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.

Diabolical Death

Had quite the complicated dream. Most of the details have escaped me, but here’s what I recall:

I was a kid again. Me and the other children in my class had taken a field trip to some rural farmhouse while had lain abandoned since the '90s. The house was very strange; the front door and doggy door were in the shape of a human and dog, respectively, and there was this general atmosphere of foreboding localized over the property even though the weather was bright and clear.

I got separated from my classmates while exploring inside. That’s when I found a pantry door which had been nailed shut since the former occupant’s disappearance. I got the door open, and that’s when the former occupant — the undead, desiccated corpse of a rather rotund woman — lurched out of the pantry, arms outstretched for my throat.

I got a chainsaw and sawed her arms off.

That didn’t stop her; prehensile tentacles sprang from her arm stumps and ensnared me.

Somehow, I managed to maneuver the chainsaw into her mouth and promptly rammed it down her throat. That put an end to her right-quick.

I Can't Get No Satisfaction

I was invited to a party being held at a spacious mansion. Once I got in, I found I was one of hundreds of guests present. The door locked behind me, and I found I couldn’t escape the place. The hostess turned out to be the ghost of a woman who resembled Charlotte Rampling.

She kept her own perfectly preserved corpse strung up and used as a marionette.

I went up to the bar and ordered a glass of absinthe. Even though I was clearly thirty years old, the bartender refused to sell me any alcohol without first presenting ID. I didn’t have any ID on me, so the bartender refused to serve me the drink. I spent much of the rest of the dream wandering about the mansion in search of absinthe, but couldn’t procure any. I even came across someone else’s derelict glass of absinthe, but when I picked it up, it turned into a cup of coffee before my eyes. In between trying to satisfy my absinthe craving, I tried ordering White Russians as an alternative, much to the same degree of success.

At one point in the dream, I met Tori Amos, who got flirtatious with me. I repaid the favour, only to have her almost immediately sour towards me and ignore me henceforth.

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.

From the Dream Archives: Whoopi Goldberg, Nosferatu

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 2 MAY 2015)

Had a particularly creepy dream wherein I ventured into an ancient, dilapidated, moss-shrouded house,

wherein I was attacked and vampirized by a bloodsucker which looked like a dessicated Whoopi Goldberg.

*shudder*

If I ever realize my dream of becoming a filmmaker, I must make a short film based on this.

Watching '80s Horror Movies on VHS/A Chat with My Inner Spirit

I was watching B-grade horror movies from the '80s on VHS through an old CRT TV.

(By gum, those were the days.)

A young(er) Donald Trump appeared in the first movie I decided to watch, playing himself.

(Could he ever play different?)

He chastised a female character for finding religion, then began monologuing to himself on how he once sought belief in a higher power before deciding to believe in himself.

(What's that, subconscious mind? Donald Trump worships himself? I already knew that, but thanks for the info anyhow.)

Gears shifted and the second movie was on.

A small group of rich, spoiled teenagers/early twenty-somethings

decided to hold a séance in the last house remaining from a poor, decaying neighbourhood that was otherwise completely bulldozed over and replaced with brand spankin' new homes built for the rich decades ago.

Assembling at a large square table in a room located in the centre of the dark, decrepit building, they used florescent ink and florescent gas

as conjuring substances to summon forth a spirit of the house. Quite suddenly a short, squat woman with messy red hair, wild eyes, and an impossibly wide mouth materialized atop the table.

(Imagine a three-way cross between Fiona Dourif, Henrietta from Evil Dead II, and the Cheshire Cat and you get the unsettling picture.)

Scared shitless, they all bolted from the room. Some got lost in the dark trying to escape, but most managed to get out to safety. I don't know what became of those trapped in the house with the spirit made flesh.

(But really, I do.)

* * *

I was now in a sterile classroom, where a social worker

(who will now be played by the saucy Elisa Donovan)

gave me a list of outfits which could help me find a job to copy down. I tried writing down some of the addresses, but for some reason I couldn't concentrate on the words and failed to do so.

In a flash, I was then on the back porch of my house. I was there with the social worker, and she was trying to communicate with my inner spirit, which looked like a human-shaped bundle of dead leaves dressed in a blue vest.

(Close enough.)

When I told the social worker her presence wasn't helping, that my inner spirit wouldn't emerge with her standing around acting all demanding, she left.

Then my inner spirit took on its true form; it looked like a dirty Avery Brooks.

(Grime to be added in post-production.)

My inner spirit then began lamenting on how it — and by extension, I — should've married and had kids by now.

"On second thought, I shouldn't have driven the saucy redhead away."