Sleep: 10:45PM-6:30AM (7h45m) Detail: 151 words. Moonwalking: I'm at an office that resembles my actual workplace, though it seems more like an inspiration than a carbon copy. There is a bin with some black socks in it, and I'm pulling a pair out and putting them on. Now I am moonwalking for a small crowd of coworkers. JW from high school marching band and my friend PG are among the crowd. They seem to enjoy the show. ... I'm looking around for a place to put my laptop down and work. I find a cube just over by where the bin was, and setup. My boss, SS, comes by and I realize I'm wearing my orange Game Grumps pajama pants. I tell him good morning and hope he doesn't notice the pants. For some reason, I decide that I should investigate whether there is a better place to setup, so I start to wander. I find a cafeteria-like area.
Updated 04-03-2025 at 06:35 PM by 99808
30th Bridge Glitch Keep crossing the same bridge no matter which ways are taken. "Time to make our own roads," I say while scanning ditches for escape. Orality They greet by giving oral sex as if merely shaking hands. Not that desperate to converse, I sit. I think. I write. Intercedings Bewitched by northlight ribbons, brave the snow and starlit unknown. Camera will not see. Phone will not wake. Seasons shift from drifts to mud to drifts again. People need, need, need. Can not even love the lights. Always interceding. HI Phantom serpents of light spill and twist together into a slow spinning galactic dance.
29th Hurdling We train. We would race forever with fluid ease if not for the angst and angles they keep throwing at our feet. Riddled A sea of solemn hearts and shining eyes. Squeeze into the stadium. Stand. Salute. Give goodly tribute to they who paved our way. Champions stand, weapons raised to pierce the sun. Instead, they riddle the gathered mourners. Metal streams. Families scream. We scatter into a mansion to somewhat safety. Rigid Waterpark Cruise through a sun-swept stretch of day. We are carefree with glints of caution. Wait to enter the water world. Our driver offers a false mouth to wear while we are scanned. It fools facial recognition. But inside are flesh rivers of straight lines and rigid rules.
Getting back into the flow of dream journalling, I'm reminded just how much friction there is before you actually decide to write the dream. I have the memory of recalling more, but this is all I managed to get down this morning. I was in school, drawing, when my old principal walked in the room. He danced around it for a second, but eventually told me that I was allowed to doodle since I had a good record. My classmates were not a fan of this development, but they had little say in the matter. Later on, in a church-like room, I walked up to a vacant piano and started playing jazz (a genre I don't play iwl). A family-friend of mine played drums in the background to accompany me. My mind now clued me into the fact that I never learned how to play this, and I was dimly aware of the unlikelihood of me hitting harmonic chords every time. I tried to move my LH to play some random keys too, but no signs of discordant music. The music was pleasant. After I finished, the same principal came up to congratulate me and ushered me back to a seat. Later on, I was in this convenience store dining hall esque area. I knew somehow that this was a secret room of the school. The dining hall has a fridge that I walk up to. Inside the fridge is a stainless steel artifice, circular in shape, made from several components. I knew it to be a heater, and tried to jerry-rig it for some reason, but the moment I tried it, brilliant flashes of yellow electricity shot through the room. And that's all I wrote.
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