Growing Up

Posted: May 19, 2015 in The Dreams

Last night I dreamed about a girl I had only known growing up. We were both on the swing set we used to play on when we were little. But we were adults now and she looked solemn, nervous. She was watching a child from a distance, it must of been her own, it had her blonde hair and upturned nose. She watched me, so afraid as I stood and grabbed the small girl by her chubby arm. The woman–Lila? She yelled and begged me to stop as the girl cried, but I kept pulling her away from her mother. She told me she’d quit, that she’d get better–that she’s seeking help. She never looked so hideous in that moment, I noticed her yellow teeth and trembling arms chewed up with needle punctures. She’s changed so much since we were kids…

 

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Attempted Intruder

Posted: April 6, 2015 in The Dreams

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The bed sheets rise and fall with every breath she takes. She dreams peacefully, her wild orange hair sprawled out on the pillow all around her head.

Suddenly, a commotion outside and a crash against the window by her bed extinguish the peace. She stirs and murmurs something under her breath, but her eyes don’t open.

A few moments later, another crash against the window jolts her awake. She sits up in bed, awaiting another sound. Sure enough it comes, as if someone were physically trying to force the window in. A look of worry flashes over her brow, but she gets out of bed and slowly edges the corner of her curtain away. She scans the dark but scrunches up her face when she finds nothing out there. She draws back the curtain completely and out of the darkness comes flying a giant grey owl. It darts straight at the window, creating the same crashing noise as before. She gasps and upon noticing her, the owl flies up and back into the night’s sky.

Close Call

Posted: March 30, 2015 in The Dreams

So there’s this guy that I see at the coffee shop sometimes. He sits with a laptop, usually a couple seats away from my usual spot. Every so often we make eye contact and quickly look away. Well, last night I saw him in my dream…

It’s in a small apartment room. Pretty dark. Just the glow of a laptop. I see him staring at the screen. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in days. Maybe weeks. His eyes are hollowed. He appears noticeably thin, almost skeletal—like he needs something to eat really badly. Then, he begins gripping his hair and pulling small chunks of it out. He SCREAMS. But I can’t hear it. Everything is muted for some reason. After that, he makes a phone call. It doesn’t seem like anyone answers on the other end. He’s incredibly distressed. Pretty soon he gets up, walks into the bathroom, and opens a medicine cabinet. At this point, the volume rises, but the only thing I can hear is my own heart pounding. The guy pulls out a pill bottle. I’m able to focus in.

Aspirin. It’s just aspirin.

 

Okay, so I know a lot of my dreams are really intense and disturbing, so I thought I’d share a lighter, er—weirder one that I had last night. Well, I guess it’s still disturbing. Just in a different way.

I see my Uncle Don from back in Wisconsin getting out of bed, which is weird because I can’t remember the last time he actually crossed my mind. Anyway, he’s just in his underwear. ‘Whitey tighties.’ He goes into the kitchen and pulls out a big bowl and sets it on the counter. Then, he grabs a bag of Doritos out of the cupboard. Nacho Cheese flavor. He dumps the entire bag into the bowl. I’m thinking, okay a midnight snack. Nothing too crazy.

Then, he goes to the fridge and pulls out a carton of milk. Okay, he’s thirsty. But then he pours the milk into the big bowl of Doritos (gross!). He gets a spoon and just starts digging in, shoving giant helpings into his mouth. I have to mention – I get a little freaked out when people chew with their mouths open, but this was on a whole different level. All I can hear is these loud, nasty, slops in my head. My view zooms straight into his mouth—a cruddy mixture of orange and white. I start feeling nauseas. Do you blame me? I just want this to end.

He finally stops after most of the bowl is finished. But just when I assume he’s going back to bed, he puts the bowl down on the floor and starts stomping his bare feet in it! Just standing there in the middle of the kitchen like it’s nothing. Does it feel good to him? Like a foot massage or something? Does he think he’s making wine? Oh, Uncle Don.

 

Assassin To Be

Posted: January 15, 2015 in The Dreams

It’s dark. A man in boxers and tank top sits on the edge of his bed, his face in his hands.

He sits still, except for his shoulders rising and falling slightly with each breath.

After what seems like an eternity, he takes a final deep breath and stands up. He makes his way to a nearby drawer and pulls out a pair of jeans that he hastens to put on. Next, he finds a black hoodie and slips it on as well. He pulls the hood over his head and walks over to his desk, on the other side of the bed. Opening the bottom drawer, he shovels around a bit before pulling out an ominous black box. He drops it on the deck and flips open the lock. He pulls out a metallic object, which glistens in the light from the streetlamp outside.  It’s heavy and shaped like an “L,” with a small trigger in between. The man shoves the object into the waistline of his jeans and covers it with his hoodie.

He walks down a narrow hallway until he reaches a large wooden door. He puts on a pair of dirty old sneakers, grabs a set of keys hanging on the wall nearby, and walks out the door, the jarring sound of a lock clamping behind him.

Bail Out Vegas

Posted: January 5, 2015 in The Dreams

I thought I’d update everyone between bits of my apple pastry this morning. It’s delicious, by the way. Thanks for asking.

Someone’s taking an impromptu trip to Sin City. I saw you packing up the car. Duffel bag shoved in the passenger seat, and opened box of granola bars thrown in the floorboard. Fig, nut, and honey Greek yogurt flavor. A half-filled water bottle in the cup holder next to some loose change.

Your girlfriend stood with her arms crossed next to the car, lips thin in a disapproving glare. I’m not going to lie, she even intimidated me a little. She asked you how many times you were going to keep doing this. How many times were you going to bail out your brother? (I’m wondering if she means literally?).

“I’m all he has,” you said. She shook her head and walked back into the house. You sighed as you pulled up the directions to Las Vegas, Nevada on your phone.

I didn’t catch the whole story, but I think I got the essentials. You’re driving to pick up your brother from Vegas. Gee, I should probably go into detective work with my ability to connect the dots. While you’re there, enjoy a drink. Roll the dice and see if you can win the big bucks. Because I’m guessing that drive home will not be a fun one.

Sorry that I can’t tell you which color or number to bet on at the roulette table or which machine has the major payoff. But to be honest, if I did have that kind of power, I’d probably be using it myself instead of offering it up to you. I’m not that selfless.

…okay, now that my keys are all sticky. Pastry’s gone. Breakfast is over. I’m out.

Good luck with your brother, whoever you are. And I’ll see the rest of you in my dreams.

Maybe.

Love Connection

Posted: December 30, 2014 in The Dreams

Okay. New Dream. Vision. Whatever you want to call it. That’s what you guys are here for right?

A love connection has been made.

It was poor lighting and loud music. Obviously some sort of bar. I saw wild hair. A drink spilled across a blue shirt. Tan pants. A guy in his mid-twenties. I couldn’t get a good look at the person talking to him, but I’m guessing you know who you are. He seemed to have a good laugh, really full and committed. That’s important in a person. He put his number in your phone. There was a puppy as the background. A golden retriever, I think. Cute dog. What’s its name?

You should call the guy. He seemed sincere and he looked at you with stars in his eyes.

And that’s all from me right now. Go out, fall in love and make me jealous, guys.

Triggers

Posted: December 17, 2014 in The Theories

I’m trying to figure out if I have some sort of trigger to these dreams. It’s not like I just close my eyes and I’m immediately standing in a room with a real person, peeping on their dirty secrets like the neighborhood perv. I dream “normal.” I dream normal all the time. But sometimes partway through, they just…I don’t know. They change.

It’s like I’m just walking along in LaLa Land minding my own business, probably with bear feet or something (bear like the animal, not bare as in naked, because it’s a dream and you know how it is), and I step through a door, then – surprise! – I’m watching some MILF pucker up in a mirror so she can paint her lips hooker red while her kid’s pulling all the toilet paper off the roll behind her.

That’s if I’m lucky enough to even get a door. Walking through a door’s almost like stepping through some sort of barrier, a divider between my imagination and someone else’s life. That doesn’t happen very often. It’s usually more abrupt, like I just blink and I’m somewhere else, and I’m awake even though I’m still asleep. I feel awake, anyway. The nights where I have more than one vision, those suck. When I wake up I don’t feel like I’ve slept at all. I mean, my body isn’t tired, but I’m exhausted mentally, and I can’t just go back to sleep to recharge because sleeping wears me out more than being awake does.

A trigger, though, if I knew I had a trigger and figured out how to identify it, I think I could wake myself up. That’d be such an easy relief. See the trigger, wake up, clear my head for a minute, and go back to sleep. No visions. Just regular dreams with bear feet and no doors.

I need to find that damn trigger.

Hurt

Posted: December 8, 2014 in The Dreams

Okay, last night’s dream was on the disturbing side. I took extra notes when I woke up this time just to make sure I got the details right. This is what I remember:

There’s a grey comforter on the bed with these dark and light blue lines that cross over each other. I guess they’re like squares, but not in that plaid kind of way. Just blue squares on grey fabric. There’s a NIN poster on the wall by the closet. The closet’s a mess, but I’m not judging. There’s another poster over the bed. I’m pretty sure it’s from one of the Star Trek movies, the reboots, not the originals.

The mirror. It’s one of those tall dresser ones, but I can’t see what’s on the dresser, just the mirror. And pictures. There’s a bunch of pictures stuck up in the frame of some guy. He looks tall, or at least lanky. Long arms. He’s got dark hair and blue, maybe green eyes. One of the pictures is from his graduation. That one stands out.

Then there’s the reflection. Blond hair, cropped short and spiked up on top. Probably college age. Might even be living in a dorm room, now that I think about it, but not with a roommate. White tank, golden cross and chain around the neck, tattoo of a dragon on the right upper arm. Blue eyes, for sure. Very blue, but they might look bluer than they really are at the moment, because the kid’s been crying.

A journal. It’s small and black, similar to mine except it’s velvet with a shiny, silver cross on the cover. It’s not one of those stuffy, religious-type crosses. It’s decorative, kind of gothy, something a vampire in a teen romance movie might wear on his t-shirt.

The book flips open. Hands are turning the pages. I can’t catch what’s written on most of them. I’m getting these little pieces and the hands pause on certain entries – a date to a football game, a camping trip in the middle of winter, getting wasted at a friend’s party – normal kid dating stuff. Things get a little heavier at graduation. Seems like the relationship is getting serious, but then it must’ve taken a turn. A bad one. The page that the kid starts writing on is all about wanting to die. Looks like that guy (the one in the mirror, I bet) sort of just faded away, and it’s killing this kid. Literally. I think journal entry is… a suicide note.

I woke up at that point. Here’s hoping it would’ve ended well if I could’ve let the dream play out.

Minimart Melodrama

Posted: December 2, 2014 in The Dreams

Gas station. This couple, probably early 20’s, is at the register arguing. And they’re going at it, hardcore. Like, MTV Real World hardcore. Meanwhile, I see this young kid in the candy aisle smuggle a Snickers and a stick of Starbursts into his pockets. He looks around from the corners of his eyes, but the other people in the store are all staring at the spectacle of this girl and guy yelling at each other. The shouting escalates even more, to the point where it sounds like they’re about to lose their voices. Suddenly, the kid stealing the candy—bolts out the door, no one even notices (smooth move, I guess). Then, the girl starts shaking up a bottle of Cherry Coke. The guy looks at her, shaking his head. Without hesitation, she twists the cap and blasts the soda straight into his face. He’s covered. The combination of the sticky liquid and an intense blush of shame make his face look incredibly red. The store is silent, absolutely silent. No one knows whether to laugh or be scared. The dude slowly backs up out the door. She stays behind for a few seconds and says, “That’s what I’m talking about!” and struts out the store. The cashier timidly looks around and begins the slow-clap. A few other customers join in. And then… Snap! I wake up just as the claps crescendo.