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Dreaming about Dreamtime
May. 8th, 2021 18:09Sometimes I swear my brain is watching alternate-universe TV when I'm asleep.
( A peek at a Marvel production that hasn't been made )
( A peek at a Marvel production that hasn't been made )
Yeah, this dream was less bizarre to experience than most, but weirder when I woke up...
I was getting together with some friends after a convention or something -- we'd had a good time, and we wanted to go out to a nearby restaurant. We'd been there over the course of the convention, so we all knew it, but it was still kind of new to us. I got there a few minutes after the main group, and with a couple more stragglers I went in.
The owner of the restaurant caught my eye and smiled. Granted, that was the Joker's normal expression, but I couldn't see anything but cheerful welcome in it this time, even though I looked carefully as I returned it. He waved over the head server, an associate of his known only as the Volunteer, to take me to the group table; there was no smile on the server's face, but he seemed relaxed and benevolent.
As I headed to the end of the table where Matt had saved me a spot, I set the pliers I was carrying on the table with a bit more noise than I intended, and was immediately shushed. A few people looked down to the other end, where an apron-clad Joker was taking orders. I exchanged greetings with some of the others, and a cheerful chatter started up, but was again shushed to whispers. Everybody knew that if the place was too loud while the Joker was interacting with patrons, that he would lose his concentration and get frustrated, and nobody wanted him upset.
I murmured to Matt that the Joker seemed to be in good spirits, and even the Volunteer was in a good mood. He replied that they had done some good business during the con, and that Joker had gotten both the respect of various fans and treated like a normal restaurant proprietor, both of which stroked his self-esteem. It wasn't easy for an infamous criminal to go straight without getting ostracized as a freak. But since it had gone well, he was cheerful, and presumably he hadn't been so hard on his old crew, now his staff. Including the Volunteer.
No, I don't know where these come from. I really don't.
I was getting together with some friends after a convention or something -- we'd had a good time, and we wanted to go out to a nearby restaurant. We'd been there over the course of the convention, so we all knew it, but it was still kind of new to us. I got there a few minutes after the main group, and with a couple more stragglers I went in.
The owner of the restaurant caught my eye and smiled. Granted, that was the Joker's normal expression, but I couldn't see anything but cheerful welcome in it this time, even though I looked carefully as I returned it. He waved over the head server, an associate of his known only as the Volunteer, to take me to the group table; there was no smile on the server's face, but he seemed relaxed and benevolent.
As I headed to the end of the table where Matt had saved me a spot, I set the pliers I was carrying on the table with a bit more noise than I intended, and was immediately shushed. A few people looked down to the other end, where an apron-clad Joker was taking orders. I exchanged greetings with some of the others, and a cheerful chatter started up, but was again shushed to whispers. Everybody knew that if the place was too loud while the Joker was interacting with patrons, that he would lose his concentration and get frustrated, and nobody wanted him upset.
I murmured to Matt that the Joker seemed to be in good spirits, and even the Volunteer was in a good mood. He replied that they had done some good business during the con, and that Joker had gotten both the respect of various fans and treated like a normal restaurant proprietor, both of which stroked his self-esteem. It wasn't easy for an infamous criminal to go straight without getting ostracized as a freak. But since it had gone well, he was cheerful, and presumably he hadn't been so hard on his old crew, now his staff. Including the Volunteer.
No, I don't know where these come from. I really don't.
Who heals the Doctor?
Nov. 16th, 2017 10:46It's always interesting to me to see which incarnation of the Doctor pops up in my dreams.
( Returning the favor )
( Returning the favor )
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.
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.
Shakespeare via dream filter
Jun. 19th, 2016 11:21My 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.
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.
Random dreams
Jan. 9th, 2016 16:07Thursday 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.
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.
Apparently I'm a little stressed about my car costing money.
( Dreams can be pretty illustrative of the it-could-be-worse philosophy )
( Dreams can be pretty illustrative of the it-could-be-worse philosophy )
And then I woke up
Aug. 10th, 2015 20:47When I saw the zombies massing beyond the wall, I knew we were in trouble.
( Sometimes my dreams aren't so cheerful )
( Sometimes my dreams aren't so cheerful )
The hazards of fandom
Dec. 28th, 2011 10:24I'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.
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.
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.
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.
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]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deyo. We were talking about all sorts of things, from the garden that 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 reallydeyo, 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.
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
deyo. We were talking about all sorts of things, from the garden that 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
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.
