Oct. 5th, 2012 07:39 am
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So last night, I dreamed that I came up with the idea of Cybernetic Ghandi. There's probably some actual relevant meaning to that image which I should be looking at, but for now, CYBERNETIC GHANDI! In the dream, I spent a bunch of time looking at the dates for Ghandi's life to see if I could fit him into my dieselpunk world. Morning has come, and I have done the Real Life wiki search, and indeed, there may be room for some form of mechano-Ghandi in my WWII era fantasy.


Sep. 29th, 2012 08:31 am
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Exciting dream last night, which I suspect was inspired by the spy-filled episode of White Collar I'd just watched. Me and a bunch of other people were looking for this thing. Hell if I know what the thing was, I don't even remember what it was called (it started with a B. Wait, I think it was Burke-something. Thanks, White Collar.) Anyway, we'll call it the MacGuffin, since that's what it was.

It took place at this fancy resort that was full of pools and marble columns a la Hearst Castle.

After a whole bunch of roaming around and adventures I don't clearly remember, i whispered the code phrase in the ear of the bald coffee shop barista, and he told me where the MacGuffin was. (Across the street from the resort, in case you're wondering.) My companions ran off to get the thing, and I was left to worry about Beethoven. Now this wasn't actually Beethoven, just a guy who kind of looked like Beethoven with a ponytail and a leather jacket, and I suppose represents my unhindered creativity or something. Beethoven was protecting me. (I was The Girl, you know, the one in a pretty dress who gets dragged around and gets in the way. I acknowledged this fact in the dream, and vowed I would be better than that.)

We were constantly on the lookout for Dabney Coleman, who was the hit man working for the Big Bad Guy who was also after the MacGuffin. Once we got the MacGuffin, and thwarted Big Bad Guy's plans, Dabney Coleman kind of went nuts and killed a lot of people. And I mean a lot. We were walking through the grounds of the resort, and bodies were everywhere, hack apart and with their heads chopped off. At least a hundred. All those people, some of them in little piles of two or three, but most of them isolated lumps of blood, flesh and fancy clothes on a marble courtyard.

That's when I discovered that Beethoven was missing. He'd gone off to confront Dabney Coleman. We looked around, but there was no sign of him. Then, I realized where he'd gone -- back to our hotel room. I think we'd confronted Dabney Coleman there before or something. There was some very narrative-based reason for going there. Anyway, I thought Beethoven was nuts for going in without support, and I ran over there as fast as I could. The stairs to the third floor was jammed with people coming down, but I made it up there and found the door.

I peered through the peephole, and when I saw the shadow of a man approaching the door, I dashed around the corner to where another room had its door open. I closed the door just in time to avoid a gunshot. The room I was in was dim, but full of junk of all kinds. Peering through my own peephole, I saw Beethoven come into the hallway. I was about to go after him, but Dabney Coleman emerged and they started arguing right in front of my hiding spot. Now, Dabney Coleman didn't know I was there; he had no reason to think The Girl would be coming to the rescue.

I rummaged through the stuff around me, and found an awl. I didn't see any guns or other distance weapons, so I took the awl, opened the door, threw the thing at Dabney Coleman, and shut the door again. I missed him, but got his attention. He broke the door down, but I'd grabbed a power drill and jabbed it into his chest as soon as he came in. He slumped against a wall, and I poked the drill at his head. This was a rather awful moment, because A) I was killing a person and B) the drill was taking forever to go through his skull, and I had no idea how long such a thing was supposed to take.

Anyway, Dabney Coleman was destroyed, the MacGuffin found, and I awoke being slightly disturbed by the whole drill into someone's skull thing.


Aug. 30th, 2011 05:52 am
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This weekend exhausted me, and/or I'm coming down with something. I'm inclined towards the former, however, since I don't feel anything other than tired. What I did was a big thing for me, and I expected to feel more while I was doing it. However, I didn't, which was probably good, and I'm now recovering from the huge energy expenditure.
But life goes on, and I need to be sharp today. Most of my co-workers, as I've mentioned, are Muslim, and have therefore been observing the holy month of Ramadan. Now that the end of Ramadan is here, they spend a day or two celebrating, and will mostly be out of the shop. I volunteered to come in early to open. However, I wasn't certain that today was the day I'd be doing this. It all depends on when/if the moon is spotted. So it would be either today or tomorrow. They told me they'd give me a call the evening before, when they knew. Because the weather's good, it was most likely a go. I'm fine with this, but as I said, I was exhausted, and passed out around 7. First, I was awakened by a junk mail call, which of course I thought was my co-worker when I picked it up. I'm sorry, Scott the Carpet Cleaner, but as soon as you said, "Don't hang up!" I hung up. I might have said, "I'm not interested, thanks anyway," before hanging up otherwise.
Then I fell asleep and dreamed.
I dreamed I was watching for the moon with my co-workers. I was pointing to my tattoo, noting that I happened to have the crescent and star symbol worked into it. (In real life, not really, though there is a crescent) The crescent was limned in twenty-one stars (I think. I was trying to count them in the dream and having difficulty) There were concentric circles of stars, each circle with a different number, but they added up to twenty-one, and were ultimately a single circle. I looked up and saw a tree or something with the exact same flame shape as my (actual, real) tattoo. I was overcome with emotion. I also saw the new moon, which was in the east and caused some confusion even for my dream self.

Then the phone rang, and it was my co-worker, telling me that they'd decided to do it today. Despite my sleepy state, I managed not to say, "I know."


Aug. 3rd, 2011 09:39 am
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A friend of mine wanted to use this special kind of internet connection that turned out to only be available in the "Brooks Islands" off the northwest coast of Alaska. He had some special, magical way of getting out there, like a potion or something. Anyway, we poofed on out to what at first seemed like a desolate place, but was actually well populated. At some point, I had to pass through a hall full of wolf-bears, flying above them with moderate effort. When I got through that, I met the girl who took care of the wolf-bears. She helped me into town, where I looked into a plane ticket to Anchorage. When I discovered it would cost $4000, I decided I'd opt for my own magical way back. So i asked the girl to take me to a liminal place, like the beach. She took me to a room in her house. I was like, well, whatever, and started to improvise a spell of my own that would take me home. Then I woke up, and I've been mesmerized by this dream ever since.


Feb. 5th, 2011 07:35 am
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I've been having a lot of liminal dreams lately, mostly involving sea life on the shore. Lots of glowing sea anemones and such, though last night, I went to a ship graveyard on what was basically Inishmore. The wrecks of old sailing ships were perched rather neatly on the sheer cliff, and I had a guide to which boat was which. It wasn't a scary dream, though.

There was also the dream with Steve Gould hitting my dad's VCR with an ax in order to get it to record right. A little while after this incident, it slowly occurred to me, and I said, "I don't think my dad's going to like this." And poor Steve was horribly embarrassed.
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I dreamed last night that I had to drive Barack and Michelle Obama to my church (which in this dreamworld was actually a place I'd feel comfortable going to, being sort of a cross between Catholicism and UU.) Mind you, I wasn't the one driving--there was a chauffeur--but I was in charge of it all.
However, the route we took led us right through the racetrack at Emerald Downs. Fortunately, at the last minute, just as I was waking up, I turned into Jedi!Criada and used my superAwesome Magic to drive the horses away.

In all, an obvious dream, and, I think, a good one.


Aug. 23rd, 2010 06:22 am
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Last night before bed, I watched A Fistful Of Dollars. Then, I had a dream which focused on my efforts to convince people that Clint Eastwood in that movie had the same hair as George Jetson.
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I can't say I've ever had any dreams like the ones in Inception, until today.
Spoilers, a little.
Read more... )


Jul. 22nd, 2010 07:37 am
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I had a rather complicated dream in 2.5 parts. I haven't remembered my dreams lately, but this might be because of my alarm clock, whereas today I get to sleep in (not that I did.)
First, there was my Uncle Bruce (the uncle with kids, not the uncle in the army.) Something about him being written into the story, and Neil Gaiman was going to literally erase him soon. There were towers we walked up and down, and a child who was upset. I think the latter was [livejournal.com profile] jaylake daughter, and that might be an insight.
I would think that if I was dreaming about Jay's cancer drama, I'd dream about him directly. But there's more Jay-ish associations later, though I don't want to define these people by the man in their life! Though I am anxious about the is-it-or-isn't-it cancer, I think Jay's situation just provided me with an excellent imago for the powerful symbol of a child facing the loss of her dad.

We ended up having dinner in one of the towers with ICP. [livejournal.com profile] plunderpuss knew them from somewhere, and they were boisterous but nice. I guess one of them had a nice aquarium.

Then I was wandering some northern Scottish town (right on a bridge leading across a channel north, though we were already at the northernmost tip of Scotland. (I later discussed this place with Charlie Stross. There was also stuff about him getting a shave. I needed a shave too, but was terrified of rusty Scottish metal. I love you, Scotland, I really do.)
I was trying to get a city bus in this town with [livejournal.com profile] calendula_witch. We walked through a park, away from a local festival which was full of juggalos having a balloon parade.

We went into a hotel lobby, where a child was playing with a baby seal in an aquarium. (submerging herself fully in the water) The managers of the hotel turned to me and [livejournal.com profile] calendula_witch and ordered us to fix the aquarium, which had a bunch of burnt and rotting animals in it. (I remember sea stars with the tips of their arms burnt.) I had no idea what to do beyond cutting away the bad part.* Then I remembered that ICP was great with aquariums!

*Sudden Insight! I went to bed thinking about how I'm going to cut off the burnt ends of my hair at the beach. I must now meditate upon how nurturing a fanatical fanbase will make my hair grow back. Okay, in seriousness, the blog Overthinking It has a fascinating article on A Juggalo Theory of Value on the benefits of having a core of batshit admirers. (See, Twihards, Tea Partiers, etc.) And when I had my hair burning accident, I'd just made my first sale. I imagine the dying aquarium might refer to my creativity, which feels about like that lately. I took a break to read, but I'm not feeling inspired. So how does surreptitious control of a band of misanthropes help me? Maybe it's just that I need to look to unexpected places for inspiration? Anyone know any Juggalos I can have dinner with?

And meanwhile, my estranged uncle has been erased from existence. Then again, he was erased because he didn't belong there, and he really is an anomaly in the rest of the dream. Could I possibly have been experiencing a first draft of the dream? I was looking at Neil Gaiman as a master writer figure, but he could well have been Dream of the fricking Endless, couldn't he? In the dream, my uncle wasn't going to be erased until morning. Thanks, Neil, for the time with an uncle I never get to see.


Feb. 5th, 2010 07:59 am
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I dreamed I went to a museum in downtown Seattle with my parents. We parted ways when the museum closed. I had to get to the ferry, and decided to walk the few blocks. I kept getting encouraging text messages from my dad. The phone would go off with a gentle >ping!< Then, I woke up, and the pinging continued. WTF?
Turns out, I'd forgotten to turn on my alarm. I was using a streaming radio alarm on my ipod, but I wanted to test it first and therefore leave my regular alarm on too. Forgot to do that latter part. For some mysterious reason, my streaming radio program doesn't use radio as the alarm, but rather, this gentle, soothing pinging.

No wonder I was dreaming of heading to the ferry. My brain was telling me I was on my way back to waking.
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Also, a friend had a dream about me that resonates enough that I'm going to pretend I had it myself. In it, I had to lick people. I could like one girl who tasted good, but it wouldn't pay much money, or I could lick another girl who tasted terrible, but would get me a lot of money.
That said, I don't feel like this is actually a choice I'm facing in my life, even if it does highlight a personal issue twitching around in my heart. I don't feel like I have to make any compromises, but I can see how some outsiders might think that.
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Haven't been sleeping well lately. Unpleasant dreams are either a cause or a result. Three in a row that have to do with imprisonment. The first involved my fishtank. I wasn't in the fishtank, but there were definite imprisonment themes going on. Second, oh dang, it's fading already. I was in prison witha buncho f friends (don't know what for) and they would come and go as they wanted. I was afraid for all of us, because hey, it's prison and they don't let you do that. Obama visited us.

Last night was the scariest of all. My family and I were traveling to Montana, where my grandparents live, but it turns out my dad didn't have a car. So some lady drove us to Bellevue, and there, my dad stole an SUV. This, of course, freaked me out. While still in town, we stopped at a Mexican restaurant, where my dad carried in a duffel bag with a million dollars some kind of deal with a gangster. (Who wasn't Mexican, mind you.) I asked if said gangster was going to give us a car to do his dirty work in. No. When I left, I was wearing only a sheet. No idea what happened to my clothes. Then, it turned out I hadn't packed any other clothes. I tried to get my dad to get a rental car.
Eventually the cops found us. I soon woke up, but the policelady was nice to me.

This might also be what I get for reading, "I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream," right before bed. Thankfully, I didn't suffocate beneath the weight of The Essential Ellison, which is literally bigger than two Robert Jordan paperbacks placed side by side.
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We had to teach cats how to swim because the Australian Secret Police was after them. In the dream, "cats naturally suck water into their glands when submerged." However, we were able to overcome this, and proved how naturally fit cat were to underwater living because of the way their noses were shaped. There were many scenes of cats gracefully twirling underwater and poking their noses up to breathe.

Today is the total and complete opposite of last Friday. It's so quiet, I'm terrified I'm missing something. It's also my last day running the department by myself, and I kind of wish it would end soon.

I caught a rejection in my spam folder. I go through phases where I'm good and bad at checking the dang thing. It's got me freaked out that I might miss (might have already missed!) something important.

A pirate walks into a bar, with a steering wheel sticking out of his pants. The bartender notices the oddly placed gadget, and inquires, “Why do you have a steering wheel in the front of your pants?” The pirate replies, “Yarrr, it’s drivin’ me nuts!”

Mental Health:
It's my off week for birth control, so maybe that's why I haven't been freaking out. It's been a pleasant, neutral week. (For those who don't know, my insurance swapped brands on me, and it's doing to me what they steering wheel's doing to the above pirate.)


Aug. 24th, 2009 02:28 pm
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Last night I had a dream about my Green Night characters. In the dream, I thought, "This dream is totally telling me how to fix this book!" Unfortunately, this magical fix involved:

Trees magically appearing when sex happens. (not how magic usually works in that world. Beside, wtf?)
Keeping the action focused in one location, rather than as a travelogue. (Um...it is already)
Transformers. Bumblebee, to be precise.

That said, the dream was fun and sex-filled, because that's what happens when I watch Tudors right before bed.


Aug. 20th, 2009 05:33 pm
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Last night, I dreamed the Land of the Dead was a place we could and did regularly visit. Apparently this was something I did on a regular basis, as I had a small apartment there. No idea what I did there, but I'm sure that if I could have a private getaway in the Underworld, I'd totally take it.
At some point, I actually died. (No idea how.) My parents took me to the entrance, where it was very crowded and it was hard to find a quiet space to say goodbye. Normally, I'm content with a casual wave goodbye, but this time, I was upset, because it was the last time I'd ever see them. (Only the living could come and go.)

So then I was dead and actually living in my underworld apartment full time. It was just like our world, except there was no need for jobs. At first, I realized I was going to be an incredibly bored soul; then, I realized I finally had time to read everything I wanted to read!

I went to a shopping center. The cashier* was my old boss from the Whatcom Independent. I asked what she was doing there, and she said she'd died a few weeks after I had. I got the impression time passed more quickly outside.

In order to buy something, you had to fill a card with credits by sticking it in a machine and focusing on old, unpleasant memories. I never did figure out if the memories vanished entirely or were left intact and could therefore be reused.

*Yes, I know I said there was no need for jobs. It's a dream, shut up.


Jun. 29th, 2009 07:11 am
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I dreamed I watched a tv show that started out as an alternate universe Deadwood. As a result, there were loads of children running around, and everyone was very nice. I think Swearengen was the new schoolteacher ("I'm so looking forward to working with families!")
There was also Ryan Stiles in a wheelchair, and groups of new people arriving every day, all of whom wore black hats.
Despite the premise that this was a world where everyone grew up differently and took different paths and were different people, there were logic flaws, like the fact that the widow whats-her-name was dragging around her husband in a radio flyer wagon, since he'd only been crippled by his fall in the regular tv series, but that only happened because Swearengen was a bastard and not a schoolteacher who looked like Mick Jagger.
Then, after a few episodes (hey, it's a dream, episodes went by fast) it turned out there were people who remembered the old Deadwood. Two of them were old henchmen, who were clearly gong to be villains. [livejournal.com profile] mcjulie had put herself in charge of gathering up those who remembered the old ways, because in fact, something had happened ("You remember the red buoy and the blue buoy?" she asked. "Umm... yes?" I responded.") and the entire town had been whisked into happy land.
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I've had a couple dreams lately where I've tried to talk to guys I know (whom I've either dated or crushed on) and was unable to, either because the opportunity never came up, we just weren't able to understand each other, or, in one case, he was in a coma. I think this means I've lost touch with my animus, and I'm not sure what that means for me, or what I can do about it. But hey, I get to go mucking about in my subconscious, which I haven't had to do in a long time, and which I actually enjoy.

Other things I enjoy but don't often get to do: study at the university library. Having seen this awesome video on Youtube (see below) I realized I needed to study Georgia and the surrounding cultures for my novel. So I dug up books on the Scythians and Sarmatians, as well as more recent stuff. This is all to brainstorm the imaginary culture my characters are descended from. So I'll find awesome tidbits like how Sarmatian maidens supposedly had to kill a man in battle before they could marry. Sarmatian women were equal, Scythian women, not so much. My fake culture's women are somewhere in between, but I've filed it away to use for a neighboring culture. My evening was like that, skimming through books and mentally dealing out ideas like cards to different parts of the cultures. When I found something that was relevant to the culture I'm immediately focusing on, I copied it or checked out the book.

And then I found a knee chair on the way home, and I carried it to my work for my co-worker who's been looking for one. It needs some love, but Ryan's just the kind of fixer-upper to do that. Now my biceps hurt, but I'm happy.
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A long, complicated dream that was nightmare-level creepy. Despite numerous repetitions, it's fading fast. It was Spiderman 4, but halfway through, I realized this wasn't a fun action movie, but a horrible, exitential tale of woe. Toby MacGuire/Peter parker was literally full of holes, and had lost a foot from previous adventures. He was running from invisible Miss Piggy. Seriously. Invisible Miss Piggy was terrifying. At that point, he was also Kermit, running from her overly-enthusiastic affections. There was a sky dive jump, repeated several times. One woman, one man, and Tobey/Peter. One time, both the man and woman were filled with holes upon landing. In another version, only the woman was, but the man loved her and tried to kill Tobey/Peter. Another time, I (I think I was the woman) was lying in a field, injured from landing, and there were two dogs approaching--a snauzer and some other small dog--and it was very sinister. However, I was assured that the nine-inch high caryatid statue, which was broken in two pieces, that I had in my care was fine. I remember wondering why the statue wasn't in a museum, but rather out where it could be damaged, though I didn't wonder too hard since then I wouldn't have it.

I'm going to have to work with this dream. It was too irrationally creepy not to.


May. 11th, 2009 08:13 am
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Dreamed [livejournal.com profile] mcjulie was dating Gandalf in secret. I was jealous.


Apr. 15th, 2009 10:16 am
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I had a rather feverish dream last night about watching Twilight. I haven't seen it yet, though in my dream, I had. It involved flying, which was good; but that was flying with a family of sparkly vampires, which wasn't. Bella had already become a vampire, and was a creepy twelve year old trapping people under an overpass* to sate her new hungers.

*which, I now realize is the single weirdest part of the dream. Overpass? In Forks? WTF?


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