Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Doesnt take a rocket scientist

..This dream is crazy....I must have left CNN on while I slept.

I'm on a big luxury boat, it's lovely, but ominous..i'm walking around exploring, and I see Kim Jong-il !..I think, this is crazy ..
I walk over to where he is and he looks at his watch..he's wearing a nice watch but it only has half a face....
he looks up and smiles at me ..
I feel scared but i think, we're on a boat what can he do really ? ( its a dream people..why a boat would be safe is beyond me )
He looks at me and smiles
Then slowly lifts a crossbow and takes aim..at me !

Monday, September 11, 2006

Recurring Dream Films

I have two favourite recurring dream films. Well OK, one is a TV thing...but you know what I mean.

Dead Of Night (1945)

Dead Of Night

Architect Walter Craig, seeking the possibility of some work at a country farmhouse, soon finds himself once again stuck in his recurring nightmare. Dreading the end of the dream that he knows is coming, he must first listen to all the assembled guests' own bizarre tales.
(from imdb)

This is a standard anthology horror film, little stories linked by a framing story - the recurring nightmare. One of the stories is quite famous - it's the one where the ventriloquist dummy comes to life. But the framing story is just excellent and really chilling, as the architect realises he is stuck in the loop of the recurring nightmare and even predicts things that will happen later in the film. Go seek it out.

Hammer House Of Horror: Rude Awakening (1980)

Rude Awakening

The real estate agent Norman Shenley (Denholm Elliott) hates his old wife Emily Shenley (Pat Heywood) and wants to divorce her to marry his secretary Lolly (Lucy Gutteridge). When a new client wants to sell an old and isolated mansion, Norman begins to have odd nightmares, and he becomes confused between reality and dream. When Norman awakes, a surprise waits for him.
(from imdb)

This really gives me the willies. Denholm Elliot is just awesome, and as his confusion and desperation rises, the whole thing is just frightening in the great way those seventies/eighties horrors do. The cycle of his recurring nightmare goes on and on with similar scenarios, but with people playing different roles each time. Track this down, I think there's a box set DVD somewhere with it in.

Now I look at these two films together, it looks like the older influenced the younger. Or maybe it's just coincidence.

(I have a recurring nightmare I've had since I was around 6. I hardly have it anymore, but I'm not ready to share it yet.)

Work anxiety dream

Although I dream quite a bit, they tend to be very fugitive once I awake. Here is a curious one that stands out in my mind though. This dream has happened a couple times. I dream that I am dreaming but my dream is cut short by my alarm clock. It is time to get up for work. I dream that I think it can't be time to get up for work because I'm too tired. I dream that I sit up in bed and look at my clock to confirm that yes, it is that unhappy time.

Then I actually get up, shut off my alarm (that I have dreamt is ringing), and actually stagger off to the shower..... On both occasions I have showered and have been half dressed before I realize it is something like 2:00 in the morning and I have become way dislocated in time. On both occasions, I'm sure the dream was related to some kind of work anxiety.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

This was so odd

I do not dream often , or i just never remember them ..
But last night..
I was staying at some really posh hotel..and i grabbed two towels to go take a shower..
I just wandered all over the hotel looking for a shower..
And it was that really spooky irritating slooooooow mooootion walk.
And yes i was fully clothed in my dream..
Thats it..just me walking all over a hotel looking for a shower..

OK - this one's for the books

I have in the past kept dream journals and I have really bizarre dreams. Last night's is up there with the uber-weird.

In the dream I am with a much younger partner (who is not Kate) and we go to a mixed gay/lesbian club called Extreme. Mostly lesbians in the club. I don't like the club, but my unnamed partner is very happy to join in. She makes a play for other women while I am in plain view of her.

My parents as well as my sister and a new boyfriend are also at the club. I go to them and we talk. They want to leave the club as they don't feel comfortable. So I go find my partner and she's with a group of young ladies and is clearly not interested in me. I say: "We're going." She says "Stop being a stromo," (which I took to mean a stroppy homo... no idea...). I respond with, "You and me? We're over." I walk off to find my family.

I ask my sister and her boyfriend to stop by the apartment I share with this partner. I tell them I am leaving her and I am packing up. They take me to the apartment, I walk in and there are these big steal coffins with pipes siphoning blood coming out of them. These tall women in black PVC are overseeing the operation. (Very menacing and very Silent Hill, even though I've only ever seen the trailer for the movie) I tell them I am here for my stuff. They say our bedroom has been turned into an operating theatre - I check and it is - and my stuff's in the kitchen. My sister and I go to the kitchen and I grab the essentials, I just want to leave and don't mind leaving stuff behind because stuff is replaceable. I throw a fit about a bottle of brandy I bought which the partner has drunk most of. As we leave, the partner arrives with a new conquest and demands to know what I am doing.

I wake up.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

3/9/06 Dream

I guess since giving up the sauce over the summer, it was inevitable I would have a dream like this...

I'm entertaining at home - some kind of house party. And in the kitchen I pour wine for everyone, and then, on automatic, test one to see how it is. Then I take a tray of glasses of wine back through to the guests.

Pretty boring dream. But I've spent the last few days confused as to whether it really happened, or was a dream. The sensation was extremely vivid. And I've had a feeling of disappointment in myself. That I let myself down. Even though...it only happened in a dream.

(for the record & those who don't already know, the whole giving-up-drinking thing was not a medical, religious, moral or AA based decision. And in truth it would make no difference if I started again...apart from the snoring).

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Childhood nightmare

I'm lucky I have rarely had nightmare's however one sticks firmly in my mid form when I was about 6 or 7 years old. It's one of the few times I have actually woken up screaming from a dream to find myself being comforted by someone.

It was set in the next village along from where I grew up, and I was alone, next to this river surrounded by lush pasture. Alone except for two dogs on the opposite bank of the river. Not ordinary dogs but ones which had huge fangs which were dripping drool and saliva everywhere. I shouted out for help. Then I remembered everyone else in the surrounding villages were dead, having caught rabies from these dogs. I have vague memories of the dogs jumping into the water and almost catching up with me as I ran. That's when I woke up, o maybe was woken up ny my mother.

It might explain why I still feel nervous around dogs. I think the dream was a result of those public information films they used to show at the time of people coming in to land on a deserted beach with a dog. The story behind the film being that they had been abroad, and had brought their dog back with them secretly without going into quarantine.

Metal and models

(Note: The boys from metal band Trivium kept popping up throughout this dream at the most inopportune moments, discussing what the best tracks for their forthcoming album would be.)

I have made it to the final five contestants in Britain's Next Top Model, and today's task consists in putting on a full face of make-up in five minutes. As soon as a faceless task-master shouts "Go!", we all head to the pile of make-up products in the corner. When I look around me, I realize that I am the only one who has picked a certain brand. I succumb to peer pressure, return to the make-up pile and choose what everybody else has chosen. I feel very uncomfortable, partly because I know that after this task we'll be asked to remove the make-up and do a close-up beauty shot au naturel. I am concerned that my skin is not up to the scrutiny of the camera.

Just as I am about to start putting my make-up on, the contestant who was voted out in the previous week comes crying into the room. She makes a beeline for me and, still sobbing, she goes on to tell me how unfair it was that she was booted out. I don't know if she implies that I deserved to be the one to go, but I just try to console her and tell her that I myself have no hope of making it to the final two, and that it's been a good experience that will serve us well in the future anyway.

Then, a fellow blogger I have never met in person (but of whom I have seen pictures) pops up. She has amazing teeth. I am hypnotized by them, they are so white. I compliment her on them, but on closer inspection it is not the teeth that are white, but the fabulous clenching inhibitor she is wearing. I am in awe of it: mine is nowhere near as flashy as this. Then I notice it really sticks out at the front, like the lip of that Indian chief who used to hang out with Sting. And I think to myself, "That can't be comfortable."

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Gangs and trains

A small group of gangsters is sitting on the sofas and enjoying drinks in a club. A party of young girls (in paper hats) and guys moves from their table to the dancefloor, but in doing so, they cross in front of the gangsters, which the latter take as a personal slight.

They decide to exact their revenge. The two main guys go to the bathroom to weapon up. Now I can see that the leader is French actor Vincent Cassell and I am the other guy. Vincent is looking for the weapons he had stashed in the bathroom a few days before, but he can't find them. However, there are two brass golf clubs hanging on the back of the door, so we arm ourselves with these. We separate.

Now I'm on my own, looking to smash in the head of people who have done nothing to me. I also realize I'm in the corridor of my school in Italy, which runs all around the perimeter of the building, around an internal courtyard. I don't have a beef with anybody, so I dive into another bathroom and splash some water on my face. All the toilets are blocked with small chunks of burned wood, and overflowing.

Next, I'm looking down two train tracks. A train is coming towards me, and I can see a black man on a stretcher as he falls from the train on to the tracks. Fortunately, the stretcher remains upright and the man is not injured (further). However, the stretcher has now become a runaway vehicle on the tracks. Another train approaches; it's on a collision course with the stretcher, but the latter somehow manages to pass underneath the train carriage. Then a man comes out of his car and stops the stretcher.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

strange places

well here is a long one, almost epic. very confused.
somewhat nightmarish as it almost involved me going to nottingham.

i am with some friends, we are visiting another friend. it seems the friend we are visiting is the black sheep of the gang, the rogue who is always getting into trouble. he has various letters, newspaper clippings and what not on the walls. they all tell of his misadventures, his rejections, his excuses etc. they make for interesting reading.
somewhere along the line we all decide to go and visit someone in nottingham but first we are going to go somewhere else. we all pile into a car that one of the gang has just gotten. it is no more than a banger, with the seats more like those overly comfy armchairs you have that are all sag. we drive to get something to eat. we park and pile out.
we come back the car is now trapped in a square all the exits from this rather plush posh square are blocked, ours is the only vehcile there.
only there is an escape route if you drive over the pavement.
it seems the group has grown and we all can't fit in the car.
i stay behind they are going to come back with a bigger car.
i am thinkingi i will catch a train to nottingham, i have a slip of paper that tells me it is only £49.
while we were eating i was shown a camera we called it a lomo camera (it wasn't but hey that is dreams for you), i now seem to have the camera. i am using it to take photos. i start wandeirng out of the square and into a desolate run down area of the city, but it is like a ghost town lots of buildings, large and close together, all seemingly still in perfect nick, a few windows missing here and there. no one around. i turn a corner and here is a large empy space (a lot) bordered by two large white buildings. the shadowa are greaat. i set up a tripod. i start taking photos. the area i am in is all wet and muddy. i hear a voice. i turn and see a black man starign out the windon he has a gun in his hands. i put my palms out and shrug. i start to get my tripod and movie. more blackmen are coming out of the building. one of them reminds me of yaphet koto.
i try to run.
they catch up with me.
it turns out that i know one of their friends.
the guns they have in their hands are all toys.
i take some photos and chat to them all.

wake up.

iDream of singing and songs

Is it a cop-out to post a dream I had three weeks ago and that has already been posted on my blog? I so rarely remember my dreams, so I'm going to use this one as my introductory post. And I promise not to cop out again. Sorry. Thanks.

I sometimes have some weird dreams, just like many people do, I suppose, but it's rare that I make any special effort to remember them. And to be honest, I haven't had any worthwhile ones for some time. But the one from this morning (8 August 2006) was funny. I woke up and wrote it down in detail, because I knew it was fading fast. Here it is.

I'm in a classroom, in which people are singing and performing songs one at a time for their peers. Some guy gets up to do "Peggy Sue Got Married" by Buddy Holly... on the clarinet... singing at the same time. It's an interrupted performance at best, and the lyrics are all wrong, so I say, "Dude, let me help you out," and I go up to sing with him. The classroom contains several people who know me (1), and I hear one guy say, "Can you believe the balls on this guy?" (2), meaning me.

So I get to the front of the class, and I pick up the lyric sheet (even though I know it's wrong), and I say, "Okay, give me the intro." He does, and I start singing, keeping half an eye on his lyric sheet. Fortunately I know the lyrics, so I don't have to rely on his "interpretation". (3)

Before long, I turn the page to continue singing, and there are no longer any song words; instead, there is a comic strip (4) set in a jungle. (5) A bunch of guys with beards are fishing from a boat. They catch some big spiky-toothed fish and cook them over a camp fire.

I say to the guy, "Stop, stop, stop. What's going on here? Firstly, the lyrics aren't right, man." And he (he's Dutch) says, "It doesn't matter what words I sing, as long as it sounds right."

"But, dude," I say, "this is a really really really famous song and the words are really really really badly wrong. People will know. And what's with this comic strip? Who are these people?" I look at their faces again; there's not a bespectacled one among them, so clearly it's nothing to do with Buddy Holly.

He points to one of them and says, "That's Tonky" -- I'm perplexed now -- and he points to another and says, "And that's Beckmann," and I'm like ?!?. We get to the end of the comic strip, and it says in the final panel something like "This is the true story of how 'Jungle River Trip' was written." Now everything falls into place. I turn to the guy and I say, "Dude, this is The Monkees, (6) not Buddy Holly," and he replies, "Oh yeah, The Monkees. That's who I meant."

1. People with whom I've never actually shared a class, though.
2. Clearly this is from my most recent Lebanon post.
3. The only bit of his words that I remember is: "Red red rose that's been in almost all the songs", instead of "You recall a girl that's been in nearly every song".
4. In Italy I've been reading almost nothing but comic books. More on that later...
5. Bizarrely, just after typing this bit, I had an e-mail from eBay, saying, "I'm writing to you from the depths of the jungle." Seriously.
6. I have no idea whether The Monkees ever wrote such a song, or went to the jungle, or counted Tonky and Beckmann among their numbers, but I doubt it.


i seem to dream only in snippets, or more likely that is all i remember.

two recent ones.
i am looking at the most amazing train kit you have ever seen. it is huge, it is amazingly detailed but it is a like a flash gordon meets frtiz lang - does tokyo type cityscape. with the train lines going all over the place and at different heights. you can see people, you can see cars, look through windows into offices etc. the trians whizz by. it is awesome.
but to one end of one of the trcks there is a guy, in unform, i think he is black and bald is crishing the trianlines with his hands, the bits floating down to the ground like polystrene cup pieces. once he has broken a chunk of the line he replaces it with a much cruder bridge type thing. above where the trains will run is a cuddly toy marching band. they look absurdly out of place, so so retro in this gleaming shining future and of course they are not even close to scale.

the second snippet is even more of a fragment. i am climing up some stairs, almost tiptoe like. i can see the landing light on. i know i am going to meet someone. it turns out i am to meet a sexual sensual hattie jaques who appears at the top of the staris in a black flmsey dressing gown, that leaves nothing to the imagination. but my eyes are drawn to her shiny spikey high high heels.

like i say small glmpses of what the dreams were.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Bible Belt dreams

I rarely dream..
But once I was in bed , listening to the radio..and waiting to fall asleep..
the radio was playing some southern preacher, hollering about the end of times..crying and talking about how angels were going to blow the horns and the rapture was gonna take place...
It was very fire and brimstone..and extremely frightening
I was all drowsy and I can remember that I couldnt open my eyes..no matter how hard I tried.
I tried to turn off the radio..but I couldnt see the dials ( cause I couldnt open my eyes)
And I fumbled and twisted..then finally I pulled the cord out of the wall..

The radio show STILL played!!

I HEARD angels singing and blowing trumpets ..

And then I woke up!...thank god it was a dream..
But the radio was still playing ..
the good reverend telling me and all other sinners how we were going to hell.