Thursday, May 19, 2016

Dream 16. Courtney Love's Husband is an Alien-Korean Pianist.

As I was throwing something away in the kitchen trash, I saw a newspaper on top of the garbage with a story about how Courtney Love's husband had been thrown out of a church. I was confused as to how and why they could throw a dead man out of anything. I was starting to get upset about what they were possibly doing to Kurt Cobain's ashes, when I thought to see if maybe she had remarried and I just hadn't heard. And I found out she had, to a famous Korean pianist who played the world's tallest piano.

I never found out what he had done to be thrown out of the church mentioned in the paper. I found it odd and unsettling that seemingly everyone else had known about this guy but me. He was everywhere-- on the radio, in magazines, newspapers. My dad had his newest CD. I saw him on TV playing a concert, and his piano was freakishly tall; he sat 20 feet up in the air on his bench, playing this thing, with his little feet dangling down. The piano had no pedals, and his music came out sounding very staccato and strange. He didn't seem human, and his music was alien. I didn't trust him, and was convinced he had put the world into some hypnotic trance for dark purposes.

Monday, February 22, 2016

Dream 15. Steve Buscemi and X Files.

I was at work, at the end of first shift. Christine and a new girl in training came in for second shift and I was not done with anything. There was all this other bullshit getting in my way of my counting the drawer. I was supposed to get out of there at three, but by the time I was done with everything, I ended up clocking out at 6.

I went home to a little apartment where I apparently lived by myself. I was single and not a mom in this dream. I laid down for awhile, heard the phone ring a few times and let the answering machine take all my calls. The outgoing message on the answering machine was my mom making all these random weird sounds and joking around for like 2 or 3 minutes. No one ended up leaving a message.

I got a knock on my door. I answered it to find Steve Buscemi on my doorstep, holding his palm out to me to show me parts of a watch band. He said that the last time I was over at his place, my watch broke and he just now found the rest of the parts. He walked past me into my apartment before I had time to tell him to come in. Behind him was a bitchy teenage girl, who was his niece.

The two of them sat down on stools at the counter in my kitchen. Steve Buscemi said, "I'd love some potato salad," but I told him I really didn't have much food in the fridge, and that we'd have to order out. "Pizza or Chinese," I asked, and the girl made a disgusted face and told me no Chinese. I told them that leaves pizza. "I can get Sergio's and have to go pick it up, or Papa Johns and I can get points. "I don't think Papa Johns can understand what I want," said Steve Buscemi, so I told him he'd better write it down.

We ended up leaving to go out to eat anyway. I said FIRST ONE TO THE CAR WINS and ran outside, as did the girl. Steve Buscemi took his sweet time getting his sport coat on and checking to make sure all the lights in the house were off before walking out. He did not win. I noticed there was a hair dryer laying on my front porch.

Suddenly (I guess this was a separate dream), Mulder and Scully were at a house with me, they were chasing someone or something upstairs to the attic. They followed through the attic door, into complete darkness, and shut the door. I was inside the attic and not. Like I wasn't really there but I could see what was happening inside. Mulder and Scully were shooting all these guys, hacking them up with machetes, knifing them, all sorts of shit. An entire three quarters of Mulder's head got cut off, but immediately grew back.

They turned around and opened the door, out into the light, and swore they had no idea how any of that had happened. Whatever did the killing in the attic looked like them, but it wasn't really them. Scully said, "It was so dark, there's no way I could aim my gun in there! And Mulder, you only have a vial of the last virus of its kind!" "Second to last," he said indignantly. It was a real X File.

Friday, February 12, 2016

Dream 14. School Bus.

I was on my way to test drive a car that my brother had called and told me about. At the dealership, they had it set up where everyone test drove the cars to the same place on the other end of town, then had to leave the cars there and board an old school bus that would then drive them back to the dealership.

I have no recollection of driving the car. Next thing I remember, I was on the bus, which was packed with tons of people. We stopped at a stop light in front of the dealership, and a man was outside motioning for the bus driving to come off the bus. As soon as the driver opened the bus doors, the man shot him. Then the gunman starting pacing back and forth, screaming to himself and waving the gun around.

I said to some of the other people on the bus that I was going to escape out the back door and that they should follow me, which seemed like an awful plan, as the gunman would almost definitely see us. None of them followed me in my escape, they all thought it was too dangerous. When I slipped out the back door, I saw the gunman was near the front of the bus fussing with the driver, who was not yet dead and had tried to climb back into the bus.

As the gunman shot the driver again, I quickly sneaked past and back toward the dealership. I glanced back and saw the gunman was on the bus, shooting each person in the head. But each time he put the gun to one of the passenger's heads, the person would laugh right before they were killed.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Dream 13. Bathroom Inspector

I was the star of a reality TV show. My job was to go to businesses that had someone recently die in the building, and inspect the back bathroom while a camera crew followed me around. Every place I went to was laid out roughly the same, with the back bathroom in the exact same location in the building.

I got a call to go out to a building in a sketchy part of town. I went to the place with my camera crew in tow. A big mafia type guy answered the door, and I asked if they had a recent death in the building. The guy smiled and told me yeah, so I was pretty sure he had killed the person himself. He let me in and let me look for the bathroom on my own. I went to the place where the back bathroom should have been, but there was only a wall. No door.

Mafia guy asked me if I was looking for the bathroom, to which I replied yeah, and he said, "Oh, well that's in the basement," and pointed to a hole in the corner of the room. A metal ladder went down at least 20 feet before it was hidden in dark. My camera crew waited, the guy holding the camera motioned me to go ahead. Mafia guy stood there grinning and staring at me. I started like I was going to climb down and stopped. "NO, I'M TOO SCAAARED," I yelled, and got so embarrassed that this was on live TV that I ran away and went into hiding.

I was suddenly in some foreign country, on a boat tied to a dock, wearing a ridiculous disguise.

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Dream 12. Friends.

It started with high school, or college. I'm not sure which it was, it was only the friends in between classes and after school that I saw. He was like my sidekick (much like one of my actual friends in high school), we would sit by windows and judge people walking by and talk about dreams and ideas. Comfortable and familiar. We would walk to Subway a lot. This was apparently our hangout spot away from school, but it looked more like a Denny's. And more judging would ensue.

I had promised my aunt that I would pick up my Nanny (who in real life, died a few years ago) from the airport the morning after next. I asked my friend to go with me and he agrees. The airport is hours away, so it will be a fun road trip. We would be like Thelma and Louise.

I realize the next morning that I have a class the morning I'm supposed to go to the airport. I speak to the teacher about this (my teacher was the Prof. Walsh character from Buffy) and was told that if I skipped class and missed the exam the next morning, I fail her class. I asked to be excused to make a quick emergency phone call and she let me. I called my mom, distraught over my dilemma. I wanted to take this trip to the airport with my friend, I didn't want to let my Nanny and my aunt down, I didn't want to fail my class. She said that Nanny could wait at the airport for a few hours until I could get there. Don't worry. My mother can calm me down even in my dreams.

I return to class and watch in a growing horror as students do bizarre presentations with music, brightly colored paper, and interpretive dance. I realize that not only did I NOT I have a presentation ready, I had no idea what this class was supposed to be about.

My friend and I went to a movie theater after school, and it was crowded beyond belief. Swarms of people were crushing us trying to get in. I don't recall even seeing the movie, just the mass of bodies squeezing to get out afterwards. There was a holographic woman thanking us and waving at the exit, reminding us to keep the theater clean and to thank a veteran,  then we all spilled out into the mall.

We left and sat out by a tree, and he asked me to go to Subway with him after we go to the airport. For some reason, this was different than just walking to Subway as friends, this was a date. There was a subtle distinction in how he said it and looked at me. Yeah, it made more sense in the dream. Of course.  As does everything. I walked home by myself, in a daze, through a war torn Bridgewater.

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Dream 11. No Fun With Jim Morrison

I was someone else, a woman in my twenties. I was in a relationship with Jim Morrison. It was present day, but he wasn't old. But older than 27. Maybe 40ish. And he was a raging asshole. Beautiful, rich, incredibly cool, but a real shady jerk.

He was into some sort of illegal financial scheme with two men, stuffy lawyer types, nervous guys, with briefcases and boring names. I didn't know the details, but they were having a meeting in his house, which was this big mansion. I walked in after the meeting, after Jim had went out and the two men should have been gone as well. One of the men was still in the room, looking through Jim's things, taking papers and stuffing them into bags. When he saw that I had caught him, he asked me for help. He told me that Jim was doing things that were dangerous and illegal and that he needed to be turned in. I just needed to keep quiet and let this man take all the evidence to the police. So I did. I let him take everything he needed, and promised not to tell Jim. I went to another room to hide until everything blew over, because I knew Jim would be terrible when he returned.

Jim came home after the man left. The room the meeting had been held in was in disarray, with all the file cabinets and drawers hanging open and papers everywhere. Jim walked in and became enraged. He had been drinking heavily. I sneaked out the front door and ran to my car, then realized I had left my car keys somewhere in the house. When I went back in, Jim heard me. He called for me to come upstairs, so I did.

He was drunk and angry with me. I was more interested in covering my own ass than helping the lawyer man. I told him that the lawyer guy was up there going over papers. I told him that I had no idea what sort of work the man did, so I didn't know what he was doing was wrong. No, I didn't help the man. I just thought it was business as usual. No, that man never told me anything, just took some papers with him for some unknown reason.

He believed it or he didn't, I couldn't tell, but he backhanded me and I fell into some boxes in the corner. I was terrified.

That is all.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Dream 10. The Seventeenth Floor

I was with friends at a large fancy hotel. The only reason I could afford to stay was because it was work related. I had to work while I was there and then stay in whatever room they gave me. In exchange, my friends (I say friends, but these were two faceless girls in my dream, with no counterpart in my real life) could stay in any room they wanted.

I was done working for the night (bringing towels, blankets and such to guest rooms and carrying luggage) and was trudging off toward my room to sleep. It was well after midnight and the only people around were two elderly British women at the front desk and a smallish dirty maintenance man who reminded me of Gollum from Lord of the Rings (and since I never knew his name, that's what I will call him).

Gollum had been lurking around in the lobby. He stopped me and told me there was something on one of the floors he needed my help with. From the looks of the guy, I assumed he was pretty weak and felt sorry for him. He wasn't elderly, maybe fifty or sixty at most. Just short,  frail looking and quiet. He was a little hunched and walked with a limp. I had pity on the man. I trusted him.

I followed him up to the higher floors, avoiding the elevators. He told me he wasn't supposed to tie up the lifts. I was so tired and asked if he minded if I meet him up there, that I was going to go take the elevator up. He grabbed me then and said NO, keep moving! I began to get a little scared of him.

The stairs took us outside some of the time. Steep stairs along the side of the building, like in the movie Spirited Away. I was growing very uneasy and was so tired and sore from working all night. We finally arrived at the top floors, which were all storage space.

I knew then that something was seriously wrong. Gollum was walking normally now and didn't seem near as frail as he had been letting on. I turned to run and he grabbed my ankle. He dragged me up to the seventeenth floor and to a metal door. It was the entrance to the attic. It was dark and full of boxes. The place was huge, it looked like a warehouse, but completely full of stuff, right up to the ceiling. There was a mattress on the floor in a cleared out space, and he dragged me over to it an up onto it. The mattress was old and wet, completely filthy. Gollum was muttering to himself or to me the entire time, I couldn't understand what he was saying.

I realized I still had my phone with me. While he was busy trying to remove my shoes and pants, I discreetly turned on my phone and saw that it was open to Facebook.

I wrote a status update, "I am on the seventeenth floor of the Plaza Hotel and I am being rapt."

Autocorrect had ruined my call for help. I tried to fix it.


DAMMIT AUTOCORRECT, now everyone will think this is a joke!

"*RAPED, HELP ME! " I waited. Nothing.

I looked down after a bit of waiting to see that Gollum had given up on my pants and was snuggling my side, asleep. Repulsed, I got up and ran, out the attic door and down to the sixteenth floor. My friends were lying on couches that were there on the landing, talking about my status update on Facebook. They didn't seem concerned.

I took the elevator down to the lobby, prepared to turn Gollum in to the hotel management and the police. On the way down, I checked Facebook again. A few people had liked my recent status updates. No one mentioned help. No one seemed concerned.

** I woke up at this point to get my kids ready for school. I wrote this down as soon as I got them on their buses, then fell back asleep... into the same dream. It took a twist for the Nightmare on Elm Street after that. Suddenly the hotel had all these boiler rooms and conveyor belts, and all these teenagers were looking for this guy, whom I called Gollum. They would get on a conveyor belt which would take them to some sort of inner workings of the building, it was the only way to get there. These kids were slowly disappearing. I'm not sure if I was even there anymore. It was as if I were a ghost, observing but not interacting.