Art by MeddygonThere is a fine line \ Between genius and madness. \ It is called timing.

I felt naked in that room. No one was looking at me like I was naked, but I was certain felt like I physically had no clothes on. It was an art class, and I feared that people would take my nakedness to be an art statement; a “bold” but insignificant comment on the nature of showing art. If was the end of the semester, and everyone was meant to show their body of work. I felt like I had none.

I left. If they weren’t seeing my nudity, then no one else would. As I walked down the city street, no one noticed the flaws I saw in myself. I glanced at my reflection as I passed shop windows and saw that I was dressed. I don’t remember putting on clothes, but I was clothed all along.

I felt pressured in that room. Everyone was looking at me. The instructor said, “If you’re so fast and skilled, draw [description of two things to draw]”. I looked for paper, but none of it was large enough.
“Mr. Ross, can you give me some paper?” I continued to look for paper in my bag, around the room, something.

I looked for tools, but none were the right ones. When I would find one suitable I would start to draw, but then something would break. Or it would go missing as someone else took it.

I’d find black paper, but then be unable to find white pens or pastels. I’d find light paper, and not be able to find pencils or charcoal.

Those around me also were producing art faster, but not at the quality I would want coming from my fingers. They didn’t meet the requirements of the description, but they were happy to just do the work. They were making the art they wanted, not the art that was required.

The deadline approached and the instructor asked why I hadn’t started. “I usually work larger, sir.” He produced a sheet of paper around 8’x5′ and I started to draw. I sketched one figure, and my charcoal was gone. I looked for more but could find none.

I wanted materials. The room was full of scrap paper, cut at odd angles and of a color not suitable for art. I flipped through some stacks of rectangular sheets and found the color paper showed signs of weathering and aging. These materials haven’t even been looked at in years. Who even owned them? I didn’t think I could take any of it anyway.

I walked to the next room, and called in, “Hello?”

Someone responded, “Hello, come in, how can I help you?” I walked in and saw art hanging above the desk where the man was getting up. It was cut from different sheets of paper and displayed in deep square frames to give a three-dimensional look.

“Yes, hello, I’m just looking around and was hoping to find someone who would like to tell me about their art.”

He introduced himself and took me to the art on the wall with the door. He said he spent time living in Japan but he returned because it was too expensive and everyone was too “clean”. His art resembled manga but bore some unfinished qualities like Degas’s ballerina sketches.

“How do you reconcile that the art is unfinished?” I asked.
“The art is finished as soon as your intention is met.”

I had a dream last night that some bad artist was selling poster prints of 1. someone else’s (much better) art, 2. their own crappy sketch-comics, and 3. horribly patched together photoshop-recolored emo photographs. The prints were on display in a Walgreens, and the artist insisted that everyone must leave comments in writing on fabric.

1. First piece was titled “Slavecrab Party”—It was headcrabs from half-life wearing party hats. The original artist painted it and the rip-off artist made prints and added the title and her signature.

2. Their crappy comics were pencil on white background, poorly drawn with no concept of anatomy, and was obviously drawn on notebook paper and then laid out in photoshop, where they tried (and failed) to completely remove the blue line. The “panels” (there were no lines) were in no perceptible order and there was a lot of irregularly sized white space. The subject matter was two of the class characters from TF2 falling in cartoon love with each other, complete with bugged-out eyes/hearts and falling rose petals.

3. The image was a kid with long hair in black standing in front of a tree, looking down so you couldn’t see the face. The tree, the kid, and the ground were from all different photographs and at different resolutions

The comment cloth was cut from t-shirts and baby clothes into the shape of panties.

I title this dream DEVIANTART.COM

Short dreams:

I visited the mother of some long-dead artist-friend and gave her some stuff. She complained about how artist-friend’s widow had already remarried.

A package intended for us went to a neighbors house. They had put the package with all the moving boxes of the neighbor. The neighbors weren’t home and we didn’t feel right just taking the boxes, in case someone else saw and told the neighbors we stole stuff.

Sonic the hedgehog vs. Shadow in a race down some minecraft stair maze. I kept losing playing at sonic until instead of running right away, I grabbed Shadow and threw him off the edge.

I wish I had more time to write this out. For now it’ll just be a braindump so I don’t forget it.

The dream started with James and I going to Florida. (I have had two previous dreams wherin we accidently end up in Florida and need to get back home ASAP for work.) We needed a place to stay while we were down there, so we thought it was a good idea to steal the old mobile home I grew up in. (I have had several other dreams involving owning this mobile home or others as secondary housing.)

Upon examining the interrior of the trailer, I found that my parents had not completely emptied it and many of my mother’s old business clothes were there. I held up a dress and said to James, “I should take all these home and wear them to work. I can totally start bringing the 80s back.” (I need new business-casual clothes, getting old stuff might be a good idea). Inside the bedroom, my parents old waterbed was still there, along with some fans.
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Not every time we sleep do we reach a deep enough state to dream. For weeks my rest has been frequently interrupted and it seemed I’d never dream. After roaming around the house for some time in a half-coherent stupor (a state in which I seem to be able to do little more than care for Jonas and eat), I managed to sleep well in my short rests. It’s as if my body has me sleepwalking consciously during the day so that I may dream when I do sleep.

I dreamt that I was at a convention center for the purposes of an audition. It was for the part of some background character, only a few lines, from a comic or something equally nerdy that was being made into a movie. At the time the dream started, or at least what I recall, I had already finished my audition and was waiting for James to pick me up.

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I had a dream last night that they made yet another X-Files movie. Having not seen the previous movies, nor ever really watching the show once it developed a continuous plot (I much prefered monster-of-the-day type stuff from that show), this dream was rather odd.

It started with Mulder and Scully as a married couple seated at dinner. Scully was serving various foods with a one-ounce ice cream scoop to Mulder by placing them on a music stand while he read the newspaper. Suddenly, there’s a rumble. They panic and the camera immediately goes to the window to show a T-Rex is walking by. There’s another rumble and another until the T-Rex has gone away. “What terrible visuals,” I dream-think as I notice the choppy, unrealistic movement of the T-Rex, “The writers must want this to be a dream sequence.” No one wakes up, though, and the weirdness continues.

This is the third time I’ve had a dream where Jorenko is Neo.

Neo was sent back in time to help something in the 1970s, but he was having trouble. Upon entry into the 1970s, he landed in some telephone wires. He struggled in them, but didn’t die from crossed wires. (I remember saying in the dream how stupid the director was for letting that pass final edit.)

He landed between two old cars as one drove off. The car that drove off contained Mel Gibson and Danny Glover. He was supposed to help them, and he just missed them. He chased after them across the parking lot, but didn’t catch up. He stood at the end of the lot, next to a brick building, and looked shamed.
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28K on Maria*hatey, 216K on Dreams.

Anyway, this is the second time I had a dream about another school, wherin it was both IADT and “The school I was supposed to go to.”

It started with us walking into the offices to discuss financial issues. The offices looked like that of a CEO’s penthouse office – we expected everyone to be rude, but they were very nice.

I don’t know the significance, but Rebecca Sanford was in the dream, and I was complaining that she got to go to this school, and that she wasn’t even an artist. (Rebecca Sanford was the girl I was constantly stuck next to in alphabetical order in school)
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I had a dream we were moving. Mom, Dad, and I only, though. Tony wasn’t there, but my parents were insisting on getting everything packed up right away. We had just locked up several things in a mausoleum, and my parents had taken special care to place traps with those things. Returning to packing, I threw my mother’s clothes with her stuff, and mine with mine. After everything as packed, I decided to make backups of everything on my HDD, so that I wouldn’t loose everything again. I copied everything to an external HDD and shoved it in my pocket.

Later …

I was returning home from a trip of some sort. As we pulled into “Greystone” where we were to switch to another bus, I called my mother. I was worried about getting on the other bus because it would be taking me further from home, making the drive to pick me up longer. Mother told me my father was already there, so I got in his truck and he drove off.

The direction we went wasn’t too the main road. The road we were on had a bridge ahead of us, and my father said he was worried about the darkness at the base of the bridge, because he couldn’t see if there were holes or anything. “I’m more worried about the whiteness at the top – I mean, does the bridge just end there?” I said.

Damned clipping. More of the bridge appeared as we went up it, but, sure enough, it ended. The truck makes a mighty leap into the air, and we watch down from the clouds for the place we’re supposed to land. We land, and start going downhill. After a while, we come to a visible edge.

We exit the truck, and, for whatever reason, Harry Potter is there, too. When the truck was shooting off the end, there was a far-view of it, and I could see the shape of the road-maze we were on. It looked a bit Sonicish: curly roads with red railing.

Harry Potter explains to us that this is a magical roadway, and we just need to walk over the edge, and we’ll be upside down, like David Bowie in Labyrinth.

Harry does it. It works. Dad does it. He falls. I cling to the edges and crawl over the edge. Harry Potter laughs at me as I’m about to fall.

Later …

It was RPGish, and one of the characters was an angel. Every time she said, “JESUS H. CHRIST!” when things weren’t going her way in a battle, Jesus came in, whipped the shit out of the enemy, and went away. This happened three times in the dream.

Later …

Tony Soprano and his crew were helping me get some money out of a guy. Prior to them showing up, I was at a bar, realized I needed something to finish a quest, ran over to this guy’s place. I wanted to purchase a woman, and he made me pay in advance. Later, he gave me a doll instead of a woman. I wanted my money back and he refused.

I had a dream I went to Dennis’ Place for Games, only it didn’t look like the ones out here. It was larger, less crowded, and brighter. Pump It Up was in the middle, but it was compact. The single stage was pushed under the cabinet, and I had to pull it out. Then I had to boot the thing. Then I had to level the stage. All this, and I didn’t even work there.

Not yet, anyway. Josh was reviewing my application. He asked me about someone I listed as a reference – “Jack Crawford.” He wanted to inform me as well that the address I listed for Jack was wrong, and his correct address was [insert screen name]. I told him to watch out, because his live-in girlfriend will answer and throw a fit.

I returned to the PIU machine. The damned thing was one player. No doubles allowed. I messed with the internal settings, and found that the machine was running on Windows 3.1. I started messing with it with a keyboard, though I don’t know how I got the keyboard.

I added a name entry screen, you picked by pressing the arrows to get to a letter, then hitting the center to confirm. Finally the game started.

The man in the artwork of “Unforgettable Memory” was positioned over the Pump logo. Hit center to play, start up a song on easy.

That’s when I noticed a lot more steps than I was used to – I look down, this isn’t PIU anymore, it’s Technomotion.

People start watching me frantically play, and then they clap and all that. Later, I return home.

Home is supposedly 802, though it looked like an inverse of the trailer I lived in mixed with Tim’s condo. My brother, mother, and father all lived there, but everything paralleled my current situation.

Father was not there; There are only three of us in 802 right now. Mother retained her personality, though she took the part of Maria. Tony used dial-up internet access while I had high-speed; that’s the same as Ashley’s setup.

The cat was there. I can’t remember what all Eddie did in the dream, but it somehow mattered.

Chicago was flooded. “Jefferson” street was slowly becoming a river. It was shallow, but swimable. A bridge had been built over it, but the supports to that were crumbling. I stood, waiting, watching. People shopped around in the city slowly becoming Venice. Others swam in the forming channels. One woman and several others stood upon the bridge and admired the view. The men noticed bits of concrete falling into the water, and darted off the bridge. The woman panicked, and fell with the bridge. She was alright, and was helped to the edge by swimmers. The water was freezing, as it was winter. A man exited the water with his swimming trunks hanging to low. He didn’t pull them up until someone commented that the mouse was out of the house.

At this time I was reminded that I was traveling somewhere for business. I checked my arms to make sure my tattoos would not be peeking out under my sleeves. I also examined my tattoos. On my right shoulder, I had the Powerpuff Girls. On my left, I had “Cartoon Cold Sunday Night.” (I have no idea what that meant.) I put my sleeves down, and the bus I was waiting for arrived.

I was traveling by Greyhound to wherever it was I was going. The bus was going to “East Ohio,” and making a stop in “Westfield,” which was where I was going. As we traveled, I stared out into the countryside. Many rivers and bridges were in the view, and many of the bridges were being worked on by construction crews. Thankfully, none of the bridges the bus traveled on were being worked on.

Arriving in Westfield, I find myself in a road-apple ridden amusement park. I look for someone who works there, as it is after hours, and I need to speak to the management regarding a job I was assigned. One of the workers is Isha. I greet her, have a good It’s-been-so-long-since-I’ve-seen-you cry, and she leads me to a store.

At the store are other people shopping, but most noticeably are Jorenko, ZRaven, and Squee. Only Jorenko takes active part in shopping with me for Nintendo products. There are several systems of SNES and NES variety piled in a corner next to a TV, along with many games. For some reason, there are BOX SNESs as well as Box NESs.

We decide to test out a couple systems, just to make sure they work. Sure enough they do, and, for some reason, the NES we grabbed was playing a Gamecube Zelda game. It was great looking, and Link looked like a 3d, cel-shaded version of the Animated Series Link. Whoever was playing was repeatedly attacking the already dead moblin from the cinematic we’d just seen.

I ask the people behind the counter for the pricing, and the man says, “We don’t carry that.” The girl grabs a catolog and slams it on the table in front of him. The man returns to his knitting, and the punk-raver girl flips through for the prices. $12 for a box NES, $14 for the top-loader, $31 for the box SNES, $33 for the top-loader.

And that’s where I woke up.

I don’t know about the plot of this dream, or even if there was one, but it was loosely based on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (or however it’s spelt)

There were dementors chasing me (I replaced Harry) around. Herm- *cough* Ms. Granger was played by Ashley, and was obsessed with checking the mail. Snape was played by James from the arcade. Jorenko was Ron.

Odd dreams. Snow in it, too.

Before that was a futurama dream. Snow in that, too. Bender was forced to dress as a “nice” santa for X-mas, and he didn’t want to, so he faked his own death, then he and I went out to the movies for the hell of it.

I’m fairly certain this one started in the middle of something, because that’s where my first memory of it comes in. Some guy (I’m pretty sure it was Jon Dark) and I had just finished fighting of a bunch of armed guards. More were coming, and we had no chance to escape.

I look at him, saying, “It was nice knowing you,” and give him a quick kiss. I’m certain we are going to die, because I’m about to pull my trump card – I have one final attack that would get rid of all of them . . . and us. Jon is scared and confused, but I am calm. We are all going to die – why am I not scared?

A blue wave of energy rotates it’s way into the room, going through the walls and making it’s way into the room we’re in. I look at it and smile, happy to see this end. Jon freaks, asking what’s going on, what’s going to happen, etc.

He hides behind me, and starts kissing my neck.

And then we die.

The next thing my eyes see is an underworld. Not really a fiery Hell, but more of a series of underground caves that just happen to have lava floors in some places. It is, of course, familiar to me, but one element is not – Jon. How did he get here? More importantly, how do I get rid of him?

I explain to him what this place is – It is the home of the angels and demons, and this is where we are placed until we are issued a new body. He asked me what I am, angel or demon, and I explain that I am one quarter demon and (this part made me laugh when I woke up) my mother was half-Shikima . As I explained, I walked do different places, doing my usual routine, and Jon followed me. I remember him muttering, “why couldn’t you be an angel?” I laugh to myself and think, “I never said what the other 3/4 were.”

Whoops, time to regen.

Stabbin thugs, and other things I can’t remember, because stupid bitches talk loud and harm my brain and memory.

Dream 1 was the steps to Muhon on crazy. Seriously. I dreamt the steps to Solitary. Might have something to do with the eight hours of Pump It Up yesterday.

Dream 2, I was in Ohio, in an apartment that resembled my Aunt Mary’s from a while ago. I was a bit angry at my mother for holding me there so long, and inside. After a while, she let me go outside, and I used a pair of shingles as skis, and chopsticks as ski poles. There was snow in the large parking lot, so I skied all around the place, and even down the mounds that the plow made.

But soon, it was time to go. I was happy to go, but still sad to have to stop skiing. I had to go because my train was leaving soon, and my mother just seemed to ignore the fact that we’d been there so long. I recall (in the dream) that mother had said, “Don’t worry about bringing your bags and ticket. We won’t be there long.”

It’s now about forty-five minutes until my train leaves, and we’ve still got to go home and get my stuff. (Mother has done stuff similar to this in real life.)

Time passes, and I’m at the train station. I rush to get my train. For whatever reason, Jorenko’s there waiting for me. We’re both going back to Chicago, I was just separated from him for a bit.

The trains resemble CTA trains from the outside, but on the inside, they’re two-floor things, with first class on the top floor.
Jorenko and I are seated in the rear car, with seats facing in, and behind us, the back window. For whatever reason, we’re permitted to decorate the area as we see fit. Apparently, it’s going to be a long ride.

About a half hour into the traveling, though, we hear a crash. Someone runs into our car and yells, “The lift has fallen through!” The train grinds to a halt, and we soon find out that the lift on a car near the front has fallen not only the small drop, but completely through the floor of the train. Everyone who had crammed into the small lift as a joke had died (crushed under the train) and they took others with them by tearing out the floor.

Before they evacuated the train, they needed it off the tracks. (I think these were high-speed, always-moving, never-delayed trains, so it was imperative that we be off the track, lest we take out the next train as well.) We rolled in reverse, then forward again, then in reverse on another track. After a while, each car was lifted, separately, by a large crane. This meant we would be the last ones lifted.

Nothing had happened to us, and we didn’t even see the thing that had caused our wreck. Jorenko and I started packing up our little decorations. One of the things I had was a little green Q-bert, and a Mr. Saturn figurine. I reached for them, and someone else reached for them at the same time.

“Those are mine,” I said.
“Nuh-uh, you probably don’t even know what they are!”
“Q-bert and Mr. Saturn.” I grabbed them.
“Let go of them!” the fat man-child said, and tried to get them from me. I pulled on them, and bit at him until he let go, then put the things in my bag. I had also kicked him a few times.

It was our turn to be lifted. Jorenko and I had buckled ourselves in again, and held onto our bags. The other people laughed at us, saying it was an unnecessary precaution, the cranes were perfectly safe.

The cranes worked by grabbing with two separate cranes each end of the car. The far end, where the people laughing at us were sitting, slipped out, and the slammed into the ground. They cried, were shocked and appalled that such things could happen to them. Had Jorenko and I not been buckled in, we’d have fallen face first from one end of the car to the other, straight into them.

We tried to keep from laughing. The fact that the other crane dropped us next helped us do so. We were off the track, so they just rolled our car the rest of the way, then let us out.

Well, fuck, we can’t go to Chicago yet.

Dream 3 somewhat stems from Dream 2, but all knowledge from Dream 2 is forgotten.

Mall time. Jorenko’s gone. I’m with someone I don’t know very well showing them around. I’m pointing out restaurants and stores, asking if she wants to go in anything, and she doesn’t. (I remember this mall from an old dream.) We get around the entire mall, and she hasn’t looked in anything. “Well,” I said, “I’m going to the arcade, you’re welcome to join me.”

She silently followed, and got in the VR machine. I choose my character to be one of Cassandra’s female body guards in Perfect Dark. Another player joins, and chooses a blonde buzzcut male, resembling the American ideal of a soldier, or Duke Nukem in olive drab.

We have jetpacks in the level, and I make full use of it. The other player and I have shootouts, per the norm of the game, but he takes to hiding under the platforms and shooting up.

Camping. Bad camping at that. The platforms are long and easy to get under from many angles. I sneak up behind him, under a platform, and take him out.

I quickly get out from under there and move up to a top corner of the place. It’s dark, he can’t see me. I can see the entire level, and I watch him check all the platforms for me. When he comes up from the final one, I blast him with a cannon ball.

The game goes on for a while longer, but it’s a blowout. I win yay.

Dream end.

I don’t remember much, but it started with started with my confusion as to why there were several technology related things hanging on a wall in our apartment (though it didn’t look like my current one). I asked Ashley if they were hers, and she said no. I looked at one item, an indigo-cased photo printer with images saved onto it’s drive. All the images were of me and Jorenko. I looked at another item. Everything within it related to Jorenko and myself.

I walked outside, and then to a mall. Jorenko was with me. There’s some kiosk set up to assist people in learning to use computers. I decide to look at it. The tutors weren’t very good at their job. They refused to explain things in a manner in which the people they were teaching could understand. They kept using only the technical terms, and confusing people more. I stepped over and tried to explain something to someone so they’d understand it, and the suit-n-tie technician that was instructing him got pissed off. He told me to stay out of this and let him do his job.

Hrmph. How rude. I tapped him on the shoulder, and asked him his name. It was Alan Boihd. (Dunno the name at all in real life.) “Well, Alan, I’m Amanda, and I think you’re doing a pretty crappy job at your voca-”
“Well, Amanda was it? I think you should leave now.”
Hrmph. He turned to face his coworker and strike up conversation with him. I leaned over and whispered to him, “You’ll pay for your crimes…”

Jorenko then pulled me away, and I continued to complain about how rude it was of the man to ignore me, and how rude it was for him to ignore that the person he’s teaching isn’t understanding anything.

We walked to another a store and browsed the art therein. Jorenko accidentally stepped on one of the artworks while trying to look at another, so I quickly ushered him out, upset that he was such a klutz.

Into yet another store we went, and we bought some sunglasses.

While walking to the next place, we saw the side of a store called “M. Boihd, A. Boihd.” The Boihd brothers owned their own store, and the M was an artist, while the A was a tech. I felt the strong urge to cause their place much damage, but I held back.

It was near closing time for the mall, but my sunglasses weren’t fitting right, so Jorenko and I ran as fast as we could. We caught the store as it was closing, and the owners didn’t notice us in it when they locked up. Great.

Jorenko looked around for a way out. I set about looking at the merchandise. I found a bedroom setting, and turned on a tv in there. The TV blipped out rather quickly, and a monster jumped out of the closet. The monster pinned me in a corner between the bed and the wall and raped me. I quickly recovered and turned on the TV again. Jorenko walked in and saw I was watching an anime he’d seen. “Did you see the predator in the closet scene?” he asked. I just nodded.

Jorenko had come in to tell me he’d found a way out, but I didn’t follow right away. I instead grabbed a new cell phone and a new pair of sunglasses. Jorenko asked me, “What use are those things to you? You can’t change the settings yourself.”

While I was still looking for the glasses I wanted, I said to him, “You know, I realized something: this is my world and I control it.”

We walked outside, and I made a point that I controlled it by causing damage to the Boihd store without even touching it. I put on my sunglasses and walked off, but Jorenko didn’t follow me.

The first dream started with me in my room. It’s surprisingly clean, but when I walk over to open my door, it split near the hinges. Well, shit.
I shout outside to the others in the apartment, which includes Ashley, her friend Mike, Kara, and another white guy. I ask, “Does anyone want to explain to me why my door is falling off its hinges?” There’s no reply from Kara in the kitchen, or Mike and the other white guy in the living room. There is, however, a response from Ashley, who’s in my bathroom, looking at me through the massive holes in the wall. Apparently, someone felt the room needed redecorating, and they removed all the drywall from the walls there.
Well, shit.
I shut my door as best I can, even though it stays slightly open as the crack gets bigger, and the lower hinge of this two hinge door falls off.
I sit in front of my computer and start playing a game. Mike and his friend come in and say, “Hey, cool, [game]!” They take the controllers from me and start playing. I walk over to a corner of the room and hug my Jorenko, because he just happened to be there now. While I’m hugging him, Ashley and Kara come in. Ashley starts watching the game, but Kara goes to my dresser.
Kara complained a bit about how she has no money, no food, etc. I offered to go get her something that could help her. While I’m away, Kara goes through my drawers. I come back and see her holding my silver certificates (Dollar bills from before 1955). I yell at her to give them back, and when she does, I yell at her for taking advantage of me while I was being nice to her. The entire time, she’s silent, but I continue yelling at her, calling her a worthless cunt, stupid whore, thieving bitch, etc. She runs into the kitchen and locks the door. The little kitchen here doesn’t have a locking door, but apparently it’d been turned into a bathroom, because I hear her start up a shower. I walk back into my room, and the guys have invited over more friends. Ashley decides to point out to me that what I’d done is mean.
“And what she did wasn’t?” I reply.
“Good point.”
We turn to watch the guys play the game. Jorenko is standing behind me. I’m getting more and more pissed off that there are people I don’t know using my stuff, and being in my room as if they live there. After a while, I throw them all out of our shitty apartment.

After watching Resident Evil, ending at around 2:30 AM, and then going straight to bed afterward, I knew I’d have weird dreams.

I was in a theater, or auditorium of some sort. Someone on stage had just finished speaking, and now people were injecting themselves with something. Considering the intro info I gave, you’d expect it to be RE related, but no, it was the sedatives from American Werewolf in Paris, but it turned everyone into werewolves and/or zombies. Those who did inject themselves and found it to be harmful warned others before their minds were lost. I bolted into a bathroom, and tried to lock the door.

A woman inside warned me that it wouldn’t lock at all, and then asked me to take her baby away from her. She was turning into one of the monsters, and she didn’t want to harm her baby. I took the child and told her to go outside. I’d barricaded the door and hid from her, along with some others who weren’t yet infected. Thank god the child was silent.

There were apparently two entrances to this bathroom, and they were piling in the other. The guy I was stuck in the bathroom with tore down our barricade, and we ran out. We ran to where everyone else was running to – the exit.

When we got out, the man directed a group of us to his large house. Unfortunately, many in the group were infected, and slowly started showing signs of it. A woman’s face bulged and grew hair; a man’s eyes glowed and he tried biting people. Each time someone new changed, we’d move to another room. All this time, I was carrying the child.

I’m fairly certain I was killed, because the dream ended with me holding the child, looking up at a man, and him attacking me.

My brain is screaming at me. No, it’s not pain … it’s more like my soul is screaming at me.

[I remember enough about the early part to give you full detail on the location of everything I set down in the stall when I was using the bathroom in this dream, but it doesn’t relate to anything after.]

We drove by an arcade, and it was FULL. Everyone who wasn’t playing on of the many DDR/PIU/Technomotion machines was waiting in line for it. “We should have gotten the weed,” James said, though I don’t recall anyone ever mentioning weed in the dream. We drive around a suburb town, and I remember mulling over thoughts silently, like I normally do, of asking someone and playing out the entire conversation in my mind, making up a story about how person one would send us to person two, and person two would get angry and run over to person one and beat him up.

We continue driving, and we’re in Chicago now. We’re driving down an unknown street, looking for Broadway. I don’t know why, but James mentions Pemberville Road, so we start looking for that. We pass Madison without even wondering why we did when we’re on an E/W street, which would be parallel to Madison.

There was steep hill in front of us, over which I could see the lake. “He’d better slow down,” I think, “The lake is really close to the edge.” We start going down the hill, and the car speeds up. I don’t know if it was from James stepping on the gas, or from the brakes going out, but it happened, and we went straight into the lake.

The car went further underwater, faster than I would expect it to. I could feel the pressure on my chest from the water crushing us. I remember thinking, “Finally, I can learn what its like to die. No more speculation, this is it.” I closed my eyes, and heard James scream, “I’m ready to die!” How could I hear him scream, we were underwater . . . I grabbed his hand, and said, “I love you James. I want to spend eternity with you.” How could I have grabbed his hand, the water has crushed us . . . I reach over and unfasten my seatbelt. I can’t see anything anymore, just a reddish blur in the inside of his car. I push open the door, or I think I do, and leave the car.

A DREAM!!!

I don’t remember much about the beginning, but my parents were involved. We ended up at a Verizon store, and my dad was purchasing accessories for his startac phone. For whatever reason, he bought a bronze suit and tie to match his bronze phone. They bought me a gold phone with a new plan on it so that I had voice mail.

I said my goodbyes and walked out. I then stepped under the awning of a closed store and waited. I knew I was waiting for someone, but I can’t remember whom. My phone rang to indicate there was a new message. I flipped it open to look at it. As I was doing this, two black women drive up in a white car. One, in the back, rolls down her window and asks if I need a ride somewhere. This woman is someone I go to school with, though I can’t identify her. I tell her no, I’m waiting for someone. I hear an L train go by. “Oh, we’re right next to Jefferson Park,” one says. They drive off. (I’m fairly certain I’m still downtown, because the buildings are tall, and Jefferson Park is out in the ‘burbs)

Someone else stops by now. “Mike” shows up. I use the quotes because the guy’s name is actually Dan, and he goes to school with me. I say hi, an we chit chat a bit. I walk over to the other corner when we’re done speaking.

I start to listen to the message on my phone. Instead of it being a recording, it calls back the person who called me – Jorenko. I’m a bit surprised to hear his voice after I hear a ringtone that sounds classical (though I can’t place it now).

Someone across the street shouts, “Hold it right there, Michael!” I look up at “Mike” and see him freeze in his tracks in front of me. The shouting’s coming from a police officer across the street to my left. I stare first at one, then the other. The cop fires his gun, and I see the bullet slowly reach it’s target – a window above us. Only for a moment does it go out of view behind a green awning above the store. The cop fires two more times, each in slow motion.

Just as his partner is commenting on his success, fireworks go off. Apparently, the person they were shooting at had large fireworks in his hideout. The things flew everywhere, exploding in the sky, exploding on the street, breaking windows, destroying cars.

I curled into a ball, the phone to my ear, silent.

The dream began with a woman outside hanging laundry. The woman looked to be in her early twenties. She had somewhat pointed ears, with straight black hair pushed behind them. She wore a white dress with a lavender bodice. Judging from the laundry that was being hung, she was recently made a mother. As she finished hanging her family’s laundry, she turned to the small ramshackle farming house she live in with her husband and infant son. The husband looked out the window at his wife while holding the sleeping child.

Then, they all died.

To elaborate, that is when the bombs fell. Explosions destroyed the home, the people inside, and the laundry outside. What was once seen as healthy farmland was now a leveled field.

Some time later, soldiers are searching the rubble for any survivors. Lifting a piece of rubble, a soldier finds that the woman is still alive, though injured. (Here’s the hentai part that makes my brain hurt. In every hentai I’ve seen/read, the woman ends up ENJOYING BEING RAPED.) The one who finds her tells another to hold her wrists while he undresses her and himself. The woman hasn’t got much energy left, but she still struggles. The soldier rams his dick into her, and the “camera” goes to a close up of her face. She screams with pain, but she starts to show signs of enjoying it.

As the soldiers are having their way with her, the camera then goes to another soldier in the distance. This one’s carrying a rifle, and quickly snipes the two that are molesting the woman. He runs down the hill he was on, and then to her side. He lifts her up easily and runs back to his base.

Once inside, he places her on his assigned cot in his own shabby quarters. She’s frightened that he’ll kill her, and she shouts at him in a language he doesn’t understand. He leaves her alone for the rest of the night.

In the morning, he presents to her a small basin with a sponge and towel. He places a new dress on a stool, and leaves the room. Taking the hint, she washes her self. (Hooray for “Shower” Scenes.)

While she’s washing, he’s in another room wanking, thinking of her.

She finishes washing and dressing before he finishes fondeling himself. She leaves the room, and searches for an exit. She stumbles upon the closet wherein there is a sniper.

(More reason I hate hentais) He’s embarassed, but she isn’t. She kneels in front of him and starts giving him a blow job. She swollows all of it.

Yeah, damn hentais ruin my brain.

I had a dream that I grew a mustache.

I don’t recall any of before this portion, other than that I was with my mother.

My mother left me with a cart at what I think was a Walgreen’s. The Walgreen’s was very large, and very busy. The hall I was in, which was near the doors and checkout, was crowded, and people were constantly moving.

I was watching the cart while my mother was off doing something. I leaned on it, bored, and watched people go buy.

Someone caught my eye. He was in an army uniform, and quite clearly had “Born to Kill” scrawled on his helmet. The peace symbol pins clashed with that, and I watched him walk. Then I noticed he was staring directly at me. He kept walking as he shouted at me, “Are you sane?” I blinked, and he was still there. I turned my head as he continued, “Are you like me?” I did a double take. He was still there, and he shouted one last time, “Don’t you want to be like me?” He began to laugh hysterically as he walked out of my sight. No one else noticed him.

I panicked. Thoughts raced through my head all at once – Why was Private Joker from Full Metal Jacket in Walgreen’s yelling at me? Why was he saying I wanted to be like him? How was I like him? I looked at the cart, and the cameras were missing. I never noticed there were cameras in there before, but now they’re gone. I assumed my mother took them to be developed, but I didn’t see her. They must be stolen.

I leaned on the cart and cried.

I’m going insane.

For the Research paper:

Three people. One male, two females. RPG! Rapidly forgetting …

I find myself walking with two others through a market. The man seems nothing more than a fighter, and the woman appears to be an archer using crossbows. Well, poo, she’s out of bolts. “Don’t worry,” I say, “I’ll get you some.” The bolts are large wooden ones, about a foot long and an inch diameter.

We leave the marketplace, as I instruct. While walking, I find two bags of bolts on the backs of bikes. Great, I snag them and give them to the girl, and return to the market to get more.

Well look at that, a bike SHOP. I make my way in, ready to get some more. Walking out with a new crossbow and some bolts, I hear a whistle blowing.

Poo, I’m caught.

I start running, and more people start chasing. Some old woman tries to stop me, and, judging by the feeling I got when I saw her, she was an important character in the story.

She attacked me, and I stabbed at her with a loose bolt, and thwocked her on the head with the crossbow.

“What does a thief need with that,” she said after she saw what I stole, “You probably haven’t even got the intelligence to use it.”

“We’ll see,” I said, and pulled the sleek black weapon from the green cloth bag it had been packaged in.

I folded down the long black barrel, and stuck a bolt in. Snapping it back into place, I pulled back the hammer. There was one more thing on the side that I had to press. The woman was expecting me to not know of it, and she dropped her jaw in shock when I reached for it.

Fire one! Into her shoulder.

She screamed, and whined, and went on some villain rant that no one actually reads in a game, and I didn’t pay attention to in the dream. I walked up to her and yanked the bolt out of her, put it back into the bow/gun, and fired again, then ran off.

Dream out.

Okay, more dreams.

I dreamed that I had an apartment in the alley behind my grandmother’s house, and I could see her yard from my window. (In reality, there is a warehouse there, not apartments.) I was sipping coffee next to the window when I heard sirens. A police cruiser and an ambulance came into the alley, and pulled into my grandmother’s drive. I panicked. I ran outside and grabbed the police officer (female, blonde) and demanded to know what was going on. She looked at me as if it weren’t my business, and then I told her that that is my grandmother. She told me everything that she knew, and asked me if I’d seen anything. I show her a sketch from my sketchbook of someone who went to visit my grandmother earlier that day. (I was the blue-haired Schroe in this. In the next part, I’m myself.)
Next thing I know, I’m at my Aunt E’s house. Apparently, we’re house sitting. My brother orders me to …. Rake the lake. There’s leaves and twigs in the lake, and I’m supposed to clean them up. “Hell no,” I say, “I just got in from Chicago.”
Then my grandmother comes in, bandaged. The police told her she should stay with family until everything’s cleared up.
Later that night, an Asian woman in black leather comes into the house, and she resembles the woman that I had in my sketchbook.
Oh, poo. This time she comes after me. Then I woke up. Yay.

I’m not sure which came first, the sorority, the diablo, or the shopping, but the shopping came before the sorority.

The diablo portion of the dream … I was in a bus, travelling down an open country road. Eventually, we got out of the bus, though I don’t recall how or when. Something caused us to begin running back, and that is when it switched to the Diablo2 view of the game. I was an assassin (2nd time appearing as an assassin in a D2 dream, other times I’ve been a sorceress (2)). Another unidentified class is running up ahead of me. As we run, the ground starts to fall behind us. At times, I’m running up an incline to get to the next section of land. I’m the first to fall into the darkness when I couldn’t make it to the next plot of land in time. At this point, I began contemplating what it would look like of the viewpoint could be changed in Diablo, how it would work, graphically, and how they could program it to work well. (Jorenko had mentioned when we were playing d2 last night that he wished that view could be changed). After a moment, I found myself watching TV, and the local (Toledo) news was on. They were doing a special report on the event that had just happened. I was proud to see that they used my character on their screen.

The next part of the dream would have to be the shopping, then. I was in a small store, like Walgreens, purchasing items. A group of us were there, actually, and we were throwing items into the cart. We went to the checkout, which was not a counter, but a window in the wall. The cashier rung up our purchases, and pushed aside items that had been damaged. (Apparently, we’d just run through a gauntlet to get to there). The others in the group grabbed their goods, and I stole a large pack of toilet paper that was pushed aside for being damaged.
We’re walking home now, wherever it may be. The others with me are a male and a female, both ages 18-23. The female has short red hair, pale skin, and is wearing tight black pants, and a black 3/4 length sleeved shirt. She’s also rather thin, and looks like a young, goth Joanna Dark. The male remains unidentifiable, other than that he is in a black coat, and he ends up splitting with us.
Joanna (for lack of a better name) and I are then walking down the city streets to get home. We’re roommates, apparently.

The sorority is where we end up heading. We live in a sorority house, and are apparently the mock of the campus. The richer sororities come by and pester us, particularly one girl, who is constantly picking on Amanda (refering to me. I was someone else in this dream, but I was still myself. Amanda was a brown haired me, and I was blue/black haired, like I am now.).
Amanda was constantly picked on by one particular girl. This girl was tall, busty, big haired, and rich. She was constantly in the latest fashions and the spikiest heels. This girl never bothered me, but she constantly harassed Amanda. One day (as in now, in the dream) she really pissed me off, and I went outside of the house. I told this woman to back off, and I pushed her.
She was appalled that I’d do such a thing. She kicked me with her heel/spike. It connected with my shoulder, and it hurt. She swung for a second kick, and I grabbed her shoe.
She lost her balance, and fell over onto the lawn. She started bitching about dry-cleaning costs, and I told her she had far more to worry about.
I took her other shoe, and stabbed her in each arm with a shoe-heel.
At this time, an authority figure (a black man with glasses and school garb, possibly a professor). He surveyed the scene for half a second and was frightened.
It skips slightly here. Now we’re all on the porch, the bitch and the prof are both sitting on the floor, and I’m on a bench. Amanda’s sitting next to me.
Amanda doesn’t like what I did, but she feels powerless to stop me. I happen to have a claymore, sheathed, sitting next to me. I know that it’s flimsy (because it’s Jorenko’s) but they don’t. I dramatically unsheath it, and point it at the woman.
“You’re paying for dinner, tomorrow. It will be just you, your boyfriend, my boyfriend, and myself.”
She nodded in agreement to my demand, and ran off.
The dream skips again. Now I’m lazily watching TV, flipping through the channels. The woman has arrived to take me out to dinner. She’s also brough an extra couple.
“Sorry, my boyfriend won’t be here until Friday. Come back then, at nine.”
She walked off, and the dream ended.

I’m going back to bed. I’ll analyze this for my research paper later.

I had a dream about elevators.

I fucking hate elevators, but I have to deal with them every day. It’s a stupid irrational fear that they’ll malfunction. I’ve never truly had an elevator malfuntion with me in it, but the one at Carter East came damned close every time I stepped into it. I started insisting that we take the stairs after a while …

Anyway, the dream. I was in an appartment complex, much nicer than the one I’m in now. I was cleaning my room, which was for whatever reason the exact same as my room in the trailer I lived in seven years ago.

Recently my dreams have included the sense of touch more vividly. I never “felt” things before in my dream, but now I am. Can be a good thing, like in this dream, with the kitties and the soft rats and such. Wasn’t good two days ago. Read the rest of this entry »