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I dream that Ozzy Osbourne is sitting on the pink loveseat in my living room and berating me. This is odd for two reasons: one is that he is dressed in his 80’s finery- his hair permed and frosted, heavy eyeliner and spandex pants. The second reason this strikes me as odd is because I am convinced that he is some sort of an apparition and is not actually speaking to me, but someone else in some other place. This second impression is shattered when he addresses me directly and says “Yeah, you in the black! What is this shite coming out of your fucking stereo?” He is obviously drunk, and I momentarily feel bad for him and consider offering him my condolences on the loss of Randy Rhodes, but think better of it when I realize that Ozzy appears to be wearing the same pants that Rhodes was wearing in the VH1 Behind the Music. At this point I can no longer convince my self that he is making fun of someone else…Ozzy Osbourne thinks my taste in music is crap. I sigh and begin trying to explain to him the new types of music, and why they are valuable- which is disturbing because the music I am defending isn’t anything that I listen to or like. He roundly dismisses all of my explanations and my alarm goes off.
In this dream Ozzy appears as he does now on The Osbournes, and the rest of his family is present as well. I am in an airport and see someone struggling with a piece of luggage- I go to help and when the man begins to thank me for my help I study him closely, attempting to understand his garbled speech that may or may not be peppered with expletives. It is not until Sharon Osbourne approaches us and thanks me for helping him that I realize that it is Ozzy. Again, though I cannot understand a word he says to me, he appears pleased, and Sharon, noticing this offers me plane fare so that I can visit him at their next destination and keep him company. I agree, and Ozzy and I end up going to the beach and getting ice cream cones together while we have long involved discussion on the trials of life- I think we do anyway, becase I am never able to understand anything he says to me. But this experience is nonetheless comforting. Ozzy fumbles with his ice cream,(one scoop of vanilla on a sugar cone) drops it, and my alarm goes off.

Recurring Dream Themes
Part Three: The Red Riders

For those who expressed interest in my recurring dream themes, and their interpretations, I continue...

The enemy is not always what he seems to be. The nature of the red riders is one of great animosity. Whereas I am quite sure they stand in opposition to myself and my goals in the recurring death dreams, they present more questions than they do answers. They taunt me and block my progress. However, even when they have me at their mercy they do not strike. They present themselves as a threat rather than as an active danger.

They are generally seen on horseback although they have also appeared riding motorcycles. In any dream in which The Muse appears or plays a significant role, the red riders lack horses. The Muse is strongly associated with horses, having at one point sold everything in her life and driven herself into poverty in order to achieve a pair of horses. The fact that her presence in the dreams, either through the appearance of her form or allusions to her, denies the red riders horses seems significant. It tells me she is not allied with them. The threat they pose is contradicted by elements of The Muse. Since horses are so strongly associated with her, then they cannot be simultaneously associated with the riders.

The name "red riders" is not a name by which they are known in the dreams. They are nameless in the dreams. I referred to them as "red riders" because of their horses and because they always wear red. Usually they wear armor with a red sash and cape. The armor is a strange sort, seemingly both solid metal and highly flexible chain at the same time. The riders also have three sets of wings, which prompted me to do in depth research some years ago on the topic of angels. They seem to fit the description of seraphim. If I look directly into their eyes I immediately wake up feeling very disoriented. As such I generally avoid eye contact during the dreams, which results in feeling weaker in their presence.

"You are a little man
and without wings you are nothing."

The favorite taunt of the red riders involves variations on that statement. This brings up more questions as to whether I once had wings, am supposed to have wings or will have wings at some point. Because my concept of time is non-linear and non-constant, I believe in memories of things yet to happen given the point at which we call the present. The riders remind me of weaknesses I have and use them to exert power over me. They also carry very long and sharp swords. When I am in possession of a sword it is always broken.

Most of the time the same pair of red riders appear. Usually when I leave the house in the woods and try to cross the snowy terrain they appear to slow my progress and taunt me. They have also appeared in a repeated scene that occurs in a valley. The valley is what has become known as Rancho Nuevo. It is sort of a purgatory for the damned and forgotten. The only hope of salvation for the lost souls who exist in the valley comes in the form of a unicorn. When the unicorn appears, the riders appear in large numbers. An army of riders decends upon the valley and hunts down the unicorn. Sometimes it eludes them, but when they do catch it they always cut off its head and hand it to me. When this happens there is a large scale battle between the riders, all of whom are male, and a group of angels in white. These angels are all female and have a strange glow to them. They fly into the valley and the riders prepare themselves for a fight. This scene has been played out three times with varied conclusions. Sometimes the riders overwhelm the angels in white and sometimes they are driven off by the dragon that always watches my back. Sometimes I believe the way the scene plays out relates to events as I need to see them in my waking life.

I got out of bed a confused and scared individual. It was one of those dreams.

My girlfriend’s father has no idea that we are involved, if he did, I wouldn’t have enough fingers to type this as fast as I did.

My dream began like one of those fairly innocuous dreams that we have from time to time; I was waking through a corridor in the campus admin building, I can’t really remember why. Then a man came up to me and asked me if I could help him find a certain office, being a pleasant enough individual, I told him that I knew where the office was and that I would take him to it. It was a long walk, me and this stranger got to talking about life, the universe and why water is wet, the usual kind of shit.

As it turned out, he worked in the same place as my girlfriend’s dad. Stranger still, he lived in the same area as they did. Even stranger than that, it turned out that he was there to visit my girlfriend’s uncle. What a startling series of coincidence.

We got to the uncles office. The uncle addressed this visitor as his brother. I promptly shat myself and for reasons only to be understood by my twisted-like-a-pretzel subconscious, I blurted out ‘Jesus. I’m shagging your daughter!’

He hit me. Really hard. I cried like a baby and apologized. He threatened to kill me if I ever went near his daughter ever again. The uncle laughed.

Call me a pessimist, (everyone else does.), but I think that when the time comes to reveal our little liaison to daddy-dearest, the dream might become a little more accurate than mere images flying through my sleeping mind.

I know that this dream is displays my guilt. It is an expression of my displeasure at this need for secrecy. I don’t like doing what we do. Well, I really, really like doing what we do, but I hate the fact that her father does not know it. Some of it anyway. He is much bigger than me as well and I am not that small. He would kill me, or at least mash me into a bloodied, crying, pant-shitting pulp.

She laughed when I told her about this dream. She would.

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