So I got three hours of sleep last night, roughly. That sucked. But, on the other hand, my dream was clear as fuck, and I remember a good amount of it.
So the first part of the dream had me in the right rear seat of a four-seater. I was doing an interview of sorts with two people, a middle aged man, and a young asian twenty-something. The middle aged man was standing outside of the right front door, while the asian girl was outside of the left rear door. I remember having done an interview with them before, and I was quite eager to talk with them again, apparently. The last interview we did was apparently focused my baby nephews and nieces (who don’t exist anymore, they are now in elementary, and thus not babies any more. Agewise, at least.) I had not had any interactions with them for a while though, and I told them this, and moved the subject of the interview towards school, which I was having a good time in, according to the dream. Meanwhile, the asian girl got into the left rear seat of the car to continue the interview as the car started up and drove along without a driver that I remember. Then, the girl somehow switched seats in the middle of the ride without getting out of the car, to the front right seat, craning her head to look at me. And all the meanwhile, the man had not gotten into the car, but was keeping up with the car as it drove along the freeway, and yet, he was simply standing outside of the car, as if there was a platform sticking out of the car and he was standing on it. Then somehow, my cousin Mandy came into the car, without it stopping. I asked her if she wanted to eat dinner at my house, and she said that she already was, for that was the plan. The whole thing was short and nonsensical, and more of a blur than anything, which probably accounts for people moving in and out of the car in unrealistic ways.
The second part of the dream I feel is connected to the first, but I can’t reason out a way that is connected. My father was in this dream, except he played my *foster* father, because apparently I was adopted. Some ten or so years ago these two old bastards that had conspired and screwed me over somehow, probably by killing my real parents. One of them was a grey-haired school groundskeeper of some sort, and the other was a slightly portly grey-haired businessman. So now my foster father, from now on referred to as father because I am just that lazy, and I were at some school, digging up some soil in the field behind the school at the boundary between concrete and grass. Apparently this was super special secret soil or something that we had to take away to somehow aid in my vengeance against the two old conniving bastards. There was some odd green powder under the normal soil, perhaps it had something to do with the revenge. We were originally going to take it out in one of those garbage bin you’d put out on the curb, but apparently there was too much material to take away in it, and it was overflowing. Nearby, rather conveniently, was a wheelbarrow, which we decided to dump the soil into, but before we could get around to it, the groundskeeper, the grey old bastard, came around, pushing some sort of cart. He was in a worn grey shirt that looked like a long sleeved polo, with a couple of buttons at the top. He was also wearing a summer straw hat of sorts with a broad, wide brim. I felt the hate rise within me, and wanting instant revenge, despite the fact that I was only armed with a black plastic shovel and a small black comb, I followed him closely, at a distance.
When I got closer to him, I noticed he had a machete, with a black handle, attached to the back brim of the hat. I think I was surprised he did not recognize me at first, but I suppose because of my long hair that I did not have ten years ago must have put him off recognition, so nothing was afoot at first. He met with the businessman in the middle of the field. It was an odd place to meet, especially since the businessman was just looking furtive as hell about the whole affair. The businessman was in a grey, tweedy business suit of sorts. He gave the groundskeeper a gift basket, wrapped in red transparent plastic, and then they went their separate ways without a word. Instead of taking the logical choice and following the businessman to take my revenge though, as he looked unarmed, I followed the definitely armed groundskeeper. All of a sudden, I remembered that I didn’t really have many combat skills, except for a few unarmed close combat techniques. Ten years, and I did not learn anything of use for the upcoming fight. I shouted to my father about this issue, and all he had to say was “oh yeah…didn’t really teach you how to wield a weapon and such…” Apparently the whole issue with this was either that I sucked at fighting, or father sucked at the teaching. I forget which.
Still, apparently I felt able to take him on, and tried striking him with my shovel, whereupon he took to a running. I chased after him, and found another machete with a black handle, lying on the grass in the field. I picked it up, but too pansy to engage him in close combat I tried throwing it at his leg while he was trying to go around a huge tree, but I missed and struck a branch. There, he decided to make his stand, and took his machete from his hat. However, the field seemed to be especially productive, since I randomly found another weapon to take him on with. I found a brown “hunting gun” of sorts, which looked like an old style rifle with a nice huge brown wooden stock to hit people up the head with. It had a distinctive muzzle though; it looked like the unsharpened end of a flat carpenter’s pencil, with the ammo emerging the blackness that would be analogous to the lead of the pencil. The groundskeeper tried to flee in the face of superior firepower, but apparently I had some pretty good aim. I found out that it fired some rather peculiar ammo as well with that shot, as it fired a small brown beanbag which hit the groundskeeper right in the asshole (he had pants on, but where it hit is the location of the asshole. I am sure of this.) This stunned him for a moment, which allowed me to catch up with him. I tried to use the gun stock to him him, but I missed, and it was a slow way to use the gun, so I tried to use the head of the gun to hit his right arm in an attempt to disarm him. This did not work though, but he kept running instead of trying to take advantage of the fact a machete is much better than a gun in close combat. I then shot him in the leg, which stunned him yet again. I then once more tried to disarm him by hitting his right arm.
I suppose the whole thing repeated several times or something, because I found myself in a house with him, and I guess I disarmed him. I shot him a third time, in the chest. This is where I begin to realize that it was probably getting close to wake up time for school, and I suppose I started lucid dreaming or something. The groundskeeper grabbed me from behind to try and take me down, and I started reasoning with myself how to get out of it. I thought to myself “how would I usually get out of this in my daydreams…hmmm…I’d probably use magic and sprout spikes out of my back,” which worked to perfection and killed him in a bloody mess. I then started to think that method of killing was a tad too violent for this dream, but then I started trying to come up with a name for the technique “thousand spikes? million needles? I had come up with something that sounded nice, I don’t think I quite remember it though.) Right then though, I had to wake up for school.
So that was the dream I had for 3 hours of sleep, and now I’m feeling pretty goddamn tired from the lack of sleep. My damned music essay is still not done, and it is only 3 pages long. I’ve only got one page done, and it feels like it will be crap to pull out two more pages from my ass. I’ve still no clue how to write the intro, conclusion, what exactly I’m going to cite, and how to cite it. I hate writing papers.
Listening to: Anton Karas – The Third Man, as performed by the Tokyo Kosei Wind Orchestra.
big burly business
