O'nus: Dream Journal

November.2007:
+ Preamble: Just recently read "Being and Nothingness" by Jean-Paul Sartre and related existential literature.

+ Dream Recall:

Hazy eyes. Teary confusion.

Lost hands scramble for familiarity. Discover restrictions on the flesh. Cannot move.

Panic. Legs try to kick. Forced down by cold metal.

I feel the wet wood I am laying wood. Frightened eyes slam shut.

Why am I here..? Panic tries to find why I am here.

My divine desire persuaded me here. Seduced by desire, now lost. Desire of the flesh. Divine taste of the flesh and having mine own flesh consumed.

A cage opens and a foam-filled mouth growls in hunger.

Acidic sweat pours down.

Seductive fatality.
~
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December 12, 2007. Slept in afternoon.
+ Preamble: Studying for ancient philosophy mid-term.

+ Dream Recall:

Lone fire. Warm aggression. Nothing but the fire.

My eyes light. My body lights aflame. I feel the gloriousness of my flesh.

The mortality quickens my heart to pump. Blood desperately escaping the body. I laugh.

A heart full of stars in flames. I laugh at the flesh.

It taunts me. Burning away the flesh, peeling back the muscle.

It tries to seduce me. Devoid stomach fills with infinite hunger. Sexual urges gorge the mind.

It tries to scare me. My teeth all blacken and fall to the ground. I feel the gaping gummy space and laugh. It then has erradict heart movement, constantly teasing of a death.

I laugh.

Enjoy me while I last, O mortal flesh. For you will deteriorate and fall into the eternal passing of energy. I, however, will forever and ethereally be free.

Night phases by...

An older boy pushes me around..

He grabs my hair. Hits my head off of bathroom sinks. Breaks a mirror with my scalp. Flushes my hand in used toilets. I continue to laugh.

He taunts me.

"NOT GOING TO FIGHT BACK?! I WILL TORTURE YOU FOREVER!"

I grab hold of his throat. The beautiful intertwined throat. The bottle neck of the human being.

I remove his throat.

I will fight back. When I choose to.
~

December 18, 2007. Slept in afternoon.
+ Preamble: Finished exams.

+ Dream Recall:

We stand on an ocean of holy water. Decaying ones drowning beneath us.

I step forth. Feet on water.

My crimson robes float around me, demons squealing underneath my cloth. My archaic staff in hand, I pelt the demon casually to silence them.

He stands not too far away. Cold steel armor running in blood. Slowly dragging an ominous maul behind him. Though his hard glowing helmet guard his face, I know his gaping maw is licked by a hungry tongue.

I lift my cape and throw project the demons forth.

Gnawing claws rape the air while screaching sounding more cruel than a dying first-born. Their wicked black wings and gangreen eyes missle forward with killing intent.

He lungs the crookedly spiked maul forward like a sudden train wreck into the side of the demon. Blood spatters and matter flies, the demon is sent flying into the water and dissipates.

With a cut of the air, I unsheath my sword from the staff.

Feet hit the water hard and fast. With a slash at the drowning ones below, a wave of water is sent upwards in the face of Him as I make my way to his side flank. The maul rips through the water, his side flank exposed.

I dash for his exposed side.

~

May I have permission to set some of your dreams to music, O'nus?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by pj

May I have permission to set some of your dreams to music, O'nus?

---

Really..? Yeah, that would be awesome. Can I hear the results..?

~

Oh - of course. You will OWN the results. Or co-own. Your poetry, your lyrics. You will be joint owner of the copyright of anything I come up with.

The way you write is so beautifully poetic. I "hear" music as I read it - ethereal, flowing music. It may not actually work out... but who knows until I try?

Thank you!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by pj

Oh - of course. You will OWN the results. Or co-own. Your poetry, your lyrics. You will be joint owner of the copyright of anything I come up with.

The way you write is so beautifully poetic. I "hear" music as I read it - ethereal, flowing music. It may not actually work out... but who knows until I try?

Thank you!

---

Sounds cool to me!

I will be writting another soon that is a bit more melodic.
~

I like the sword/Staff combo. Way kick some demon ass!

December 19, 2007.
+ Preamble: Nothing special; first day after finishing exams. I have the day off and looked forward to starting my romance novel.

+ Dream Recall:

Two mouths dictate to my ears. One beckons love, the other cries for freedom.

I see the story unfold.

A man and a woman lay in love. Flesh to flesh and simultaneous beating hearts. Warm embrace on silk red sheets.

The other voice cries.

My mouth opens and a tangled skew of snakes come out. They hiss and poison the next words with improper meaning about.

The couple begin to cry.

I, the lone author covered in dust, etch into a torn paper the story of love and human freedom.

The couple face death.

They stare into the darkness. "Hush," death said, "it only hurts till you leave the mortal coil." Their minds lay in the bed of abyss.

The voices beckon.

"Tell them," they both said, "Write down the quest. What life and living love cannot attest."

The couple embrace the abyss.

Death blinks its eyes in shock and abhor. The couple fear death nay love it all the more.

My teeth shine in a grin.

*Dream phases here to another scene*

Burried in an iced coffin. He lays beneath the roads.

Parades of marionettes walk above him. His anger grows.

The crows and bacteria fill the streets. It is him that they need.

Unleashed from an eternal dream and given a gun. His blood hunger to feed.

A mile-long stare on his face, he unleashes a volley of bullets.

Pelting all things and spewing blood forth of those that he hits.

A heart colder than hell and compassion greater than heaven.

He wins the satellite monster in the sky, the one less than six six seven.

In a whim of pity and grace, he watches the pool of marionettes race.

Fleeing from the great wrath of the resolving celestial blast.

*Dream phases*

The sky rains of dying angels falling from a burning heaven.

They fall and are impaled by the ignorance of man. Church towers ripping their flesh at roof point.

A thousand atheists stand with weapons drawn. They race the sky to tear the clouds a new dawn.

EDIT: (PLEASE NOTE)

I am not attempting any form of poetry of any sort, this is simply how I like to recall and remember dreams. I have deliberately chosen to do my best to avoid lucid dreams to experience what I call poetic dreams. I hope you understand and can appreciate the emotional involvement of these dreams.

~

Wow. Pretty cool in here. Your dreams are wild.

I hope pj does put some of this to music; I'd love to hear it.

O'nus, I love you.

Excited about the music thing ^^

I agree O'nus.

They share similar styles; mine seem to be more disjointed, but I think that's just the way I write them.

I find it far easier to capture the sense of the dream itself by writing in that syle in contrast to simply writing a narration as if it were any work of fiction; that takes away somewhat from what dreams truly are.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Carôusoul

I find it far easier to capture the sense of the dream itself by writing in that syle in contrast to simply writing a narration as if it were any work of fiction; that takes away somewhat from what dreams truly are.

---

I should note that I do my best to analyze as I recall to express emotional associations which can add to the poetic representation. So, I am not intending to add anything but fully express my emotional subtext. Do you think that takes away from it...?

~

Quote:

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Originally Posted by O'nus

I should note that I do my best to analyze as I recall to express emotional associations which can add to the poetic representation. So, I am not intending to add anything but fully express my emotional subtext. Do you think that takes away from it...?

~

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I certainly don't think it takes anything from it.. I just wouldn't know where to start in self analysis of my dreams which tend to be very disjointed.


In dreams I often have a sense of being a very seperate entity to the environment around me; hence I find it hard to read an emotional subtext into the overall situation.


You, can clearly achieve this; this does nothing but make your dream journal even more fascinating and beautiful.

November 5, 2007:
+ Preamble: Days before my Ruby and I's anniversary.

+ Dream Recall:

In the lonely path of a street. Desolate.

Yellow skid lines run the road and street lights expose the shy sidewalks.

I stand in a junction. Lights are flashing.

A flaming car drives past the intersection. There is no one inside.

I find myself lucid. I sense the dream.

Instinctively, I walk forward but find my hand to brush on my side. It is soft. It reminds me of my precious Ruby.

I miss her. Our thoughts have been distant lately.

My hand forms into hers and I hold the other hand. It feels proper. We share halves.

I want to know how she feels. Her words have been strong lately.

I change into her, I feel the gentleness.

A throw of flowing hair.

I miss her.. so I wake up.

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Oh my... your way of telling dreams is SO touching!

Not a word too much.

Simply converting the feelings into words.

Magical!

And I agree with pj: would make great lyrics for a song! Can't wait to hear some of it, if you're going to work it out, pj!

Sweet. :D

I agree fully...this style I've noticed in Yours and Carousl's journals does capture a kind of dream atmosphere...writing in in narrative form might "cement" it in place...something you might not want in dreams.

Very nice.

Here you go, O'nus - a demo of one of your dreams.

For those interested, there are just three tracks here - rhythm guitar and a short solo, both played on my Agile Cool Cat, and vocals just using a handy SM57. Recorded and mixed in Mackie Tracktion, using an E-Mu 1616m.

The composition took about three hours... the recording another three. Again, it is demo quality - wasn't shooting for polished perfection, but I'm rather pleased with it.

http://theveryfew.net/rubydream.mp3

I like how creative and engaging it feels... ah maaan.. art is just art - I am unable to express it with plain words. Great work. Both O'nus and jd. You both rock ^^

Great song :)

Ohhh, wauw, the song sounds just like the dream!

Magical as well :content:

January 8, 2008:
+ Preamble: Second day of new term. Got another place to sleep in.

+ Dream Recall:

Leering in an empty garden. Petals embrace my eyes to every direction.

A gentle gust whispers serenity and all the stems of beauty bend to its calm demeanour.

I venture towards the green house. Its warm green glass beckoning like a mother calling.

As I enter, a soft aroma envelops my mind instilling memories of all loved ones I have ever cherished.

I browse the sanction of pulchritude. In the crux of the home, there is a rose erect and alone. Proudly standing and nearly ominous in its beauty.

Plucking the rose, I drink in its intoxicating perfume.

As the smells envigorate my self, I collapse into a dream of infinite resolution.

*Dream Gap*

They stare at me. Their eyes awash in fear and panic.

The gun in my hand trembles and begs to be utilized. Its odious barrel justly fixated on them.

I brace it tight, dog collar in hand, its foaming at the mouth and spitting barks in their face. They slam their eyes and dream of hope.

Flashing emotions of fleeting pain and suffering. Blood shaking in anticipation; finger gradually nearing the end.

They leap at me, grasping the hollow steel tool of death. Stolen from my hands, "Thank you" was their last breath.

The heartless tool of ruin pointed at their own throat.

Splatter.

~

January 28, 2009:
+ Preamble: Lot's of qualitative psychology research, playing Fallout 3 & StarCraft lately, been reading psychology of religion. Personal life is relatively dull.

+ Dream Recall:

Sitting at a solemn table. Apparently, this table and I are separated by the crowd.

The crowd is gorging themselves in an orgy of liquid and auditory sex. The entire crowd is a rotten organism, gyrating in the mix of perverse laser beams.

A fool sits to my table.

Grey face.

It speaks but nothing comes out.

There are words - but they are all meaningless.

My hand curiously grasps the handle of a serrated steel solution.

The fool remains seated. They tilt their head back and expose their column of flesh for air.

My serrated steel relieves them of their flesh.

Another liquid pours onto the dance floor.

None seem to mind.

No one minds.

They keep dancing.

~