Dream Journal #8

The Doomsday Device

I was being held captive in a house with my wife, son, and some woman who I didn't know. After being threatened with death we managed to lock ourselves in a back bedroom and escape out the window and over the fence. The neighbors in the next yard over were friends of my daughter, who was conspiciously absent. They helped us by giving us dark colored shirts so as to better blend in with the night.
We jumped the next fence and ended up running into a woman I used to work with at the magazine. She invited us in and we all sat down to catch up on what's been going on in each other's lives. We told her about how we were currently escaping and she told us that the people who were holding us were also building a doomsday device in their garage. I decided that we had to burn down the house before they could complete it. I grabbed some gas cans and headed back over, but got sidetracked at the other neighbor's house who happened to be having a B-B-Q.
While I was waiting for my burger to be cooked an almost cartoonish mustachioed villain climbed over the fence and tried to tackle me. I managed to spin around and land on top of him, driving his face into the steps leading up to the porch. I repeatedly hammered his head against the ground, but he kept trying to get up and pull me back to his house. I pulled him up onto the porch and began jumping on his head, crushing it flat, but he still wouldn't stop. For some reason everyone found this funny, so I began dancing on the flattened head humming the Mexican Hat Dance. Eventually I flipped him over and grabbed a knife from the B-B-Q and attempted to slit his throat. The skin fell away to reveal what seemed to be a huge spring similar to the suspension springs on a truck. Inside the coil of the spring was a clear plastic bag filled with what appeared to be blood. I cut open his shirt and the skin beneath it to reveal a strange internal system with three plastic bags filled with clear fluid suspended from his collar bones. These hung above a grouping of different sized tin whistles that gave the appearance of a pan pipe. Below the whistles were a collection of different sized and shaped glass jars.
I wasn't quite sure what it all meant, but since the man was still moving I decided to puncture the three bags. This effectively killed him.
Then I woke up.

I think this dream may speak to several of my shortcomings and fears: the way I always get sidetracked so easy, how I feel ineffective whenever I'm trying to do something important, and my fear/fascination of robots. It also fits quite nicely in my incredibly violent fantasy life wherein I'm forced to defend my family by fighting ne'er-do-wells to the death.

Dream Journal #7

Who can say no to a bath?

This dream seemed to go on for hours with me running around a ski resort looking for something. The only part I remember with any clarity is that I walked into a room and this girl named Julie, whom I dated in high school, was getting into a large bubble bath. She invited me in and I couldn't think of a reason not to join her. Once naked in the tub, I realized that were my wife to find out about it she probably wouldn't be too happy. I tried to tell Julie this, but she insisted we were just two old friends bathing and that there was nothing wrong with that. I told her that even though that was probably true, I should go anyway. That's when she started shaving my feet. So, I decided to stay. Unfortunately, before she could finish I woke up.

I feel like this dream combines my need for foot shaving with my love for sharing a bath with a woman in a safe environment. As for what it really means, who cares? Can't a semi-sexual dream just be a gift from my subconscious?

Dream Journal #6

Bob Namanny VS the mighty ibook

In this dream I was scaling a three story play structure to get to my son who was at the top. After ascending the first story I had to put my laptop bag down so I could finish the climb fast enough. As I neared the top, I looked down and saw that some neer-do-wells had taken my bag and flung it off the structure. It spun through the air and landed with a sharp crack. I yelled at the kids to knock it off but they wouldn't listen. I climbed back down the tower with my son. The whole time the kids were repeatedly throwing my laptop bag up and letting it crash. When I got to the bottom the kids were gone. I opened the bag and found my ibook trashed. I opened it gingerly and the screen was cracked and broken, but when I turned it on it still worked. I was trying to figure out how I could stabilize somehow, when Bob Namanny peeked over my shoulder and said, "that's what you get for buying a Mac." I started to yell at him that it had nothing to do with what brand of computer I had, but he wouldn't listen. He just kept telling me that I was asking for computer trouble by choosing Apple over PC.

As I lie in bed writing this on my laptop I'm wondering if my dreams are trying to tell me I'm spending too much time with my computer, and that my loyalty to it may be causing me to lose friends. Or maybe I just need to watch out for Bob Namanny because he's such a smug know-it-all.

Dream Journal #5

My Wife's Past Creates a Moral Quandary-Part Two
A dream which caused the return of my libido, featuring my wife and I.

So as to not offend, I won't go into much detail of this dream. Suffice it to say that it involved a remarkable amount of cunnilingus, and that I awoke at the same moment my wife climaxed in the dream.

Upon waking, my libido had come home to roost. It is not unusual for me to have dreams wherein problems are created or solved. Thank goodness this one sorted it's self so quickly.

Dream Journal #4

My Wife's Past Creates a Moral Quandary
A dream which caused the temporary destruction of my libido, featuring my wife and I

Donna and I were living in a city. I'd like to say it was Chicago, but I really have no evidence to support this theory. She was digging through a box of old letters when she came across a small black leather book. She opened the book and eagerly flipped through the pages. From what I could tell, it was a book full of old "green stamps" much like the ones my grandmother used to show me when I was a kid.

The stamps were arranged in patterns. When I asked why, my wife told me that the book had belonged to our friend Luke and that it was like a calendar and each stamp represented a single sexual encounter. I was impressed with the fact that there were many days that had at least two stamps on them, and some as many as four.

At this point she flipped through the book excitedly and held up a page for me to see. She proudly pointed out which stamps on the page were hers. The fact that she had slept with Luke was troubling to me since we'd all been friends for years and I had never known this about the two of them. I asked her when she slept with Luke and she replied that it had been a while ago. I asked if we had been dating at the time. She told me that she couldn't really remember, but that it was totally possible, then showed me once again which stamps were hers. I was starting to feel very hurt and angry and this upset her. She wanted to know why I couldn't just be happy for her. I told her that there was no way I could be happy for her cheating on me. She became frustrated asked if we could make a deal wherein I could have a three-way with her and the girl of my choice that night if I could just be happy for her right now.

I was totally torn. I mean the past is the past, unchangeable, whereas that night had the possibility of being sexy great. I was toying with the idea of pretending to be happy, getting the three-way, and then breaking up with her afterwards.

Then I awoke, angry and confused.

In real life this dream caused me to completely lose my libido for nearly a week. I was so freaked out. Not by the dream, but by the prospect of living in a world where I didn't care to have sex anymore. That's no world to raise a child in.
Fortunately, as we will see in Dream Journal #5, a future dream solves this quandary.

Dream Journal #3

Three Friend's Friendship Becomes Explosive
Another Veiled, Possibly Prophetic Dream Featuring Scott and my friend Cheyenne

It is a rainy afternoon and Cheyenne and I are holed up in the most run down hotel in Placer County, The Elmwood Motel. Which is also know as The Elmwood Sex Motel, and the place where ex-cons with vouchers stay.

The two of us are running around the place having a good time. Laughing a lot, and also throwing things. Basically a return to the caution free adolescent fun only available to those who are young with few responsibilities. She stops the fun and creates a serious moment where she tells me she is on the run from the cops.

There is a knock at the door.

Scott comes in and asks to have a word with me in the hallway. I leave the room and close the door. Scott tells me that he's just called the cops and told them Cheyenne was here, and that they are on the way to get her. I open the door and tell her to run, she takes off and I throw Scott up against a wall and scream at him that he's done a horrible thing. He tries to explain that it was the right thing, but I do not listen, I just keep screaming at him until I wake up.

My interpretation of this dream is that I feel like I can't trust Scott's judgment concerning personal matters. Which does not mean I can trust my own, it just gives me one more person besides myself who I can't count on for guidance.

Your friend, who might not trust your judgment
jason

Dream Journal #2

A Dream About a Friend's Vagina
Featuring My Wife and a Friend's Ex-Wife who Shall Remain Nameless Due to the Horrible Things I am About to Write About Her.

My wife Donna and I are lying in bed, naked. We're just talking, naked. In walks the girl. She is puffy and glossy in the way diabetics who ignore they're diabetes usually are, she is also naked. There is no sexual chemistry between us, much like real life which is not exclusively due to her puffiness, but mostly due to her personality. She says hi and my wife hops out of bed and walks over to her.

Donna starts this really awkward explanation about how she has worries that her own vagina is "weird" and asks if the girl would allow her to look at hers to see if everyone's was that way. I watch with horror as the girl says sure and lies on her back to allow my wife better access. Donna bends down and parts the girls labia with a pushing-the-dirt-off-the-hidden-clue-motion. She does this several times increasing the size of the girls puffy, glossy, diabetic, vagina to inhuman proportions. Is it spreads out to eclipse her entire pelvis-

I awake with a start and convulse mildly with a fear of falling back to sleep that lasts for seconds before I fall into a deep vaginaless sleep.

I have no explanation for this dream, but welcome your interpretations

Friend to Vaginas at Large, but not Large Vaginas,
jason

Dream Journal #1

The Man VS The Artists
A Veiled, Possibly Prophetic Dream Featuring Scott

It is Midnight. Scott and I are seated at a picnic table at Sierra Junior College, my Alma Matter. It is cold and the fog is rolling in as we are sitting and working on a screenplay entitled “Love and Math.” (In real life we were working on a screenplay with that title) From out of the fog come several police officers in riot gear. They surround our table, guns drawn, confiscate our script, handcuff us and lead us off into the night. This is all done under the guise of an anti-terrorism, pre-emptive strike against subversive art.

We are drugged unconscious and awake in a concrete cell with two rooms. As the world comes into focus for me I hear someone crying. I stumble into the next room and find Scott crying inconsolably. I have the feeling that we were both abused in some way and that Scott has been “broken.” I scream out through the bars and demand to be released.
I wake up.

My interpretation of this dream is that this new challenge, screenplay writing, will drive Scott to the brink of madness and leave me virtually unscathed. Scott thinks it means he’s the one who was willing to take the bullet for the two of us, but I told him that was very unlikely because my unconscious considers him a big fat pussy.

Your friend in dreams, who thinks less of you than he waking thought,
jason

Less Truth for the Sake of Interest

After reading too many blogs about what kind of illness bolggers are suffering from, or what they had for lunch, or a thousand other stupid things, I have decided to quit blogging about anything that resembles the waking truth. I will now deal only in completely fictitious scenarios or my dreams.

Thank you for your patience as I rebuild the blogosphere to less acurately reflect my thoughts, feelings, and experiences.

Your Friend,
jason