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.

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.

Revamp of the Jedi/Cavewerewolf/Masters of the (Parallel) Universe/Tim Sizemore in "The Grave Stalker"/I, Norman Bates

Had myself a dream where I watched footage from an early cut of Return of the Jedi. Here’re the details I recall from the dream:

• Luke had a different lightsaber. It was mallet-shaped, with a red blade.
• There was a scene of Luke slaughtering Ewoks.
• The big plot twist wasn’t that Leia was Luke’s sister, but that Darth Vader was actually his grandfather. Luke’s actual father had never fallen to the dark side; he might not have ever even been a Jedi.
• “Anakin” was played by Mark Hamill himself.

Here’s what Mark looked like in the old-age makeup:

* * *

An archaic human

(a Cro-Magnon, a Neanderthal, or a hybrid between the two)

became a werewolf.

The details escape me, but he wasn’t an animalistic killing machine; he retained his human intelligence and used his lycanthropy only in defense of his tribe.

* * *

Godlike entities transported myself and a number of other individuals to another planet/universe. Once there, we became overlords in possession of advanced technology.

I befriended one of my fellow overlords

(She resembled Suzanne Vega, but was curvier.)

and began hanging out at her citadel/supermarket, where I drank an entire pitcher of ice-cold milk which was just divine. She and I eventually entered into an intense romantic/sexual relationship.

Then she, I, and the other overlords were transported back to Earth, along with our advanced citadels.

* * *

I watched a horror/thriller starring Tom Sizemore.

Sizemore’s character was a real piece of nasty work; he volunteered at a soup kitchen only to deliberately contaminate the food with soap, rancid fat, and other unmentionables; he was a grave robber; and it was heavily implied he was a sexual predator who had molested his own daughter.

As I recall, the plot was about him stalking a beautiful woman who happened to live next door to his favourite cemetery.

* * *

Norman Bates and I had been combined into a single person living during the early '80s.

I wish I could describe this dream in detail, but it’s too convoluted to make sense of. All I can say with certainty is that the mummified corpses of Norma Bates and one of my victims looked incredibly cheap — like “gray alien rag doll” cheap.

Also, Susan Clark made an appearance.

Russian Drug-Trafficking Ponies vs. Yog-Sothoth/The Lady Vanishes/Wet Fever Dream

I got mixed up with a small group of Russian drug traffickers operating out of some snowbound region north of the tree line.

Bryan Adams was a social studies instructor, the ringleader of the traffickers, or both. They were trafficking blue crystal meth à la Breaking Bad.

The traffickers invited me to an orgy. One of the Russians, a 40-something blonde with a nice rump, offered said rump to me.

*↑*

But the orgy was taking place in a small, crapped office with garbage strewn everywhere; my libido was swiftly overtaken by disgust and I couldn’t stand to linger there, so I got the hell out.

*↓*

The traffickers transformed into MLP-style ponies.

A Lovecraftian deity – probably Yog-Sothoth – showed up and consumed the traffickers.

* * *

Andrea Nemeth

and I were each other’s first, true loves. Though we’d been separated at some point in our early teens, we managed to reconnect through the Internet during the late 2000s. Then around 2008, she vanished abruptly. She ceased sending me e-mails and her presence online became nil.

The only physical clue I had to the cause of her disappearance was a case of insulin vials.

For the next several years, I tried figuring out what happened to her. I got nowhere.

* * *

It was frigid and snowing outside. I had come down with a cold, and I was so physically weak that I kept falling over on my face, nearly paralyzed. At some point, I had a fever dream within a dream that I was clumsily trying to make love to a middle aged woman with long, straight, raven-black hair.

The New Librarian/Nic Olié/So-Called Chaos

I paid a visit to my local library. While at the check-out counter, I saw a new librarian had been brought on staff. She was five-to-ten years younger than I and rather short, only in the neighbourhood of five-feet tall. She wore her ash blond hair short and feathered, and her eyes were blue and watery. She wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but certainly pretty. She was wearing a gray-and-cream striped T-shirt which really hugged her modest but perky chest.

We got to talking. That’s when she made it clear to me in no uncertain terms that if we weren’t in such a public place, she’d jump my bones right then and there. We made arrangements to meet somewhere after she got off of work to fool around.

I got the sense this woman was going to be nothing but One Night at McCool’s-style trouble.

* * *

I watched a version of The Phantom Menace where Ric Olié was played by Nicolas Cage instead of Ralph Brown.

“The deflector shield is too strong! Oh no not the blasters! Not the blasters! AHH they’re in my eyes!! My EYES!! AHHHHHHH!!!”

* * *

Dreamed that Alanis Morissette, nude save for a pair of panties she’d bought from Sears, had covered herself head-to-toe in red body paint.

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: 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. 😣)

From the Dream Archives: Cousin Sonja: Sorceress Seductress Supreme/Hell Hath No Fury Like a Lycanthrope Scorned/American Revenant/Attack of the Mutant Leaky-Ceiling Yellow Jackets/Leave Michael & Heather Alone/Giorgio Tsoukalos Combs His Hair

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 30 AUGUST 2015)

Had a particularly disconcerting dream where I lost my virginity to a Russian first cousin named Sonja.

I must have been an inglorious lover, 'cause she turned out to be a vindictive witch — literally. She conjured vicious mountain lions up before me and caused the local clinic doctors to be dangerously unsanitary.

Suffice to say, I enjoyed the first half of the dream. The second, not so much.

* * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 2 DECEMBER 2015)

Had a peculiar dream wherein I was a character in a horror film.

If I recall the sequence of events correctly, my reluctant werewolf ex-lover betrayed me to her extended family of loup-garou. They promptly slaughtered me.

* * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 14 DECEMBER 2015)

A word to the wise: Don't stay up to 8:00 AM. If you do, you're liable to have nightmares about being strangled by a putrescent, undead Patrick Bateman.

* * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 4 MAY 2016)

Was woken this morning by a somewhat disturbing dream.

In my dream, after having jets of rancid rainwater wash over my face from my leaky bedroom ceiling,

more of the ceiling caved in, revealing giant yellow jacket nests in the rafters above.

(And I don't just mean that the nests were gigantic; the wasps themselves were supersized.)

I think my subconscious is trying to tell me that I utterly loathe my bedroom and yellow jackets. 

(Why it bothered, I'll never know. I was already consciously aware of my hatred for both.)

* * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 15 MAY 2016)

Dreamt that a young Michael Jackson

(Okay, not this young.)

and Heather Langenkamp

*swoon*

starred in a movie together, playing lovers caught in a Romeo & Juliet-type situation. The dream/movie even came complete with a version of Jackson's "Leave Me Alone" music video co-starring Ms. Langenkamp. Clancy Brown was cast as the main villain,

(Surprise, surprise.)

with Jack Purvis and a dwarf version of Jean Smart in supporting roles.

 * * *

(ORIGINAL ENTRY DATE: 12 JUNE 2016)

Dreamt a dream wherein I was a teenage student in a high school science class. Giorgio Tsoukalos was brought in as a guest speaker.

(Oddly enough, his hair was combed and neat.)