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Two nights ago, I had a most peculiar dream. It was about 1992/1993, and I was the 15/16-year-old star of a "shot on shitteo" teen sitcom. My hair was long — so long, it trailed down my back — and styled a mite feminine.
In an episode we were filming, my character joined a play, a committee, or a play committee (the dream was a tad vague). A female character played by Lindsay Ellis was in/on this play/committee; my character quickly began making a play for her. Also in/on this play/committee was another girl (I got the vague sensation this was a girl I knew in real life, but I couldn't get a fix on her identity); my character quickly became smitten with her.
My character ended up bungling his play/committee duties something fierce, drawing the ire of his peers, love interests included.
I had a dream it was the early '80s and I met Heather Langenkamp/Nancy Thompson (her character from A Nightmare on Elm Street).
The dream proper was preceded by this random bit where I was chasing after a Heave-Ho knockoff. Unlike a real Heave-Ho, it had two smaller, separate platforms which operated side-by-side rather than a single larger platform, and it was not built strong enough to flip Mario-sized objects. Even though it wasn't capable of launching me into the air, the thing remained dangerous to come into proximity with, so I was cautious in apprehending it. Once I got my grubby little hands on the mechanical bastard, it became a miniature Audrey II and started singing. As I offered it my thumb to suck from, I immediately found myself watching a videotape of Little Shop of Horrors, recording a copy in EP mode as it played.
Suddenly I found myself in the '80s. I don't know if I travelled back in time or this was a universe where I was a baby boomer — the dream was vague in this regard — but there I was, in my late teens, having just watched A Nightmare on Elm Street on the big screen, emerging from the cinema only to meet Heather/Nancy and Johnny Depp/Glen Lantz as they were also coming from watching the movie (I call them Heather/Nancy & Johnny/Glen because the dream seem to have combined the actors with their characters). Though I said we had all just watched ANOES, it wasn't 1984; Heather/Nancy was still in high school — about 16/17 years old — so the year was 1980/81. Also, though the two had starred together in the movie, Heather/Nancy & Johnny/Glen acted like they didn't know each other and had only now just met for the first time.
As the three of us stood out there, making our acquaintance, I tried my damnedest to keep Heather/Nancy from forming an attraction to Johnny/Glen, striving to get her interested in me instead. It seemed to have worked to some degree, 'cause I soon found myself hanging out with Heather/Nancy and her girlfriends with Johnny/Glen nowhere is sight. A rusted can of pop and a woman's magazine in hand, one of Heather/Nancy's friends read out a list of the attributes Heather/Nancy found most desirable in a man. From the way she spoke and the combination of words she used, the girl sounded like she was singing the lyrics to a Bruce Springsteen song. I can't precisely remember the lyrics, but there was a line in there going something like "Together, we are drawn to things which will/won't burn us."
Then I woke up.
I find this type of dream frustrating. I did/do have a large crush on Heather Langenkamp, so the idea of meeting her/entering into a relationship with her younger self is immensely pleasurable. On the other hand, waking up to find it never happened and I'm still alone leaves me down in the dumps.
I had a dream once that I suddenly remembered.
There were a ton of Wayne's World sequels, and I watched one, I think it was number 5 or something. Garth was only in it at the very end, wearing a hat and stepping out of a hearse in a completely serious scene. I dunno.
The other day, I found a broken GameCube on the side of the road, but it had a Gameboy Player attached to it, so I took it. Then I got home, and hanging up was a full cosplay dress for Palutena from Kid Icarus. Then I woke up.
I had a dream last night I was sealed in an impenetrable safe room with Mia Malkova.
Usually I enjoy dreams where I get some, but I didn't enjoy this one. The safe room was dank, I got the sense she was only jumping my bones because my bones were the only bones available, and the dream had this undefined but pervading Lovecraftian atmosphere to it.
Have you ever had a dream that you, um, you had, your, you- you could, you’ll do, you- you wants, you, you could do so, you- you’ll do, you could- you, you want, you want them to do you so much you could do anything?
Dream #1: An uncle and aunt of mine moved into the bottom storey of the duplex I lived in briefly back in late 1998/early 1999. When me, my parents and sister visited the place, we found they had renovated it so thoroughly it only barely resembled the home we had known. My uncle had an antique typewriter from 1908 and he allowed me to try it out. My mother was miffed at this 'cause my uncle had inherited the typewriter from their father, who had inherited it from his father, and she considered it a family heirloom too priceless to use for such everyday, mundane purposes.
Dream #2: In my original bedroom (in my current home) an old CRT TV had been set up in the otherwise empty room. I believe I'd set it up so I could play Super Nintendo games on it, but there was no SNES console present and only snow playing on the screen. It was summer and quite hot in the room, so I'd opened the window to cool it down. I'd opened it only a crack, though, because there was no screen over the window and I was fearful of wasps entering through the spaces in the gauzy white curtain. For some reason or other, my parents wanted me to visit the hospital, and so I took the bus there. At the hospital, I found a black, brown, and white tabby kitten wandering the corridors. Taking the kitten with me, I went outside to the bus stop. Climbing aboard the bus, I asked if this was the bus for my hometown; The Unrequited Love of My Life™, who was present on the bus, told me this was indeed the right bus. I took a seat back away from her and the bus rolled off. During the trip, I took up a conversation with the young woman seated beside me. She was a pleasant lady, so I offered the kitten to her as a gift; she accepted the kitten, but in a strange roundabout way. As the bus entered my hometown, I looked out my window; the landscape was recognizable, but the landmarks eerily different somehow, as if certain buildings had been demolished/relocated/replaced during my brief absence.
Last night I dreamt I was banned here for saying something, I forget exactly what, but I do know that it was a rude remark targeted at Addiesin.
I was actually worried when I woke up, I couldn't remember if I really said something that got me banned the night before and proceeded to dream about it, or if it was solely in my dream. Thankfully it was just in the dream.
Now for a dream that followed a particularly downward spiral.
I really wish I could remember how this dream began. The beginning was particularly wacky, involving superheroes (maybe) and my family and I living on a deserted island with carnivorous dinosaurs. I recalled these sequences in some detail after I woke up, but I went too long without recording them, so now those details are lost. :dodgy:
The dream proper I do recall quite well. It was another one of my frustrating "back to high school" dreams. IRL, there's a hallway showcasing photos of all past graduates. In the dream, however, only grads from the last 13 years were represented; grad photos from 1960-2005 were tucked away inside a folder, which was sealed in a glass case on the wall. This flustered me greatly, as I wanted to see the '05 grad photos (that's the year I would've graduated IRL if life hadn't bent me over a table). Thwarted, I left, taking care to hide my face from any teachers/counsellors/etc. who would've recognized me as I crept along the halls. As I stepped outside, I peeled off my shirt and discarded it; this drew the attention of douchebag jocks, who started heckling me over my copious back hair and less-than-trim physique as I left school grounds.
As I entered downtown, I found myself in a heavily industrial area (IRL, no such area exists in my hometown). There I stumbled upon four old casual friends/acquaintances/occasional enemies from my high school years who were on their lunch break. We got to talking, and I came to mention my mother's heart attack, my father's cancer, and that we were constantly in need of firewood to heat our shanty. This is when they informed me they were wood pushers — ie. sellers of illegally acquired firewood. They agreed to sell me a cord if I met them at the abandoned power plant where their deals went down.
Deep down in the power plant's humid, musty, rusty innards I met up with the four guys. There I learned from them their supplier had given them crappy apple wood. Taking a piece, one of the guys deposited it on the ground for me to examine; though it resembled a ruptured potato, I thought it looked perfectly burnable. Then we heard commotion outside. Telling me to stay put, the four left to see what the deal was. Minutes passed. There was loud shouting, cursing, then abrupt silence. More minutes passed. One of the four returned, panicked. He told me a pair of contract killers employed by rival wood pushers had killed his friends, were coming after him, and that we had to get to safety quick.
I followed him deeper into the plant. As we came upon a final door, I saw strong light coming from behind it and assumed it was a back exit. Instead it was a small, cramped room containing empty lockers, a medical examination table, and other detritus; there were no doors or windows to escape through and no decent spot to hide. The guy was skinny enough to squeeze into a locker, but I was too big to fit in any. He hurriedly told me to hide under the two foam mattresses stacked atop the examination table; I hurriedly secreted myself under the mattresses just as the killers came through the door. Somehow I could see right through the mattresses and hence see the two killers. They were Hispanic/Latino (they spoke in Spanish/Portuguese), dressed as Mario and Luigi, and armed with flamethrowers. As you can very well guess, they knew someone was hiding in that there room. While I remained still, hoping beyond hope they hadn't noticed me and thought my comrade was the only person in the room, he left his hiding spot, offering to cut a sweet deal in exchange for his life. They agreed, but only as a fake-out; once his guard was down, Ersatz Luigi toasted him with his flamethrower.
Now it was just me, clumsily hidden beneath two sponge mattresses, a pair of merciless killers armed with deadly weapons standing before me, blocking off my only escape route. I didn't know if they knew I was there and didn't know if they wouldn't torch the place regardless. That's when my body forced me awake.
It was the '60s and I was in Sweden, on the set of a movie being filmed by Ingmar Bergman. I'd been hired as an extra, but due to an actor's absence, I was promoted to bit player. I was to deliver my lines in Swedish, but not being fluent in the language, I had to recite them phonetically; I flubbed them badly.
On the plus side, Bibi Andersson and I shared a mutual attraction; we spent the whole time flirting and consulting a Swedish-English dictionary to bolster my understanding of her tongue.
I had a dream last night where I was technically married to a certain friend of mine. Like there was something medical related where I couldn't get something or another unless I was married, so I got my friend to agree to help me. She signed papers and whatnot, and we were married. Well actually, in the dream, that had happened a while ago, and I was just recounting it.
But now that I'm awake, I'm just sad, because that friend dissappeared a few weeks ago, and I miss her.
Since posting this, my ability to remember dreams has improved, and not long after my mother got out of the hospital. Guess all the stress from my father's death and her chronic hospitalization had the combined effect of fucking up my dreaming.