Tell Me Your Dreams!

Yeah. You read right. This is for everything that doesn't have anything to do with Eva.

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MugwumpHasNoLiver
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Postby MugwumpHasNoLiver » Sun Aug 07, 2011 10:49 am

That was the single most beautiful dream you've ever shared, Lil. Everything about it was perfect. The mood was like a diamond ring piercing my heart. I teared up at the end. Thank you so much for sharing it.

Makes me wish mine didn't suck so much.

/////////

Yahtzee, the Escapist's game critic, is leading a Seventh Seal style dance of death march past the banks of a stagnant creek. Men dressed as Spider-Man are chained to lead weights, and left in the water, as it slowly fills up. Their head's jerk and twitch above the surface, raising skyward, but their bodies do not budge. I walk down the sandy slopes, and cot the underwater chains with a machete. I'm carefully not to let anybody see me. I keep swimming with the current, so I don't draw attention to myself. The next Spider Man should be on another sandy hill, but there's a school bus underwater, and his arm is sticking out from beneath it. I lop his arm off with the blade, and see if that accomplishes anything ... It doesn't. The march seems to have moved on. I can barely hear it. I swim up into the base of a tree, and find the secret Spider-Man with a "13" embroidered on his forehead. When I stab him with the knife, right through the eye-socket, I'm afraid that I might die too, because he represents me, the player character.

When I walk up the bank of the river, I'm in the upstairs hallway of my house, and my thirteen year old brother is playing Goldeneye on the mirror in the hallway. He's wielding two golden guns and missing every bright red and green man who runs up to him. There's an antique clock in the living room exactly where the last dead Spider-Man would be if the living room was transposed over the lake. Inside, there's a miniature clock by the gears, When you adjust the big clock to read what the little clock says, a secret compartment opens to reveal a an ancient packet of gelatinous blue soy sauce.

When I go down he back stairs, there's an ancient Mongolian temple made of black rock, and a mummified king is trying to reclaim the soy sauce. He tricks his soldiers into standing on stone daises that pull apart, and syringes mounted on metal arms shoot out. Black liquid fills up their necks untl their bodies are swollen, and warped, and then a wave of fire washes over them, and they're covered in stone armor with glowing eyes.

Next thing I know, there's some kind f fair going on in my backyard. The garden by my grandmother's back deck, is a dirt through, and people keep dropping electronics inside it. I ignore old paces and cell phones, but pick up three different voice recorders. When I walk up to the front porch, Lady Gaga is singing "You and I" to my grandfather and playing an invisible piano. It was bright day when I was in the back, but it's dark now. She's wearing a form-fitting black lattice dress with a floral pattern, and she has pale green hair. I want to ask if I can take a picture with her, but there's already a professional photographer here, and he's probably going to charge for prints. My grandpa goes inside to get a light for the photographer, and when he comes back, suggest we take pictures on the stairs instead of against the wall, because it will be more iconic. I try to adjust the light on the sidewalk, but there seems to be a slant, and it keeps rolling back. I try to pile on bricks from under the adjacent bush, and form a stopper, but they're not strong enough. Gaga is sitting there looking very impatient. She tries to pull the light towards her, but I push it at the same time, and it moves too fast and bangs her finger. I apologize, but she still looks annoyed. I try to fix the light then, but I somehow accidentally throw a burst of blinding light right into her eyes. I give up on getting a picture with her now, because I'm sure she hates me. This guy I knew from high school, who ran tack, and I kind of had a thing for, shows up to get his mom, which is odd, because his mom is black, and he's Mexican. Gaga leaves, and everyone waves her good-bye. She hugs my grandpa, and that's the end of that.
"Now, from Nature we obtain abundant information about ourselves, and precious little about others. About the woman you clasp in your arms, can you say with certainty that she does not feign pleasure? About the woman you mistreat, are you quite sure that from abuse she does not derive some obscure and lascivious satisfaction? Let us confine ourselves to simple evidence: through thoughtfulness, gentleness, concern for the feelings of others we saddle our own pleasure with restrictions, and make this sacrifice to obtain a doubtful result." -The Divine Marquis

"I agree Hans, but we have talked about those anal fisting analogies." -Werner Herzog

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Postby child of Lilith » Sun Aug 07, 2011 3:59 pm

View Original PostMugwumpHasNoLiver wrote:That was the single most beautiful dream you've ever shared, Lil. Everything about it was perfect. The mood was like a diamond ring piercing my heart. I teared up at the end. Thank you so much for sharing it.
I'm very pleased you enjoyed it so much, Mugwump. It's nice knowing the effort I put into writing it wasn't wasted. I'd agree it's probably my best dream post.

Makes me wish mine didn't suck so much.
Don't sell yourself so short, Mugwump. Not when you have at least one constant reader.

I rather liked the end of your dream better then the beginning. All the stuff with Lady Gaga was interesting. The part where you try to set the light up was probably my favorite part. I also found it sad you didn't get a hug. :(

I am wondering what's up with all the spider man stuff in the beginning. It just seems so random.
"Let the right one in. Let the old dreams die. Let the wrong ones go. They cannot do, what you want them to do."- Morrissey, Let the Right One Slip In

"Happy people can be so cruel"- Claudia, Silent Hill 3

"everlasting, true love, I am yours"- Rule of Rose

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Postby MugwumpHasNoLiver » Wed Aug 17, 2011 3:59 am

View Original Postchild of Lilith wrote:I'm very pleased you enjoyed it so much, Mugwump. It's nice knowing the effort I put into writing it wasn't wasted.


As long as I'm around, your effort will never be wasted. :D

I am wondering what's up with all the spider man stuff in the beginning. It just seems so random.


Fuck, I think at the time I had a possible origin for it, but I can't for the life of me remember what it is anymore. Eh, probably wasn't that interesting.

/////////

I'm watching someody play Quake 64 and they're going through level one with alarming speed. It's this sand colored bunker with red highlights and walls of blue green computer pixels. This guy playing shoots a wall within a secret area and finds another secret area. He goes high above the level in this tiny bronze hallway and comes out at the very top in a secret exit. I never recall this being here, but there were secret shortcuts in Quake, so it makes sense. He's high up above chapter two, "The Castle". There's a long strip of land hld up by diagonal pillars, but he falls off the side.

The next thing I know, I"m falling through darkness, and collapse against the black street right on my knees. I stand up, my body heavy with sleeplessness. It's after midnight, and I'm blocks from my house, in West Lawn. It's on the other side of Pulaski, the busy street, and once you're over here, the grass is literally greener. That street separates the psuedo-suburbs from the pseudo-ghetto. Naturally, all the little teenagers who live over here intentionally act up to overcompensate for the lack of squalor.

I stumble forward, and almost fall back down. I hobble towards a street lamp and lie there because I can barely stand. I see a police car drive by. At first I wonder if they'll arrest me, or help me, but they don't stop, so I pay them no attention. I walk, and I think I see Lee School, but it changes at the last second, and becomes St. Mary's, which is a few blocks farther. That's more walking for me.

But when I"m inside, it's this large library lobby, and I come out of a basement and everything is colored in amber arabesques of wallpaper and soft gold light. An old woman works there, and she has my cat, Abbey, who is white and gray. I want to take her with me, back to my house, but she has to stay here. When I walk through the front doors, I'm at Pulaski, and I cross the street with ease. On the other side, Abbey is running around by herself. Ah, but this isn't the same one, this is a duplicate. She looks like her in every way, so I can take this one home with me. I pick her up, but she wriggles out of my arms. She doesn't want to go home with me.

Halfway down the next block, I hear the deafening opening to "In the Flesh?'' the first track on Pink Floyd's The Wall. My God. I just remembered. I left my copy back at the library. But I can't go back now, I'm much too tired, and it's too late. But how am I hearing it? There's no possible way that I could hear it from all the way over here, that's impossible. But it's so loud, it must be close by. There, by the corner, is my dad's convertible, parked on this side of the street, facing the white hous that's now been pointed blue. There is a speaker and stereo system blacking off the trunk. When I walk up to the stereo the music becomes quieter. It wasn't playing a few seconds before, but now the music is coming out of this stereo. I eject the disc, and there it is ... Disc 2 of The Wall.

How could this possibly have happened? I walk up to my front porch, and stick the disc into my dad's work stereo. I walk upstairs, to the stereo in the bathroom, and press 'eject'. The same disc comes out there. No matter where I go, this disc will start playing on the closest stereo. It must transport itself somehow, because the only other supranational is that every stereo, in the world is connected by some vast underground network, and one magic CD seems more likely. I play the CD again, and I run into the living room. I try to tell my father about the magic CD, but when I eject the living room CD player, it doesn't come out.
"Now, from Nature we obtain abundant information about ourselves, and precious little about others. About the woman you clasp in your arms, can you say with certainty that she does not feign pleasure? About the woman you mistreat, are you quite sure that from abuse she does not derive some obscure and lascivious satisfaction? Let us confine ourselves to simple evidence: through thoughtfulness, gentleness, concern for the feelings of others we saddle our own pleasure with restrictions, and make this sacrifice to obtain a doubtful result." -The Divine Marquis

"I agree Hans, but we have talked about those anal fisting analogies." -Werner Herzog

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Postby CorporalChaos » Wed Aug 17, 2011 12:40 pm

I had two of my odd recurring dreams last night. They're really short.

Look down at my feet. My big toes are on the outside of my feet.


Later...

Trying to run uphill, but the faster I try to run, the more I slow down, to the point of running slower than walking speed.
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Postby child of Lilith » Wed Aug 17, 2011 2:05 pm

Pretty good dream, Mugwump. The magic CD thing was cool, but then this happened. . .
I try to tell my father about the magic CD, but when I eject the living room CD player, it doesn't come out.
This seems to happen a lot in your dreams. You'r always getting thwarted in some way. Is there any real world relevance to this?

Edit:I don't remember much of this dream, so I'll focus on the important parts I do remember.
A date to remember  SPOILER: Show
I’m setting in the gym of my old elementary school watching something being preformed on stage. I think it’s a play the school is putting on but I’m not sure. I look around me and see the place is packed. It looks like the parents of every student decided to watch this thing. I take a look to my right and she’s sitting there. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I don’t know here name or even how we first met, all I know is she has decided to be with me and that’s good enough for me. When she notices me looking at her she gifts me with a lumines smile that strikes me right to my core. I realize I don’t want to be here. Not in this stupid gym watching this stupid play, and certainly not surrounded by all these damn people. I want to take her and get the hell out of there; anywhere would be better then this place. I take her by the hand and we leave.

We are walking towards the parking lot and something is wrong. Try as I might I keep nearly knocking her down or bringing her up short as we walk towards my car. I feel like a big dumb ox trying not to step on the rabbit I just stumbled upon. After a few more minuets of fucking up I can see she’s staring to get upset with me. I flash her a sick smile trying desperately to smooth things over, all the while cringing inwardly with the fear she’s going to get fed up and storm off. And for a moment it looks like that’s exactly what’s going to happen. She drops my hand and runs a few feet ahead and stops. She turns around to face me, her gaze fixed on the ground. I’m freaking out. Convinced she’s about to tell me off. But when she finally looks up at me I see an impish little smile on her face. It takes me a second to realize she’s telling me it’s ok. She’s not mad at my ineptness and isn’t going to run off and leave me standing there in the parking lot looking like a fool. To say I’m glad would be an extreme understatement. This time she takes me by the hand and pulls me along. It seems she wants to make a stop before we leave the school. I’m more then willing to go along with what ever she wants.

Our little detour ends at the schools playground. We walk around looking at all the playground equipment before deciding to give the swings a try. We swing for a bit before she gets tired of it and decides she wants to try climbing up on the monkey bars. She wants me to go with her but I shake my head and smile, indicating she should go ahead without me. I’ll just stay here on the swing and watch. It would be a little to embarrassing for me to go climbing up there at my age. She reaches the top, and smiling, waves at me. I wave back, glad she’s happy, but hoping like hell she doesn’t fall and hurt herself. She sits down on top the monkey bars and gazes out towards the far side of the playground, watching as the sun begins to go down and the shadows lengthen with the approach of night. I watch her watching the sky, and I’m suddenly overcome with a wave of sorrow and grief. As it smashes into me I come to the realization it’s been there from the begging. The whole time we’ve been at the school those feelings were in the background, circling me like hunger sharks waiting for a chance to strike. I’m going to loose her. Whatever time she and I have together is going to come to and sudden and awful end, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Whatever’s coming is beyond my ability to change or alter in any way. It’s fate. And when it arrives it will take her, leaving me with nothing.

I pull myself together with a start. I look about myself wildly, seeing that while I was preoccupied twilight has come and full dark is only a short time away. I look to the monkey bars, my insides knotted together, hoping like mad she’s still there. That whatever is coming didn’t arrive while I was stupidly spacing out on the swings. For a moment I can’t tell. The monkey bars are just on the extreme edge of how far I can see in the fading light, so at first I can’t tell for sure if anyone is still there. I look harder, and yes, she is still sitting up there. Still looking out towards where the sun has so recently set. I breathe a sigh of relief, and smile and wave at her. She doesn’t wave back. I stop, the smile freezing on my face. Is that her? Am I sure it’s really her up there? I stand there unsure of what to do. After a what seems like forever, but was probably only a few moments, I gather my courage and decide to go over there and see for myself who or what is sitting up there. As I walk the last of the light dies and the first stars being to come out. I really hope it’s her up there. I really do. Because if it’s not, I really have no idea what I’m going to do...
"Let the right one in. Let the old dreams die. Let the wrong ones go. They cannot do, what you want them to do."- Morrissey, Let the Right One Slip In

"Happy people can be so cruel"- Claudia, Silent Hill 3

"everlasting, true love, I am yours"- Rule of Rose

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Postby Dirty Mick » Fri Aug 19, 2011 6:04 am

When I go down he back stairs, there's an ancient Mongolian temple made of black rock, and a mummified king is trying to reclaim the soy sauce. He tricks his soldiers into standing on stone daises that pull apart, and syringes mounted on metal arms shoot out. Black liquid fills up their necks untl their bodies are swollen, and warped, and then a wave of fire washes over them, and they're covered in stone armor with glowing eyes.

That's just crazy awesome.

I just moved into an apartment with my dad which looks a lot like mine in real life but somehow bigger. The dream one is located in what looks like a low income neighborhood with small homes placed around a dirty road with no way out. The apartment itself is on a second floor and you can see the folks thru the stairway.

So I'm taking the trash out in the dead of night when I see a pale figure bust out of a small straw hut with an oversized electric guitar, play a couple chords then rush back. It keeps doing this and speeds up to only its hands are sticking out of the door. I talk to some shadowy figure then it's the next day and I'm staring at the hut figure from my room. I try to get inside it, but the door is locked. Someone sick’s a dragon on it, but the dragon can't get inside either. I didn't see the hut person after that.

That night, my dad thinks the building is haunted and we move into one of the small buildings. There's at least 5 people living in this thing, with 2 rooms on the bottom floor and 2 on top. Dad goes to investigate the apartment (?), and I start chatting with the people there. I go outside and talk to the guy who was living under me, and watch the Aurora Borealis that can be seen in a forested area. He goes toward the building he's living in and says he's going to the store that set up shop in the said building. He has nasty two puss filled on the back of his head and I woke up.

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Postby Defectron » Sat Aug 20, 2011 11:26 am

Oh god I've been spending too much time on ponychan :fuyu_facepalm:

I dreampt I was rainbowdash from mlp fim and had lesbian sex with one of the other ponys. I don't even think of the ponys that way, no I'm not just lying to myself about this either, because after that I had to make sure and I couldn't get off to them. So what is this dream, I don't even...
Parasite Galaxy: An experimental webcomic

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Postby Xard » Sat Aug 20, 2011 12:40 pm

View Original PostDefectron wrote:Oh god I've been spending too much time on ponychan :fuyu_facepalm:

I dreampt I was rainbowdash from mlp fim and had lesbian sex with one of the other ponys. I don't even think of the ponys that way, no I'm not just lying to myself about this either, because after that I had to make sure and I couldn't get off to them. So what is this dream, I don't even...


[URL=http://img30.imageshack.us/i/r10d.jpg/]Image[/URL]

yeah keep telling yourself that!

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So who wants to buy the movie rights?

Postby Killer Bee » Mon Aug 22, 2011 12:24 am

hey

hey guys

listen

guys

I just had the most awesome dream.

I dreamed I was in Chicago (NYC maybe? I dunno, a big city) trying to spread the gospel of lolicon. I acted like I was Batman but was actually dressed like an urban hipster and could fly around the city by holding open my cape (which looked less like a cape and more like a certain picture of Mio Akiyama; you know the one). But in order to win over the city with my promises of underage 2D girls, I had to defeat my arch nemesis Professor Moriarty and his army of dragons. After beating up some of his goons I infiltrated his manor and then he beat me up and was about to deliver the finishing blow. But Moriarty didn't know that I had befriended a dragon myself by freeing it from a chunk of magic ice, and my dragon gave me Super Magical Armor at the last moment which reflected Moriarty's attack back at him.

And then I woke up.

Also, Moriarty was played by Robert Downey Jr. which I thought was funny in an [s:gcfpwgjw]erotic[/s:gcfpwgjw] ironic sort of way.

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Postby MugwumpHasNoLiver » Thu Sep 08, 2011 3:21 pm

child of Lilith wrote:I don't remember much of this dream, so I'll focus on the important parts I do remember.


That was a beautiful dream. What did she look like? I see you posted it awhile ago, os sorry it took so long to respond.

/////////

#1: I'm in my living room. There's a casket with a dead person and a velociraptor inside. I can see it's carniverous green eye follow me as I hide in the next room beside a fence.

#2: Benny came back inside, and he looks very healthy. I knew that he just needed a few days to play and eat and he'd get better.

#3: I'm walking down the street, wondering if I'm still dreaming. The lawns are oddly manicured, everyone is staring at me, and there are bronze plaques with an illegible language carved into them posted all over the street. When I get to the viaduct I fall off the ground and float through the air. Over the train tracks, I don't see houses, but cast'-iron shelves loaded with old electronics and boxes. They're all torn open and spewing fog over everything. I follow the voice of a film critic into an alley that looks like a carpeted hallway and there's a fluffy orange kitten that doesn't really exist. It's a program created by the game. It speaks in a squeaky voice, saying "no, no" cuts into my arms and disappears under the bed.

There are bad jokes carved into the bathroom floor. They look like indentations left in wet cement.

The skies were grey and my mother, who was a very important person for some reason had been found dead the night before. My backyard is a marsh of brittle, decaying leaves and trees hanging as globs of torn viscera over black steel railings and fences. As I walk up the wooden back stairs to my red sided house, there's a tear in my eye and I can't see my own face. On the deck, there's a man who isn't my father playing the role of a father. The deck is massive and has an in-ground pool of stone masonry. He pulls up a board and there's a hallow inside filled with shotguns. Down inside there's a narrow wooden hallway, L-shaped with a window at every corner, the vertebrae of the building visible inside. The not father tells me to lift up another board and it's full of shotgun shells and human-sized pairs of scissors, caked with rust and blood. I think that these could have been useful if I knew about them months a go. (Did I need giant scissors for the movie?)

A butler takes me down the hallway and at the very end is a small window where this hall is visible through a tiny window through another hall. I knew all about this, because I've seen it many times before, but never knew how to get in. The butler tells me how this castle (It's a castle now) was once presided over by two daughters, one of which was a backstabbing whore who murdered the other sister's throbbed and took all his money. The butler boils and shrieks when you mention her name. Suddenly there's a crash outside the castle. A pretty black girl who I've never seen before, but identifies herself as "the Mayor's daughter" says that we left the secret hatch open, and with the heavy rain, the pool is overflowing and flooding the corridor. When we go back to the secret entrance, it's blocked off by a waterfall and cold water is slowly rising around our feet.

The ceiling seems to have vanished and we're outside. There's a river on the level above us and a moat on the level below us, and giant electric eels are slithering through the waves. Everyone else is calling them "sea monsters" so I just go with it. The castle is obviously under attack now, and although I only had to climb two stories to get up here, we're now very much high in the air.The castle is under attack by one of our ancient enemies or some such nonsense, so I get my gang or magical crime solving teenage hippie kids to sing their song of destruction. The sky is replaced by a swirl sf psychedelic color as they go into their extended tambourine solo. When it's over, the sea monsters and the chupacabrae (who were apparently there) jump onto land and embrace, having been overtaken by the power of love. The sea monsters were actually really nerdy mermen, but apparently still electric eels. The chupacabre are immediately fried by electricity and with their final ounce of strength, they bite the necks of the mermen, who immediately dissolve in poisonous sludge.

Now that he day is saved, it's time for me, the prince of this castle (I'm a prince now) to have wild bondage orgies with the princes of the neighboring kingdoms. I want to send a boy over the river in a box filled with foam, so he's sealed inside. He tells me that he loves being humiliated in front of new people he's never met before every night. Everything is warm and lit by candlelight. I remember how I first came to claim this castle. I go down it's nine levels, each of which is a new experience. Level four is a giant French library (the same one that blew up in a nearlier dream) but three was the hardest to conqueror. It's a flesh colored German boy's school, and I had to pass for a French immigrant by only using a few phrases and a gold coin. A man lead me into the bathroom, where a boy sat on a bale sf hey with a bucket on his head.
"Now, from Nature we obtain abundant information about ourselves, and precious little about others. About the woman you clasp in your arms, can you say with certainty that she does not feign pleasure? About the woman you mistreat, are you quite sure that from abuse she does not derive some obscure and lascivious satisfaction? Let us confine ourselves to simple evidence: through thoughtfulness, gentleness, concern for the feelings of others we saddle our own pleasure with restrictions, and make this sacrifice to obtain a doubtful result." -The Divine Marquis

"I agree Hans, but we have talked about those anal fisting analogies." -Werner Herzog

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Postby child of Lilith » Thu Sep 08, 2011 10:52 pm

View Original PostMugwumpHasNoLiver wrote:That was a beautiful dream. What did she look like? I see you posted it awhile ago, os sorry it took so long to respond.
She was petite and asian, with raven-black hair and skin as white as freshly fallen snow. Her age could have been anywhere between late teens to early twenties. Though she looked younger then that. She was an angel descended from heaven and much better then I ever could have possibly deserved.

Benny came back inside, and he looks very healthy. I knew that he just needed a few days to play and eat and he'd get better.
That must have really hurt. . .

Dream #3 was pretty good. For once you came out on top and got everything you wanted. I liked the idea of the pseudo father. A stand in for the real thing though possibly better.
"Let the right one in. Let the old dreams die. Let the wrong ones go. They cannot do, what you want them to do."- Morrissey, Let the Right One Slip In

"Happy people can be so cruel"- Claudia, Silent Hill 3

"everlasting, true love, I am yours"- Rule of Rose

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Postby MugwumpHasNoLiver » Fri Sep 09, 2011 12:18 pm

View Original Postchild of Lilith wrote:She was an angel descended from heaven and much better then I ever could have possibly deserved.


That's not true. Women love the strong silent type. Nothing gets a girl wetter than finding someone who could listen to her for hours on end.

My God. You won't believe this. Last night I had a dream that was so weird because it was so mundane.

I'm in a used video game store with my mom and little brother. It's wider that these places usually are and there are chain link fences hanging from the black and lime green walls. My mom is off in another section with my little brother, who is being bored and doesn't know what he wants, and desperate to have people stop talking to him, because nobody understands him but his friends from the internet. I'm browsing the N64 and Game Boy section, and most of the games are five dollars because they're all old and used. There's an original Japanese copy of The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening DX and then there's an N64 port of it, which I've never heard of before, but it might be nice to have.

My mother comes back with my little brother and sits down in this kind of reception area with this big packet of bonus stuff that you get for getting a membership with them. My grandma is there now, and says that all that stuff is nice and probably won't last last long. She hands it to me, and I look through this leather bag filled with leather things, and the prancing, pot-bellied manager with greasy hair and a visible scalp walks up to me and asks "Where is your card?" in a bitchy voice.

I point to my mom and say "She has it."

"Well," he says with a flip of his receding hairline. "You need to have it."

He walks away, and I'm think to my self, man that guy is an effate bitch. I hope he falls in a well. When I go back to looking at the games, I see a crisp hundred dollar bill lying there, so I'm like "Sweet." and I immediately shove it into my pocket. Suddenly the manager comes back out and goes into a histrionic fit to rival a high school drama teacher. It seems he lost a hundred dollar bill and he's totally broke and needs it to live.

Part of me thinks "Well, I found it so it's mine." then another part of me says "Well, he was just doing his job and probably has to put up with a lot of punk kids and was probably a lot more relaxed a few years ago when he was my age." Then I notice this black kid is staring at me and I don't know what he saw. I think he sees the bill in my pocket and gasps. I reach into my pocket, clench the money in my fist and knock a game off the shelf so it falls under the rack. I get down on my knees, reach under there and pretend to find a hundred dollars. I stretch it out for the nosy black kid, then walk over to the corner, where the manager is practically hyperventilating.

When he sees it, he takes a deep and dramatic breath and mouths "Thank God." He then power walks away from me without even a thank you and cradles the bill like a newborn baby in his arms. Then I think "Well, at least that was the right thing to do, I guess." I continue browsing games and the manager comes up to me with a bag like the one you get for memberships, but this one is bigger and greener and nicer. It looks all cyberpunk and shit. He then hysterically thanks ,me about ten times and I'm like "Yes, sure, glad to help." My mother then wants to leave and I go back to looking for that game I wanted.
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"I agree Hans, but we have talked about those anal fisting analogies." -Werner Herzog

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Postby child of Lilith » Sat Sep 10, 2011 1:07 am

View Original PostMugwumpHasNoLiver wrote:That's not true. Women love the strong silent type. Nothing gets a girl wetter than finding someone who could listen to her for hours on end.
Thanks for the kind words, Mugwump.

The dream really was mundane, but it was still good. It was nice of you to return the money, even after he was such an ass to you. I don't know if I would have been so forgiving.
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Postby MugwumpHasNoLiver » Sun Sep 11, 2011 3:47 pm

View Original Postchild of Lilith wrote:I don't know if I would have been so forgiving.


I know, right? That part still baffles me.

I had another dream about my dead kitty. This time he was on the porch, but he was still sick looking. He was still alive, though.

I'm on the phone with a friend of my mothers and she's asking me to come ever to her house for dinner. I'm not entirely certain what her motivation for inviting me over is, but halfway through the conversation her voice changes. It goes from being flighty and soft to deep and husky. I can see what she's looking at on the other end of the phone lines. It's four pictures aligned in a square, each depicting the same scene, an ebony piano beneath a wide glass window during a storm, in a dark wooden room. But each picture is rendered in different generations of video game graphics. She's pointing at one in the bottom right corner with huge jagged polygons that looks like it;s from the N64 or PS1 and she says she's going to burn it. This girl is one of the woman's daughters. They apparently passed off the phone at some point.

When I'm at her house I'm sitting across the table from her two oldest sons, who are identical conjoined twins with massive pecs and biceps. They way their bodies are fused, they look like a single large man with two heads. Two soft, boyish faces with shortly cut brown hair and soft blue eyes. I'm attracted to them immediately. I try not to stare, because they might think I'm staring at their deformity, and even if they didn't, I don't want them to know I'm attracted to them. The mother, who is blond and wiry, is serving leftover pizza. It's pretty good, but I really just want to start a conversation with the twins, but my God, what could I possibly have to say to them? I realize that the twin on the right has my first name, but I don't catch the others is. The mother says dinner is over and abruptly takes all the dishes away. I still have a piece of pizza in my hand, but the twins have got up and are reaching out to shake my hand. I hastily put the pizza in my other hand, hastily wipe my shaking hand, and shake, but I still feel the residue between my fingers, this light film, and I can tell they feel it, too.

I realize how much this dining room looks like my grandmother's dining room. It didn't quite exactly look this before. Before there was only a blank white wall behind the twins and a door to the side, and the windows on the left of the room overlooked a deep blue night with black tree tranches scratching the air. Now as I look at the room at an angle, I clearly see that if I were still sitting where I was sitting, I could see the counter and the kitchen behind the twins. In fact, right this second, I'm pressed up against my grandmother's recliner.

The mother rings a bell and all her children get up and break out in song and dance. The room is filled with harsh red land strobe lights as the twins lead a parade of little girls around the table and into the living room, where they appear to reenact the crucifixion of Christ in song. The mother seems to have become my grandmother, and she says something that I can barely make out over the roar of the song. It's something like "Don't you wish you were in a play that has meaning?" I realize that his is a strict household where things like athletics and theater are valued and you don't have the time to waste away into nothing.

I walk down the hallway, into the twin's room, which looks a lot like my room. I left my tape recorder and my camera in here. I'm looking over their desk awash in a bright yellow light, and I find two of them. The twins have the same recorder as I do, so I pick one up and listen to it. I hear my voice, so this one must be mine. The twins walk back in and they're smiling. I tell them that we have the same recorder and the one on the left starts laughing. He starts remembering how when they were eighteen they would record eachother and play it back and laugh and use it for pranks and shit. I ask them how old they are now and they look at eachother and say "Thirteen-thirty-five-twenty." They put their hands on my shoulder and tell me I'm a big guy. They ask if I wrestle or play football, and I say no, no I don't. I wonder how they can possibly wrestle. Would they count as one or two people and could they go again and again? Could they only each use one half of their body? They get into a wrestling stance and bear hug me and it's really, really nice in the tight grip of their arms.
"Now, from Nature we obtain abundant information about ourselves, and precious little about others. About the woman you clasp in your arms, can you say with certainty that she does not feign pleasure? About the woman you mistreat, are you quite sure that from abuse she does not derive some obscure and lascivious satisfaction? Let us confine ourselves to simple evidence: through thoughtfulness, gentleness, concern for the feelings of others we saddle our own pleasure with restrictions, and make this sacrifice to obtain a doubtful result." -The Divine Marquis

"I agree Hans, but we have talked about those anal fisting analogies." -Werner Herzog

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Postby child of Lilith » Sun Sep 11, 2011 10:44 pm

View Original PostMugwumpHasNoLiver wrote:I had another dream about my dead kitty. This time he was on the porch, but he was still sick looking. He was still alive, though.
He obviously meant a lot to you, Mugwump.

This was a good dream. I liked the slow transformation of the womans house into yours. The awkwardness with the handshake was good too. This dream also ends on a happy note again. I've been wondering for awhile now what it was that sparked such a change.

It's the spring time of youth in your dreams, Mugwump. Or so it appears.
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Postby gatotsu911 » Mon Sep 12, 2011 9:40 pm

I'm puzzled by the phenomenon of "dream memory"; while dreaming, we remember dreams that we had previously, but while waking we have no memory of them. That is to say, I'll occasionally have dreams that are repeats or variations on dreams I've had before, and while they're happening I will remember having a similar dream previously; but when I'm awake, I can't remember any of those dreams at all. It's really bizarre; as if the part of our consciousness that dictates dreams has completely separate memories from our waking mind. Has there been any research done on this phenomenon? Does it have a formal name?
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Postby Defectron » Tue Sep 13, 2011 3:20 pm

I had a dream I went to massacheusetts again, what interesting is that I remember this dream seeming like it was about a day or two long but I know I was only asleep for about an hour at the most while having it. Not too much interesting happened in it though one of the female managers from one of my jobs was there and we had sex. After that I woke up, sort of a less extreme version of the next generation episode where picard has an entire lifetime simulated in a day.
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Postby MugwumpHasNoLiver » Mon Sep 26, 2011 1:58 am

I walk down a flight of stairs that looks like the entrance to my basement. I step into a room with the same layout and size of my basement, but its carved from ivory soapstone and inlaid with marble. It is it both an art gallery and the physical representation of an article. It is discussing five numbered oddities and they exist in corporeal form in this imaginary space. The last item, number one, is a mighty tree growing from the center of the floor. When I am finished with the tour, I get into a red trolly, more like a children's toy than a proper method of transportation, and the driver, a man lost somewhere between homo sapien and gorilla turns to me and grins. He blasts on the ignition and the little red trolley rockets through a series of invisible tracks in the walls and deposits me in the upstairs kitchen. I tell my grandmother that the ride was so fun I'm going again just for that.

When I go back down there, I step backwards in time. Where my basement was, there is a thicket of autumn leaves and barren trees. There are streets paved around this thinly wooded area and houses are being erected on both sides. There is a woman, a mother to a family, in a red dress with a white and pink plaid apron, pointing to the tree. I see knotholes that look like faces, and eyes and teeth in the bark. I can almost feel the leaves screaming at me. The tree is cut down and I'm back in the basement art gallery. Everything is the same, except there is a stump where the tree once stood and the perimeter is boarded off and covered in police tape.

I meet the woman's family, although she is no longer here. Her sons are all teenaged baseball players. One of them has black hair and a mischievous grin. I hold him down to the floor and his five or six brothers beat on him. As I lie under him, my hands around his mouth, my legs wrapped around him, I cease to exist. I am now a spirit that is possessing him. I have no memory of the possession, but when I return to corporeal form, I appear in their sister's bedroom, which is pink and girly, my god. She apologizes for the possession, but I said I rather enjoyed living in another boy's body, apparently.

I step outside the house and I don't walk to the left, where the van is waiting with the engine revving. Their parents don't want to see me and I would much rather walk. We've moved out to this barren suburb, the same imaginary place of eternal sunlight and endless summers. But it's night out, thick black night. And autumn. I turn the corner of a tree way street and walk straight down. The houses are crammed close together, identically constructed caskets of plywood not fit for a Hollywood set. I pass by Alma, Gurl-Dan and Alex, who are huddled around a group of girls I've never met. They're telling somebody that they're taking her to get a haircut. I want to speak with them, but I feel that I shouldn't. I just wave and they immediately ask if I want to let them cut my hair. I feel it all wrong. My hair is a lopsided scrapheap asymmetrical against my skull. I mingle into the crowd. Three guys, Justin, Erik and Paul are there, and we move into a house.

There's a party inside. Corey is walking beside me and I try my best not to look at him. I haven't seen him since I was young, and now Popo has a thing for him again, my god, that girl. We walk through a room where a table covered in shot glasses is being moved back and forth and into a small living room with leather couches against three walls. I try to sit down with Alma and Gurl-Dan, but the girls are huddled around them. The closest seat by them is between a tiny black man, no taller than two feet, and a what looks to be a horse the size of a cat. I sit on the far side of the couch, beside Correy. I give up any pretensions towards ignoring him and say "So, you have nothing to say to an old childhood friend?" He says "No." I know Popo must have told him how dull I find him, and how she should really find someone else, but I was mostly just teasing her, and don't care what she gets stuffed by. I tell him as much, but his reaction is mute at best.

Why the hell am I even at a party? I hate parties. I thought I was getting a free haircut by fashion conscious women who could give me something to frame my face just right. This tiny room is larger, and has taken on the appearance of a sepulcher. This grating awful electronic rap music is screeching from the other room, and now they're trying to move the table in here. I fling on my coat and hoody and my shadow is doing a strip-tease burlesque against the wall. I realize there are large headphones around my neck. I tell Justin, Erik and Paul that I will see them later, and step over the couch into a long hallway that wasn't there before.

It goes on for a long time, and seems to be connected to a courthouse. There's no balance, and the floors slump and rise and twist. Solemn black voices of respect chant through blind effigies of liberty and when I walk through the brass and mahogany, out through glass doors, I find I'm in a city of grey matte paintings.
"Now, from Nature we obtain abundant information about ourselves, and precious little about others. About the woman you clasp in your arms, can you say with certainty that she does not feign pleasure? About the woman you mistreat, are you quite sure that from abuse she does not derive some obscure and lascivious satisfaction? Let us confine ourselves to simple evidence: through thoughtfulness, gentleness, concern for the feelings of others we saddle our own pleasure with restrictions, and make this sacrifice to obtain a doubtful result." -The Divine Marquis

"I agree Hans, but we have talked about those anal fisting analogies." -Werner Herzog

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Postby child of Lilith » Mon Sep 26, 2011 2:52 am

Nice dream Mugwump. And a bit longer then usual. Over all I'd say it had a real melancholic feel to it.
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Postby liquidus118 » Mon Sep 26, 2011 9:09 am

Well, my dreams aren't as interesting, lengthy or detailed as Mugwump's was, but I need somewhere to put them so it may as well be here.

I can't remember the start of my first dream, but the first thing I can recall is being at the top floor of a large wooden house, seemingly in some Suburban part of the South of America (I have no idea why, I have no connection with the place), and strangely the house is laid out like a wooden building in a map from Team Fortress 2, give or take family pictures and green carpet. Then two people who seem to be identical to the generic men in suits in Eva show up, telling me that I'm insane and have to come with them to a mental asylum to get better. I grudgingly agree, assuming that I'll be found sane so can just come back home. We arrive at the asylum in their car, and it's a large old house. The kind of thing that would be a haunted house in a kid's show complete with grey sky. Strangely, as we enter, the interior really is that of an old abandoned house. They take me quickly to the top floor and open a door, which leads to an enormous white room that spans far further than the house we're in could plausibly contain. It's a giant office block, but everything's a creamy white and most of the walls and cubicle walls look padded. I see people in smart shirts filling some of the cubicles as they guide me to my 'cell'. We arrive there quickly, and I see it really is an office cubicle, complete with computer, recycling bin and other generic office cubicle materials scattered around. For some reason I am small - maybe a child - now, with my head falling just short of the table upon which the computer is on. The men tell me I cannot leave this place until I'm 'normal'.

A fairly simple dream, that feels more like it belongs in a bizarre dream sequence in Fight Club than my own head.


Like my first dream I can't remember the start of yesterday's dream, but I remember that, for some reason, Hannibal Lecter wants to kill me, or maybe just meet me with the implication of threat. I believe that we had been friends or acquaintances but the relationship had turned sour. Either way, I am for some reason in the village next to the school that I go to, and it is the dead of night. Misato has been assigned to protect me, and is with me. She seems to be cooler and more nonchalant than in Eva, and casually asks me why he's after me. I don't have an answer. We see on a board where there should be an advert is a message from him, that seems to be a letter. My memory clouds up at this point and the next thing I know I'm in Eva 01 (watching from third person, strangely. Too many video games I guess) being absorbed into a giant portal that must be an angel. It all feels like I'm living episode 16 with a trippy version of Leliel. I find myself in a golden room, a giant cube, made entirely from watch parts and similar small mechanisms. Some devices are floating in the air throughout the room, almost like a gallery, and I inspect one nearby. It's a cube made of watch parts and for some reason it absolutely amazes me. I think my alarm went off at this point, because I woke up.

I don't get this one at all. I haven't watched/ read anything related to Hannibal in years, haven't been to the village in months and don't understand what Misato, the golden watch room or my amazement at it has to do with anything.


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