Fucked Up Dreams
I slept off and on for about 24 hours the other day. I had two of the most fucked up dreams I can recall, and took notes about each after I woke up. Now you get to enjoy them, too.
First Dream
There was this old guy who was traveling with a rat terrier and his twin grandsons who were about thirteen. I knew that someone was going to try to kill him. I caught up with him in a train station and led him to safety just before a bomb went off. We were knocked down, but unharmed. His first concern when the dust cleared was his dog.
He told me rather unspecifically that he was an engineer. I told him I was glad, because I needed to repair a train car, and the guy who was supposed to be helping me didn't know what he was doing. Suddenly we were in my mother's basement. He helped me move the train car into the basement. It was a chemical tank car, but it was tiny like it was part of one of those little trains they have at zoos. I was supposed to fix the valve on top, and clean out the toxic chemicals that were in it so it could be used to deliver cooking oil for Seyfert's potato chips (a local brand). I thought that was pretty gross, but all I could do was do a good job cleaning it. We started disassembling the valve, and quickly discovered that the wrong type of valve was installed. Fortunately, the correct one was attached to the wrong one by a short piece of chain.
I wanted to show this guy our garden. The garden was much bigger than in real life. The basement window I bricked in recently was still there, and there were tomatoes in front of it. There were pumpkins all over the yard, and peppers that had been harvested in baskets on the basement door. Some of them were magenta and long like a banana pepper, but shaped like starfruit in cross-section.
Second Dream
I was trying to get to the home of Joy Justice, a friend of a friend whom I met this summer at a party. I have no idea where she really lives, but in the dream she lived somewhere out by Rockhill Park. My form of transportation was a pillow, which I was kneeling on and paddling like a kayak with my hands. I was able to travel this way only because it was raining and the streets were slippery. In Rockhill Park, right where Jefferson goes under the train tracks, there was a concrete wall on which someone had graffitied a slogan about boycotting oil. Shortly thereafter, it stopped raining and I started walking. I went into a truck stop that served Chinese food. The waitress seemed confused about the presence of a white person there - especially one who was soaking wet. I ordered some kind of stir-fry that was covered in yellow paint. As I was leaving, there was a semi that was rigged to carry passengers like a bus. It had a driver and a mechanic/navigator, like a rally car. I boarded it, thinking it would get me closer to Joy's house. But the mechanic saw another truck loaded with 2008 model year motorcycles, hijacked the bus, and started chasing after the motorcycle truck at dangerous speeds - backwards!
Somehow I managed to escape. I think the semi's transmission burned up, because I remember it putting out a lot of smoke. I stole a green MGB like the one my dad used to own and drove it back to my mom's house. My dad was there. I asked him to drive me to Joy's house in the MG, and he was glad to oblige. I told my mom I was leaving with Dad, and she told me that's impossible because he's dead. I said, "he's right there!" and pointed to him. He was lying in the driveway, looking underneath the front of the MG. She couldn't see him. I threw a ball at him and it went right through him. My dad has appeared in many of my dreams since he died. In the early ones, he was always dying. Later, he was just there and it seemed perfectly natural. This was the first dream I can remember where I was aware that I was hallucinating his presence and he shouldn't be there. I thought, great, now I'm really losing my mind! Nevertheless, he drove me to Joy's house. A dead person can drive a car by sitting in the back seat; there's a ghostly set of controls back there.
On the way, I noticed that someone had covered up the graffito in the park with a billboard. When I finally got to Joy's, she had on her kitchen table a giant rubber stamp she'd made. I recognized it as the very one that had been used to create the graffito in the park! She told me that, indeed, she had done that graffito... and spent six months in jail for it. And that jail would not deter her from doing it again. I thought that was pretty awesome.
The end!
First Dream
There was this old guy who was traveling with a rat terrier and his twin grandsons who were about thirteen. I knew that someone was going to try to kill him. I caught up with him in a train station and led him to safety just before a bomb went off. We were knocked down, but unharmed. His first concern when the dust cleared was his dog.
He told me rather unspecifically that he was an engineer. I told him I was glad, because I needed to repair a train car, and the guy who was supposed to be helping me didn't know what he was doing. Suddenly we were in my mother's basement. He helped me move the train car into the basement. It was a chemical tank car, but it was tiny like it was part of one of those little trains they have at zoos. I was supposed to fix the valve on top, and clean out the toxic chemicals that were in it so it could be used to deliver cooking oil for Seyfert's potato chips (a local brand). I thought that was pretty gross, but all I could do was do a good job cleaning it. We started disassembling the valve, and quickly discovered that the wrong type of valve was installed. Fortunately, the correct one was attached to the wrong one by a short piece of chain.
I wanted to show this guy our garden. The garden was much bigger than in real life. The basement window I bricked in recently was still there, and there were tomatoes in front of it. There were pumpkins all over the yard, and peppers that had been harvested in baskets on the basement door. Some of them were magenta and long like a banana pepper, but shaped like starfruit in cross-section.
Second Dream
I was trying to get to the home of Joy Justice, a friend of a friend whom I met this summer at a party. I have no idea where she really lives, but in the dream she lived somewhere out by Rockhill Park. My form of transportation was a pillow, which I was kneeling on and paddling like a kayak with my hands. I was able to travel this way only because it was raining and the streets were slippery. In Rockhill Park, right where Jefferson goes under the train tracks, there was a concrete wall on which someone had graffitied a slogan about boycotting oil. Shortly thereafter, it stopped raining and I started walking. I went into a truck stop that served Chinese food. The waitress seemed confused about the presence of a white person there - especially one who was soaking wet. I ordered some kind of stir-fry that was covered in yellow paint. As I was leaving, there was a semi that was rigged to carry passengers like a bus. It had a driver and a mechanic/navigator, like a rally car. I boarded it, thinking it would get me closer to Joy's house. But the mechanic saw another truck loaded with 2008 model year motorcycles, hijacked the bus, and started chasing after the motorcycle truck at dangerous speeds - backwards!
Somehow I managed to escape. I think the semi's transmission burned up, because I remember it putting out a lot of smoke. I stole a green MGB like the one my dad used to own and drove it back to my mom's house. My dad was there. I asked him to drive me to Joy's house in the MG, and he was glad to oblige. I told my mom I was leaving with Dad, and she told me that's impossible because he's dead. I said, "he's right there!" and pointed to him. He was lying in the driveway, looking underneath the front of the MG. She couldn't see him. I threw a ball at him and it went right through him. My dad has appeared in many of my dreams since he died. In the early ones, he was always dying. Later, he was just there and it seemed perfectly natural. This was the first dream I can remember where I was aware that I was hallucinating his presence and he shouldn't be there. I thought, great, now I'm really losing my mind! Nevertheless, he drove me to Joy's house. A dead person can drive a car by sitting in the back seat; there's a ghostly set of controls back there.
On the way, I noticed that someone had covered up the graffito in the park with a billboard. When I finally got to Joy's, she had on her kitchen table a giant rubber stamp she'd made. I recognized it as the very one that had been used to create the graffito in the park! She told me that, indeed, she had done that graffito... and spent six months in jail for it. And that jail would not deter her from doing it again. I thought that was pretty awesome.
The end!