The Dream of the Giant Fractal Woodlouse. — Page 11

Sounds reasonable.

Except it actually does.

You won’t get any argument from me.

Here’s the strangest set of dreams I’ve had in a very long while. (Considering how strange my dreams almost always are, you know you’re in for something a might trippy.)

Things began with me in a hospital. I don’t know what the reasons for me being there were (probably psychological reasons), but John Lithgow was there. No, I can’t recall whether he was part of the staff or a patient nor can I recall him actually doing or saying anything, but he was there just the same.

Then things got odd. I found myself in a supermarket, where I donned a Superman-esque costume with an inverted colour scheme (think blue-and-red rather than red-and-blue) and began flying around. Orderlies from the hospital were there, trying to capture me, but I flew too fast for them to catch me. Then I was back at the hospital (I think). There I met the Smallville Superman and got into an argument with him; I criticized him for turning Clark Kent into a simpering disguise and engaged him in a philosophical debate over what it meant to be Clark Kent.

Then I found myself at home. I was no longer wearing the costume, but I could still fly. I can often fly in my dreams; it’s my dream power, you could say. I can’t usually fly very high, though; often, it’s closer to levitation than true flight most of the time. This time, however, I was going higher than I ever had before. It was a mild, sunny day, and I could touch the treetops; it was exhilarating. As I’d always wanted to know what my house rooftop looked like, I wanted to fly up there. I still couldn’t quite fly that high. Luckily for me, Laurie Metcalf was there to give me a hand. Boosting me up, I was able to fly up high enough to grab hold of the roof’s edge. Unfortunately, it turned out the entire roof was rotten; unable to support my weight, that entire side of the roof gave way; I fell to the ground along with pieces of rotten, waterlogged siding.

The dream then turned creepy. I was suddenly in my old bedroom. As ominous ambient music played in the background, I watched as the ceiling slowly disintegrated, crumbling under the pressure of the waterlogged insulation sitting above it.

Then I found myself in a video store. There were two different BD sets of Jeffrey Combs horror movies available, on sale for only literally a couple bucks each. Unfortunately, I didn’t even have $2 on me, so I couldn’t buy either one.

Then I found myself watching a Rod Stewart music video. He was driving around the outskirts of a suburb with a blonde in a black convertible at night. Did I mention he was Rod Stewart? Yeah, he was – even though he looked like David Bowie and sounded like Mick Jagger. Anyway, as they drove around, night turned to day, the black convertible turned to a white minivan, and the blonde turned into an entourage of several men. Suddenly, I found myself in the music video. The minivan pulled up beside me, Stewart’s entourage got out, and this one man – a police officer with his face caked in mud – pushed me to the ground and apprehended me.

I was taken to an insane asylum, and who should happen to be the attending psychologist but Patrick Bateman! Dr. Bateman was too busy treating other patients with chainsaws and blowtorches to see me right away. Luckily for all concerned, John Saxon was there to save the day. Dressed in pink sweatshirt and sweatpants, he confronted Bateman. Pulling two flare guns out from the waistband of his sweatpants, he asked Bateman if he was feeling lucky. Bateman, pussy that he is, couldn’t stand up to the Saxon and surrendered almost immediately without resistance.

This is a first for me: a Star Trek dream.

Judging by the uniforms and state of technology, I’d say it took place in the timeframe of TMP. I wanna say it took place sometime after TMP – McCoy was an established member of the crew, and it felt like the V’Ger incident was recent history – but only now was Spock returning to the Enterprise after leaving his Kohlinahr studies on Vulcan. Also, Kirk had a girlfriend, a lady who was totally into purple; her clothes, her makeup, and even her hair (and hairpieces) were purple.

Here’s the most memorable part of the dream. It was Halloween and most everybody on the ship was wearing a costume. McCoy, dressed as a 1920s moonshiner, had brewed his own hooch in a radiator to celebrate the occasion. When he and Kirk went to sample it, though, they both spit it out violently due to the horrid taste. Kirk then suggested they enjoy a snifter of brandy instead. Filling his brandy glass, Kirk started pouring the glass of botched booze down the sink when Spock wondered it. When Spock asked him why he was starting on the brandy without finishing the moonshine, McCoy told him it was an Earth tradition. Spock took his word for it.

^THIS

^^^^^^^^^^^^^NOT THAT

I had a dream that the second season of Stranger Things was already available for streaming, that I wouldn’t have to wait months to see where the story goes.

*sigh* Why can’t life come with a fast forward button?

DuracellEnergizer said:

I had a dream that the second season of Stranger Things was already available for streaming, that I wouldn’t have to wait months to see where the story goes.

*sigh* Why can’t life come with a fast forward button?

Just take 90 or so roofies.

Had another one of my patented “watching a movie” dreams.

In this movie/dream, Bryan Adams played a married father of three. When his youngest son died, he decided to leave his wife and two remaining children and become a bounty hunter; donning gray pants and a gray ranger hat with some weird head-sleeve that come out from under the brim, he took to wandering a perpetually stormy wilderness in search of criminals to bring to justice.

Had myself another Trek dream. This one was far more conventional than the one I mentioned before. It took place during the Dominion War, before Jadzia Dax’s death.

For the last several decades/couple centuries, an offshoot of the Federation had been living within a pocket universe in self-imposed exile, but they had returned, claiming they wanted to rejoin the Federation and assist in the fight against the Dominion.

Sisko, Jadzia, Bashir, myself (assuming the role of an anonymous goldshirt who had the hots for Jadzia), and a security team travelled to an uninhabited planet to meet with the representatives of the Offshoots. Once we were there, though, we were attacked by Offshoot ships. Taken prisoner, we were sent into the pocket universe to the Offshoot capital world, where we learned the Offshoots’ true plan was to conquer the Federation and make it a part of their own cruel empire.

Some weird metafictional shit then went down. We were placed in a watery cell, but it really was just a shallow tank on a set, with cameras pointed at us. Then the tank was a waterlogged wooden floor, which I laid upon and slapped to produce the in-camera sound effects.

We then found ourselves in a small room, where we found a twelve-year-old boy sitting at a table under a solitary bright light furiously cutting and trimming pictures out of magazines. When we asked him if he was making a collage, he told us that while the Offshoots sometimes allowed him to glue the clippings into his scrapbook, for the most part they were forcing him to aimlessly cut the pictures out for hours on end just as a form of psychological torture.

The dream went hazy after that. There was an evil bulldog alien and a large box full of Simpsons comics, but that’s all I remember from that point forward.

[JEDIT]

Oh, and the Offshoot ruling family were distant relatives of Sisko or something.

After a long dry spell, here are some more truly bizarro dreams from yours truly.

This dream started out with me watching B-grade horror movies from the '80s on VHS. Donald Trump appeared in the first movie, playing himself. He chastised a female character for finding religion, then he began monologuing to himself, ruminating on how he once tried putting faith into a higher power before he decided to put faith in himself.

Then gears shifted and the second movie was on. A small group of wealthy, spoiled, effete teenagers/early twenty-somethings decided to hold a seance in the last house remaining from an old, decaying neighbourhood that was otherwise completely bulldozed over and replaced with brand-spanking new houses built for the rich decades before. Assembling at a table in a room located at the centre of the dark, decrepit building, they used florescent ink and florescent gas (whatever that it) as conjuring substances to call forth one of the house’s spirit. Quite suddenly a short, squat woman with short, tangled red hair, wild eyes, and an unnaturally wide mouth materialized on the table. Scared shitless, they all bolted from the room; some got lost in the old house, but most managed to get out and to safety. I don’t know what became of those trapped with the spirit.

The dream realigned, and no longer was I watching any movies. Now I was in some sterile classroom, where a social worker gave me a list of addresses to outfits which could help me find a job. I tried copying some of the addresses down on a piece of paper, but for some reason I was having trouble concentrating and couldn’t do it.

In a flash, I was then on the back porch of my house. I was there with the social worker, and she was trying to talk to my inner spirit, which looked like a human-shaped bundle of dead leaves dressed in a blue vest (the very one I’m wearing as I type this, in fact). When I told the social worker her presence wasn’t helping, that my inner spirit wouldn’t emerge with her standing around acting all domineering, she left. Then my inner spirit took on its true form; it looked like a dirty Avery Brooks. My inner spirit began lamenting on how it – and by extension, myself – should’ve married and had children by now.

The dreams abruptly ended there.

Over Christmas I had a rather disturbing nightmare.
In the dream I’m sitting down with my sister to watch ‘Christmas television’.
I turn a channel and there is this rather freaky show where people wrapped in clear plastic like Laura Palmer but wiggling around and people were hitting them with cricket bats and sticks.
Horrified I turn the television off and apologise to my sister explaining I had no idea that the show would be like that.
She apathetically went out of the room and went back to bed (which was in some ways the worst part of the dream).

If you ever decide to read Batman Odyssey, be warned; reading that disjointed batshit craziness may induce episodes of sleep paralysis and bizarre dreams of you transforming into Nicolas Cage.

I had a dream that a wild squirrel took a liking to me, so I decided to adopt as a pet. It was afraid of the dogs and wary of the cats, so I took care to keep the squirrel close to me whenever they were around. I kept the squirrel for a number of years, and the two of us grew very close. Then the squirrel grew old and died.

Instead of giving the squirrel a decent burial, my family took it, skinned it, and cooked it up for dinner. Needless to say, I was enraged. I took my cooked squirrel away from then and went on a rage-induced rampage.

Then I was killed by Kandarian demons.

Did it look like Daisy Ridley?

I think it was a male squirrel, so no.

I had a dream last night that I was reunited and locked lips with one of the best girls I dated in High School. She still had the same awesome perfume and kissing her was just as sublime.

That is all.

😃

I don’t like sex dreams. Mine are almost always poorly coordinated and rarely end satisfactorily.

DuracellEnergizer said:

I don’t like sex dreams. Mine are almost always poorly coordinated and rarely end satisfactorily.

It wasn’t a sex dream, it was just a dream dream.

NO SEX DREAM

NO SEX DREAM

YOU’RE THE SEX DREAM

^You and the wife need to get out more.

😉

Had this creepy dream where I became a grave robber. My skullduggery ended up drawing the attention of this tall, thin, bald, yellow-skinned man in a black suit who didn’t take kindly to my desecration of the dead. When he attacked me, I cut off one of his hands; yellow blood spurted all over me, quickly congealing into a mustard-like consistency.

I believe the dream trailed off there, leaving me with the feeling that this man – whoever, whatever he was – wasn’t yet finished with me.