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[Haspen]

I've had another of those movieesque dreams...

Sadly instead of writing it down properly, I spent 20 minutes pondering it first, and thus forgot some details, bleh

Anyways.

My humble self, my dog and my grammar professor (old, short man who knows 20 or so languages) went to Peru to discover an ancient alien crash site in some mayan pyramid.

First stage of the dream involved visiting a pygmy village, but I don't remember it correctly. There was a feast with lots of apples.

Second stage, we basically began going inside the mayan pyramid. There was ton of golden frescos depicting people impaled on spikes, or people crushed by rolling boulder, or eaten by snakes. Apparently neither my professor nor my dog (who warped into anthropomorphic creature by now) seen them.
So at one point, a huge spherical rock began to roll after us. I began to run, until I saw my professor stand in the path of the rock. He then lifted this old branch, shouted 'By the power of Greyskull!' and the rock turned into pile of sand. Said pile began rolling down the corridor and we were all carried by the sandy wave. I remember screaming 'Weeeee!'.

We ended in a giant golden chamber. There was pedestal with Crystal Skull, and a Palenque astronaut mosaic in the background, and several crystal statues of a woman pointing at the Crystal Skull. There was also skeleton of someone dressed exactly like Indiana Jones.

My dog said "He's dead, Jim." And then, he started repeating that phrase every second. I saw my professor walking toward the skull...

And then my alarm clock woke me up :I

[Starver]

Wut? <snip>

This morning I had something that was a little less savoury than usual, as well.  (Well, I had about fifteen intensive but largely unreportable[1] dream-threads in a given 3 hour window of sleep, was awake for an hour and even considering going into work early and then had the following at the conclusion of a further hour's-worth of sleep...)

So, let's see, I'll pick it up at just after something to do with me using a console[2] to record sound, only it didn't work well for me at all, someone else was getting it to work quite nicely, thank you, and apparently this is because they had a blogging account and I didn't (this was the in-dream explanation, which even made no sense to in-dream me).  Cue some distractive stuff about car radios (not apparently related to the previous audio recording) and some difficulty parking the cars (strangely foreshadowing this morning's workplace situation, but that could have easily been predicted!), and then I got co-opted into helping make a romantic gesture for a couple.

They were (as I assume everyone was) to be sleeping in one or two (depending if they were sharing) of a series of boxes, and although there's dream-haze still over how this was done, they'd be writing letters to each other and placing them in each others' boxes as the other sleeps (obviously, this needed 3rd-party help, to be simultaneously achieved).  Something of this kind was apparently accomplished, but then we lost (or could not locate) the box(es) they were sleeping in.  Someone set up something of a glowing cuboidal 'wireframe' (like a Minecraft "this is the block under focus" indicator, in white, but sleeping-box shaped) which was set to the task of finding the location, accomplished with some sort of reading/indication that this was the "happy box".  It was exactly where it should have been.

Just before we.. I don't know, were we going to wake the happy couple..?  ...anyway, the box suddenly gets 'boxnapped' in the back of a truck in an ultra-high-speed chase that went all of forty yards distance before we caught up with it, and looked in the box to find the happy couple bound, gagged (actually, in mouthless balaclavas) and not moving, and the letters upon them were not the ones we had been expecting to find, but were typed messages from 'beyond the grave', authored apparently by two lost spirits, giving some social networking account details as proof of who they were, and saying as how this couple (still unmoving, probably now assumed to be dead) had been responsible for their deaths, in some unexplained way, but now they were revenged.  In a similarly unexplained manner, save for perhaps the confusion and action we had just observed.


It was strange.  And very probably a downer.  And then I think I woke up, but it's always possible that another subsequent minutiae of details or two never survived to be passed on, like the (seemingly) fifteen hours or so of undictated dreamscape action that had been had in this particular one-hour period of sleep alone.




[1] One reason I've never considered a dream-book is that I'd be writing/typing for three hours, and probably end up foretting the 'point' of half of what I'd dream before I got around to it, or fleshing out the original skeleton 'plots' if I tried "quick, get the gist of everything" approach on what remained viable in my consciousness.

[2] In the traditional sense.  Some strange archaic computer-like cabinet thing in the open air, somewhere in what I probably would describe as a part compound, part junk-yard, part refugee camp, taking into account other events of the dream that still remain consistent.

[Graknorke]

I have had two nights of Friday dreams in a row. This saddens me.
Especially because one was before a Monday.

[Wrex]

I dreamed about YOU AT FINAL BOSS.


And it was glorious.

[Xantalos]

I dreamed about YOU AT FINAL BOSS.


And it was glorious.

Dear god. Describe it, please.

[Wrex]

How do you even describe that madness?

[Vorthon]

In the eldritch language of dead and forgotten gods?

[Hanslanda]

I dreamed about YOU AT FINAL BOSS.


And it was glorious.

Dear god. Describe it, please.

This, +1. 

In the eldritch language of dead and forgotten gods?

And this too.

[Wrex]

Alright, it went like this:

Lichette was just given the cursed rings, and backhanded something that looked like a thousand squids mating back, who I assume is Xantalos, Dirg looked like a generic hero, the Lichette was horrific to behold, vorthon was an anthropomorphic Snow Leopard, Hans was....Hans. Dressed like a celtic berserker and fighting a Raptor for a gigantic glowing sword. Da _Nang was fencing with corai, an Argonian and Kobold Ninja respectively, and I was furry and enormous and angry. Oh, and Misko looked like a Speess Mahreeene. There was lighting and fire and lasers And Misko and Dirg trading chainsword for longsword blows. I pounced on Corai and bit him Then Yoink announces he is going out to get food, we all give our orders, and we sit around awkwardly talking about politics. The Corai wolfs out and Dirg beats him senseless. Then the food arrives and we all eat and have pleasant conversation, except for Corai.

And then I woke up.

[Hanslanda]

Alright, it went like this:

Lichette was just given the cursed rings, and backhanded something that looked like a thousand squids mating back, who I assume is Xantalos, Dirg looked like a generic hero, the Lichette was horrific to behold, vorthon was an anthropomorphic Snow Leopard, Hans was....Hans. Dressed like a celtic berserker and fighting a Raptor for a gigantic glowing sword. Da _Nang was fencing with corai, an Argonian and Kobold Ninja respectively, and I was furry and enormous and angry. Oh, and Misko looked like a Speess Mahreeene. There was lighting and fire and lasers And Misko and Dirg trading chainsword for longsword blows. I pounced on Corai and bit him Then Yoink announces he is going out to get food, we all give our orders, and we sit around awkwardly talking about politics. The Corai wolfs out and Dirg beats him senseless. Then the food arrives and we all eat and have pleasant conversation, except for Corai.

And then I woke up.

... Can I sig all of that?

Also, I like that I look like myself.

[ISP]

My dream desided to continue from where it was yesterday, where I was contemplating for a while weither or not something in my fridge that I was unsure what it was was edible, from there it shifted to a party in a library that suddenly became part of a hostage situation of a rather rogue and sexy leader of some thug bruisers, I was at that point suprised since that stated they were there for my time machine plans and they would kill anyone who would stop them, after some ransacking of my labritory and library and much of my dreamhouse later they started questiong the guests who were suddenly all in mascerade (thats probably due to that Dishonored gameplay video I watched a while back) they found me out and me and the girl I'd done yesterday tried to make an escape with my time machine prototype with help of one of the guests who turned out to be a spy trying to steal my time machine and we got caught by the sexy hostage taker and and my girl got shot after the spy reveiled he was working for the people the sexy rouge girl works for and my portable time machine got damaged and desided to send me into the future uncontrolably but not before witnessing the sexy rogue and the thugs killing all my party guests, at that point I vagued through to the "future" which was darker due to alien incursion (for real it just got dark in my room) I met a nice alien who said he'd take me to the capital and the leader whom would probably be able to help me get back in my own time or fix my time machine or just know what to do with me and I followed while he annoyingly described that his people came to earth in a giant ship and desided to park in the direct path that light goes to this part of the earth because appearently they are alergic to light or some shit, on the way I road on a mag lift train and saw some vampires or "dark dwellers" as my guide so handed ly pointed out before I desided to wake up...

My dream are always so colorfully full of strange concepts its just fun.

[Starver]

My dream are always so colorfully full of strange concepts its just fun.

Yup...

Here, have something I prepared first thing this morning (but only just gotten around to even thinking of posting...):

#####

Last Night's titbit:

Part way down the line (I think I was a 'temp' in the office concerned, but how I got there and what else I did escapes me, being part of a largely forgotten earlier segment of that dream), there was a machine (a bit of a mini computer[1]) that had a novel ventilation system that included a rubber belt drive that imparted spin to the fan unit bodies (on top of their blade's nomal spin!) which I presumed was for efficiency/noise reasons.  Certainly the rubber belt was fairly quiet in operation (though at times I had to untwist it, while in use, for optimal operation), but really can't comment about its efficiency.

Anyhow, it had been designed/tasked purely to print out on little white cards the name of two cricketers (or sometimes one) and some screenplay action descriptions relevant to their interaction (or solo performance) in a cricketing scenario.  The actual example that stands out was Len Hutton and <no-one else>, playing a shot with the camera filming as if in first person (presumably Len's, although then how would it benefit from being the famous Len Hutton?[2]  And how come the bowler isn't even important/seen?).

The aim, as it was explained to me, was to produce many and varied cue-cards that would describe scenes that could be filmed to produce publicity shots and advertising material to promote a charity devoted to curing some form of cancer or other.  There were stack-loads of these little cards, a lot of them hand-annotated, that had been produced over several decades[3] and used (or at least considered for) previous campaigns over that long time-frame.

I had to regretfully point out to the guy (presumably my temporary boss, who was enthusiastically showing me the machine and its cards) that cricket wasn't really a game I was overly knowledgeable about (the legion of players' names, at least) and that my only real involvement in film-making was as an extra in a film, many years ago.  (Both those details are truths from my real life, outside of this dream.  Never let it be said that I'm a fantacist or prone to making up strange facts during my auto-cognisant slumbering sessions!)  This did not appear to dismay him, at all, however.


Something else happened, immediately after (not including some more wrestling with the rubber belt[4] (which also powered the card throughput mechanism), and briefly being invited to observe one of the cards' specifications being filmed[5]), but not a lot.  And the details have already waned despite it being not so long[6] since I 'experienced' it.  But the above seems enough to give a further example of my nocturnal storyboarding.





[1] As in the larger end of the "mini-computer, midi-computer, micro-computer" range, this was no modern 3U 'blade' server we're talking about here, but a floor-standing unit (with its top off, for continual maintenance).

[2] By being in a dream, of course...  In my dreams I'm regularly seeing 'myself' whoever 'I' am, at that time) in a 3rd-person viewpoint, yet it's still strictly a 1st-person POV in dream-logic.  Perhaps it's a bit of a "Picasso's bull" perspective, seeing all sides at once.

[3] Given how quickly this machine regurgitated new cards, during its demonstration, there were far too few to have been produced continuously, or even in frequent batches, across this machine's apparent life-time.  Dream-me already pondered how many actual possibly combinations of cricketers and camera directions might well be possible, and had decided that this was the major limiting factor.  They probably waited until the close of the each cricketing season and added in all the newly-famous players to the database/whatever so that it could spew out more novel (and meaningful) combinations that had not been possible before then.  I had a sneaking suspicion that nobody left the database, so it's possible that Donald Bradman might have been hopelessly paired with either W.G. Grace (who will have been dead) or one of today's stars (who may not yet have been born when he was still active) in Donald's own time/around now, respectively.

[4] I'm sure it was set up as a mobius, despite clearly having a smooth side and a corrugated 'tooth-like' side that did not transition at one point.  It was probably Escheresque, but taken to the next level (like an 'imaginary' number squared gives a 'real' result, only in this case still with some strange impossibilities), but it was not just double-twisted.  I know, because dream logic made that 'untruism' very clear to me, in the same I might get to know that "this woman is my sister"/etc, in a suitable scenario.

[5] It was actually a historical card (possibly the aforementioned Len Hutton one), and I was watching it "having had been filmed", by being there back when it had been made to observe it.  More 'dream logic', of course.

[6] I'm still in bed, as I set this to keyboard and screen, although it will be a while before I'm at liberty to transfer this to the forums, at all.  Should I have decided to bother doing so.

[ISP]

I was trying on armor all night, it all looked so nice, and it was just me trying on armor.

[Yoink]

I just had one helluva dream.

Can't remember exactly how it started. I was myself, I think I had moved out to live with a friend or something, not sure. I know I had just moved intoa new place with a friend at one point.
But anyhow, he and I (Or maybe just I?) were hanging out with this large group of old friends, mostly people I know/have known in real life. We were at some sort of club/shopping mall, it was all pretty fun, I felt at ease amongst them and wanted to hang out with them more often.

At the end of the evening they added me on Facebook, apparently, and I was back at this strange new place with my friend/brother/whoever it was at the time. (This part is really hazy, I'm afraid) Anyway, I was looking through their Facebook pictures for one to make an amusing comment on, (For some reason, I remember the comment I was going to make- Someone had mentioned 'studs' in a comment on one, and I was going to say "I see lots of studs in this photo!" referring to a spiked armband someone was wearing) when another old friend suddenly showed up contacted me, apparently he lived in this new area too, looking kinda worried and upset. (Somehow I could see him. I dunno. Video call? It was more like he just showed up, but apparently he didn't know where I was, so I'm guiessing phone/internet)
He said something about hoping none of my family had been involved, and I was like "wut" and he explained that he'd seen on the news, there had been some explosion/murderous rampage back where I used to live.

I was shocked, even though I couldn't think who would have been involved, and quickly grabbed a computer (for better internet) and looked up some news site, probably Yahoo.
I started to read some madness about these big bikie-looking guys who had massacred a bunch of people and blown up a fuel tanker or something. I was reading on to make sure no-one I knew was killed.

At this point the dream sortof shifted, and rather than focusing on me, it shifted to some dashing criminal-type-guy who had been hiding out in the slums where I (apparently) lived before. I may have been somehow related to/a friend of him, I'm not sure.  The dream's fading so I can't really remember quite what it was he did, whether he robbed a bank or killed people or what, but whatever he did the cops/sherrif was after him in a big way.

The slum he was in was an interesting place, filled with little shacks and shanties and with pigpens and such stretching out into all the little alleyways. I don't remember much other than it was a chaotic, noisy maze of a place, and that I'm pretty sure it hadn't actually been in the earlier part of the dream.
Anyway, the whole 'massacre' thing had started off (this was a bit of a flashback) with something this young rouge did to anger some hardened criminal who had just got out of prison, this big thug with a bald head who used a shovel as a weapon of choice. I think whenever he was actually pictured in the dream, he was soaked in blood.

Whatever the protagonist had done, be it steal something of this guy's or kill one of his gangmembers, the  evil thug had publicly sworn that he would hunt the guy down, rape him and chop off his limbs with a shovel. The future didn't seem bright for Mister MainCharacter, since the brute had some big gang army of weird bikie/sumo-looking men.

So that was at least part of the reason why Maincharacter was hiding out in the slums. I can't remember quite what he got up to meanwhile, but the slum was a pretty cool place to hide out in. People were loyal and such, protecting their fellow undesirables from the law.
But eventually, some sheriff made his way into the slum, looking for the wanted criminal believed to be hiding out there. Most of his questions were met with the usual silence, but then some sortof scuffle happened, (to do with a chikcen, I tjhink) and he confronted some creepy-looking guy in a pink shirt, demanding to know where MainCharacter was hiding.

Apparently this guy wasn't one of the clannish, honourable slum folk, and he grinned nervously as he raised a hand, pointing and telling the sheriff the guy was holed up in a shack on one side of town. The sheriff straightaway turned to head over there, but unknown to him he was being watched.

I'm not sure whether there was a second flashback (flashbackception!) here or if I already knew about this next chracter, but he was well-known, this hardbitten, stern-faced old criminal with a grey pony-tail/handlebars combo, tough-as-nails and not long ago let out of prison. (Can't remember exactly what he did, assuming it involved shootin') He was usually bitter, selfish and cynical from his long, hard life, but when he saw this nosy sheriff, an avatar of the hated law, about to arrest this fresh-faced young crook and throw him into jail, something compelled him to act.

He leveled his big, magnum(?) revolver at the sheriff, stopping him in his tracks, and told him to go home.
The sheriff was shocked at first, then frightened, and then got angry, shouting at the old gunslinger that he was a fool, that he'd just got out of [charges] and would be putting himself straight back in prison for the rest of his miserable life!
"I know," the guy said, "So I'd rather not do it. You just turn around and go home, sheriff." He looked sad about the whole thing, but grim and determined. So when the blustering sheriff went for his gun, the old fellow (who looked a lot like Revolver Ocelot) shot him dead with a loud bang.
As people watched in awe and the sheriff toppled limp to the dusty ground, the dream had a close-up on his weatherbeaten old face. He sorta made this resigned shrug, realising he was a hunted man, and turned and moved off.

...Then I woke up, damnit. It was such an awesome dream, holy cow. I never got to the bit where the massacre happened, either.
Most fascinating, best-remembered dream I've had in a while. I knew I couldn't risk losing it, so I got up, hopped straight on Bay12 to share it before I forgot. That explains certain errors etc

[ISP]

Dreamed of a buffet with just chocklate cake, I really just wanted some chicken.