news... I got to the gym and my appointment with the trainer isn't until tomorrow. I confuse easily.
And my car is fixed! Yay! I need to give it fresh juices and get it cleaned up for its 200,000th birthday. Go, little Bimmer!