Dream

I was at a military base. As far as I can tell, I was there with some sort of group, perhaps for a job. As it so happened, it was the base that Daisy Mae was stationed at and I bumped into him. However, it was while I was supposed to be listening to some instructions and his unit happened to be nearby.

Suddenly, Daisy starts looking quite ill. He coughs and dashes into the nearest building. Acting on my concern, I follow him in. I see him run down the hall, past a set of double doors. Though the window and the open swings of the door, I see Daisy begin to literally puke his guts out. He was violently expelling his digestive track in bits and pieces.

Note: I can assume this dream was derived from worries for Daisy Mae. He deployed to Afghanistan the other day. I know that’s what he’s been training for these 3 and 1/2 years, but I’m still concerned. I know he’ll take care of himself through. He has a wife now, who is expecting a child.

 

Dream

The Weeping Angels from Doctor Who? Nooo thank you! I do not like the mixture of the Weeping Angels with a camping trip with the crew from Starship Nutting (the forestry boys).

Nonsensical dreams which become sensible when analyzed! Jeesh!

If I ever find stone angels in a place stone angels are not supposed to be, I’m going to run away… Oh, shoot! That doesn’t work! I’ll run away backwards?

Don’t blink!

This has been a quality text post. Just kidding. This has been obnoxious.

 

Dream

I woke up this morning. Sat in bed for a second. Had the passing thought, “I had a dream last night, didn’t I?” as I climbed out of bed. Upon realizing that I did and thinking about the subject, I stopped and went, “Huh.”

There was a sport/game of some sort where people threw an object in attempt to get it in a circle painted on the floor of the gym. I guess it was like Boccie Ball, but it was different. Somehow, it was a team sport/game. Of the two teams, there was only one person I consciously recognized aside from myself; Reese’s Puffs.

My dream-self was no better at sports than my waking-self. When it was my turn to throw, I did some frisbee-like action and missed terribly. Reese’s Puffs rattled off a couple demeaning comments said so that every one could hear what he was saying. It hurt and I knew the cause of it was rooted in something else. So I shouted out: “Fuck you, Reese’s Puffs! FUCK YOU!I” [it sounds much more effective with the person's real name. Now it just sounds silly.]

And I stormed out of the gym angry and pained, tears stinging my eyes. Shortly after, Reese’s Puffs and someone else came out into the hallway. RP was pushing everything off to me as if I was completely deranged.

I kind of rue the day I read Freud’s Dreamwork. I wish I could look at a dream and just think “Well, that was something strange.”

 

Dream

Last night, in my dream, I was in the Doctor Who universe. This was strange because I have not watched an episode for quite some time. The details of the dream are pretty hazy.

There were two small, bobsled shaped spaceships set to be launched. Nefarious acts led to the ships being tampered with. The Doctor was no where to be found. However, I was there and apparently very clever.

The launch deck was enclosed and quickly filling with noxious fumes. Red lights flashed. Everything was tainted an orange color. A devil-looking man was standing at the bay doors, preventing anyone from being saved. This is where the dream gets hazy. Somehow, with my directions, he was overcome and everyone got out of the launch bay alive.

However, the people who attempted to kill all those supposed to have gone off on the bobsled spaceships were very angry. Then the Tenth Doctor shows up and puts an end to the whole thing and everyone goes home happy.

 

Dream

This post is going to take a steep, drastic off-road toward another direction from my last post. Mostly because it’s a dream I had and everyone should know that my unconscious is a strange place to tread.

There was a virus that mutated people’s genes. But not in the cool way as in X-Men, where people got special powers. No. It turned them into monkeys. Ones that looked like Planet of the Apes monkeys.

It was an epidemic. Everywhere, people were turning into apes. But there was an antidote! Something to prevent this mutation. However, it was risky. I’m not sure, but I think it was similar to a flu shot, which is a live vaccine and you’re at risk to get the flu from the shot.

I came across a family and one of their members was in the process of changing, but they had one of the antidotes. The mother was hemming and hawing about letting me have the antidote, but she wanted to protect her child. The father said, “It’s too late for him!” and I got the bottle containing the antidote.

I never took it. I quaffed a little sip, but I was stopped. Several people, including one of my father’s co-workers tracked me down to prevent me from taking it. They took me and put me in a vehicle. As I sat in the back seat, I wondered, was that small amount I ingested enough to cause the mutation?

 

It was all just a…

Curse the day I read Freud’s Dreamwork.

Curse the day I was reminded of it while watching Lie to Me.

Curse the night in which I had a dream immediately following the previous day listed.

Curse my subsequent analysis using Freud’s theories.

Given the above list, it should be obvious that I had a dream last night. Or, according to popular theory, I had several dreams last night, but I only remembered one of them.

As is common with dreams, I only remember vague details. Snippets here and there. Fading slowly, like the blue day as night approaches. A chicken that stays just out of reach when you go to catch it.

Chickens? Really? What are we doing? Are we gaining experience in The Legend of Zelda?

Any-whoodles. In the dream, there was much tension between me and house-mate, Whiskey Kid. I was frustrated and angry with him. I lit into him. Enraged, detailing every trespass against me.

Freud might divine: Clearly a case for a dream caused by recent events. No, no. Not anger toward Whiskey Kid. You have no real cause for anger toward him. You find him amusing. This cigar is not merely a cigar. No, for once I’m not saying your dream is a phallic symbol. What I mean is, it’s displacement. Whiskey Kid is a stand in for another person. Dreams are a wish-fulfillment, but the censor won’t let your dream be direct and straight-forward. Thus explains Whiskey Kid.

Of course, Freud’s theories were largely disproved.

 

In Which, A Dream

I had a dream last night. It took place at Fryeburg Fair. There was some sort of air fight going on with helicopters and I was put in charge of flying one of the helicopters. Which really didn’t make any sense because these were Navy helicopters and I’m not a member of any of the armed forces. My helicopter piloting abilities were evident because my helicopter crashed and I got captured by whomever we were fighting.

I was captured by a clown… Clowns scare me anyway, but this clown was sort of like Sweeney Todd, in that it killed people and put them into meat pies. And that’s what they were planning on doing to me. Thankfully, I was able to escape.

Being at Fryeburg Fair, my grandparents were there and I ran to their camper. The camper area for the livestock exhibitors was set up like an actual campground. There was a kitten there with wings that kept running into the road, so I tried to keep it out of the road.

And that’s pretty much it.

 

In Which, A Dream

Rather unfortunately, I had a dream with Alex in it. One would assume that would be a good thing, where I want him back and all. But I know that it’s highly unlikely that I will get him back, so I need to give up. It hurts me so much, for some reason, to admit to myself that I need to move on, but I know I have to.

And that’s why it’s unfortunate for me to have a dream that he’s in. I’m trying to rid myself of thoughts of him; a task that I’ve found to be increasingly difficult.

What makes this all even more unfortunate is the fact that we’re reading Sigmund Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams in my Act of Interpretation class. So I’m analyzing the dream out of second nature now. Of course, the only thing I can remember from my dream is that Alex was in it, so that’s all I can analyze.

Freud says that dreams are a representation of a fulfilled wish. Obviously, I’ve been wishing to see Alex again and, there you go! In my dream, that wish was fulfilled.

 

In Which, It Was All A Dream

I’ve been rather unnerved for most of the day. I attribute this to my dream from last night. Aside from violently cussing out a group of road cyclists**, I was framed for a murder.

I don’t remember many of the details except that it wasn’t until the very end that the dream-me realized that I was being framed. Meanwhile, from a third-person perspective the real-me knew what was going on the whole time. I wanted to shout at the dream-me.

The victim in the murder was a popular girl that never exhisted in my real high school, but did in the dream high school. A friend from high school was the leader of the whole murder plot. A friend who, in real life, I am no longer on good terms with. She even had the popular girl’s mother in on the plot! The mother distracted me while my friend performed the murder. That way, when I went to tell the police my alibi (that I was talking to the victim’s mother) the mother would deny me talking with her.

I was handcuffed as the police searched a muddy field for the body. It was during that time that I light suddenly went on above dream-me’s head. I was being framed. And I knew exactly who was framing me! Shortly after that, the remains of the body were found. And seconds later, I woke up.

I have no idea what the motivation for the murder or the framing was. That may be the worst of it. It’s just all so odd

 

 

** There are few things that annoy me more on the road than cyclists. The “Share the Road” mantra is a bunch of crap. Cyclists impede traffic, which can cause accidents. In regular vehicles, impeding traffic can earn you a ticket and perhaps a fine.

 

In Which, My Cracker-Ass Dream

Aside from the clearly offensive title of this post, it is true. I had one weird, cracker-ass dream. Certainly, I didn’t have to refer to it as such, but it truly fits.

I was in a dream version of the Vietnam War. I knew it was only a dream version because it was like a cross between the Vietnams of Platoon and Forrest Gump. It was like Platoon because John C. McGinley was there; he was the leader of the platoon I was in. It was like Forrest Gump because I was shot in the ass and it had a less of a impending doom kinda feel to it. After being shot in the ass, I was promptly brought to a medical building, where I was helped (i.e. having my butt bandaged) by Zach Braff as J.D. from Scrubs.

The oddness didn’t even stop there. The budding romance between my platoon leader (i.e. John C. McGinley) and I was a little odd. I may have a little girl crush on Dr. Cox in Scrubs but in Platoon McGinley was kind of a sleeze. Of course, in my dream, we wasn’t a sleeze, but still.

All this oddity was trumped by the troop of Vietnamese Boy Scouts that we thought were attacking our platoon. We even shot a few of their parents that followed along behind them. They weren’t trying to harm us though! All they wanted to do was sell us stuff! Like fleece jackets, and snuggies, and handkercheifs. After apologetically buying merchandise from the Boy Scouts, we continued on.

I don’t remember at which point in the dream this happened, but the platoon heard about a space shuttle explosion back in the States. On the space shuttle, of course, was the crew of Apollo 13. Kevin Bacon and Tom Hanks died in the explosion, but Bill Paxton returned to Earth just fine. And I know Gary Sinise was mentioned in there some where, I just don’t remember where.

And that’s all I have to say about that.