torquill: Art-deco cougar face (Default)
I dreamt that someone was foolish enough to plan a Weeping Angels wedding, and just as the Angels were about to descend on the wedding party, the Doctor (or someone dressed up as him) made an entrance with his companion to save the day, using some kind of video technology that would provide a constant live feed of the Angels to the internet's billion sets of eyes.

I dreamt that he had had a premonition of one of his companions as a member of the undead, with blackened eyes and mouth and pale as a sheet otherwise, and that it worried him all through the process of catching an alien with a Big Gun who was rampaging around -- and then, after capturing the gun and getting it to blow itself to pieces, he looked up from where he was sprawled across the rubble and saw his companion, who had been much closer to the explosion, with black soot all over her eyes and mouth, and concrete dust on the rest. She opened her eyes wide at him and laughed at his expression.

Those were much more cheerful than the dream about watching the bizarrely-colored pillar of flame and smoke rising from a vessel (oceangoing? Maybe an aircraft carrier?) on the other side of the Willow Pass hills, which changed hue as the fire moved from one tank of exotic fuel to another; when we started to hear pop-pop-pop we knew it had moved to the armory, and it was only a matter of time before the big ordnance started to go off.
torquill: Tea cures all ills (tea)
Dreams full of sorrow and strife. Sigh.

Love and loss )

Shutting down a racist )
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (Default)
My brain decided to do Shakespeare last night.

It was a modernized version, but it seemed to capture the right tone. I dreamt that there were two brothers, living in a mansion together. The elder pointed out to the younger that the hand-woven rug that was made for the younger's birth was ragged and worn; the younger agreed, and suggested retiring it and getting a new one to serve as the rug in the entrance hall.

The older suggested that it was a good idea -- that, in fact, perhaps the younger should trade it for a sleeping mat, since both are made to lie on the floor and a bedroll would be of more use to him while sleeping homeless. It was a pretty transparent "GTFO" message.

When the younger asked why the elder was kicking him out of the house, the elder shrugged and said that he already employed four useless men -- in my dream, they were men he kept around to play basketball against on his private half-court, and he went into great detail describing their shortfalls, like the one who had huge hands which were nevertheless as soft as pillows and couldn't hang on to the ball. He said that if he was supporting four such useless men already, what reason did he have to support his brother as well, who did even less to earn his keep?

This strikes me as exactly the tone Shakespeare would have used to establish that the elder brother was an asshole.
torquill: Sarah Jane Smith walking away from the TARDIS, forlorn (Sarah Jane)
My dreams lately seem designed to break my heart.

Missed potential and dreams of the future )
torquill: The devourer of worlds is not impressed. (devourer)
Enough with the bad dreams, already.

Three nights in a row... )
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (Default)
Thursday night: I was in the upstairs bathroom tub taking a shower, but for some reason we had a shower curtain instead of sliding glass doors. The curtain kept sucking inward with the shower spray, and the tub is so narrow that the curtain had a distressing tendency to wrap around me halfway and stick to my skin. I tried to shove it away, but that made it no longer effective as a shower curtain -- the water could get out of the tub enclosure. I finally gave up in frustration. (FYI: I don't think I've taken a shower with a shower curtain since the mid-90s.)

Friday night: I dreamt that I was in Joe's truck cab; the sleeper portion was the size of the upstairs of a train car, and about five of us (plus Joe) were sitting around and chatting. There were bunks on the sides, and I remember thinking that Joe should get some sleep during the time his co-driver was at the wheel, but he kept staring out the picture window at the front and fretting. He was anxious about something having to do with the route, and wanted his co-driver to do it right.

I was with a different friend of mine (someone I don't recognize, a man with long dark hair and a beard) who had taken a tumble, and I offered to check him over to see whether he had put any joints out. There were a couple of tweaks in his lower back -- he had sat down hard -- and one hip was stuck. Finally I checked his tailbone... which extended into a tail about 8" long. The vertebrae were reasonably distinct under the hairless skin, a bit like a turkey neck; I found one joint which was distinctly out of place, but told him it would be pretty easy to fix. He thanked me.

I wanted to see a particular movie at a small theater -- I think it was Raiders of the Lost Ark playing at the new Parkway -- but I realized it was Saturday night and it might be packed. Sure enough, the small lot next to the theater (which doesn't exist) was stuffed except where it was marked off for valet; so was the curb outside. I parked a few blocks over and joined up with someone else who was headed that direction; I told them (someone with a blond cap of hair, gender undetermined) that with that many cars, the theater might be packed beyond capacity, and if the line was out the door we should just give it a pass. We finally got there (some of the intersections were pretty funky) and the line was long, but not out the front door; somehow we managed to get in and see the movie, and I remember a couple of scenes where there was serious crowd participation. My walking partner and I exchanged nods as we left.

Perhaps the oddest dream of all: I was at my place, but there was an open area and a neighbor's fence where the back gate to the hot tub is now. I went back there so that I could have a cigarette without stinking up the house. I had just started smoking because of the stress in my life; this was my second or third smoke. I didn't have any trouble with it, though -- I remember clearly the sensation of drawing the smoke into my lungs and letting it out again, of allowing it deep inside where it could warm me up. After a couple of minutes I felt better, calmer, but I smoked the rest of it anyway, not wanting to waste it. I realized by the end that had been a mistake, as I was really wired. I had trouble figuring out where to put the butt when I was done, since apparently the trash bin wasn't available, and filters aren't biodegradable.

That last one is particularly strange since I have never smoked, never wanted to smoke, and I have trouble with cigarette smoke even secondhand (I cough for days). The thought is repulsive to me now, but it seemed like a totally natural thing to do when I was dreaming.

********

I have no idea whether there is any significance to any of these, but they were all quite clear and vivid.
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (Default)
Apparently I'm a little stressed about my car costing money.

Dreams can be pretty illustrative of the it-could-be-worse philosophy )
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (Default)
When I saw the zombies massing beyond the wall, I knew we were in trouble.

Sometimes my dreams aren't so cheerful )
torquill: Sarah Jane Smith walking away from the TARDIS, forlorn (Sarah Jane)
I've always found stories where the TARDIS gets hurt rather disturbing. The Doctor handles mental and physical injury all the time, and accepts that it's a hazard of the profession. But the TARDIS, like a faithful dog or horse, often doesn't really understand what's happening. It just suffers. I have trouble coping with that as well as I do with other plot points.

The same goes for when my subconscious pulls up a story like that. Last night was particularly dark. I don't know why; it's been a while since I last listened to something like "Her Final Flight".

This is going to color my whole day.

Ugh

Nov. 14th, 2010 15:44
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (Default)
I had a dream last night that I was at a convention and one of the smaller rooms had needed to be closed off because "a guest was ill". Turns out it was converted to an impromptu surgery theater. I accidentally caught the surgeon as he (quietly) left; he decided for some reason that I was okay to talk to, and said that he had removed nearly five centimeters of "pik dik" from the guy's internal organs (maybe his heart). Apparently pik dik is a fibrous organism that battens on to human flesh and lives parasitically... after I woke up I realized it was probably my mind riffing off of dodder. He showed me the extracted stuff, white and sort of filamentous and cobwebby, with lots of side branches. It didn't grow fast, he said, but it was tenacious.

Fast forward to me handling the sample (how and why, I don't know) and getting a bit of it in contact with my skin, where it immediately adhered. Attempts to get it off only made it spread to other parts of my hands. So I had sometimes small fragments stuck to my skin, hard to see, and very hard to get off even by scraping off the top layer of skin. Ugh ugh ugh.

A Google search for "pik dik" turned up nothing but mathematical/logical equations, which makes me feel better. I don't think there is any such thing. Dodder is creepy enough, thanks.

Tired

Jun. 6th, 2009 07:58
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (deadish)
I think I've just had a preview of what my post-grad-school nightmares will be like (much like the dreams about high school we all still have occasionally).

That's the worst night's sleep I've had in a long time.
torquill: Doctor Wilson, thoughtful (wilson)
A few nights ago, I dreamt I was at a festival. Think a cross between Maker Faire and RenFair... grassy areas with pavilions, events going on, and so on. I was due to be at a homemade beverages tasting soon (I had entered some root beer), but I had a little time to spare.

I was out near the back edge, and there weren't many people around there even in midafternoon. It was a pleasant little lawn, and I found myself chatting with [livejournal.com profile] deyo. We were talking about all sorts of things, from the garden that [livejournal.com profile] mactavish tends, to dinner options, to what it was like being friends -- a little bit of substance, but quite casual, and interspersed with small talk. Some comfortable silences between.

Even in the dream, I was very pleased that I was interacting so comfortably with him; in real life, I'd love to, but as soon as I see him my brain utterly locks up and I look like a stammering idiot. I was happy that it didn't happen in the dream, and I was looking forward to finally getting to know him better -- but I had to run off to the tasting.

What was perhaps my clue that maybe it wasn't really [livejournal.com profile] deyo, despite the fact that I called him by name, was that at one point I noticed with startlement that he had a short full beard. That was almost too much for me to believe, even then.

I woke up before I got to see how well my tasting entry fared.
torquill: The devourer of worlds is not impressed. (devourer)
Okay, that was a strange dream.

ramblings )
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (dumb)
Well, the "turn around and find a smiling serial killer at your elbow" nightmare isn't how I would have chosen to wake up, but there it is. At least it happened only fifteen minutes before my alarm was set to go off.

I find that I really couldn't give a flying one about the last final today, despite it being the toughest of the three. I'll run over my notes and give it a shot out of a sense of duty, but it's barely on the radar.

Then it's Thursday night again, and we have a lovely creepy two-part Doctor Who to watch. Yay!
torquill: The devourer of worlds is not impressed. (devourer)
I slept poorly, partly because of the heat and partly because I managed to mash my finger with a rock yesterday. I have a high pain tolerance, but this was bad enough that I couldn't sleep.* Given my general record with painkillers (they rarely do much of anything) I was grateful to discover that a hefty dose of acetominophen did the trick -- though it gave me a bit of a lurch when it kicked in. I took it because I didn't want to take ibuprofen on an empty stomach; I think I'll take my chances with aspirin from here on out.

At least it's only the ring finger on my off hand, and it doesn't seem to mind typing too much.

I'm feeling okay despite all that, though. I still want to know why [livejournal.com profile] deyo was leaning heavily on a cane and looking tired, but unfortunately my dreams rarely come with background information.



* No, it's not broken.
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (dumb)
I hope the people in DC are happy. I hate waking up in darkness.

I woke up even earlier, of course, because of nightmares that Suraklin had succeeded and was now sending armies of black-clothed sasenna after us, with enough magic that they could fade out of darkness like ninjas even in sealed rooms. One of our companions was a sweet honey-haired woman who suggested wistfully we could go to her city/country of Summerlin, but Antryg nixed the idea, saying that no matter where we went, the sasenna would hound us. He looked tired. Joanna was having a nervous breakdown in his arms after flattening a sasennan who appeared in her bedroom while she was sleeping.

I was dealing with an idiot housemate who answered the phone for me and didn't understand hand-signals of "I'm not here" (can't let the people out to kill me know where I am) when I woke up... just in time to wake Nick out of the nightmares he was having. It was an hour before the alarm was supposed to go off, but I couldn't breathe and I finally got up. Now I feel tired and cold.

I would say that I shouldn't read before bedtime, except that I know these books so well by now that I wouldn't have to read them to have dreams like that.

I'm supremely unmotivated in that "it's the last week of classes" way. I really should read my biochem book to figure out what the hell my teacher's rattling on about, but I'm on LJ instead. Go figure.
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (challenge)
It's odd. I've been starting to have the occasional "empowerment dream", in which some guy who really strikes me as bad news comes up and does something inappropriate... and I am completely unperturbed. I actually chuckled a little at the one last night. My dream-self found that guy, and his complete failure to notice that I was wearing a shirt emblazoned with "Personal Safety and Full-Force Self Defense", very amusing. I was certain that I could take him out any time I liked, and that meant I wasn't scared at all. It puzzled him.

In real life what I did was unwise and would give mixed signals, and I am nowhere near so self-assured that I can just laugh off people like that even if I thought it was a good idea -- but I find it interesting that my subconscious feels that confident and safe. The dreams started about a year after Impact, which is probably how long it took to fully assimilate all of it... it feels like a good sign.
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (weirdness)
One of the last snippets of dream from last night involved wanting to keep my drink cool outside in a park. I had a tap, but running water into my soda would dilute it. There was a large cistern or portable pool nearby, filled, with what looked like a plastic tarp or something wrapped all the way around the outside. I figured running water cools things pretty well, so I directed the tap to run into the plastic outside the cistern; that way it could cool the whole thing, as it surrounded the cistern with a sheath of running water and ran off into the ground nearby.

It didn't work that way.

The plastic sheath filled up, but before it could tip out to let the water spill onto the ground, it tipped inward. I had a lip of water-filled tarp starting to fall over into the pool inside... and once it starts to fall, gravity takes over. It started to drag the rest of the tarp up and over. Okay, thought I, time to walk away and find higher ground...

I could see what came next, which was that something buckled, and the whole thing came crashing down in my direction. The tarp unfurled in sections as the water came pouring out of the pool/cistern, and created an ocean with rolling breakers, one crashing after another after another. I laughed hysterically as I ran along the top of a low hill, and the sea crashed against the green "beach" downslope as my laughter cried out like gulls. I had brought the ocean to the park.




I remember thinking at the time that [livejournal.com profile] firestrike would approve.
torquill: Art-deco cougar face (Default)
If that hadn't been Kiefer Sutherland, he would be dead right now for getting that damned song in my head again.

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