Ew. This dream really creeps me out. I dreamt "Sasquatch the Art Professor" was still alive. That's bad enough, but I dreamt I was still an art student. But it gets worse. As Art Professors do, he arranged for a visiting artist to come to the University. OK, no big deal. But he had me go see this visiting artist, who was very much like this visiting ART CRITIC (a real poofda he was, a right fat old Queen) from Chicago that IRL came to the University back in the early 90s, brought there by "The Chicagoan Art Professor." IRL, The poofda critic absolutely EXCORIATED all the female students' art, but absolutely LOVED the male students art, especially if he sensed they had queenlike tendencies as well. He was a sexist old flamer, and some of the more feminist prone of the students actually filed formal complaints against him and The Chicagoan who brought him to visit. But that was then. Let's get back to the dream.

In the dream, I was in a room, possibly a bedroom. I was to meet the visiting artist there, who as I said above, was a fat old poofda. I think Sasquatch was there too. Poofda then gave me a rolled up $50 bill, rolled up into a tight, sharp cone. I then realized why I was there...I was there as his whore! WTF!? First of all, I'm not a guy! Second of all, WTF? I was so angry I threw the $50 back at him. It fell behind the bed on the floor somewhere. He didn't even bother to pick it up, in a gesture that meant "I have so much money, I don't care if I lose it." He wouldn't take no for an answer either. Finally, I ended up yelling at him, and possibly Sasquatch too, but I don't know if he was still there or what. I got so angry and stern that Poofda finally realized it was a lost cause, and left. I later found the $50 on the floor and decided to keep it for my troubles. The weird part is when I was getting mad, I could see myself as if I was a third person. I was wearing the color turquoise and my arms seemed skinny.

Labels: Dreams

I was walking around in my neighborhood, but the street layout was more like around my parents' neighborhood, further to the west and north, like around Remington and Edwards (?). I noticed one old house with weird windows in front. It was tall and green colored and appeared to have some windows boarded up over the front windows on the main level (which was quite a bit higher than a regular first floor). There were several stories on top of that, however, and the windows were not boarded up. The boarded windows were small. I realized that this house had an attic over the main floor, however the second and consecutive higher floors were above that attic. How odd, to have a weird little attic inbetween your main and second story! I walked around to an alley or side street where I could see this house from the back. I counted the stories...five total (I don't know if that was counting the weird attic or not). It was not an apartment building, but a regular old fashioned house with many stories. Although it looked like a frame house from the front, the back was built with stone or concrete. I wished I could see what it looked like inside.

Labels: Dreams

I was with Stan. I don't know where we were, but we were just sort of lounging around. Bill came up to us and asked us, "So who does this look like?" and then he demonstrated by putting his hands down (inside) his pants by his butt and then rocking back and forth. IRL, that is the behavior of a couple men that someone who I know works with, but since Bill wouldn't know these people, I assume it is someone that Bill, Stan and I all know, and who would that be except _o_d_? I asked Bill if that's who it was, and he said yes. He was quite disturbed by the behavior of this individual, as he should be. I found it funny that _o_d_ did the hand butt pant stuffing like _i_e and the hip thrusting like _o_e_. I attributed it to them all being sex-crazed perverts. Then Bill sat down with us. It was a nice sunny warm day, so he took off his shirt. His hair was straighter and not as grey as it is IRL. I think he was younger in the dream than IRL.

I was on a plane. I don't remember flying, but I remember landing. It was as if I woke up in the dream as soon as we landed. I wasn't sitting in a seat, but on the floor. There was a big open spot between seats and that's where I sat. I looked out the window and heard the pilot say something about the runway. Then we stopped and it got really foggy outside. Then I could feel the plane turn around and then we started to taxi down the runway. For some reason I knew we were in an "A" city like Albuquerque or Atlanta, but I don't know which. The plane started to taxi down a city street. I could see cars and trucks out the window. I thought it was very odd, because it was just like these reoccurring dreams I have where I'm on a plane traveling down a highway. Newsflash: This is a reoccurring dream where the plane is traveling down a highway. Then I feel the plane start to lift as we're getting into a congested area, but it bumps some vehicle like a tall truck. I hear the passengers all gasp, but neither the truck or the plane seemed to be damaged. Then we lift some more, but we don't go into the sky, we keep hovering over the highway. Odd.

I also know there was a lot more to these dreams than I can remember, like being on some kind of boat, but it was so mixed up and confusing that I can't remember it.

Labels: Dreams

I had a dream that Nirvana was having a concert and that Kurt Coban was still alive and there were as many as 5 people in the band. Music sounded great, but it was a short dream and I unfortunately didn't get the whole concert.

Labels: Dreams

First they cut you. They slice your body and sever you from your roots back home. Your forefathers may have made beautiful furniture or houses. Your cousins make art or books, or are involved in communication. Some of your relatives even make money. Not such a noble fate awaits you. They pack you together and spray paint you because your natural color isn't good enough, and then they put a price on your head--the pretty ones will always get more--selling you at the side of the road. You are thirsty, you need water. You are dying, but first you must suffer final humiliation. You are taken to a hot, dry place where they dress you with plastic and thin metals and gaudy colors, like a cheap hooker. They give you water, but it won't save you. You stay there, propped up, a symbol for some Frankenholiday, part Pagan, part Christian, all Capitalist. But Pagans would not have killed you, they would have let you live and grow. As your final life blood dries hard in your body, you are tossed out to the side of the road where your corpse lays for days, disintegrating, then finally swept up, and shredded into dust. You lived 10 years for this, so that some family in America can think they're "normal?"

Labels: Politically Incorrect

OK, so I am hearing now that Michael Richards might be SUED for what he said the other night during his not funny racist rant. I am in no way defending what he said...it was disturbing and shocking and horrible. But SUED? Ok, not SUED, exactly, but they are consulting lawyers to see if Richards should appear in front of a retired judge to determine how much he should pay in restitution. Or something like that. I just heard it on the news and it didn't make a lot of sense. Supposedly the guys who he cussed out are claiming damages for pain and suffering. 'the hell? If I had a dime for every time someone said something bad to me or wrote something bad to me or about me or insulted me that caused me to have literal pain and suffering due to stress, I'd be so well off, I wouldn't need to find a very rich has-been comedian with deep pockets to sue. I'd just like to know how these guys can sue, or, whatever it is they're doing, over this. Yes, what he said to them was awful, but, come on, the crowd was behind them, they were the heroes and Richards was the villain. If it were me, I'd be feeling pretty good knowing that everyone was on my side and against the asshole cussing me out.

Labels: Politically Incorrect

I had this dream Sunday night:

I was at my parent's house and was looking up at the ceiling. IRL, my parents have normal 60s-era drywalled ceilings on the main level and the bathroom and bedroom in the basement, however in the rest of the basement it is either unfinished or there is one of those asbestos drop ceilings. IRL, I also just happened to notice the drop ceiling in the large basement room this time when we were visiting, in terms of it actually struck me and I gave it thought, as opposed to not having thought about it ever before: "hmm...they have one of those ugly asbestos tile drop ceilings in here and it's been here forever and I've never REALLY noticed it until now and naturally they never fixed it and kept it exactly as it was when they moved in in 1973." As an ironic side note, we bought our house in 1990 and the people who lived here before us also purchased this house in 1973 and pretty much kept it the same. There were asbestos drop ceiling tiles in the master bedroom (different kind than what is at my parents, but gross nonetheless) and that was the 2nd thing to go, the first being the dirty smoke-filled orange shag carpeting in that room. I remember looking at a lot of houses when we were in the market, and so many had those drop ceiling asbestos tiles. What is up with that? Yet I digress. Let's get back to the dream.

Anyway, I was looking up at the ceiling in either my former bedroom or the master bedroom and noticed it was covered with those awful drop ceiling asbestos tiles. Some of them were slightly shifted, so I could look up a space and see right up to the attic, which wasn't a dark shallow place at all (my parents have a small ranch-style brick house with a low-pitch roof typical of early 60s era ranch style houses like that), but a high-pitched roof that had large glass panneled areas that let in lots of light. Now this is rather hard to explain, but picture looking at the roof-line on a ranch house, and envision it as a mountain ridge. Now imagine that the mountain ridge is split in areas between rooms, like between two bedrooms there is a split, between the living room and my former bedroom there is a split, and between the living room and the garage there is another split, each forming a steep "canyon" or "gorge" several feet wide, and the sides of these "roof canyon" walls was comprised of tiled glass. That is what I saw when I looked up between the cracks in the drop ceiling. I also noticed that there was sort of a loft area that was accessible by steps from the main floor. I was outraged that my parents never opened up their attic to display these incredible windows. I was thinking how many plants they could have there, but instead, they're just hidden by a fake drop ceiling (probably to conserve heat...heh).

I kept thinking about that attic. I frequently have dreams that there's something funky going on with my parent's house, or that it is different in layout. I have this reoccurring dream that somewhere between their front door and my former bedroom, there is all-natural wood panneled den with doors leading not only outside, but also to the bedroom and to the hallways.

I had some odd dreams last night about buying mass quantities of candybars with other people in a strange basement vending area although I didn't want to, and something about being with a bunch of people including Tim, sitting in a theatre or restaurant or someplace, and a good-looking blond guy who starts giving Tim a b_o_ j_b. I'm afraid the other people would freakout, but no one seemed to notice except me.

Labels: Dreams

I am really sick of rich kids getting bailed out by their rich daddies. Typical irresponsible frat boys that take risks because they *know* if they screw up, daddy's always there to bail them out. Those of us who don't have daddies that could or would bail us out wouldn't have taken those risks in the first place.

See, I think that's the other part of the equation. It's not *just* the lack of studying in school and getting a good education so you know your world history and know better than to "get -us- stuck in Iraq" although that is part of it. It's this sense of invincibility that people like these rich boys feel, where if they wreck the car, daddy will buy them a new one. And daddy's always the big enabler because he doesn't want to see his son as a fuckup, which will in turn reflect badly on daddy.

Labels: Politically Incorrect

We were driving our van and it was a cold winter day and there was a lot of snow on the ground. I think that Stan or I or both of us were running in some kind of local election...I think, but I'm not sure (yeah, like that'd happen). For some reason our opponent (who seemed very Soccer Mom) was after us and she was driving some utility truck with an orange cab. She was trying to hit our van with her truck. We were on Bashford between Winnebago and Rusk where the hill is steep. We are trying to park on the road in a big snowbank in an attempt to get away from our crazy opponent. We wedged the van in a big snowbank, and for some reason the nutcase gave up, even though I'm sure we weren't out of reach. She went into a nearby store (even though there aren't any stores near there) and I followed her. I think she worked there. She had a daughter there (around 7 or 8) with her. I don't think she knew who I was when I entered. The store sold stuff behind counters...watches, soulless jewelry, worthless gifts. I approached her talking about mundane things at first, but then I asked her, "why did you try and hit my van?" "what were you trying to accomplish by doing that?" words to that effect. A customer came in, older white man about 55 or so, conservative clothing. She evaded me and finally left the building. I then told the man, "She tried to hit my van with her truck." Then, at this point I didn't even care if I lost or won the election, all I cared about is revenge and slandering this woman's name (well, it's not slander if it's the truth), so I even approached her daughter and said, "did you know your mommy tried to hit my car?" Fortunately, the radio woke me up before this stupid dream went much further.

Labels: Dreams

All through the dream I kept thinking, 'What is she thinking?'. This dream has no reasonable logic in real life except possibly that I'm not understanding what my wife is thinking - at least in this dream.

Ann and I were talking to our friend, Bill at his work site and she took out a gun and killed him. I dived to the floor when the shots started, and was wondering why she was doing this. Additionally, there were other people around and it wasn't like she was going to do this without witnesses. 'What was she thinking??? Shooting a friend with witnesses???

Then she runs the gun down a garbage disposal to get rid of the evidence. Yea, like that will work...

The dream was a little disturbing and I had to ask Ann if it was OK to write about this one.

Labels: Dreams

IRL Stan was snoring in the morning around 5 AM, so I turned on the radio to block it out. The show "People's Pharmacy" came on @ 6 AM, and WPR was having a pledge drive. Of course, this all played into my dream.

I dreamt I was at the doctor's office, just having a consultation. The doctor was a woman, fairly young, white, nondescript. After she finished with my appointment, she started to tell me that "they have to do this" and then she starts giving me a talk on how I should subscribe or donate to their service. There's this thing on her desk which is sort of like one of those wall-hung light tables where doctors hang x-rays, but instead it had amounts for different levels of subscriptions. I'm wondering whether I should just tell her I'm not interested/can't afford it, or let her finish her spiel before I tell her that. I wondered which would be the rudest. I think I finally did tell her I can't afford it, and she starts talking to me about how the $150 level is still very affordable, and I told her she didn't know what my salary was.

Labels: Dreams

I was in a very large old Victorian-era house that was rather sparse in the furnishings. I was a kept person and had to ask permission to do anything. There was an opening from one room to another that was separated with lathed wooden bars that could easily be squeezed through by an adult human. On the other side of the bars, that room seemed to lead to a staircase. I was scared to go through the bars without asking permission first. The man I had to ask permission from (brown hair, 30-something, average, white, nondescript) was in a livingroom-type area. He was lazing on a couch with a woman under a blanket, however they were spaced quite far apart and not touching eachother, but they were moaning as if in the throes of making love. I asked him if I could go upstairs, but he said he was too busy to bother with me and to come back later. I went and sat on a stair landing by another staircase. Some other guy (blond, facial hair, long hair, dirty hippy looking) outside in another large building could see me through the window and he was staring lecherously at me. I did not like that life.

Labels: Dreams

OK, so I subscribe to groups and catalogues that unabashedly post photographs of protruding stamens and pistils. I admit it, I'm sort of addicted. So I got this online catalogue today and really couldn't believe my eyes. ARE THEY REALLY THESE COLORS?

Caution, the following link may not be suitable for people who do not appreciate flowers or gardening.
Hot Daylilies

I want to...grow them...so badly.

Labels: Plants

IRL I was listening to WPR before I woke up. Because it's election day, they wanted to do their morning segments with lighthearted apolitical subject matter. I slept through the first hour, but in their second hour they were discussing TV shows from the past (their guest was some man who wrote a book on the topic). The host was asking questions, prompting listeners to call in, "what TV shows do you remember as a kid? What were your favorites? What shows do you think were the most influential?" In my dream state, I was in a classroom-like setting and was trying to answer these questions and raising my hand, but the "teacher" (Joy the WPR host) never called on me. I've had dreams like this before when a question is posed on the radio, I formulate an answer in my semi-unconscious state, I try to answer, but they never let me answer and go on to a caller instead.

I also had a dream I was in a hotel that was sort of new like a Super Comfort Days Inn type architecture, but when I got inside there was something very old fashioned mom and pop motel about the architecture, like they had reconverted it somehow. Sort of hard to explain.

Labels: Dreams

This dream I had the night before last.

I was walking in the CSU art building with Stan, and a gang of teenage Asian-Americans were heading our way. They didn't move aside and bumped right into us, disorienting us. As they walked past, I realized my purse was gone, and figured out this was a tactic to disorient the victim and then pickpocket them. I then started telling them that they took my purse Next thing I knew, I was sitting down and talking to them. One of them was touching my leg and I was getting turned on, so I started feeling him. All rather embarrassing.

Labels: Dreams

IRL I had the radio on this morning and I can only assume they were discussing the John Kerry mangled words thing because it set a very strange stage for my dream.

I was in a house that seemed like mine, but I was actually taking a tour of John Kerry's house. I can't remember other people in the dream, but there was a narrator providing some history. I went upstairs to look at the bedroom, and I was surprised how plain and...unimproved...it was. It was just a bed, a small dresser and wooden floors...OLD wooden floors, with thick, unpolished boards painted a greyish blue. It looked like something out of the colonial era, and in fact, the "narrator" was saying how the senator liked the look of colonial New England which was why his house was so simple. Then later, I snuck upstairs to look at the bedroom again, leaving the rest of the tour. I was just baffled how someone with money would want such a simple, unmodern, almost creepy bedroom. As I was coming down the stairs, the banister seemed to change into a chrome art deco style. As I reached the foot of the stairs, there was a strange tub-like structure on the first floor in front of me with a cover propped up like the cover of a grande piano. My cat, Caligula, was sitting on the rim of this object. I looked into it and realized it was the ledge around the stairwell to the basement. I started to pet Caligula, but he fell into the stairwell. I was afraid he was hurt. Somehow he ran back up the stairs and then ran outside, but he walked crookedly. In fact, his whole body alginment seemed crooked. I followed him outside and petted him. He rolled over on his back and let me pet his belly. He seemed thinner than he is and his ribcage seemed to stick out a bit. I looked into his eyes and instead of glassy, they seemed frosted. I called for Stan over and over to come, but he called back that he'd be just a minute, and by the sound of his voice he seemed agitated, like he didn't want to come. I was worried about my kitty.

Labels: Animals, Dreams

I can't remember coherent sequences, just snippets:

I was young (teenager) and trying to walk home from school to eat lunch. I ended up in someone's basement, and I couldn't get out too easily. It was very muddy and dirty, and I remember seeing some very small tarnished Bali spacer beads, but it was more like they were hardware...nuts, bolts and washers. But very small, silver hardware.

I saw an easy chair, so I sat down, and then an animal sat down with me. At first I thought it was a sheep. It was very pale colored and had a very human face. The fur was soft but very short. Then it started growling at me, and insted of a sheep I realized it was some sort of large undomesticated cat, like a mountain lion, except it had spots like a leopard, but it was still very pale colored. It reminded me of a Lemon Chrysoprase pendant I have that looks leopard spotted. I tried to be nice to the beast, but it was getting rough with me. I was afraid I would become a Roy Horn sort of casualty at the hands (paws?) of this creature.

I think I was still trying to get out of the dirty basement. Stan was now with me (I guess I'm my present age now) and he spotted an elevator. He grabs some strange stuff in a spray can and starts spraying the elevator, which breaks up the rust on it which allows it to open up. He gets inside the elevator, which has a concrete floor, and he wants me to get inside with him, but I'm afraid it won't work and we'll be stuck in the elevator.

Then I'm in a car with Stan and we're trying to find a Pancake(s*) House. We're driving all around an ugly part of some city, strip malls, car dealerships, driving in and out of parking lots trying to find pancakes. I see very large letters on top of a building that seem to spell "Pancake" so we pull into a parking lot by the letters. We try to park by one of the letters (somehow, it seemed it was spelled differently in the dream) but we had a hard time getting into the lot because there was a swimming pool in the way and we didn't want to fall into it.

*Fargo humour

Labels: Dreams