Something More Sinister

My current employment, my desires to go to Spain, and all my friends got all fucking mixed up into a strange fucking dream last night. I had a lover in Spain. I was a student in this beautiful land of mountains and lakes and coastal cliffs. Whether I committed the ultimate crime or not I cannot recollect. I do, however, know that at a certain point I remember my name and face on TV; of course those goddamn gachupines couldn't pronounce my name to save their lives, but I got the point that the news anchor was trying to convey. I was wanted for murder.

Shortly after finding out that I was a fugitive I looked onto the floor of the passenger side of my car. There was a bloody bag stashed there, and I didn't know where it came from. "Did I commit the act?" I thought to myself. Then recollections came back to me. Memories of lying with my female companion near a lake, and the realization that she had a boyfriend. It was the boyfriend, I realized, that had been murdered. Now I had a motive and bloody articles in my possession. I had flashbacks to a body lying on the ground and me standing over it.

If I were caught they would have all the evidence they needed. More importantly, I came had to face the fact that I could have committed a murder and forgotten about it. Maybe I blacked out the gruesome details. I felt sympathy for our client back in the states, the one who is on trial for murder. She heard voices that told her to pick up a gun and pull the trigger. Can someone who is guilty really be a victim themselves?




I remember fleeing through an ancient coastal village, through alleyways perched high above sea cliffs. Eventually I was caught and brought to trial. The proceedings were in Spanish and I feared that I would not be able to properly speak for myself in Spanish. I got my boss to come out and represent me, except she didn't know the Spanish justice system.

The last thing I remember is the inevitable doom I faced. And then I looked up in the courtroom and saw the faces of all my friends, there to support me. They knew that I was innocent. I however, did not.

I woke up on a boat, and breathed in a breath of morning air as I joyfully realized that I wasn't a murderer.

East Oakland

Brett and I are driving down an industrial street in East Oakland, when we pass a used bookstore. Upon closer inspection, there was a book reading going on. When we approached the reader, it turned out to be no other than the eternal Roberto Verde (may he rest in peace). Roberto seemed intent on keeping his presence here a secret until he could spring the surprise (Why this was necessary when we had already seen him remains a mystery of the Verde Clan).

Flash forward: I am being held captive by General Guy-in-Trench-coat. He threatens me with my own six-shot revolver, while at the same time being extremely careless. To prove his control of the situation, he shows how he can point it at himself with no threat to his persona. BAM I smash my head forward into the hammer of the pistol, discharging it into the upper orbit of his right eye. Somehow this bullet leaves him more or less cognoscente, stunned and extremely angry. I rip free of my bindings and proceed to run through the industrial wasteland, uninhabited at this early hour of the morning.

As I am running, ducking amongst the piping and silos, someone calls me on my cell phone. Angie, (you may know her from Yo Soy Coyote), proceeds to tell me that Robbie is here and "that must be so exciting for you." I basically tell her, "Listen lady I'm kind of in the middle of something right now, being chased by a psychopath with my own pistol." Then I hang up on her. I think I smiled in the dream.

As I duck down one alleyway, the Trench-coat travels another in an attempt to cut me off. I go up a pipeline, and onto a rooftop where I wait out his frustration.

and SCENE

Post Script: The evening before this was preceded with Grand Theft Auto IV and Blood Meridian. I think that pretty much explains it.

Plato's Cave Metaphor? Or an Anger Infused Opium Den? (Part II)

This was one vivid, fucked up dream.

That's Plato's cave up there. I didn't draw it, Plato conceived it, and it's not entirely relevant.

None of you were directly present in this dream, although some of your voices swirled in occasionally. I'm not sure where the dream began or where it ended, but I can remember the middle content and a few particularly confusing themes.

I was up on a barren plateau. It was reminiscent of the flat expanse just above the Columbia River Gorge, where other strange things happened this past summer. Brenda, Andrew and Ben were not there though. I was there with three other individuals, ranging in height from midget size up to Quinn & a 1/2 size. I didn't care about them at all; I had no emotional attachments. We were trying to get somewhere, but I couldn't figure out where.

In our search for somewhere, which became more and more frantic as the dream continued, holes began to reveal themselves in small hillocks all around us. The holes had a diameter of about 3 feet, and led down into small rooms that were roughly the size of the igloo we had outside the green house two winters ago.

I had been cautioned by an anonymous, booming voice not to enter the holes unless I was ready to go insane and cause harm to others. Well, since I didn't give a shit about the other individuals present in the dream, and our search for somewhere or some some sort of understanding was yielding no results above ground, I began to crawl through the holes into the rooms.

In these rooms were doorways to other small rooms, and some of those rooms had various glass and crystal household items in them. Lamps, chandeliers, microwaves, television sets, computer monitors, windows, etc. None of the items were of any use, as the rooms had dirt floors and no electrical outlets. What was stranger is that most of the items have limited glass/crystal materials in real life, but in this dream they were composed entirely of the fragile matter. They were placed there for a reason, and the second I touched them I became confused and consequently angry.

I would pick up a mirror or a glass toaster in a room, crawl through one of the doors, be blinded by a white light, and then be back above ground where the other three individuals were running around. I threw the glass and crystal items at them. Shards of glass would explode all around their targets, and tiny, bright reflections of light would dance around.

The other figures in the barren landscape didn't seem to understand what I was doing, but the booming voice did. I had to keep doing this; I had engaged a cycle that wasn't going to be broken, despite others' objections to my hurtling of glass objects. This was not a "silent" dream either. There were many, many voices coming and going, with no apparent stimulus.

I'm not sure what to make of this dream. It scared me a little bit, and was by no means pleasant. I'm going to be heading to bed for the night in an hour or so and I hope I do not re-enter that particular dreamscape.

Pray for me, my friends. Pray.

- Junior Greeneburg

A light-hearted Post-Script: last night my friend told me there was a girl in her middle school who spelled her name "Le'a", and so all the teachers pronounced it as "Leah" or "Leya". The parents came in one day all pissed off and explained to the teachers that it was pronounced "Ledasha". Haha.

I'm David Bowie, and this is your freaky dream...

Some of the occurrences and characters in this dream are easy to trace back to my actual life. Others, I sincerely hope, were fleeting aberrations of the mind.

ANDY and I decided to go on a road trip. We packed up all the food, and then I had to go to a substitute teaching job before we could leave. I rode my bike to the school, which was actually a shopping area called "Mall 205" near my house. Suddenly I was on my way home again, but somehow got lost. I decided to take a bus, and a hideous CREEPY WOMAN, who I thought to be the driver, sat down next to me and started rubbing my back. The bus drove me farther and farther away from home. I started to panic. I told the actual BUS DRIVER my predicament, and he reassured me that he knew where to drop me off. In my elation at these words I kissed him: the middle aged, salt and pepper haired BUS DRIVER. Then we held hands and walked back to the bus. Rather disturbing in retrospect.

When I finally exited the bus I called ANDY. I was many hours late for our road trip so he had already made new plans with ROBBIE and some other people. There were still 6 available seats, he told me, but I needed to get back in time to go. For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to go into a dance club, where I ran into SARA STILL. This was a thrift store/dance club combo, so I started shopping, and found a pink leotard to purchase for only $2.95! What a find! We went outside where we encountered DAN SMITH with a gang of his Portland friends lounging on patio furniture. Everyone was playing charades when suddenly DAVID BOWIE walked into the club. Before I continue, you should know that in this dream, DAVID BOWIE is a WOMAN. As I was saying, MS. BOWIE, dressed in Labyrinth garb, walked into the club and heard me shout some idolatrous words at her. MS. BOWIE came back with a biting remark about annoying fans and stormed off. "You were always like a mother to me!" I cried after her. At this point, DAN SMITH decided it was time for us all to leave and said he would give me a ride home.

END.

Why not sleep until noon?

So last night I had this ridiculously long, drawn-out dream. I can't remember all of it but ...

"You'll have to park your jet in the hangar below."
"Don't you think I'll need it?"
"Unimportant. Has to go below. Hey, have you ever had Ignacio as your fishing guide? He is really great."
"Nope, not once."
As the giant gate ahead of us slowly lowered, I realize that this might be the last time I see this shopping-mall full of people. The slow elevator cut-out into the floor began to lower, when I realized, "We're about to be totally defenseless out there!"
I glanced around to find Major Thunderbolt Ross, there he was sitting in the dark corner of the room smoking a cigar. He gave me a wide grin, and a nod, and I knew that tonight would once again be full of carnage.

As I activated the ship I threw my backpack behind the seat and strapped into my night-vision goggles.
I hovered above our group running mindlessly across the forested grounds, taking out any unforeseen bad-guys and ambushes. It took me a while to fly around and destroy all the badguys with missiles and machine guns but I was finally successful.

Then, out of nowhere, I had been hit. My ship was going down. There was no sign of another aircraft, but out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure fall to the ground. I angled my descent towards it, and crashed into the side of an apothecary.

When I recovered from the explosion, I noticed a giant hole in the side of the building with its contents spilling out onto the street. In the light of the streetlamp I noticed a great hulking creature, much akin to Eddie Brock, dragging an unconscious body out of the building. He was then followed by three exact replicas pulling three of the same unconscious bodies out of the building. As the blazing realization came to me that those poor, battered, unconscious beings were my clones, the first and greatest of the monsters turned to me with an evil grin and laughed in his alien voice, "I bet you're wondering how I did this?"

Planes and Bomb

Dream took place.  In corvallis.

  It was dark, but there was a fire going.  It lit the night delicately.  Like a burnt out lamp with a splash of orange in all the dark corners and in the windows.  As we hung around, Robbie, Quinn, Brenda and I we noticed something. A plane in the sky as bright as day.  A plane in the sky. A commercial jetliner in the dark moment.
  Our eyes stuck on it we watched it fly high, and turn and dip and turn and nose up, and then quickly move in our direction.  We realized what was happening.  It was terrifying and amazing, a plane coming towards you, an awesome sight.
  It swept towards us, moving deliberately towards the ground.  As it hit, it swept along the ground to the left of us was we watched it crash pushing away the earth and pulling itself into a hole created by its mass.  Then it was gone, behind the master house of the property.
  I ran to tell my neighbors.  A plane crashed, next to us.  Why should they care.  Aumi wondered what was going on and said she would check it out.
  We walked behind the house towards the plane, ripped up and unrecognizable walking inside.  It was a mall, a shopping center with made for tv products and storefronts.

One Foot in Front of the Other

Recently I have not been remembering my dreams, which is unusual because I almost always do. However today the trend has changed.

Obviously, last night I dreamed about school. I was at a practical exam where we all had to go into a room and perform some nominal task and then we would be graded. My roommate and I were waiting to go in with all of our class mates, and he was freaked out because he had brought his pot-pipe to the test, so he just laid it on some paper-towels in the trash can and went in. After the test which I don't remember, we socialized in the foyer outside of the testing hall and I recovered the pipe for him. I remember random social interactions especially one with Jen Chen because she loves cats and always talks about them. The room then of course changed to a dining hall where we were all at dinner, but the end of dinner as they were going to show a video up on the screen. It was at this point the woman with whom I had been talking, Katie Segal, and I decided to get outta this place and go make out. The end.

Seee, I can write about dreams too!