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    maboroshi

    1. arrogant rock star; impatient mother and sparking antennas

      by , 12-23-2011 at 02:52 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Last night I surprised myself by having a minor bit of dream control. I didn't control my dream. But I kind of determined the subject.

      Kaomea had posted a few cool songs in her dream journal a few days ago. So I wanted to share one song in particular, too. But I would only do it, I told myself last night, if I had a dream about the song or artist.

      The first dream is the result. But I guess -- you can see that it's not very good control at all, though.

      Here is the video. It's by the Malaysian rock singer Monoloque.



      Dream #1

      It was a grey-white, partly cloudy day. I was in a car with some other guy. The guy was driving us through some kind of downtown area of a city. We must have been on the outskirts of the downtown area. It felt pretty quiet and desolate.

      There were a lot of warehouses and small factory buildings on either side of the streets. The warehouses either looked closed down or vacated. Their gates were all pulled down. On a lot of the buildings' walls and gates, there were also a lot of posters advertising, I suppose, either rock concerts or movies.

      We had driven up a slope, then around a block, then back down another small slope. We were -- or at least I was -- looking down the streets for something. I don't know if we were lost.

      The man was talking this whole time about how arrogant the singer Monoloque was. It occurred to me from this that we were looking for the location where we were supposed to pick up Monoloque. We were either going to take him somewhere else, or spend the day with him, like we were collaborating with him on some project.

      But the man was really not looking forward to picking up Monoloque. He thought Monoloque was really arrogant.

      As an example of this, the man said, "One time Monoloque told me, 'A man hasn't really done anything with his life until he's directed a film.' As if anybody who hasn't directed a film really isn't a man! Well -- this was only right after he'd directed his first film!"

      I think I may have seen a tall-spired, stone church in the distance, down the block on the left side of the car. I looked at some of the posters on the wall again. I realized that they were all for Monoloque's film. They were done in a kind of psychedelic, 1960s style, with block printing, big, chunky letters, and a swirly circle of color in the center.

      Dream #2

      I was in a bedroom. I stood before a dresser. I think I had just pulled something out of it or put something into the top drawer. I was now closing the drawer.

      I must have been getting ready to go somewhere, although it turned out that I wasn't going to the place I'd really wanted to go to. My mom was taking me wherever I was now going. And she'd told me she wasn't taking me to the other place.

      I looked to my right, to the doorway. The living room, apparently, was right outside this bedroom. There was a couch against the wall opposite from the bedroom door. A young Muslim woman wearing a head covering sat quietly and patiently on the couch. On the wall behind the woman was some beautiful, possibly iridescent, piece of artwork.

      I walked out of the bedroom. I was frustrated that my mom wasn't taking me where I wanted to go. But the Muslim girl was so gentle-acting that I tried to mask all my frustration, and just smile gently, as I walked past her.

      I was now in some kind of warehouse. The warehouse was huge -- maybe as huge as an airplane hangar. Where I was standing, it seemed like there was a living room set all laid out, with a bunch of stage lights cluttered around it.

      My mom stood off to my right, about thirty meters or so away. She seemed really impatient for me to get started with something. She was being really insistent and mean -- almost like my mom had her spirit combined with one of my old shithead co-workers. My mom also seemed a lot skinnier than she is IWL.

      I was frightened into doing whatever it was I was supposed to be doing. I turned around. There was something like an entertainment center -- it looked more like a TV and a bunch of other junk all piled up randomly on a cheap desk.

      But over that stuff there was a huge tangle of old TV-top antennas. I knew I was supposed to be doing something with these TV-top antennas. But I couldn't reach them from the front of the "entertainment center." I had to go around.

      I walked around to the back of the "entertainment center." I walked into the thick of all these old antennas, as if I might have walked into the center of a tall, brambly shrub.

      I must have tried to arrange some of the antennas or something. But suddenly some of the antennas started throwing off fountains of sparks! I thought the antennas must all be catching on fire. I was really afraid. But, like an idiot, I think I grabbed a paper cup full of water and actually threw it on the sparking antennas!

      Things were really a mess. My mom, madder than ever, called me out to the front area again. The living room, I now saw, also had one setup on either side of it. These setups were like cheap offices: there were a desk, a computer, and a kind of flimsy desktop bookshelf. There may have been a man working at each station.

      Things were a big mess. In some weird clutter of technology surrounding the office on my right side, another fire, or some other kind of malfunction, was raging. Whatever I'd done in the antenna-nest had probably started this mess, too.

      The person working at that station looked like one of my old co-workers. He seemed to be just about as mad at me as my mom was. My mom may have been standing behind him and on his right side.

      I turned around, backwards and clockwise, to face the office station that had been on my left side. The office worker here was just as panicked. He looked like the 1980s actor Andrew McCarthy. He had shoulder-length hair and wore a pale-blue, button-up shirt.

      This guy was on the phone with someone. But he was also dealing with some major computer issue he was having. I knew that all this was probably my fault, too.

      Finally the guy started slamming his mouse against the desk, as if he were trying to aim it against something. It was like whatever the problem was with his computer, it had turned real and left the computer. The guy was trying to smash it and kill it, or poke it back into the computer, or something. He really seemed to be raging.
    2. clumsy bombs; dying girl on a streetcorner

      by , 09-11-2011 at 02:21 PM
      Good morning, everybody.

      Dream #1

      I stood with another person, looking out over a large body of water, like a really large river. The day was bright, the sky almost white, and the sun glittered on the surface of the water.

      There was some kind of vessel out on the water. It looked like a mix between a ship and a dock. It looked like it was made out of wood as well as metal.

      Another vessel or huge machine was either near or on land to my right. It was firing some kind of explosive devices at the vessel. This big vessel was an enemy vessel, and it was openly firing at the vessel in the water, which belonged to America. But nobody was really doing anything about it.

      The explosives were being launched really clumsily, often missing by a long ways. And the explosives that actually hit the vessel didn't really seem to be doing much damage at all.

      I started to think that if I stood here watching this whole thing for too long, somebody would start to blame me personally for the explosive devices attacking the vessel. I figured I should just get away from this whole scene.

      I started talking with the person standing near me about the explosives. Not long after this, we saw a huge missile launch up into the air. It looked like one of the rockets that launched the Apollo missions into space, except that it was flattish, almost having the shape of a plastic cigarette-lighter. It launched really slowly into the air and up through clouds.

      Dream #2

      I was probably finishing crossing a street, walking up to a corner, on a city street that looked like an area of Manhattan with a lot of housing projects.

      There was a little, blonde girl lying flat on her back on the sidewalk, her feet pointed toward the curb. The girl looked maybe eight or nine years old. She wore a pink or orange summer dress, the skirt of which was pulled up all the way above her stomach.

      It seemed like the girl was either dead or dying. She was so still and expressionless. I could feel (somehow) a lack of consciousness in the girl. I could also see or feel a sinking away of the life in her.

      A Latino man with long hair in a pony-tail and wearing a baseball cap was near the girl, trying to help her. The girl may have fallen while the man was around, and the man may have softened her fall, laying her down gently. But now, as I lingered to figure out exactly what was going on, the man seemed to be trying to stand the girl back up.

      I figured the Latino man was the little girl's father, or some kind of relative. I told the man it looked like the girl needed medical help, not help standing up. The man insisted the girl was fine. But I asked him, "Did you even call an ambulance?" The man may now have been Chinese. He told me he hadn't called an ambulance.

      I told the man that I would call an ambulance. I said it wouldn't mean there was necessarily anything wrong with the girl. But it was always just better to check in with medics to make sure nothing was wrong.

      I put a flip-open cell phone to my ear and called the ambulance. I thought to myself how dumb this guy was for not calling an ambulance. The girl was obviously really sick. I started to wonder whether the guy was going to get in trouble for not having called an ambulance. I wondered whether he was trying to hide something that was his fault.

      As I waited for 911 to take my call, I walked down the sidewalk a bit. There was a platform of scaffolding built over a section of the sidewalk. On the blue, wooden wall of the scaffolding, maybe 3 meters in the air, there were two signs.

      Both signs were made out of tarp-like material. They were set side-by-side. They were probably pink. The messages on them were written in Chinese characters, which were a dull shade of blue. The sign on the left had a photo as well as a message on it. The photo may have been of a little girl.

      I was able to read the messages (???). They basically spoke about how, due to rampant racism within an apartment complex almost all the residents of which were Chinese, certain residents of the complex were being forced out.

      I got the idea that these people had basically just been intimidated by their neighbors until they left. They hadn't been forced out in any legal sense. The people who lived in the complex would have struck anybody else as being also Chinese. But they may have been Muslim as well, or something like that. So the other Chinese people didn't like them.

      It turned out that the building had some kind of disease running through it. The situation was either that the disease was more prevalent among the people getting purged, or else that the people being purged were developing the disease more violently, now that they were basically living on the street.

      I went back to the little girl, who was now "Chinese" (even though she actually looked like a Latina girl). The little girl was sitting up, completely conscious, even kind of cheerful. I knew that she had whatever the sickness was, and that she could get really sick. The ambulance was coming to pick her up for a check up and medication.

      I put my left arm around the girl's shoulders. The ambulance backed up to us, and the back doors were open to receive the girl. A medic lifted the girl out of my arms and into the ambulance. A medic (possibly the same one?) told me, "That girl has tuberculosis. It's really contagious. You were too close to her. You should probably get checked, too."

      I kind of resigned myself to having the disease, even though I was a little afraid. My mom was now standing over me. She told me, "I went to the store the other day and got a disease testing hit. It can diagnose if you have the disease. So that way you know way ahead of time and you can treat yourself before you feel all the pain."

      I stood up and followed my mom. We were now in something like an unfinished bedroom. The bedroom had a concrete floor and barren, white walls. It was lit with a stark, incandescent light.

      My mom pulled out this stretch of cotton padding, like a piece of padding that might be stretched out atop a bed mattress. She laid it out on the floor -- it was actually rolled up, like some kind of stiff, plasticky material, and she had to kind of unroll it and "snap" it into a flat position.

      My mom told me that you tested yourself by laying down on the mattress. I felt like the testing really wouldn't work, and that the whole thing was just a big ripoff. I wasn't going to lay down on the thing, because I felt like it would do more harm than good. But I didn't want to disappoint my mom, and I was thinking of a way to stall her.

      My mom rolled up the mattress, which she'd laid out in the middle of the room. She walked over to the right and back side of the room, near a doorway to a dark room or hallway, and laid the mattress out again.

      As my mom did this, she told me, "These testing kits were on sale at Wal-Mart. So I bought ten or twelve of them. I'm planning on giving them to people as Christmas presents."

      I thought, Oh my god, Mom! You bought twelve of these damn things? You really got ripped off! For some reason I went over and lay down on the mattress my mom had laid out.

      I either sat up, or was helped up. My mom was gone, and my friend H was now in the room. There was somehting in the center of the room that looked like a hearth, for a fire, except that there were a lot of stones in it. H and I walked over to the left, front side of the room and sat down near an old-style, rotary-dial telephone that sat on the floor.

      H picked up the phone and started talking with one of her friends. I watched her on the phone. My view was really low, almost level with the floor, so that the phone's base seemed really big in my view.

      H spoke to one of her female friends about a gift she had given to Y, another female friend of hers. It may have been something like a coffee mug with a photo on it. But when she mentioned the gift, H asked her friend, "What did S (a male friend of hers) think about it? Did S like it and pay attention to it?"

      I heard a little bit of H's friend's response. H and her friend spoke a bit more. Finally I got the idea that H and her friend were speaking in code.

      H hadn't been in contact with Y for a while. They'd had some kind of argument. But before the argument, H and Y had actually been secret lesbian lovers. So now H heard Y was having something like a birthday party. But H wasn't invited. So H sent a present to Y.

      Ostensibly the gift was supposed to have something to do with H's male friend S, as if to signify that H liked boys, especially S. But the gift was really, secretly, supposed to show Y that H was still in love with Y. H was now on the phone with her other female friend to see if Y had gotten the right message, and if Y was also still in love with H.

      H was kind of treating me like I was her boyfriend, even though she never real showed it. So she didn't want me to know that she was actually in love with Y. So she was speaking in code with her friend.

      Updated 09-11-2011 at 02:29 PM by 37466 (fixed title)

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      non-lucid