Toilets, New Orleans, Video games, Linux, PostgreSQL, the Marigny, Restaurants, Live Music, Bars, Hollywood Hotties and all with 30% less fat!!

Home

What's New

Tell me that you love me!!

Feedback / Submit Reader Photos

PGDesigner Datamodeling Tool

PGDesigner

The Greatest Game of all TIME!!

Cylindrix

Links

Personal

Links:

Watch Me Eat a Hot Dog

www.glitch13.com

Live New Orleans

Yaddoshi's site

Six Ten Split

Fleshbot

Offbeat

Go to Dream Page Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Dream Page

"My professional psychiatric analysis is that Angry John is completely fucking insane." - Sigmund Freud

2011-07-26: The Chrome Hoop

Everclear was on stage and they were playing a cover of "Super Sex" by Morphine. It was pretty good, but some of the organizers had brought a bunch of birds to the show for some bizarre reason. The birds were shitting all over the stage, the crowd was laughing, and eventually Everclear quit playing. The singer threw his mic at the organizers, "The birds were a great idea, assholes."

I walked up the street to a house. There was a big spread of candy and assorted BBQ food. I kept trying to find Snickers, but all I could find was Milky Way. I opened a single-square Milky Way and ate it. The caramel was extremely gooey and messy. I looked up at the house, and I could hear Tenacious D playing a cover of "Super Sex" by Morphine. I felt that this was an odd coincidence. Something seemed wrong.

I walked further up the street, high up into the desert mountains. I got into a car and began driving around. As I turned the wheel, odd, trippy music played. Whenever I turned the wheel, a bit of the car around me would disappear. In fact, the mountain itself around me began to disappear until I was alone on a cliff holding the steering wheel.

I spun the wheel around my wrist.

"I am lucid," I thought.

I focused, and the wheel turned to chrome. I spun it faster and faster until it was a means of propulsion, and I floated off of the cliff. I practiced throwing the hoop and making it return to me. I practiced changing its form.

I threw it into a tree, and it returned as a crown of thorns. I didn't cause that transformation. I frowned. I expanded the crown until it changed back into a chrome hoop. I spun it around my wrist. The motion with which I transformed it larger and smaller was very similar to the "pinch" and "pull" gestures for scaling on the iPhone and iPad.

My alarm blared. It was time for work.

Permalink to this post.

2011-07-13: The Leatherface Robot Army

Natasha asked me to review the set for her new Burlesque-Horror act. At first, it seemed like pretty solid 3D modeling, but after a bit of scrutiny I noticed the inconsistent style. The houses and basic scenery looked quite cookie-cutter and standard, while all of the gallows, spooky trees, and ghosts were of a starkly different artistic style. It was clear that different artists had designed the regular and horror scenery.

I walked down to observe the team of scientists. A potential customer was getting a closer view of the new robot. He asked a few questions about the type of power cell, and the volume vs. power output of these cells. The primary innovation of this robot was actually this ratio. The duration and wattage of these tiny cells was nothing short of revolutionary. It allowed this battery powered device to have all of the power of something that would normally require an internal combustion engine.

The robot began to become noticeably disturbed by the customer's presence. I thought that the customer was about to become aggressive with the robot. I was wrong. The robot opened its pincers, surrounded the man with them, and instantly crushed him into a paste.

The robot transformed into Leatherface and began to emit that horrible, muffled howl. It grabbed one of the male scientists, one arm around the side of the neck and the other arm hooked under the groin. One of the female scientists tried to pull the monster off of him. Leatherface squeezed his arms and crushed the scientist into pieces.

He then grabbed the woman and tore her apart. All the while screaming that horrible scream.

Other Leatherfaces appeared. It was carnage. Some of them had weapons -- chainsaws, huge mallets, and others. Body parts and organs were everywhere. After all of the humans were gone, the Leatherfaces turned on one another.

By this time I had flown into the air and I was watching from above. There was a tree at the center of this madness, and the bloodshed seemed to radiate from it. I watched a Leatherface attempt to crush another with a mallet. The second Leatherface quickly pushed an inflatable kiddie pool in the way, and the mallet bounced harmlessly, emitting a pleasant musical note.

One of the Leatherfaces revved his chainsaw in a complementary note. Another howled, but in another complementary note. Then another, then another. Each loud sound was a note in rhythm and harmony with the last.

They all turned and faced me in the sky while performing their macabre musical number. The music was actually quite intense and complex.

I woke up with the song in my head. I wanted to grab something to quickly record it, but I was too tired. And when I woke up again later that morning, it was gone.

Permalink to this post.

2011-07-02: Mnemonics

Anyone who has known me for any length of time, or anybody who has read this section of the site for that matter, knows that I have a very vivid and intense dream life. It used to be horrible and torturous, and it took me gaining lucidity to start to make it bearable, and in some cases pleasant. Sometimes even wonderful.

I have started sending myself mnemonic messages. When I am in a particularly fantastic dream, I will commit mnemonics to memory to communicate to my waking self.

The most recent example is fairly mundane, but it illustrates the concept well. I was explaining mnemonics to a small boy, but he couldn't grasp the concept. So I said to him, "Well, what are you learning right now in school? What are you trying to learn?"

He said, "We are learning about the conquistadors right now."

"OK," I said, "Watch this."

We floated to the door. I moved a cob a corn through the air and put it into the keyhole of the door.

"This is the starting point of our memory castle. The front door. And in the door, we put corn into the keyhole. Corn-Keyhole-Door."

Once committed to memory, it is impossible to forget the mnemonic -- even when it originates in your dream.

Permalink to this post.

2011-05-30: The 60s Dance Party

I was in the middle of a 60s Dance Party. All of the chicks were hot little Twiggies, doing the Swim, the Monkey, and that other archetypal 60s dance whose name escapes me.

I was dreaming. I knew this, but I still felt out of place.

I love structured, ballroom dancing. But I feel completely uncomfortable doing random club dances. I sulked away unhappily.

"What the fuck?" I thought to myself, "Why should I feel uncomfortable in a dream? I should have a blast!"

A great idea occurred to me. I could practice my club dancing here, with the dream people, and become comfortable and confident in the real world.

I walked up to the nearest Twiggy and began to dance. It was awesome. We danced, made eye contact, and got closer and closer. But something was wrong with my left arm. It felt strange as I raised it above my head. I focused on my arm and realized that I was sleeping on it, and it was stuck above my head.

This realization made my dream-arm become completely stuck above my head. I was too conscious of my real-life arm to overcome this in my dream state. My arm was stuck above my head. Shit.

Obviously, I couldn't continue to dance like this. So I decided to focus on something that I am more confident in. Something that would allow me to regain control of my left arm. I looked at Twiggy, and she looked at me.

Even in my dreams, dancing isn't my forte. But I still got the girl.

Permalink to this post.

2011-05-22: The Rules of the Nightmare

This battle has been going on for as long as I can remember.

Just when I figure out a way to stop the nightmares, they figure out a new way to trick me. When I was a young child, the first step was proving to myself that I was dreaming. I suppose that the very fact that I would even ask the question should be evidence enough that I was dreaming, but that never occurred to me at the time. So I developed a foolproof method:

Find a book that I haven't read and open it up. Try to read a few pages. If there were clear and coherent words on the page, I wasn't dreaming. If the words were garbled, blurry, or nonsensical, I was obviously dreaming.

This worked for a while. The second trick was waking myself up before something horrible happened. I would lay down on my back and sit up as rapidly as possible. This worked at first. Eventually this stopped working, so I had to add a jolting experience to the process. I would often run out into the street, lay down, extend my arm, and let a car run over my hand while I sat up. This worked pretty well.

When I was about ten, I was in church and listening to a sermon. Something seemed wrong. The man giving the sermon looked like the priest from Silver Bullet. I looked around at the parishioners. Some of them were looking at me out of the corner of their eye and grinning. Was I dreaming? I picked up the Bible and read. It was the St. James version of the Bible, and I read several passages. I flipped through and every page had words. It was the Bible. I wasn't dreaming.

I forgot to tell you about one of the rules from my dreams back then: Often back then, the nightmare had to trick me into talking before it could kill me. It went to great pains to trick me. Even when I knew what it was doing, the trick usually worked and the nightmare succeeded in killing me. When I knew I was dreaming I clammed up and tried with all of my might to keep quiet.

But on this occasion, I had done the reading test and had affirmed that I was not dreaming. I opened up the hymnal and began to sing along with the songs.

That was all they needed. The entire church swarmed me. They laughed and howled and tore at me. People climbed over pews to get their claws into me. I screamed.

The reading trick no longer worked. At some point, The Nightmare had decided to memorize books.

Post Scriptum

So when you read the dreams where I am tearing these creatures apart, remember that this has been over 30 years coming. It has taken this long for me to gain control.

Permalink to this post.