Parsing dreams

2011.12.27

Tetris, blended into Lemmings...in DOS for Mac.  Nothing but games in black Mr. T’s room w/ kids—I almost gave away his name.  Tested at a low grade level by the end, a teacher sharpening three pencils for me.  “15. Repeal of Prohibition Act.”  Other crap happened, including other implications w/ floppies that all seemed dead.  Bogus tech.  I’m out.  Adjusted for the cold: no shivering, limbs fall off.  Okay—it’s not that bad...yet.

2011.12.24

Warning: this post contains frank sexual content.

Didn’t bother to write down the vivid dreams the other day, but...
Chased by bees after disturbing two; tried to literally box ’em in.  Woke up (in-dream).  This also happened in a later scene.

Next dream was a little like American Pie: senior year (age 17), and a threesome with two girls.  But like Shoot ’Em Up, copulation was maintained while moving from room to room.  The nasty part: we were in the school building!  And somehow the rather young students nearby didn’t notice or care?!  And one of the girls resembled Ann Coulter.  With the only nudity being mine, the condom looked like a plastic bag, and weightless...just floating.

In-dream, I wake up again, mother’s home so I can’t “finish.”  I am the child that runs away for sex, somehow...hands and feet, like an animal, somehow starting miles away, at a different location I recognize— the road.  And then the bees again.

At another point, with a small premonition, maybe, “naughty” puns.:
Sounds made from common, round-the-house sounds.  One made a ‘bits’ sound, the six radios over six toilets made Michael Savage, out of context, Boy am I glad it’s that time (of the year) for bird flu season.

Post-waking dream (not fully conscious, more consistent — read at your own risk):
To the Nickelodeon theme, Robot Chicken cock-up: “You Can’t Say That On Television!...[dog/horse]:without an asexual context.”  Man: “I blew my load too close to the [take your pick].”  Cut back to, three seconds ago, iris out, and, the hand motion is revealed: rolling dice.  “Damn, I blew...  I’m only lucky near [opposite of take your pick].”

Husband, (let’s just call him Peter G.), “Man, this Woody’s really bumming me out.”  Wife (Lois G.) responds, “Wanna Eat Out?”  A character named “Horsey” pops up: Uh-oh, ow are we going to get out of this one?  Camera pulls back, w/ gong, a Chinese restaurant.  Peter: Beats complainin’ about Woody Harrelson.

Like an Erectile Dys. commercial: boy runs into house, “Daddy, Daddy, our neighbor keeps beating his cock, but it won’t come back to life!”  Father: “Again?  That idiot tries CPR on his dead roosters, and he thinks he’s a farmer?.”  “You Can’t Say That On Television!... [cock-a-doodle-doo]”

2011.12.21

Ep. of South Park I can’t fully describe here—kids getting around not being able to mast— older woman performing fel—on Ike?  And the kids are all laid back, loose because of this new endeavour.  Some of the animation is impossible...for the amount animated, not the content—too much for 6 days.  Can’t remember the other dream ’cause all the crap I just dealt with, the paragraph I had just typed.

2011.12.20

some basic core Marathon, with falsely-remembered starting points...and chocolate—eating chocolate in the game, with hands.  Ain’t that effed up.

2011.12.16

Indian street, much like my home street, and I was placed in the middle of it.  Old vehicles in old garages, other homes, tools, or lack thereof.  A man with an infected leg, I see has still not gotten treatment for it, even after creating a desk outside.  Not getting well-recognized (mother turns child away) when I waved.

2011.12.15

Vivid dreams.  Why remember the details?

2011.12.12

Real-time simulation of cars being pushed around (weather environment options); modeling of a gratuitous tower next to a bridge.  All of this is with basic detail, so much in frame with consistent 50 fps.  I failed to reproduce the tower, ending up looking a little like that superconductor piece in the 2006.09 Scientific American.  I flooded the lower bridge...watch those cars go down stream.

2011.12.12

Youthful time, with some fights and gags (wait till later).  A long movie-dream ends with the male employees chanting “free speech” when the boss orders a gag order on the female employee for turning up incriminating papers.

Next dream had some late-night show where Keenan Thompson would come up instead of a babe(?) on the feed as a lawyer or something.  A whole list, which I tracked—appearances of Thompson.  Another list from the side of a building, then on a magazine, I discovered I was counting empty spaces that weren’t empty—they were headings for sections.  At one point, I was talking to Conan O’Brien about the pattern in the K.T. list.

Last dream was another movie-dream cut short with serious thought into the waking dream.  I was part of a group that...well, we crafted a pen(?) that switches between truck coming out of a tunnel and another means of transportation with topless chicks; simply close and reopen for the switch.  There was that Dixie car horn sound effect for the truck side.  There was a close call or two, including one with a cop.  (The truck came up those times.)  The older, grandfather-like figure, as a mentor or such, asked me whether I stick to what is right under confrontation.  I reduced my answer in the waking dream: God will always protect you so long as you’re not one dimensional...basically.  The pen, at least, has two sides.  Hold true to your principles after finding them yourself.

2011.12.09

Sliders-type movie, except opening doors, like in The Adjustment Bureau; male character at the last minute finds he’s home after thinking he wasn’t, when what he saw was acting (fake); he finds his love and settles down (marries).  Some Where the Wild Things Are content (and failure, A.I. sending him back on command, slowly).

Lastly, a MacFCEU that ran in real-time — a reduction of latency did it??

More sleep...thick magazine (Vanity Fair?), mind-generated, page after page; a whole story on a movie, other things.

2011.12.08

Some Marathon stuff (I actually made something, even though I can’t); some sort of GameFly other, and the form with all the personal info you can think of...then there’s “funny name” for a relative, like “potato-____-head.”  Song, in-dream: All the other kids, with their pumped up kicks; better run, better run, faster than my gun.

2011.12.07

Moving men took everything, including makeshift radio and large battery; room left bare; other room had pending designs—eviction?  The guys were listening to the radio prior to moving it out, while I was still in bed...I was in that room.  The reactions (scoff), listening to [guess].

2011.12.06

Two dessert things were put in the “recycle” box.  Running HC stacks in HyperStudio?  A color card version of a magazine cover.  And the monitor gradually started working...  And then it became wide-screen, the image at first cropped to 4:3.  The old Chicago font, everything mentally rendered accurately.

2011.12.05

Had some regular elements and some unusual, such as rotten teeth...

2011.12.02

Newspaper book article goes as far as breaking up text in A-B-C blocks (“See A,” “See B”...) to compress it all.  Or maybe a giant poem that repeats?

2011.12.01

Mentally-generated issue of TNY, words forming as slow as cell division (writing on the spot is difficult).

Some alt. version of Terminator 2, where bodies are pilling up, multiple sets, and Laurie Metcalf on SNL, reacting to a boyfriend not showing up, with some obscenities.  (The boyfriend was killed by a ‘Schwarzenegger.’)  The camera actually had SNL uncensored on it... Hmmm.  Is that a premonition that the indecency rules will be removed?

No cable, but a distorted, large television in another room is picking up over-the-air channels (only in dream; I tried and failed, since DTV went into effect).  Some sports channels can be selected and manually assigned to channel numbers?

This T2, showing in theater, had its credits sped up.  Copyright info places it at 1998?

2011.11.30

Knight Rider movie prequel, Cosby character funeral (and racist misspelling of names, and our gang killed a dog), MacFCEU accidentally on display with smooth sound (forced to turn down volume)—other features not in it include features in a dialog.

Carroll O’Connor was kind of the bad guy in the prequel thing (crooked)...unruly guests on a coast, traps, only for this guy to profit?  Somehow O’Connor was still alive and Hasselhoff isn’t?  The Hoff was overdubbed, his face possibly superimposed on an actor.

2011.11.29

Looking at installing, testing building installations...in avoiding been caught after using the shower, I wrap myself w/ a shower curtain, and get on a bus.  And then the bus starts moving!  I ask a conversing group whether I could borrow some underwear, and the girls/women laugh.  One hands me a black pair of wool(?) panties.  I get off the bus before I got too far.

Jump ahead, suddenly, wearing pants again, editing headlines; one has Anthony Anderson as some rap star, protesting.

2011.11.28

Somehow invited to run a place; guy proves to gal he can solve a problem using the SimCity-like interface on the computer—blowtorch, remotely.  And where two of the “gang” were.  Other things happened I can’t remember.

2011.11.26

Even the pro driver gets cutesy terms in his 1,700 evaluated score.  There was some action and abandonment (my character left). Some Simpsons-like elements.  Influenced by Tree of Life, this was overwhelmingly homely—the plot jumped around.  Catapulting?  Car chase?  I can’t confirm those two, but a lot of walking and yet more tricks on avoiding being caught around the house again.

2011.11.24

A computer in back area, only for some female student to get me to search for something that has a lot of sports comments on the resulting page.  Obama this and that, then baseball stuff.  After that, Lincoln’s Gettysburg Addr. messed up: “Four score and 20 years ago, our forefathers,” followed by inconsistencies.

2011.11.20

The perfect dream, maybe.  The ability to control dreams (lucid) becomes a business.  The beginning was flaky and sometimes nightmarish: relative shapes would turn into figures, as I would see a woman for the pile of coverings going onto the floor.  It was at first almost like a game; basic edge templates, like the corner before a hallway, would be stuck.  I did manage to get a virtual George Wendt, plus other characters, spectators to join.  I, of course, had to spill the beans in saying he wasn’t fat or old enough to be the real Wendt— almost as if he was straight from Cheers.

Skip ahead to the virtual duck pond display, like a digitally animated commercial, where animals in the pond do an expensive sequence like human swimmers, with some splashes.  That thing led to me walking as part of a group, being asked what the soil means...putting some of it in my mouth, responding with, “drought,” only to get a not-so-positive response that there was more than enough water on the deeper side of the lake I wasn’t aware of until looking at it.

Skip ahead to the quantum-entangled Jean Claude Van Dammes (maybe as much as a dozen of them): some sinister force decides to pool them together, take advantage of the fact that their duplicates instantly distribute energy—whatever happens to one happens to the other—by blowing them up, multiplying the “remote detonation” via their quantum entanglement.  We stopped the remote bombings by getting there in time, even if it meant killing(?) some JCVDs.  I do remember traveling on a bus with one.  You can perform a realistic simulation, or even test the remote bombing theory on dummies, but how dare you try to test it on real people!

The end had me as an employee to the business, at terminal, out of a vast number of people w/ monitor-in-front.  They were all communicating by computer, screen graphics et al.  They could experience dreams with one another, but instead chose to communicate via computer!  I thought about asking one woman out on a date, but the scene of this endless, turning hill of a network was too grotesque.  Not to mention (although I’m doing that here) inconsistencies in the woman’s face.  Fluid in the literal detail again.  Fictional characters would not remain constant.

2011.11.19

A lot of visual processing for these dreams; new channels, including “A&E Sports.”  In magazine fliers, a teen was somehow “age 27.”  It changed to “age 56.”

2011.11.18

The ability to restart journey (dream) after chasing a woman after a flight, leads a man lost, followed (woman’s a spy?).  With multiple settings, including...another school?

Next dream in sleeping till 2:32 p.m. included console rentals going out of business prior to rental stores like BlockBuster.  The kind of dream where you see many people, and many people slowly leaving due to affordability (or lack thereof).  One man said he’d stick to what he has.  Oh, the old and new X-Box.

Finally, turning a 3-setting flashlight, w/ some functional resemblance to the LED flashlight, into one with...a 50 W lamp, and weird little indicator bulbs, other switches.  Small sparks made in testing contacts for short circuits, with the multimeter in hand.  Powered by C and D cells—a device already using aluminum foil?  And then I ranted on about the transistor packs, I could build a timer.

2011.11.17

Working monitor (for the most part), most bugs in od28-6 fixed.  Only in my dreams now...

2011.11.15

Lies in my dream, a waste of time writing down on a piece of paper (in-dream) that the copyright info read 2010.11.xx, or even in 2011.  Once I remembered the dates for The Fragile were all supposed to be 1999, they started changing on the table-formatted booklet, however they were still in my uniform format.  Maybe they were dates for later songs...that I don’t own a copy of.  The month and day are irrelevant in terms of Copyright.  Date of being written/completed?  Why am I still talking about it if it’s crap?

2011.11.14

10 hr sleep: opening doors that don’t exist to put something back w/o being caught.  This comes after organizing quips for a transparency sign (old, back-lit sign) gag, where David Letterman just had to be on.

2011.11.06

Dream went to bus, controlling imagination—waking self to do some harm...all unreal, missing elements.

2011.11.04

First reproducing voices over silence...
Only in my dreams do I get a response/comments on SourceForge-related questions in getting PPC od28-6 to work (I’ve only recently found out that I need to make QuickTimeLib ‘weak’).

The last dream was the Family Matters cast on a plane, then on a bus, blasting music to the show (theme song), seeing how many fans would come out.  I lost count at 50.

2011.11.02

T’was the second time in recent days that I slept for half a day, cold vs. comfort.
I kept trying to test limits.  One dream was D.J. Qualls and the lead actor in Captain American (Chris Evans) showing the transformation on live TV, which had bad lighting (sunlight of skyscraper window as backlight), and eventually catching Robbie Coltrane having sex...

Another dream had me going up, down stairs, and at one pt. blasting a locked door to help someone through.  Acting/Medic/Voting ward?

2011.10.31

Marathon, with a bit of nightmarish elements I added (only challenging).  And then there’s the Scrubs element... monsters that you can’t kill, throw translucent fire, and give...wisdom.  I got myself (as J.D.) back into bed, with other characters conveniently there in the bedroom— it must be a trick.  So I test my surroundings by screaming.  They hardly react.

Other strange-but-useful dreams came during my 6 out of 10 tooth/growth pain, as I thought I’d not be able to sleep, but did, and in a 1-6 a.m. window after watching Joseph Frank “Buster” Keaton’s last film role, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966).

2011.10.29

Earlier, it was the rigmarole of physically moving around, down streets, in a movie store place, where, of course, I wasn’t the one driving (I still don’t have a license).

The merging of different shows (to save money?): some backwoods thing (My Name is Earl?) and...some stupid show like 30 Rock (live-action, expensive but resets by 1/2 episodes).  Yeah, I called 30 Rock stupid; I already live in limbo— why watch it?

The merging of the recent ep. of South Park and iCarly/SpongeBob, where in order for characters to do their job on stage, they get a lobotomy by another?  I sit in awe as they use the word ‘blowj-b’ like the word ‘crap’ and still get a TV-G rating, the ‘nick’ logo on the bottom-right of the screen, and there’s Carson Daly giving a quick backstage interview in the middle of the stage show.

2011.10.26

More lucid dreams, which include a spy(?) plot, seeing it before: getting locked in a glass room right next to a hall, in a mall/office building.  I was forced to answer questions, then encouraged to eat...muffins (influenced by South Park).  Bad guy looked like Kevin Spacey?  The details, in walking around, were entirely consistent with exception to the characters of a serial no. (my short-term memory recognized the unconscious memory’s faults).  The rendering was perfect, but the characters were volatile, even while reading.

I remember Andy Levy jokingly referring to Redeye as a mundane news program.

2011.10.16

My dreams are becoming too real: actually working on the virtual machine instruction set for the interpreter compiled scripting language.  Working in my sleep!  And with premonitions...

2011.10.14

Influenced by notions awake: a lucid dream within a dream, over ideas and success, or lack thereof.

I foresaw the light that’d burn out in a dream.  It’s a 1/4 chance, and it wasn’t predicted.  It was seen.  How many elements of my dreams are exactly true?  They are increasing.

2011.10.11

Perfect 100 score on test after studying.  Just a dream.

2011.10.06

Yet another hypersexualized dream.

2011.10.04

My brains have tapped into something, but the pen I’m used to has been taken.  Rain.  Another pen like the one I was using...just ran out of ink.  I remember of a dream of eating the lower burger, partly eaten with the top by the person in the driver’s seat.  Classroom(?) St. authority, or just a a parking lot?  Genius IQ today, perhaps.

What was getting to someone to play Mantra turned into some advanced live-scrolling game that resembles Oxyd.  Pipes, shifts and bomb power-ups.  You never fall in, so not quite Oxyd, but no non-mechanized characters—if you can call them characters.  Time-out got me into keeping track of time-left in bottom-left of screen, but now the player is hitting blocks that increase it, sometimes by 1000 pts.

Some 3-D portal was struck, turning the 2-D into a 3-D FPS @ fps!  No blood, only amazing visuals.  It turns into a sight of “my model wife,” w/ some pronounced cheek bones.  The face was mostly consistent.  Song: Something I want, ’cause I’m in love/something I need, ’cause I’m in love.  Or was it “I want it ’cause I...”?

2011.10.03

Last time it was the help.
This time it was the chase and setup, and looking for something at the wrong location, IIIs (3s) in the exchanges on TV (rises, specific), the urination, and... having to clean up my mess, but forgetting about it.

The strategy in getting up the artificial hill with the artificial bridge and ladder.
In the next dream, I end up cutting off excess foresk— okay, that’s enough.

2011.09.28

A stupid dream that ended up revolving around setting up a cardboard wall, and prices of two monitors.  At least the two models/prices were consistent: $2,699 model has 3MB...VRAM (1080p); $2,499 without.  It’s stupid because monitors don’t need VRAM, and this’s all I can remember.

2011.09.27

Before the construction crew arrives to take care of the rubble in the front yard, I was thinking about how I was gonna kill Dead Said Fred— I’m too sexy for my life, and what?  He walks off the top of a building?

2011.09.26

Leads into semi-lucid hallway dream: a man that works there wants to vaccinate me, however with actions not sanitary— no sterilization, a used needle?  I tell others of his attempt...and then I don’t see him working there next time.  My mother looked younger...trying to recall the face.  And, of course, I focus on the attractive women.

2011.09.21

Semi-lucid dream, building elements and all (stairs, rooms).  I gotta stop the humiliatin’ gamblin’, to nudity in public (Asian woman in a small car taking off shirt as part of a stunt), crowd forming, getting into the building, to the bathroom.

2011.09.20

First the storm, when driving down—almost like a second moon forming, or a black hole.  All outside: the cereal, flashing warning lights, then risking my life in going outside during the very threatening circumstances.

The vegetation, all rendered by my brain—it was like actually walking around, outside the house.  Well, a house.  We skipped to blend in with the non-police authority, where some dumb racist jokes didn’t follow overreaction.  I’m used to it.  They say you’re not Canadian unless you’re red.  Oh, the interpretations of that can go all the way to the bank.  In the red.

2011.09.17

Complex bank heist movie: guy plans on using the insanity defense to store the money he robbed at the bank in the place of stay after sentencing.  Tennis court, lockers, halls and medical areas.  The problem: something went wrong, he gets full amnesia.  He discovers that the memories come back in an “artistic manner,” in “psychotic dreams” whenever he eats a lot of fruit.  One sequence in this 1980s-era film uses “teenage mutant turtles”.  The audience only sees/knows what he sees—almost nothing until the past is all put together.  He’s eventually released, has a giant amount of fruit in a large commercialized treat he bought, gets his memory back, gets the money, free as a bird.  This film dream was influenced by films like Wicked, Wicked (1967).  Ehhh, ain’t I a writ’a? [chomping on carrot.]

2011.09.01

I’ve been getting some elaborate dreams, but haven’t been writing them down.  First the crowding, now the event and action... which I waste my time on a menubar edge (corner) dithering by-hand, a monitor that partly works (real enough)—a lousy explanation of several vertical bulbs (12?).

2011.08.19

Somewhat normal, somewhat sci-fi until I enter a supermarket.  Black&white flat images for food items on one aisle, more flat— almost like in Marathon, except cheaper.  And like a video game, I’m finding myself trying to get away, climbing up the things on the wall, onto many fake-hanging fluorescent fixtures, as well as the near-flat displays, from this giant monster made of items.  The monster goes to the north end of the store.

I have to make no. 1, so I scan the doors on the wall, but see that all of them have locks.  A human-looking daughter of the monster comes up to me, as if the children are part of the ball, but when detached look human.  “Mother doesn’t like people filling up the bowls on the wedding day.”  I bargain, now outside after backing off a bit, saying, “What if I don’t have to do as much.”  It’s quite a distance to the next bathroom, I barely see the car in the small front parking lot, but the girl says, “Well, if you don’t have to go much, then you can go somewhere else.”

2011.08.13

Cartman decides to write/perform folk music...for another planet, aliens, so the music’s written in hieroglyphics—graphic form, instead of English.  It gives me an idea to write a story with images: desert(?), 1920s car, tank, flat tire, 1930s car, women in movies of different eras portraying women in the 18th Century.

2011.08.12

A dream that was so lifelike and wonderful that...it’s forgotten.

2011.08.08

Walking outside the house— the house now unattended, an attractive woman looks at me in a warm manner while jogging past to a group.  I see a small fire below a plant— not burning the plant, as if the fuel source was from below.  Walking back I overhear a group talking an eighth-mile south, so I went down the longer-than-actual porch stairs to eavesdrop on the group.  Someone’s into Marathon?  Oh, yeah, it’s a jogging group.  I go back inside, but notice the fire is still lit...the fuel source must be coming from the house, the plumbing— the basement!  My pulse pounding as I wake up.

2011.08.06

Student murder mob, like that secret Skull frat film.  This time many in packed-crowd form targeted my character, pushing me into a death trap of a room w/o looking at me.  I opened one door, saw that it didn’t connect to a room, instead having a deathly drop onto a floor far below.  To hell with it— I imagined my character falling to his death.

2011.08.04

A con artist gets into medical school system, but a student there creates a gas attack with one of the labs, while the crook on call can’t figure whether to wear his bluish uniform...fire fighter?  We see the insane student using blunt fire extinguishers to break glass partitions to classes holding students, exposing them to the gas.  Ironic— fire extinguishers used for air ventilation that’d make a lab fire worse.  I lead only a few out of the building into the streets, the streets still active and not closed off.  I see a large parking lot type building ahead.  I try to tell people to get to a hospital, but I see only three running away.

2011.07.30

A male student drives like an expert when drunk, and so a magic female director —in dashboard form— gets him out of a sticky situation.  They both call each other “minion”?  And then comes the gags toward the end of the movie: getting thine enemies to literally eat sh--.  The jock gets his head stuck in a vase thing w/ powdered sh--.  And the guy gets the girl and the girl.

2011.07.24

Faulty rendering in the od28-6 project carried over to a blend of SMB3/Krusty’s Fun House.  Bad tiles used, yet everything was playable.  No sound, though, so I ended up doing the “alien“ theme music myself.  I kept going up to higher areas, but there wasn’t any end.  Adjusting a delta, things showed up better, but Krusty showed up as Flanders.  The balls and chains, like in SMB3, came earlier.

2011.07.08

Impersonating Piers Morgan, teaching a class.  I can’t maintain an accent, even though I couldn’t sound like Morgan anyway, but no one cared.

In the next dream, I got what looked like Aleph One to work on an old machine.  Modest frame rates with interpolation.  Bad shapes meant bad-looking monsters.  The HUD below, which looked more like a terminal than a HUD, was rotating, using three surfaces to look like a curved, helmet-worn thing.  Low-res. held weapon spanned only some 4px in width, made worse by the invisibility cheat.

The last dream ended with mystery and a chase up and down a hill…and out a bedroom.

2011.06.29

Two/three soldiers, one of them played by Rob Corddry, in a somehow well-educated middle-eastern country following protocols of what to do with P.O.W.s or what-have-you when knocking them out.  At some point, the two that’re walking up a hill, Corddry still talking, get knocked out by two Arab-looking soldiers via butt of rifle, following similar protocols in Arabic...

Decades later, when the two U.S. soldiers are at one of their homes, the older one that’s at his last moments, played by another actor I recognize but can’t name, dies sitting down, eyes somewhat open, falling a-big-sleep to the other guy’s boring words.  The dream ends when Corddry’s character has to react— call 911?

2011.06.27

Movie: a wild car crash in front of a house, maybe a pool.  Two young adults involved, the female spends time at the male’s place; moment by moment, eventually they made love.  The guy reminisces— her bra, still in the bed, gets on his face.  One of the older relatives reveals that there was a child in the car that crashed but no one in the story up till now new.  The male knows he could talk to the universe, is about to test his persistence by trying to talk to the trees in order to know what happened.  I wake up.

600 additional characters, the sound of rain without seeing it with sight.  The world coming to an end when you take the wheel is proverbially correct.  You’ve changed things, and a new world approaches.  Aim for good consequences over bad— you know this.  And now the 600 is 900.

2011.06.22

The scene I reach in a map I know of that features an exit sign above to the left and a giant, fully 3-D dragon to the right.  Neither could I take a snapshot nor can I pause, as if I’m in a network game.  Damn bugs.  The dragon was courteous in hearing me say all ’that to back off so I could redo.  I woke up with drool and what I thought was blood.  Getting 5 hours, it turned out that the “blood” was just the rose print on the pillow case of flowers and the saliva was only on my face.

After I typed that paragraph I encountered a mosquito full of actual blood (got on my hands in killing it with my bare hands)...  Mosquitos are regarded as the most dangerous animal in the world due to the transmission of malaria.  That’s kind of like saying syringes are the most dangerous animals in the world.  Damn bugs.

2011.06.11

I forgot the lame dream, so here’s the waking dream...
I’m a small kid, sitting next to a girl, and a bully threatens to beat us up if we don’t get pregnant.  I speak of the fact of impossibility since the girl’s not old enough, but that didn’t stop anything.  The girl was pretty open when I explained why she couldn’t get preggers...in detail.  She even asked some questions when I went the whole nine yards, acting like a Sex Ed teacher.  Only the basics.

At some point I learn that her name is Megan.  (That quickly popped into my head when I generated it later on in the story.)  After she unexpectedly broke a friendship with one of the other girls that insisted I have no credibility with all of what I said, I had to tell her that I wasn’t going to be around for much longer and that my actual age is 27.  After digging into how “I got held back a lot,” I finally admit that I’m from 2011.

So you got into a time machine? she said.  Oh, no, time travel is impossible— my mind was send back in an experiment, I responded, but could definitely tell that she had already started doubting my credibility.  I managed to get my name out, but only my name and a couple of pieces of paper I’d already written on that contain future events got through.

Before you know it I was out of the body that was used, and this “Mike” was confused when Megan ended up meeting again.  It wasn’t long before she recognized how mature my voice was compared to the kid now sitting next to her.  There wasn’t much time to think before the bully came over to make “good” on his threat.  Mike still had no idea what Megan was saying, the bully was getting frustrated, but with Megan’s persistence the bully got weirded out, saying, it’s not worth it beating up a girl.

As desperate I think I am in story telling, relationships failed to work out for Megan, and she tried to find any kind of contact information on the scraps of paper I’d written, only to find a website that’s valid since a couple of years ago in the present.  She finally managed to get an e-mail address from a web site, and tried four times to get a response.  And that’s where I come to my senses, braking from the writing process, Saving Private Ryan on TNT again.

2011.06.08

After a new ep. of [guess], the ep. of Friday’s show came on.  Watching something else, the TV starts suddenly having that expanding projection problem until it shuts off by draining too much power.  The bigger problem is that no matter how I try to find the right button sequence—even with some service I don’t have in real life—the television persistently comes back on, only to shut off each time!  I go through the process of unplugging everything in the wall surge protector (and much more easily than in real life), until I finally get to the plug for the TV.  It shuts off...but a faint image of a broadcast comes back on, as supposedly the CRT has enough energy to keep the damn thing somewhat on again!  And so I plug back everything else, then watch.

Insects in the ceiling, and waking thoughts of recurring disgust in Jon Stewart’s know-it-all ignorance after another hyperbolic narrative of an excuse to ignore, baby.

This morning, I heard a guest, a writer saying he only writes some thousand words a day, then all of the sudden 10,000?  I just frickin’ wrote 3,500— 1,000 characters on the spot, in HTML, only excluding detail I find useless—not to mention exclusion for compression reasons.  And when I edit these pages like crazy, I mean like crazy.  Including more mundane/obvious detail in what I do or have done, 3,612 words in all now, not counting HTML or this sentence, nor the next sentence.  This writer is a dreamer and a realist in one bulging, pulsating, engorg— okay, that’s enough A. Weiner for today, preferably forever.  I’m the King of the Wor—! nothing.

2011.05.29

Trying to keep things contained failed—a missile sent wound up blowing a part of the city indiscriminately...this all came after there being less of the house to sleep in—well, that part is real.  After all the explosions, the end involved the hand of god (me) trying to pick up the phone, my brain reacting to the ringing in The Big Lebowski, after I left the TV on, Ovation on in the afternoon.

I’m getting 5 hrs a day of sleep with the insects in the ceiling loudly eating away the insulation— like sleeping with fire.

2011.05.27

The villainous network/food chain is drawn out for a movie-type dream.  That chain becomes a commercial graphic.  With the people involved, however, the bad guys manage to get away by posing as police, picking up their friends in the back of a police car in one scene.  In the end, at least one of our beloved characters out of nowhere is shot with sniper rounds.

The next dream ends with Momo towing her car, going to a hotel.

2011.05.16

A second computer, and w/o one of them on, playing games off the flash drive?  A floppy drive existed on the side of this beige/old machine.

2011.05.03

That’s great—another dream where the character in focus is taken advantage of.  They catch him mastu— I think I’ll stop there with the details.  The dream was really like a movie or cartoon, where the unpopular kid is screwed again.  And I don’t mean ‘screwed’ as in ‘lai— I did it again.  Wasting time after 6 hrs sleep.  That I’m  gonna make a scene...You’re special (special); I gotta have some of your  attention, -tension.

2011.04.30

The bounce in their step (literally) solves the problem of men beating their wives. I need a Dr.…; I need a Dr, Dr…to bring me to life.  Long halls and bathrooms you’d might not think were there, talking to the custodian, with relation?  And now we can get somewhere—I can’t remember—on time?  A dream fit enough for a kink.

The “pro” to the con: drool and bladder/sexl. dysfunction got me up so I won’t lose this dream so I can enter it.  And after being up for too long again for nothing, nothing to show for, <4 hrs of sleep—Momo ain’t the brightest bulb in the pack...if there are any bulbs in the pack.

2011.04.29

Dream within dream, vivid, and a plot/movie that’s a lifetime long.
The place was robbed—the remote but not the CRT television, DVD player, old monitor and computer.  Oh, look— the remote cover...it was really some sort of cover for silverware...  Whether it be a failing CFL in a light bulb socket or a tube in the...cupboard—that part’s a bit crappy.

The featured character’s hair turns gray, as his job is executed into old age.  I end up seeing him, knowing his future—or past—in some sort of attendance.

2011.04.26

You find out that the teacher, apart from the clerk/assistant, is gay and may want to %*@! you, and you walk.
Big Love wrapped up (in-dream), and Momo wants to act some of it out.  I’d rather her still not be here at this point...pleasuring myse—.

2011.04.25

I get in trouble offending a little brother of a larger one; the little bastid caused some destruction, ripped into a map I was making for a friend.  Before all that jazz (he had it comin’; he only had himself to blame...I’d bet that you would have done the same), the map had come to life—Forge couldn’t compare to this editor...

2011.04.24

FCEU movie loading into a modern 3-D blend of Super Mario Bros.  Underground, picking up an object, a “bull-it” is killed colliding with the object I’m currently holding.  When the movie stopped, I raced to the exit.  The pipe going up had bridge support...

The incline for pulling down the flag difficult to see.  I thought half of it wasn’t there, yet it was all there—part of it black, against a black background.  The short jumping distance to the flag was short enough that I jumped over the flag.  I then stood on a gray [?] block in full 3-D.  It’s at that point that some ‘ooo’ pass code ‘flew’ onto the screen, letter by letter.  I (falsely) recall already completing the entire game—I don’t need this.

2011.04.22

After all what mattered more, and other dreams before this I can hardly remember, the aliens had arrived.
Observing a movie theater operation—one’s trying to cut back on costs by having fewer ceiling lamps, and the manager wants nitrogen lights.  Someone may be fired.  In the middle of a performance, in such a cesspool of humanity, when I put my hands together, I thought about enacting Christ and leading people out of there, even if it meant going through the humility of not getting anyone.

Things changed all of the sudden.  Still a programmer, the versatility of my program routines would have to wait.  The aliens had arrived.  They had nearly surrounded the building, camouflaged as...cars.  You could see in the shadow the outline of a tank, but people just walked on as if everything was normal.  A tank that the aliens had optically made to appear like a car fired on occasion.  And people wouldn’t notice?  At least that’s what I told myself.  A slow-moving round projectile that came out of the turret passed through objects, incinerating them.  A whole person was just gone.

I thought I could walk out of there and go, maybe warn people.  What am I kidding, I don’t remember thinking about warning people.  I’m such a careless bastar—I saw more of them.  I saw the projectile remove somebody’s legs on the spot.  The guy wasn’t running away, it seemed—everything moved so slowly.  He can’t run now—they’d removed his legs!  Maybe they won’t see me if I moved slowly.

It became like a small war zone outside of a store chain, as I saw that same outline of a tank for cars all over the parking lot, but I had managed to get inside one of the stores before they would start targeting me.  I wasn’t alone; someone else had seen them—maybe the owner of this store—and I think he’s locked and loaded.  He seemed to trust me, didn’t care to check whether I was one of them.  Maybe the hostile extra terrestrials only looked like cars under plain light, or maybe out of their “tanks” they didn’t look human.  Maybe neither of us have seen them w/o camo.  The only thing that was certain...I was going to be stuck for a long time.

2011.04.17

Observing, preparing for the other ceiling section in the bedroom to come down—based on the reality.
The pseudo-family is at the superstore, including Judah Friedlander, and Mark (bastid) decides to break his pocket multi-device, even though I show him it’s games, including some Jerry Seinfeld-inspired version of Super Mario... The kid creates a disturbance, and I try not to be seen with him after a certain point.  Dodgily dodging, I manage to get to the part of the building that’s entrance-only —Crap.  I see Judah reentering.

2011.04.14

Holy Zombie trilogy, Batman!  Quite a lot happens when your brain does what it can to distract you from...well, in my case, the house falling apart.
The zombies in the last dream can talk!  Some use knives as well.  I don’t remember them wanting brains, though—Nihilistic kids.  Oh— not zombies, kids of tomorrow.

Bringing power to something by throwing an alligator line up to the power lines?  That was one of the stupid things dreamt.

2011.04.11

A lot of wonderful things happen in this elaborate set of dreams.  The only thing I can remember, however, due to the fact that I don’t typically write this down on paper.

What I can recall: inconsistent nuts/peanuts for teeth, many missing.  3 hrs sleep for this.

2011.04.09

Quite an elaborate dream.
After all of the “communications with other worlds,” there’s now some sort of alien foster program?  My mother signs up w/o telling me.  At one point I was sitting in the car watching her and another guy climb over a roof...ladders on the rooftop.

A man and a woman, that look human, talk to me about how they’re my new parents, or something.  One of them are played by Carla Guiggino.

Authorities showed up at the end.  Among the children, I ran.  Cutting in line this time meant first facing an officer.  Hold it.  He got some commands, somehow getting a ‘CLI’ command, and asked me what ‘CLI’ meant.  “Uh, the only CLI I know is an abbreviation for ‘Clear Interrupt.’”  A plot point so stupid that I woke up.

2011.04.05

Another elaborate dream comes down to...cable channels, a change in line-up, and some Showtime™ preview.

2011.03.31

I appear to miss the small plane ticket out of the place, after everyone else...then cars?  The corresponding pathway looked like the real-life driveway.  I need to get out more.

In the ending dream, the “employer” character for a “landscaper” thinks Mr. T was the one who said, they call me Mr. Pibb.

2011.03.26

Murder mystery—I killed someone (as a woman?), and threw the weapon (a sharp object) into the sea off a cliff.

Old date recording practices, as if I did that way back when, this time not as a student, but at a school nonetheless.  The ending: digitally painting an image, yellows and reds, 3/6 color gradients around a rod-like shape.

2011.03.23

I’ll just skip to the last one because the rest of them suck.
It was kind of a lucid dream, where in order to get out of a sticky situation I knocked two heads and walked away...female heads— sort of bashing the MTV “Wet Dream” programming, as I call it.  After two of the girls—with possibly inconsistent hair—started going after me, in a crowded school that turned into something based on the Gorham USM, I tried to ditch them in the hallway, using the door on my left.  They found me, I knocked heads again, and bolted.

In one of the last rooms down the hallway on my right, I meet an old woman that talked of people’s dreams being controlled by McDonald’s, Sony and a few other corporations she wrote on a small white board, and I told her, “through advertising, propaganda to promote their corporate shareholders?  That’s something already known; I already knew that.”  She then asked me if I knew what I was saying, as if I don’t have control...over my dreams.  (My life is another matter.)

The experience was set in the past, yet a few things were noticeably wrong: for one, where the library was supposed to be, a narrow computer lab was—the lab was downstairs before it was moved into the large library, not the other way around.  I knew it was the past because the computers were grayish-white desktop computers with two floppy drives.  And oh, the CRT monitors...the scene gradually came together.

In my seemingly empty left pants pocket was not a Zip disk but two floppies, much like what would’ve been at the High School I actually did attend.  One of the floppies had a “Return To Owner” warning on it, if I recall correctly.  Maybe I could upload my S/W here...in the past?

2011.03.21

Elaborate stuff turns into family stuff—trying to get a technical trick to work with (fictional) dad (not Brian).  I think there was some map making.

Waking dream: Japan tries to explain what’s happening at Dai-ichi, using a character named, “Blobzilla.”

2011.03.18

It was the fat guy (me, supposedly)—accused in a blend of a mall and a school.
Being a potential customer, an employee of an opening store follows me after I entered from the back in noticing items on the wall and a counter—almost like a Radio Shack®...I ran down the stairs to evade the employee wanting me to be a customer, cutting a corner after completing a flight of stairs.
People are more welcoming in my dreams than in real life. The U.S. pop. has lost its morals.

2011.03.17

Nudity printed on a special roll of toilet paper—The Hangover 2?

2011.02.26

Another journey dream; different areas lead to more dangerous areas...a threat turned into the end of a bus.  Taking so long to enter this, I’ve now forgotten the rest.

2011.02.20

Rich (Dick) Dickles Show, and Jeopardy category.  A character finds himself waking up in the future—bleak; the people don’t have a clear picture of what happens now.

2011.02.12

More realistic dreams: Iran empowers (emboldens, not liberates) while the U.S. discourages, and seeing the burn-in of a CRT-based TelePrompter.  I also made a soft attempt at a relationship... kind of.

2011.02.11

C.G. imaging with equipment I don’t have.

2011.02.07

Another classroom scenario... We had to evacuate due to Watts riots, the teacher says.  There may have been a small outdoors scene.

2011.02.05

An od28-6-looking program on the desktop, w/ the title, The Revolution Now!  The editing process requires only minor mods, and the editor’s sound testing menu, which features a ‘Scale’ item trumpets even when you click the menu.  Fmr. drill sergeant Army Lee on TV (Colbert Report—an uncensored clip of him yelling motherf**ker!

I damn near pissed myself typing this in; someone was occupying the bathroom.

2011.01.31

A lot of things happened, yet there wasn’t any traveling.
A hole in the bathroom wall that has supposedly always been there, but covered?  The Simpsons appear again, where Ralph ends up looking like a sheep after rolling around with something white.  (I don’t get the yellow people influence—NFL coverage pushed the Simpsons off the schedule.)

More school daze.  A character I know reads an embarrassing message aloud in a movie theater.  I just moved around outside the room, watching, grinning.

2011.01.29

Still, with the technical junkarina!  I’ll skip that one, involving square roots?
A company w/ Asian CEO that goes under—action sequences in regards—he’s literally going down swinging, rather weird, and commentary on that.  My sound reproduction for music, containing high tones...which leads into prematurely ending a relationship.  I modify that last one to add a gratuitous shot, make the relationship 3 days instead of years—cap the frustration—a blow of the hair, and back to hard sleep she goes, head in pillow.  Oh-oh, Dream Weaver…

2011.01.27

Sort of a cable box interface, going through the channels, and the forgetting that it was five o’clock and I could’ve been watching the live broadcast of the program.  A stored program that was not currently available was labeled, “DISTORTED…,” then “WCSH 6  9[:xx] PM.”

An interesting plot to a story, and one where a kid sports a notebook that, when turned into a movie, the illustrations come to life, black, red ink and all.  Able to movie around on the set, I see the all-in-one computer is an actual computer (the cursor was blinking).

In the interface, regarding this movie program, I was able to go through the characters: the father, mother, cousin, other relatives—all by image, left, center and right.

2011.01.20

All of this and more in 2 hrs.
Called racist (again) for “going after the Pres.’ policies, anti-Semitic for (something)” I say.  “Greece wants to ban radio.”  This was an all-too-real dream, where I walked into the room of a (marketing?) team, even knocked on the table before fading back into the bedroom, where I fake-awaken.

The first realistic dream in a long time—maybe the most real, as if I was really there.  I’m trying not to make excuses.  As I tell them these things, one says, “unbelievable.”  I told them that I’m not exactly sure if all of this has happened yet, but my premonitions can be pretty accurate.  Behind the scenes, and the people that work there are pretty average-looking.

“They’re all liars, propagandists,” I said to myself abt. people on TV, almost as if I wasn’t sleeping.

I have to eat chocolate before sleep in order to have a good dream...I think.

2011.01.15

Perfect rendering of text and windows.  I can’t imagine jack when awake—a matter of weak confidence.  There’s little point in typing this day.

2011.01.07

A group, a plan, a building, corridors, halls, classr— another school?
A digit-to-letter puzzle, where you have to figure out the only word that fits.  A helping hand, maybe; I try to find something I wrote, but the kid I’m helping looks like he’s gonna go off to kill himself after I spent so much time looking for it.  All for a puzzle?  It’s got five traps, only executed once, I said.  Awful.

2011.01.03

Sort of like Zelda: the Humility Stone, and from a better quality to a Nintendo® 64 quality, and...X-Play-like review.  Anyway, once we finally get to activating the Humility thing...you wake up in your underwear in front of your family and guests.  And in the pool?  Humility stone.  The rich part is going to the computer to see your creation—the video game!  “I’m going to be rich!”

Later, pushing around a shopping cart, waiting for Momo...and seeing if any of the females find me attractive.  Minutes go by, going around the building, in circles.  So much time goes by that I start to think, maybe I should buy something—let’s see, some cookies, crappy cake—the store-made stuff.  What am I kidding?!  I have only a few items from earlier, and I can’t pay for any more.  I decide to rush to the cash registers, but some girl, with others, tries to outdo my speed, and then outdo other aspects as well.  Out of those, I say, sternly, “abstinence.”  She starts to bargain, and [her] thought processes I see—as I’m the author of these dreams—a schedule, and the same perfectionist pattern I saw before—optimizations for the assembly code I’ve been working on.