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    An Insomniac's Dream Journal

    I have a pretty terrible habit of not recording my dreams. I started this as an attempt to finally get back on track with my dream recall and general interest in LDing. Let's hope it works.

    1. Day 9 and 10: Night and Day

      by , 02-23-2018 at 04:36 AM (An Insomniac's Dream Journal)
      Heh. Puns...

      Anyways, yesterday was pretty surreal in terms of the 'stuff' that happened. Glad to be back.

      Day 9:

      Fell asleep at: 10:30 PM

      Woke up at: 6:45 AM

      Nothing here.

      Day 10:

      Fell asleep at: 10:30 PM

      Woke up at: 6:30 AM

      Oddly enough, even though I slept for, like, 8 hours, I felt oddly refreshed upon waking up. Though I felt like I was in the verge of collapse at Band (Which was only an hour later), so... Yeah.

      Dream 01: Bar Fight

      In a rustic, old bar somewhere, I was locked in mortal combat with some black jumpsuit wearing thugs. I don't remember much about that fight, the only notable thing being Torbjorn chasing after a giant alcohol barrel. I'm guessing he worked there or something.

      Later on, my sister and my brother-in-law pull me and my older sister aside to talk about something. We sit down on a wooden booth. She gives us both a lecture about how this generation is scatterbrained and can't focus on one thing.

      I mock her, reminding her of the fact that, generally, she was also pretty disorganized. I think I remember saying, "Hay gurlfriend, hay gurl, hay, hay, h a y ~ " to her while she was telling us that.

      Dream 02: Vick

      Eventually, I find myself inside the Thinkspace. It's a grayish-blue gradient void that holds nothing inside of it.

      Except for Vick.

      Imagine the guy from Hotel Impossible, only swole and wearing a wifebeater shirt. And with a really bad attitude.

      Look, I don't really believe in ghosts, imaginary friends, tulpas, or whatever the hell you call them, but this guy was most definitely trying to fit himself into the 'dream guide' category.

      He pulls me aside to give me some tough advice. "Back then you at least had SOME pride, SOME push. Even if it was a DIFFERENT kind of drive, I don't want you to die on the hill you're heading."

      I don't know why I named him Vick. Maybe he introduced himself as something else but faulty dream memory distorted it into the name Vick. I'll take his advice to heart.

      Dream 03: The Cow-Pig-Crystal Planet

      I'm out and about during the night, along with my family. My mom is driving the car as we exit the neighborhood.

      I think my brother or something tells me something about an exoplanet that could support life.

      The scene switches to my room. There's a card next to the old Wii I have, which shows a diagram of the planet. On it, it shows a picture of a human, a cow, a pig, and a crystal. The human is crossed out, but all the others have a check mark next to them.

      So this means that the planet is hospitable for cows, pigs, and gems(?), but not for humans. Of course, I think it's stupid, but I keep the card anyway because it looks nice.

      Dream 04: Freaky Big-Headed People

      I think my SubC may have an affinity for creating fictional races. Earlier a woman in a previous dream turned into a white-skinned, red eyed, green haired, and yes, peach-nippled alien creature; which I named the Dreamwalkers. Now there's a race of native people that...Well, you'll see.

      "This incident was more like a "from me to you" kinda thing. Not exactly real journalism."

      The dream begins with a stereotypically Boston sounding man (Presumably a journalist) giving his thoughts on the discovery of the exploitation of a native people in the U.S. It also shows a newspaper headline, all in black and white, which indicates that it took place in the 50s.

      In the modern day, my art teacher (Mr.L) decides to travel south to meet these native people, probably out of empathy.

      Once he gets there, in his old pale-green truck, he goes to talk to one of the women who interviewed the reporter of days gone by. I (The observer) come to the conclusion that these people age much slower than humans. I also see that these native people look like those heads the Olmecs made. These heads are much bigger and much more artificial looking than our own, much like those heads. They're farming tea leaves, it seems.

      The girl looks no older than 10 or 11 years old, and is very soft-spoken and polite. She wears a ragged, white dress and a pair of cheap sandles. She is fluent in both English and whatever language those people speak.

      For some reason, Mr.L and the girl have to stay outside while they wait for some Bighead to finish doing something. A timelapse occurs, and about a day and a half passes as Mr.L gets more and more drowsy and impatient, while the girl looks completely fine.

      I'm willing to guess these people also don't get tired, which would explain why they would be perfect for exploitation. Hey, I'm not supporting it, hell no, but I can see the 'logic' behind it.

      The young girl questions why Mr.L is pacing around, and he retorts, "Look, I'm not going to stay up any longer. This is starting to become an annoyance; an iced tea annoyance. Look, don't 'bag me up' or something. Just hurry up so I can get out of here and go to sleep..."

      I'm guessing he got what he wanted, as he gets in his truck and goes back home.