I had this dream a few years ago. It was absolutely lovely.
In my dream, it was my mom's side of the family's dinner, and for some reason the turkey was lost.
So instead we cooked and ate my cousin Patrick.
The end.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Hannah
First, I was on The Biggest Loser, and I'm not a large person, so that was confusing. Also, since my new kitten has been pooping all over my room lately and it's really disgusting and stresses me out, there was a bunch of human feces everywhere on the Biggest Loser ranch.
This is my favorite Biggest Loser, Olivia.
This is a lot cuter than what my cat has been leaving around my room.
After the ranch, I went to a small neighborhood close by with a few friends. We took a walk and then I left again to go make a movie.
When I arrived at the movie-making venue, I made a shocking discovery. (On a side note, I don't think it was shocking for my dream self, it was shocking to my real self. My dream self obviously had already known about this.)
I had a daughter.
She was six years old, blonde, and her name was Hannah.
My dream self was only taken aback a slight bit about the sudden appearance of my daughter Hannah. We found ourselves in the little girl's section of a department store and I was like a kid in a candy store, running around and picking out outfits for Hannah. I found a little shirt-dress thing that looked like Rapunzel's dress from "Tangled."
After collecting Hannah and the clothes, we went to make our movie. However, we got side-tracked once again at an indoor public pool. I decided to teach Hannah how to swim.
Much to the astonishment of myself and the Hispanic family that was in the pool with us, Hannah caught on after less than five minutes of instruction, bravely pushing off the wall and swimming laps back and forth across the length of the pool. I was so proud of her.
We finally made it to the movie site. My old friend Kyle from high school was directing the movie, and I remember my friend Brian was in the movie with us.
We were all seated in an auditorium, getting ready to deliver our lines. Hannah and I were a few rows and several seats apart.
When filming began, most of the actors performed flawlessly, including my very gifted daughter. I, however, forgot my lines over and over again, and never managed to deliver them successfully before waking up from the dream.
And that's the story of Hannah.
This is my favorite Biggest Loser, Olivia.
This is a lot cuter than what my cat has been leaving around my room.
After the ranch, I went to a small neighborhood close by with a few friends. We took a walk and then I left again to go make a movie.
When I arrived at the movie-making venue, I made a shocking discovery. (On a side note, I don't think it was shocking for my dream self, it was shocking to my real self. My dream self obviously had already known about this.)
I had a daughter.
She was six years old, blonde, and her name was Hannah.
My dream self was only taken aback a slight bit about the sudden appearance of my daughter Hannah. We found ourselves in the little girl's section of a department store and I was like a kid in a candy store, running around and picking out outfits for Hannah. I found a little shirt-dress thing that looked like Rapunzel's dress from "Tangled."
After collecting Hannah and the clothes, we went to make our movie. However, we got side-tracked once again at an indoor public pool. I decided to teach Hannah how to swim.
Much to the astonishment of myself and the Hispanic family that was in the pool with us, Hannah caught on after less than five minutes of instruction, bravely pushing off the wall and swimming laps back and forth across the length of the pool. I was so proud of her.
We finally made it to the movie site. My old friend Kyle from high school was directing the movie, and I remember my friend Brian was in the movie with us.
We were all seated in an auditorium, getting ready to deliver our lines. Hannah and I were a few rows and several seats apart.
When filming began, most of the actors performed flawlessly, including my very gifted daughter. I, however, forgot my lines over and over again, and never managed to deliver them successfully before waking up from the dream.
And that's the story of Hannah.
Monday, November 14, 2011
College Nightmares
Since leaving college, I've had several different anxiety dreams about my experience there. I'm remembering only bits and pieces of each, so I'm just going to summarize a couple of the interesting parts.
The first stress dream I remember having involved me getting literally stabbed in the back by my orientation leader.
I spent the rest of the dream searching around the parts of campus my sub-conscious remembers to try and find the leader and get revenge. I remember she had short, dark brown hair and was wearing a navy blue polo shirt when the stabbing occurred, so that's what I was looking for.
There was also the standard "can't find the classroom" bit in that same dream. I was frantically trying to find my piano class in the hallways of the music building, and I had almost driven myself completely mad when I remembered - I dropped out of college. I didn't need to go to piano class anymore.
The second college nightmare was far more interesting, and far less stressful.
In this dream, my classes were strange and warped, some even life-threatening. We did inexplicable things, and I know for a fact that either I or what I think was a foreign exchange student soiled a pair of pants and I had to run to my car to get a clean pair.
The exchange student was in one of the classes with me, and in the class we had a challenge that if we lost, we were eaten by a giant monster-machine. We were designing some sort of statue or figurine or something, it was really trippy. There was a lot of the colors green and pink involved.
The exchange student hadn't completely realized what was going on and so lost the challenge, but the student who was in charge (I don't think we had a professor) decided to spare her life.
Later on in that dream, around the time that the pants were soiled, I came across my old music theory professor, who I used to think was a huge dick but more recently found out that he's actually a sweetheart after he did something very nice for me.
He's late-middle-aged, and has a long, grey ponytail. He isn't necessarily attractive, but in my dream he was significantly hotter than I remembered. Also, he was dressed as Captain Hook from Peter Pan.
On a side note, I know exactly where my brain got the Captain Hook thing from. I was watching Ellen the other day and Neil Patrick Harris was on for the Halloween show, and he was dressed up as Captain Hook and it was adorable.
Also, his partner David dressed up as Peter Pan and their kids were Tinker Bell and Smee. Seriously, how cute is that?!?! I can't even stand it! Look at how cute they are!
Anyway, back to my dream. My Captain Hook Professor and I went on some sort of an adventure together and shenanigans were carried out. I do not remember any details.
Then, in a very shocking and disturbing surprise ending to the dream, Professor Hook dramatically threw himself off of an iceberg and into the freezing ocean in order to freeze himself permanently in a block of ice.
After that, my dream took me several years into the future to my future self, who was completely insane and had returned to the iceberg that Professor Hook had thrown himself off of.
I dove into the icy water and found Professor Hook's body, and the dream ended with me dragging him up to shore in an attempt to revive him so that I could have some sort of a companion in my lonely, spinster-y life.
The first stress dream I remember having involved me getting literally stabbed in the back by my orientation leader.
I spent the rest of the dream searching around the parts of campus my sub-conscious remembers to try and find the leader and get revenge. I remember she had short, dark brown hair and was wearing a navy blue polo shirt when the stabbing occurred, so that's what I was looking for.
There was also the standard "can't find the classroom" bit in that same dream. I was frantically trying to find my piano class in the hallways of the music building, and I had almost driven myself completely mad when I remembered - I dropped out of college. I didn't need to go to piano class anymore.
The second college nightmare was far more interesting, and far less stressful.
In this dream, my classes were strange and warped, some even life-threatening. We did inexplicable things, and I know for a fact that either I or what I think was a foreign exchange student soiled a pair of pants and I had to run to my car to get a clean pair.
The exchange student was in one of the classes with me, and in the class we had a challenge that if we lost, we were eaten by a giant monster-machine. We were designing some sort of statue or figurine or something, it was really trippy. There was a lot of the colors green and pink involved.
The exchange student hadn't completely realized what was going on and so lost the challenge, but the student who was in charge (I don't think we had a professor) decided to spare her life.
Later on in that dream, around the time that the pants were soiled, I came across my old music theory professor, who I used to think was a huge dick but more recently found out that he's actually a sweetheart after he did something very nice for me.
He's late-middle-aged, and has a long, grey ponytail. He isn't necessarily attractive, but in my dream he was significantly hotter than I remembered. Also, he was dressed as Captain Hook from Peter Pan.
On a side note, I know exactly where my brain got the Captain Hook thing from. I was watching Ellen the other day and Neil Patrick Harris was on for the Halloween show, and he was dressed up as Captain Hook and it was adorable.
Also, his partner David dressed up as Peter Pan and their kids were Tinker Bell and Smee. Seriously, how cute is that?!?! I can't even stand it! Look at how cute they are!
Anyway, back to my dream. My Captain Hook Professor and I went on some sort of an adventure together and shenanigans were carried out. I do not remember any details.
Then, in a very shocking and disturbing surprise ending to the dream, Professor Hook dramatically threw himself off of an iceberg and into the freezing ocean in order to freeze himself permanently in a block of ice.
After that, my dream took me several years into the future to my future self, who was completely insane and had returned to the iceberg that Professor Hook had thrown himself off of.
I dove into the icy water and found Professor Hook's body, and the dream ended with me dragging him up to shore in an attempt to revive him so that I could have some sort of a companion in my lonely, spinster-y life.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
And the Killer is...
My great-uncle, Jim.
I'll start by describing my great-uncle Jim. I really wish I had a picture to post. Maybe I'll upload one sometime in the future and tag it onto the end of this post. We'll see.
Uncle Jim is old and kind of looks like Ebenezer Scrooge.
He has a potbelly, bushy eyebrows, puffy cheeks, hair on only the sides of his head, and he smokes a pipe. He's never been anything but nice to me, but for some reason I've always had this weird feeling of uncomfortable dislike towards him.
In the dream, he was my father and about ten times creepier, and an annoyingly, overbearingly conservative christian. (The kind of person who really, really bothers me.)
My great-uncle-father Jim was raising us (I know I had siblings, I'm not sure who they were) with unnecessary strictness and regularly made me feel guilty for doing things that he didn't think fit into his "moral code." Also, we were all living the other side of my family's cottage.
I was particularly frustrated with him one day when I walked into the bathroom to pee. To my disgust and astonishment, I looked in the toilet only to find a severed human leg floating in the bowl. (I guess it was a really big toilet.)
I don't know why I thought this would solve the problem, but I flushed the toilet. The water started to rise and I stepped backwards cautiously, knowing it was about to overflow.
As the toilet overflowed, several body parts poured out of it and into the water-logged bathroom. I ran out to the main room and brought my family in to see the dead body parts. We realized that Jim had committed the murder and dismembered his victim, trying to hide her by flushing her down the toilet.
(Dexter? Ice truck killer? Anyone?)
With that discovery, I completely lost it and freaked out at Jim. (The climate of the situation implied that this was the first time I or anyone else had confronted Jim.)
I started screaming about hypocrisy, demanding to know how Jim could make us feel guilty day after day for doing completely normal things when he was a murderer.
I actually remember part of what I yelled word for word.
"Do you not claim to live by the ten commandments? How about DO NOT KILL? DO NOT LIE? Or DO NOT STEAL, how about that? Because you stole that girl's life!"
And that's all.
Ps I think that last part about "do not steal" was a throw-back to when we read The Kite Runner in AP Lit - Baba's philosophy about how stealing is the only sin one can commit, and murder is "stealing" someone's life.
edit - I found Great-Uncle Jim in the background of a group picture at my graduation party last summer. He's not as fat as I remembered.
I'll start by describing my great-uncle Jim. I really wish I had a picture to post. Maybe I'll upload one sometime in the future and tag it onto the end of this post. We'll see.
Uncle Jim is old and kind of looks like Ebenezer Scrooge.
He has a potbelly, bushy eyebrows, puffy cheeks, hair on only the sides of his head, and he smokes a pipe. He's never been anything but nice to me, but for some reason I've always had this weird feeling of uncomfortable dislike towards him.
In the dream, he was my father and about ten times creepier, and an annoyingly, overbearingly conservative christian. (The kind of person who really, really bothers me.)
My great-uncle-father Jim was raising us (I know I had siblings, I'm not sure who they were) with unnecessary strictness and regularly made me feel guilty for doing things that he didn't think fit into his "moral code." Also, we were all living the other side of my family's cottage.
I was particularly frustrated with him one day when I walked into the bathroom to pee. To my disgust and astonishment, I looked in the toilet only to find a severed human leg floating in the bowl. (I guess it was a really big toilet.)
I don't know why I thought this would solve the problem, but I flushed the toilet. The water started to rise and I stepped backwards cautiously, knowing it was about to overflow.
As the toilet overflowed, several body parts poured out of it and into the water-logged bathroom. I ran out to the main room and brought my family in to see the dead body parts. We realized that Jim had committed the murder and dismembered his victim, trying to hide her by flushing her down the toilet.
(Dexter? Ice truck killer? Anyone?)
With that discovery, I completely lost it and freaked out at Jim. (The climate of the situation implied that this was the first time I or anyone else had confronted Jim.)
I started screaming about hypocrisy, demanding to know how Jim could make us feel guilty day after day for doing completely normal things when he was a murderer.
I actually remember part of what I yelled word for word.
"Do you not claim to live by the ten commandments? How about DO NOT KILL? DO NOT LIE? Or DO NOT STEAL, how about that? Because you stole that girl's life!"
And that's all.
Ps I think that last part about "do not steal" was a throw-back to when we read The Kite Runner in AP Lit - Baba's philosophy about how stealing is the only sin one can commit, and murder is "stealing" someone's life.
edit - I found Great-Uncle Jim in the background of a group picture at my graduation party last summer. He's not as fat as I remembered.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Turkey Leg Blues
This is actually my SECOND anxiety dream about the Renaissance Festival. That's how crazy I am.
I missed the RenFest this year, unfortunately, because I was too busy failing at college. So a few weeks after the festivities were over, I had this dream.
In the dream, I found out that they were extending the RenFest for one more weekend, so I decided to drive all the way to Nowhere, MI and attend the festival alone.
So I pulled up to the front entrance of the festival only to realize that not only was I completely alone but I was also not in costume (which is very uncharacteristic of me) and did not have any money for a ticket.
For some reason, however, there was a vendor selling turkey legs outside the entrance. They were only a dollar, so I decided to scrape together some of my loose change and have at least a turkey leg to make the experience memorable.
The vendor was an older guy, very tall and kind of fat in an old, tough man way. He was bald and had a grey/white mustache/beard combo. I think he was wearing a chain mail shirt. I gave him my dollar and he handed me a turkey leg. We made a little small talk, and he was very friendly.
I walked away and bit into my turkey leg, expecting juicy goodness, but instead got a horrifying mouthful of fat and gristle, which I immediately spit out but could somehow taste even into the next day after I woke up.
The entire turkey leg was fat, gristle, and bone, and I was not only feeling rather puke-ified but generally feeling like a failure, standing alone in street clothes outside the Renaissance Festival with no money and a piece of bone covered in fat in my hand.
Turkey legs. Fuck yeah.
I missed the RenFest this year, unfortunately, because I was too busy failing at college. So a few weeks after the festivities were over, I had this dream.
In the dream, I found out that they were extending the RenFest for one more weekend, so I decided to drive all the way to Nowhere, MI and attend the festival alone.
So I pulled up to the front entrance of the festival only to realize that not only was I completely alone but I was also not in costume (which is very uncharacteristic of me) and did not have any money for a ticket.
For some reason, however, there was a vendor selling turkey legs outside the entrance. They were only a dollar, so I decided to scrape together some of my loose change and have at least a turkey leg to make the experience memorable.
The vendor was an older guy, very tall and kind of fat in an old, tough man way. He was bald and had a grey/white mustache/beard combo. I think he was wearing a chain mail shirt. I gave him my dollar and he handed me a turkey leg. We made a little small talk, and he was very friendly.
I walked away and bit into my turkey leg, expecting juicy goodness, but instead got a horrifying mouthful of fat and gristle, which I immediately spit out but could somehow taste even into the next day after I woke up.
The entire turkey leg was fat, gristle, and bone, and I was not only feeling rather puke-ified but generally feeling like a failure, standing alone in street clothes outside the Renaissance Festival with no money and a piece of bone covered in fat in my hand.
Turkey legs. Fuck yeah.
Wedding Crashers
In this dream, my 16-year-old most-recent-ex-boyfriend announced he was getting married and sent me an invitation. Why he was getting married at 16, I don't know. Why he invited me, I don't know.
I decided to attend, with my younger brother as a date. (Keepin' it classy.) We showed up at the wedding, which was at my old church, in less-than-formal attire and went into the service well before it started.
I imagine this is what we looked like.
For some reason there was a lot of Halloween candy lying around, as if that was what they were serving at the reception later. (It was, after all, a 16-year-old's wedding.)
A few minutes after making this observation, I saw my ex in his tux, getting ready for the ceremony, and I decided we were leaving. My brother and I gathered up all of the candy that we could carry, I believe I shouted a few offensive things in the general direction of the sanctuary, and we left the church before I ever had a chance to find out who the bride was.
It would've been a dramatic exit if I had been able to find my car in the parking lot. However, my brother disappeared when we got outside and I was left alone in the cold for hours, baffled over where my car could be, my hands full of candy, until the wedding was over and everyone came outside to find me still there.
I decided to attend, with my younger brother as a date. (Keepin' it classy.) We showed up at the wedding, which was at my old church, in less-than-formal attire and went into the service well before it started.
I imagine this is what we looked like.
For some reason there was a lot of Halloween candy lying around, as if that was what they were serving at the reception later. (It was, after all, a 16-year-old's wedding.)
A few minutes after making this observation, I saw my ex in his tux, getting ready for the ceremony, and I decided we were leaving. My brother and I gathered up all of the candy that we could carry, I believe I shouted a few offensive things in the general direction of the sanctuary, and we left the church before I ever had a chance to find out who the bride was.
It would've been a dramatic exit if I had been able to find my car in the parking lot. However, my brother disappeared when we got outside and I was left alone in the cold for hours, baffled over where my car could be, my hands full of candy, until the wedding was over and everyone came outside to find me still there.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Rain After a Drought
Guess what? I dropped out of college and got a cat.
And I started remembering my dreams again.
Huzzah.
I've had a series of four dreams that I have remembered since returning home, each increasingly disturbing. The first took place at my old high school.
At my high school, the funding for a band director had been cut and so my arch-enemy, Mr. G, was fired from his position and they selected my almost-tone-deaf librarian mother to take over his job.
However, knowing only what she has learned second-hand from me about music, (which consists mostly of me complaining about other musicians) my mom was in need of some outside help. Thus, three young women were selected by some unknown high power to assist her - myself, my good friend Jami, (not to be confused with Jaimie) and the assistant drum major from the CMU Marching Band, Julie.
Out of the four of us, I was under the impression that Julie or I were the most qualified to run the marching band, as I had been the drum major in high school and she was a drum major in college. However, Julie was given the top music group, Jami was assigned to the marching band, and I was stuck with the freshman group, also known as "Kadet Band." Yes, "kadet" with a "k."
I freaked out and started screaming my face off at my mom, yelling about how unfair it was that I was stuck with the shit band when I obviously deserved the marching band, it meant so much more to me than it did to Jami, I was more experienced, I'd marching in a college band and she hadn't, a was a far better musician, etc. etc.
This went on for a while until I finally decided that if I couldn't direct the marching band, I wasn't going to direct any band at all. So I stormed out of the school.
I woke up angry and frustrated, which is how I feel most of the time now, and the dreams just get stranger from here.
Everyone's favorite college drop-out, signing off.
And I started remembering my dreams again.
Huzzah.
I've had a series of four dreams that I have remembered since returning home, each increasingly disturbing. The first took place at my old high school.
At my high school, the funding for a band director had been cut and so my arch-enemy, Mr. G, was fired from his position and they selected my almost-tone-deaf librarian mother to take over his job.
However, knowing only what she has learned second-hand from me about music, (which consists mostly of me complaining about other musicians) my mom was in need of some outside help. Thus, three young women were selected by some unknown high power to assist her - myself, my good friend Jami, (not to be confused with Jaimie) and the assistant drum major from the CMU Marching Band, Julie.
Out of the four of us, I was under the impression that Julie or I were the most qualified to run the marching band, as I had been the drum major in high school and she was a drum major in college. However, Julie was given the top music group, Jami was assigned to the marching band, and I was stuck with the freshman group, also known as "Kadet Band." Yes, "kadet" with a "k."
I freaked out and started screaming my face off at my mom, yelling about how unfair it was that I was stuck with the shit band when I obviously deserved the marching band, it meant so much more to me than it did to Jami, I was more experienced, I'd marching in a college band and she hadn't, a was a far better musician, etc. etc.
This went on for a while until I finally decided that if I couldn't direct the marching band, I wasn't going to direct any band at all. So I stormed out of the school.
I woke up angry and frustrated, which is how I feel most of the time now, and the dreams just get stranger from here.
Everyone's favorite college drop-out, signing off.
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