Stunt Man and Pumpkins [dream]

Out of gas again Linus!

1/26/2002 

Eric H. is on show where he culminates show by coming out as Mephistopheles in ‘57 Chevy. The car is blue with flames painted on the side. It is a convertable with the top down, and the seats are filled to brimming with gasoline, as though the car were left out in a rain of gasoline with the top down. Flaming guy in stunt suit runs and jumps into car igniting it in mushroom cloud explosion. At first after gas ignites and kills Devil guy it’s Eric H. in the stunt suit and he survives. Then, it switches and he dies from stunt and becomes daredevil martyr.

Then, I’m driving home with some girlfriend, I think it’s Lois, on a highway coverid in small pumpkins. Then, the pumpkins start to get bigger and bigger as they flash past the headlights and squash under the tires. Eventually the pumpkins get so large we have to stop and back the car up. Then, the lights come on and it turns out the highway is actually a suspended walkway in a high-ceiling restaurant (weird parallel with Lemke dream in terms of being in dark, weird place in car only to have lights come on).

Someone at the restaurant shows us out the side door. After realizing that the head waitress has a tip jar that is actually a restaurant fund, I go back and put in about $80.00 to help pay for broken pumpkins.

NOTE: had told story about Eric H. recently which may have prompted the dream. Also, in terms of tipping, knowing Lois is what made me start tipping. Also, Eric H. looks a bit like the devil as played by Tim Curry in “Legend” . . . uh . . . without the massive horns and red skin.

Dream Haiku [dream]

O Pointy Bird, O Pointy Pointy . . . Annoint My Head, Annointy Nointy 

1/24/2002, 3:38am 

hmm . . . let this one go for too many days before typing it up . . . absolutely no clue what in THE hell. Here is a literal transcription of chicken scratches:

sentient mold stuff
in crock pot
Growing hot, cold
Afraid it went
dormant only to come
back after 7 days.
made connection to DUI
and woke up

Shopping Mall Psychosis [dream]

It’s Not Just a Movie . . . it’s a Metaphor, Dude!

Take That Naughty Dream Man!

1/10/2002, 5:45am 

NOTE: mostly direct transcript of notes written upon awakening from dream on Fri. 01-10-2002 at 5:45am

This dream starts with me standing in parking lot next to some woman’s car. I have just dropped her off at home and she is asleep up in her apartment. The car, the building, and the parking lot don’t map to any actual place that I know of. I need to take her purse up to the woman because I realize she left it in her car (which I was driving, and so have the key). As I get the purse, I turn around and notice a pudgy woman with dark skin sitting on the bed in the back of a van (sort of like the Leisure Van I owned as teenager) with the side door completely open.

I ask for directions to a fireworks stand where I can return some items I purchased and no longer want. She tells me, and then rolls onto her back on the bed in the van. Her skirt goes up and I walk over and start to play with her pussy. I remember her pussy being very close-up, and very realistic in the dream as I put my mouth on it. We get into a sixty-nine position, and like the “Lois and the Zombies” dream, it is very realistic sexual activity.

The woman tells me she is wearing some kind of condom. It’s some kind of sarah wrap bikini underwear thing. So, we have intercourse. Then, afterwards, I’m stuck debating whether to wake up whatever woman it is that is asleep in apartment above to return her purse that I think she needs the next morning, or whether to just wait until the next day. Then, the dream shifts gears entirely.

I’m riding my mountain bike around inside building; almost like a shopping mall inclosed as one big city (sort of like “Logan’s Run”). In restaurant part of the mall, I ask someone how to get outside the building. I’m told to go out by a certain way, and that once I get outside to go by the bus stop that has old buses, and then past the bus stop with newer buses, and then I can get home.

As I go out the exit, I meet a busboy on his way back in to the restaurant. As we are talking, he announces the arrival of the paperboy. The busboy is so excited about the newspaper that I decide to stay for a moment (still on bike) and read the headline. The headline is about how some celebrity named Lisa Harper (looks a bit like Sandra Bollock) was washed up on shore having accidentally harpooned her own face (and, somehow, she incidentally killed three children . . . the implication that I remember from the dream being that the harpoon passed thru her head and pierced children that were standing/swimming behind her).

The picture on the front page is a graphic, full-color picture of the celebrity lying bloated and dead on the beach with long harpoon through her mouth. Blood, brains, and chunks of disgusting seaweed are mixed together in the sand and you can see the water lapping away up to her chest. The busboy says something about how since the newspaper reports that the incident happened yesterday that it’s hard to believe the photo wasn’t doctored to appear more horrific than it actually was. Also, I remember that the difference between looking at the photo on the newspaper and thinking that I was actually seeing the corpse at my feet was intertwined.

So, I get off the bike (for some reason) and I walk around the corner of the building to a beachlike nook (the outside landscape having become like a coastline, presumably because of the news article. A zombie-like guy (similar to zombies on “Lois and the Zombies” dream) comes out of nowhere and trys to stab me with rusty ill-used knife. He is just swinging away, and I felt a good degree of fear in the dream. Just before he gets me, a woman comes around the corner laughing and tackles him. She is cackling wildly as she starts stabbing him (thus saving me, probably mostly be coincidence). Then, I wake up.

Lois and the Zombies [dream]

Where’s the Cotton? 

1/8/2002, 6:48am 

NOTE: interpretation of wild, chicken-scratch notes written upon awakening from dream on Tues. 01-08-2002 at 6:48am In this dream, the standout image (initially) is having sex with Lois. I mean . . . it’s very realistic considering that I haven’t typically had very many realistic sex dreams. And it’s really awesome dream sex. We are doing this in the living room of some unknown house. Just as I’m very near climax in the dream, we are interrupted by a call from Norman. I remember being really annoyed (as if he may have actually known he was interrupting a crucial moment). As I’m talking with him on the phone, other residents of the house are waking up and coming into the living room.

I distinctly remember Sabrina K. rubbing her sleepy eyes and sheepishly realizing she didn’t have a top on. And Tom comes out into living room as well. He is sharing my annoyance with Norm because Norm wants us to get some kind of postcards or letters printed and delivered somewhere. We have to do this task soon or right away, and it’s annoying because it all has something to do with Norman wanting/needing this done to impress some woman he is seeing.

Anyhow, we go immediately from hanging up with Norman to me looking out a window and seeing zombies approaching the house through the moonlit yard. Then, all I remember is fighting an army of zombies, one by one, by myself. They are there with big sticks, needles, and cotton. They mean to disembowel us, stuff us full of bloody cotton, and sew us back up (make us zombies too?).

Alien HawkPlatter [dream]

Image Relation To Actual Dream Ratio = 0:1 . . . but wasn’t Hawkman awesome? 

1/3/2002, 7:30am 

NOTE: mostly direct transcript of notes written upon awakening from dream on Fri. 01-03-2002 at 7:30am

Woke up at party (in the dream). I was lost and confused. Tried to call someone, anyone. I go outside and find my truck. It has posters of Dewer’s girls all over it and one has “Frank” written on it. So, naturally, I’m thinking Frank B. and perhaps others did as a joke. I am amused until I notice that the pickup bed is missing! I mean, it’s been torch welded right off and is gone! My ride has been chopped. Also, the roof is barely attached, and the whole thing has been tortured with welding torch.

There follows a long sequence involving going to a furniture warehouse to buy a new truck. I remember talking to salespeople about trucks, but only merchandise in sight is sofas, mattresses, and lamps (etc.). Then, Tom shows up and is driving me somewhere: this is odd because he’s driving my truck, and the truck shouldn’t actually have back wheels . . . dreams are weird.

He insinuates things and I come to conclusion that he and others have done this to my truck as preparation for some amazing gift involving having redone the truck and tricked it out like a cover story low rider type thing. Tom takes me to a weird building (kind of a construction, mobile office thing but very large) in Texas. I get a glimpse of the sweet, tricked out truck that I think my friends have put together for me. My real suprise, though, is when I hear an announcement on the PA that Crystal Method is putting on suprise mini-concert right here in the middle of goddamn nowhere. I realize this is part of my “birthday” suprise, and run to the small stage happy as hell. For some reason, the Crystal Method sort of morphs away and it becomes a trippy, cool folk rock type band with an odd lead singer that reminds me of George Clooney and his fake beard in “O Brother, Where Art Thou”.

What does any of this have to do with the title of the dream: “Alien Hawkplatter” . . . I have no clue. It’s just a strong phrase that come to mind as I scribbled out the note to myself in the wee hours. Can’t recall it’s connection to actual dream material.

Frosting Hose [dream]

Train ‘em when they’re young.

1/3/2002, 5:49am

NOTE: mostly direct transcript of notes written upon awakening from dream on Fri. 01-03-2002 at 5:48am

Took Jeff Babbitt to a Krispy Kreme donut shop in Alaska (they don’t have one yet at this time, as far as I know). They do not offer us the free donut (as I would have expected from my one and only visit thus far with Craig and Andrea in AZ a couple months ago). I’m disappointed because I had told Jeff they would offer us hot, fresh donut for free and now I’m looking like an ass. Also, their frosting hose is caked over and just barely drizzling. [It must be noted that in my one visit to Krispy Kreme that I was totally amazed and stupified by the grotesque frosting hose that returned the dripping frosting back up to a mechanism that kept it pouring like a curtain of frosting for the donuts to glide thru on conveyor belt].

So, anyhow, the frosting hose is in sad shape. The frosting is brown and barely moving. I started chewing out the operation and finally the manager come to take me around to the back of the counter to crtique the store.

Then, I guess the dream just shifted entirely, or a second dream was appended to the first one upon awakening. In this “piece” it was a dream sequence with my dad and a bunch of other peolpe who were “family” (but not all recognizable to me in the dream), including an Angelica Huston-type woman (attractive, older, and regal) who was being judged because she was protective of her daughter. I told her the problem was that her actions could not be anything but misconstrued if she stopped to think about the limited information everyone else had and how it would look to them if she thought about it from their perspective.

The OstrichHorse and Poo [dream]

 

1/2/2002
NOTE: mostly direct transcript of notes written upon awakening from dream on Thur. 01-02-2002 at 5:08am

Had dream I was sleeping with Heather Kemp in some sort of weird animal pen that had crumbling balconies. I was aware that I wasn’t her true love but just dallying, which was okay because I didn’t actually want her to be my true love. I also remember there was some sort of overarching Venus versus Medusa theme going on in the dream and that it seemed like Heather and I were merely actors in a play (i.e. it was not real within the unreality of the dream itself).

Anyhow, she was an miniature ostrich with a horses head. She was asleep, and I was petting her horse’s nose. And then she crapped and peed all over me. She was embarassed as I woke her when I jumped up. I felt bad at being human and being trained to go to the bathroom and my inability to just lay covered in crap and pee in the the hay and be happy about it.

Poison Mind and Dead Baby

Poison Mind

1/1/2002
This was one of the few nightmares I’ve ever had, that I can recall. The dream was long and involved, but I can only recall a few key things. The first thing is I remember that Norman and I were roommates in the dream, but in a structure that was unfamiliar to me; it didn’t seem to mirror any real apartment I can recall. Norman enters my bedroom with my mom. My mom is wearing only a towel as though fresh out of the shower. I remember they were talking in such a way and making allusions that seemed intended to trick me into thinking they had just had sex together. It seemed so absured, unlikely, and in bad taste, that I basically just ignored them and refused to enable the cruel trick by paying any attention to it.

Then, later in the dream, Norman and I were standing in the dark kitchen watching scummy water slowly drain from the kitchen sink. As the water level crept down, we saw the dead, waterlogged hand of a dead baby stuck to the metal sides. In horror, we watched the water get lower and lower, incrementally revealing the horrible, white, bloated corpse of a long-dead, soaked baby. It’s eye sockets were empty, the eyes having long ago merged with the scum in the water as dissapated chunks. And to make the matter even more horrific, the baby’s flesh began to cave in upon itself and transform. Eventually, the baby’s puckered and putrid flesh took the form of a weird, alien flesh plant sitting in the sink.

The flesh plant began to talk to us in commanding, convincing, but poisonous tones. I can’t recall the details of what it was saying, but remember that it was speaking evil, yet honeyed words, that had the power of the ancient sirens that are said to be able to lure sailors to their death on the rocks. The only phrase in particular that I recall is the creature glorifying the power of the “poison mind”.

The rest of the dream was filled with horrible images, scenes, and creeping dread. The only detail of which I remember is getting out of the dream bed and finding that thick, bloody ooze was spreding along the floor in sentient tendrils that defyed gravity. When I awoke from the dream, I had a hard time getting back to sleep because the shadows in my room seemed thick and alive. Very disturbing dream.

Cujo and Cookin’ [dream]

Ou Est La Salle De Bain?

7/30/2001

Had a couple of odd dream snippets in last few days:

One dream took place in this amazingly complex Moebius-type futuristic city full of pipes, metal, ducts, and girders. It was like going through Commerce City here in Denver times fifty. Anyhow, the main thing I remember is being in some apartment that apparently was the dream dwelling of Robert and Sonia Rossney. Robert was showing us his latest cool thing. It was a typical formica-topped kitchen table with it’s legs cut down to varying lengths between 8 to 18 inches or so, and the edges sort of carved/shaved off. So, the table was sitting at a lopsided angle near the floor on it’s variously stubby legs. Robert was showing us how you could fry breaded trout (or chicken) on the surface of the table. This was due in part to the unique, exacting leg lengths and trimmed edges of the table, as well as four very large votive candles in metal holders that were lit and sitting under the table. For some reason, this contraption was incredibly mysterious and fascinating in the dream. At one point, Robert moved the table and candles into the hall to show how you could safely fry your food even while the setup was on top of carpet in a narrow hallway.

Rabid Lapdog . . . or is that the owner that’s rabid?

The other dream snippet from the last couple of evenings is pretty fuzzy. All I remember is that it involved a vicious, killer dog that was like the famous lapdog Benji gone really bad. It was as though Cujo has been rewritten so the star was a rabid lapdog instead of a Saint Bernard. Not sure what happened with or to the dog, but only that it was actually a scary dream and not the funny thing you’d think since the monster was so small.

Rotting Wood [dream]

7/6/2001
This dream is very very dimly remembered. However, I do recall that it had to do with being in a house (not recognizable) damp with seeping moisture from the pounding rain outside. I think Norman owned this house that didn’t resemble a house from real life. I was pointing out to Tom that there were water stains on the ceiling, and a particular portion of one wall that looked like it was in danger of collapsing from water damage. We started to show it to Norman, and then the wall caved in and water poured in.

The next part of the dream took place within a huge set of wooden walls and crossbeams that formed structure for house. It had roof, but no walls or interior. I believe this skeletal house was on the old Babbitt property. I mostly remember that I (the “camera”) was floating around the scaffolding, finding lots of rotten boards and weak wood. I was pointing these bad pieces out to myself, but there was also another sort of distance presence in the house that I think might have been Shawn Babbitt.

The parallels between this dream and the Watery Mansion dream are bizarre. Both involve home structures, lots of water, and floating/flying first person perspective.