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water of lethe
Oct. 4th, 2014 12:00 pm- Sat, 07:30: Water you drink in your dreams doesn't do anything to quench your thirst.
- Fri, 13:01: I am so freakin tired. I passed 666 tweets everyone! I took a screenshot, but I left it at home. :(
- Fri, 13:11: I have a project due that I am not doing because I keep daydreaming about sleeping, and then dreaming about going to get coffee.
- Fri, 13:12: Coffee that you daydream about getting does nothing to keep you awake.
- Fri, 13:18: RT @DCPlod: If I had to describe hell, it would be a place of endless polling. "73% hate burning in fiery pit, 27% are undecided."
- Fri, 14:03: The devil is a bucket drummer.
a dream or two
Sep. 27th, 2003 07:40 pmi dreamed about the devil. he looked like gilligan kinda...more like maynard g. krebbs really.. with a shaggy beatle cut grown out and a three day growth of beard. he had green eyes and was wearing khaki cut offs, sandals, and a kelly green shirt with an old skating iron-on transfer on it. the devil came to tempt me or something, but he was lame about it. he proved he was the devil by making a tiny fire penguin walk around on the grass... mixed in with the grass was a tiny herb...
"is that thyme?" i asked
"LEMON thyme" the devil answered, matter-of-factly.
he wanted me to become a satanist. i told him i wouldn't and furthermore, i told him that appearing in person was a bad tactical move..
"if i was on the fence about god, seeing the devil in person would kinda convince me that god existed.."
the devil said that it was a good point, but he needed "more hedonists."
about a month before i had a different dream... i was in a cafe, and a woman with red-dyed hair was eating strawberries from a white plate. they were soaked in dark basalmic vinegar, like blood. i went over to her table and she showed me a child's game... one of those games where you must manipulate a tiny steel ball into a divit... on the surface of the game was a picture of a pie with a slice missing. i was to manipulate the ball into one of two divits, the one on the right said "bag" the one on the left said "sausage"
i refused to play, saying that the game was too obviously Freudian.
"is that thyme?" i asked
"LEMON thyme" the devil answered, matter-of-factly.
he wanted me to become a satanist. i told him i wouldn't and furthermore, i told him that appearing in person was a bad tactical move..
"if i was on the fence about god, seeing the devil in person would kinda convince me that god existed.."
the devil said that it was a good point, but he needed "more hedonists."
about a month before i had a different dream... i was in a cafe, and a woman with red-dyed hair was eating strawberries from a white plate. they were soaked in dark basalmic vinegar, like blood. i went over to her table and she showed me a child's game... one of those games where you must manipulate a tiny steel ball into a divit... on the surface of the game was a picture of a pie with a slice missing. i was to manipulate the ball into one of two divits, the one on the right said "bag" the one on the left said "sausage"
i refused to play, saying that the game was too obviously Freudian.
i had a dream, where i was trapped in an auditorium. terrorists came in, and they wanted to locate someone in the room... a blond man in a red tibetan shirt, presumably to shoot him. at that moment a "call to prayer" came over an old high-school loudspeaker mounted on the wall (next to a clock and a portrait of walt whitman, i might add,) and as everyone turned towards Quibla and prostrated themselves, i pushed the guy they were looking for out of a second story window, figuring he'd have a better chance. the terrorists noticed, and they took me into another room, where suddenly the terrorists became mobsters, ala the sopranos, but they still were going to cut off my hands. however, they were using a chinese biotechnology firm to do it, subcontracting, i presume. everyone was cheerful and corporate, and dressed up in white smocks. before they began, in typical efficient corporate fashion, they wanted me to enter my email address and phone number into their database. (i guess this would be difficult for me to accomplish after they cut off my hands) so they took me into a sterile white room with a pristine little white imac, and i entered my email address and phone number (i put "nospam" ahead of the domain name, and i mistyped my area code.) as i entered them, the english characters grouped themselves into chinese characters. i was impressed, knowing that chinese has many ways of writing the same phonetics, and my name would be difficult to translate, especially for a computer. i wanted to pencil down the character for "spam" figuring it would be handy to have, but they bustled me out of the room and into the next, which turned out to be the waiting room of my old childhood dentist, dr. harper, who would apparantly be removing my hands. at this point i became truly distressed, not because of the impending hand removal, because if anyone is going to cut off my hands, it had better be doctor harper. all manner of horrible dental experiments have gone on in my mouth, financing second homes, boats, and jaguars for a virtual fleet of dentists and orthodontists (including the removal of eight perfectly good teeth that were for lack of a better term, passively resisting,) and doctor harper has never, ever, inflicted even a second of discomfort. (plus he had the best nitrous, it smelled of popcorn because he popped popcorn in the room where the tanks were kept,) but i was distressed because, at the end of dr, harper's visits, one could take a dip in a cardboard box in his closet, which contained plastic dinosaurs. how was i going to pick one with no hands?
(no subject)
Jan. 18th, 2003 10:28 ami dreamed i was on a rooftop in seattle, a tall apartment in the queen anne neighborhood. the roof contained a white tiled swimming area, with a bathhouse with white painted walls. the sky above was the solid white cloudcover you sometimes see in seattle, white without variation from horizon to horizon. i miss seattle. i miss not seeing the sun for days, it always made me feel buried, private, closed and comfortable.
the pool was drained, and the only person on the roof, maybe even the only person in the whole world, was my grandfather.
he was standing on his feet, and he looked just fine. he was wearing gray slacks and a starched and pressed white shirt, like he'd just been to church. i was so happy to see him, i gave him a big hug, and he smelled the way he always used to, various hair tonics and powders. in the middle of painted white pool furniture, i told him that i missed him and that i loved him, and he said that he missed and loved me too. i told him that i was sorry that i never told him how i felt about god, and that i thought it would hurt him had he known. he just said that he understood, and that the answer was "somewhere in-between" what he believed and what i believed.
he told me that the answer to that whole god question was painted on the bathhouse wall behind him, in giant white letters.
the wall was entirely white, and i couldn't read the answer, and i told him so. he said that he understood, and that it didn't matter. "it's mostly about love." he said
and then i woke up. when i awoke, i could smell the hair tonic and powder for about a minute. my head hurt terribly.
the pool was drained, and the only person on the roof, maybe even the only person in the whole world, was my grandfather.
he was standing on his feet, and he looked just fine. he was wearing gray slacks and a starched and pressed white shirt, like he'd just been to church. i was so happy to see him, i gave him a big hug, and he smelled the way he always used to, various hair tonics and powders. in the middle of painted white pool furniture, i told him that i missed him and that i loved him, and he said that he missed and loved me too. i told him that i was sorry that i never told him how i felt about god, and that i thought it would hurt him had he known. he just said that he understood, and that the answer was "somewhere in-between" what he believed and what i believed.
he told me that the answer to that whole god question was painted on the bathhouse wall behind him, in giant white letters.
the wall was entirely white, and i couldn't read the answer, and i told him so. he said that he understood, and that it didn't matter. "it's mostly about love." he said
and then i woke up. when i awoke, i could smell the hair tonic and powder for about a minute. my head hurt terribly.
(no subject)
Nov. 1st, 2002 12:44 pmoh yeah, mystery had this really trippy dream where she was walking around and people were staring at her, and then she realized that she was wearing someone else's clothes, and that her pockets were filled with strange things that she didn't know what they were... and she was distressed, because she didn't have the keys to our house or our car, and yet, this was the only place she knew to go to, and the only way to get there.
it sounded like a strangely terrifying dream to me.
anyone want to venture an interpretation?
it sounded like a strangely terrifying dream to me.
anyone want to venture an interpretation?
(no subject)
Apr. 22nd, 2002 09:48 ami had a dream,
where my teeth were loose, and i kept worrying about how i'd look if they fell out and damn those braces i had when i was sixteen, i always knew they'd make my teeth loose. they are loose all the time, when i suck on a sucker i can feel them popping about in there. sometimes i can push them with my tongue and they pop forward a bit. anyhow, in the dream they wobble back and forth, way more than the sligh techtonic budging that goes on in my mouth normally, these teeth are sailors on shoreleave, praying for the certain unstability of oceans and not this damned rocking boardwalk that is oh so hard when you kiss it, and some "hair of the dog," would hit the spot right now, have to get off the merry-go-round at the bar, the next time it comes weaving by... anyhow i am beset by memories of ten and twelve when i could dread a tooth loosening for days, pain that is too little to harm anyone and too large to ignore, and persistant in it's desire for attention, when visited, it is brief and spiky and dies so fast, and you want to touch the nerve again, just to see if it really hurt...now i get that pain sometimes, when i don't shave, when they pulled my wisdom teeth in the military, they left a tiny spur of bone in there, and every now and again it floats into a nerve, and my eyes well with tears and a hot pain like a plazing needle drives from my jaw, behind my eye and into my brain, intense, sharp, severe, and then gone, before i can even realize it. the dentists say they can't go n and get it, because if they mess up, i will continually feel that pain, instead of rarely, like i do now, tooth pain was like that, like an electric shock on a corroded switch... did it happen? i'm not sure? the only way to know for sure is to smack it once more with your tongue... until finally it was just hanging on, and it was just like that. finally i could just say "screwit" it's loose, there is no saving it now, and i'd push it out and it would break free and my mouth would fill with blood, it tastes just like sucking on a penny.
freud says dreams of teeth and losing teeth are manifestations of the fear of growing old. odd that a remembered pain of childhood would symbolize decay... but it seems so
true.
where my teeth were loose, and i kept worrying about how i'd look if they fell out and damn those braces i had when i was sixteen, i always knew they'd make my teeth loose. they are loose all the time, when i suck on a sucker i can feel them popping about in there. sometimes i can push them with my tongue and they pop forward a bit. anyhow, in the dream they wobble back and forth, way more than the sligh techtonic budging that goes on in my mouth normally, these teeth are sailors on shoreleave, praying for the certain unstability of oceans and not this damned rocking boardwalk that is oh so hard when you kiss it, and some "hair of the dog," would hit the spot right now, have to get off the merry-go-round at the bar, the next time it comes weaving by... anyhow i am beset by memories of ten and twelve when i could dread a tooth loosening for days, pain that is too little to harm anyone and too large to ignore, and persistant in it's desire for attention, when visited, it is brief and spiky and dies so fast, and you want to touch the nerve again, just to see if it really hurt...now i get that pain sometimes, when i don't shave, when they pulled my wisdom teeth in the military, they left a tiny spur of bone in there, and every now and again it floats into a nerve, and my eyes well with tears and a hot pain like a plazing needle drives from my jaw, behind my eye and into my brain, intense, sharp, severe, and then gone, before i can even realize it. the dentists say they can't go n and get it, because if they mess up, i will continually feel that pain, instead of rarely, like i do now, tooth pain was like that, like an electric shock on a corroded switch... did it happen? i'm not sure? the only way to know for sure is to smack it once more with your tongue... until finally it was just hanging on, and it was just like that. finally i could just say "screwit" it's loose, there is no saving it now, and i'd push it out and it would break free and my mouth would fill with blood, it tastes just like sucking on a penny.
freud says dreams of teeth and losing teeth are manifestations of the fear of growing old. odd that a remembered pain of childhood would symbolize decay... but it seems so
true.
completely unrelated but,
Mar. 14th, 2002 05:27 pm(firstoff i added all kindsa folks to my friends list. i don't know anybody, i jes wanted to look at a lot of random posts. especially cool pictures. me like picture. bored i guess, anybody that looked interesting from my current friends list's friends got added in some spasmatic burst. sorry if anyone doesn't want the attention, drop me a message and i'll remove you.) livejournal needs a "friends of friends" function. (I know, the resulting page would be huge, like that fable about the emperor and the jewels on the chessboard.. you know, man saves emperor's life, emperor asks man about reward, the man wants a jewel on the first square of a chessboard, then two on the second, four on the third, and so on, doubling until the last square, the emperor agrees, and thus his treasury is emptied, so the emperor cuts the dude's head off. (there's gratitude for you.)) but still, it would save me time)
completely unrelated but
a friend at school told me that she has these recurring nightmares, where she reads or hears about a horrible catastrophe. in the latest dream it was a bout of poisoned blutworst, insidiously killing countless german descended folks across the country. in these dreams everyone is extremely angry at the perpitrator, who is an evil person that wants to kill everyone. and then she discovers that she, completely by accident, but somehow on purpose has caused the outbreak. she's left struggling with the question... do i turn myself in, and somehow try to lessen this, or do i slink away? hen, when she sleeps, in her dreams of dreams, she is haunted by pale beige floating saausages, covered in grease, floating an inch or so in front of her face. (ewwwwww.) her dream ends, always, with her questioning some hitchcocky policeman who seems to know everything, and nothing... in that colombo sort of way, in order to find out what they know, so she can make her decision easier.... creepy. i'm scared to have dreams now, because i don't want a dream like that... especially the sausages. maybe she has infected me somehow, with strange kafka-esque dreams? maybe she will infect everyone, and we will all go mad? and it will be all her fault.
completely unrelated but
at work i have this little leather case with a strap all full of cable adaptors that i haul around. everywhere i go has a different setup, and i have to mickey-mouse all these connections to make stuff work. so i checked out all kinds of adaptors and i hual them around now. i got mini to quarer inch, quarter inch to xlr, rca to mini, stereo to mono rca y connectors, barrels, all kindsa fun stuff in there. but the bag is like one of mystery's old purses. it was just the right size, and it is real leather with a silver lizard snap. it's all hand stiched and really nice. and i thought, why buy another little bag? we have lots of these about, and fanny packs are oh-so-lame. this is made really well, and the leather is soft, like old leather workgloves. so anyhow, the other day i had a job, and i had to haul all this stuff about (camera, tripod, etc) so i also hauled the little leather purse, since it would be too much to haul my backpack and other et cetera about. i got this whole modular thing going, see...? printmaking stuff in one bag, work stuff in another, music in another, books in another, all compartmentalized. i can park the whole mess someplace secure, and then grab just the module i need for the next hour or so.
anyhow, was i saying something? oh yeah. after the job i drop off the equipment at my workplace, and i'm left walking through campus with just this little leather purse with a nifty lizard snap. for some reason i felt so very self-conscious. it seemed like everyone was staring at my purse. like "what's that scruffy guy doing with that purse? did he steal it, or is he hauling around his lipstick, or what?" i could just see them picturing me mugging some coed and stalking off with her purse, her bleeding and dazed in the long ferns behind the bus stop. it really bothered me. i wanted to stop and show them all the cables in there. See how manly i am, with all these guy things in my purse?
later it struck me as really insecure. appearance is usually the last thing on my mind, and why should i care what people think? the only person who truly appreciates me is mystery, and she saw right through all my scruffy camoflauge. but sometimes i feel so insecure.
completely unrelated but
i'm so unfocused. i am at school and i should be working, but i can't concentrate. i'm so tired. maybe i'll just go home? i miss my wife.
completely unrelated but
a friend at school told me that she has these recurring nightmares, where she reads or hears about a horrible catastrophe. in the latest dream it was a bout of poisoned blutworst, insidiously killing countless german descended folks across the country. in these dreams everyone is extremely angry at the perpitrator, who is an evil person that wants to kill everyone. and then she discovers that she, completely by accident, but somehow on purpose has caused the outbreak. she's left struggling with the question... do i turn myself in, and somehow try to lessen this, or do i slink away? hen, when she sleeps, in her dreams of dreams, she is haunted by pale beige floating saausages, covered in grease, floating an inch or so in front of her face. (ewwwwww.) her dream ends, always, with her questioning some hitchcocky policeman who seems to know everything, and nothing... in that colombo sort of way, in order to find out what they know, so she can make her decision easier.... creepy. i'm scared to have dreams now, because i don't want a dream like that... especially the sausages. maybe she has infected me somehow, with strange kafka-esque dreams? maybe she will infect everyone, and we will all go mad? and it will be all her fault.
completely unrelated but
at work i have this little leather case with a strap all full of cable adaptors that i haul around. everywhere i go has a different setup, and i have to mickey-mouse all these connections to make stuff work. so i checked out all kinds of adaptors and i hual them around now. i got mini to quarer inch, quarter inch to xlr, rca to mini, stereo to mono rca y connectors, barrels, all kindsa fun stuff in there. but the bag is like one of mystery's old purses. it was just the right size, and it is real leather with a silver lizard snap. it's all hand stiched and really nice. and i thought, why buy another little bag? we have lots of these about, and fanny packs are oh-so-lame. this is made really well, and the leather is soft, like old leather workgloves. so anyhow, the other day i had a job, and i had to haul all this stuff about (camera, tripod, etc) so i also hauled the little leather purse, since it would be too much to haul my backpack and other et cetera about. i got this whole modular thing going, see...? printmaking stuff in one bag, work stuff in another, music in another, books in another, all compartmentalized. i can park the whole mess someplace secure, and then grab just the module i need for the next hour or so.
anyhow, was i saying something? oh yeah. after the job i drop off the equipment at my workplace, and i'm left walking through campus with just this little leather purse with a nifty lizard snap. for some reason i felt so very self-conscious. it seemed like everyone was staring at my purse. like "what's that scruffy guy doing with that purse? did he steal it, or is he hauling around his lipstick, or what?" i could just see them picturing me mugging some coed and stalking off with her purse, her bleeding and dazed in the long ferns behind the bus stop. it really bothered me. i wanted to stop and show them all the cables in there. See how manly i am, with all these guy things in my purse?
later it struck me as really insecure. appearance is usually the last thing on my mind, and why should i care what people think? the only person who truly appreciates me is mystery, and she saw right through all my scruffy camoflauge. but sometimes i feel so insecure.
completely unrelated but
i'm so unfocused. i am at school and i should be working, but i can't concentrate. i'm so tired. maybe i'll just go home? i miss my wife.
