joeseph

So the dogs kept me up last night, which sucks, but I ended up having a good amount of dreams later on in the morning. Lots that I remembered, lots of imagery. The first two are more minor notes: in one dream we each had to pick a song to sing in front of the class, for a school project. Lots of people went ahead of me. I got an extra day to pick my song, "Prototype" by Outkast, and practice it, but I ended up slacking off anyways. The person who sang their song the best got to have a sing-off with the headmaster of the school, who was really good. (It was a musical school.) I end up singing, and it's pretty good. Not remarkable though.

The other dream involved staying up super late, and the fucking dogs making it impossible to get to sleep. I end up watching something on my phone, and Michelle comes downstairs. "Oh are you watching that too?" She was upstairs watching the same program on TV. Austin bites the bullet, and says that even though he can't get THAT much sleep, it doesn't really matter as long as we're in bed by 2:15 AM. That's his minimum sleep requirement before work.

The other dreams were cooler and more in-depth, involving movement and traversing imaginary landscapes. The first involved me driving back home with my friend Steven to Moorpark; we took a craaaazy back road which went up and down at insanely sharp angles and twisted all over the place. It was overgrown, more of a path in the mountainside than anything. A bicyclist was going behind us, and we almost hit him, but it didn't really matter since our car had broken apart at this point. It was basically two planks of wood strapped together, with wheels. I'm not even really sure how it moved, or how we controlled it. After a thrilling finale, we get back to the house; it dumps us back in my old living room. I owe him some stuff, since I think it's his car that was broken on the drive back home. I start hauling my old couch back over to his house. That should be ok, right?

At some point during the dream we are going over old videogames. This is a really big dream sign for me; old games usually represent the past, and the fun I had as a different kind of person. My childhood, more or less. We look over the different menu options for Super Smash Bros for n64, finding all the hidden "New Game +" options, and extra extra hard modes. I even remark on it, "Man, I'm always dreaming when this kind of stuff happens. I love it." Part of me always wishes there was more of a game to play, whole different modes of the game, more characters, everything. It was the worst with SSBM; I had a really memorable dream one night where I went through several different versions of the game, all with extra stuff.

Back at his house, we start to cook some steak. My mom is there. She's acting kind of strange, as per usual---confrontational and playful at the same time. She's standing over me; I realize I can look up her skirt, but wait, it's my mom. I do anyways (not to sound like a creeper but I wasn't even too sure of the person's identity in the dream), and she's wearing shorts underneath anyways made out of the same dark blue cloth. Crisis averted on that one. We have a toaster oven/refrigerator with different shelves which is doing the job. I throw in another part of the steak, and soon after it begins burning. What the hell?? There's smoke coming out of the fridge, so I open it up only to find that the last one I put on there I put in the ice rack of the fridge. (You know how some shitty small refrigerators have just a shelf that frosts over instead of a separate compartment for the freezer?) So I take it off, put it on one of the other shelves, and soon it's done. We take the steak out and begin to eat, and my dad is there too. It's underdone, though. "Should have put it in the BROILER" I suggest to my mom. She doesn't want to hear it. "It would have been nice and CRISPY if you had BROILED IT." My dad agrees. Fucking women, always going and ruining things

The main dream was really convoluted, lots of plot twists, and throughout the duration of it I was Arnold Schwarzenegger or Goku. As Goku, I've been training left and right. My main training place is this building by a "funhouse" in a fair. Kind of seedy location, but whatever. There's a master who lives there who I train under. I am infuriated at FRIEZA, my sworn enemy. He is at the dojo, and he initiates his final transformation. It's fast (this is DBZ Kai version, where they don't string it out with filler), and after an explanation of how he was forced to do this, and lots of swirly red flames, he becomes the small babylike version. Promptly, I charge my spirit bomb and blast him with it. There are no more flames, no more debris. We are merely slinking around the house at this point, pretending not to see each other. Bulma and Master Roshi, who are accustomed to the sight of Frieza, act as intermediaries. Eventually I leave to go on a drive with my dad, and this is where the dream really picks up. We're in his prius, (not a shitty wooden car) and we start driving away from the fair. We're about to go into the water; but this is OK. I have faith that we will drive on top of it. And we do! We make it across the ocean to Mexico, which is a densely populated place on the beach in my imagination. After a brief stay there, looking at all the RIDES and BOOTHS (everything is a fair to me), we head back. I am nearly superpowered at this point. We drive back towards the water, with the windows down, but the car begins to sink. Oh well, watch this. I roll the windows back up, thinking we'll just through the water instead of over it. It doesn't quite work out that way. I end up throwing the car to safety, or it rolls away back to land on its own, and I bounce along the water the rest of the way. At this point, I am more mad than ever at Frieza. He (or another malicious being of his sort) is surely behind all this. There is a voice in my mind, as I jump and run along the street next to the water. "At this rate, he might as well be flying." So I do; in a powerful surge of energy, the momentum I have from jumping simply ramps up and starts to carry me along the sky. Once I get to the warehouse, there are TRAPS LAID for me. They are poisoned, too. Dogs come in and start to bite me; I have to shoo them off. My friends come in with first aid supplies. I pull a huge glass fang out of my shoulder. Ouch. After this, we plan our daring escape in a very cinematic fashion. Taking the advice of Arnold, we make a break for it in a boat, through the river, making it back out to the ocean (or to the other safe spot). There are boogey-boarders, carnivalgoers, piranha-like fish that we must triumph over. And we do. Everything goes perfectly according to plan. Can you tell I'm sick of writing yet?