This was off of Facebook. It’s been a while since these concepts came up. I have not waxed poetic about it recently; hell, I never waxed poetic about it in the first place. I am not an elegant man. More along the lines of rant wildly, I think, would be best describing it. I have railed on high heels in the past, I believe, but this shit is quite similar to that. Reminds me a tad of foot-binding, except that’s now out of style. It’s as if a designer-y famous dude that sets fashion trends and whatnot lost a limb, and now it is “chic” and “hip” and “off the hook chain”, whatever such terms they use for such trends. “Oh, four limbs. How gauche. Don’t you know that stumps are all the rage these days?”

Stumping fools.

On other topics, I am done with my first essay of the semester. It was a glorious crashing defeat; three pages, and I could not fill the damn space because I could not milk any more information from the four songs to relate to my identity markers. I also couldn’t figure out how to do a conclusion; I barely bullshitted out an intro. The citing was a terrible thing to do as well; usually I am done with that before end times, but I have no idea how to cite a song, or what to cite on this paper in the first place. I’m not even sure if I cited correctly this time, so I suppose I’ll figure out when I get a note saying “you did not cite your sources properly, this is plagiarism, go to the cheating office and be damned.” And now the rest of the weekend is me playing catch up to the slides I’ve neglected because of the paper. I am a terrible student.

Right, I’m feeling lazy, so I’ll end on that.

Listening to: Serge Desaunay – La Valse des Niglos.

I got opinions and I am not afraid to voice them.

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

First there was a lady in a denim dress, sitting on a metal bench with a back located in an open air sitting area that was supposed to be concrete-floored, but was overgrown with green grasses, just all hell of wild looking. She had some rather heavy makeup on, I think. My mind flashed to a magazine article on the lady, detailing that she was an architect of some renown, having designed the big Doe Library in UC Berkeley among other things. She was also an obese lesbian, and got chased out of her home country of Britain for that because apparently they were not too tolerant of these things in my dream. She actually wasn’t very obese when I saw her in the dream though, perhaps only slightly overweight, and her image would only get less portly as the dream went on.

Next, my mind switched to an article on her assistant, a man afflicted by dwarfism. The article had a pretty big picture of him taking up about half of the right page in the top right corner. He actually looked a lot like Rusty Goffe (in the dream, I was like “that dude is just hell of familiar for some reason”) in a brown trench coat (that fit him of course, the coat was not dragging on the floor). He was balding as he is in the picture, except he had some wisps of grey frizzy-frazzy hair that stuck up vertically at the sides. The article noted that he spoke the “Dunn language” and that was why he was valuable to the architect lady, that when he was asked to speak for her it was often to argue for her in this language. Odd thing, in the dream I thought the Dunn language was somehow related to Irish and Welsh and all those crazy Gaelic languages, but I didn’t think it existed in the real world. Apparently though, the Dunn language exists as some sort of East Coast hip hop slang. Weird stuff what comes up in a dream that correlates to the real. When I was done reading through his article, his picture had changed though, his hair did not have the wisps sticking up anymore, instead he had long, smooth, grey hair that somehow stood up and outwards.  The hair stopped a bit lower at mid-ear and made his head look like a huge up arrow. The middle of his head was still bald though. Ultimately though, the assistant does not play a part in the rest of the dream, he just shows up in the amusing aside.

My mind returned to the sitting area. Next to the sitting area was a crevasse about one and a half humans tall with a river at the bottom of it (ie not a very dreadful fall), and other other side of the river was a man with grey hair and glasses. He is probably the most nondescript character in the dream; I got the feeling from him though that he was also an architect for some reason. He is also the only static character in the dream of any major role. There was also a treant near the man. The treant starts out as a female, but throughout the dream, changes into a male. The treant had a variety of powers, like disappearing into the ground to reappear in another position, and being able to phase into trees and come out of another. If the treant possessed another tree, that tree could move around its various features, though it  could not unroot itself and move around. Also, something about the treant just said to me that it, too, was an architect. Something about architects this dream, eh?

Somehow, and for some reason, the man had pissed off the treant, and the treant was now bothering the man. The man was trying to get away, but the treant followed him, one slow, creaking step at a time. He was faster though, and got to the river first, which he crossed with magical means. He was on the other side, sure that he had gotten away from the treant when he heard a creaking noise behind him, and he was stunned that somehow the treant had closed the distance and crossed the river faster than him (obviously, through the phasing through the ground thing). He walked into the sitting area, and then past it into the woods beyond, which was a stupid idea, but I guess he did not know of the treant’s powers. The treant was phasing from tree to tree with varying amounts of creaking and basically getting all up in the man’s business. She would possess one tree that looked like it had a face on the trunk, look like she was trying hold back her laughter, then possess another tree behind the man that had a rather ugly looking “face” and laugh while the man investigated the other tree. Finally, the man got so pissed off that he pulled an axe out of nowhere and started to try and cut down one of the trees. The treant was really pissed off that the man would try to despoil nature and hurt a tree and such that she somehow was able to take the axe from the man and chop into his leg. He fainted from this or something, as he fell over and was out of commission for a while. Meanwhile, the lady architect had caught up to them, and saw this happening, and pulled out her wand and started firing spells at the treant, who was now fleeing.

After a short muddled portion of the dream, the man had recovered from his wounds and had joined up with the lady architect, who had just disarmed the treant of her wand with a spell. The wand was appropriately sized for a treant, being a huge, light brown tree branch, and it gave the treant her powers, and without it, the treant was trapped because her gait was too slow. Here is where I feel the treant is no longer a female, but a male. Both the man and lady architect took out their wands while the treant was backing away, and then just started walking forward while blasting spells into the treant until it fell over dead. It is pretty much how I imagine a gangland execution sort of killing to be, the victim all backed up into a dead end alley while the gangsters shoot him up with bullets, all with their gangster grip, holding the gun sideways, except done with wands discharging painful magic energies. Pretty much that killing was just hell of cold.

So, in the real world, school has started up, yet again. I’ve compressed my schedule into three days of the entire week, so I get Mondays and Fridays off. This is the good news. The bad news is that my days are long, and have long periods in which I am stuck on campus with no class. I need to get my lunch plans in order, or learn about hunger firsthand and what it means to me. It is also quite annoying to get home at 7 at night with a greater frequency than just during midterms and such.

I got complimented on my hair. It was pretty random; I don’t think any stranger has ever done that before. I was getting a sandwich for lunch when the cashier complimented me on my hair and asked me how long it took me to grow it out. The cashier also happened to be a male. I am really unsure of how to take it. Oh world, you confusing ass bitch. I also confused a dude in the bathroom in the same week. I was washing my hands when I saw him open the door to the bathroom in the mirror. He actually had to duck out for a second to check the signage before entering the bathroom. It has been quite a while since I’ve gotten such a…large response; for that matter, receiving any sort of small confusion.

There hasn’t been much more to report of school and life and the such, I don’t think. Now onto work that I have procrastinated so hard on, even on the first week of school. *sigh*

Listening to: Daisuke Kawai – West 132st. I don’t know whether to interpret that as West 132 St. or as a failed ordinal “132st.”

paying attention does you good

The first bit I remember involves a knife fight. Some rather mafia-looking folk had come over to our house earlier for some reason, and apparently my dad had gotten onto the wrong side of them. I had come into the possession of two rather strange looking bows, arrows for the bows (bows are simply not as effective in melee, have you ever noticed?), and a keen knife. Along the way, a skilled archer lady and a dude in white suit who seemed like he could kick ass had come over to the house as well. I guess they were busy or something in the bathroom though, because when the mafia folk came back to cut my dad a new one, I ended up doing all the fighting. I brought a bow and a knife to fight, but the bow had broken at the last second, and in a strange way indeed, appropriate for strange looking bows. There was a bit of elastic string in the location of the grip that broke, and apparently this was integral to the proper function of the bow because instead of shooting the bastards down at range like a logical person would do, I tossed the bow aside in favor of engaging them with my knife. Thankfully, they didn’t have any guns. Crappily, they had knives too, and were skilled with them apparently. Their blades were shaped like a larger chisel, the sort shaped a like a large rectangle at the working end. I froze up when I got close and was unable to strike them before they got out their knives and tried to gut me to hell. I somehow was able to grab the knife by the blade without injury and hold it back, but was unable to wrest it out of the man’s hand. All the while I was calling for help from in the house, but no one came. Another assailant tried to cut my mouth with his blade by shoving it in my mouth, but I was able to bite down on the blade and keep it from going any further (once again) without injury, but (once again) I was unable disarm the thug. While all this was going on I was able to strike back effectively and cut off a man’s arm with several strokes of my blade. Not a single clean chopping off of a limb, mind you, but several strokes severing the flesh of the arm around the bone, which then broke off much too easily to be real, and without cause that I can remember. Then I forget what happens as I move on in my dream to the next scene, which is filled with more gore than this one.

My next dream involved some sort of gladiator fight involving folks dressed in a simplified Qing Dynasty official’s uniform. I appear to have been able to cut my enemy down quite well, having cut off all four of his limbs with a nasty huge sword. Most memorable were his legs, cut off midthigh, with his right leg cut off closer to the hip than his left. Furthermore, with the way I cut him, I somehow exposed all the bone left of his legs. Here, I demonstrate crappy anatomy again, because his bones had “internal bones” as supporting structures instead of the anatomically correct spongy bone and marrow. These “internal bones” were like thinner versions of the real bone outside, rod shaped. The remnants of his right leg was so damaged that these internal bones fell out of the stump leftover and were thrown into a pile of his other body parts that I cut off. Somehow, a doctor came over that was able to save his life by tying fibers to the bone remnants of his legs and some other magical means (it must have been, no one should survive that crap that I did to him, good anatomy or not), and moments later he looked as good as new. However, he did not feel as good as new, because somehow my dream presence was transferred into him, and I became him, complete with feeling like crap because my body had just had all four limbs chopped off and then rejoined through dubious and unexplained means. There seemed to be a recurring pain deep in my right leg that got chopped near to nonexistence. And then after the body got fixed up, we had to rush out of the building for some reason, I think it was to fight a vague enemy, but I somehow got assigned the task of taking out the trash to the curb with several other dudes.

My last dream has me using magic! I don’t remember ever getting to use magic in my dreams in the past, at least not the sort of magic to blast other people into oblivion. Sadly, my magic in this dream was rather…ineffectual. It was a Harry Potter dream too, which is also a first. We were going to go kill Voldemort, or at least cause him magically perpetrated harm of some sort. We had to ascend an old-style tower with a spiral staircase, which had an entryway that was smaller than we could fit in, so I used my magic to make it larger. On the ground floor, there was a door that had to be opened through the use of Parseltongue under normal circumstances, but before Harry could bust out his foreign language degree in talking to snakes, I just shouted out “OPEN FUCKING SESAME, OPEN THE FUCK UP” and it opened up for me. Then there was a puzzle in the wall that had to be solved first before we could ascend the staircase. Harry was pretty useless in my dream, not only did he not help me solve the puzzle, but it was in chalk, and he fucked the drawing up with his magic trying to reset it after my failed attempt. I tried fixing it, but none of the incantations I could think of would work (“Reset”, “Reset Voldemort Level”, “Refresh”, etc.). I guess Voldemort got bored of waiting, since he came downstairs to start the fight up early, and we chased him up the stairs. He narrowly hit me with 2 cannonballs conjured from his wand, but somehow I came into possession of two wands(and one of them was the Elder Wand, or a replica of it, since Voldemort appeared to have one as well). I used both in unison to fire off a fire beam and an ice beam, but it did no damage. Meanwhile Harry was being useless and somehow had a shotgun with a claw-like structure at the business end of the gun, and was trying to shoot Voldemort with it, which was pretty ineffective as well. Meanwhile, Voldemort cast an insect swarm on me. I countered it by casting some electricty to swirl around me, frying the bugs, and then I tried to run up to Voldemort to fry him with my electric storm. My dream ended there because I woke up, sadly, although I’m sure it would have been just as ineffectual as any of the other spells I cast on him. It would probably be more effective if I had just shot him with electricity instead of trying to hug him anyways.

School’s about to start up. Perhaps its for the best, since nearly everyone’s gone, and I’ve been pretty much doing nothing for the past week or so, but school’s still got the distastefulness about it, I suppose. Alright, being lazy right now and watching Whose Line on Youtube. Good night.

Listening to: Akimasa Yamada (prismedia) – Lotus in dam, from the Gran Turismo 5 game rip. It’s pretty huge, but it’s got overlap with the official stuff. Now what to do with both of them…

crusty folks

Now, I said I was taking a second physics final in this dream. Except, instead of the questions being about physics, they seemed to be questions on material from some biology class that I had taken before. Also, instead of taking the test, I did not take the test. In my stupid dream logic, apparently I figured that since this was material from a class that I had already passed, I didn’t need to do this test. But instead of leaving the room as you should when you are done with a test, I just sat there like an idiot, until some time passed and I realized with much more logical logic that I would do terribly in the physics class if I did not do this test, since the test score was not for the class I passed already, but for the physics class that I was still working on. Then I began to panic upon this realization, but I was too bashful to go up and ask for a copy of the test, having passed so much time already since the start of the test. I also started damning myself  I woke up around that time, going “oh fuck my physics grade is so screwed” before realizing that I had returned to the real world, where my grade was already set, and no such test existed in the first place. I can only hope that this stupid logic never comes up in the real world when the shit actually matters.

This dream actually reminds of a dream I had a bit before finals. I don’t remember much about that dream except the whole thing revolved around me being late to a final. That was a basic fear for me throughout the whole of finals week, that I had gotten the time for the test wrong and my grade would be dashed to shit regardless of prior performance.

That night I also had a more complex dream that I don’t remember at all. I feel it revolved around thievery again, and a posh hotel on which to perform said acts of thievery upon. Thieving seems to be a thing for my dreams as of recent; I’ve had two such dreams temporally close when prior to this I’ve never had any that I’ve remembered. I haven’t stolen anything in recent days though, not to my memory at least…

So, Christmas time has come and passed. I could’ve gone for better company around me, but at least the food was good. It had been a long while since I had some 斋 (Buddha’s delight? I’ve never heard of it refered to as such, though that must bec because I’m Chinese, and we have a language that works), and I’ve been thinking about it since Richard mentioned to me that he was going to a temple (they serve this stuff at temples, or at least, at the ones I remember having been to). They had a huge variety of meats that I enjoyed quite thoroughly, but I feel that the 斋 was a major highlight of the night, just quite good. Beyond the food, I spent most of the night sitting in my corner playing DS and listening to music, and helping troubleshoot my cousin’s laptop to show off the pictures from my parents trip to China. That shitty laptop broke down every time you ended a slideshow or played a video with Windows Media Player, and it took me forever to find a media player that had a playlist and could play videos. I ended up with a 12 count box of Ferrero Rocher though. That stuff is the best, I’ve already cleared out 3 golden balls of awesomeness.

And that’s Christmas. One more week until nearly everyone leaves…

Listening to: Yuki Oike – Passion, from Gran Turismo 5 OGS.

get boy, get

I had another dream a couple of days earlier, involving me riding a red unicycle with a couple other folks in my dream whose faces I don’t remember. We were riding through a big city that had a somewhat long, winding tunnel through it (which of course we rode through, why else would I mention it or even remember it). At first I think I had trouble with the unicycle but after a short while I was riding like a pro, and it felt as if I were as free as I felt in the roller skates dream. The unicycle felt like it controlled like a bike (makes no sense, no steering mechanism, not even sure how unicyclists make turns). Our ride took us to these bogs where apparently fights were taking place or something. I remember being bare feet and sort of floating in the boggy water, not wanting to touch bottom because of the nastiness I perceived that the bog bottom would be resident to, so I tried getting on my knees on the bog instead. I also remember somewhere in that dream Jeremy Hosmer (coincidentally rides a unicycle+random face in the dream as well).

So today, we went to San Tung. Kery couldn’t make it sadly, but the food was just as good, quite enjoyable. I guess going there on a Thanksgiving day messed with my expectations though, since the place was positively packed when we got there today, with an interesting waiting list wherein we wrote a name down on a whiteboard and waited to be called. In fact, the whole neighborhood was much more lively, with people walking around, unlike Thanksgiving, which makes sense, since most folk are with their family that day. Still, totally discolored perceptions as I thought it wouldn’t be that crowded. However, we lucked out, and we got seated in their “party room”, a room in the back that fit one large table. Not very impressive, but restaurant was small and crowded, and the privacy was pretty awesome (and I’m sure Elvin liked that plug in the room as well for his newfangled smartphone).

Break is coming to an end for most of my friends; they only have a week left around here sadly.  I guess that means I’ve got plenty of time to get some sort of work done…I am not looking forward to the next semester, ochem lab can only be disastrous. I do hate melting points evaluation and NMR and recrystallization and all that crap, all of which will probably be there to slap me in the face again. At least I’ve been able to squeeze it into 3 days, I suppose.

Ok, I think I’ve fucked up my sleep schedule enough tonight, I collapsed around 8 or 9, dreamt, then awoke feeling the burning desire to blog about that dream, and so I did. And now we are here at 2; damn. So perhaps a bit of Dead Rising 2, and then bedtime (yeah, I’m just terrible).

Listening to: Hideyuki Fukasawa – Theme of Vega -SF IV Arrange-. Vega being the dictator.

southern accent man vs COMMODORES OF THE FREE AIR

The semester has been hellish. This is the most units I’ve ever taken at Berkeley, 16. Yes, I know, it is but a pittance to many of my peers’ 20 and ups, but I suck and I don’t have that crazy good work ethic that they do. I can only hope I’ve done well-ish. Ultimately, I think the big thing that screwed me over this semester was that huge paper I had to do for evolution. While it was just only one paper and I have had more in past times when I took history classes and the such, I remember for those papers in the past, our reading material was given to us and we had to use that to write with. This paper involved researching crap on databases, and by god do I suck at that. Also, these readings don’t have sparknotes on them, unlike some of the history readings. Yes, yes, I am just a horrendous student. But this evolution paper pretty much pushed me off schedule for the work for all my other classes because I was just procrastinating so very hard to avoid that piece of crap as well. I spent dead week instead of reviewing the past month of ochem material trying to absorb it in the first time. This is not a good idea at all.

Today I’ve just finished my last final. It is a wondrous feeling, now that it is all over, and I am free…for now. It is an odd feeling though, no pressing school work to be done, no ochem lectures to watch, no readings to read….no doubt I’ll adjust well and fill up my hours with worthless crap to be done though, eh?

My dreams, they come every so often and such. Obviously, wit h 4 or so months behind me, I won’t remember much if any at all of my crazy dream adventures. My most recent one of note involved me driving some sort of speedboat/water ski thing, when my dream son chases after me on his own watercraft, worried for my safety because there was apparently a war going on or something. He jumps off and I  run over/through him and he is rather dead while I am in profound sadness and regret, yelling to the sky that I had “quantum raped Sandra” or something because of this (I think Sandra was the wife I had in the dream). That was only part of a much more complicated dream, I think, though obviously I don’t remember.

Another dream I had involved me in some sort of hospital with my cousin Kery, and I was roller skating quite skillfully around a hallway that took a rectangular path. I was able skate backwards and circle around and be generally awesome on skates. It felt quite real in the dream, and I could feel myself moving through the air swiftly, and it was a glorious dream, almost lucid in nature, even. More of these sorts of dreams would be a very enjoyable thing, I believe. The second part of that night’s dream however balanced it out a bit by adding the necessary violence to my dreams to make it more like my dreams by having me jump out the window of a big black dude’s third floor bedroom to land on his back lawn, having stolen some of his stuff for some reason. He sent his personal bodyguard army after me while my crew down in his back yard set up these 2 time travel devices to travel forward in time (we were from the future, apparently). These two devices were set up several feet away from each other in the ground and sent an oscillating bluish beam of “time energy” (I guess) that we had to be in contact with for a while to time travel. While they were setting this up I had this crazy “super-tazer” that I was using against the bodyguards that shot out a veritable bolt of lightning instead of just giving a mild-ish shock. I barely got back in time to the time beam and was transported into the future, wherein we found ourselves in an altered timeline where the “church” was in power instead of us “mages” and we were surrounded by hostile motherfuckers. We decided to take flight out of the city we landed in by flapping our arms to fly, and we went out into the surrounding forest, which was populated by mages that had gone feral. (Yes, feral.)

An aside on my dreams, when I fly, I tend to be able to fly quite well by flapping my arms. It is always my arms, I do not grow wings, I don’t just fly by magical crazy energy propulsion of some sort, I always flap my arms, slowly, gracefully, and the like. I also enjoy these dreams as well, self-propelled flight, one way or another, has always been considered awesome and something that would be glorious to have in real life. Wings are really good too, but any sort of flight would be pretty awesome, for the most part.

The last dream I remember, from a long while ago, involved Bank of America taking over the world, me trying to brush my teeth while having a mouth full of rice, and me trying to break the jaw off of one of Bank of America’s fat “enforcer” sort dudes, by holding his face down and trying to stomp off his jaw. That dream ended with Sophia protesting against Bank of America and of their enforcers, who had long hair, doing a kicking motion in her general direction, which caused a “paint bomb” to go off in her vicinity, which killed her and discolored the skin of those around her into a mosaic of shitty looking colors, ergo, “paint bomb”. (Yeah, sorry, Sophia, really bad luck for you that your only appearance in any of my dreams to memory involved you dying. I wonder if you even still keep track of this crap?)

Typing is a bitch now. That over half-inch long pinky nail is messing up my a’s and capitals. But I have to say, I think it’s the longest nail I’ve ever had. It seems with more time my nails are left to grow out, they seem to get longer and longer before they break. Such glorious nails….I do love them so. Except for the bad typing thing, but I can get used to it.

Well, that’s all that’s been on my mind for now, I think. Hopefully, the next time I write won’t be 4 months from now, or longer than that.

Listening to: Keita Egusa – Power of Anger ~ Poison of Snake, from the game Salamander, from the album PiA-COM I, a collection of game music played by solo piano, I guess. I really do like these albums, really good piano work.

connect the dots bitches

I don’t remember much of the beginning, but where I do begin to remember, it was next to a wooden shack. Some overseer sorts that kept slaves in line had dug a hole in the ground for sticking a post of some sort in it, then some free folk against slavery widened it and were able to catch an overseer in it, a la pitfall trap. Then somehow they turned everything in the hole, including the overseer, into “sticky stew” or something like that, left a huge spoon in the shed, and capped off the hole with a huge pot lid. The dead overseer’s partner-type dude came back; he was a rednecky yokely sort of dude wearing a red plaid shirt and had a rather rough unshaven face. He removed the pot lid to see the food mix in there and was absolutely delighted. He saw the spoon in the shed, and immediately started chowing down. He even saw the head of his former buddy in there, but he seemed absolutely fine with it. He even started chewing on a bone contentedly. Only later in a flashback would I learn that this behavior was not only fine by him, but condoned.

Later on in the dream, another overseer appeared, he looked like the Heavy from Team Fortress 2. This overseer was regretful of his actions and wished to do something to free us or some crap. He was armed with a small axe. He related to me in flashback the nature of the redneck dude as a cannibal, having eaten an older partner “Harry” in similar fashion in front of the Heavy and the other dude that the redneck just ate, all the while joking around about how sorry it was that Harry couldn’t experience this with them. He then threatened the other two that if they ever betrayed him in anyway, they’d get eaten by him.

I led the big overseer to talk with the “matriarch”, which was like a grandmotherly sort of person (man, just like slave society, wherein the females usually turn out to be head of families and crap. Thank Richard for bringing slave culture back into my head from my history classes). Before I could reach her though, the rest of the family members saw the overseer and started to hit him. I ran around yelling “HOLD!” to try and stop them, which took a couple minutes, before they realized he wasn’t fighting back and something was up. I was able to grant him an audience with the matriarch, and so they sat in the yard talking, while the whole family gathered up in the kitchen. They were wondering what was going on, and I whispered “revolution…”. Just then, I felt something would go wrong. The big dude had set his axe down beside him on the bench and was engagedly talking to the matriarch when I noticed the axe was stolen away by a hand. I realized that other overseers had somehow caught wind of it, and was about to kill the matriarch with the axe and frame the big guy for her death. I ran out to try and stop it….and nothing happened. I then realized that was a ploy to get me out of the kitchen, as the overseers descended on my relatives and began to slaughter them instead. I had realized incorrectly. Just then, an overseer ran out of the kitchen to attempt to kill me with his axe. I ran back, through the yard, into another room, and barely closed the door in time. For some reason, the overseen hesitated to take off his shoes before he tried to enter the room, which was carpeted. This was the reason why I was able to close the door in time. Really courteous of him though, apart from the attempting to kill me thing. He somehow broke through the door, and had a towel in his other hand, for trying to ensnare me or something, I guess. I tried to use a fly swatter to poke him in the eye and stop him from attacking, but the fear of losing an arm to the axe was prevent me from thrusting the fly swatter well. I ultimately was able to force myself out of the dream before he did any bodily harm to me.

Also, somewhere in the middle of the dream, I had my usual ability to float upwards by seemingly swimming upwards through the air as if it were water, and was able to get up on top of a roof for reasons unknown. Best part of the dream, that floating sensation is always fun.

Listening to: Daishi Dance – 千と千尋の神隠し: いつも何度でも feat. Chieko Kinbara. I don’t know, I don’t read Japanese.

turd expedition

I think the most vivid one I had involved me riding a bike. It is not vivid because of the detailedness of the dream, I think, but the fact that I half-woke up feeling the pain I was feeling in that dream, or so it felt at the time. I was riding my bike in some odd empty factory/maze with huge walls of rusty iron, and me being lost in it. Somehow I may have asked a dude in the maze how to get out, or maybe I didn’t but ultimately, I found my way out of the maze into some sort of giant’s grill (it had to have been a giant’s, I was riding my bike on it, and I am human sized last I checked). The grill was working and there was a dude cooking up some huge hunks of meat, with hunks of meat hanging on the wall. It probably smelled really good, but my feet felt like they were on fire, so I hurried down the grill, the long way down perpendicular to the bars of the grill, instead of just riding off of it. At the end of the grill however was a huge, black, infinite looking hole that looked to send me back into the maze somehow, so I turned left, and kept on riding somehow. I really don’t know how I was able to continue riding, considering a grill is like a bunch of parallel metal bars, and turning left would mean my wheels would fall between the gap, but ultimately I was able to ride off. I half-awoke from this dream with my feet feeling like they were really on fire in real life, before I came to realize it was a dream.

I had another dream involving a joyride of sorts in my mom’s car in Hayward with Richard and another dude I could not identify at the wheels. This dude was breaking laws and shit apparently, because we had the vague sense of the cops after us, but they never really appeared in the dream. Also, my mom, her sister, and a friend of hers was in the car as well. We dropped off my aunt quickly at her place and then decided to go back San Leandro because of the cops that we did not want to run into. We were driving down Jackson St. when my mom’s friend she had some grocery shopping or something to do in the shopping congregation nearby the freeway entrance, so we obliged her for some reason despite the apparent running away from the police we were undergoing. All the while we were wondering where to eat as well; sushi was suggested, but then Richard said we didn’t have the 11 something dollars needed for lunch. We also realized after shopping we’d have to drop off my mum’s friend, who lived near my aunt’s, where there were cops looking for us, and we knew that they’d pull over a bronze Camry because that was the car we were breaking laws in (hitting other people’s cars, driving on wrong side of road, etc). That is as far as I remember of that dream, except maybe a small part where I was driving the car terribly (that is all I remember of driving: the adjective “terrible”).

There was also a vague section of my dream dedicated to a “dude of the future” who had innards supported by short lengths of drinking straws (apparently they have structural strength, you can thank those bridge building exercises with drinking straws we did in middle school) and cockroaches (they are immune to nuclear radiation or some crap?). It was weird, probably part of a bigger dream that I don’t remember any of.

Recently, I’ve been going to sleep at 6 or so in the morning and waking at 5 or so in the afternoon. I have two tests in the upcoming week…better change that, eh? Studying has also been shit with the coming of Starcraft II…I’ve played through the whole campaign already, which is much quicker than I’ve done for a lot of other games, I think.

Listening to: Bach – Allegro. I don’t know, this is from Civilization IV’s soundtrack folder.

i am just not present

The basic milieu of the dream was that a childhood friend of some sort of my mum, an older, bald male, had taken over my house and subjugated my family to be slaves of some sort to him. I wasn’t sure of the position we had though, since I stilled lived in my own room, and somehow I had two laptops in there, but then again, I wasn’t allowed to use the laptops for fear of seeking aid/spending too much time of it, that sort of thing. I did sneak it in from time to time though, without him noticing in general (and hell rained down on everyone if I did get caught). The old man, from here on referred to as “Asshole” because he may have been a fictional conjuration of my mind in the dream, often had family over, and we were supposed to do shit for them. While I did not get a very good look at the face of Asshole, I did get a good look at a younger relative of his, a girl around 15 with a haircut similar to mine (neck length hair) and somewhat spotty face (perhaps it is like my female twin or something). And upon that face, I remember swearing a vengeance…

I remember Asshole threatening my family arbitrarily with guns at least once, if not more, threatening to kill one of us. This time, he was threatening us with a rifle/shotgun sort of a gun, with a long gun barrel with two holes at the end (you can tell I am not a gun person). This time we begged for him not to kill one of us, and offered me up for hard labor at the salt mines. The salt mines didn’t make much sense in my dreams; instead of large flats with deposits of salt at the top, they were deep holes, filled with salt, and I would have to dig in one of these holes to get salt. Asshole laughed, saying that back breaking labor would probably kill me, but put down his gun and said “ok, sure.” That day was the 17th of some month; he was busy to go somewhere on the 19th, but he was open on the 18th to take me to hell, so he told me to be ready, the salt mines were only an hour away from home.

Asshole left somewhere later that night, leaving the house only occupied by my family. They made a big lavish dinner and sat around our dining table. I saw this, and though they had somehow ousted Asshole from our home, and hugged my mum, thinking I would not have to go to the salt mines. They told me that they had not ousted him though; he had just left for something, and that when the cat’s away, the mice will play. The rejoicing in my face slipped away, as I realized I had not gotten out of my death sentence. I told them they had to take the opportunity to use the phone and call the police, and that this slavery bullshit was wrong, but they were hell of reluctant, because they’re English sucked or something. Just then, I noticed Richard sitting around the table, looking bored, and I dragged him to my room along with the wireless phone to help me in making a call to the police. However, just then, Asshole returned with his family, and I rushed to return the phone to its charging pedestal, imagining Asshole saying “I know where that phone can go, up your asshole!” if he had caught me with it.

I continue to plead with my family to call the police, from my fear of the salt mines, but they refused to. Ultimately, I took matters into my own hands, while Asshole was in the shower (refurbished to look hell of nice, with brownish tiles, a really ornate silvery showerhead, fake plants, etc). I somehow broke into the shower with my dad and had cornered Asshole into the shower somehow. However, Asshole disappeared downwards, because somehow there was a grate in the shower floor. I somehow knew that he was going to try and come up in the living room, where there was a newly installed cabinet/table thing in the middle of the room. The cabinet had some storage space, and a huge hole leading downwards with a ladder built into the side of it. The overt purpose of it was to hold a coffee machine and supplies for it, but clearly Asshole would attempt to surface here. One of Asshole’s family members reached down to open the cabinet for straws or something for his coffee (it was like a Starbucks coffee table thing, I think), and we saw Asshole’s arm start to emerge from the hole, going out of the cabinet. We attempted to shut the door quickly, slamming it into his shoulder. Somehow, his arm was ripped off his torso, and he fell down the hole, screaming, to his death (it sounded pretty far down from the echoing his screaming was making). Of course, now, if we were to call the police, it would look high suspect to have a man’s severed arm in our presence. This is where the dream ends, and I was satisfied to have had violence and liberation in one dream. This dream was probably one of my best, simply because I remembered most of it; as of recent, my dream have been very fleeting and I have not been remembering them, which is a pity.

Listening to: Joe Hisaishi – La Pioggia.

so gitty