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 came 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.

* * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 12 AUGUST 2013)

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.

Swedish Tongue/Back to the Dead/Burtonverse: The Special Edition

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.

*swoon*

* * *

In the near-future, the end times came upon us. The human birth rate had fallen to zero and the souls of the dead were no longer permitted to pass into the afterlife; they remained tethered to their decaying bodies, intelligent zombies which maintained an uneasy, sometimes hostile co-existence with the living population.

Marty McFly had developed an addiction to pizza; he ate multiple slices of pizza multiple times a day every day until he became obese, died of heart disease, and came back a zombie.

He continued eating pizza — old, dry, mouldy pizza topped with human skin.

* * *

Dreamt that I watched alternate cuts of the Tim Burton Batfilms which had been re-edited to better conform with the Schumacher films. Not only had a mention of the Riddler been inserted in Batman '89, but a new scene with Dick Grayson had been placed in Batman Returns; he was Vicki Vale's new boyfriend, and he was shown driving a shape-changing holographic car.

The dream ended on a mortifying note. In a Returns post-credits scene, the soul of the Penguin — reduced back to infancy, back in his gothic baby carriage — was sailing down the River Styx. As his androgynous soul made its voyage along those brown waters, the disembodied spectral head of Tim Curry materialized over it.

Looming large over the carriage, Tim Curry's disembodied head metamorphosed into the disembodied head of Pennywise the Clown, complete with large, burning red eyes. Looking directly at the viewer, me, he showed a ghastly grin of sharpened teeth. For several seconds I had no choice but to stare back into those hideous eyes before I forced myself awake.

A Nightmare on Shanks Road

It was the early 1980s and I met Heather Langenkamp/Nancy Thompson.

The dream proper was preceded by this random bit where I was chasing after a faux Heave-Ho.

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 to, 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. 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 think Wes Craven would've been proud of this dream.)

All the Dream World's a Stage...

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 the incomparable Lindsay Ellis)

was in/on this play/committee; my character quickly became smitten with 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.