Dream Log: August 22, 2001

I'm standing at the airport.
There's no one else around but me and her.
We look through each other.
The scenen shifts and I'm in Chicago, driving with my mother in a car.
We get pulled over for something.
I'm so nervous.
The cop lets us go... "what were we talking about," I ask Mom. She doesn't respond.
I'm in bed, under the covers, hiding.
I'm sweating, I have a book and a flashlight... I must only be 12 years old.
Then I see a shadow above me. "Turn that light off," I hear my mother yell.
I close my eyes and drift off to sleep... a fog surrounds me both physically and mentally, I'm too young to know about matters of the spirit... but I sense that there is a presence above me.
The fog turns into black slime, it shimmers in it's chaos and formlessness.
I'm paralysed with fear, and can't avert my eyes. It feels like some horror straight out of Cthulhu has come to claim my sanity and soul.
I look up from the typewriter.
I look at the computer monitor and see my own face reflected.

I dreamed about Dead Last last night... The band was staying in some odd huge white house. These are the ghost encounters I remember.

There were scenes of the guys sleeping on couches, with Scotty narrating about how sometimes the ghosts of old ladies were just too easily ignorable--about, like, how "They only weigh about six pounds, it's not like they're going to do anything dangerous". So we had a few shots of them with old ladies sleeping all over them.

Also it seems they had acquired some kind of rapidfire nailgun that they could shoot ghosts with. The next day--actually, the next night, because it was already dark out--they went to explore the house. On the top floor, they found in a room something weird: It looked like a man arguing his own ghost. The guy was clearly a loony bin, and both of him looked like he was about to hurt someone. They would have shot the ghost man with the ghost gun but they couldn't tell which was real and which was the ghost.

Then the real man, who was lying in bed, shot himself. And the ghost man noticed them standing in the door. Crazy psychotic ghost runs after them, chasing them back downstairs into the great-room they had slept in last night, which is now absolutely dark. The ghost begins unleashing poltergeist power at them randomly, and the ghost gun goes off apparently by itself, nearly injuring everybody.

(around here, the phone rang and woke me up... grr.)

I also remember one of the commercials.

      GUY:  "On Fridays, this bathroom is mine."

      [Black-and-white shot of GUY's crotch.  He is NAKED
      and SWINGING FREELY.]

      [GUY launches into some spiel about making his member 
      smoother and healthier, sort of as if this were some kind of 
      shampoo commercial that decided not to be about hair care 
      anymore.]

      [More CROTCH SHOTS.]
      
      ANNOUNCER:  "Bismillah.  Perhaps you've smerd of us?"
      
      [Shot of the same slogan, in green text.]
      
                       END

Road Trip & Collective Consciousness

• After reading from Vernor Vinge's Fire Upon The Deep, I went to sleep and dreamt that I was on a road trip with Allen and Mario. I mention the sci-fi book because in the dream our bodies are like one of the aliens from the story: rather than individual consciousness residing in an individual body, each one of us perceives our Self as composed of several bodies linked under one space-spanning mind. Thus each of us have three bodies (making nine people total) as we walk into a hotel and get on the elevator. I control six hands separately and see out of six eyes. It is a most amusing and efficient state of being. We go on to travel the open highway, visiting friends along the way.