Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts
Friday, September 09, 2011
Forest Fired
Something to play while I share my dream.
It's not usual for me to feel uneasy in a woody setting. I'm usually at home in the forest, though I will sometimes get a little "antsy" around insects. I was hanging around the front of a cabin with my brother and his cronies who were planning a robbery. However, this robbery was so elaborate that they needed to ignite a forest fire in order to distract local residents and authorities from their actions. At first, I was curious about what they were up to, but after overhearing something about charcoal and gasoline, I decided that I'd rather not know. I was warned that I ought to stay close to the shore of the lake because they weren't sure how fast the flames would travel. They put their plan into action quicker than I had anticipated, because suddenly I felt hot and realized the trees around me were on fire. It was quite a run from the lake, and I headed toward it. I had to run through fiery bushes, and my pants had caught fire when I finally reached the lake. I tripped, but luckily it was one step before the edge of the pier, and I fell awkwardly into the lake.
As I looked back on the burning forest, I worried about my brother's safety. The next thought of doom that entered my head was that my iPhone was in my pocket! Motherfucker!
Suddenly, I was being questioned by the police. They had reports that it was arson. I said that I had no idea what happened. They returned a little later and asked to see my fingers. I remembered the coal that they were unloading from boxes. I had thrown a couple back into the box. I had some black smudges still on my fingers.
I decided to stick to my story.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Once in a Blood Moon
I was visiting my childhood home in Commerce, CA. Our family hasn't lived in that house since the early nineties, however, this past year, my mom and stepdad have moved back in. When I came in, the first person I wanted to meet was my parent's new son who was born while I was away living in Japan. He's already two years old, and this is the first time I'm meeting him. He's absolutely darling with a round, fresh face and charm that oozes out of him. In fact, when I was down on the floor, playing with him below the flat screen TV in the living room, I had a wave of jealousy. Why does my mom get to have this darling charmer of a child, when she said that she was done having children, yet I can't have one? I wanted to steal him. I was seriously considering it.
After spending some time playing and talking to him, I noticed two very particular things about this little fair-faced boy. First, that he was of above-average intelligence for a two-year-old child who was able to have full conversations while we were playing with the tiny cars on the floor. Second, he touched on a bit of macabre topics, wanting to crash the cars, cut open the cars with the jaws of life and chew on the bodies inside. I was a bit grossed out by his descriptive play and didn't think that was very normal for a little kid. HOW did he LEARN that kind of language, I wondered. I considered chalking it up to poor television censorship on my mom's part, but decided to go and talk to her about it.
I found her in the bedroom folding laundry and I lied down in a comfortable talking position, because I thought it might take some time to make my point. Surprisingly, all I had to say was "Mom, have you ever felt that something's not right with the baby?" She stopped folding and looked down at me, looking so sad and said, "yes, yes there is. He's got PSPT Syndrome. I didn't know what that was, but I decided to pretend that I did and figured I'd just Google it later, after she told me what happened. She didn't get a chance to tell me anything though, because somebody called her outside and she scrambled to look for her phone, then asked me to borrow mine. Her voice was urgent, so I just obliged. I didn't follow her out, and instead wondered what PSPT syndrome was, and was thinking about how I can figure it out before she came back to talk about it. I wondered what was going on outside, so I wandered out there.
I heard my name and my mom handed me my iPhone, and her face looked pissed off. Deciding that asking her what was wrong might warrant a long list of complaints, I decided to keep quiet for a little while. However, she couldn't hold it in. "Why do you have me listed in the Do not reply list? I was confused, and still am. I didn't know then, nor now what the "do not reply" setting on the iPhone meant, nor why my mom was added to that list. I told her that, but she didn't believe me. She wasn't yelling, but I could tell by her tone and facial expression that her feelings had been really hurt by finding out her status on my cell phone. As I was fiddling about with my phone, trying to figure out what that stupid "do not reply" check box even meant, as well as how to uncheck it. While messing around with my phone, I noticed the list of dialed calls that my mom had made when she was borrowing my phone. There were 2 calls to, and 4 missed calls from a Bellevue Mental Hospital. At first I thought it was some kind of trick, joke or mistake because I don't even think that mental hospitals are called mental hospitals anymore.
Anyway, I also saw a message sent to them, and I opened it. It had an attachment file, which I also opened. It was a help request form and had a bunch of boxes. It took awhile for my eyes to adjust to the format of the boxes and to figure out what it was. It was written in my mom's writing style describing an incident where the baby was found outside in the backyard fucking a cat. I was horrified and shocked by the words, so much so that I dropped my iPhone in the rose bushes, and I couldn't find it in the darkness, as it blended with the black soil. I again heard some commotion as well as cars parking in front of the house and I decided to find my phone afterward, and go see what was going on.
I walked in after my mom, some doctors who were dressed more like dog catchers, actually, they were wearing shirts that looked just like the Kuroneko worker's uniform.
I ran in behind the group and went the opposite route as them into the living room, since there's another entrance that wasn't blocked with people. As I was walking I heard the doctor shouting, "hey, how's the baby? I've missed the baby. Haven't seen him in a while." While he was saying those words in a loud, semi-condescending tone he looked toward my brother, Ricky, to guide him to the baby's whereabouts. Without a word, Ricky pointed to the closed closet doors. The doctor opens the door suddenly, and the baby runs out, holding a giant cooking knife, swinging it at the doctor, trying to slice his knees, shins, and stabbing down as if to pin the doctor's foot to the floor. Within seconds, the doctor successfully subdues him, pulls the knife from his grubby little hands and hands it upside-down to my mother who's standing by his side.
She takes it from him, and the doctor kneels to the ground, holding and calming the boy. My mom starts reprimanding the baby for his actions. "You're a bad boy! Bad boy!" And just as sudden as the child bolted out of the closet doors, my mom swipes the knife down very quickly as if to swipe it against his skin. At first, it seems like a very small cut. I'm extremely shocked by my mom's behaviour, of physically reprimanding the baby in front of the hospital staff. But suddenly, the wound is found to be bigger than expected. Suddenly the small line of blood leaking from the fissure turns into an all-out gushing wound, immediately covering his tiny body with blood. My mom, shocked by what she has done, grabs him from the floor by his neck, the way mommy cats do to their kittens. And that was the point, when I saw her running past me, with a dying bleeding baby in her hands, with me soooo sad for the baby, crying "don't let him die, don't let him die", when I woke up with a start.
My heart was racing. I was so scared. I felt vulnerable, that I could be stabbed at any moment, and wondered if I had locked the door. I woke Chu up. She quickly went back to sleep. I walked around the house, making sure nobody was inside, and I locked the door, and woke up Chu again. I told her the dream, but realized halfway that she went back to sleep again. I was so scared. So scared and bewildered, that I even considered Skyping home to my mom to tell her of this freaky ass dream that I had about her. It was 2;47am when I looked at the clock, which would be around 9-10am in the morning. But i decided against it, I had to work in the morning.
After spending some time playing and talking to him, I noticed two very particular things about this little fair-faced boy. First, that he was of above-average intelligence for a two-year-old child who was able to have full conversations while we were playing with the tiny cars on the floor. Second, he touched on a bit of macabre topics, wanting to crash the cars, cut open the cars with the jaws of life and chew on the bodies inside. I was a bit grossed out by his descriptive play and didn't think that was very normal for a little kid. HOW did he LEARN that kind of language, I wondered. I considered chalking it up to poor television censorship on my mom's part, but decided to go and talk to her about it.
I found her in the bedroom folding laundry and I lied down in a comfortable talking position, because I thought it might take some time to make my point. Surprisingly, all I had to say was "Mom, have you ever felt that something's not right with the baby?" She stopped folding and looked down at me, looking so sad and said, "yes, yes there is. He's got PSPT Syndrome. I didn't know what that was, but I decided to pretend that I did and figured I'd just Google it later, after she told me what happened. She didn't get a chance to tell me anything though, because somebody called her outside and she scrambled to look for her phone, then asked me to borrow mine. Her voice was urgent, so I just obliged. I didn't follow her out, and instead wondered what PSPT syndrome was, and was thinking about how I can figure it out before she came back to talk about it. I wondered what was going on outside, so I wandered out there.
I heard my name and my mom handed me my iPhone, and her face looked pissed off. Deciding that asking her what was wrong might warrant a long list of complaints, I decided to keep quiet for a little while. However, she couldn't hold it in. "Why do you have me listed in the Do not reply list? I was confused, and still am. I didn't know then, nor now what the "do not reply" setting on the iPhone meant, nor why my mom was added to that list. I told her that, but she didn't believe me. She wasn't yelling, but I could tell by her tone and facial expression that her feelings had been really hurt by finding out her status on my cell phone. As I was fiddling about with my phone, trying to figure out what that stupid "do not reply" check box even meant, as well as how to uncheck it. While messing around with my phone, I noticed the list of dialed calls that my mom had made when she was borrowing my phone. There were 2 calls to, and 4 missed calls from a Bellevue Mental Hospital. At first I thought it was some kind of trick, joke or mistake because I don't even think that mental hospitals are called mental hospitals anymore.
Anyway, I also saw a message sent to them, and I opened it. It had an attachment file, which I also opened. It was a help request form and had a bunch of boxes. It took awhile for my eyes to adjust to the format of the boxes and to figure out what it was. It was written in my mom's writing style describing an incident where the baby was found outside in the backyard fucking a cat. I was horrified and shocked by the words, so much so that I dropped my iPhone in the rose bushes, and I couldn't find it in the darkness, as it blended with the black soil. I again heard some commotion as well as cars parking in front of the house and I decided to find my phone afterward, and go see what was going on.
I walked in after my mom, some doctors who were dressed more like dog catchers, actually, they were wearing shirts that looked just like the Kuroneko worker's uniform.
I ran in behind the group and went the opposite route as them into the living room, since there's another entrance that wasn't blocked with people. As I was walking I heard the doctor shouting, "hey, how's the baby? I've missed the baby. Haven't seen him in a while." While he was saying those words in a loud, semi-condescending tone he looked toward my brother, Ricky, to guide him to the baby's whereabouts. Without a word, Ricky pointed to the closed closet doors. The doctor opens the door suddenly, and the baby runs out, holding a giant cooking knife, swinging it at the doctor, trying to slice his knees, shins, and stabbing down as if to pin the doctor's foot to the floor. Within seconds, the doctor successfully subdues him, pulls the knife from his grubby little hands and hands it upside-down to my mother who's standing by his side.
She takes it from him, and the doctor kneels to the ground, holding and calming the boy. My mom starts reprimanding the baby for his actions. "You're a bad boy! Bad boy!" And just as sudden as the child bolted out of the closet doors, my mom swipes the knife down very quickly as if to swipe it against his skin. At first, it seems like a very small cut. I'm extremely shocked by my mom's behaviour, of physically reprimanding the baby in front of the hospital staff. But suddenly, the wound is found to be bigger than expected. Suddenly the small line of blood leaking from the fissure turns into an all-out gushing wound, immediately covering his tiny body with blood. My mom, shocked by what she has done, grabs him from the floor by his neck, the way mommy cats do to their kittens. And that was the point, when I saw her running past me, with a dying bleeding baby in her hands, with me soooo sad for the baby, crying "don't let him die, don't let him die", when I woke up with a start.
My heart was racing. I was so scared. I felt vulnerable, that I could be stabbed at any moment, and wondered if I had locked the door. I woke Chu up. She quickly went back to sleep. I walked around the house, making sure nobody was inside, and I locked the door, and woke up Chu again. I told her the dream, but realized halfway that she went back to sleep again. I was so scared. So scared and bewildered, that I even considered Skyping home to my mom to tell her of this freaky ass dream that I had about her. It was 2;47am when I looked at the clock, which would be around 9-10am in the morning. But i decided against it, I had to work in the morning.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Fever Dream
Thursday, August 23rd, minutes before 9pm
Sydney from Sydney taps me on the shoulder and warns me about the barback. "He takes your drink from you before you're finished" he says. I thank him, but quietly make a note of where my drink is. I am drinking vegetable juice. Maybe there's Vodka in it, but you can't tell because veggie juice masks those things. I was wondering if I was drunk yet, and I see that barback walking in my direction. He has a stack of pint glasses about 6 feet tall in his hand. I become embarrassed to keep my drink because he has walked all the way over here with that giant stack. How heavy it must be, I thought, as he slipped the glass under the bottom of the stack. My juice fell to the floor. I began feeling hot and thirsty when Sydney from Sydney scares me from behind. "So Toby", he says in a hoarse voice, "you don't even notice El Diablo anymore, do ya?" I answered, "No."
Sometime between Saturday and Sunday
I'm making out with Nicolas Cage's second cousin at a wedding shower party for my dad. I can't keep my mind on the kiss because I'm wondering if this whole Nick Cage-second-cousin-thing is some kind of lie.
Last Night
I'm laying on a bench when I feel something fuzzy brush the back of the hand that's hanging just an inch from the ground. I open my eyes and I see a little monkey. I don't do anything. I'm not scared of it, so I don't get up, but I'm not impressed with it, so I don't try to grab it. I decide that it is a bit ugly and I hope it goes away. It doesn't. Instead, this monkey climbs onto my bench and lies on the curve of my back. I almost thought it was cute, but then I stuck to the initial judgment that it is ugly and I hope it goes away.
Night sweats are shit!
Earaches are shit!
Cough drops are shit!
Japanese over-the-counter pain relievers are shit!
Mitsuya Cider is shit!
Sensitive temples are shit!
Bacteria is shit!
TV Links is shit!
Throat spray is shit!
Celsius is shit!
People's blogs are shit!
Emergency rooms are shit!
Sydney from Sydney taps me on the shoulder and warns me about the barback. "He takes your drink from you before you're finished" he says. I thank him, but quietly make a note of where my drink is. I am drinking vegetable juice. Maybe there's Vodka in it, but you can't tell because veggie juice masks those things. I was wondering if I was drunk yet, and I see that barback walking in my direction. He has a stack of pint glasses about 6 feet tall in his hand. I become embarrassed to keep my drink because he has walked all the way over here with that giant stack. How heavy it must be, I thought, as he slipped the glass under the bottom of the stack. My juice fell to the floor. I began feeling hot and thirsty when Sydney from Sydney scares me from behind. "So Toby", he says in a hoarse voice, "you don't even notice El Diablo anymore, do ya?" I answered, "No."
Sometime between Saturday and Sunday
I'm making out with Nicolas Cage's second cousin at a wedding shower party for my dad. I can't keep my mind on the kiss because I'm wondering if this whole Nick Cage-second-cousin-thing is some kind of lie.
Last Night
I'm laying on a bench when I feel something fuzzy brush the back of the hand that's hanging just an inch from the ground. I open my eyes and I see a little monkey. I don't do anything. I'm not scared of it, so I don't get up, but I'm not impressed with it, so I don't try to grab it. I decide that it is a bit ugly and I hope it goes away. It doesn't. Instead, this monkey climbs onto my bench and lies on the curve of my back. I almost thought it was cute, but then I stuck to the initial judgment that it is ugly and I hope it goes away.
Night sweats are shit!
Earaches are shit!
Cough drops are shit!
Japanese over-the-counter pain relievers are shit!
Mitsuya Cider is shit!
Sensitive temples are shit!
Bacteria is shit!
TV Links is shit!
Throat spray is shit!
Celsius is shit!
People's blogs are shit!
Emergency rooms are shit!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
I must have been the Adversary.
I was sleeping soundly, when Batman had woken me up in the orphanage, handing me a little toy telephone that had a red, movable lever on its side. And as sudden as my waking blinks were over, he was gone again. What the hell was this little thing, I wondered. I pulled down on the little lever and suddenly my ears were in pain. There was an indistinguishably horrific sound coming from this little toy phone. Instinctively, I pushed the lever back up and the noise seemed to diminish by a couple decibals. Then, I noticed that the lever kept trying to go down. So I fought with the lever, holding it up while it insisted on going back down. I began to wonder how long I could do this before giving up. I decided to step on the phone, but something in the back of my mind told me that was not going to do any good. And it didn't. I smashed the toy and found the source of the noise. It was a flat, metal, circular object that resembled a watch battery. It vibrated when you touched it. Suddenly I was outside in an urban, American neighborhood that could have been Oakland, Long Beach, etc. I was walking quickly through the streets trying to find somewhere far to dump this annoying sound.
The thing i wonder now, as I recount my dream, is why I thought I was in an orphanage. There were many creaky metal beds with white sheets but no one was in them. I was in an old building, sleeping in a bed among many, alone. In my mind, that must be an orphanage.
Anyway, I finally was sick of looking, and wanted to drop this thing NOW. So i looked around, and just saw a couple of homeless masses huddled in the corners. So I flicked it the way I would a cigarette. And it landed on the white part of the street next to the curb. I turned to walk away, when I heard "hey, get that thing out of here." I looked to see who spoke, you know, to see if they were any real threat. It was an early 20 something with a grimey face and bleached blonde hair, so i decided to pick it back up and find another place for it. As I walked back and scanned the floor, I realized that the sound was gone and I couldn't find the stupid phone heart, plus I had to pee so I turned and walked away.
I came upon a Konbini....AMPM, to be exact. There was a big group of people there that looked like they were just taking a break from the bar across the street. Most of the kids looked pretty young and drunk. I stood in line for the bathroom outside. I was third, behind two guys of whom one of which had a Brooklyn accent. Though I can't remember the specifics, I do remember finding their banter to each other funny. In waiting, i felt a sense of urgency. I think i had to pee pretty bad.
And in a flash, the three of us were standing in the back of a big truck. I'll admit that my first thought was "this is fun" until i realized that this didn't make sense. How did I get into this truck? Why was i there? And who was driving? As I was about to ask the boys, the truck turned to block oncoming traffic and i watched a car slam into the side. I tried to pay attention to the trajectory of the truck to see when the best time to jump off would have been. The truck never flipped, though, nor did it incur any damage from any other cars besides the one that just slammed into it. The three of us were okay. The driver got out of the car, and she looked up at us. Then she pulled a Zippo out of her pocket and lighted it. As she walked toward the gas tank she said, "well, i guess I'll just blow you guys out". That's when I climbed over the wooden gates around the top of the flatbed and jumped. I was expecting a sharp pain in my feet upon landing, but i never did. Instead i was flying a little.
It was one of those uncontrollable flies, where i begin to lower down without wanting to, and i was soon on the ground, running. I got back to the same gas station, and this time there was no line. I went and used the bathroom. (I did not pee my bed).
When I came out, i saw the guys again, and asked them if they knew what was going on. Before they could answer, the truck was back. I saw it turn into the driveway, and i ran to the only place that looked safe; a tall iron gate that was painted light blue. I began climbing to the top past the height of the truck. But as I was climbing a big commotion broke out and all the people outside were running for this gate. The truck shined its headlights on our backs. I could feel it. The people were pulling on my legs trying to get me down. I knew she was going to plow at any moment. I knew my only chance for survival was to get to the top of that blue fence.
I kicked at the guy who was pulling me down and again tried to ascend the bars. I was still being pulled by my pants as i struggled. Just then, someone grabbed my arm and helped pull me up. I was looking down trying to keep my feet from people's hands. I reached the top and watched about as a 8 layer people sandwich was made. I heard the engine revving as it pushed against group of people. I noticed my friend Glen from Shimada as one of the people on the gate, and i figured it must have been him who helped me up. Before I could thank him, I saw the girl get out of the truck and point a gun as us stupid ducks sitting on the top of the gate. Easiest marks. I screamed and awoke. Not screaming but kinda moaning a little.
The thing i wonder now, as I recount my dream, is why I thought I was in an orphanage. There were many creaky metal beds with white sheets but no one was in them. I was in an old building, sleeping in a bed among many, alone. In my mind, that must be an orphanage.
Anyway, I finally was sick of looking, and wanted to drop this thing NOW. So i looked around, and just saw a couple of homeless masses huddled in the corners. So I flicked it the way I would a cigarette. And it landed on the white part of the street next to the curb. I turned to walk away, when I heard "hey, get that thing out of here." I looked to see who spoke, you know, to see if they were any real threat. It was an early 20 something with a grimey face and bleached blonde hair, so i decided to pick it back up and find another place for it. As I walked back and scanned the floor, I realized that the sound was gone and I couldn't find the stupid phone heart, plus I had to pee so I turned and walked away.
I came upon a Konbini....AMPM, to be exact. There was a big group of people there that looked like they were just taking a break from the bar across the street. Most of the kids looked pretty young and drunk. I stood in line for the bathroom outside. I was third, behind two guys of whom one of which had a Brooklyn accent. Though I can't remember the specifics, I do remember finding their banter to each other funny. In waiting, i felt a sense of urgency. I think i had to pee pretty bad.
And in a flash, the three of us were standing in the back of a big truck. I'll admit that my first thought was "this is fun" until i realized that this didn't make sense. How did I get into this truck? Why was i there? And who was driving? As I was about to ask the boys, the truck turned to block oncoming traffic and i watched a car slam into the side. I tried to pay attention to the trajectory of the truck to see when the best time to jump off would have been. The truck never flipped, though, nor did it incur any damage from any other cars besides the one that just slammed into it. The three of us were okay. The driver got out of the car, and she looked up at us. Then she pulled a Zippo out of her pocket and lighted it. As she walked toward the gas tank she said, "well, i guess I'll just blow you guys out". That's when I climbed over the wooden gates around the top of the flatbed and jumped. I was expecting a sharp pain in my feet upon landing, but i never did. Instead i was flying a little.
It was one of those uncontrollable flies, where i begin to lower down without wanting to, and i was soon on the ground, running. I got back to the same gas station, and this time there was no line. I went and used the bathroom. (I did not pee my bed).
When I came out, i saw the guys again, and asked them if they knew what was going on. Before they could answer, the truck was back. I saw it turn into the driveway, and i ran to the only place that looked safe; a tall iron gate that was painted light blue. I began climbing to the top past the height of the truck. But as I was climbing a big commotion broke out and all the people outside were running for this gate. The truck shined its headlights on our backs. I could feel it. The people were pulling on my legs trying to get me down. I knew she was going to plow at any moment. I knew my only chance for survival was to get to the top of that blue fence.
I kicked at the guy who was pulling me down and again tried to ascend the bars. I was still being pulled by my pants as i struggled. Just then, someone grabbed my arm and helped pull me up. I was looking down trying to keep my feet from people's hands. I reached the top and watched about as a 8 layer people sandwich was made. I heard the engine revving as it pushed against group of people. I noticed my friend Glen from Shimada as one of the people on the gate, and i figured it must have been him who helped me up. Before I could thank him, I saw the girl get out of the truck and point a gun as us stupid ducks sitting on the top of the gate. Easiest marks. I screamed and awoke. Not screaming but kinda moaning a little.
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