42. Stoned God
I remember this fragment of a dream, in which I was along with some other people inside an unusual sort of temple, that looked like it was somewhere in Bangkok or Indonesia. It was pyramidal, but elongated, and made of wood. The space "inside" the temple, were me and the others were, was more like underneath it. It looked as if the temple itself was not ment for visiting or getting inside for any reason. There was only a very narrow space between the ceiling and the ground, so that you had to crawl. I swear the people who were with me, were actually Hewy, Dewy and Lewy. Yes, the Duck nephews. The triplets. Them, damn it. And we were hiding from someone. There were some other friends of us (I am not going to speculate on their identity), hiding in one of the other temples all around. We thought we had escaped, when a part of the temple next to ours burst open, and a small, compact stone god came out. A stone god is what it was. It looked like a statue, with carved characteristics of a man with a beard and mustache, quite becoming of our general surroundings, and a pointy hat on top. He wore a sort of skirt or loincloth, but I can't remember if it was also carved, or made of real stuff. He got down from the temple, which, now it had lost its' top looked like a platform (I realised we were actually hiding underneath our temple, under its' basement, not in it), and started walking our way. We scrambled out from under the temple, and started running away, but while we were doing this, I noticed how stocky was the stone god. He looked too bulky to be able to slide under the temple with us, although I guess if he was strong enough, he could demolish it, or, if there was another god in it, dig underneath it, and catch us anyway. All the same, I thought we were just playing his game by coming out of our hole without even being pushed a bit. Or maybe the place under another gods temple was taboo to the stone god, and he couldn't reach for us, so he just scared us out of it.
43. Mother! I- want- to... uh, can I borrow your panties? Please?
I dreamed I had sex with my mother. Yeah, yeah, I 'm a sick bastard. Anyway, there was this tribe, I don't know were, who believed, among other things, that if you desired to do something forbidden, in a dream, you should go on and do it. So, I did it. Mom was very reluctand at first, but she loosened up. We were at her place in Penteli, in her bedroom, and we were both tormented by this intense sexual desire we suddendly felt for each other. I told her we shouldn't suppress our desires, and that it wasn't anything bad, it was only a stupid social taboo, and the bullshit about teratogenesis and stuff was only bullshit anyway. So we went into bed and did everything you could imagine and more. I 'm a bit embarassed thinking about those things, let alone actualy describe them, but since it was only a dream, it wasn't anything bad, really. I think I should try to do this more often. Hey, I don't mean shagging my mom, you perverts! I mean indulging in the fullfilment of "forbidden" desires in dreams. I 've learned, the hard way, that it's only the suppression of desires and intents that hurts you, not the desires on their own. So, if I can do what I like and then just wake up from a dream, why not? Am I supposed to keep myself sociable in dreams too? No siree. Have fun.
In a very small fragment of a dream I had later that night, I saw a thing that looked a lot like Jabba the Hutt. He was holding a little, very little man between two fingers, and he said something like "Mygger", or "Myiyer". I mark it down because it was one of those rare times I retained a word from a dream (although I have no idea what it was; I think it must have been a name of someone).
44. More of almost the same.
See? What did I tell you? Indulging your forbidden desires in dreams, is guilt- free. I dreamed two sexual dreams this morning, both of them about stuff I 'd sorta like to do, but am embarassed to in real life. First, it was Jimmy. He's a friend of mine since he was 15, so I never saw him in a sexual way, at least not actively. That's to say I like him a lot, especially now that he's going through a freak piercing period and he looks like a hedgehog... but I have placed him off limits to my bestial lust from the beggining (because I like him so much I 'm afraid of what might happen). In the dream, Jimmy and I were at his place, and he was sitting next to me, being really kind and sweet and all, and then he unzippered his pants, and took out his willy. It was up, and he started stroking it and stuff, and I touched it, still a bit scared of what might come out of all this. Like I didn't know what usually comes out of stroked penises. I didn't do much, I was still so restrained. I can't believe myself. Next, I was at Adas' place, and I was lying on the bed, dressed in a tacky set of body with garters and silk stalkings, all light blue and white. I was having fun with myself, when Ada came in and surprised me. Yeah, like in those movies. She was, naturally, very happy she found me like this, and she got into bed, to give me a hand, litterally, but again, I was embarrassed, and this dream too ended quite dryly. Well, maybe next dream time...
45. Handgun my bleeding ass.
You know how handguns never work in dreamtime. Or don't you? Well, to me, and a couple other people I asked, they 're as good as a spoonfull of youghurt, when it comes to hurting people with them. It happens to me all the time, I try to shoot someone, and all that happens is that the damn thing fires little symbolic shots at them, never causing a wound, maybe a slight pain, or something. Just once, I killed some guys with a gun, but ever since, the damned things, never work. This time, I was a prisoner, somewhere, it looked like a house, or maybe it was the principles' office. I was going to escape, along with some other people, and to do that, we had to kill the principle, and some of the guards. I tried to shoot at him with a gun, but nothing happened. Somehow, though, I managed to scare them off with the gun, and keep them quiet till we got away. We jumped on a convertible, and took off. I was driving, but it was weird. I had half a dozen long rectangular boxes of cardboard wrapped in plastic foil stuck between my chin and the wheel, so that it was really hard to turn it, or even see what was ahead of me. And the other people in the car didn't even help. Whatever. At least we got away. Or I think we did. This is not a dream I remember all that clearly, you see. But I thought I 'd mention the handgun thing.
46. The Drums of Fu Manchu
I was an urban shaman in this dream. I looked a bit like an australian aborigine, but my skin was white. I think I was also old, like a grandfather. I looked like a version of my self before the hormones, but fourty years older at the very least. I had a snare drum, and a couple of drumsticks, and I was beating on the drum with them, to rouse the spirits, or enter the spirit world. Don't expect me to remember which one exactly. I was outdoors, at the bottom of some stairs that led up to the top of a hill, both densely built with appartment buildings and grown thick with trees and bushes. As I was beating on my drum, I felt a malevolent spirit approaching, and terror seized me. I thought to myself "this is one of those times again". I meant the time when my body grows stiff, and I have a night terror, or sleep paralysis, but within a dream. And I did feel my body starting to go numb, and the terror mounting, pushing me to the threshold of self-control, to the point I 'd lose it. But I stayed calm, or at least, I stayed sober, although filled with terror, flooded with the malevolence of the spirit assaulting me. I kept beating on my drum with abandon, not giving a shit about the spirits' evil intentions. I wasn't going to let it harm me, especially if the harm meant it was going to wrest my selfs' control from me. I went up the stairs, allways beating on the drum, and when I got to the top of the hill, I looked down and saw Athens, by night all the lights glowing like earthly stars, as if the valley was turned in a mirror reflecting the sky, but with colors, red, green, blue and yellow and arranged in patterns characteristic of human activity. By that time, there were more than one spirit coming at me. I could almost see, with the corner of my eye, a whole bunch of them, swarming around me, hissing with malice. They focused their magic on my drum, and it started to change shape. It now appeared to me as an old piece of tupperware, and the sound it made when I hit it confirmed my vision. But I still kept my calm, told my self that it didn't matter a bit, I didn't give a shit, I 'd bang on my drum until the stars fell from the fucking sky. After a while, the spirits were gone, taking the horror and the stiffness with them and my drum was a drum again. This is the first time I can remember that I had a sleep paralysis setting on and I managed to do something about it. Usually during sleep paralysis you 're "awake", but it happens to me sometimes when I 'm dreaming, like this one. I guess if I wasn't dreaming this time, I couldn't have controlled it as I did. Anyway, the dream wasn't over yet. I stopped beating on my drum after a while, and walked back to my home, at the feet of the hill. I was thinking to myself how the snare drum wasn't exactly right for inducing a trance, and that next time I should try with the kick drum.
Poor spirits. I guess all the little bastards wanted from me was a little fucking quiet in the damned night.
47. Scratchy Bitch
One more dream about music and drums. I 'm beggining to get the hang of it, it seems... This time, I was in a studio with some guy, and we were jamming. I can't remember the guys' face very clearly, but he looked like someone from the Dandy Arseholes or a fan of theirs. He had a pair of earphones on, and he acted a bit like a pro DJ. At first, I was on the drums, but then he took my place, and I went over to the turntables and started doing some really wicked scratching on a couple of records. It was really fun. I was trying to make it sound like drums, and it worked. I think it sounded a bit like the scratching show of that guy in "La Haine" ("The Hate"?). I 've never done this in real life mind you, but the way I was doing it in that dream, it looked like it would have worked in reality too. Only I don't have that many records, or spare heads for my record player, and I don't think I 'm going to try it out actually. This is the second time I dream of playing music with another instrument, but doing it like I 'm playing the drums. Last time, I was playing a guitar, but the sound coming out of it, was the sound of drums. I realised that was how I used to play my guitar, back in the day, using my right hand (my good hand, and a good good hand at that too, especially compared to the left one which is downright useless), just like I use it now, to set the pace and keep the beat. I mean, you 're supposed to know that that's exactly what right hands of guitarists are supposed to be for, keeping the beat, but I had never felt it in such a way, with my body, until that dream. It helped me with my drums a lot too. On a side note, I guess I should mention that other little dream I had some weeks ago, which I didn't think important enough to mention then. I was either playing the guitar, or listenting to a song on the stereo, or I was just listening to it in my head, and it sounded like something from Bathory, of the Twilight of the Gods era. I heard the narrating voice explain how I did use to have my own music or songs in me and the song I heard was the proof I still have them. That's probably in response to some insecurity I had, I was afraid I had lost my songs (as in I 've lost My Marbles). On yet another sidenote, I omitted one more little dream from last week, having to do with music also. In it, Ada was playing her guitar, and I was singing. We were doing a cover of a Nick Cave song (and unplugged too) one I 've never heard, of course. I was surprised to hear myself sing quite convincingly. It sounded like Ozzy from the very first Black Sabbath alboum, with a hint of Nina Hagen in it, but still somehow in the romantic baritone style of Caves'. I loved it. Needless to say, I 'm also insecure about my singing, in real life. I woke up from this one feeling really like, I don't know -elated I guess. It's been a while since I 've had so many music dreams in such a short time. Guess I 'd better practice a bit more now I have them.
48. Little Blue Man. No, not a Smurf.
I was sleepin in the bed I share with Ada, at the house we live together in, but it wasn't Ada that was asleep by my side. It was some guy I don't know, but in the dream, he was my lover. He was saturnine, tall, muscular, bald and with a black goatee- he looked a bit like Bluebeard. I confess I wouldn't love Ada any less if she looked like that. Anyway, I was having a dream, within that one, and in it, I was haunting a house. I was standing still, while the woman who lived in the house passed me by. As long as I stood still, she couldn't see me. Somehow though, she knew were I was, because she was a witch or something, and so she leaned forward, and looked me straight in the eye, until I could but focus all of my attention on her. That's when I started dreaming the other dream, the one with the nice guy sleeping next to me. The original dream, the one with the witch, was starting to fade out, and I could see its' confines melting away, with the corner of my eye, when something leapt out of it, crossing into the dream I was now, and landed on the floor, next to our bed, on my side, and right between the bed and the wall. I freaked out. I started feeling the usual terror of the sleep paralysis taking me over, but I kept it under control. At least this time, I knew where it was coming from. That little thing, which looked like a jagged piece of blue stone, and that had come from another dream. Suddendly, my boyfriend started talking, in his sleep. I could make out the words, but I didn't understand them. They were in some language I didn't recognise, and they hardly registered on my memory. But, before I forgot them, I shook him awake, and repeated a couple of them to him. "Yeah?" he growled. "What about that?". I told him he was talking in his sleep, and that was what he had said, and asked him what it meant. He answered he had no idea. Then I got up, and went to a corner of the room, under a chair, were the spirit of the house lived. I said some prayer, and called its' name, and there it was. A little blue man, small like a doll, and all chubby and curly-haired, like a Raphaels' angel. I told him about the thing that had come out of the dream, and about the woman that had probably sent it behind me, and he was scared shitless. He said he didn't have no power to do anything against her, and that he would love to help, but he didn't really know how. The dream started to fade again, as I sat down, determined to put my man and the little blue spirit to work with me against the woman in the other dream. I can't remember anything after that. I woke up.