Batch

08-11-2016 -- Didn't feel like writing this down, so am typing directly, at the end of the night, so bits may have been forgotten. Dream started with me working a security post that felt pretty much like an OPC site, but the dream started right when I was about finished with my shift. Unfortunately, or perhaps otherwise, I was then supposed to move right on to a shift at HOI, except that instead of being in the showroom, I am working a security shift at the employee gate, out back.

I am walked in to meet the person I am relieving, and somehow have to explain why I haven't written out a security report for the evening, instead of the person I am relieving having one for me. The guy seems to very quickly change from a guard to one of the mechanics, and is kind of walking me around the property, while I explain that I've actually worked here before, just not concentrating on this area. I explain about having to go out at about six in the morning and unlocking the gate so it is ready for the employees, at least a few times in the past.

I should have jotted notes down right when I woke up, because most of the dream has faded now. I know after a bit of walking around, a female employee gives me some kind of drink. Something that may be somewhat alcoholic, and I find it also has some pills in it. I don't know what they are, but am not interested in taking any sort of pills, so I am avoiding drinking it. There is also a place where somebody is backing up a truck, and I am trying to get out of the way, but I can't move fast enough, and the truck is getting closer and closer, and I look like I am about to get squished, until someone else gets the driver's attention and gets him to stop.

At another point, I am looking out the gate, at the fence next to the I-5, where there is a cat chasing balls or something, and it's kind of cute and kind of fun, but nothing too terribly special. There's also a bit where I am thinking to myself that I ought to put in another application to work directly with them again, and use Ray Beshoff as a reference, and maybe this time not bring in my computer until the staff has left for the evening again, to avoid any problems. There were more bits, but I can no longer remember them, so this will have to do. Idiot!

11-27-2013 -- [Dreams are weird! Slept all night, many hours, dreamed almost nothing, or at least nothing I could remember. Was sitting in bed this morning, mostly awake and relaxing. Drifted off for a couple minutes, and had the following crazy, all-over-the-place dream that is longer and more detailed than almost anything I have dreamed for a week or two.]

So I am standing around at the Falador west mine, trying to do some mining when a blue structure that looks much like the TARDIS appears next to me, and several vaguely monkey-like aliens start spilling out of it like some sort of bizarre flash mob, and seem to be ready to attack me, except suddenly I hear this whistling sound getting louder and louder as a shadow appears on the ground, and everything shakes as a falling star crashes to earth right next to me. This thing is quite large, and I think it has to be at least a size 8 or 9. I run over to make the tag and collect the bonus xp when there is a second bang, and a small star (size 1 or 2) slams down right next to it. I am wondering if I am going to be able to collect the bonus xp twice. But as I try to touch the second star, things shift.

I find myself on a small, sandy hill, kind of sinking into the sand, trying to keep my balance, and as I glance at the mini map, I find I have shifted perhaps a quarter of a screen over, and start trying to make it back to where the two stars just landed, except something seems to be trying to keep me away. It's really weird. I finally manage to force myself back to the right spot, except the stars are gone, the alien flash mob is gone, and the blue TARDIS-like box has turned into a cross between a large robot suit and an astronaut's outfit. I'm kind of walking around it when a government agent who is dressed kind of like a 30s hard-boiled detective, and looks kind of Mel Gibson shows up. He thinks I am the alien who arrived in the suit, and is trying to force me back into it so he can lock me in it and cart me off to experiment on or something.

I am wrestling with him, trying to get away, while explaining that I am not the alien, when the truck that we are standing behind starts to move. He throws me to the ground, hopefully so that I will be unharmed as the truck passes over me, but since it is very close to the ground, he may just be trying to get me ran over. Sigh. But thankfully the truck only moves a couple of inches, then stops. I stand up and find myself standing next to what almost seems to be the Mystery Machine from Scooby Doo, and as I turn, I see my online friend Maddie, who seems to be pulling a t-shirt over her head. "Hey, I'm almost nude, changing clothes here," she snaps at me, and I turn my back to her, while turning red.

A few seconds later she taps me on the shoulder and as I start to turn around, I find myself in a sort of maze of dark, narrow passages in what seems to be a food storage area in a sort of large restaurant kitchen. I am winding my way through shelves of food supplies and prep tables and the like, avoiding a slightly glowing yellow goo on the floor that I am trying desperately not to step in. Dangerous, icky stuff. I manage to walk out of the area backward, while still managing to avoid stepping in anything, and find myself in a large, wide open warehouse loading dock area that is still quite dark, but lights are just starting to flash on all over the place as people come running in trying to find out who has broken in and why.

10-08-2013 -- On the road working with some sort of radio transmitter equipment, and antennae that fold up and fold out or something. Eventually I find myself approaching the Hickory house. Dad's truck is parked on the grass, near his bedroom window, even though he is probably dead. We have moved out of the house, and yet I think mom has just recently moved back in, so it is sort of coming home after not having lived here for quite a while.

As I approach the door, I find there is a lot of mail waiting there, though much of it is sitting on the steps, rather than being in the mail box. There is tons of junk mail, which I know I really ought to leave alone, but instead I start picking it all up and sorting through it. There are selection packages from music clubs, and lots of past due bills, greeting card catalogs, mail order catalogs, letters from prisoners, lots of mail with change of address labels on them that have somehow followed me from several other addresses, and possibly even a letter from Gordon.

I take some of the mail inside, and ignore the rest. I am very tired, and think I really ought to get some sleep, but it is raining really hard outside, and it turns out the roof leaks very badly, so it is dripping inside, as well, including on most of the beds. So I am wandering the house looking for somewhere to sleep.

I walk into mom's bedroom, and though the roof is leaking in here, too, the bed is big enough that water is only dripping on parts of the bed. Parts seem to be dry. So I climb onto a dry portion of the bed and start to fall asleep. Problem is, though I didn't actually see her, mom was sleeping on her bed, and I ended up curling up on top of her, so when she shifted in the bed, I fell off, and she chased me out of the room. I glance into some of the other rooms, and they have odd beds that are being rained on.

Somehow I end up in the back yard next to my bedroom window, kind of half looking inside, and half crouching out of sight underneath it. I have something on my face, perhaps a cross between some kind of sauce and peaches, and my marmalade cat (probably Sammy) seems to be licking it off my face. Melody wanders into my room, moving things and eventually closing and locking my window (which has been open) before moving on to her own room. Meanwhile, I have shifted over to hiding under her window, making some slight amount of noise. I am half trying to remain crouched out of sight, and half trying to pop up and startle her. She leans out the window and sees me, and is half trying to lecture me, and half closing and locking her window.

Things are kind of half shifting to becoming a large data center with computers and data banks all over the place, but still with the layout of the Hickory house. It is very strange.

Miniaturization and modernization are happening at a very fast pace, and I can kind of see as memory chips are getting smaller and smaller (and yet the amounts of them being stacked together are getting greater and greater) so that even while the individual chips are shrinking, the overall drives are getting physically larger and larger.

People are wandering through the house, and almost kind of just waving their hands, and more and more memory modules are appearing in place, and getting bigger and bigger, so that the amount of information they can hold are increasing at an exponential rate. And yet the volume of information to be contained is expanding at an even greater rate.

It's like the amount of storage is increasing from megabytes to gigabytes to terabytes and beyond, and yet the amount of information there is to store is somehow increasing at a rate that is infinitely greater. It is like storage is expanding at a rate of infinity, while information is increasing at a rate of infinity squared.

I notice this in a concrete manner because the computer that was keeping track of every kind of soda in the world used to take up about a quarter of a room, but it now takes up an entire room, even though the rate of data storage has increased so drastically. And yet it can no longer hold the data on every soda, but only on the three or four most major flavors of Coke products, because we are learning ever greater details of the molecular and even atomic structure of the Coke products, so that even though we can store billions of times more information in much smaller spaces, we've run out of room.

Meanwhile, I can barely move as they keep waving their hands and creating more and more drives and memory modules to fill up the space, and I am truly frightened that any second they are going to create memory modules in the spot that I am standing, that will materialize inside of me, occupy the same space, and cause me to explode around them.

So I am fearing for my life, while at the same time complaining because we no longer have the information on Coke's Fanta flavors, while I am being squeezed into smaller and smaller spaces. They have to move some things and make a way for me to reach the door so they can throw me out and fill the space where I was with more memory. Very surreal. Especially since at the same time it isn't problems with Fanta soft drinks, but Fantasoft (the company that created Realmz, a fantasy game I used to play.)

So I find myself standing back outside the house again, and I have something in my teeth. It is like a bit of food or something, except instead it seems to be tiny bits of incredibly strong wire and wiring and plastic, that I am pulling out of my teeth, and it is incredibly annoying. Except it also seems to be a bit of a Kit Kat Bar which is somehow made of data chips and plastic, rather than candy, while I am looking at a small circular pattern on a computer screen that seems to be in almost psychedelic colors as it spins around. Very bizarre.

01-23-2013 -- I'm on some sort of church camping trip with Mike Sullins and the gang. I'm not sure, but I think I was an adult for the whole dream, kind of helping to oversee the trip, and it has been an OK trip, but not fabulous. We're loading up the bus to head back to the church, and I find myself trying to half claim one of the front seats. I am given the front bench on the passenger side, which is fine. Some little kid who may be the pastor's son is given the spot just under the bar that I used to love as a kid, but it doesn't bother me as I couldn't fit there as an adult, anyway.

Mike is driving, and the trip home from the usual camp (from dreams, didn't go camping with this church in real life) seems very short, only taking around 45 minutes, when it always seemed the trip used to take 1 1/2 to 2 hours. Soon we're pulling into the church parking lot, and starting to unload the bus, while waiting for parents to come and pick their kids up. I'm probably waiting for everybody else to be picked up, before I get a ride home on the bus.

Mike is going on and all about how good the Boy Scouts are, and how great the trip was, and stuff like that. He seems to be dressed in a scout master uniform, and the pastor's son is in a scout uniform. But something is said that seems to tick the kid off, and he suddenly stalks out of the room, down the driveway, and out to curb on Page Avenue.

He starts angrily calling for his dad, the pastor, who is standing about 20 feet away, but doesn't seem to hear him. This amazes me since I am much further away, and inside the building, but I can hear him just fine. After three loud calls, his father hears him, and walks over and picks him up. He talks to him and comforts him a bit, then puts him back in the room where I am waiting around.

The boy is maybe four or five, and he starts playing with a little girl who is maybe six or seven. Soon they're wrestling a bit, and there seem to be hints of Indian Wrestling in their play, but other forms of wrestling, as well. Somehow it overflows, and I am something of an innocent bystander, as I soon find myself lying on the ground, half-restrained, with them undoing my pants for some reason.

Right at that moment, the assistant pastor busts in, and starts ranting and raving, and wants to know what the Sam Hill is going on! I think he feels something wrong, sexually, is going on, as they are undoing my pants, and I try to defend myself by saying maybe I should have put a stop to things sooner, but I wouldn't have let it go any further if they had tried to pull down my pants, but he seems to blame the kids and feels they are being very evil, and I am only being foolish.

"What if they'd used super glue on you?" He demands. "It could have taken us hours to free you. Or even days if we couldn't get the proper solvent!" He keeps ranting on and on about how bad the kids were, and how could I have allowed this, and it is the story oh Jonah and the Whale all over again! I don't see it as the same thing at all. I don't see how that story ties in, and I don't see any of it as all that bad, but he just won't listen at all.

Finally I have had enough, and like the kid before me, I stalk out of the the room, step over a tiny fence (maybe a foot or a foot and a half tall, more decorative than anything else), and to the curb on Page Avenue, just like the pastor's son, before me. The assistant pastor is calling after me, trying to stop me from going, and not getting why I was so upset with him, but I won't listen, and I keep on my way. I walk down Page to Stanton, then walk under the freeway overpass, before making my way down Calendula and into the flower tract.

I don't know what the big deal is ... I don't agree with the guy, but its not like I don't still plan to attend church next week, or anything. But strange things are happening. People start trying to push me or grab me. The area is turning into a cross between a sort of an old age home and an apartment complex, though the entire neighborhood I am walking through is nothing but single family homes. But somehow I find myself in the apartment complexes behind the church, instead of in the neighborhood I was walking through. [The apartment complexes that aren't there in real life, but have been in lots of dreams.]

In past dreams these apartment complexes have had fun things and nightmare-style things happen in them. In this dream, they are bad things. I find myself arguing religion and politics with people, while going through unpleasant chase bits that seem to go on forever (though I think they really are pretty short.) At one point I am being grabbed an restrained by nurses because they don't agree with my principles, but soon they are turning into attractive-but-old-fashioned school teachers who have a sort of Stepford Wives sort of vibe to them.

I burst out of one apartment complex into a sort of hilly area, where I find myself trying to cross the hills while avoiding dangerous flaming horses. Since they are in groups of four, they just might be the four horses of the apocalypse. Strange and spooky. At first I try to hide from them, but then I find four of them right next to me in a wide open space, so all I can do is ignore them and hope they ignore me, or if they don't, hope I'm powerful enough to survive them.

The entire time, both political and spiritual arguments continue to go on in my head. I manage to get out of the hills and into another of the apartment complexes, but I'm still being chased by the old-fashioned brunettes, who are trying to wrestle me to the ground and restrain me. I don't understand why I find myself saying it, since it still seems to me that he was the nut, and the one in the wrong, but I suddenly speak out loud and say "Fine! I'll apologize to the assistant pastor."

A gap appears in the brick-wall corridor I am in, and I stumble into the lot of the construction supply company directly behind the church, free from all the people chasing me. "On Sunday, after church," I mutter to myself. 50 pound bags of cement start dropping on me. "OK, OK, right now." The cement stops dropping on me, and I claim over the brick wall into the church parking lot.

I approach one of the elders of the church and ask where the assistant pastor is, and he says he left about 15 minutes ago. He looks at me and says something like "You don't look like a process server, but I'm still not going to tell you where he lives or give you his phone number." I end up back in the same room, waiting (perhaps for a day or two) until the assistant pastor shows up again. "Really, God?!?" I kind of announce to the sky.

"Hey Dude! Don't disrespect the Lord!" I find a slightly angry hippie kind of shushing me. "Yeah? Let me tell you a story!" And I proceed to relate the entire dream to him, while he looks more and more flabbergasted as I go on. There are several others here, who also look more and more shocked. As I finish my tale, I look at them, all staring at me in amazement, and ask "Don't tell me the same thing happened to all of you?"

"Oh no, man," the hippie says. "Nothing like that happened to me. Not in the specifics. But in the overall, yeah, man. We're all here to apologize to the assistant pastor because we wouldn't listen to him, man! It's weird!"