Sort of intrigued by the prospect of lucid dreaming. I usually don’t dream and when I do they tend to suck, so it would cool to be able to control what goes on in my head. To that end, I’ve been reading up on how to lucid dream, and one of the things they’ve suggested is writing down whatever your dreams were when you wake up. These are the three I had last night. I woke up in between each, but they all sort of existed in the same universe, or were vaguely related to each other. I guess trigger warning for violence and also gross things?
- There was some sort of war or something or conflict and everybody had guns. I’m not sure who or what or why we were fighting, but it was all people I know, and I think we were on the same side. I shot two people who were on my side, killing one and wounding/maiming the other. They were just people I know and have seen around / friends of friends, and I don’t know why that happened, but I went on a rant about the ties between poverty and violence or something. I went into a McDonald’s at a combination airport/Wal-Mart and went to wash my face and hands. I threw my shoes into the garbage on my way there, and when I got to the men’s room it was being mopped by a janitor. I went to the women’s room, and it was being mopped as well. I walked back to the men’s room, apologized to the janitor for walking on the newly cleaned floor and leaving foot prints, and began to wash my face and hands while panicking about what I had done. As I run my hands through my hair (which was much thicker than it is in reality), I found a humongous zit or abcess or cyst or something on the top of my head, and was surprised and grossed out. One of my friends called me to come out of the bathroom to see what had happened to another friend/comrade (remember: we’re at war) of ours. It was one of the people I had shot, and he was no longer able to speak. He had significant scarring on his face and neck. I think he was just looking at me disinterestedly, but I swore he knew that I did it to him.
I went back into the bathroom and vomited.
(Wake up panicking, go back to sleep, assured that I have not killed anybody and do not, in fact, have some crazy bloodlust)
- I decide to tackle that monstrosity of a zit/whatever on the top of my head. I go into my bathroom from the house in which I grew up and start applying pressure to pop it. It bulges, swells, enlarges; I’m forcing something huge out of the top of my head. I use all of my strength to pop the bastard, and it immediately explodes all over the mirror and starts running like a river over my face. I can’t open my eyes, I can’t stop it from getting in my mouth, and the entire roll of toilet paper I have at my disposal does nothing to stop it. I yell for help, and someone brings me a towel. I wipe my face off, only for it to be covered again. I put the towel on top of my head and apply pressure, but it’s all pretty much done anyway. I stare at my gross, pus-covered face in the mirror and ask, “How did it get like this? Why didn’t I know that was there? What the fuck?”
(Wake up panicking, go back to sleep after running my fingers through my hair and touching all of my head multiple times to make sure there are no crazy monster sebaceous cysts or anything on my head or face)
- I am hanging out with RuPaul, an olympic runner, and a few other minor celebrities who I can’t remember. We are outside of The Chance after the gig I played there, smoking cigarettes and chatting. We’re having a great time and get along well. A friend of mine approaches and I begin to make introductions. I begin to panic, because I can’t remember the name of the olympic runner. I try to get away with this by only introducing my friend, expecting the runner to say his own name. He doesn’t, so I have to say it. I call him Usain Bolt, knowing damn well that I’m wrong. He is livid. RuPaul and the rest of the celebrities think I am an awful person. My friend understands, though, and doesn’t think it was a big deal—just something for which I will have to apologize. So the next day, I go to the gym where the olympic runner is working out, leading a Crossfit class. At one point where all of this students are busy working out and he isn’t talking to them, I go to apologize to him, letting him know how sorry I am and how embarrassed I am and how bad I feel about forgetting his name. He looks at me weirdly and says “that’s fine….but you don’t need to be so weird about it. i’m kinda busy now though, you should go.” I take the hint and leave, utterly dejected and humiliated.
I wake up, shower, and am grateful that the world isn’t as weird as my dreams.
☁all my life i want bunnies n flowers☁respect my mind or die from sunshine☁