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.

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.

The Infamous Lake Country Wildfire of '17

I, my parents, and my sister were out visiting neighbours when a wildfire sparked off to the east of us. It was so intense, it sent a veritable pillar of flame into the sky, a thick blanket of gray smoke unfurling to cover the firmament. The fire was very close — several hundred metres away at most — and due to its ferocity, it was believed it would grow beyond control and overtake our homes before fire fighters could arrive to contain it.

Fearful for the fates of my pets and belongings, against the warnings of all others, I took off in a dead run for home to collect who and what I could in the short time allotted. Something then happened to me, something which knocked me out cold. When I came to in the hospital, weeks had gone by. From my family, I learned that our home had been caught in the fire; all our possessions had been destroyed and one of our dogs had died.

The dream then jumped forward in time ten or twenty years. I found myself cutting across the grounds of the UBC Okanagan campus, where I crossed paths with one of the female students.

(She was the spitting image of Keegan Connor Tracy.)

I inquired if she knew of the infamous Lake Country Wildfire of '17; she said she did. I then asked her if she'd like to come with me to visit the old neighbourhood; she said she did. Together, we made the trip on-foot to my old neighbourhood. The townscape had transformed considerably since the 2010s. For example, where there had once been a small church now stood a series of Arby's restaurants.

(Arby's had transitioned from a chain of sandwich restaurants to a Dairy Queen clone in the intervening decades.)

Arriving on the site of where my house had stood, we found no remaining trace of it. In its stead were several white houses and sheds, some enveloped in clear plastic, all smouldering. There was even a Chow Chow lying on a front yard who was ashy and smoky.

(He was alive and uninjured in spite of this (I suppose some dogs are just more fire-retardant than others.).).

My companion pondered on how the area could still be smouldering after all these years; I gave an existential answer about how the location still retained the memory of that fire in its soil or something poetic like that, but I knew what was happening was truly the direct result of a recent wildfire.