I have been having weird dreams lately so I thought this board could use a thread to share the weird dreams we have been having.
Anywho in this dream I was hanging out with Nick Gibas at the Troyler and we start making fun of these kids and yelling shit at them. They come back in a couple minutes in the car Ice Cube drives in Boyz N The Hood and start shooting at us. Sadly it was then that I woke up. I would have loved to see how it all turned out.
-Warren
Dreams
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Dreams
age of quarrel wrote:No one poser exposes me more than the twins
- Human-Demise
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Re: Dreams
..........the fuck?
last nights dream involved me driving but i could see every well and missed the turn to my house. and I probably won't remember another one for a few months
last nights dream involved me driving but i could see every well and missed the turn to my house. and I probably won't remember another one for a few months
"hahaha, you were moved, wuss."
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Re: Dreams
I don't generally remember my dreams, but two stick out for me. I've told them to a few people, simply because they were the only times I've remembered dreams and they've been interesting, and not some rambling collection of nonsense that wouldn't interest anyone.
Dream the First
It's like I'm watching a movie. Everything is three dimensional, but somewhat flat, as if on a screen. There is no one around. I'm on a street with one house, a dilapidated mansion straight from Are You Afraid of the Dark. Shutters hang off their hinges, blown about by errant gusts of wind. Paint peels in strips, curling around itself like Ouroboros. A generic news van pulls up, complete with satellite dish on the roof. A cameraman jumps out of the drivers side, and a woman with massive hair, a power-suit straight from a Eurythmics video and a microphone gets out of the passenger side. They go running up to the house, the cameraman filming the anchor as she narrates some bullshit, cliche-ridden spiel about unsolved murders and various shenanigans of the supernatural stripe. I follow, but at a glide. Again, like a movie. I'm a spectator, neither the cameraman or the anchorwoman acknowledge my existence. I am a ghost, outside of this reality; an observer. They enter the house which opens almost directly into a kitchen. Rusted hulks of appliances past flake into oblivion in dust encrusted corners, but that isn't their focus. Ahead of them is an open door, through which a landing and stairs leading upward are visible. The cameraman silently enters the landing area, and trains the camera up the stairs. For five seconds he is still and silent. Then he calmly turns from the camera, looks the anchorwoman in the eyes and says
"I love you."
At which point something comes rushing down the stairs at inhuman speeds, directly into the cameraman, which makes the door slam shut. Wet tearing sounds and animal screams come from behind the door. A scrabbling noise as he tries to claw his way out through the door. The anchorwoman is shouting
"FRED! WHATS GOING ON?"
It's ridiculous of course. Fred is being eviscerated behind that door.
"FRED? WHAT'S GOING ON?"
From behind the door, the voice of a small child (perhaps five years old) responds
"Wanna see?"
The door opens. The anchorwoman backs away in horror as a seven foot tall monstrosity steps out. It's skull is elongated, the moist grey green skin giving off a dull glint in the low light. It's arms are as long as it's body, and capped by fantastically stretched hands. Each finger ends in a twisted, gnarled claw. It shambles forward on thin legs, knees bent backwards. It's body is emaciated, the stomach bulging from malnourishment. It is wearing the cameraman's face like a mask, but somehow has full control of the muscles so that it moves fluidly with it's own motions. It's eyes are wide and pupil-less.
"Wanna see?"
It is speaking with the voice of a child.
"Wanna see? Wanna see? Wanna see? Wanna see?"
The anchorwoman is petrified, standing stock still. It gets approximately a foot from her and stops. It's head tilts to the side, quizzically.
"Wanna see?"
It guts her, entrails beating her to the ground.
It raises it's hand, coated in blood that rolls in fat, lazy drops down it's wrist.
Then it turns, looks into my eyes, smiles and waves.
That's when I woke up screaming.
Dream the Second
I am sitting in a diner with Nick Gibas and Shawn Heche, arguing over something stupid. We are sitting in a booth, drinking coffee in endless amounts. Nick and Shawn on one side, myself on the other.
At some point, I notice we're out of coffee, and in perfect dream logic decide that it's obvious that I need to go into the back and get some more.
I wander into the dry storage area and grab a box of coffee. Again, dream logic, this is basically a Borax box, but filled with coffee grounds. Because that's what they do. Put coffee. In boxes.
I open it, and look inside. The entire box is infested with the carcasses of scarab beetles. I open another box, same thing.
Every bit of food in the dry storage area is rotten, moldering, or riddled with dead beetles. I look at my feet, and notice that the concrete floor is wet, and eroded. The ceiling has holes where the wood and drywall has rotted away, exposing an amber coloured sky, pollution streaking across the stars.
I go back into the dining room, which is filled to capacity. Every table is being served rotten eggs. They are spreading rancid butter on moldy bread. They are eating bacon reeking of botulism. They are washing it down with fermented orange juice. They do not notice, or they do not care.
The oak floor is warped, and twisted. I grab a table and it is fat with retained water and rot. I twist and a chunk of the wood crumbles to ash in my hands.
I go back to our table, and the waitress has refilled my mug.
A lone scarab swims with desperate fury.
Dream the First
It's like I'm watching a movie. Everything is three dimensional, but somewhat flat, as if on a screen. There is no one around. I'm on a street with one house, a dilapidated mansion straight from Are You Afraid of the Dark. Shutters hang off their hinges, blown about by errant gusts of wind. Paint peels in strips, curling around itself like Ouroboros. A generic news van pulls up, complete with satellite dish on the roof. A cameraman jumps out of the drivers side, and a woman with massive hair, a power-suit straight from a Eurythmics video and a microphone gets out of the passenger side. They go running up to the house, the cameraman filming the anchor as she narrates some bullshit, cliche-ridden spiel about unsolved murders and various shenanigans of the supernatural stripe. I follow, but at a glide. Again, like a movie. I'm a spectator, neither the cameraman or the anchorwoman acknowledge my existence. I am a ghost, outside of this reality; an observer. They enter the house which opens almost directly into a kitchen. Rusted hulks of appliances past flake into oblivion in dust encrusted corners, but that isn't their focus. Ahead of them is an open door, through which a landing and stairs leading upward are visible. The cameraman silently enters the landing area, and trains the camera up the stairs. For five seconds he is still and silent. Then he calmly turns from the camera, looks the anchorwoman in the eyes and says
"I love you."
At which point something comes rushing down the stairs at inhuman speeds, directly into the cameraman, which makes the door slam shut. Wet tearing sounds and animal screams come from behind the door. A scrabbling noise as he tries to claw his way out through the door. The anchorwoman is shouting
"FRED! WHATS GOING ON?"
It's ridiculous of course. Fred is being eviscerated behind that door.
"FRED? WHAT'S GOING ON?"
From behind the door, the voice of a small child (perhaps five years old) responds
"Wanna see?"
The door opens. The anchorwoman backs away in horror as a seven foot tall monstrosity steps out. It's skull is elongated, the moist grey green skin giving off a dull glint in the low light. It's arms are as long as it's body, and capped by fantastically stretched hands. Each finger ends in a twisted, gnarled claw. It shambles forward on thin legs, knees bent backwards. It's body is emaciated, the stomach bulging from malnourishment. It is wearing the cameraman's face like a mask, but somehow has full control of the muscles so that it moves fluidly with it's own motions. It's eyes are wide and pupil-less.
"Wanna see?"
It is speaking with the voice of a child.
"Wanna see? Wanna see? Wanna see? Wanna see?"
The anchorwoman is petrified, standing stock still. It gets approximately a foot from her and stops. It's head tilts to the side, quizzically.
"Wanna see?"
It guts her, entrails beating her to the ground.
It raises it's hand, coated in blood that rolls in fat, lazy drops down it's wrist.
Then it turns, looks into my eyes, smiles and waves.
That's when I woke up screaming.
Dream the Second
I am sitting in a diner with Nick Gibas and Shawn Heche, arguing over something stupid. We are sitting in a booth, drinking coffee in endless amounts. Nick and Shawn on one side, myself on the other.
At some point, I notice we're out of coffee, and in perfect dream logic decide that it's obvious that I need to go into the back and get some more.
I wander into the dry storage area and grab a box of coffee. Again, dream logic, this is basically a Borax box, but filled with coffee grounds. Because that's what they do. Put coffee. In boxes.
I open it, and look inside. The entire box is infested with the carcasses of scarab beetles. I open another box, same thing.
Every bit of food in the dry storage area is rotten, moldering, or riddled with dead beetles. I look at my feet, and notice that the concrete floor is wet, and eroded. The ceiling has holes where the wood and drywall has rotted away, exposing an amber coloured sky, pollution streaking across the stars.
I go back into the dining room, which is filled to capacity. Every table is being served rotten eggs. They are spreading rancid butter on moldy bread. They are eating bacon reeking of botulism. They are washing it down with fermented orange juice. They do not notice, or they do not care.
The oak floor is warped, and twisted. I grab a table and it is fat with retained water and rot. I twist and a chunk of the wood crumbles to ash in my hands.
I go back to our table, and the waitress has refilled my mug.
A lone scarab swims with desperate fury.
ZACH ATTACK wrote:Do drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. The harder the better. Then you'll go from being lonely to wishing that everybody would just fuck off because their a bunch of fucking buzzkills going on about how 'you've got a problem" and they "just want to be their to help you". You don't need any of them. You just need drugs.
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Re: Dreams
I had this dream about a week ago where there were parallel earths at war. Like people of our parallel earth are the same but have different emotions. They're all super invasive, and less inhibited than humans.
So I'm on this small carrier that is supposed to attach itself secretly to the side of a giant ship with a bunch of frozen ice on it in space. It's all floating around, and we have to penetrate this small cavity of ice on the hull. So we do that and land our ship inside because apparently it's the only way we can somehow get onto parallel earth.
So we set up a little base inside it and it looks like a giant freezer.
Then the ship enters parallel earth and lands in some British village.
The people all notice we're on the side of the ship and enter viciously asking questions and removing pieces of our ship and i'm like "Oh fuck..."
THEN IT ENDED
Then last night I had this dream about how I was in some futuristic militia that had to fight these "bad dudes".
Could have been a continuation from the dream above? I have no idea.
Anyway we were running around in this giant parkade in Seattle trying to find these enemies and mercilessly kill them
Thing is my dream completely over-exaggerates what Seattle is, and everything looks bizarre.
Then we exit the parkade and enter some house with spiders everywhere and old women crooning.
We start shooting the spiders but they grow bigger and attack us.
I haven't even been watching any sci-fi lately...
So I'm on this small carrier that is supposed to attach itself secretly to the side of a giant ship with a bunch of frozen ice on it in space. It's all floating around, and we have to penetrate this small cavity of ice on the hull. So we do that and land our ship inside because apparently it's the only way we can somehow get onto parallel earth.
So we set up a little base inside it and it looks like a giant freezer.
Then the ship enters parallel earth and lands in some British village.
The people all notice we're on the side of the ship and enter viciously asking questions and removing pieces of our ship and i'm like "Oh fuck..."
THEN IT ENDED
Then last night I had this dream about how I was in some futuristic militia that had to fight these "bad dudes".
Could have been a continuation from the dream above? I have no idea.
Anyway we were running around in this giant parkade in Seattle trying to find these enemies and mercilessly kill them
Thing is my dream completely over-exaggerates what Seattle is, and everything looks bizarre.
Then we exit the parkade and enter some house with spiders everywhere and old women crooning.
We start shooting the spiders but they grow bigger and attack us.
I haven't even been watching any sci-fi lately...
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Re: Dreams
I can't remember all of my dream from last night but I do remember running from a cop car with a group of people then hiding in some trees in a forest. I think we had broken into a house, because I have a vague memory of rummaging through a closet.
"hahaha, you were moved, wuss."
Re: Dreams
So, I have a bunk bed with a couch/futon on the bottom.
I don't use the ladder most of the time; I just pull myself up and jump off. Anyway, a while ago, I fell asleep on the top bunk for about five minutes, in which I dreamed that I walked into my kitchen and saw a giant cardboard cut out of Cookie Monster. I then woke up on my bedroom floor.
I'm still confused.
I don't use the ladder most of the time; I just pull myself up and jump off. Anyway, a while ago, I fell asleep on the top bunk for about five minutes, in which I dreamed that I walked into my kitchen and saw a giant cardboard cut out of Cookie Monster. I then woke up on my bedroom floor.
I'm still confused.
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