Good lord, I had a bad dream about Annabelle last night. It was horrific. Let me share it with you.
In the dream, I’m in this mostly empty house with my grandma (on my mom’s side) and Annabelle. We are all just standing around when a huge explosion sounds and a giant fireball appears in the distance. We don’t know if this was some sort of nuclear detonation or a volcano erupting, so we (including Annabelle) to go down to the basement just to be safer from whatever was going to start falling from the sky.
So we head down to the basement and I start calling my mom and Nate, trying to get ahold of them to see if they’re safe. No one is answering and I’m getting more and more panicked. Grandma is, of course, making all these snide, sarcastic remarks about my trying to get ahold of people, and I’m yelling at her to shut up because she’s not making things any better (it’s just like in real life!).
Then water starts coming in through the basement’s outside door at quite a rapid rate. All of us try to keep out of the water, climbing halfway up the basement stairs but still not going back upstairs. Then I see that lava is starting to flow in under the door as well. The lava rapidly starts heating up the water to the point that it is too hot to touch. Meanwhile, the water is rising higher and higher, faster and faster. I’m still on the phone, trying to get in touch with my mom and Nate, panicking because I don’t know if they’re safe or if they’re worried about us.
The water keeps rising and is suddenly nearing the very top of the basement. My grandma and I are on the top few stairs and realize we have to get out. I then notice that Annabelle is not with us. She’s on the top of a bookshelf which is rapidly being surrounded by the rising water. She’s not anywhere near the stairs, and there’s no way I can save her.
I start screaming from the top of the stairs, “I’m sorry, Annabelle! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I can’t save you, I love you!” The water keeps rising and rising and I can’t see her anymore, but I know she’s going to drown.
It was the worst dream I’ve had in a while. I hate dreams involving bad things happening to my kitties, and I really hate dreams where I have no control over the bad things that are happening. The only comfort to this dream is knowing that in real life I 100% would have waded through the boiling hot water to try and save Annabelle. No question.
Last night I had a dream in which a guy I didn’t know sat next to me on the bus and was telling me that he was sexually attracted to lettuce.
Anyway, I feel like 11 different types of garbage today, so that’s all you get. I’m an expert at disappointing everyone, anyway.
Alright, analyze this dream:
So I’m outside this huge NASA building—like where they store the shuttles—and I’m hanging out with some guy who I’m apparently friends with in the dream but who I can’t really see. We’re loitering around outside for a little while and then Neil Armstrong comes out and tells us to go away because he’s going to get into trouble if we get caught.
Other Guy suddenly has a spray can in his hand and we’re both trying to convince Neil to graffiti the outside of the building. He keeps refusing and we keep insisting, to the point where we’re calling him a chicken and a coward for not joining in on our fun.
Finally, when it’s clear he won’t graffiti, Other Guy says, “Okay, fine, if you won’t play with us out here, we’re going to have a drag race!” He points behind him toward a huge NASCAR-like track with a bunch of drag racers on it. In the dream, we know that we’re not going to drag race with the cars but are going to do like an actual NASCAR race with them.
Neil protests this, too, but eventually gives in. He’s afraid of the racecars, though, because he’s never been in one. “This is not like landing on the moon,” he says as we drag him over to the track. “This is complicated.” So Other Guy and I agree to do a test run together in the same car while Neil watches from the sidelines to see how it’s done.
We get in one of the cars and Other Guy’s saying, “See, now let this row of cars pass you first so that it doesn’t look like you’re cheating. The last thing you want is for it to look like you’re cheating. You don’t want to be first.” He was saying this very emphatically and with a lot of emphasis on the words cheating and first. All the while he kept looking back at Neil and gripping the steering wheel really tightly.
Then I woke up.
Thoughts? I wonder if Other Guy was Buzz Aldrin and he was upset about Neil Armstrong being first on the moon instead of him. Maybe he thinks Neil cheated his way down the ladder somehow.
I never dream about fire.
It was a lot of fire, too; like half of the University of Idaho buildings were ablaze and about to come crashing down. I was in one of them, but I was totally calm. It was like I knew I was either going to be rescued or be killed, and I didn’t really care which.
(I got rescued.)
It kind of weirds me out. Seriously, I never, ever dream about fire. If I’m going to dream about an element, it’s going to be water. Though come to think of it, I haven’t had a water-related dream in quite some time, so who knows what that’s about. I’ve always heard that water in dreams is supposed to signify strong emotions—which makes a bit of sense for me, as I can remember a lot of my really intensely water-centric dreams happening during very bad emotional times—but I’ve had a lot of really strong good emotions lately and no water dreams. Maybe I get the water dreams just during the bad emotional times, not the good ones.
I had this super elaborate dream last night, which I was trying really hard to remember this morning, but the only phrase that I could recall from it was this:
“Whenever you accidentally start taking Idaho seriously, remember that a guy named Butch Otter is the state governor.”
True that, brain. True that.
I had a dream last night about a French-Canadian version of Beck.
His name was Quebeck.
Last night I dreamt that I was in love with my sofa.
Let me repeat that.
Last night I dreamt that I was in love with my sofa.
We wanted to make love but then it was like, “No, wait, I don’t have my slip cover on yet.”
And I go, “It’s okay, baby, I have shoes on.”
So we did it because shoes are apparently a form of human-sofa birth control.
But we done fucked up and accidentally made babies after all.
(They were pillows.)
THIS IS WHAT STRESS DOES TO MY BRAIN GODDAMMIT
So last night I had this dream in which I was hanging out with Euler. We were talking about rainbows or something for like 30 minutes when suddenly he was gone and I was in this big auction house.
I sit down and watch. The auctioneer gets to this one paper and he says, “This is a theorem by Euler, but he forgot it on the bus so we took it and are selling it here. He’s very smart, so you’d better bid high!”
I thought in the dream, “Wow, how cool would it be to have that? I could pretend it’s mine and just erase his name from it!”
(Dream Claudia is vastly less academically honest than Reality Claudia, just to let you all know.)
So I bid like $50,000 on it and since I’m so excited I don’t open the paper until I get home. I make sure Euler’s not around, unfold the paper, and read the following:
“Theory: dogs bark.
Proof: barking dogs.”
And I got SO FREAKING MAD that I spent $50,000 on that. I think I was about to go beat the crap out of Euler but my alarm woke me up first.
(I think this is a sign that I’ve been doing too much of my math studying while watching Achievement Hunter.)
In the dream, I was hired by Nintendo to make a new version of Mario that could be played on the iPad. So I designed this game called “Math-io.” All the characters (apart from Math-io himself) were now mathematicians.
The best part? They were all mathematicians whose names rhymed with the original characters. Like Yoshi became Cauchy, Luigi became Fubini, etc. (I actually can’t remember the rest, but I was super proud in the dream that they all rhymed).
Actually, the premise of the game was exactly the same as your typical Mario, just with mathematicians.
Any takers, Nintendo?
Well that was a hell of a dream.
It’s sometime during summer in the dream and I’m in my office on campus talking to a pair of Iranian dudes (I have no idea how I know they’re Iranian) and we’re talking and laughing and blah-blah-ing about all sorts of stuff. Then I look at my watch and realize that I have to go teach in 5 minutes.
The room I teach in is neither in Renfrew nor in the TLC but in some huge auditorium/stadium thing. Actually, now that I think about it, it looked more like a movie theatre without the big projector screen in front.
Anyway, I go in there and because I’m late the university decided to put a guest lecturer in my place. But he wasn’t really doing anything and was just kind of standing in the front of the room looking bewildered. There weren’t too many of us in there—maybe 20 or 30 people—and we were all just calmly sitting in the chairs.
Then, all of a sudden, everyone started freaking out. I think someone saw a pencil on the floor or something and that just sent everything into chaos for whatever reason. The substitute guy was still just standing in front watching all of this nonsense, so I started to move to the front of the classroom (movie theatre?) to try and help calm everyone down. I moved in super slow motion—you know how it is in dreams sometimes—and by the time I was up front, everyone had cooled off.
Then someone saw a Cheez-It and all hell broke loose again. Why? Apparently the Cheez-It was “immoral” and because it was in the room, everyone there was at risk of going to hell. This second freak-out was even louder and more panicked than the first—people were like “oh my god, I’m never going to touch a Cheez-It again! I don’t want to go to hell! I repent! I repent! I need to get out of this room!”
Then, finally, the substitute guy just went off on everyone. He started yelling “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! You are NOT mindless sheep! You will NOT let ONE CHEEZ-IT dictate your life! You’re COLLEGE STUDENTS, for god’s sake! Don’t let this one Cheez-It ruin all the other Cheez-Its in your life!”
As he was talking, I had gone to the chalkboard that had magically appeared in the front of the room and had written “One Cheez-It = One Mistake” with a big copyright symbol behind it, and was super proud of this apparently brilliant phrase.
Then my alarm went off and I woke up.
What the hell.
I had a dream last night in which I was bedridden for some reason and all my major muscles very quickly atrophied. However, as they atrophied, they all turned into gold and I had thousands of doctors from around the world wanting to operate on me just so that they could get their hands on said gold.
In the dream, I kept trying to force myself to stay awake so that the doctors couldn’t come in at night and cut me up, but I accidentally keep falling asleep and each time I woke up I had more and more gaping cuts all over my arms and legs from where the doctors would come and try to harvest the gold as I slept. I woke up (in real life) when it got to the point where the doctors had taken all the gold and were starting to take my bones to see if I had gold in the marrow.
Red Bull is a hell of a drug.
Have you ever had a dream set in a really specific place—and not a familiar one, like your house/school/work/whatever—and then, like three years after you have that dream—return to that location in another dream?
That happened to me last night. I was in this huge field in Oklahoma. I knew I had been there before in a dream I’d had a long time ago, and I was so happy to be there again. I knew where everything was and I knew one reason that I liked the field was because there was this giant kite-shaped cloud that was always hanging above it (which, of course, I saw as I looked up in the dream). It was just this incredible feeling of familiarity. I don’t remember a place ever feeling so familiar in a dream before.
Does that ever happen to you?
So I pretty much constantly dream about math/numbers now. And what’s frustrating is that it always seems like I’m coming up with these super awesome theories/proofs and then by the time the morning comes I can only remember fragments of them. They’re probably trivial and nonsensical, but it’d be nice to actually see if the stuff my REM-brain’s coming up with is coherent. At least, more coherent than my waking thoughts.
There’s a way you can train yourself to remember your dreams, right?
Well what the hell.
Thanks to a discussion I had with my mom yesterday concerning blue moons, I of course had the moon as the main star of my dream last night.
In the dream, it was the point in the future where our helium reserves had run out (real thing that’s happening, by the way). The top scientists had determined that mining the moon for helium was our most feasible option for replenishing the element, so we’d sent up a bunch of scientists/miners to do so. We’d set up these huge plots on the moon in which we mined the helium.
All was well and good, but as we started carting the helium back to earth, we realized that taking the element from the moon’s surface was actually eliminating the moon’s ability to reflect the sun. It had gotten to the point where the mining plots were resulting in huge black non-reflecting squares on the moon’s surface that could be seen from earth.
Representative pic (made with MS Paint so it’s crappy, but this is really what it looked like in the dream. Original from here):
I actually think the dream itself lasted like 2 minutes, but I remember feeling like we’d been waiting for days for the news to report whether the reflective nature of the moon would ever return in full or if we’d have to live with a patchy satellite.
As I was drifting off last night I had kind of a dream/flash of an idea: someone needs to make an ABCs book about statistics!
Like…A is for Anscombe’s Quartet, B is for Bayesian Inference, C is for Correlation, D is for Design Matrix…
Oh waitwaitwaitwait. There could be an “applied stats” alphabet and a “theoretical stats” alphabet. That way we could get more topics. AND EACH COULD HAVE A LITTLE POEM!
Of course I’m sure this has been done, but still…wouldn’t it be cool? I’d read it to my spawn if I ever have a spawn (that poor child would be screwed up from the beginning, though, so I probably shouldn’t have a spawn).
(I would name my spawn “Spawn.”)
(Yup, shouldn’t have a spawn.)
So Matt, you’ll probably enjoy this.
I was having this crazy-ass dream last night. You were in it; I think we were at Shari’s, a whole group of us. I did some random thing and you laughed SO HARD. I half woke up at that point, and in my semi-consciousness I realized that I HAD to write down what I did in the dream so I’d remember it in the morning.
So when I woke up this morning I of course didn’t remember what I’d done in the dream to make you laugh so hard. But then I found a note card on the arm of the couch (that’s where I sleep, BTW).
What had I written in the middle of the night?
“Motorboat chocolate boobs.”
This reminded me exactly what went down in the dream: I had ordered the Shari’s “special” for the month, which ended up being a giant set of chocolate boobs (like one of those chocolate Easter bunnies, but in booby form). Apparently I took them and motorboated the hell out of them, which just had you in hysterics.
So last night I had a dream about C++. Our professor had changed our final exam to a final essay/report. I got the brilliant idea to create a program to write my paper for me. So that’s what I did, and I turned the paper in with total confidence that I’d get an A. Then I got it back and got like a 20% because I forgot to write my program to print the citations for all the sources I used in the paper. Cue total panic mode.
Hooray dream-induced panic attacks!
Haha, the Harlem Shake is actually kind of hilarious.
Here’s Western Ontario with their classy rockin’ (I’ve been in that hallway!)
That guy in the bottom left corner with the big finger, hahaha.
And then there’s UI.
Last night I dreamt I was in France. It was the late 17th century and I was in this huge cathedral just kind of chilling. I was confused because I knew I was supposed to be attending mass at St. Mary’s Church in Moscow, but I had somehow royally screwed up and ended up in France.
I’m sitting in a pew when this dude comes running up the main aisle. I didn’t know who he was at first, but as he got closer I noticed he was wearing a “Hello! My name is L’Hopital” nametag. He’s in the middle of totally freaking out and he’s got this empty basket slung on his arm that keeps changing colors as he’s running around.
Somehow in the dream I know that this is before l’Hopital’s Rule comes into existence, so I think in the dream that it’s my duty to keep him calm so that he’ll live long enough to publish his calculus textbook.
So I say, “Hey l’Hopital, what’s up?” And he goes on this long rant about how it’s his job to gather all these rare apples and transport them to Newton in England. He’s like on the verge of tears so I offer to help him. There’s an apple tree in the front of the church so I point him in that direction (I think it’s weird that he didn’t see that on his own) and together we start harvesting these weird-looking apples. The whole time we’re doing so he just keeps ranting about how he’s a famous mathematician and it shouldn’t fall to him to gather these apples.
This goes on for what seems like five hours (even though it was probably like microseconds in real time), and the basket is finally full. l’Hopital’s finally calmer now that he’s got the apples he needed, and he actually turns to me and thanks me. Then he looks around all deviously and whispers, “let’s make a pie out of five or six of these apples. Newton will never know! I can fill the shipping box with oranges so it weighs the same, and by the time he gets it I’ll be dead anyway, so who cares?”
And of course what am I thinking during all of this? “Holy freaking crap, I get to make pie with a famous mathematician!”
(Also, the pie was tasty.)
Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to my brain.