Me & Mia Malkova/My Uncle's Antique Typewriter/Son of Tales from the Gimpy Hospital

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.

* * *

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 in his possession an antique typewriter from 1908.

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.

* * *

In my original bedroom, 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 yellowjackets entering through the spaces in the gauzy white curtain.

For some reason or other, my parents wanted me to visit the hospital, 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; D

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.

From the Dream Archives: D & the Wolf

I meant to post this on the 19th, the 2nd anniversary of this blog's existence, but time got away from me and I plumb forgot. 😞

Anyway, this'll be the final entry from the dream archives, as it's the last dream I recorded prior to my turning this blog into an on-line dream journal. It's a good one, too — a perfect subconscious rendering of my scarred psyche.

* * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 20 NOVEMBER 2016)

I don't remember how the dream started, but the earliest part I remember was taking a trip to D's university. For reasons unrevealed to me, a party was being hosted there in her honour, with lots of balloons and confetti and friends and family and acquaintances.

I arrived there looking particularly disconcerting, dressed only in a loincloth, my hair long and unkempt, rockin' the Kubrick Stare. I tried gaining access to the party, but D ordered me kept out. As they tried shutting the door on me, I wedged my shoulder in the door. I can't remember if I begged her to let me in or not, but as I was slowly pushed back out, she stared hard at me. Wearing a humourless grin, she told me I'd never ever be allowed to see her again or get to be a part of her extended family.

Locked out of the party, I then suffered a complete psychological breakdown. Losing all sense of reality, the entire world dissolved around me into amorphous shapes and swirling colours.

With there being a psychiatric ward at the university, I decided to commit myself. The doctor who saw me was a black man, kind of roly-poly; I think he was patterned off of Paul Winfield.

I was then somehow out of the ward and away from the university, where I encountered a pretty, petite brunette. She sported shoulder-length hair and was wearing form-fitting red-and-black clothes.

(She looked much like the girl at top, dressed in the outfit at bottom, with the aforementioned shoulder-length hair.)

She wanted me to do her right there and then against the wall. As we got going, I began my transformation into the Wolf. The personification of all the secret, base desires I keep bottled up inside, the Wolf didn't just want to screw this woman's brains out figuratively, but literally. It wanted to take all my misery and rage and hate against the world out on her, to tear her to spreads and bathe in her blood.

(Scarred psyche indeed.)

Fighting against my escalating impulses, holding desperately onto my humanity, I pulled out and away from her and quickly left before I lost myself to the animal within. Returning to the ward, I had the doctor lock me back up. Now in a secure cell, the Wolf retreated, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief.

The dream ended there.

From the Dream Archives: Independence Day: The Series/D Dream #1/D Dream #2/D Dream #3/Jennifer Lawrence vs. My Family

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 9 OCTOBER 2016)

Had a dream that the powers-that-be made an Independence Day TV series.

(The weirdest thing about it was that Ripley from the Alien films and Ka D’Argo and his son, Jothee, from Farscape were all major characters in it.)

* * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 10 OCTOBER 2016)

Had more dreams about returning to high school and searching about for D without any success.

My subconscious sucks.

* * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 13 OCTOBER 2016)

Dreamt that I was dead, a ghost, trapped within the walls of a 17th century palace. D was there, as vibrant with life as ever, and I attempted communication with her, doing everything I could think to do to get her to notice me. Try as I might, she couldn’t/wouldn’t see/hear me.

My subconscious is an asshole.

* * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 15 OCTOBER 2016)

Finally had a dream which wasn’t depressing.

Trying to describe it isn’t all that easy. All I can say is that it was filled with imagery from my home town, permeated with a distinct '90s atmosphere, had locomotives, some posh-looking scientist who looked like a cross between the Monopoly guy and Col. Sanders, and was completely disjointed.

This is also the first dream I recall ever having that was anywhere near being a lucid dream. There was a point in the proceedings of the dream where everything became very realistic — the colours and textures took on an almost life-like quality — and I willed D to appear. I didn’t want her to appear as she has been appearing in my last couple dreams — largely unseen, distant, and afraid of me — but as someone who loved me and cared about me. So she appeared, a broad smile across her face, and we embraced.

* * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 21 OCTOBER 2016)

Dreamt that I was in a burgeoning yet troubled romance with Jennifer Lawrence.

For reasons unknown to me, Ms. Lawrence decided to leave her life as a successful and wealthy actress and move in with me and my family. Though we had lots of chemistry —

(We did lots of smooching and cuddling and talking.)

— having to suffer the overbearing crassness and ignorance of my father and sister was placing undue stress on her; she was all but ready to move out. This frightened me, 'cause if she left, I would be unable to go with her and would lose her forever.

The dream then came to an abrupt end with my father telling me to harvest two cucumbers, one of which had been partially devoured by, and covered in, yellow jackets.

Though it was bittersweet and went unresolved, this was one of the best dreams I’ve had in a while.

My Pyrokinetic, Mass-Murdering Surrogate Son

The following is quite possibly the most visceral, heartwrenching dream I've ever had. As such, I'd like to go in-depth relating its sequence of events. However, a month has passed since I had this specific dream, relegating the minutiae to Hypnos' dustbin. Hence I'm forced to defer to brevity in this instance.

D

and Laura Bertram

were combined into a single woman.

(I shall call her "Launia".)

Launia and I were soulmates, yet not lovers.

Launia married Ricky Mabe.

Together they had a son. This son, whom I loved as if he were my own, grew up to become a pyrokinetic mass murderer.

Various Marvel superheroes were out to capture him.

(They will succeed. They always do.)

From the Dream Archives: Let's Carve Ourselves a Witch, Son/Love Bus Stop

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 30 JUNE 2016)

I took a nap today, ended up having a most memorable dream.

It began with me hanging out with my son. He was three or four and looked like Robert Sean Leonard.

I was feeling joyous, happy 'cause I knew this meant I was married. Though she didn't make an appearance in the dream,

I knew right away who my wife was.

Then the dream turned strange. A witch showed up, threatening to harm my son. At that point I transformed into Ash from the Evil Dead series.

I picked up an old musket with a bayonet attached at the end, stabbed the witch through the eye and out the back of her head, pinning her to the wall behind her. That's when a second Ash showed up

and began dismembering her with a chainsaw.

The dream then realigned.

I found myself a teenager back in high school. As I got off the bus at school, there was this incredibly hot girl standing there on the sidewalk. She was brunette or dark blonde, moderately muscular, clad in a tank top and jean cutoffs.

"YOWZA!"

I sat down with her on the pavement and began feeling her up. Just when we were preparing to undress and have sex right then and there in public, my psychological V-chip engaged and the dream drew to a climax.

(But I didn't. 😣)

The Mistitled Children's Book/The Unmarried Couple w. Kid vs. The Gaudy Pimp/The Visit to the Liquor Store\Comic Shop

A girl I knew and had feelings for in high school agreed to help me write a children's book titled The Youngest Hippopotamus.

(The girl — lets call her "D" — is one of the four girls in this artful photo manipulation created by yours truly.)

D had met me on the front porch of my house to discuss the book. When she asked me what the book was about, I told her it was about a superhero who fights two Green Goblin-esque supervillains.

('Cause when you think The Youngest Hippopotamus, the first thing that comes to mind is some guy in spandex fighting two clowns dressed like this.)

When she essentially asked me if I had pulled that plot out of my ass, I admitted that that was the case and we both had a chuckle over it.

Growing serious, she then made it clear in no uncertain terms to me that our collaboration was strictly platonic, that nothing romantic was going to come out of this. I told her I already knew and understood this, that I was content just having her in my life as a friend.

While this was going on, my sister was watching us through a window, making stupid kissy faces and such. She then came out of the house and began skulking about, disturbing us. I told D that she always pulls this kind of garbage, that I can never relax when she's around. This turn of events upset D, and the camaraderie we had been enjoying was broken.

Before the dream could unfold further, I woke up.

(I blame the goddamn cat who was trying to smother me in my sleep.)

* * *

I often have recurring dreams about going back to high school; either it's to suffer being the only twenty-something student there and/or it's to go in search of someone or something I desperately want to find (but usually won't).

(Oh, bane of my dreams, how I hex you,)

This time, however, I was just visiting the place. There, I met some woman — a plump, plain-looking woman with short blond hair.

(Picture the fat lady on the left wearing the glasses of the fat lady on the right, and you're got yourself a decent enough picture of what she looked like, sir-or-madam.)

She was a charity worker, and for some unrevealed (or forgotten) reason I joined up with her operation. This led me into various crime-ridden neighbourhoods to help out the unfortunates living there.

This dream then came to focus upon an unmarried black couple with a young son.

(Will Smith was the boyfriend/father.)

Destitute, they were forced to live in a crappy apartment without any heating. This caused them nearly to freeze to death every cold winter night. On one of these winter nights, one of their neighbours — a gaudy pimp — was having a party, playing loud, atonal rap music which could be heard throughout the entire block.

Suffering from the cold, this noise only added to the couple's frustration. Getting up to the window, they yelled out to the pimp to turn the noise down. The pimp, unremarkably a prick, refused to comply.

* * *

A friend wanted to buy a rare issue of a comic magazine

(I think it was Heavy Metal.)

that came inside a cardboard slipcase. Going to a liquor store/comic shop,

(His favourite place to be.)

this friend found an exact copy of that particular issue but didn't have the money to buy it. Deciding to pitch in, I went to the liquor store/comic shop and offered to buy the magazine myself as a present for my friend. As I was giving the seedy shopkeeper the cash, though, I found the last few bills needed to complete the transaction torn in half.

(Cheap plastic Canadian cash.)

With me unable to pay him all the money, the shopkeeper gave me this offer: He'd give me the magazine if I'd cook meth for him. It didn't have to be high-quality blue stuff like the kind on Breaking Bad; he'd settle for the cheapest garbage I could cook up. I agreed to the deal.