Uncategorized

20th - Barely slept. No recall.

21st

Snow Rolling
Night is deep, endlessly dark. He steps slow, footprints smothering my own in the snow. Every so often a war cry howls... then the hiss of an arrow far too close to an ear. I can run but but never outrun him. Fall backward into the drifts and roll under depths of the snow. Roll softly. Roll sightless. Enjoy the false security of faux escape.

Trainings
She is Dachshund. Short legs. Short leash. We say her name as a sneeze. She is mine to train. Here and there she whips wild, rolling and whimpering. Simply wait until she simmers down. Return to training. Somehow she is now a kitten. She is still Dachshund. She is leash-less and allowed to play through the house.

Two other dreams I can't record because I can't read the scribbly handwriting.

Frag: Something about Jason Brant on youtube




Team Robot - Spring Competition

Well Gardens
They grow gardens in egress window wells, peas, daisies, sunflowers. Snap the occasional sunflower stem to free up room for the others. "We need vegetables," I tell the residents of this flowery place. They make more windows, wells, little garden plots in which to grow some food.

Concerning Cryptids
He runs a podcast, Concerning Cryptids, live from his garage. A child, deputy and I are invited to tell of the time a dragon soared the sky. Our host is nowhere to be seen. Bored, we snoop and find an alter, piles of batteries, dismantled machines. Battery acid spills across my hand. Rinse in a bowl of water on the alter. Impatiently we wait hosts arrival.

Burrs & Thorns
A sister and I hike through a forest then through a field. Climb down a hill bristling with burrs. Invasive seed pods now adorn our clothes like shining patterns of beadwork. Too much time is spent ripping out burrs. Notice then that my feet are barren. Pull out the sticks and the deeply hooked thorns. Continue on. Our grandmother's lies tucked in the trees another half a day ahead.

Fragment: On a too full train I continuously switch cars, looking for one not as stuffy

HGI (WBTB) Two triangles merge together to form a circle with a sphere inside

Nicks
Through crush of booze riddled bodies make our way to the Motley Crew. Front row for the show is suddenly Stevie Nicks. Concert cancelled. Stevie reappears and roams the crowd for causal conversations. Though not a big fan it is still a thrill to speak with some famous singer.

Science Center
Sometimes student. Sometimes chaperone. Through a science center we stream. Linger in robotics with a feeling of unfinished business but pressed, we move on. In the weightlessness room we leap, soar, softly sink to the floor over and over again.

Fragment: A wolf circles a cluster of people attempting to fend it off. Sometimes I am the cluster. Sometimes I am above.

CnR
Can not get to Gil and Cris waiting for their ride. My car is unfindable in an endless field of others. Only after they scatter do I see my car. Finally get to Chris and Gil, who are watching a man argue with his shadow. Intrigued, I watch along.


HI (post WBTB)
A toddler sister runs into view and soundlessly laughs

Hair Doings
With gentle affection Deb tends each daughter's hair. When brushed they rush to sit aside me as I spill stories spit between fairytales and dreams. She combs pink dye through one child's hair. It is streaky and sloppy. Check my hair in a mirror to see I'm waring Bilbo's hair from the other night dream. A half assed inclination to reality check passes, overshadowed by the urge to fix the monstrosity living atop my head.

Fragments:
-Tin and Kayji sell food at some dusty, roadside market. Kayji is angry that the dollar store treats outsell her from scratch baked good.
-A very large dog strolls past and when I wonder if it is a wolf, wake.


Team Robot - Spring Competition

Fragment
Near a raging, muddy waterfall trying to take photos. Careful while stepping on the mossy shores of the frothing river.

Hangry
We stop for our supper. Kayji sees her friends. She sits with them instead. I choose a salad. A man stands near. Suddenly my food is his? Complaints fall on deaf ears. Facts only find blind eyes. The van which is escape shifts shape into a bike. Ride darkening roads. Hippy man brushes me with a flowered branch when I coast pass. Enraged, I swing around and let loose surge of rage. And then, there comes the sun. It shines the way to the near forgotten roads to home.

Whisper & Warrior
Solitude found in a flimsy shed. Ignore raps and requests for entry. Shed shifts into a treehouse crammed with computers. Shift again into THE bat cave. Heroes gather. A grainy ghost of woman appears shining like shadow Galadriel. She is sublime and exists, aware, across dimensions and time. She knows she haunts the hovel of my all my hearts. I know that across all of her spectral lives she may love only The Warrior.

Chasing
In a pow wows pulsing heart Jae and Shae prance and sway to ancient songs of grace. Fumble my way forward. They are always out of reach. Find them safe in a hotel, which becomes a trailer, which becomes a single shack of hoarders' mess and just as jumbled lightlessness. Want only to rescue them but they seem happy where they are.

Mysteries
With straight cut bangs he looks more oompa-oompa than hobbit. Bilbo says its to do with his evolution from clean cut to wild haired, hobbit of mystery. I laugh. "What do you REALLY know of me?" he asks, then asks things I can not answer. "What do you REALLY know of yourself?" he asks, then asks things I can not answer. We both are a mystery to me, it seems. Despite it all we still keep good company.

Note: Someone who I'd been talking about the game to, became lucid last night and completed one of my new personal goals. She 'fourth walled herself'. It was only her second lucid dream ever.



Team Robot - Spring Competition Day 3

HG Images
An airplane dashboard full of blinking lights and switches
Scanning a row of different shapes and sizes of cereal boxes

HG Sound (thought the radio was playing too loud but realized I hadn't turned it on)
Waiting for a soul traaaiiin.
Waiting for a (shovel or shove of?) the moon.
Everything's gonna be heeeere.
Everything's gonna be here soon.

Fragment
In a waiting room with a mother and many children. She opens her monstrously large mouth and some children merrily walk in. What are they walking into?

Burned
Before the shell of what once was home, killdeers scream through the wilding green. We can not find their nests therefore we can not mow the mess. Aside the shell stands a concrete tube. Someone bumps it. Black liquid sloshes, slicks the siding. Someone else flicks a cigarette too near.
Ignite.
Rush into the shell of what once was home to rescue dust caked keepsakes, a family bible, a photo album, a strange spiral sculpture. "The keys are inside!" screams someone frantic. A pair of us charge the hungering flames. Gather all keys to be seen.
Escape.
And now the shell that once was home is the severest of nothing, not a scrap of foundation or flat, naked patch of earth to show where once it stood. They all spin and sing. They are stupid and free. I envy their absence of memories.

Team Robot - Spring Competition Day 2

HI Someone stands on a cube peak

Honest Love
Invited inside from the howling cold and knee high snow. Old school mate yearns for honest love. Set out through storms to seek out a love deeper than fancies, flings, or psychotic soul mate things masquerading as 'meant to be'.

La Raylee
Impossible hills and steep tilted tracks are no match for Sisters crowded car. Rollercoaster home. I wander streets, find a white sand path laid straight through skinny trees. City blacks out. Back to the house. Cram into the car. Escape. In a toss of snow dusted trash, a baby lifts her head, squeaks. Under her a raggedy man stirs. He is Barry or Jerry of sector 74. "Take her to warmth. Her name is La Raylee. It's also Ophelia." We take her though our car is crowded and our hearts are uncertain. Try to outrun the end that will soon come.

Stairwell Secret
A slave to the hospital again. Below the lowest floor in the stairwell lies a secret room. It is littered with cobwebbed mechanical parts, disassembled. We break often to sift through the secrets stored there, believing some treasure awaits.

Wall Crawlers
Highschool hallway. Aerobics broadcast from wall mounted televisions. Most ignore it. Some of us get sucked in. Instructor climbs a wall like spiderman. As a joke, press back against the wall. Surprise, we can crabwalk backward up to the ceiling. Others join. We wall crawlers storm through institutional halls.


Team Robot - Competition Day 1
{will figure out competition points later}

HI
Old handsaw standing on end, wobbling
Lines of light pour upward into a narrow stream

Soup Spiral
'Free food. At park.' bings the cell before shifting into a crumpled page. Find the place. Spiral stand of starving souls await their share of turkey and dumpling soup. Finally I am there. The remains are perogy dumplings spattered with turkey strands. Take my share. Stroll away.

Project
Dread the test ticking nearer. Accidentally project my music and slideshow onto the wall. It can't be closed. Shame prickles at sight of severely pixilated images. A cousin asks to study with me. She is a merciful distraction from the projected mess on the wall.

Unclean
Some doors are half there, some not there at all. Still they crowd in and make use of the stalls. Mine is a mess of crumples, pools, graffiti choked walls. Mop. Wash. Turn for sanitizer. Turn back and behold a small boy slapping about in the filth of the bowl. Clean him as well while holding back swells of vomit attempting to spew. The father flings clots of Christmas carols and toilet paper ribbons our way. Snap. 'Not my toilet... not my toddler.' Abandon the unclean.


Team Robot - Spring Competition 2025

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.

26th - Lost Dreams

27th

Lot Locked
Crowded parking lot will neither allow me to move forward or back. There is no escape. In frustration I realize that there is escape, Slip out the driver window and walk away. Deal with the abandonment when the time comes


28th

Soldier Boy
He comes for us relentlessly and colored in cultures of red. Our end will come at the hands of a soul-less patriot. We flee and attempt to love the lingering moments of life we have left.

Angels or Demons?
Only grass, sky, house, apple tree, and solitary me. Sweet solitude and silence. Then a Predator sound. Rush outside. A monocle will reveal the invader. But before it is seen, a man floats down from the sagging roof. Now stand between them, an angel of the lord and a predator turned Mandalorian. We scheme to crush a dream.

Tangled Lives
Rolling knots of unkempt hair refuse to be tamed. Within the hills and valleys of tangles thrives a world of insects and snakes. Comb carefully around them to ease the uncoiling of their cosmos.

Also a set of dreams I didn't write down. Hope to be adding the a little later when they return to me.

Skyshake
Love old lyrics. Dance the storm. Learn to suffer thunderous things. When clouds collapse and sun spears shine, reclaim the world and kiss the sky. "See the lights!" she cries. Above golden hour and scraps of grey slither rainbows of northern serpent rays. "How do you say it, in your way? They shake the sky?" She asks. I answer. We both welcome the heavenly end.

I Love You
Can't comprehend the whispers. The words should be warm like a burst of sun some snow blown day. There is only a chill. He sings again, again again but still there is only chill. Finally he screams, "I love you, idiot!" I spread a mile wide moron smile, spin, and walk away. There is more warmth to be found in the wind on a winter, new moon night.

Untie-able
Floppy shoes. Sloppy feet. Can not get anywhere. Walkers and scurry-ers surge around the boulder I become. Attempt to tighten laces but they are slippery, shifty things refusing to be knotted.

22nd

Evergreen Girl
She is stuck in an evergreen. The tree morphs and bends, artfully evades helping hands that reach for her. "How did you get up there?" I call. "I don't know," she answers and then reality checks. Wide eyes. Wiley grin. She leaps from the crown and soars off on the wind. The rest of us lurch off upon our non lucid feet.

Giraffes Headed
From a naked lower human half sprouts two giraffe necks and heads. It staggers about. We do nothing but watch the wobbling monstrosity. There is a twisted beauty to the being but my camera is not here to capture it.

Hunting Hunters
One slumbers, sprawled across my couch. The other lumbers, rummaging my house. They are hiding. An affection grows, though I barely know these two intrusions. In the blink of the eye they are gone. I had wished to tag along this time. But then, were they not hunting me just the other day? Now, it seems, has come my hunting day.

Winchesters
With new moon eyes, scarlet grins, relentless sins, Winchesters run rabid. Finally, feet refuse to flee. Stand. Wait. Brace my soul for unholy fate. But they two tremble like a mirage. "You aren't even real," I dare. Send them off in a dust-devil dance. Now stride off to seek survivors.

Hungering
Insatiably she hungers for his touch, embrace, and taste. When he is away she licks, nibbles, and suckles on what rigid shapes she finds. It is both comical and concerning. "I'm not a nympho," she asserts, "Or maybe I am but only for him." She wishes it were otherwise. She wants back her unwedded world. He returns and her exclusive wants become unfurled.

Screamers
The world is awash in glitz and glimmer. Steel and concrete shine. Mirrored anthills rise. Cords and cables like chrome coated webs crisscross dawning skies. Lavish lords and luxurious ladies sashay through pristine ways And all is beautiful but for the beams and the voices. Everything and everyone screams... screams... screams.

Blanket Maker
An army marches. It is the color of dusty dollar bills uncrumpling against a tombstone sky. We barricade. We weaponize. We camouflage. A tank stampedes our way. Prepare for war. A line of women rises. They dare the tank to crush them down. It lurches forward. The oldest lady, in rippling threads, lays hands upon the rumbling beast. It flattens. Its green fades to copper and white. And as if it were a mere blanket, the elder folds the flattened tank and sets it lovingly aside. In this way she wins the war.