Florida is sunny and so are you
I've had a lot of strange dreams this week. I'm in Florida with Mel, it's absolutely beautiful, incredibly relaxing, and I love it. I've done not much else other than laying around the house (or the beach), reading, sleeping, and watching movies. Same things I'd do at home, but with warm weather and undeniable freedom - which is refreshing. Anyway, before I belie this "dream journal" with real-life accounts of how much I have unexpectedly fallen in love with Porsches, I'll try to recount them for you...
--- In one I remember I was with Mel and she was on tour. I had decided to take time off from the projects I was working on and travel the country with her. The only specific part of the dream I remember, however, is sitting in her tour bus after the show, talking and joking with some other band who...maybe they were opening for her? In any case, we were waiting for her to come out so we could get going.
--- I was running from something. I can't remember what was going on - sadly, because it was dreadfully exciting, I know that much. Glimpses of memories rush back to me: a futuristic hallway, smashing the keypad to a door in an effort to get it open, because I had to keep running from the man chasing me. He had a gun, and I didn't - yet.
I woke up and fell back to sleep. This part of the dream I remember. I was in New York City, looking for a certain man and his family; I had an eerie feeling his children were in danger. And while I wondered how on earth I ever hoped to find them in sprawling Manhattan, I also thought to myself, "Wait a minute...they wouldn't be in Manhattan. Why on earth would they be here? They'd be in Chicago, I'm wasting my time."
WOAH: I just realized that the same street I was on in this dream as I had the above thoughts was the same street I was on in another dream, weeks earlier. I wasn't looking for him then, but I was walking down the street, I was going to the library, and he was there. Or...something...I can't remember. But I do remember running to my apartment (which was very nearby, just up ahead on the left), and wondering what the heck he was doing there. Strange, that this should happen on the same street in my subconcious. The mind is a complex thing.
Anyway, back to the other dream: I gave up my search and started to walk away, when I found myself in a building, dressed in a police officer's uniform, having no idea why I was there, why I was dressed like a cop, or what I was supposed to be doing. I prayed I wasn't a stripper. All I knew was that the two other men in the room - my brother and, of all random people, Christopher Lloyd - were trying to kill me. The utility belt, luckily, did have a gun, and after several bouts of fighting and shooting, I had Christopher Lloyd in some sort of stranglehold and managed to press the right buttons on his vest to make the vest explode in five seconds. So he wouldn't come after me in the meantime, I pretended that I had accidentally done the same to mine and that mine would explode, too. But at the last second (literally), he did something, pulled some cords out, and that deactivated the exploding vest. Shit. Not being dead, he knew that I was not going to die either. Plus, he still wanted to kill me. I ran.
Outside the building there was a parking lot and two men were walking away from a van that looked like the same kind of black trans am my mother drove when I was in kindergarten. "Help, please help me! I'm a cop!" I screamed at them. I don't know why I said I was a cop, for while I was dressed like a cop, I still don't think I was one. But that's all entirely irrelevant now. I ran to these two men and begged them to help me, that people were trying to kill me and I had to get away as soon as possible. They were more than obliging, but as I was walking toward their van I saw in the very back of it the dead body of a girl...she had been dead for a while, and her lips were sewn shut with thick, coarse black thread. I was horrified. The one man knew that I had seen it and pinched my ass before putting his arm around me, saying, "We're helping you, remember?" Yeah, yeah, you're helping me. Terrified, I decided this was still the lesser of two evils, for they weren't actively trying to kill me at this point, at least. I ran to the van and started driving away, but Christopher Lloyd and my brother had cornered the car, so I started to try to run them over as I tried to drive away. But then I lost control and ended up going off the road into the woods (don't ask me where the woods came from). There was snow on the ground and traction was terrible...I thought I'd just keep driving, because even over snow I could drive faster than they could run. But suddenly John Paul was in front of me, and I slammed on the brakes and tried to reverse, but it was too late. I couldn't escape. Then I woke up.
--- There was something to do with King Kong, and Democrats fighting Republicans. But I don't remember. What I remember is the very end, when Katy is crying and mad as hell at me because I killed her boyfriend, and I'm trying to convince her that, no matter how well he spoke or how real he seemed, you can't have an actual relationship with a spider and I'm very sorry for stepping on it. Er..."him."
Oh, and I got into USC. Woot, I have options!
--- In one I remember I was with Mel and she was on tour. I had decided to take time off from the projects I was working on and travel the country with her. The only specific part of the dream I remember, however, is sitting in her tour bus after the show, talking and joking with some other band who...maybe they were opening for her? In any case, we were waiting for her to come out so we could get going.
--- I was running from something. I can't remember what was going on - sadly, because it was dreadfully exciting, I know that much. Glimpses of memories rush back to me: a futuristic hallway, smashing the keypad to a door in an effort to get it open, because I had to keep running from the man chasing me. He had a gun, and I didn't - yet.
I woke up and fell back to sleep. This part of the dream I remember. I was in New York City, looking for a certain man and his family; I had an eerie feeling his children were in danger. And while I wondered how on earth I ever hoped to find them in sprawling Manhattan, I also thought to myself, "Wait a minute...they wouldn't be in Manhattan. Why on earth would they be here? They'd be in Chicago, I'm wasting my time."
WOAH: I just realized that the same street I was on in this dream as I had the above thoughts was the same street I was on in another dream, weeks earlier. I wasn't looking for him then, but I was walking down the street, I was going to the library, and he was there. Or...something...I can't remember. But I do remember running to my apartment (which was very nearby, just up ahead on the left), and wondering what the heck he was doing there. Strange, that this should happen on the same street in my subconcious. The mind is a complex thing.
Anyway, back to the other dream: I gave up my search and started to walk away, when I found myself in a building, dressed in a police officer's uniform, having no idea why I was there, why I was dressed like a cop, or what I was supposed to be doing. I prayed I wasn't a stripper. All I knew was that the two other men in the room - my brother and, of all random people, Christopher Lloyd - were trying to kill me. The utility belt, luckily, did have a gun, and after several bouts of fighting and shooting, I had Christopher Lloyd in some sort of stranglehold and managed to press the right buttons on his vest to make the vest explode in five seconds. So he wouldn't come after me in the meantime, I pretended that I had accidentally done the same to mine and that mine would explode, too. But at the last second (literally), he did something, pulled some cords out, and that deactivated the exploding vest. Shit. Not being dead, he knew that I was not going to die either. Plus, he still wanted to kill me. I ran.
Outside the building there was a parking lot and two men were walking away from a van that looked like the same kind of black trans am my mother drove when I was in kindergarten. "Help, please help me! I'm a cop!" I screamed at them. I don't know why I said I was a cop, for while I was dressed like a cop, I still don't think I was one. But that's all entirely irrelevant now. I ran to these two men and begged them to help me, that people were trying to kill me and I had to get away as soon as possible. They were more than obliging, but as I was walking toward their van I saw in the very back of it the dead body of a girl...she had been dead for a while, and her lips were sewn shut with thick, coarse black thread. I was horrified. The one man knew that I had seen it and pinched my ass before putting his arm around me, saying, "We're helping you, remember?" Yeah, yeah, you're helping me. Terrified, I decided this was still the lesser of two evils, for they weren't actively trying to kill me at this point, at least. I ran to the van and started driving away, but Christopher Lloyd and my brother had cornered the car, so I started to try to run them over as I tried to drive away. But then I lost control and ended up going off the road into the woods (don't ask me where the woods came from). There was snow on the ground and traction was terrible...I thought I'd just keep driving, because even over snow I could drive faster than they could run. But suddenly John Paul was in front of me, and I slammed on the brakes and tried to reverse, but it was too late. I couldn't escape. Then I woke up.
--- There was something to do with King Kong, and Democrats fighting Republicans. But I don't remember. What I remember is the very end, when Katy is crying and mad as hell at me because I killed her boyfriend, and I'm trying to convince her that, no matter how well he spoke or how real he seemed, you can't have an actual relationship with a spider and I'm very sorry for stepping on it. Er..."him."
Oh, and I got into USC. Woot, I have options!