01 July 2020

Limited Flexibility/Who's That Homeless Man Goose-Stepping Across My Mother's Bed?/Tales of Mystery and Imagination: Deluxe Edition/So I Grabbed Dina Meyer's Sweet Can

The following's a fragment of a larger dream I no longer remember.

I met a girl. She was big — tall, taller than I, and voluptuous.

(With a huge, round pussy.)

Unfortunately for me, she was homosexual/homoflexible.

(She was using deliberately obscurant metaphors, so I couldn't figure out which.)

In either case, her attraction to the opposite sex was marginal and her attraction to me nonexistent.

* * *

This dream was incredibly short. It lasted fifteen seconds at most.

My mother and I were standing at our kitchen window, looking outside. That's when we saw a homeless man cut across our front yard. He resembled a young(er) Harry Dean Stanton, wore a red-&-white baseball cap over longish hair, and was pushing a shopping cart, goose-stepping all the while. She and I exchanged glances; she was mortified/bewildered by this man's presence and desperately wanted to know who he was. Then we both turned to the living room. The man was suddenly there; he goose-stepped across her bed, air-gripping the handles of the shopping cart he no longer had.

* * *

I bought/received/found a copy of The Alan Parsons Project's Tales of Mystery and Imagination on vinyl.

It was a deluxe edition which included three records.

* * *

The following's a fragment of a larger dream I no longer remember.

I was in a buffet, helping myself to eight slices of toasted French bread — four with just butter, four with dark plum jam. Beside me in the line was a young Dina Meyer.

She let me grab her sweet can.

31 May 2020

From the Dream Archives: This Dream Is Fuckin' RAW!

I honestly thought I'd finished delving into the Dream Archives, but while browsing through old posts on a forum I frequent, I can across a transcript of a dream I had had on the morning of that date. It's from 2013, predating the first dream from the Dream Archives I shared on this blog by almost a year.

* * *


I had the weirdest dream this morning. Very, very weird.

I dreamed I went to some pristine white auditorium/kitchen to get some tutoring in math from Gordon Ramsay, who then happily had a fancy cappuccino with a large, layered cake floating in the middle of it made up for me. When I informed him I hadn't actually paid for the course and couldn't due to other commitments, he got angry and had other people eat/drink my cappuccino cake until only an inverted pyramid covered in silver foil was left sitting in the bowl.

Then some weird semi-sexual crap happened involving some '50s-type song playing in the air, Laura Dern trying to land some role in a play while wearing surgical gloves, and me sneaking past glass rooms full of exercise equipment in a slo-mo search for an exit while an unseen married couple conversed.

From there, I left the auditorium/kitchen, and then was chased by a pack of police dogs for crossing some layers of dried mud rings inexplicably called an aqueduct, escaping only when they were distracted by other police dogs chasing an alternate version of me. I then ran up a steep ramp/flight of stairs, found an exercise machine sitting there at the top, and asked myself "Who needs to use a machine like this after climbing this monster?"

And then I woke up.

19 February 2020

4th Anniversary Special!

Today is the fourth anniversary of Dreams of a Randy Git-Fiend's existence. I neglected posting the last three anniversaries, so this one's been a long time coming, Luckily, I have a nice, full dream to report.

* * *

I struck up a conversation with a girl I had just met. She wore blue jeans and a pale gray t-shirt with dark red lettering on the front. She was quite lovely, a couple years older than I, with long waist-length black/dark brown hair.

(She looked quite a bit like Crystal Gayle, though her eyebrows weren't quite so arched and her eyes a less intense blue.)

She was new in town, and she inquired about good colleges/universities in the area. Sheepish, I admitted I had no post-secondary education and so wasn't the most knowledgeable on the subject. She smiled and told me I was cute. I was touched, as no girl has ever complimented me on my looks.

At some point in the dream, I was either playing Star Fox on the SNES or was physically in the game. Either way, a variant of the "Out of this Dimension" stage was involved.

At another point in the dream, I was in the auditorium of a local college/university. Seated on the stage were two girls. One was a very tall, broad-shouldered, quite attractive redhead who wore her hair up. Beside her was a shorter, more slender blonde who wore her frizzy hair loose. I recognized both as students from my high school, both in grades higher than mine, who I was familiar with but had never actually been introduced to.

I was walking home when I came across a pack of apes and ape/dog hybrids who were smuggling loaves of bread. They attacked, latching onto and biting me.

 (The bites were painful, though they didn't manage to break the skin.)

As I lurched through the doorstep of my home, I found my parents entertaining guests, who just so happened to be the masters of these animals. Using a combination of whistles and sign language, they tried calling them off, to not effect. I soon freed myself of the brutes. One of the guests apologized for the creatures' behaviour. In a foul mood, I basically told him to go fuck himself.

As this was going down, Jordan Peterson was present, holding a lecture in my home. Still surly, of no mind to passively absorb his reactionary tripe, I essentially called him a double-talkin' jive motherfucker. Insulted, he left.

27 January 2020

Back to the Eighties

I travelled back in time to 1981. Somehow, my arrival caused a retrograde ripple effect, 'cause I found the 1981 I was in different from the one of the history books. Return of the Jedi had already been filmed and released; Pepsi came in bulbous, peanut-shaped bottles; and global warming had already reached 2020-level severity. For some reason, my physical form kept oscillating between that of Marty and Lorraine McFly.

The dream realigned. I was still in 1981, but I was in my own body and my mother was with me. We were walking through the crowded streets of a big city like Vancouver or Toronto, followed by an Indian woman who was literally just a head with two feet.

We tried to lose the walking head in the crowd, but she kept right behind us. She demanded my mother give her her clothes, so my mother kept stripping off articles of clothing and tossing them behind her.

The dream realigned again. Now I was now in my hometown, in the late '80s/early '90s. The landmarks were different, in keeping with me being in the past, though the architecture recalled the '50s rather than the '80s, with lots of neon-fronted shops.

Then I slipped further back in time, to the 1880s. The landmarks were really different now, the architecture looking straight out of Oz, with emerald green buildings. A train station stood where the local high school would stand inside a century. Beyond the station, where there are trees/hills in real life, was a sprawling sea.

05 January 2020

Mommy, Would You Like Some Sausage?/There Will Be Mermaids

A confession: I don't know how much longer this blog will continue. With my father's death, my mother's chronic hospitalization, my sister's breakup with her boyfriend, four months with a terrible roommate, and ongoing financial difficulties, 2019 was a terrible year for me. My ability to recall dreams has gone to shit this past year, no doubt due to all this stress. It's been over a month since I last recalled a dream in any detail, and even then it was hazy.

What follows are the last dreams I've had worth sharing. Unless my dream recollection improves, they may be the last ones you'll get to read for a long while.

* * *

I was standing in a room with a woman. The white walls were empty, blank save for blue light which created a gradient effect upon them. The woman was a lovely brunette, with long hair which trailed down her back. She was wearing a gray bathrobe. Loosening her robe, she let it down about her shoulders, exposing them to me. Leaning in close, I began kissing her graceful back and shoulders, slowly, tenderly.

Then I was suddenly in my basement. A man I didn't recognize was putting a damp, sausage-shaped pillow up on a line to dry. He told me the pillow represented loneliness and longing.

* * *

What follows is a fragment from a larger dream which, true to my luck, is mostly a blur now.

I was watching a deleted scene from There Will Be Blood. Daniel Plainview had sent his son, H. W., down into a great deep lake without diving gear to build his lung capacity. At the bottom of the lake was a submerged palace. While exploring inside, the kid encountered a mermaid. She was about his age, friendly, with black hair and a pretty smile. I think she had dark brown, almost black eyes and webbed hands, but I may be misremembering.

30 October 2019

No Dogs, No Masters/Witchspin/The Mutant Calicoes Beneath My Garage/Ghost Dad/And the Suns Became as Red as Blood ...

My mother and I joined a plethora of anarcho-communist/anarcho-syndicalist organizations, all of which catered to cat lovers in particular.

* * *

Had a bi/transerotic dream which included witches and werewolves in powdered wigs. I remember nothing coherent about it.

* * *

There was a hole in the floor of my garage. The hole led down to a cave/hollow beneath the foundation. All my cats which had gone missing over the years had gotten trapped down there, where they survived and bred. After nearly twenty years of inbreeding, they were almost all calicoes, and while a portion of them remained attractive animals, another portion was mutated/deformed; one cat had three heads, another had a teeny-tiny head as a result of getting their head permanently stuck in a bottle cap as a kitten.

* * *

The ghost of my father began manifesting about the house. He stayed in bed for the most part, sick as he had been in the months leading up to his death. Though he'd periodically talk to us, I got the sense that this was no sapient Earthbound spirit; this was just a spectral recording, a semi-interactive ectoplasmic hologram, and his true soul had moved on to the next phase of its existence.

* * *

I was in my kitchen, washing dishes, when the power went out. After about a minute, the overhead light came back on, but the rest of the house remained without electricity. I looked outside the window; the sky was black with thick cloud. Showing through this otherwise solid blanket of black, haloed in red, was not one, but two suns.

26 August 2019

Exsphinxtion/Up in (SUV) Smoke

I was taking a casual stroll, minding my own business, bothering nobody, when I crossed paths with a Greek sphinx.

She gave me a friendly smile, then proceeded to attack me. I took off running to get away from her, but she was incredibly swift, so I really had to pump those calves to keep ahead of her.

I soon came to a tall flight of dirt steps which led to a Greek temple. I ran up those dirt steps, telling myself not to look back, that if I looked back I'd see the sphinx right behind me, falter from fear, and be swiftly overtaken, so I forced myself to keep looking ahead.

Unbeknownst to me, the sphinx had circled around, and before I could reach the temple, she was before me, rearing up, ready to take me down with her claws. I tried warding her off with a baseball bat, but she was too massive and powerful; I was dead meat.

* * *

Just north of my house lies a large empty field. Seated inside my sister's F-150, I was parked on the edge of this field, just staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. That's when two SUVs came driving through, racing each other at breakneck speed. One of them passed too close, knicking a headlight. After the SUVs were past, I leapt out of the truck, yelling after the one who'd hit me. When I went to check the Ford for damage, I found it hadn't so much as a scrape, luckily.

A small pack of wild dogs came running past, following the SUVs. Fearful they'd get run over by those careless assholes, I followed them, trying to persuade them to leave the area. That's when I found amongst them Cheech, my dog who'd gone missing this April. Around his torso had been secured a plaid bandage. Apparently he hadn't been killed by coyotes as the family and I had believed, just injured then nursed back to health by some good Samaritan.

Getting my family to assist me, I picked Cheech up and carried him inside the house, taking care not to jostle him too much because he was still healing from his ordeal. At this point, I began suspecting what was happening wasn't real, just a dream. Then I awoke. Cheech is still gone, almost certainly dead, and I miss him.

R. I. P.


March/April 2004 — 25 April 2019