When it reins it poors
Disembarkation day!
I actually had a dream last night that while on the ship, there was this outbreak of a new strain of disease that had never been seen before. It was acting quickly, killing passengers within 5 hours of contraction, and no port would let us dock because we would spread the new strain. We were forced to float around aimlessly while we all died off from this disease.
Quite Camus-esque.
Possible NaNo.
Are the bulbs of mercury at the bottom of thermometers collectively known as H.G. Wells?
Last night I dreamt about Hungry Hungry Hippos.
“But Claudia, you’ve never played Hungry Hungry Hippos!”
That’s what makes it so scary. Especially since I was named Liz in the dream, which is the name of the game’s pink hippo (thank you, Wikipedia). Or it was, until the newest version of the game renamed the hippos Sweetie Potamus, Bottomless Potamus, Picky Potamus, and Veggie Potamus.
If I ever have a kid, I am so naming him Bottomless Potamus. Bottomless Potamus Mahler sounds like a name begging to be on the list of Nobel Prize winners (or the list of “Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest winners”…either way).
The fact that Wiki has a category on “Fictional Hippopotamuses” is freaking hilarious. As is the ease of getting from the Hungry Hungry Hippos Wiki page to the Pornography page (Hungry Hungry Hippos to YouTube to Pornography).
United Staaaaaates!
Canada Day in Canada.
Fourth of July in the US.
Fitting.
Well. If you have any interest at all in typography and/or the serif/sans serif debate, I strongly urge you to read this. It’s an article discussing whether serif fonts or san serif fonts are more legible. It’s fascinating and awesome. The fact that researchers have apparently fabricated results in order to support their preferred side of the argument is hilarious. Academic integrity meets its match when Times New Roman is thrown against Arial in a battle of which is more readable.
Actually, I read this article last night and subsequently had a dream about a Supreme Court case (Times v. Arial, of course) on which hinged the unity of the whole United States. Apparently sometime in the future, according to this dream, the US splits along the line of people who use serif fonts and people who use sans serif fonts. It was like the most historically significant Supreme Court case EVER, apparently. Possible NaNo idea. Hmm…
Anyway, happy birthday, United States! Love you, missed you!
The Brave Dr. Freeman Goes to Xen
List of things that don’t mix:
Oil + water
Water + potassium
Bleach + ammonia
Wine + emotions
Scientology + common sense
And finally…
Half-Life + The Brave Little Toaster
Seriously, guys…weirdest dream I’ve ever had. There were headcrabs, there were talking blankets. At some point a vacuum consumed a bullsquid.
Life and the unconscious realm are weird.
Edit: holy Jesus:
Most accurate representation of that movie EVER.
At least I’m happy in my dreams (sometimes)
So probably the least experience emotion in my dreams is that of amusement. But last night my brain decided to find the humor in its deep subconscious folds and release it in a very weird dream.
So in this dream there was myself, my cat Annabelle, and this other woman who was like half my mom and half someone else. We’re sitting around in my living room chatting and all of a sudden Annabelle joins into the conversation.
I say “WOOAAHHH, DUDES, how is that cat TALKING?!” like I’m high. Annabelle finds this incredibly hilarious and starts talking and laughing. This makes me laugh, so I start rolling around the floor in a fit of hysterical laughter. My mom/other person hybrid starts laughing too and then says something INCREDIBLY funny (unfortunately I don’t remember what she said now that I’m awake) and the rest of the dream is all of us just laughing like crazy.
I woke up at 4:30 on the floor of my living room crying ‘cause I was laughing so hard.
Awesome.
Brazil nuts are creepy.
I had a nightmare about Brazil nuts last night.
Yes, you read that right. Nightmare about Brazil nuts.
In defense of my unconscious brain-ramblings, these things are creepy as all hell, both inside their shells and out.
“Brazil nuts are the large, elongated, three-sided, oily seeds of the South American brazil nut tree.”
And they will haunt you and take down your mind when you think you’re safe.
I’d elaborate on the dream more, but I really can’t remember it. I just remember Brazil nuts, running, being absolutely terrified, and the cause of the terror (and running) being the Brazil nuts.
In other news, tonight my mom and I are driving to Phoenix because my flight leaves at the ungodly hour of 6:18 tomorrow morning.
Not looking forward to going back to Van Land. Nope, not at all.
What I dream about when I fall asleep on the bus for 10 minutes:
- This dream involving a strange combination of Pokemon: The Movie and Princess Mononoke. You know those dream epics that in reality last about three minutes? Yeah, this was one of those.
- A brilliant idea to extend the processed cheese-type product to butter. It’d be called “Ghee Whiz.”
- How we could cure AIDS if we just spelled it differently.
- Calculus: The Musical.
- How much I would like to take the SAT again just to see if I would bomb the ever-loving Jesus crackers out of it a second time (I probably would).
- Another micro dream involving Newton and a lot of auto-tuning (possibly related to #4?).
Yeah.
Zoomazoomazoomablogtime
I had a dream last night that consisted solely of me writing lengthy Wikipedia article on “water vandalism,” which turns out to not be a real thing in real life but was, in my dream, acts that involved defacing public water (like putting bath bubbles in a public fountain).
I’m actually surprised “water vandalism” hasn’t been coined for that yet.
Also, there exists no Wiki article for one of the main structural equation modeling fit indices I’m examining for my thesis, so I’m half-tempted to actually create one. I’ve never edited a Wiki page before.
Anyway.
Yes, I know I’m about 3,000 words short for NaNoWriMo right now. Shut up, I know it, I’ll get there. Last year I was like 7,000 words short at this point, so there!
Bah. I’m jittery.
Today’s song: Mykonos by Fleet Foxes
Apparently the derivative of a lip ring is a Monroe
Yeah. When you start finding the derivations of various facial piercings in your dreams, you know you’ve done way too much calculus the day before.
I’m totally serious, I start spacing off and then realize that I’m daydreaming about DERIVATIVES.
This is FREAKING AWESOME.
On a somewhat related note, I went to a symposium on dreams this morning. One of the presenters gave a really interesting talk in which he displayed art students’ artistic interpretations of their dreams while reading their dreams aloud to us. I thought it was pretty interesting how many of the dreamers presented exaggerated or inappropriate emotional responses in their dreams. I can only think of a few examples of my own dreams (the Boxy Boxy dream, the Maggie = Spearow dream, though I think “shock and awe” were fairly appropriate emotional responses there) where I, in my dream, acted with exaggerated or simply the incorrect emotions.
Also, according to another guy it’s pretty rare for people to dream of numbers/calculations. Those are also fairly common in my dreams, but usually to a lesser extent than they are when I’m doing crap loads of calc problems per day, and usually happen right before I wake up.
Today’s song: Angel by Sarah McLachlan
In Soviet Russia, Blog writes YOU!
In this blog: I subject you all to another “Claudia had a weird dream and wants to analyze it Freudian style” event. You’ve been warned.
So.
This dream starts out in what appears to be a very hilly version of Moscow (yeah, more than it actually is, ARE YOU SCARED YET?). It’s dark outside, I have the car, and I’m driving around aimlessly. Matt’s in the passenger’s seat because he’s apparently required material in all my dreams now.
There’s no music playing (atypical in my usual car rides), but we’re talking about random stuff, driving up and down erratic roads on these hills. Having fun, you know. This goes on for a good portion of the dream until we meet this hitchhiker lady who looks and acts very much like my old high school friend Tanya. I offer her a ride to absolutely nowhere in particular and she gets in, talking excitedly about who the hell knows what. Off we go, with no destination in mind, apparently intent on traversing every hill in the town.
It turns out later, though, that I guess we were headed to church, because the dream suddenly shifted to us getting out of the car and going into St. Mary’s Church. All the lights are on and the church is almost entirely full, so we have to sit in like the last row. As we sit down I notice to the left (we’re on the right of the aisle) that Sean’s there and he’s acting REALLY drunk. He’s sitting amongst a bunch of guys I went to elementary school with (fitting, considering we went to St. Mary’s school) and is just being obnoxiously loud and boisterous.
The guys are like “dude, calm down, you’re in a church!” but he won’t shut up. Eventually like six of them get up and physically carry him out of the church at the start of the service, with him shouting all the while. For whatever reason, I can’t help but think that it’s my fault he’s acting all drunk and I feel like I should go with him to see if he’s okay, but I stay in my seat.
Anyway, like twenty minutes in dream time pass and the service is carrying on as usual when all of a sudden one of the elementary school guys busts through the church doors waving this index card screaming something about Sean’s blood. The priest (who is wearing a Pope hat?) is in the aisle and the guy runs up to him and gives him the index card. The priest looks at it and then starts waving it around, yelling “he’s a timyrean! He’s got timyrean blood!”
Apparently, in my unconscious brain, timyrean is a blood type like A, AB, O, etc., except it’s EXTREMELY rare and has been found in like 0.00000000001% of the population. So the whole congregation basically freaks out ‘cause everyone’s so jazzed about someone having timyrean blood in Moscow.
After the priest flips out for a good amount of time, he goes back to the front of the church to resume the service, but I run up behind him and go, “excuse me sir, but I would like to get your permission to leave church so I can go visit my friend Sean in the hospital.”
He puts his hand on my head and starts yelling “YES, you may go, child, you are such a good Christian to want to go visit your friend in the hospital, [freakishly long priest talk that I can’t remember]!”
I’m pretty uncomfortable with this and say, “okay, I’m going to go now—”
“SUCH A GOOD CHRISTIAN!!!” And he rambles on for a few more minutes before I wake up.
Yeah.
Time for key points analysis, Freudian style!*
- Driving around Moscow probably arose from the fact that I was thinking of what I would do when I was back in the States in July. I was thinking about that random time last year when Matt and I decided to drive down to Lewiston late at night. I’m guessing that’s where this element (and the Matt element) comes from.
- I actually saw Tanya as a “suggested friend” on Facebook the other night, so that one’s pretty obvious.
- I really am not sure where church came from. I was looking through my high school yearbook last night, but I didn’t consciously pick out anyone I went to elementary school (and thus to church) with.
- The Sean element’s pretty obvious, though, as I was talking to him last night right before I went to bed. Maybe the way he was complaining about his summer class sounded like something he would shout about if I had been actually talking to him rather than conversing over MSN Messenger, and that’s where the drunken shouting came from.
- First thing I did this morning was look up “timyrean.” I’m 99% sure that’s how it was spelled on the index card. The only info Google can provide me is that I must have misspelled “Tim Ryan” when I searched—which I’m pretty sure is not the case—so I have no idea where I pulled that word from. It might be my dream-brain’s jumbling of the word “tachyon” ‘cause I was looking those up late last night, but who knows.
- I also don’t know where the “Claudia is a good Christian and here’s why” priest speech came from. I don’t remember any religious crises from yesterday.
Fun.
*According to Freud, all elements of a night’s dream arise from stimuli thought of or experienced during the previous day.
Today’s song: Only for the Weak by In Flames
This just in: Maggie is a Pokémon
I know, I know, I should have known by now.
Yeah. Weirdest. Dream. Ever. It was so vivid, that’s what made it trippy. I think Matt, Rebeca, some other dude that I didn’t recognize but apparently knew, Nathan, Maggie, and myself were there. We were right behind the deli thing.
Why did we have a little handheld shopping basket full of bacon? Who knows.
Why did Maggie evolve into a Spearow? WHO KNOWS.
At first we were all, “wow, Maggie’s a Spearow” but that rapidly changed to “WHERE IS SHE TAKING OUR BACON.”
Odd.
I also think I have decided what my first tattoo shall be. I’m thinking I’ll get a lambda, either on my back somewhere or on my shoulder. Why a lambda? Reasons:
1) It’s Greek. I like Greek and hope to learn it someday.
2) “Leibniz” starts with a lambda in Greek (duh).
3) Lambda is the symbol for eigenvalues, and while they’re evil to calculate, they’re necessary in FACTOR ANALYSIS, my absolute true love in the world of statistics.
4) It’s also a recurring symbol in Half-Life (just realized this), which is pretty awesome, too.
Yeah. It’s really one of the only ways I figure I can tie together my love for Leibniz and my love for factor analysis without tattooing “I love Leibniz and factor analysis!” on me somewhere.
Side note: the apartment’s MINE! I move in May 1st, but my mom’s going to come up on the 8th, as I can’t move my chair by myself, at least up several flights of stairs (the elevator is about the size of my current bathroom, which is too small for anything other than a broom closet).
Yay.
Today’s song: The Great Escape by The Rifles
I am enlightened, for I have dreamt of Lady Gaga
Seriously. Weirdest, most vivid dream I’ve had in awhile: I’m in this big theatre thing downtown with the intention of going to a Muse concert. However, the tickets are $300 or something, so I’m standing around debating whether or not to do it. I leave the main part of the theatre and go out into the front atrium, where there are a bunch of these video screens.
I stand in the corner watching one of the screens when all of a sudden Lady Gaga walks in with all these bodyguard guys. She books it over to me and hands me two key rings FULL of keys, saying, “these are keys to boats, houses, and cars. I’ll give you all of these if you give me the rights to your MySpace song.” Apparently, in the dream, I had written my MySpace song, and she wanted it badly. So I was all, “okay, cool!” Then she and I got in a limo and went to god knows where and she showed me some of her moves.
Then we went back to her place and I slept on her couch, amidst all of her panties. All I can remember from this part is that I was ridiculously happy, and I wanted to try on her shorts. Ga-ga, ooh-la-la, indeed.
Yeah. I know. What the hell is going on in my subconscious.
Anyway.
Today was “let’s defer our panic over finals with some sushi” day with the psych buddies. Everyone was going back to campus for some theatre thing afterwards, but I just wanted to go home, so I went the opposite way. I was standing at the bus stop waiting for #33 and some dude came and stood beside me. After about five minutes, I saw him look down at my pants and go: “Wow, those are lime green fleece pants!”
No kidding. I’m not colorblind.
Then: “You have more courage than I do to wear those!”
And what’s that supposed to mean, random stranger whom I’ve never before met?
It’s not courage. It’s style. MY style. If I were deliberately trying to make some sort of statement against the norm with my awesome pants, yeah, sure, I’m sure there would be some element of courage involved, but I’m not. Stop insinuating that not wearing the same style as everyone else implies I have courage. I don’t call the majority of Vancouverites cowards because they all wear the same goddamn jacket (seriously, there’s like one style of jacket up here).
I like lime green. I had the volition sometime a few years ago to make some lime green pants. And so I did. Big deal, end of story. Holy crap, you mean you wear it ‘cause you like it? Bingo, Sherlock.
I like color, thus I wear a lot of it. You probably like denim, ‘cause you were wearing way more of it than I thought was humanly possible. Was I about to say this to you? No, because you seemed quite comfortable in your style and I didn’t want to screw with your self-image by telling you that you looked like you fell out of a Levi’s shipment truck.
Can we leave each others’ fashions alone? As long as we’re not exposing obscene amounts of butt/boobs/privates, I don’t see what the problem is.
Today’s song: Launch from the soundtrack to Armageddon
Midterm and Mars
Last night I had a dream about my psych midterm. We got to lab today (in the dream) and our grades were listed by our student number on a huge overhead. I only got 10 questions right out of 45, and I was really really upset, so I went to talk to my professor about it. I started to cry and he said he felt really sorry for me.
So he took me to Mars.
Yeah.
Luckily, I did not get a 10/45. I got an A. But I didn’t get to go to Mars.
Repressed sexual tension durng REM sleep? DON’T MIND IF I DO
Oh man, Freud would have a field day with this one. I dreamt about Lead last night, very vividly, for the first time in a long time. And if you don’t know the story behind the nickname/the person, then that’s because everything involving him happened before I even knew you. Yeah, it was that long ago.
Anyway.
So in this dream it’s like ten years into the future. I’m at some reunion/huge science conference somewhere in the U.S. Who do I see there but Lead. He’s some big shot scientist now—very fitting. He seems surprised to see me there, and asks me what I’m doing with my life. Apparently I work for the census bureau (also very fitting). He’s like, “oh, really? I never saw you in that sort of career, that’s really cool,” and we have this really pleasant, congenial discussion. I start to think he’s kinda coming on to me.
It’s then that I notice he’s got this huge pole of metal with him (here we go…). It’s like ten feet tall with all these weird elbow joints in it. I ask him what it is and apparently it’s one of the main components for a big research project he’s working on. Not ten seconds later, he asks me to “hold it” while he goes off and does something else. So he oh-so-metaphorically gives me his huge pole. And he’s gone.
And I lose the pole. Somewhere. Probably outside, because the dream shifts and I’m out in these dusty hills searching for it. Instead, I find a backpack with a gun in it. Even though I knew he was going to hate me for losing his pole, I was so excited to go back inside and talk to him that I gave the gun to a pair of kids wandering around outside (because without it, one of them said, their mother was going to have to “go back on welfare again”) and run back inside the building.
But my damn alarm goes off and I don’t get to talk to him again.
Ugh. Sometimes I wonder, you know? This was almost as weird as the “fruit suit” dream.
Sometimes it’s a good thing that some thoughts only arise in dreams
Okay, so I had two of the weirdest dreams I’ve ever had last night. Presented in chronological order.
ONE!
I was back on the cruise, but it wasn’t really the cruise because we were on an open oil tanker (how I knew it was that kind of ship, I’m not sure) that was going through a rough storm. Two little details I could pick out: I was wearing the chain Aaron gave me, and Boxy Boxy (remember him from awhile back?) was sitting next to me on the deck. All of a sudden, a helicopter comes out of the sky and I have to climb this ladder to safety. By the time I’m halfway up the ladder, I realize that while I somehow left the necklace on the deck and was carrying Boxy Boxy.
However, at some point I drop Boxy Boxy into the ocean. At first I’m like, “whatever, it’s a box,” then I realize how important he was. So I start screaming, “BOXY BOXY, I’LL COME BACK FOR YOU!” as I’m flown away.
Then I’m back in my room, crying my eyes out because I know I’ll never ever find Boxy Boxy in the ocean. Then my dad comes in the room and hands me—surprise surprise—Boxy Boxy! Apparently I actually left him on the ship and he was able to save it in the storm.
I had never been so happy in my dreams in my entire life. I woke up and had to hug Boxy Boxy.
TWO!
I’m in bed with a guy from my philosophy senior seminar. He’s still asleep and I’m next to him wondering, “well, that was fun. But now I have to take his penis as a sample. I hope he doesn’t notice.” So I get a pair of scissors, CUT HIS PENIS OFF, and put it in a plastic baggie to take with me. The dream skips ahead and there are a bunch of us awake talking. He’s there, too, and has apparently failed to notice his lack of a penis. (One year later edit: I TOLD you it was creepy!)
Yeah. There’s something wrong with me.
The Matrix
Oh GOD.
Last night I had this dream I was stuck in a 3×3 matrix and was subtracted to zero when they reduced it to echelon form.
It was scary as hell. Mainly because it was a DREAM ABOUT ALGEBRA.
I want to shoot myself.
StumbleUpon makes for weird dreams
Despite having gallons of homework to do (because large quantities of homework are best measured in gallons), I spent like five hours on StumbleUpon. Which resulted in a really weird dream.
I’m in Egypt studying flowers (told you it was weird) when I meet this guy who has three legs. Needless to say he played the drums for some metal band, and he won’t stop following me around and talking about his band. Finally, in order to shut him up, I tell him and his other friend (who apparently was with us) that we should start a band. For some reason we call ourselves The Big Bang Theory Dawgs (yeah, spelled like that) and we play electronic music throughout Europe for the rest of the dream. Which, unfortunately, feels like three hours. And The Big Bang Theory Dawgs aren’t very fun to listen to.
The hell?
My dreams keep getting stranger and stranger. I’m not even going to attempt an interpretation of this, because I can’t for the life of me think of what it was that triggered this. Especially the “cubes” (you’ll see).
Onward!
In this dream, it feels like I’m not where I am. It’s like I’m watching myself on TV, but it’s not me (even though it really is). So I’m with these two guys and we’re in a helicopter that’s landing at the top of this jungle-esque landscape. Below us is this tan concrete ramp that must be about thirty feet across and leads down into this huge pool of water. Looking out, you can see that this one ramp leads into a center square (full of water, mind you) and from this square branch out several perpendicular streets, each also full of water.
We land and, like we’re on the Discovery Channel or something, we begin talking to these cameras that apparently came with us about the “natives” that live in the area and their rituals. Some other tour guy comes up to us and starts explaining, as we walk down the ramp towards the water with our pants legs rolled up, what different creatures live in the water. I’m looking down and I see these eel-like things swimming around and say, “so basically, these people live in water filled with bugs and eels?”
And the tour guy says, “yes, but only when the water’s high.”
“The higher the water, the more eels?”
“Yes.”
For some reason, by this point, we’re no longer in the water but are standing near the edges of the giant ramp. I look down and suddenly see that the square is filled with people who are treading water, all looking up at us on the ramp. Another guy, who is apparently the chief of these “natives,” is standing with us and is ready to make a sacrifice to the water. Now we’re all holding these knives. He takes his knife, takes a small girl who seems to have appeared out of nowhere, and cuts a little cube out of her shoulder.
He takes this cube and tosses it into the crowd with his knife. He then gets some other…let’s just call them “samples” of people and tosses them over to us, who are standing on the opposite side. We catch them with our knives and toss them into the crowd.
This appears to be some sort of major ritual, because after we do this, the crowd goes swimming out of the square down all the major streets, draining the water out of the center of the square with them. This creates a huge vacuum of air, and we all get sucked down into the square. Then the water comes rushing back in, creating a huge gust of air that pushes us back out and over the ramp into the jungle. Then I wake up.
I’d love to hear your interpretation, if you have one, because I certainly don’t.
Apologies in advance, Maggie
Maggie, if I ever make plans with you and I show up two hours late, will you hate me forever? Cause you did in my dream and it was quite depressing.
I don’t remember much of the details of this particular dream, but I’ll try to lay out the basics for you. Here’s the scene: it’s winter, and to my knowledge in the dream I had previously made some plans with Maggie to meet her in the Ag Sci lab (where else?) at some time later in the afternoon. Well, I’m basically dinking around the entire day—I fool around in my dorm room, I go and make snowmen outside Wallace, I talk to a priest (???)—I carry on for hours on end before I realize—oh crap!—I need to meet Maggie and I’m at least two hours late. At this point I’m up in the computer lab in the Ag Sci, so I run down the stairs and see Maggie there, and she is pissed off! She starts screaming at me, “where the fuck have you been, I’ve been waiting here for two hours! What could possibly have taken you so long?” She then proceeds to give me a good slap across the face and then walked out. I stand there for a little while, rather dazed.
Then I go take a Spanish class from my Korean math teacher.
Don’t ask me to explain, because I have no idea.
And Maggie, I don’t think you ever have to worry about this situation ever occurring because it’s rare that I’m ever even five minutes late for anything.
I really don’t have a good title for this one. There is no logical explanation, I just don’t.
Good advice: don’t combine opening your window on a really cold night, using a really warm blanket, and surfing eBay minutes before going to bed, unless you want really weird dreams.
So in this dream, I am part eBay item, part eBay seller. eBay has opened this live bidding thing where bidders and the seller can chat in a chat room about the specific item being bid on. I don’t quite know what item it was, but my little posse of supporters and I were constantly trying to boost the sale of said item and trying to refute claims that it was a lousy little thing, whatever it was. What made this dream more interesting was the fact that I was waking up about every half hour, either from being really cold from the window being open (keep in mind that I keep my window open all the time at night, whatever the temperature), or really warm from my overcompensating with a really warm blanket. It was weird cause each time it was like I paused the dream and could enter right back into it as soon as I went back asleep. Strange.
I don’t know if we ever sold it, though.
A blog? Egads, why?!
Seriously. I’ve been having the strangest dreams lately, and all but the last one involved some sort of struggle and/or death. Let me illustrate:
Dream 1: in which my mom has a boyfriend and all he does is sleep
This dream involved some sort of strange scenario in which my mom was dating some guy who did nothing but sleep in this little cottage of his. I don’t remember much fro this dream (seeing as how it’s been awhile since this dream occurred) but I remember some sort of significant struggle in the rain. It was weird.
Dream 2: in which everyone I know comes into my dorm room and commits suicide
The strange thing was, I was completely calm about it. Over the course of a day I kept going in and out of my room in McConnell and found each time that one of my friends had been taken away by ambulance after attempting suicide. My mom, too. I just remember having these calm conversations regarding suicide with each person in this hallway with a lot of fountains before each person went about it. Strange.
Dream 3: in which I engage in a tremendous struggle with my alarm clock and bees
This was a few nights ago. I had this alarm clock and I couldn’t get the buzzer to turn off to save my life. I was hitting it with stuff, throwing it, stomping on it…I just couldn’t get it to turn off. Finally I dumped some water over it and it finally went off. Then, while my mom and I were standing there and these bees came up and started attacking us. I tried the water, but that didn’t subdue them. I woke up soon after that.
Dream 4: in which a hypothetical swimming pool is never found and my friends and I do weird things
Ah, now this one I can give you details on, had it last night. My mom and I are in the car, our destination being some big swimming pool/center that we had been wanting to go to for some time. We found the parking lot but it was full, so we drove down this dirt road to find a different parking lot that was not so much a parking lot but a gravel driveway under a plastic hood thing. We parked the car there and the woman running the tollbooth (for lack of a better word) told us that we could only park the car there for eight hours—any longer and there would be a $150 fine. I told my mom that we were just going swimming; we wouldn’t be parked there for more than two hours so we didn’t have to worry.
So somehow, after this, the dream transitions and I’m no longer with my mom but sitting in this kind of carnival place with Matt and a couple other people I don’t know. From what I recall, Matt was slightly pissed at everyone there because they were giving him crap about something. Then it shifted again and I was up in this huge block thing in the sky, like a giant form of one of those light bulb signs they have underneath the Best Western sign. It was this huge thing, and there were a bunch of people (including me) in it and we were apparently acting as the bulbs. I remember thinking that this was a major test of skill, and if you were to mess up you would be kicked out of the block and fall to the ground below.
Then it shifted again. I was out of the cube, and it was dark outside. Now I was in this car with Sean and a bunch of his friends. For some reason, Sean had his shirt off the whole time (ooh, racy!) and we were all at the Taco Bell drive-thru just kind of sitting in the car not doing anything. It was strange because I didn’t know any of his friends, but it was fun, too.
then finally, I end up back at the “parking lot” with my mom. It’s lighter out than it was when I was with Sean, but when I look at my watch it says 9:30, which meant that we were an hour and a half past our eight-hour limit of staying there for free. My mom was all upset about the fine, so I said without really meaning it that I would pay it. She said, “that would be nice.” I wasn’t expecting that reply.
Hmm. When I was thinking about typing this list, the prominent themes running through all of them were both water and struggle. Now I realize that each dream involved my mom. Freud would have something to say, indeed. Though I do think the water’s a prominent thing, though. It’s said that water in dreams represents strong emotions. The fact that locating said water in these dreams had become increasingly difficult must say something. Hidden or repressed emotions, perhaps?
Who knows. I should stop analyzing my own dreams.
Apparently, I love Sartre
I had a strange and intriguing dream last night. Since this is my blog and I divulge all sorts of random crap on it, I shall now tell you of my dream!
Okay. So in my dream I’m at work as normal, doing my normal, boring routine. Then I look up at the front and see Shannyn standing there. I go over there and talk to her for a little while. She’s looking for a job, so I suggest to her to work with us. She doesn’t say anything and leaves. I go about my daily business, including dealing with this one jerk that doesn’t seem to know how to give me the correct change.
Later in the day I’m training a new girl, and it takes me a little while to realize it’s Shannyn. I’m happy that she’s working with me, so I’m trying to train her on the fry machine because it was my favorite thing to do and I was hoping it would be fun for her, too.
Somehow, after awhile, the back of the store is transformed into this huge metal room with a bunch of flaming pits and huge groups of people standing around. I go up to this one guy who’s got a bunch of these little dolls in a pile around him. He looks at me and says, “quick! Choose a doll!” I don’t have much time to look through them so I pick the first one I recognize—a doll resembling Jean-Paul Sartre. So I grab it just as I hear a familiar voice behind me say, “I’ll take the Nietzsche doll.” I turn around and see Maggie getting her doll. I was pissed that she was able to find Nietzsche.
But it is evident later that I am rather attached to my little Sartre doll, because after awhile we are all lined up with our dolls getting ready to do something—I’m not sure what—with the dolls. I notice a few people ahead of me in the line are throwing their dolls into this big incinerator. I start screaming and crying when I see this, clinging all the while to my little miniature Sartre, not wanting to throw him into the incinerator because I’ve become very attached to him. The people in charge of all this didn’t quite know what to do with me.
Hm. I wonder what this means.
I know this much, though…
…I freaking want a Sartre doll.
Blog 339: in which I partake in an old fashioned interpretation of my dreams (Freudian style!)
So here we go: since I’m reading Freud’s “Interpretation of Dreams,” I’ve decided to take several dreams I’ve had over the past few days (ones that I had written down the morning after) and analyze them using Freud’s methods. I must say, a lot was explained:
Dream #1: “I was dreaming of the way I think—that is, I was looking at something which resembled ideas and thoughts crisscrossing and passing through a synapse in my brain…the words (intelligible) were colored various neon—yellow, pink, blue, green—and were swiftly shooting across the black synapse on dotted tracks. Then I thought of the phrase “orchestrated chaos” in response to how the mind works, and then went on to try to justify (or fail to justify) this idea. I went on to think that if one uses the concept of an orchestra, one must assume that there is a conductor present—a god figure. I do not believe this is so, but I could not, in the dream, think of another concept/idea to define the way the mind works.”
According to Freud, the material for dreams arises solely from experiences of the day prior. In other words, no matter what is in your dream, it has come from something you thought about/experienced/were reminded of the day before.
“passing through a synapse in my brain”
This probably comes from a discussion I had with Nick over MSN Messenger regarding his psychology 101 homework—the reading involving how the brain sends messages from one neuron to the next. Of course, we’d had this discussion a few weeks ago. However, I was looking through my conversation history last night before I went to bed, and I came across this conversation. Boom! Explanation.
“I thought of the phrase ‘orchestrated chaos'”
I think this leads back to my on psychology class. On the day before spring break, we watched a video on personality and how it develops over ones lifetime. The video used the analogy of an orchestra, showing at different stages a child conductor, a teen conductor, and an adult conductor. I remember thinking at the time the phrase “orchestrated chaos” as the phrase to explain early personality. Yesterday in band, as we were playing, the phrase came to me again. And that’s what reminded me of it.
“a god figure.”
This one’s simple: discussions today in Core about the origin of the world and the presence (or lack thereof) of a god.
Dream #2: “I was upstairs in my parent’s house, and I remember feeling like I was going out of my mind. I was throwing all these papers around and was flipping all these tables over. I was screaming at my mom, all the while thinking, ‘it doesn’t matter what I do—I’m insane!’ Eventually, I ran upstairs and hid under the bathtub. I was afraid that I had scared my kitten, Annabelle.”
“and was flipping all these tables over”
This is probably the most interesting link. I had to think about it for a little while to figure out where this came from. Then it hit me: The Simpsons. That night I was watching The Simpsons on TV and it was the episode in which the family is put on a reality TV show. Anyway, near the end, the abandoned Simpsons and other castaway reality TV stars rebelled against the cameramen, destroying their campsite and flipping over tables. I found it very strange that I dreamt about this.
“and hid under the bathtub. I was afraid that I had scared my kitten, Annabelle.”
This is another easy link. Last weekend I was at home and I accidentally knocked over a bunch of crap that I’d had stacked up in the closet. This scared Annabelle, who ran upstairs. I went up to look for her, and finally found her under the bathtub. On the day I had this dream, I had knocked some stuff off of my bed at my dorm. This reminded me of Annabelle, and I was glad she wasn’t there to get scared.
Eigenblogger 