Thursday, December 31, 2009
Uphill Battle
Jackie Mittoo - Dream Organ
Any time anyone tries to read my handwriting, they rightfully cower at its atrociousness. 90% of the time when I write, I am writing for myself. Gone are the days of penpals and blue book essays. I wonder if these darn kids these days write sloppier due to the mass availability of keyboards, big and small.
Waking up in the middle of the night to write down what I just experienced clearly will bring on even worse handwriting then normal, and not fleshing out the idea the next morning is the final nail in the coffin.
So here I sit with a few post it notes worth of scribble trying to design a story or two. I start with what I think I wrote first: "rain @ comp. cake w/Sam" That Sam may be a Sarra, not sure. Underneath it says "feeding turn -> cat."
What I remember is that I was taking turns with Sarah feeding a cupcake to a cat. I may sell that to the Dr. Suess estate. I am realizing this isn't as fun as originally planned. I had pictured a montage of dreams that combine into a mega-dream, but these notes have certainly expired.
There is one scribble, however, that I brings back a clear memory where I was in a bubble, maybe a helicopter, flying low over the ocean. I could see all the marine life- mainly the big boys- whales, sharks, and octopuses. There was the thrill of danger right below competing with the safety of my chopper. Oh how I long for the open sea. Okay, yeah this is over.
Enjoy the song that these writings are based on.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Louisa May Alcott was a Babe
Elton John - Tiny Dancer
Okay, I know earlier I stated that if I didn't remember a dream, I would make one up and it'd be this great guessing game for ages 1-99. For the record's sake, this dream did happen and it is exactly why I started writing these down.
Finally finishing an intense week at work, my mind can relax, so naturally it focused on little people, midgets, tiny dancers, whatever term you want to use. Cut to the dreamscape:
I am sitting on my parents bed in Long Island. In front of me is Debbie Lee Carrington, of Seinfeld (Tammy) and Total Recall (Thumbelina) fame (among many other things). The irony does not escape me that when I searched for her image, I set the filter to "large" pictures only.
Now it makes sense that I am seeing Debbie Lee specifically, because she's pretty hot and even if I wasn't dreaming, I would follow in my dream's footsteps, but forget blatant uses of foreshadowing, let's move on. At this point, I'm sitting on the bed, while her back is to me. On her back is a tattoo of the letter A in a circle. However, when she moves, the letter changes from A to B and then to C. A hologram tattoo. (Any investors listening?)
I was thoroughly impressed, but she revealed her secret to me, by stepping closer, and now I can see there were actually the three letter tattoos on her back all along and she must have been moving in a way that made it appear as one changing.
There was nothing sexual in this at the time, despite the fact that she's topless. That is, until my boss of all people, opens the door to the room and realizes what's going on (she got the front view of Debbie Lee, her back still faces me). Her reaction? An embarrassed grin and "There's paper towels on desk." That was the turning point, and I reached out to Debbie Lee's back to initiate a massage. (Okay kiddies, it's time to go to bed, Daddy's watching his special program).
When I touch her back, I can sense both a reluctant stiffness and a submission to a forbidden excitement (take that Harlequin Enterprises!). We jump cut to making out aggressively on the bed. As we are kissing, I notice she is not moving her tongue, and its mostly me sucking on her tongue.I must have inquired because she then sticks her tongue out at me, which was actually a browning, unpeeled banana. No wonder it felt so odd! This was a key moment in my dreamlife, whether to sexually progress with a banana-tongued little person. And for everyone who knows me, you can guess my decision.
We continued to let out our aggressions on each other and when I went for the next move, I was surprised (although the banana should have been a tipoff) that Debbie Lee Carrington was actually a hermaphrodite. Now mind you I've never seen a hermaphrodite but I've seen both a vagina and a penis, and I was a decent math student so it wouldn't be hard to imagine (apparently not).
This "little" fact "stunted" our time together (cheap, I know). Carrie Lee, being embarrassed, explained "Now you understand why I am still a virgin." But being the gentleman that I am, I used this shocker (no, not the fact that she's a virgin) to keep the conversation going and I actually asked the following question: "So do you like having both parts so you have more options, or would you rather have one set and just be attracted to one sex?"
I was really rationalizing this one. When I asked that, my assumption was that if you have a penis, you seek out vaginas, and vice versa but clearly not everyone follows that mantra.
Regardless, this would be a cream dream for Freud (couldn't avoid that one). A question I have to ask myself is, would this have turned sexual if my boss hadn't appeared? If no, there's an association of sexiness with her (which is something I once believed impossible, but now doubt seeps in, in the form of Debbie Lee). That may seem like a minor question in this huge pile of "Wait, what the fuck? What about the fact that you were on your parents bed with a hermaphrodite?" All I know is that I'll have to fulfill my destiny of finding Debbie Lee and knowing the truth.
Okay, I know earlier I stated that if I didn't remember a dream, I would make one up and it'd be this great guessing game for ages 1-99. For the record's sake, this dream did happen and it is exactly why I started writing these down.
Finally finishing an intense week at work, my mind can relax, so naturally it focused on little people, midgets, tiny dancers, whatever term you want to use. Cut to the dreamscape:
I am sitting on my parents bed in Long Island. In front of me is Debbie Lee Carrington, of Seinfeld (Tammy) and Total Recall (Thumbelina) fame (among many other things). The irony does not escape me that when I searched for her image, I set the filter to "large" pictures only.
Now it makes sense that I am seeing Debbie Lee specifically, because she's pretty hot and even if I wasn't dreaming, I would follow in my dream's footsteps, but forget blatant uses of foreshadowing, let's move on. At this point, I'm sitting on the bed, while her back is to me. On her back is a tattoo of the letter A in a circle. However, when she moves, the letter changes from A to B and then to C. A hologram tattoo. (Any investors listening?)
I was thoroughly impressed, but she revealed her secret to me, by stepping closer, and now I can see there were actually the three letter tattoos on her back all along and she must have been moving in a way that made it appear as one changing.
There was nothing sexual in this at the time, despite the fact that she's topless. That is, until my boss of all people, opens the door to the room and realizes what's going on (she got the front view of Debbie Lee, her back still faces me). Her reaction? An embarrassed grin and "There's paper towels on desk." That was the turning point, and I reached out to Debbie Lee's back to initiate a massage. (Okay kiddies, it's time to go to bed, Daddy's watching his special program).
When I touch her back, I can sense both a reluctant stiffness and a submission to a forbidden excitement (take that Harlequin Enterprises!). We jump cut to making out aggressively on the bed. As we are kissing, I notice she is not moving her tongue, and its mostly me sucking on her tongue.I must have inquired because she then sticks her tongue out at me, which was actually a browning, unpeeled banana. No wonder it felt so odd! This was a key moment in my dreamlife, whether to sexually progress with a banana-tongued little person. And for everyone who knows me, you can guess my decision.
We continued to let out our aggressions on each other and when I went for the next move, I was surprised (although the banana should have been a tipoff) that Debbie Lee Carrington was actually a hermaphrodite. Now mind you I've never seen a hermaphrodite but I've seen both a vagina and a penis, and I was a decent math student so it wouldn't be hard to imagine (apparently not).
This "little" fact "stunted" our time together (cheap, I know). Carrie Lee, being embarrassed, explained "Now you understand why I am still a virgin." But being the gentleman that I am, I used this shocker (no, not the fact that she's a virgin) to keep the conversation going and I actually asked the following question: "So do you like having both parts so you have more options, or would you rather have one set and just be attracted to one sex?"
I was really rationalizing this one. When I asked that, my assumption was that if you have a penis, you seek out vaginas, and vice versa but clearly not everyone follows that mantra.
Regardless, this would be a cream dream for Freud (couldn't avoid that one). A question I have to ask myself is, would this have turned sexual if my boss hadn't appeared? If no, there's an association of sexiness with her (which is something I once believed impossible, but now doubt seeps in, in the form of Debbie Lee). That may seem like a minor question in this huge pile of "Wait, what the fuck? What about the fact that you were on your parents bed with a hermaphrodite?" All I know is that I'll have to fulfill my destiny of finding Debbie Lee and knowing the truth.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Cue the Music
Vanity Fare - Hitchin a Ride
I must have been excited for this since last night it was non stop with the dreams. Impressed? Yeah I'm not either. It was odd though. I woke up around 4:14 and fell back asleep right away only to jump back into the REM cycle, and then again woke up at 5 something. As someone already pointed out after I shared it the first time, I had the ultimate Jew dream since I was sitting with the Seinfeld cast at picnic table. I remember the features of Larry David's face being much sharper though, if you can believe that.
The feature presentation though, involved a walk down a dark highway. The road would eventually lead to a dock, where I would take a boat to my boss's house on the lake (said house does not really exist in reality). It's night time, dark as hell, yet I can see where I'm going and can distinctly make out green highway signs for 495 every five feet along the road. They shine like they do in reality (usually due to your car's light but in this case, they were self-illuminated). I'm excited as I enjoy this creepy walk in the woods (I have a habit of trying to freak myself out by doing this when the opportunity rises in the real world). (It seems I have habit of using parentheses and so far every time, it's to announce something back in reality, so let's stick with that rule).
Why wouldn't I be excited? I get to take a boat to a lake house where I'm hoping they are serving some BBQ. As I make my way, I happen to stumble upon my friend JC. I say stumble because he's about 2 inches tall. Knowing that you only fight someone your own size, I sudden shrink to his height and we begin exchanging fisticuffs (yeah, you love it as much as I love my thesaurus. Suck it college creative writing teacher! I'll never back down!) Only a few punches in, and we jump to regular height and continue fighting. (Is this because I refer to Alice in Wonderland last time?) The fight comes to a close and logically I call my boss to tell him to turn the lights on. I never make it to the dock.
Reading what I scribbled down when waking up yet again, I slightly remember playing basketball using coins into a can with Sammy, the son of one of the employees of the camp I went to. More entertaining (and real) was the fact that one of my bunkmates would wear tiny ankle socks that were dubbed "Sammy socks" because at the time, Sammy was 4 years old. Ironically, I now swear by ankle high socks, but an apology was never issued to the above sock wearer.
I must have been excited for this since last night it was non stop with the dreams. Impressed? Yeah I'm not either. It was odd though. I woke up around 4:14 and fell back asleep right away only to jump back into the REM cycle, and then again woke up at 5 something. As someone already pointed out after I shared it the first time, I had the ultimate Jew dream since I was sitting with the Seinfeld cast at picnic table. I remember the features of Larry David's face being much sharper though, if you can believe that.
The feature presentation though, involved a walk down a dark highway. The road would eventually lead to a dock, where I would take a boat to my boss's house on the lake (said house does not really exist in reality). It's night time, dark as hell, yet I can see where I'm going and can distinctly make out green highway signs for 495 every five feet along the road. They shine like they do in reality (usually due to your car's light but in this case, they were self-illuminated). I'm excited as I enjoy this creepy walk in the woods (I have a habit of trying to freak myself out by doing this when the opportunity rises in the real world). (It seems I have habit of using parentheses and so far every time, it's to announce something back in reality, so let's stick with that rule).
Why wouldn't I be excited? I get to take a boat to a lake house where I'm hoping they are serving some BBQ. As I make my way, I happen to stumble upon my friend JC. I say stumble because he's about 2 inches tall. Knowing that you only fight someone your own size, I sudden shrink to his height and we begin exchanging fisticuffs (yeah, you love it as much as I love my thesaurus. Suck it college creative writing teacher! I'll never back down!) Only a few punches in, and we jump to regular height and continue fighting. (Is this because I refer to Alice in Wonderland last time?) The fight comes to a close and logically I call my boss to tell him to turn the lights on. I never make it to the dock.
Reading what I scribbled down when waking up yet again, I slightly remember playing basketball using coins into a can with Sammy, the son of one of the employees of the camp I went to. More entertaining (and real) was the fact that one of my bunkmates would wear tiny ankle socks that were dubbed "Sammy socks" because at the time, Sammy was 4 years old. Ironically, I now swear by ankle high socks, but an apology was never issued to the above sock wearer.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
I Love Brownies
Skip below this rambling to the **** for the actual dream..
Chocolate fudge with chocolate icing. What more can you ask for? How about pot brownies? Yeah, that'll do.
Pot brownies and I have a special relationship. At the peak of my worst experience I was throwing up for about a half hour nonstop and every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Mario jumping and hitting the coin box over and over a la the original Super Mario Brothers. I learned my lesson from that one and reduced my intake.
I don't know if every time I trip off a brownie I have crazy dreams, but I am convinced that the brownies act in similar ways to the potion and cake in Alice in Wonderland where she ingests each one causing an imbalance in her size. Where the fuck am I going with this? Well when I'm stoned from this brownie, I certainly feel imbalanced, and more so like a screws loose. Picture this- every single person on the planet has a position- a role that takes many faces- a scientist who is also a father, a brother, a friend, an avid masturbator, etc. Well after I trip, I feel like I fell out of place in my position and I need to be knocked back in. Otherwise, I wake around in a daze, knowing something just not right. And of course, the only answer to put me back in my place is another brownie. No, not true. Some sort of an event- whether it be beer, punch in the face... anything refreshing like that. This has gone on too long....
*****
So the night I slept off my brownie experience was on Saturday and seeing it is Tuesday, that is lightyears in dream memory. However, to the best of my memory, I was being chased by two gigantic and beautiful women (think the ending to Dude, Where's My Car). Honestly, that's all I got. Was I caught? Maybe. Did they swallow me whole, or kick me around, use me as a back scratcher? The point is I'm going to write these down when they happen the night after so you aren't shafted like this example. Maybe that's why I wrote an extended intro.
I could analyze it now. Hmm, let's see. A guy being chased by a large beautiful woman- sounds like you have some great dreams. Gee, thanks doc. I'll try to keep on having them.
Chocolate fudge with chocolate icing. What more can you ask for? How about pot brownies? Yeah, that'll do.
Pot brownies and I have a special relationship. At the peak of my worst experience I was throwing up for about a half hour nonstop and every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Mario jumping and hitting the coin box over and over a la the original Super Mario Brothers. I learned my lesson from that one and reduced my intake.
I don't know if every time I trip off a brownie I have crazy dreams, but I am convinced that the brownies act in similar ways to the potion and cake in Alice in Wonderland where she ingests each one causing an imbalance in her size. Where the fuck am I going with this? Well when I'm stoned from this brownie, I certainly feel imbalanced, and more so like a screws loose. Picture this- every single person on the planet has a position- a role that takes many faces- a scientist who is also a father, a brother, a friend, an avid masturbator, etc. Well after I trip, I feel like I fell out of place in my position and I need to be knocked back in. Otherwise, I wake around in a daze, knowing something just not right. And of course, the only answer to put me back in my place is another brownie. No, not true. Some sort of an event- whether it be beer, punch in the face... anything refreshing like that. This has gone on too long....
*****
So the night I slept off my brownie experience was on Saturday and seeing it is Tuesday, that is lightyears in dream memory. However, to the best of my memory, I was being chased by two gigantic and beautiful women (think the ending to Dude, Where's My Car). Honestly, that's all I got. Was I caught? Maybe. Did they swallow me whole, or kick me around, use me as a back scratcher? The point is I'm going to write these down when they happen the night after so you aren't shafted like this example. Maybe that's why I wrote an extended intro.
I could analyze it now. Hmm, let's see. A guy being chased by a large beautiful woman- sounds like you have some great dreams. Gee, thanks doc. I'll try to keep on having them.
Thus it Begins. And You Ask, Why?
Because I've been on a pretty strong run of ridiculous dreams (when aren't they?)
But wait, what happens if you don't have a dream tonight or you forget that you do, Colin? Excellent question. Well, then I'll make it up. That'll add to the fun of what spills out of my unconscious while I'm unconscious vs when I am conscious.
Next question. Yes, the title. Well as creative as I believe I am, I took the easy route this time. Typing dream into iTunes gave me plenty of choices from song titles and lyrics. Nothing warms my heart than instrumental dub, and when Jackie Mittoo's Dream Organ began playing, I knew it was juuuuust right. It saddens me that I can't find a copy of his song on the internet, but I promise I'll get it up there so you can be serenaded both aurally and visually by this blog.
But wait, what happens if you don't have a dream tonight or you forget that you do, Colin? Excellent question. Well, then I'll make it up. That'll add to the fun of what spills out of my unconscious while I'm unconscious vs when I am conscious.
Next question. Yes, the title. Well as creative as I believe I am, I took the easy route this time. Typing dream into iTunes gave me plenty of choices from song titles and lyrics. Nothing warms my heart than instrumental dub, and when Jackie Mittoo's Dream Organ began playing, I knew it was juuuuust right. It saddens me that I can't find a copy of his song on the internet, but I promise I'll get it up there so you can be serenaded both aurally and visually by this blog.
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