i am in the bedroom i had when i was a teenager. i am kneeling down and trying to choose the next lp to put on. i am alone, but not for long. a succession of people come into the room, as each one comes in and settles down on the spare bed i make some sort of comment along the lines of “as i live and breathe”. some of these people are friends, some are characters from entertainments that i have liked, and some are people i no longer know.
when it has all stopped and people have introduced themselves one of the girls gets around to telling us that she has a problem with someone she knows. we hatch a plan to impersonate policemen to put the frighteners on the miscreant.
dressed as policemen we are out in the street going towards the home of the person in question. it looks as if it has been filmed on a handheld video camera and posted on youtube.
this then switches to a glossy csi type look as the view is now of a large messy cluttered room/house. there are piles and piles of things. there is so much stuff it is hard to make out what should be there and what not should be there, where one thing ends and another thing starts. among the chaos are a number of people searching and clearing – the two acts seem to go hand in hand. it seems an impossible task.
they are looking for evidence that is important in an on going court case.
we are looking down on what they are doing. next door we can see the court in session.
now the view is among them. they are talking about what they are looking for and how hard it is going to be to get it to the attorneys, and how hard it is going to be for the attorneys to get to them. they start pushing things to make space, to make walkways. they move a large sideboard, some drawers and a draw are missing from it, and there is a lot of bric-a-brac in it. they can now clamber over this, into a new space.
it is a dark and moody scene, low lights and long shadows.
the light changes to sunny bright and clear. another friend has turned up and wants the return of a bag he leant me a long time back. i can remember where it is but i am pretty sure that i can’t get to it because of the junk that is in the way.
the place has changed it is now a large place with more rooms than enough. i tell my friend to wait while i go get the bag. i rush through the building/mansion. i arrive at the room i believe the bag to be in and i enter.
it is the right room, but not how i expect to see it. the pale wooden floor is clear, the cream walls glow delicately from the clear sun coming into the room. it is neat, clear and tidy. i splutter, i stutter and then i gasp. there is someone in the room just putting the last of the stuff away. they smile at me, i ask them about the bag. they point to cupboard. i go to it. open it, half expecting to be buried under a pile of junk, what i get is a neat rack of bags. i easily pull the bag i need from the rack.
the voice behind me is telling me that they took the liberty of clearing up.
i thank them.
(dream ends)
faker (snippet)
the character is out taking photos. stumbles on an interesting building, it looks like a brutalist version of a castle set in the middle of a street of shops. he looks for an entrance and an idea of what the building is for. he can see the name “mel savage” on the walls and above the very large doors. it seems to be a mix of youth/social club and church. once inside he is greeted with very dark wood floor, doors and panelled walls, the lights are very low. there are a few rugs on the floor. there is a reception desk but no one at it. the room is very small considering the size of the building. there is a noise from below, he turns and sees an ornate set of banisters that lead downstairs. slowly and carefully he takes the stairs down.
at the bottom he can see a young boy at a desk, he asks who is in charge.
the boy leads him to an office where a young man is seated at a desk dealing with a phone call.
he waits for the call to finish. the call goes on, the man has to move his chair to across to a filing cabinet to get something, he is wearing a t-shirt of black and red hoops, his jeans are baggy and artistically ripped, but such that large patches of flesh are exposed.
the photographer thinks this is odd.
(the rest of the dream is hazy in terms of what happens and the order it goes in. the photographer meets mel to ask if he can take photos of the building, he is at a service given by mel, there is a feeling of something being totally wrong about what is going on, there is a confrontation with mel, it is all in a gloomy half light of horror movies that have no budget to show the sfx in.)
(dream ends)
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
stalk and slash
this is the closest i think i have come to a nightmare in years. strangely (or perhaps not) it is pretty much a stalk and slash horror movie. the dream seems to be disjointed as if trying to make it an art house horror.
she is confronted by a large steroid buffed up madman. he is wearing a grey t-shirt and a checked white shirt over that. his skin has a stretched waxy look to it. he is telling her to run, to get in her car and go, that he will chase her, that he will give her and her child a head start, but then he is coming for her. he throws her the car keys. he writes down his name so she can tell the cops who he is (tony styles/smiles/stevie it is something like that), he gives her the pen, he tells her it is not poisoned.
she runs.
time jump. the killer is facing a man and he is telling him what is going to happen that he will not be able to save his friends, but the killer will give him a chance, though he doubts it will be taken. the man is tied to a chair; he is looking around for his friends. he is gagged, in a trailer, tied to a chair. his eyes bulge with fear and there is spittle all around the gag.
time jump. the man is outside the trailer on the grass he is unconscious, his leg is chained to the trailer so he can’t run if he wakes. his hand is lying on the foot of his male friend. the man is looking up at the night sky; his friend is lying on his front. they both seem to be stirring. they whisper to each other to see if they are ok, if they know what is happening. they are, they don’t, they just know the girl is gone and they are in a shit load of trouble. they hear the killer approach and they both pretend to be asleep.
time jump. back inside the trailer both the men are being spoken to be the killer he is telling them the only way to stop him is to kill him, but it might mean one of them dying and it means that they will become killers too. compared to the killer both the men are weedy emo kiddies. they are scared, they know they have to do something but neither of them is brave enough. the killer tries to goad them. he goes mad, he offers them weapons, he attacks them, and he offers them bigger weapons from sticks, to knives to swords. they hold each in odd ways it is the first time they have held such things for violence. the killer throws things, he pulls out a huge great big claw weapon to go after the men.
time jump. outside the trailer are a couple of cars, there are a few rickety buildings nearby (somewhere to buy some food, somewhere to rent a trailer), a little beige and cream car pulls up and parks near the cars. a little old woman jumps out of the car (she looks for all the world like the old ladies in a gary larson cartoon). she is making lots of noise and she is talking angrily at her husband (never seen) and she makes her way over to the shacks.
time jump. the men and the girl are driving along a mountain / hill road. windows open, wind in their hair. the men in front, the woman in the back but she is leaning forward to look out the front window, all their faces are in a line. they are chatting animatedly about what they are going to do with their free time. they have just finished a big show. they are bitching about the people they work with, but all of them are looking elated to be on the road. there is a little bump in the road. that gets the male passenger bitching about the car, the driver tells him to shut up as he loves his car, he cares for his car.
as they drive along the mountain/hill road they see a group of body builder types moving things from a van. they are all uniformly dressed, jeans and a leather waistcoat. they then notice one of them is using his arms to walk with, as if pushing a wheelchair, but there is no chair, his legs are being used to hold the large bundle. he walks by them and looks at them; it is a fleeting and sad look.
he throws the bundle down to a lower a level, there another muscled man catches it and repositions it.
they are building something. it is not clear what.
there is just a feeling of foreboding.
war
a bizarre war story. a solo character is walking through a victorian housing estate. it is much bigger and denser than any estate that ever existed but it is obvious what it is. he is sticking to the shadows; he is trying to get somewhere to meet up with his comrades. there is an internal dialogue going on describing the war that is going on. it appears to be between man and machines. it has been going on for a very long time but it seems to be concentrated on one block of the estate and it takes place in the garden area on a very traditional battle-line to battle-line type way.
he is talking about how they have collaborators in the machines.
but he is lost on the estate.
a wrong turning has taken him to a different part, somewhere he has never been before, and the door he has gone through seems to have led him to a dead end, a large walled space with a playing green and a tree. he is going to explore it.
something alerts him and he knows he is being watched he tries to escape, he can’t. he can hear the machine coming for him. he runs. he is backed into a corner, out of the darkness it comes the machine rumbles up to him, it is a little mini tank that is something that looks like it could have been the offspring of tanks from the first and second world wars and a childs pedal car. it is no higher than his knee. the gun points at him. no matter how hard he dodges the gun keeps him in sight. finally he ends up in the corner.
“kill me then” he says. a female voice says i don’t want to kill you i want to help you escape, but to escape you need to run and forget. the voice tells him he needs to repeat a special phrase (something that had a couple of colours and numbers in it) several times while he ran. if he did this he would be free of the war.
the machine disappears and he starts to run down the block (which now looks remarkably like part of the housing estate i used to live on, this one was built in the 60s) he starts to say the phrase, he notices that from a tree there is a bolt of electric blue cloth is spills out into a large pool that almost covers all the green. he runs to it and he can see that there are words stitched into the cloth. they give him hope. he notices that it has all gone quiet. it is light. he sees movement. he ducks for cover and then sees if he can follow the movement, he walks around a group of sheds, his feet gently walking on the grass there is no one: just empty street.
there is a cool breeze.
there is a voice over thing that makes it all feel like this was an episode of a dodgy tv show.
not sure if these are supposed to be connected or not.
she is confronted by a large steroid buffed up madman. he is wearing a grey t-shirt and a checked white shirt over that. his skin has a stretched waxy look to it. he is telling her to run, to get in her car and go, that he will chase her, that he will give her and her child a head start, but then he is coming for her. he throws her the car keys. he writes down his name so she can tell the cops who he is (tony styles/smiles/stevie it is something like that), he gives her the pen, he tells her it is not poisoned.
she runs.
time jump. the killer is facing a man and he is telling him what is going to happen that he will not be able to save his friends, but the killer will give him a chance, though he doubts it will be taken. the man is tied to a chair; he is looking around for his friends. he is gagged, in a trailer, tied to a chair. his eyes bulge with fear and there is spittle all around the gag.
time jump. the man is outside the trailer on the grass he is unconscious, his leg is chained to the trailer so he can’t run if he wakes. his hand is lying on the foot of his male friend. the man is looking up at the night sky; his friend is lying on his front. they both seem to be stirring. they whisper to each other to see if they are ok, if they know what is happening. they are, they don’t, they just know the girl is gone and they are in a shit load of trouble. they hear the killer approach and they both pretend to be asleep.
time jump. back inside the trailer both the men are being spoken to be the killer he is telling them the only way to stop him is to kill him, but it might mean one of them dying and it means that they will become killers too. compared to the killer both the men are weedy emo kiddies. they are scared, they know they have to do something but neither of them is brave enough. the killer tries to goad them. he goes mad, he offers them weapons, he attacks them, and he offers them bigger weapons from sticks, to knives to swords. they hold each in odd ways it is the first time they have held such things for violence. the killer throws things, he pulls out a huge great big claw weapon to go after the men.
time jump. outside the trailer are a couple of cars, there are a few rickety buildings nearby (somewhere to buy some food, somewhere to rent a trailer), a little beige and cream car pulls up and parks near the cars. a little old woman jumps out of the car (she looks for all the world like the old ladies in a gary larson cartoon). she is making lots of noise and she is talking angrily at her husband (never seen) and she makes her way over to the shacks.
time jump. the men and the girl are driving along a mountain / hill road. windows open, wind in their hair. the men in front, the woman in the back but she is leaning forward to look out the front window, all their faces are in a line. they are chatting animatedly about what they are going to do with their free time. they have just finished a big show. they are bitching about the people they work with, but all of them are looking elated to be on the road. there is a little bump in the road. that gets the male passenger bitching about the car, the driver tells him to shut up as he loves his car, he cares for his car.
as they drive along the mountain/hill road they see a group of body builder types moving things from a van. they are all uniformly dressed, jeans and a leather waistcoat. they then notice one of them is using his arms to walk with, as if pushing a wheelchair, but there is no chair, his legs are being used to hold the large bundle. he walks by them and looks at them; it is a fleeting and sad look.
he throws the bundle down to a lower a level, there another muscled man catches it and repositions it.
they are building something. it is not clear what.
there is just a feeling of foreboding.
war
a bizarre war story. a solo character is walking through a victorian housing estate. it is much bigger and denser than any estate that ever existed but it is obvious what it is. he is sticking to the shadows; he is trying to get somewhere to meet up with his comrades. there is an internal dialogue going on describing the war that is going on. it appears to be between man and machines. it has been going on for a very long time but it seems to be concentrated on one block of the estate and it takes place in the garden area on a very traditional battle-line to battle-line type way.
he is talking about how they have collaborators in the machines.
but he is lost on the estate.
a wrong turning has taken him to a different part, somewhere he has never been before, and the door he has gone through seems to have led him to a dead end, a large walled space with a playing green and a tree. he is going to explore it.
something alerts him and he knows he is being watched he tries to escape, he can’t. he can hear the machine coming for him. he runs. he is backed into a corner, out of the darkness it comes the machine rumbles up to him, it is a little mini tank that is something that looks like it could have been the offspring of tanks from the first and second world wars and a childs pedal car. it is no higher than his knee. the gun points at him. no matter how hard he dodges the gun keeps him in sight. finally he ends up in the corner.
“kill me then” he says. a female voice says i don’t want to kill you i want to help you escape, but to escape you need to run and forget. the voice tells him he needs to repeat a special phrase (something that had a couple of colours and numbers in it) several times while he ran. if he did this he would be free of the war.
the machine disappears and he starts to run down the block (which now looks remarkably like part of the housing estate i used to live on, this one was built in the 60s) he starts to say the phrase, he notices that from a tree there is a bolt of electric blue cloth is spills out into a large pool that almost covers all the green. he runs to it and he can see that there are words stitched into the cloth. they give him hope. he notices that it has all gone quiet. it is light. he sees movement. he ducks for cover and then sees if he can follow the movement, he walks around a group of sheds, his feet gently walking on the grass there is no one: just empty street.
there is a cool breeze.
there is a voice over thing that makes it all feel like this was an episode of a dodgy tv show.
not sure if these are supposed to be connected or not.
Friday, November 28, 2008
dreaming
There's something moving in my bedroom. It is always just out of sight; behind a pile of folders, under the shelves, rustling papers, disturbing clothes. It worries me, I'm fretful and want to know what's there, but don't want to get any closer.
After some while (it's not a fast mover whatever it is), I catch a glimpse of something smooth, black, patterned. Scales or carapace I can't quite tell. It concerns me, I know this isn't good.
At this point I wake up to turn on the light and find out that I never turned it off. I reach for the torch just in case.....
After some while (it's not a fast mover whatever it is), I catch a glimpse of something smooth, black, patterned. Scales or carapace I can't quite tell. It concerns me, I know this isn't good.
At this point I wake up to turn on the light and find out that I never turned it off. I reach for the torch just in case.....
Saturday, November 15, 2008
tv license
i go to visit a friend. he is in a new place. he shows me into a room that is as big as a hall. i sit on the floor and within a minute or two i have scared away some of his friends. i start walking around the walls he has been decorating them in posters, they look like the posters he has managed to peel off advertising hoardings, but they are all single colours with detailed pencilling on them of images of hp lovecraft, william s burroughs and cthulhu images. over each poster there are some sort of plastic covering that looks like it can be pulled tight to protect them. i suggest it looks better if he leaves them loose so that it has a giger alien feel about it. he agrees. we keep walking around the room/hall and come to part of it that looks like a newspaper vendor stall he steps into it. there are piles of old british comics all over it. he reminds me i was going to buy some of them. i told him i wished i had the money.
i start telling him a story (i am not sure if i am telling himself i have read in the news, i have been told myself, i have read or i have made up as i tell the story there is a feeling that i believe it). it is about an alien invasion that failed. it has something to do with invisible alien women following humans. some of the humans realise what is going on and they work out a way to kill the aliens in such a manner that the alien high command decides that earth is too dangerous place to come. the plan has something to do with pink as a colour. he doesn’t want to hear the entire story because he has to go and do something. so i write some of the story down. so i don’t forget it and i can let him read it.
we seem to be in a different room, not sure how the transition occurs. i am now watching him lining up lots of little soldiers on the floor and he is preparing to knock them down. he is chanting something while he does this and it is being videoed for you tube. i suggest that he could make a much bigger version and make it an epic video for the site. he smiles at the idea and seems very happy at.
then
i am at work. i am back. it feels odd. i seem to be there in time for something important. i am not sure what it is i am back for; no one is quite explaining it. i am walking around trying to work out what i need to do. it is raining outside. so i go out with my camera. the slick steps and streets are a dreamy version of whitehall merging into carlton terrace. i am standing in a doorway trying to take photos of the falling rain trying to catch it in the streetlights. i am using a large heavy lens, i know i am not going to get good results with it, but i need to try. after shooting off a load of images i give up. i start packing up. all of a sudden there is a little black labrador dog, it is squat and cartoony he bounds up to me giving me a fright, as i am startled the dog yelps a little and as it does that it seems to distort fur standing on end and legs shooting out, as if a cartoon electric charge has been fired through it.
the dog’s owner calls the dog over and apologises for it. i say there was nothing to worry about. the owner looks very pretty, she is pushing a pram. she looks like she has stepped out of the 1940s. i go back to putting my camera away, the dog jumps up at me again. the owner and i giggle. dog goes back to the owner and they go off. i return to packing up my camera bag. for some reason i end up putting it in a large puddle. i have a fear that the bag is not waterproof. i don’t know.
i never find out.
(dreams end)
i start telling him a story (i am not sure if i am telling himself i have read in the news, i have been told myself, i have read or i have made up as i tell the story there is a feeling that i believe it). it is about an alien invasion that failed. it has something to do with invisible alien women following humans. some of the humans realise what is going on and they work out a way to kill the aliens in such a manner that the alien high command decides that earth is too dangerous place to come. the plan has something to do with pink as a colour. he doesn’t want to hear the entire story because he has to go and do something. so i write some of the story down. so i don’t forget it and i can let him read it.
we seem to be in a different room, not sure how the transition occurs. i am now watching him lining up lots of little soldiers on the floor and he is preparing to knock them down. he is chanting something while he does this and it is being videoed for you tube. i suggest that he could make a much bigger version and make it an epic video for the site. he smiles at the idea and seems very happy at.
then
i am at work. i am back. it feels odd. i seem to be there in time for something important. i am not sure what it is i am back for; no one is quite explaining it. i am walking around trying to work out what i need to do. it is raining outside. so i go out with my camera. the slick steps and streets are a dreamy version of whitehall merging into carlton terrace. i am standing in a doorway trying to take photos of the falling rain trying to catch it in the streetlights. i am using a large heavy lens, i know i am not going to get good results with it, but i need to try. after shooting off a load of images i give up. i start packing up. all of a sudden there is a little black labrador dog, it is squat and cartoony he bounds up to me giving me a fright, as i am startled the dog yelps a little and as it does that it seems to distort fur standing on end and legs shooting out, as if a cartoon electric charge has been fired through it.
the dog’s owner calls the dog over and apologises for it. i say there was nothing to worry about. the owner looks very pretty, she is pushing a pram. she looks like she has stepped out of the 1940s. i go back to putting my camera away, the dog jumps up at me again. the owner and i giggle. dog goes back to the owner and they go off. i return to packing up my camera bag. for some reason i end up putting it in a large puddle. i have a fear that the bag is not waterproof. i don’t know.
i never find out.
(dreams end)
Thursday, October 30, 2008
2/8/08 Dream
I visit a house full of Porn Stars.
Once I'm let in, I start showing them a set of their 'nudie' playing cards.
Then I get out an identical set of cards, but these I had created with all the girls fully clothed.
I make them feel ashamed.
And then I wake up.
01/8/08 Dream
Rose and Matt (in real life: customers who I used to serve in the bookshop) have just bought 2 classic cars, both Triumph Dolomite Sprints. But one of these is, inexplicably, a 3-wheeler. And the other...has just 2 wheels, with metal struts that drag along the ground either side to keep it upright.
They ask me which one I should keep, but both are badly made with wood underneath the body/fuselage. I don't know how to tell them that they are both shit.
And then I wake up.
29/7/08 Dream
I'm at some kind of boot camp, learning to be a teacher. We all are in a room taking it in turns to go up to the front and present to a group of schoolchildren.
At one point, the team leader tells me to go out and fetch a sports celebrity from the car park, as they're going to speak to 'the kids'. I find him and lead him back to the classroom. This man may, or may not, be Colin Jackson.
When we get there, Gary Lineker is already there. He is very serious.
And then I wake up.
28/7/08 Dream
I find a new relationship with a beautiful black girl with 3 or 4 kids - everything is bliss as we roll around a big white mattress on the floor where we sleep. She's stunning and has an ex-boyfriend who looks just like the bloke from BBC's Attachments. We worry together about what I'm going to tell my existing family, how they'll react to this.
And then I wake up.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
spy / thriller
two dreams or two different parts of the same dream, i am not sure. both are narratives and both are spy/thriller style (guess i am excited by the new bond movie and “spooks” being back on the bbc).
in one there is a conversation going on about the fraudulent buying and selling of diamonds, or a diamond like substance. this conversation is taking place between the nefarious female mastermind and her advisor. it is almost like they are doing this in voiceover, as they speak there are lots of images of what they are trying to do.
the buying part has been accomplished, seemingly all done through facebook. now some of the diamonds have been sold on at a higher price to dummy companies owned by the mastermind. her advisor is telling her she should get rid of all the diamonds as they have now created a new high market price for them.
it is as if they have bought up all the available diamonds. they are selling a few to prevent people being suspicious and to aid moving some of the diamonds around to a new location.
the direction of the conversation is almost as if the advisor doesn’t know what the mastermind is up to, that he thinks she is just a ruthless trader while we know that she is the head of a dangerous criminal/spy organisation.
the diamonds she now owns are not to be used for profit they are part of a plan to tap into a top-secret tunnel/cable and from this steal/siphon something off. there is an image of a large diamond claw burrowing through the earth and grasping the tunnel/cable.
other dream/part
a crooked sportsman has decided to go to court to accept his punishment. he had done something that got his team killed just after their greatest triumph (there is a suggestion that this was a rigged victory). he is crooked not because he took some bribes or threw a game, but because he has a skill that he uses to help villains when they need to break into places (not sure if this is a computing skill or an engineering skill).
he had been very useful in the past to crooks; he stopped being as useful once his sporting career took off. it feels as if the victory/tragedy was a message “we give and we can take away, you have to work for us” type thing. because of the deaths he has decided to do the honourable thing.
he is in court. his lawyer (has a george clooney air about him) is checking that he wants to go through with this, he does, lawyer confirms that there is plenty of protection for him.
the court is full, the colours are bright and breezy and one wall is just a big window.
not long into the court session starting there is a bit of a gurgle chunk noise from the overhead fans. this gets worse. then suddenly ice cubes start pouring from the fan (they are those cone like ice cubes you tend to get in hotel bars, and in the dream they seem to come in waves of drink colours, i remember the cola shaded ones) at this point the lawyer shouts out “fire, fire everyone leave, evacuate”.
he tells his client to stay put, lawyer pulls a gun from his coat and stands ready to protect the client. they move over to where the fan is, but it is not a ceiling fan as such more a rotating grill that at certain points opens up to a hole to allow the ice cubes in. they can see that there are people, dressed in gold lame protection suits, up there trying to deal with the emergency.
as soon as the court if clear a number of emergency response uniforms walk in, there are a couple of fireman, a couple of policemen, a paramedic and two guys with a gurney. the vantage point that we watch them enter is from high up in the corner of the court. as they enter they spread out, effectively blocking the approaches to the door, we can tell there is something not right about them.
the lawyer turns to his client and tells him that they have to leave. he says not before checking on the people in the fan. there is confusion. client points to one of the firemen and says we need to get up there; all he gets is an amused look. no one seems to want to go up and check. he then says to one of them to give him a boost up there and he will look. same kind of expression. eventually a bald, short, young oriental in a black vest, brings him a number of chairs (they are the ones that were in all mums kitchens, wooden legs slightly curving out at the floor, oval rings for the back rest and a plastic seat covering in this case the wood was dull yellow going cream and the plastic was a faded pink), he puts two of them together, front to front, and then puts the third on top of them, making a little pyramid that will be high enough for the client to get to the top to peer into the fan tunnel.
when he touches the bodies they appear to be lifeless.
he jumps down. is surrounded and then is knocked out.
the client wakes up in a large bed in a dimly lit room, he can see light and hear noise through a slight gap in the very heavy curtain, he gets up and goes through. there appears to be a party/gathering going on. lots of people, a number of couples necking and petting. he can see the city skyline very close and he realises he is on a roof in the middle of the city.
the client sees his lawyer (in plaid shorts on a recliner with a drink in his hand) and wanders over to him with "a what is going on" look on his face. he begins to recognise the faces of the emergency response team (all done in that flashback style that is so popular in movies at the moment).
a young woman offers him a drink, he accepts. there is a screen nearby talking about his death in a courtroom fire and a lengthy replay of his team’s great victory. the woman is talking over it, saying that they had won once before they were going to win again, realises that she has fluffed her lines and then repeats “that they had won the only time they were going to and now would be sports greatest heroes”.
the lawyer claps him on his back and tells him this was the only way they could get him back.
(dream ends)
in one there is a conversation going on about the fraudulent buying and selling of diamonds, or a diamond like substance. this conversation is taking place between the nefarious female mastermind and her advisor. it is almost like they are doing this in voiceover, as they speak there are lots of images of what they are trying to do.
the buying part has been accomplished, seemingly all done through facebook. now some of the diamonds have been sold on at a higher price to dummy companies owned by the mastermind. her advisor is telling her she should get rid of all the diamonds as they have now created a new high market price for them.
it is as if they have bought up all the available diamonds. they are selling a few to prevent people being suspicious and to aid moving some of the diamonds around to a new location.
the direction of the conversation is almost as if the advisor doesn’t know what the mastermind is up to, that he thinks she is just a ruthless trader while we know that she is the head of a dangerous criminal/spy organisation.
the diamonds she now owns are not to be used for profit they are part of a plan to tap into a top-secret tunnel/cable and from this steal/siphon something off. there is an image of a large diamond claw burrowing through the earth and grasping the tunnel/cable.
other dream/part
a crooked sportsman has decided to go to court to accept his punishment. he had done something that got his team killed just after their greatest triumph (there is a suggestion that this was a rigged victory). he is crooked not because he took some bribes or threw a game, but because he has a skill that he uses to help villains when they need to break into places (not sure if this is a computing skill or an engineering skill).
he had been very useful in the past to crooks; he stopped being as useful once his sporting career took off. it feels as if the victory/tragedy was a message “we give and we can take away, you have to work for us” type thing. because of the deaths he has decided to do the honourable thing.
he is in court. his lawyer (has a george clooney air about him) is checking that he wants to go through with this, he does, lawyer confirms that there is plenty of protection for him.
the court is full, the colours are bright and breezy and one wall is just a big window.
not long into the court session starting there is a bit of a gurgle chunk noise from the overhead fans. this gets worse. then suddenly ice cubes start pouring from the fan (they are those cone like ice cubes you tend to get in hotel bars, and in the dream they seem to come in waves of drink colours, i remember the cola shaded ones) at this point the lawyer shouts out “fire, fire everyone leave, evacuate”.
he tells his client to stay put, lawyer pulls a gun from his coat and stands ready to protect the client. they move over to where the fan is, but it is not a ceiling fan as such more a rotating grill that at certain points opens up to a hole to allow the ice cubes in. they can see that there are people, dressed in gold lame protection suits, up there trying to deal with the emergency.
as soon as the court if clear a number of emergency response uniforms walk in, there are a couple of fireman, a couple of policemen, a paramedic and two guys with a gurney. the vantage point that we watch them enter is from high up in the corner of the court. as they enter they spread out, effectively blocking the approaches to the door, we can tell there is something not right about them.
the lawyer turns to his client and tells him that they have to leave. he says not before checking on the people in the fan. there is confusion. client points to one of the firemen and says we need to get up there; all he gets is an amused look. no one seems to want to go up and check. he then says to one of them to give him a boost up there and he will look. same kind of expression. eventually a bald, short, young oriental in a black vest, brings him a number of chairs (they are the ones that were in all mums kitchens, wooden legs slightly curving out at the floor, oval rings for the back rest and a plastic seat covering in this case the wood was dull yellow going cream and the plastic was a faded pink), he puts two of them together, front to front, and then puts the third on top of them, making a little pyramid that will be high enough for the client to get to the top to peer into the fan tunnel.
when he touches the bodies they appear to be lifeless.
he jumps down. is surrounded and then is knocked out.
the client wakes up in a large bed in a dimly lit room, he can see light and hear noise through a slight gap in the very heavy curtain, he gets up and goes through. there appears to be a party/gathering going on. lots of people, a number of couples necking and petting. he can see the city skyline very close and he realises he is on a roof in the middle of the city.
the client sees his lawyer (in plaid shorts on a recliner with a drink in his hand) and wanders over to him with "a what is going on" look on his face. he begins to recognise the faces of the emergency response team (all done in that flashback style that is so popular in movies at the moment).
a young woman offers him a drink, he accepts. there is a screen nearby talking about his death in a courtroom fire and a lengthy replay of his team’s great victory. the woman is talking over it, saying that they had won once before they were going to win again, realises that she has fluffed her lines and then repeats “that they had won the only time they were going to and now would be sports greatest heroes”.
the lawyer claps him on his back and tells him this was the only way they could get him back.
(dream ends)
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
rehearsal
this takes place in a large industrial space, very rock/pop video territory. there are a group of us there. we are dotted about it, all waiting for something. we are all towards the back of the space. in front of the space, there seems to be another large warehouse space, it looks partly decayed, as if it had stopped working in the middle of job and there is still lots of bits and pieces all left about the place. the light there is a washed out sunlight, not quite dark, not quite light. it appears to be open the elements, while the industrial space we are in is enclosed.
there is a lot of talk, a lot of hubbub, but little movement.
someone arrives. they want to change the layout, they want to move things around. i ask why. no good answer. although there seems to be some agreement that the moves are going to take place no one is moving, it is business as normal.
(in the dream i have the impression that some things occur now, but i can’t remember them)
for some reason i move out of the industrial space into the other space and start walking around. there are books all over the ground, i walk carefully among them, looking at the titles. the ground is not level, rising and falling, with bumps and holes in the ground. i have to walk across a little bridge, but i still seem to be inside this warehouse workspace.
i come closer to a shack, there seem to be people in there. we do not acknowledge each other.
i see a large hardcover on the ground. it has a bright gaudy cover with yellow bands on white. it is a new james bond book. i pick it up. the dust jacket has a part of it ripped out. the praise blurb at the back is from barbara allen, the picture is of a mature woman with very white hair.
i carry the book off. there is a thought in my head that this will be worth a lot in the future.
(dream ends)
there is a lot of talk, a lot of hubbub, but little movement.
someone arrives. they want to change the layout, they want to move things around. i ask why. no good answer. although there seems to be some agreement that the moves are going to take place no one is moving, it is business as normal.
(in the dream i have the impression that some things occur now, but i can’t remember them)
for some reason i move out of the industrial space into the other space and start walking around. there are books all over the ground, i walk carefully among them, looking at the titles. the ground is not level, rising and falling, with bumps and holes in the ground. i have to walk across a little bridge, but i still seem to be inside this warehouse workspace.
i come closer to a shack, there seem to be people in there. we do not acknowledge each other.
i see a large hardcover on the ground. it has a bright gaudy cover with yellow bands on white. it is a new james bond book. i pick it up. the dust jacket has a part of it ripped out. the praise blurb at the back is from barbara allen, the picture is of a mature woman with very white hair.
i carry the book off. there is a thought in my head that this will be worth a lot in the future.
(dream ends)
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
hanging with halle
i am in a black area, dressed ghetto styled and i seem to have a nickname of “bigboy” (and only in my dreams can i be called that). the style of the dream seems to be urban blockbuster film.
i am with halle berry we are trying to get into house because it has lots and lots of drugs in it. we start off in some sort of processing plant, it is night, the metal of the steps gleams, the lights cast interesting shadows and out feet klang as we walk.
i have no idea why we are there.
halle is trying to persuade me to go on with the heist, because she is so pretty i don’t take much persuasion.
we get to the house. we are in dressed in black ninja swat style. we both have guns. we get into the house. it is dark and quiet. the mood of the thing becomes a little like a screwball comedy in the style of “what’s up doc?” we are doing comedy whispering as we try to look around.
i am not sure but we may have done some drugs before we got in.
we are also waving our guns around as if they were toys, even though they are heavy and glint in the little bit of light there is. as we tip toe about i suddenly see someone. he is standing in a corner and watching us. he is tall black, bald and dressed in a very sharp black suit. i point the gun at him and tell him to tell us where the drugs are. i get behind him put the gun to the back of his neck, i make halle go in front. i tell him that he has to be careful because we have done drugs don’t make us make a mistake…
he directs us downstairs.
we go.
we are now in a room that looks very much like it has been decorated in ikea style.
we chat more.
halle stumbles and falls on the floor and ends up by a couch and a stereo system and cds. she laughs; she also seems to be sitting amongst a pile of sketches.
the mysterious man tells me where the drugs are; we move from the lovely front room and enter a very large warehouse. drugs are all neatly stacked and label on shelves.
the doorbell rings.
the mysterious man says: “customers”.
i go to the front door, which seems to be an old wooden version of the protective window that garage staff use late at night.
there is a crowd outside. they are waiting, getting a little impatient.
i still have my gun in my hand as i go to the window dispenser.
they don’t recognise me.
all of a sudden they have their guns out.
one man is up at the window shouting, screaming and threatening.
i tell him to calm down, as ever it has the opposite effect.
he is accusing me of robbing his supplier. i am trying to think of something to say.
there are a group of houses across the road; it is very much a nice suburban road. one of the houses has its lights on in the front bedroom.
i tell the noisy man that my colleagues that are watching him from the house across the road, as he turns around the lights go out; when he turns back the lights come on.
i have a “wtf” look on my face.
noisy man just demands his drugs. i start dishing out drugs.
a very large man ambles up; he is in just a pair of shorts, t-shirt, dressing gown and slippers. he is bald. before i give him his drugs i ask to pet him on the head.
(dream ends)
i am with halle berry we are trying to get into house because it has lots and lots of drugs in it. we start off in some sort of processing plant, it is night, the metal of the steps gleams, the lights cast interesting shadows and out feet klang as we walk.
i have no idea why we are there.
halle is trying to persuade me to go on with the heist, because she is so pretty i don’t take much persuasion.
we get to the house. we are in dressed in black ninja swat style. we both have guns. we get into the house. it is dark and quiet. the mood of the thing becomes a little like a screwball comedy in the style of “what’s up doc?” we are doing comedy whispering as we try to look around.
i am not sure but we may have done some drugs before we got in.
we are also waving our guns around as if they were toys, even though they are heavy and glint in the little bit of light there is. as we tip toe about i suddenly see someone. he is standing in a corner and watching us. he is tall black, bald and dressed in a very sharp black suit. i point the gun at him and tell him to tell us where the drugs are. i get behind him put the gun to the back of his neck, i make halle go in front. i tell him that he has to be careful because we have done drugs don’t make us make a mistake…
he directs us downstairs.
we go.
we are now in a room that looks very much like it has been decorated in ikea style.
we chat more.
halle stumbles and falls on the floor and ends up by a couch and a stereo system and cds. she laughs; she also seems to be sitting amongst a pile of sketches.
the mysterious man tells me where the drugs are; we move from the lovely front room and enter a very large warehouse. drugs are all neatly stacked and label on shelves.
the doorbell rings.
the mysterious man says: “customers”.
i go to the front door, which seems to be an old wooden version of the protective window that garage staff use late at night.
there is a crowd outside. they are waiting, getting a little impatient.
i still have my gun in my hand as i go to the window dispenser.
they don’t recognise me.
all of a sudden they have their guns out.
one man is up at the window shouting, screaming and threatening.
i tell him to calm down, as ever it has the opposite effect.
he is accusing me of robbing his supplier. i am trying to think of something to say.
there are a group of houses across the road; it is very much a nice suburban road. one of the houses has its lights on in the front bedroom.
i tell the noisy man that my colleagues that are watching him from the house across the road, as he turns around the lights go out; when he turns back the lights come on.
i have a “wtf” look on my face.
noisy man just demands his drugs. i start dishing out drugs.
a very large man ambles up; he is in just a pair of shorts, t-shirt, dressing gown and slippers. he is bald. before i give him his drugs i ask to pet him on the head.
(dream ends)
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
illicit meetings
sort of a sexual comedy of errors. i know this woman who is not happy in her marriage. we live far apart. we chat online. we chat on the phone.
somehow i start to communicate with her husband.
part of that involves me telling him how i can hook him up with someone/thing sexually exciting. i tell his wife this. if we can time it right then it means we can be together while he is being all excited.
as this is a dream we all suddenly live on the same road, which is very long and very straight. we live either side of it and there is a very large glass partition down the centre of it.
contact with husband is established. plan goes into operation.
but now i can’t remember how to contact the wife.
but i can see her we are almost opposite each other. i try to get her to look at me but she doesn’t.
husband is getting a little annoyed because he is waiting.
i can see him, he is in a bedroom that is several doors down from the wife.
the sides of the road we are own are moving in the opposite directions.
i can see her sleeping.
i can see him sitting up waiting.
she wakes. looks to me. i mime her phoning me (i can’t remember her email, website or phone number).
she phones i explain the situation. she gets excited. she gives me her contact details.
i then have to go out to do some bits and pieces in order to make the thing work for the husband.
because of the moving straight roads i need to find the right place to cross.
i find a zebra crossing that does what i need it to do, there is a strip of grass and a low metal fence along side it. i cross and then i seem to end up in a big square that is very brightly lit with neon lights and signs.
i know that both of them are waiting. that time is fast running out.
then i hear something about basketball. itv is announcing something about the nba and the england international jim rosenthal drones on about it, but mentions that the game is on tv at 10 that night. it is now 6. i need to get back in order to watch it.
now i have a panic about all the things i have to do.
(dream ends).
somehow i start to communicate with her husband.
part of that involves me telling him how i can hook him up with someone/thing sexually exciting. i tell his wife this. if we can time it right then it means we can be together while he is being all excited.
as this is a dream we all suddenly live on the same road, which is very long and very straight. we live either side of it and there is a very large glass partition down the centre of it.
contact with husband is established. plan goes into operation.
but now i can’t remember how to contact the wife.
but i can see her we are almost opposite each other. i try to get her to look at me but she doesn’t.
husband is getting a little annoyed because he is waiting.
i can see him, he is in a bedroom that is several doors down from the wife.
the sides of the road we are own are moving in the opposite directions.
i can see her sleeping.
i can see him sitting up waiting.
she wakes. looks to me. i mime her phoning me (i can’t remember her email, website or phone number).
she phones i explain the situation. she gets excited. she gives me her contact details.
i then have to go out to do some bits and pieces in order to make the thing work for the husband.
because of the moving straight roads i need to find the right place to cross.
i find a zebra crossing that does what i need it to do, there is a strip of grass and a low metal fence along side it. i cross and then i seem to end up in a big square that is very brightly lit with neon lights and signs.
i know that both of them are waiting. that time is fast running out.
then i hear something about basketball. itv is announcing something about the nba and the england international jim rosenthal drones on about it, but mentions that the game is on tv at 10 that night. it is now 6. i need to get back in order to watch it.
now i have a panic about all the things i have to do.
(dream ends).
Sunday, October 12, 2008
school crimes
it starts with me (perhaps it is not me, but the performer of the dream movie i am watching) walking into a large empty school assembly hall. i stand and look around me, i am in slight awe of the building structure it is polished ornate wood. spotlessly clean, it cries out money and success. form where i stand there is a stage behind me with gorgeous red curtains, in front of me there are a number of double doors, all like burnished bronze, all closed. on the right side there is a balcony and to the left there is a wall of windows.
i am standing outside of a pool of light.
in the light is samuel l jackson he is dressed in a smart dark suit, he is talking to a slim porcelain skinned redhead. from the way they are speaking it is obvious that she is his student. he is congratulating her for her performance; she is smiling at him and is holding her instrument bag.
he walks her out of the hall.
i stand still and drink in the atmosphere. (this is the strange thing, this is pretty much the assembly hall of my comprehensive school, and the only difference is the opulence of the dream version and reality. this all adds to the feeling that this is a movie).
sam l jackson comes back in, he is joined by harry lennix (who played lock in the matrix movies) they are both smiling and conspiratorial. neither of them see me, i move further into the darkness. they are talking in low tones i can’t hear them, as they get further into the hall they get a little louder, they get more excited, they start laughing. they start celebrating but this is the celebration of someone who has scored a winning goal, they run around, the butt chests, they slam fists against the walls.
i am a little worried about this. i am not sure what i am witnessing but i know i shouldn’t be here.
then i hear some of what they say and they are talking about murder, death and overthrowing the authorities.
i make a noise (so like the movies). they hear. i run. i seem to be wearing a large bomber jacket type thing (it is probably a letter jacket) a white t-shirt and a large check shirt and faded slightly baggy jeans. i burst through the double doors at the end. this takes me into an empty reception space, which has gleaming cabinets packed with medals and awards. i keep running through this and out in the schoolyard, i run between some outside classrooms. i can hear them after me. i keep running.
i run down the spine of the school and then double back. i am approaching the doors to the schools. it is dusk, but there are a lot of students going into the school. as i go to enter the school i ditch the jacket.
when i get into the school there is an announcement that there is a problem in the school and that people are to leave.
the announcement seems to say that there are no taxis, no cars and no public transport and that people will have to walk.
i join the exiting crowd. it is a large school and seems to have all ages in it.
i keep walking. it doesn’t take long to leave the very urban school and to enter very leafy suburbs. the flood of students has thinned out.
i get my mobile and call the emergency services, for a moment i panic and i think that the phone is dead. i think i can hear something so i say “hello, hello anyone there?”
a hesitant soft old voice replies “yes”. the accent is west country english. i am confused, i look around and then i realise that i am not in an american school, i am in the north of england in small village streets.
i try to explain that there is murder being planned, but i can’t say where i no longer know the address. i can’t see street names. there is something in the voice and tone on the other end of the phone that lets me know i have made a mistake in calling. they know where i am.
i drop the phone and keep moving.
i enter a park. there is a large group of people they are slowly moving forward to pay homage to a large pile of children’s clothes.
i ask someone what is going on. they say that a number of children have gone missing, presumed dead, that this was a vigil and giving prayer event. as people moved by the pile they take an item of clothing.
somehow it is linked to my recent run in with sam and harry.
i know that if i solve that link i am saved and so are the children.
(dream ends)
i am standing outside of a pool of light.
in the light is samuel l jackson he is dressed in a smart dark suit, he is talking to a slim porcelain skinned redhead. from the way they are speaking it is obvious that she is his student. he is congratulating her for her performance; she is smiling at him and is holding her instrument bag.
he walks her out of the hall.
i stand still and drink in the atmosphere. (this is the strange thing, this is pretty much the assembly hall of my comprehensive school, and the only difference is the opulence of the dream version and reality. this all adds to the feeling that this is a movie).
sam l jackson comes back in, he is joined by harry lennix (who played lock in the matrix movies) they are both smiling and conspiratorial. neither of them see me, i move further into the darkness. they are talking in low tones i can’t hear them, as they get further into the hall they get a little louder, they get more excited, they start laughing. they start celebrating but this is the celebration of someone who has scored a winning goal, they run around, the butt chests, they slam fists against the walls.
i am a little worried about this. i am not sure what i am witnessing but i know i shouldn’t be here.
then i hear some of what they say and they are talking about murder, death and overthrowing the authorities.
i make a noise (so like the movies). they hear. i run. i seem to be wearing a large bomber jacket type thing (it is probably a letter jacket) a white t-shirt and a large check shirt and faded slightly baggy jeans. i burst through the double doors at the end. this takes me into an empty reception space, which has gleaming cabinets packed with medals and awards. i keep running through this and out in the schoolyard, i run between some outside classrooms. i can hear them after me. i keep running.
i run down the spine of the school and then double back. i am approaching the doors to the schools. it is dusk, but there are a lot of students going into the school. as i go to enter the school i ditch the jacket.
when i get into the school there is an announcement that there is a problem in the school and that people are to leave.
the announcement seems to say that there are no taxis, no cars and no public transport and that people will have to walk.
i join the exiting crowd. it is a large school and seems to have all ages in it.
i keep walking. it doesn’t take long to leave the very urban school and to enter very leafy suburbs. the flood of students has thinned out.
i get my mobile and call the emergency services, for a moment i panic and i think that the phone is dead. i think i can hear something so i say “hello, hello anyone there?”
a hesitant soft old voice replies “yes”. the accent is west country english. i am confused, i look around and then i realise that i am not in an american school, i am in the north of england in small village streets.
i try to explain that there is murder being planned, but i can’t say where i no longer know the address. i can’t see street names. there is something in the voice and tone on the other end of the phone that lets me know i have made a mistake in calling. they know where i am.
i drop the phone and keep moving.
i enter a park. there is a large group of people they are slowly moving forward to pay homage to a large pile of children’s clothes.
i ask someone what is going on. they say that a number of children have gone missing, presumed dead, that this was a vigil and giving prayer event. as people moved by the pile they take an item of clothing.
somehow it is linked to my recent run in with sam and harry.
i know that if i solve that link i am saved and so are the children.
(dream ends)
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
a return to places old
i am back in the old warehouse where i used to count and pack comics. it has a very gothic feel to it. i am working in the offices upstairs. it could be the weekend; it could be night there is a skeleton staff working in the place. i am waiting for people to leave.
i am standing on the little platform outside the office door. it is raining hard in that hollywood style, i seem to be in it but i am not wet.
someone is talking to me. i say i have a few more hours of work to do to. he replies that he is nearly finished. the people in the warehouse are nearly finished also. i tell them i will lock it up.
everyone leaves.
i start to think of picking up all the comics have been missing, i am quite excited by the idea.
when i go downstairs to start locking up i go around the corner to check on something or another. when i return to the warehouse i am coming back to it from a completely different direction to the one i left it. instead of coming through a wooded area towards the warehouse, which now seems to be alone with the feeling of being on the edge of a cliff. the office door glows white. it is a little spooky. there is no sound.
as i approach the door i suddenly remember that i don’t know how to set the alarms. do i punch in some numbers to deactivate it, use a key to turn it off or swipe a fob on it?
the confusion mounts and the dream fades.
i am standing on the little platform outside the office door. it is raining hard in that hollywood style, i seem to be in it but i am not wet.
someone is talking to me. i say i have a few more hours of work to do to. he replies that he is nearly finished. the people in the warehouse are nearly finished also. i tell them i will lock it up.
everyone leaves.
i start to think of picking up all the comics have been missing, i am quite excited by the idea.
when i go downstairs to start locking up i go around the corner to check on something or another. when i return to the warehouse i am coming back to it from a completely different direction to the one i left it. instead of coming through a wooded area towards the warehouse, which now seems to be alone with the feeling of being on the edge of a cliff. the office door glows white. it is a little spooky. there is no sound.
as i approach the door i suddenly remember that i don’t know how to set the alarms. do i punch in some numbers to deactivate it, use a key to turn it off or swipe a fob on it?
the confusion mounts and the dream fades.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
taylor spits
i have been here before.
i a standing outside in the garden. i am looking up at a large box window that overlooks the garden.
taylor comes to the window to looks out.
a voice over happens it says that taylor has to spit five times a day; today she has gone somewhere else to spit, rather than her usual place of this window.
she notices me looking up at her and smiles.
all of a sudden there is a green splurge on the window, it spreads out on the window and fades.
i nod my head and clap.
i get another gob, this one is much larger, and it is a larger cloud of lighter green. it fills a large chunk of the window.
i clap more and louder.
another gob, a more intensive one this time.
then another.
then the final one it is large watery and explodes across the full width of the window.
it covers the lower half of the window.
(in each case they all seem to fade away).
as i am standing in the garden someone comes out into the garden. i can’t remember who but i think it might have been a wwe wrestler either ddp or stone cold steve austin.
next thing i am exiting a black stretch limo.
and that is all i can remember.
(i am pretty sure that i have dreamt about spitting against the window before including the fact that it has to be 5 times a day).
i a standing outside in the garden. i am looking up at a large box window that overlooks the garden.
taylor comes to the window to looks out.
a voice over happens it says that taylor has to spit five times a day; today she has gone somewhere else to spit, rather than her usual place of this window.
she notices me looking up at her and smiles.
all of a sudden there is a green splurge on the window, it spreads out on the window and fades.
i nod my head and clap.
i get another gob, this one is much larger, and it is a larger cloud of lighter green. it fills a large chunk of the window.
i clap more and louder.
another gob, a more intensive one this time.
then another.
then the final one it is large watery and explodes across the full width of the window.
it covers the lower half of the window.
(in each case they all seem to fade away).
as i am standing in the garden someone comes out into the garden. i can’t remember who but i think it might have been a wwe wrestler either ddp or stone cold steve austin.
next thing i am exiting a black stretch limo.
and that is all i can remember.
(i am pretty sure that i have dreamt about spitting against the window before including the fact that it has to be 5 times a day).
Monday, October 06, 2008
not quite home
i am not sure about this dream, but i do think that having a cold is making me dream more.
there are parts of this dream that make me think that i am just playing over a film trailer i have seen but can’t quite place. the dream is a curious tone that is a sort of mix of sepia, insect skin colour and the tone of decay.
it feels like i am watching the dream rather than i am in the dream.
the lead characters may have been adventurers, they may have been explorers, sports superstars or actors but whatever they were they are no longer where they were supposed to be. three of them are dressed in what look to be a racing uniform and stand next to a rugged looking sports car. another small group are a little bit away from them and they are in a support truck, one of the support truck team is wearing a big black hat and has a zappa moustache that has moved into comedy territory.
all of them look a little confused and a little worried.
they are in a large open street, there are building on either side, they look very substantial but they are on 3 or 4 floors high. the road looks to be hard packed mud.
there are crowds in front of them, behind them and to the sides of them.
they are being cheered.
the three racers/stars have no idea what is going on.
their car is being towed forward and they are walking beside it. the lead man on one side his co-star and leading lady on the other side.
none of them seem to want to go into the car.
the car goes forward, they go with it. support truck follows them.
the black hat shouts out to then get in the car. they all pointedly ignore him.
co- star turns to leading man and says over the roof of the car – you should get in, you are the star.
leading man replies – i am not getting in there.
all of them are nervously stealing a glance at the bonnet of the car, but none of them looking at the car.
leading lady says – think of them as your fans.
the joke doesn’t break the ice.
the crowd moves with the car. they are in a moving bubble of space.
the crowd is enthusiastic, but doesn’t appear to be human, it is as if henson puppets had mated with the dark denizens of the cthuthlu and then dressed as if they were appearing in an end of the wild west film.
on the bonnet of the car are a number of writhing beasts that are slithering and slaking all over it, their faces looking at the stars. there is no threat, they seem happy to have the stars here.
just that the stars are not happy to be there.
the crowd in front is a mix of creatures large and small, solid and wobbly. there is an element of comedy about them – some look like they could have stepped out of hr puffenstuff while others look like they would only be happy in the recesses of your own worst nightmares. some amble along others look like every movement just causes pain and discomfort to them and those around them, some are slender others are just rolls of blubber that move in ways you can’t understand. some are like people, others are like great wild animals.
none of them are the same.
cut from there to outside the leading man’s flat. the stars look tired. the support truck has gone and the crowds are not there.
the leading lady wants a drink, the co-star wants to rest, and neither of them wants to go into the building until the star has okayed it.
he mumbles some curses at them and makes his way in.
it is a taller building than the others they have seen.
his flat is close to the top of the building.
the corridors are dimly lit, there is a mottled pattern on the wall it could be pages out of a book of leaf patterns, except that all of them look like they are dead and rotting and that if you look at them too long they seem to move, to float in a diseased jelly. the star makes his way to his flat.
goes to open the door.
hanging on the door is a jug and there seems to be a tea like substance in it, but not enough tea bags dangling in it.
he says – looks like you aren’t getting a drink again.
(although there is no way of knowing it is obvious in the dream that this is a joke at the expense of the leading lady and refers to something that has happened earlier in the movie).
he crosses the corridor to a rubbish room and empties the jug.
he then enters his room. it looks like the corridor in terms of décor, but all the furniture is also covered in this odd moving decaying style.
he is not sure if the place has been ransacked or he is just messy.
he goes to the kitchen to make some drinks.
bits of the décor float off from their surroundings to greet him. he gives a little scream.
and calls down to the leading lady and co-star that it is ok to come up.
(can’t remember any more).
there are parts of this dream that make me think that i am just playing over a film trailer i have seen but can’t quite place. the dream is a curious tone that is a sort of mix of sepia, insect skin colour and the tone of decay.
it feels like i am watching the dream rather than i am in the dream.
the lead characters may have been adventurers, they may have been explorers, sports superstars or actors but whatever they were they are no longer where they were supposed to be. three of them are dressed in what look to be a racing uniform and stand next to a rugged looking sports car. another small group are a little bit away from them and they are in a support truck, one of the support truck team is wearing a big black hat and has a zappa moustache that has moved into comedy territory.
all of them look a little confused and a little worried.
they are in a large open street, there are building on either side, they look very substantial but they are on 3 or 4 floors high. the road looks to be hard packed mud.
there are crowds in front of them, behind them and to the sides of them.
they are being cheered.
the three racers/stars have no idea what is going on.
their car is being towed forward and they are walking beside it. the lead man on one side his co-star and leading lady on the other side.
none of them seem to want to go into the car.
the car goes forward, they go with it. support truck follows them.
the black hat shouts out to then get in the car. they all pointedly ignore him.
co- star turns to leading man and says over the roof of the car – you should get in, you are the star.
leading man replies – i am not getting in there.
all of them are nervously stealing a glance at the bonnet of the car, but none of them looking at the car.
leading lady says – think of them as your fans.
the joke doesn’t break the ice.
the crowd moves with the car. they are in a moving bubble of space.
the crowd is enthusiastic, but doesn’t appear to be human, it is as if henson puppets had mated with the dark denizens of the cthuthlu and then dressed as if they were appearing in an end of the wild west film.
on the bonnet of the car are a number of writhing beasts that are slithering and slaking all over it, their faces looking at the stars. there is no threat, they seem happy to have the stars here.
just that the stars are not happy to be there.
the crowd in front is a mix of creatures large and small, solid and wobbly. there is an element of comedy about them – some look like they could have stepped out of hr puffenstuff while others look like they would only be happy in the recesses of your own worst nightmares. some amble along others look like every movement just causes pain and discomfort to them and those around them, some are slender others are just rolls of blubber that move in ways you can’t understand. some are like people, others are like great wild animals.
none of them are the same.
cut from there to outside the leading man’s flat. the stars look tired. the support truck has gone and the crowds are not there.
the leading lady wants a drink, the co-star wants to rest, and neither of them wants to go into the building until the star has okayed it.
he mumbles some curses at them and makes his way in.
it is a taller building than the others they have seen.
his flat is close to the top of the building.
the corridors are dimly lit, there is a mottled pattern on the wall it could be pages out of a book of leaf patterns, except that all of them look like they are dead and rotting and that if you look at them too long they seem to move, to float in a diseased jelly. the star makes his way to his flat.
goes to open the door.
hanging on the door is a jug and there seems to be a tea like substance in it, but not enough tea bags dangling in it.
he says – looks like you aren’t getting a drink again.
(although there is no way of knowing it is obvious in the dream that this is a joke at the expense of the leading lady and refers to something that has happened earlier in the movie).
he crosses the corridor to a rubbish room and empties the jug.
he then enters his room. it looks like the corridor in terms of décor, but all the furniture is also covered in this odd moving decaying style.
he is not sure if the place has been ransacked or he is just messy.
he goes to the kitchen to make some drinks.
bits of the décor float off from their surroundings to greet him. he gives a little scream.
and calls down to the leading lady and co-star that it is ok to come up.
(can’t remember any more).
Sunday, October 05, 2008
blue and white dress: off to see the wizard
i am on a spying mission. i am with my partner a little fat man, who is balding but has a very large moustache. he wears what appears to be a suit that would not be out of place in a period drama, you could be easily mistaken for thinking that he was auditioning for the part of dr. watson in a sherlock holmes movie.
i have no idea what we are looking for.
i know we are in a part of london that is familiar but is also nothing at all like london.
we are near a playground that has lots of basketball courts on it, each of them surrounded by mesh fences; it is all very much like a maze.
we are walking around talking to people.
we meet a tall amazonian black girl at once she is both ancient and young, serious and flirty. she is taller than both of us. she is wearing a long blue and white gingham dress, a bright white blouse, white tights and flat shoes. her hair is in two pigtails, tied with big ribbons. she appears ready to find the wizard.
we ask her questions.
she takes us back to her place.
she goes to bed.
we can both see that she is stretched out naked on her bed. we both make some less than subtle jokes about her wantonness, awarding scores for her sexuality.
i approach her.
she talks of the goddess. we entwine.
i wake up, sprawled alone on the bed.
she is up and about. she is still naked and she is walking around she is talking to herself. she turns to me and says, “are these your keys?” i say yes (and they are indeed the keys i use to open my front door in the real world). she smiles and says that won’t do. she drops them and goes looking for the keys she needs. as she walks she is sometimes naked, she is sometimes dressed as she was before.
without being told i know she is looking for some keys so that she can open the doors to her shop that is across the road.
she wants to go there to get a small iron, there is no reason given for why she wants this small iron. but there is a sense of foreboding about it.
she approaches a pile of clothes that belong to my partner (he is nowhere to be seen) and pulls out his identity card and badge. she smiles at me. she had found the key.
she takes it to the door, presses it against the door and it opens.
my dream self does not see the rest.
she is dressed, she starts to look on the shelves that are there.
in the dream a feeling of inevitability occurs and fills the whole scene. my dreamself does not witness what takes place.
to look on the shelves she has perched herself, almost cartoon like; on a pile of boxes and chairs, she leans impossibly from this tower to the shelves. below her sitting down and looking at another pile of stuff is my partner. they are totally unaware of each other.
as she looks, she seems to move things to another place, this “shelf” appears invisible but it holds the items she places there. one of the things she moves is a small iron still in its box, it is no longer important to her. she smiles she seems to have find what she wants. to get to it she needs to push some more things away. in doing that she overbalances, topples and knocks stuff on to her. even though she is trapped her left arm shoots out and hits the pile of objects she has moved. this causes them to fall.
this all ripples down onto my partner and somehow manages to make him fall and kill himself.
there is a comedy horror element to it all.
both bodies are still and trapped under the debris of consumer life.
back on the bed my dreamself has not seen any of this.
it is almost as if i had forgotten both the black amazon and my partner. i go out i have a camera with me and i walk along the road. i come to this building. it is a fantastically ornate building. the front of which is a mixed of intricately carved wooden panels and steps leading to church doors. the wooden panels are beautiful. yet they appear to be roughly done, as if not yet finished, though there is no doubt that they are complete.
i want to take photos of these panels but i am not sure that i can. there is no one to ask.
then i am back in a flat it could be the shop that my partner and the black amazon where crushed in, or it could be a flat that used to belong to my mum. my dreamself is not sure. i am not even sure if it is now in london.
there is a door that appears to lead to the shop, i need to lock this door, but i can’t find the key.
i do no want to leave the flat with that door open. this seems to be important.
i look in lots of drawers (that echo the wooden panels of the other building) but find nothing.
i think to myself that i could let a friend stay here and that way i wouldn’t have to worry about the door. i could also come back sometimes after work as well.
that seems to end the dream.
i have no idea what we are looking for.
i know we are in a part of london that is familiar but is also nothing at all like london.
we are near a playground that has lots of basketball courts on it, each of them surrounded by mesh fences; it is all very much like a maze.
we are walking around talking to people.
we meet a tall amazonian black girl at once she is both ancient and young, serious and flirty. she is taller than both of us. she is wearing a long blue and white gingham dress, a bright white blouse, white tights and flat shoes. her hair is in two pigtails, tied with big ribbons. she appears ready to find the wizard.
we ask her questions.
she takes us back to her place.
she goes to bed.
we can both see that she is stretched out naked on her bed. we both make some less than subtle jokes about her wantonness, awarding scores for her sexuality.
i approach her.
she talks of the goddess. we entwine.
i wake up, sprawled alone on the bed.
she is up and about. she is still naked and she is walking around she is talking to herself. she turns to me and says, “are these your keys?” i say yes (and they are indeed the keys i use to open my front door in the real world). she smiles and says that won’t do. she drops them and goes looking for the keys she needs. as she walks she is sometimes naked, she is sometimes dressed as she was before.
without being told i know she is looking for some keys so that she can open the doors to her shop that is across the road.
she wants to go there to get a small iron, there is no reason given for why she wants this small iron. but there is a sense of foreboding about it.
she approaches a pile of clothes that belong to my partner (he is nowhere to be seen) and pulls out his identity card and badge. she smiles at me. she had found the key.
she takes it to the door, presses it against the door and it opens.
my dream self does not see the rest.
she is dressed, she starts to look on the shelves that are there.
in the dream a feeling of inevitability occurs and fills the whole scene. my dreamself does not witness what takes place.
to look on the shelves she has perched herself, almost cartoon like; on a pile of boxes and chairs, she leans impossibly from this tower to the shelves. below her sitting down and looking at another pile of stuff is my partner. they are totally unaware of each other.
as she looks, she seems to move things to another place, this “shelf” appears invisible but it holds the items she places there. one of the things she moves is a small iron still in its box, it is no longer important to her. she smiles she seems to have find what she wants. to get to it she needs to push some more things away. in doing that she overbalances, topples and knocks stuff on to her. even though she is trapped her left arm shoots out and hits the pile of objects she has moved. this causes them to fall.
this all ripples down onto my partner and somehow manages to make him fall and kill himself.
there is a comedy horror element to it all.
both bodies are still and trapped under the debris of consumer life.
back on the bed my dreamself has not seen any of this.
it is almost as if i had forgotten both the black amazon and my partner. i go out i have a camera with me and i walk along the road. i come to this building. it is a fantastically ornate building. the front of which is a mixed of intricately carved wooden panels and steps leading to church doors. the wooden panels are beautiful. yet they appear to be roughly done, as if not yet finished, though there is no doubt that they are complete.
i want to take photos of these panels but i am not sure that i can. there is no one to ask.
then i am back in a flat it could be the shop that my partner and the black amazon where crushed in, or it could be a flat that used to belong to my mum. my dreamself is not sure. i am not even sure if it is now in london.
there is a door that appears to lead to the shop, i need to lock this door, but i can’t find the key.
i do no want to leave the flat with that door open. this seems to be important.
i look in lots of drawers (that echo the wooden panels of the other building) but find nothing.
i think to myself that i could let a friend stay here and that way i wouldn’t have to worry about the door. i could also come back sometimes after work as well.
that seems to end the dream.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
dreams x 2
so i am coming down with a cold. my head feels like it has been kicked a few times. and i have dreamt.
firstly it was i in an office. it was one of those glitzy movie offices everything was clean surfaces, bright metal, multiple computer screens, big windows. i am working at my desk, tipping and tapping at the keyboard; i have a screen in front of me and a screen above me. on the lower screen an email pops up. the email requests my advice on how to run a campaign and promote boris johnson, and it is from boris himself.
i make a bit of a “oh boy” kind of noise.
my colleague and business partner turns to me and asks what is going on.
i look to him and say we have a big job. he looks happy.
the odd part of it is that he is also boris johnson.
we start to map out the ideas we have for the campaign.
i wake up.
next night.
i am walking along a canal; it could be the one near the office i used to work in at stratford. it seems a little overcast. i am there for a reason. i am going to interview a star. in the middle of the canal standing on a barge dressed in jeans and a tight grey jumper and a white long sleeved top underneath it. he is also wearing round rim metal glasses. he is working hard at something on the canal, he might be pulling something, he might be digging something, not sure, but he is working hard, and looks quite deep in concentration.
he is bruce springsteen.
i start asking him questions.
we get around to talking about one of the ex members of the band, who is causing a stir at the moment. the member in question is df (fans will know who). in the dream df had left the band and was back as a member of the tour party (this is obviously influenced by the recent story about pink floyd). there is one song in the set that is not going quite right, and the band members all persuade bruce that df needs to be able to play the introduction as that is what is off. bruce doesn’t understand why he would want to do it as it is just a little above playing chopsticks. one of the other things bruce is concerned about is putting df back into the spotlight. he had walked, and left bruce in the lurch and now he wants to come back. df has agreed to do it in the dark, so that the fans can’t see him. bruce reluctantly agrees. a few candles on stage make sure that the fans see df. bruce is not best pleased because all through the night there are chants for df.
bruce is off the barge, we are standing looking from land, and we are now looking out to the sea. i am stilling asking questions. taking photos as well.
bruce is back on the barge. he continues about the df situation by saying he always makes sure that members of the band are well set, they all get as much royalties as possible. he is striding up and down the barge as he talks. i am looking down at bruce, the weather is chill. his voice is dropping there is a touch of regret and humour in it as he says “and df has done better than anyone from it….”
dream ends.
(and i have to add that this is a dream and has no insight in how to bruce and his band interact).
firstly it was i in an office. it was one of those glitzy movie offices everything was clean surfaces, bright metal, multiple computer screens, big windows. i am working at my desk, tipping and tapping at the keyboard; i have a screen in front of me and a screen above me. on the lower screen an email pops up. the email requests my advice on how to run a campaign and promote boris johnson, and it is from boris himself.
i make a bit of a “oh boy” kind of noise.
my colleague and business partner turns to me and asks what is going on.
i look to him and say we have a big job. he looks happy.
the odd part of it is that he is also boris johnson.
we start to map out the ideas we have for the campaign.
i wake up.
next night.
i am walking along a canal; it could be the one near the office i used to work in at stratford. it seems a little overcast. i am there for a reason. i am going to interview a star. in the middle of the canal standing on a barge dressed in jeans and a tight grey jumper and a white long sleeved top underneath it. he is also wearing round rim metal glasses. he is working hard at something on the canal, he might be pulling something, he might be digging something, not sure, but he is working hard, and looks quite deep in concentration.
he is bruce springsteen.
i start asking him questions.
we get around to talking about one of the ex members of the band, who is causing a stir at the moment. the member in question is df (fans will know who). in the dream df had left the band and was back as a member of the tour party (this is obviously influenced by the recent story about pink floyd). there is one song in the set that is not going quite right, and the band members all persuade bruce that df needs to be able to play the introduction as that is what is off. bruce doesn’t understand why he would want to do it as it is just a little above playing chopsticks. one of the other things bruce is concerned about is putting df back into the spotlight. he had walked, and left bruce in the lurch and now he wants to come back. df has agreed to do it in the dark, so that the fans can’t see him. bruce reluctantly agrees. a few candles on stage make sure that the fans see df. bruce is not best pleased because all through the night there are chants for df.
bruce is off the barge, we are standing looking from land, and we are now looking out to the sea. i am stilling asking questions. taking photos as well.
bruce is back on the barge. he continues about the df situation by saying he always makes sure that members of the band are well set, they all get as much royalties as possible. he is striding up and down the barge as he talks. i am looking down at bruce, the weather is chill. his voice is dropping there is a touch of regret and humour in it as he says “and df has done better than anyone from it….”
dream ends.
(and i have to add that this is a dream and has no insight in how to bruce and his band interact).
Sunday, September 21, 2008
lights camera action
i wanted to be a policeman. it was a dream. never happened. colour blindness. it could be a reason why i like crime novels so much.
in the dream i seem to be at a funeral. it is the funeral of a city official. there are many people gathered, there are many graves, all with very low headstones. no one is looking to a grave they are all looking forward to where people will face them to give a eulogy. many are dressed in uniforms, at the back of crowd there is a gaggle of people who are in suits, from their top pockets dangle their detective badges.
now because this is a dream the graveyard/ funeral is taking place in the open and sometimes indoors.
i am there with a set of camera.
as i walk to the back i notice that all the graves have cameras placed on them so as to catch the speakers who will be standing in front of the grave. each of the camera are different styles, they form a history of hand-held cameras.
i take position at the back and take my camera out and prepare to take some photos of the speakers. although i have a large camera i am trying to keep a low profile.
i am there because i am trying to track someone down. someone who has done something that makes him a dirty copper.
as i take photos i am mingling.
i have a cover story. something about being the estranged boyfriend of a cop who is there trying to find her.
as i am taking photos i am changing the lenses on the camera.
i notice that there is something wrong with the camera, it looks like the glass has melted. i change it and then it looks like it has been dappled. i take a photo and it looks like a line drawing rather than a photo. so there is a little bit of panic about me.
i am leaning up against a wall, there is a window and i am looking outside.
there is an announcement and the detectives start to move out, for some reason i think i should move out with them. i go back to my seat, sort of stuff out of my bag and then leave, going into a corridor i realise that people are looking at me. i go the other way down the corridor; luckily there is a toilet there, as i go i rehearse my cover story.
the toilet turns out to be a combination of dining area, fishpond and toilets. the tables to eat from are wooden slatted things that you see in gardens, bright pine. the kitchen/serving area is closed, the doors to it looking very much like they have been knocked up from any piece of wood that could have been found.
i am the only person in there.
to get to the toilets you have to wade through the fishpond.
as i start to wade the radio starts and a child and mum are being interviewed about how nice the oasis boys were. the sound is large, tinny and echoes all over. oasis seem to have given the family a lot of cash so that the kid can get something it needs. there is surprise and happiness in the voices of the family.
the pond water looks very dirty, there are plastic toys floating in it. i am not keen to walk through it.
dream ends.
in the dream i seem to be at a funeral. it is the funeral of a city official. there are many people gathered, there are many graves, all with very low headstones. no one is looking to a grave they are all looking forward to where people will face them to give a eulogy. many are dressed in uniforms, at the back of crowd there is a gaggle of people who are in suits, from their top pockets dangle their detective badges.
now because this is a dream the graveyard/ funeral is taking place in the open and sometimes indoors.
i am there with a set of camera.
as i walk to the back i notice that all the graves have cameras placed on them so as to catch the speakers who will be standing in front of the grave. each of the camera are different styles, they form a history of hand-held cameras.
i take position at the back and take my camera out and prepare to take some photos of the speakers. although i have a large camera i am trying to keep a low profile.
i am there because i am trying to track someone down. someone who has done something that makes him a dirty copper.
as i take photos i am mingling.
i have a cover story. something about being the estranged boyfriend of a cop who is there trying to find her.
as i am taking photos i am changing the lenses on the camera.
i notice that there is something wrong with the camera, it looks like the glass has melted. i change it and then it looks like it has been dappled. i take a photo and it looks like a line drawing rather than a photo. so there is a little bit of panic about me.
i am leaning up against a wall, there is a window and i am looking outside.
there is an announcement and the detectives start to move out, for some reason i think i should move out with them. i go back to my seat, sort of stuff out of my bag and then leave, going into a corridor i realise that people are looking at me. i go the other way down the corridor; luckily there is a toilet there, as i go i rehearse my cover story.
the toilet turns out to be a combination of dining area, fishpond and toilets. the tables to eat from are wooden slatted things that you see in gardens, bright pine. the kitchen/serving area is closed, the doors to it looking very much like they have been knocked up from any piece of wood that could have been found.
i am the only person in there.
to get to the toilets you have to wade through the fishpond.
as i start to wade the radio starts and a child and mum are being interviewed about how nice the oasis boys were. the sound is large, tinny and echoes all over. oasis seem to have given the family a lot of cash so that the kid can get something it needs. there is surprise and happiness in the voices of the family.
the pond water looks very dirty, there are plastic toys floating in it. i am not keen to walk through it.
dream ends.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
can you smell what the hamlet is cooking?
as ever with my dreams i forget the best parts of them pretty soon after i have had them. this one is not much different. i am not even sure i can remember the highlights of it.
but what i can remember involves me being in a production of hamlet. i can't work out if it is an am-dram thing or some major public art performance piece. either way the thing is a 60-hour performance, and is being put on in a very large buiding rather than a stage.
there is a person sitting at a desk and i go up to them to find out if i have missed my part or not, they direct me to a wall chart that has a very complex running order that says when each line is to be spoken and who delivers the line. i look and see i am still in time to say my line.
i feel a bit happier.
i wander over to where the other performers are. i get involved in a conversation with triple h.
it all makes sense.
but what i can remember involves me being in a production of hamlet. i can't work out if it is an am-dram thing or some major public art performance piece. either way the thing is a 60-hour performance, and is being put on in a very large buiding rather than a stage.
there is a person sitting at a desk and i go up to them to find out if i have missed my part or not, they direct me to a wall chart that has a very complex running order that says when each line is to be spoken and who delivers the line. i look and see i am still in time to say my line.
i feel a bit happier.
i wander over to where the other performers are. i get involved in a conversation with triple h.
it all makes sense.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
24/7/2008 Dream
I'm in an army truck, after some apocalyptical disaster. I sit in the back, being thrown around whilst someone else drives...
then
I'm trying to get to see the president of the USA, who is being played by Martin Sheen (of course). I want to show him the DVD of Barack Obama that I have, and it's so important that he sees it that I begin to cry, but he walks off and as I struggle to eject the disc from the player in the oval office I turn and see him in an appalling false beard and he hasn't listened to anything I've said and is escaping from the white house to go and get stoned.
And then I wake up.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Nightmare
last night I was in a crowd of well wishers all seeing me off. I couldn't tell if it was a plane or boat I was leaving on as there were too many people. I was surrounded by a warm glow and love was all over me. It felt great to have so many saying goodbye, waving, cheering, adoring me. I turned to leave the crowd to venture forth in my destination only to realize, I didn't plan on traveling. I didn't plan on leaving my family, or friends to go off alone with none of my loved ones. I started panicking, unaware of who scheduled this trip and why wasn't I informed of the itinerary. Panic turned into all out fear, I was sweating, my heart was beating hard and fast. I looked to see what mode of transportation I was to go on and there was none in sight. There was nothing to see but a blank. I turned to run back, run down toward the crowd of well wishers, the ones who love me but, my arms were caught tight, splayed out to the sides as if held. I couldn't run; head turned, the crowd was gone. I was falling, falling, falling...
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Raw like Sushi
In my dream I'm slicing bits off tuna and eating it ..
just tiny slivers off of a piece of red, red tuna ( the tuna is outrageously red in the dream.)
slicing the thin slices and them going into my greedy mouth
just tiny slivers off of a piece of red, red tuna ( the tuna is outrageously red in the dream.)
slicing the thin slices and them going into my greedy mouth
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Me, Tuffy P and Emily Carr
...had to save the world from killer aliens from a bad planet. And to do it, Emily hatched a plan for me and Tuffy P to blow up an art museum that had been infiltrated by aliens. These aliens were really nasty and had taken over most of the major centres. However, we were part of an underground helping people escape to unoccupied areas and at the same time attacking alien positions. Through much of the dream, we were moving around through tunnels underneath office buildings after successfully blasting the art museum. That's all the detail I remember.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
film
this is the tail-end of a dream.
i am in a shop. i am with an old friend (someone in real-life i have not seen in something like 7 years and not spoken too much in that time). she is talking the sales person, who looks like he might be a plastic person, but he is not quite, his very smooth skin is just a shade wrong, his hair is almost quiff like, with black rimmed glasses. i am not sure what they are talking about. she is giving him the "oh-i-am-a-girl-i-can't-do-that" look and seems to be getting her way with him.
i am standing down the counter to her right.
i am fiddling with something on the counter.
the sales person seems to be irritated with me doing that.
i move something. in doing that a load of film spools drop to the floor.
i am trying to pick them up without looking too much like an idiot.
one roll of film is under my bare foot. it takes me a while to realise it is there.
by the time i have gotten it from under my foot i can see that several of the frames on the film have changed colour from where my foot has stood on it.
this is shown in big close up.
end of dream.
i am in a shop. i am with an old friend (someone in real-life i have not seen in something like 7 years and not spoken too much in that time). she is talking the sales person, who looks like he might be a plastic person, but he is not quite, his very smooth skin is just a shade wrong, his hair is almost quiff like, with black rimmed glasses. i am not sure what they are talking about. she is giving him the "oh-i-am-a-girl-i-can't-do-that" look and seems to be getting her way with him.
i am standing down the counter to her right.
i am fiddling with something on the counter.
the sales person seems to be irritated with me doing that.
i move something. in doing that a load of film spools drop to the floor.
i am trying to pick them up without looking too much like an idiot.
one roll of film is under my bare foot. it takes me a while to realise it is there.
by the time i have gotten it from under my foot i can see that several of the frames on the film have changed colour from where my foot has stood on it.
this is shown in big close up.
end of dream.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
homes
it seems when i dream i dream of homes. oh ok i am sure i do dream of other things but the few small fleeting pieces i tend to remember are the ones where something happens in a house.
in this one i have a place in a rather large ornate building.
something has happened to get all the residents together. we are milling around, talking, discussing. it is late summer’s evening and night is drawing in.
whatever it was that has gotten us all up has been resolved and people are returning to their flats in the gothic bauhaus it could have been a school-church-hospital building we are living in.
i am the last to leave. i am just standing in the garden looking up the street. it is long, wide and empty, not a soul about. at the top is a building that could be hawksmoor’s christchurch. behind it is the last of the dying sun, above it is a halo of dark night and vicious clouds. a perfect photo i think. better get the camera and tripod.
but realising i have forgotten my key i decide to not disturb anyone by climbing the outside of the building to get to my flat.
as i climb up the christchurch look-a-like is replaced by something with a dome.
i
in this one i have a place in a rather large ornate building.
something has happened to get all the residents together. we are milling around, talking, discussing. it is late summer’s evening and night is drawing in.
whatever it was that has gotten us all up has been resolved and people are returning to their flats in the gothic bauhaus it could have been a school-church-hospital building we are living in.
i am the last to leave. i am just standing in the garden looking up the street. it is long, wide and empty, not a soul about. at the top is a building that could be hawksmoor’s christchurch. behind it is the last of the dying sun, above it is a halo of dark night and vicious clouds. a perfect photo i think. better get the camera and tripod.
but realising i have forgotten my key i decide to not disturb anyone by climbing the outside of the building to get to my flat.
as i climb up the christchurch look-a-like is replaced by something with a dome.
i
Monday, May 19, 2008
A trip in time, and to France
I had this dream camping in Pennsylvania a few days ago. I was transported back in time to age 18, then as an 18 year-old, transported back to post WWII France. It seemed my uncle H needed some kind of mechanical part and my mother dispatched me from Toronto to France to deliver it to him. Off I went. It turns out that part was for a home-made musical instrument, but I don't recall the specifics. I recall that H was playing a clarinet-like horn whose bell looked like somebody's good silver-wear, very elaborate. H had an orchestra of noise musicians in my dream who all played wacky instruments. I was invited to join the band. I happened to have my button accordion there, even though at 18 I didn't play the button accordion. Some guy offered to convert it to a horn by adding a mouthpiece and a hose. I accepted the offer. H lived in an elaborate apartment with off-white broadloom and everyone was tracking mud through the apartment. H just kept saying, oh don't worry yourself over that.
Finally it was time to go home and I was taken to the airport. This led to a second part of the dream which I don't recall except that it had to do with an adventure lost in a parking garage at the airport in Paris.
Finally it was time to go home and I was taken to the airport. This led to a second part of the dream which I don't recall except that it had to do with an adventure lost in a parking garage at the airport in Paris.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
27/3/08 Dream
It starts as one of those usual car driving anxiety dreams. This is not unusual - I'm learning to drive.
Anyway, in the dream I'm not really in control of the car at all. I can't remember who is sitting next to me, or indeed where we're going, but the car is running away from me...and I'm struggling to retake control. I stamp down on the brake pedal too late and the car goes into the car in front, causing a domino effect of shunting along the line of cars in front of me...
And then the scene changes and I'm showing Cassie from Skins some porn pictures on my computer. She's judging them, giving her approval or disapproval as she clicks from one image to the next.
And then I wake up.
Anyway, in the dream I'm not really in control of the car at all. I can't remember who is sitting next to me, or indeed where we're going, but the car is running away from me...and I'm struggling to retake control. I stamp down on the brake pedal too late and the car goes into the car in front, causing a domino effect of shunting along the line of cars in front of me...
And then the scene changes and I'm showing Cassie from Skins some porn pictures on my computer. She's judging them, giving her approval or disapproval as she clicks from one image to the next.
And then I wake up.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
What a Party
A nice dream last night - but so ridden with symbolism even I can guess at much of it. I was in my old home town and was invited to a party by a tall, handsome, gray haired, blue eyed man, whose physical presence was comforting, yet exciting. I bought new silver shoes with sparkles, and a silver dress with an intricate front, the intricacies being created by fabric folds. My hair however was done in corn rows and had a big purple bow like those from a present and it sat smack on top of my head.
He took me in and introduced me to friends. The home was awesome - high ceilings and beautifully decorated. The gathering, if you were familiar with my home town, would not be existing anywhere near that home town - these were people most of the home towners would make fun of because they were highly educated, interesting, world traveled, "green," health food conscious folks, all formally dressed talking about art, travel, books and ideas. I felt a bit ignored however. I was sure it was because of my cornrow hairdo and slightly swollen ankles in silver slippers. But I was accepting of the corn row do on a white girl like me because it really signified my feelings of being "different" which is a part of me that I accept. However, I did remove the bow and loosen the corn rows and fluff them out some.
The party went on with the guy being very attentive, then disappearing, off and on. Finally, everyone was getting ready to leave and I began to investigate the front folds of my gown and found a pillow sewn in the front. I removed it, unfortunately in front of dream guy, and told him I would sew up the ragged hem of the tear.
Then I realized that I didn't know where I had left my car because I had come to the party with Dream Guy. About that time he told me that he was married. He directed me to someone who could help me find my car. Feeling big and clumsy, I made my way through the leaving party guests and went to a garage that had black windows. My car was inside the garage and was covered in branches and leaves. That was the end of my dream.
He took me in and introduced me to friends. The home was awesome - high ceilings and beautifully decorated. The gathering, if you were familiar with my home town, would not be existing anywhere near that home town - these were people most of the home towners would make fun of because they were highly educated, interesting, world traveled, "green," health food conscious folks, all formally dressed talking about art, travel, books and ideas. I felt a bit ignored however. I was sure it was because of my cornrow hairdo and slightly swollen ankles in silver slippers. But I was accepting of the corn row do on a white girl like me because it really signified my feelings of being "different" which is a part of me that I accept. However, I did remove the bow and loosen the corn rows and fluff them out some.
The party went on with the guy being very attentive, then disappearing, off and on. Finally, everyone was getting ready to leave and I began to investigate the front folds of my gown and found a pillow sewn in the front. I removed it, unfortunately in front of dream guy, and told him I would sew up the ragged hem of the tear.
Then I realized that I didn't know where I had left my car because I had come to the party with Dream Guy. About that time he told me that he was married. He directed me to someone who could help me find my car. Feeling big and clumsy, I made my way through the leaving party guests and went to a garage that had black windows. My car was inside the garage and was covered in branches and leaves. That was the end of my dream.
Friday, February 29, 2008
28/2/08 Dream
I'm outside the Plant Centre at work and trying to get my (fictional) girlfriend's sister to like me.
It's raining heavily outside and at one point the two of us are left alone whilst the (fictional) girlfriend goes off to check on something.
Silence. I can't think of a clever way to break this which will in some way thaw her out, so we stand there looking out in different directions onto the pouring rain, as if this is absolutely natural.
Later we're let into the Plant Centre and I try to talk slightly too loudly to the staff, as if to show this sister a) that I know people and b) that they like me. The staff are in turn slightly bewildered by my behaviour and don't really help me out. My (fictional) girlfriend is grumpy about something else, incredulous at some bit of wrong information or nonsensical stock positioning, and has no time to realise my plight. The sister stares invisible daggers into my hairy back.
And then I wake up.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Brain Drain
I dreamed that I was in a long building with a hallway and rooms on each side. I was with a friend. We were just looking down the hall. My left nostril was stopped up and I found the reason it was stopped up was because our brains had been tampered with and part of them removed. About a fourth of her brain was on the floor, with an intricate mapping design in one part of it. That was significant to us but we didn't know why.
I then attempted to clear my nose and couldn't because a piece, looking sort of like an intestine was what was clogging the nostril. I took some thin scissors and clipped that part off, it was a little bloody. Then I threw the part on the floor next to my friend's brain.
We were wondering how we could find out what happened and how we could compensate for the loss of part of our brains. We wondered if the parts could be put back in. Then the dream ended.
I then attempted to clear my nose and couldn't because a piece, looking sort of like an intestine was what was clogging the nostril. I took some thin scissors and clipped that part off, it was a little bloody. Then I threw the part on the floor next to my friend's brain.
We were wondering how we could find out what happened and how we could compensate for the loss of part of our brains. We wondered if the parts could be put back in. Then the dream ended.
Monday, January 07, 2008
in a hospital, recording with Bob
I was on a lake and with some other people and we were cutting ice to use for summer because we didn't have refridgeration. Then suddenly I'm on a river, a crazy roiling river, and there is a woman there that I know but I can't remember who she is, and she is helping people raft down a set of insane rapids on small pieces of carpet. Then suddenly again, I'm in a hospital. I'm not sick though, and I don't know why I was there. I don't think I was visiting anyone. Then I see Bob Dylan there, and he says, hey mister anchovy, you gotta help me. I have to record this song. So, we start looking around for an examination room. We found one, but there was a doctor in there. He said, no problem guys, I could use a break, and he sits back and puts up his feet on the desk. Bob pulls out a 1970s cheapo cassette recorder, the kind with a "condensor mic", pulls out his guitar and hands me a uke. Now, I'm not a uke player, and I told him so, but he said don't worry, you'll do fine. We start playing this song, and I can't remember it at all, and I'm trying to accompany Bob on uke, but one of the strings seems to be growing and doing whatever it wants to do. I mention this to Bob, and he says, hey don't worry, nobody will know the difference.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)