Well, well, well
I was walking down a long dirt road surrounded by fields and pine trees. I wore a sweatsuit and a backpack and was trying to interpret the large map I was carrying. I walked several mile blocks, unable to find where I was going (though I was never sure where I was actually trying to go).
After a long while, a tractor pulling a hay wagon rode past me. I didn't think to hop on, but luckily Gia Franke (a former college classmate of mine with whom I haven't spoken for years) stopped the driver, hopped down, and, with enthusiasm, convinced me to join her and a dozen others on a ride to some convention center where the president (not the current president, but a president I created in my head) was supposed to speak later that day.
We rode along the road for a while, and I found myself telling life stories to all the other passengers.
At last we arrived at an enormous warehouse. Once inside I saw that a sizable crowd had gathered to hear the president's speech. I wandered off by myself because I was far more interested in exploring the warehouse than in hearing a canned message that I'd probably heard before. I ended up in a back room where the president was being prepped for his talk. I saw a woman run up to him and exclaim that his wife had fallen ill suddenly and was lying down in a nearby room.
I continued to explore the warehouse. I noticed that my left nostril had become irritatingly stuffed up, and I tried, as I walked, to expel the gunk from my nose, but I had no luck.
I finally found a large room in the warehouse in which dozens of brute men were, in an assembly line, unpacking large boxes of cocaine and repackaging the powder into a more manageable size. For some reason, they left the large garage doors of the room open to the outside. It was extremely windy, so cocaine clouds filled the room. I was quickly covered in the stuff. I, for some reason, was hopeful that it would clear my nasal cavity, but even cocaine couldn't help.
I knew that I should probably leave the room before I got in trouble with the brutes or before they all got caught by the plethora of security guards present in the building due to the presidents presence. However, before I left, a particularly muscular man forced me to put on a puffy hooded Miami Hurricanes coat (I had one when I was in lower elementary school) and grab a large black trash bag filled with something I would never see in the dream.
I left in a hurry (well, in as much of a hurry as a heavily coated guy carrying a large trash bag can be), and accidentally ended up in the room in which the First Lady was resting (unconscious). A bunch of the cocaine fell onto her (I had a thick layer on me, and I was constantly creating a cloud wherever I went), and I tried to brush it off, but it only made it worse.
The only thing left for me to do was run. I didn't leave the bag, for several reasons that made sense to me at the time (I didn't know what was in it, I didn't want to further harm the First Lady, I didn't want to leave my fingerprints behind on something that could've been filled with an illegal substance.
I must have been high, because I had no idea of knowing where I was going, or how to guide myself in certain directions. I just sprinted. I, unfortunately, literally ran into the president right as he was walking out to give his speech, knocking him to the floor and covering him in cocaine. Oops.
Then I awoke.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Dream #512 (October 27, 2013) Battle for President
This was strange.
I dreamt that I was at an enormous assembly somewhere in the United States. There were thousands upon thousands of people there for a conference held by the Missionary Church (a rather small denomination, primarily located in the Midwest). In the dream the president of the Missionary Church (very loosely based on the real president, Steve Jones, though in the dream he was tall and buff) was a very corrupt man (not the case in real life) and had used his special spirit to control the spirits and the minds of the Missionary Church congregants. All those subject to Steve's conjuration had black spots in their eyes.
I was at the conference just by chance. I was in town and thought I would talk to a couple friend I knew were there. When I showed up, several middle aged people gathered about me and talked about me as if I were not there. They formed a circle about me and began to sing about me. I finally escaped the circle of praise and asked a hoodie-wearing young man what it was all about, and they told me I was to be the next president of the Missionary Church. I was to be the one to free them of Steve's corruption.
Initially I mocked those who praised me so, claiming that I knew very little of what a president should know. However, they persisted, and eventually pity lead me to accept the calling.
The great session was about to begin, so the large stadium full of people grew quiet as the lights dimmed. I stood in the back as Steve took the stage and shouted his lies from the pulpit. Those who were brain/spiritwashed cheered and applauded at each of Steve's proclamations. Finally, the rebels lifted me up and carried me to the stage.
I stood there, face-to-face with Steve. He laughed at me as some of his servants (they all wore black and had long, black hair) placed a dark red, mechanical armor on his body. They handed him an enormous sword, and he took an offensive stance. A rebel from the crowd tossed up a large medieval axe and I grabbed it and took a swing at Steve.
A battle ensued. I, to my surprise, was very quick and accurate with the axe, and I delivered several strong blows to Steve, though his armor seemed to absorb all the impact. I, armor-less, managed to dodge each of his swings and stabs. I was quite impressive. Finally, I struck Steve on the face, but to my horror, he suffered no wounds.
The battle continued for quite some time, and with each minute I realized more and more that Steve possessed invincibility. As I was about to give up and flee, Steve's right-hand man (a scary-lookin' fella wearing a long black robe and possessing a long, narrow nose) managed to whisper to me from across the room, stating that Steve had a magical orb in a black pouch attached to his belt. I quickly managed to find this orb and cut it loose from Steve's waist.
A beautiful black and white sphere rolled across the ground. I grabbed it just as Steve cut his sword across my stomach. I suffered not a scratch! It was only a matter of seconds before I had slain Steve and he was on the floor, lifeless.
The crowd was immediately freed from the spell, and they cheered and a celebration ensued.
As my first act as president, I gathered up a team of people, including my brother Mike, and prepared them to go to South America to help a few people in need there.
I thought that I had also scheduled a trip to South America just a couple days after my brother's flight, but I discovered that I accidentally committed to serving for three weeks on a submarine. I thought that sounded miserable.
Then I awoke.
I dreamt that I was at an enormous assembly somewhere in the United States. There were thousands upon thousands of people there for a conference held by the Missionary Church (a rather small denomination, primarily located in the Midwest). In the dream the president of the Missionary Church (very loosely based on the real president, Steve Jones, though in the dream he was tall and buff) was a very corrupt man (not the case in real life) and had used his special spirit to control the spirits and the minds of the Missionary Church congregants. All those subject to Steve's conjuration had black spots in their eyes.
I was at the conference just by chance. I was in town and thought I would talk to a couple friend I knew were there. When I showed up, several middle aged people gathered about me and talked about me as if I were not there. They formed a circle about me and began to sing about me. I finally escaped the circle of praise and asked a hoodie-wearing young man what it was all about, and they told me I was to be the next president of the Missionary Church. I was to be the one to free them of Steve's corruption.
Initially I mocked those who praised me so, claiming that I knew very little of what a president should know. However, they persisted, and eventually pity lead me to accept the calling.
The great session was about to begin, so the large stadium full of people grew quiet as the lights dimmed. I stood in the back as Steve took the stage and shouted his lies from the pulpit. Those who were brain/spiritwashed cheered and applauded at each of Steve's proclamations. Finally, the rebels lifted me up and carried me to the stage.
I stood there, face-to-face with Steve. He laughed at me as some of his servants (they all wore black and had long, black hair) placed a dark red, mechanical armor on his body. They handed him an enormous sword, and he took an offensive stance. A rebel from the crowd tossed up a large medieval axe and I grabbed it and took a swing at Steve.
A battle ensued. I, to my surprise, was very quick and accurate with the axe, and I delivered several strong blows to Steve, though his armor seemed to absorb all the impact. I, armor-less, managed to dodge each of his swings and stabs. I was quite impressive. Finally, I struck Steve on the face, but to my horror, he suffered no wounds.
The battle continued for quite some time, and with each minute I realized more and more that Steve possessed invincibility. As I was about to give up and flee, Steve's right-hand man (a scary-lookin' fella wearing a long black robe and possessing a long, narrow nose) managed to whisper to me from across the room, stating that Steve had a magical orb in a black pouch attached to his belt. I quickly managed to find this orb and cut it loose from Steve's waist.
A beautiful black and white sphere rolled across the ground. I grabbed it just as Steve cut his sword across my stomach. I suffered not a scratch! It was only a matter of seconds before I had slain Steve and he was on the floor, lifeless.
The crowd was immediately freed from the spell, and they cheered and a celebration ensued.
As my first act as president, I gathered up a team of people, including my brother Mike, and prepared them to go to South America to help a few people in need there.
I thought that I had also scheduled a trip to South America just a couple days after my brother's flight, but I discovered that I accidentally committed to serving for three weeks on a submarine. I thought that sounded miserable.
Then I awoke.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Dream #511 (October 25, 2013) Zombies in Detroit
My golden birthday!
In my dream, my grandpa moved to Detroit and I drove up to visit him. I was a bit hesitant to do so, because there were reports of strange and chaotic things happenin' up there, but I was more curious than afraid.
After drinking tea with my grandpa in a house that looks identical to his house in real life in Fort Wayne, IN, I parted and decided to walk about the town. I strolled past some old and grey restaurants and trinket shops and city hall and a large library (most likely an inaccurate depiction of Detroit, considering I've never been there). The city seemed as if it had been taken over by pillagers; none of the business were open, and there were only a few people rummaging about, taking what they wanted from each shop. As usual in my dreams, a strange grey twilight was the only source of illumination.
Finally I ran into someone who seemed personable. His name was Paul, and he was a fit, balding man in his thirties with a pleasant smile and perfect handshake. He introduced himself and asked if I would join him for a birthday party he was throwing for himself that evening. I accepted and walked with him to a two-story blueish-gray house jammed between a laundromat/diner and another, similar house.
He walked me to his living room which was cluttered with loaded bookshelves and various woodworkings. Paul pulled an old red book off one of the shelves and revealed a beautiful and ancient necklace that was hidden inside, made up of blue and purple gems fastened to a gold chain. He then directed my eyes to the text of the open page and read aloud as I read a beautiful poem, translated from German, written by one of his ancestors about the life of a nomad.
After we finished, several people began to enter the house, bringing in gifts, food, and balloons. Paul's twelve-year-old girl came down the stairs to greet the guests, appearing as if she had just woken up from a nap.
Paul told me if I felt uncomfortable with all the strangers in the house that I could take a trip to the library and return later when it would be more peaceful. That sounded great to me, so I headed back to the library.
I walked up the concrete steps, past the large Roman columns, and into the dimly lit library. It was quiet at first, and I began working through the book collection in the history section. Soon I began to hear terrible noises, distant at first, but rapidly and frighteningly getting louder and closer. I ran toward one of the walls and hid behind a bookshelf. I removed a couple books, which allowed me to see what was going on.
A large group of men and women in tattered clothes burst into the library. They were abusing each other as they destroyed the books and shelves inside. Some had bats or crow bars, but most were just using their hands to rip things apart. These monstrous people had either green or blue chalky skin, and colored dust flew from them everywhere they moved, and they left stains on everything they touched. I feared for my life, because I seemed to be the only regular human around. I wasn't too far from the door, so I took a deep breath and fled the library. Nobody seemed to notice or care.
I ran back to Paul's house and burst inside. Many of the partiers had gone, but a few remained. As I looked for Paul, I ran into a tall man. I looked up and saw his blueish-purple face looking down at me, smiling politely. I quickly jerked my body away from him and bolted to the basement of the house.
I walked into a small white room and saw Paul, now with light green skin, digging at the neck of a normal-looking young man standing in front of him. I observed in shock and horror as Paul, using only his fingernails, tore away the skin from the young man's right shoulder. Then, Paul bit his lip and let his blood drip into the open wound. The young man began to smile right before he passed out and hit the floor.
Paul finally noticed me standing there, and I began to back away. He smiled at me and told me I had nothing to worry about. He came and place his hand on my shoulder and said he would only make me like him if I chose the transformation. I looked over and saw that the young man had turned purple and was back on his feet.
I told Paul that I was happy being a regular human being, then he told me about all the benefits of becoming like him. He was stronger. He didn't feel pain. He had an abnormal peace inside. I proceeded to tell him about the crazy destruction I witnessed in the library, and he argued that those people were weak-of-mind and were just as dangerous when they were humans as they are now. Paul couldn't convince me, and he respected my opinion. He promised to take me to the train station where I could safely return to Indiana. He told me to grab a sandwich from the adjacent room while he went to grab his car keys. I found his twelve-year-old daughter there, huddled in a corner. I walked up to her to see if she was alright, but she turned quickly to me and tried to bite my legs. I dodged her, and threw the food-filled table down between us.
Paul rushed into the room and scolded his daughter, who was still human-colored. She then begged Paul to make her like him, and he acknowledged her by tearing into her shoulder and bleeding into her. She quickly became a little purple demon, leapt from her father's arms, and darted upstairs, shouting at the top of her lungs with a terrifying voice.
Paul told me not to worry about her. He then handed me a knife and told me to use it if I needed to.
We rode together to the train station in his old blue car. We didn't talk the whole way there.
Once we made it to the station, Paul hugged me (which made me a bit uneasy) and told me I could return anytime. Our goodbye was suddenly interrupted by two men. One was a short, purple man with a knife, and the other was a tall, African American man who seemed to be normal still. The short man told us it was in our best interest to enter his red truck, which was parked near Paul's car. The man then grabbed me by the shoulder and started to tear into it with his nails. I spun around and tried to stab him with the knife Paul gave me. I struck him in the chest, but I didn't seem to do much damage. The man took a step toward me, but was stopped short by Paul, who happened to be carrying a pistol. Paul shot him once in the chest and once in the head, killing him immediately.
His tall accomplice then ran at Paul, and I stabbed him in the back a couple times, bringing him to the ground. I tried to avoid any vital organs, but I'm not a pro, so I didn't really know what I was aiming at.
The man looked up at me and pleaded with me, claiming that he was just a drunkard with a family trying to get by. I had pity on him and asked if he wanted medical attention. Then Paul shouted at me and said that I'd better leave the man. I didn't understand, and didn't listen to him at first, but he then pointed his gun at me and told me to return to Indiana before I got in too much trouble.
So I left the wounded man with Paul and I boarded the train.
Then I awoke.
In my dream, my grandpa moved to Detroit and I drove up to visit him. I was a bit hesitant to do so, because there were reports of strange and chaotic things happenin' up there, but I was more curious than afraid.
After drinking tea with my grandpa in a house that looks identical to his house in real life in Fort Wayne, IN, I parted and decided to walk about the town. I strolled past some old and grey restaurants and trinket shops and city hall and a large library (most likely an inaccurate depiction of Detroit, considering I've never been there). The city seemed as if it had been taken over by pillagers; none of the business were open, and there were only a few people rummaging about, taking what they wanted from each shop. As usual in my dreams, a strange grey twilight was the only source of illumination.
Finally I ran into someone who seemed personable. His name was Paul, and he was a fit, balding man in his thirties with a pleasant smile and perfect handshake. He introduced himself and asked if I would join him for a birthday party he was throwing for himself that evening. I accepted and walked with him to a two-story blueish-gray house jammed between a laundromat/diner and another, similar house.
He walked me to his living room which was cluttered with loaded bookshelves and various woodworkings. Paul pulled an old red book off one of the shelves and revealed a beautiful and ancient necklace that was hidden inside, made up of blue and purple gems fastened to a gold chain. He then directed my eyes to the text of the open page and read aloud as I read a beautiful poem, translated from German, written by one of his ancestors about the life of a nomad.
After we finished, several people began to enter the house, bringing in gifts, food, and balloons. Paul's twelve-year-old girl came down the stairs to greet the guests, appearing as if she had just woken up from a nap.
Paul told me if I felt uncomfortable with all the strangers in the house that I could take a trip to the library and return later when it would be more peaceful. That sounded great to me, so I headed back to the library.
I walked up the concrete steps, past the large Roman columns, and into the dimly lit library. It was quiet at first, and I began working through the book collection in the history section. Soon I began to hear terrible noises, distant at first, but rapidly and frighteningly getting louder and closer. I ran toward one of the walls and hid behind a bookshelf. I removed a couple books, which allowed me to see what was going on.
A large group of men and women in tattered clothes burst into the library. They were abusing each other as they destroyed the books and shelves inside. Some had bats or crow bars, but most were just using their hands to rip things apart. These monstrous people had either green or blue chalky skin, and colored dust flew from them everywhere they moved, and they left stains on everything they touched. I feared for my life, because I seemed to be the only regular human around. I wasn't too far from the door, so I took a deep breath and fled the library. Nobody seemed to notice or care.
I ran back to Paul's house and burst inside. Many of the partiers had gone, but a few remained. As I looked for Paul, I ran into a tall man. I looked up and saw his blueish-purple face looking down at me, smiling politely. I quickly jerked my body away from him and bolted to the basement of the house.
I walked into a small white room and saw Paul, now with light green skin, digging at the neck of a normal-looking young man standing in front of him. I observed in shock and horror as Paul, using only his fingernails, tore away the skin from the young man's right shoulder. Then, Paul bit his lip and let his blood drip into the open wound. The young man began to smile right before he passed out and hit the floor.
Paul finally noticed me standing there, and I began to back away. He smiled at me and told me I had nothing to worry about. He came and place his hand on my shoulder and said he would only make me like him if I chose the transformation. I looked over and saw that the young man had turned purple and was back on his feet.
I told Paul that I was happy being a regular human being, then he told me about all the benefits of becoming like him. He was stronger. He didn't feel pain. He had an abnormal peace inside. I proceeded to tell him about the crazy destruction I witnessed in the library, and he argued that those people were weak-of-mind and were just as dangerous when they were humans as they are now. Paul couldn't convince me, and he respected my opinion. He promised to take me to the train station where I could safely return to Indiana. He told me to grab a sandwich from the adjacent room while he went to grab his car keys. I found his twelve-year-old daughter there, huddled in a corner. I walked up to her to see if she was alright, but she turned quickly to me and tried to bite my legs. I dodged her, and threw the food-filled table down between us.
Paul rushed into the room and scolded his daughter, who was still human-colored. She then begged Paul to make her like him, and he acknowledged her by tearing into her shoulder and bleeding into her. She quickly became a little purple demon, leapt from her father's arms, and darted upstairs, shouting at the top of her lungs with a terrifying voice.
Paul told me not to worry about her. He then handed me a knife and told me to use it if I needed to.
We rode together to the train station in his old blue car. We didn't talk the whole way there.
Once we made it to the station, Paul hugged me (which made me a bit uneasy) and told me I could return anytime. Our goodbye was suddenly interrupted by two men. One was a short, purple man with a knife, and the other was a tall, African American man who seemed to be normal still. The short man told us it was in our best interest to enter his red truck, which was parked near Paul's car. The man then grabbed me by the shoulder and started to tear into it with his nails. I spun around and tried to stab him with the knife Paul gave me. I struck him in the chest, but I didn't seem to do much damage. The man took a step toward me, but was stopped short by Paul, who happened to be carrying a pistol. Paul shot him once in the chest and once in the head, killing him immediately.
His tall accomplice then ran at Paul, and I stabbed him in the back a couple times, bringing him to the ground. I tried to avoid any vital organs, but I'm not a pro, so I didn't really know what I was aiming at.
The man looked up at me and pleaded with me, claiming that he was just a drunkard with a family trying to get by. I had pity on him and asked if he wanted medical attention. Then Paul shouted at me and said that I'd better leave the man. I didn't understand, and didn't listen to him at first, but he then pointed his gun at me and told me to return to Indiana before I got in too much trouble.
So I left the wounded man with Paul and I boarded the train.
Then I awoke.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Dream #510 (August 18, 2013) Defeat
Exciting and thoughtful (for me, probably not for any given reader).
I was riding in the back of a 15 passenger van which had all the back seats taken out. Several of my buddies were with me (the only real person with me was Bo Ennis). We were having a good old time off-roading for the fun of it. Bo was driving like a maniac, which was awesome. We flew over bumps, swerved around trees, and bursted through bushes, laughing all the way.
After a good amount of this fun, a war suddenly broke out. Bullets were flying and the Enemy was pursuing us. It turned from great bliss to terrible fear in an instant. They were popping out from behind trees, from within bushes and from under the mud. Bo turned to me and asked if I had a gun. I said, "Yes, an airsoft gun." He told me that it would work for now and to start shooting. He, meanwhile, pulled out a real gun, which made me sick to my stomach.
I was a pretty good shot with my airsoft Desert Eagle, but it didn't do much good because it mostly just annoyed those pursuing us. However, with a group effort, we all managed to escape the danger. Our van outran them, and we arrived at a large carnival. We were greeted there by Joe Nehls and Michael Kaser. As the two of them began talking to Bo, I looked around the carnival and saw that all the cool rides were made of logs.
Then Joe pulled me aside and told me to take his gun, because we were going back out to face the enemy. I argued against that decision because I didn't want to kill anybody and even if I did, we would still be terribly outnumbered.
We argued for quite a while.
Then I awoke.
I was riding in the back of a 15 passenger van which had all the back seats taken out. Several of my buddies were with me (the only real person with me was Bo Ennis). We were having a good old time off-roading for the fun of it. Bo was driving like a maniac, which was awesome. We flew over bumps, swerved around trees, and bursted through bushes, laughing all the way.
After a good amount of this fun, a war suddenly broke out. Bullets were flying and the Enemy was pursuing us. It turned from great bliss to terrible fear in an instant. They were popping out from behind trees, from within bushes and from under the mud. Bo turned to me and asked if I had a gun. I said, "Yes, an airsoft gun." He told me that it would work for now and to start shooting. He, meanwhile, pulled out a real gun, which made me sick to my stomach.
I was a pretty good shot with my airsoft Desert Eagle, but it didn't do much good because it mostly just annoyed those pursuing us. However, with a group effort, we all managed to escape the danger. Our van outran them, and we arrived at a large carnival. We were greeted there by Joe Nehls and Michael Kaser. As the two of them began talking to Bo, I looked around the carnival and saw that all the cool rides were made of logs.
Then Joe pulled me aside and told me to take his gun, because we were going back out to face the enemy. I argued against that decision because I didn't want to kill anybody and even if I did, we would still be terribly outnumbered.
We argued for quite a while.
Then I awoke.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Dream #509 (August 16, 2013) Mega Church and Toys
These days I don't blog my dreams as much as I'd like.
In this dream I was in a house painted blue on the outside and the inside. There were several rooms, all perfect cubes (same height, length, and width), and I explored each. All the rooms were empty except the final room in the far northeast corner of the house which contained a large white plastic box full of action figures. Many of the toys I had owned in real life, though a few I had merely wanted to own.
After looking through these toys for a while, a young man entered the room and asked me if I'd accompany him to the local supermarket where we were supposed to buy some more toys together. I accepted and followed him to his old white car.
Once at the supermarket we found ourselves in the midst of havoc. There were over a hundred people running about this place, throwing at each other whatever they could get their hands on. I luckily dodged several fruits and vegetables, as well as a stereo and some pool toys. The young man who took me to this place quickly joined in the chaos and started nailing people with apples.
I decided to look for the toys that I was supposed to get in the first place, so I carefully made my way to the action figure aisle. That was no place for a shopper, for all kinds of toys from G.I. JOE to Lord of the Rings characters were flying about in the air at great speeds. I decided to leave the store altogether (on foot).
I walked through the dark city, which slowly became a light city as the sun rose. I made my way into a neighborhood, where I found an enormous, bicuspid church (two steeples!). I walked in and discovered that it also was painted blue on the outside and the inside. I also discovered that Carrie Badertscher, Geoff Cocanower, Amber Kreider, and (randomly) Craig Robinson were scheduled to speak at this church. Carrie asked if I would play a certain song (that doesn't exist in real life) on the keyboard during the offering while Nick Tunez did some spinning on his turntables. I agreed to this, though I didn't realize how big of a production it would be.
Carrie led me into a dressing room where I changed into an extravagant ship captain's outfit (it was also blue, with yellow decor). When I came out she showed me where the keyboard, Nick Tunez, and I would be elevated from underground to center stage. I was beginning to get a bit nervous. Then she handed me sheet music for the song, which looked very complicated and involved a lot of synth layering, then she left me.
Instead of warming up, learning the song, and practicing, I went and found David Badertscher (Carrie's husband) and Craig Robinson and I talked with them about how they were doing. Soon enough, it was my time to perform, so I ran to my keyboard just before it elevated to center stage.
There was a huge crowd, and they seemed genuinely excited that I would be playing for them. Nick Tunez started off the song with some scratchin'.
Then I awoke.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Dream #508 (June 26, 2013) Houndmouth and Mixed Geography
I apologize for the gap in dreams blogged. Since the Mars dream I've had a tough time finding the effort to blog my dreams.
In this dream I drove up from Koontz Lake, IN through Fort Wayne, IN, stopped briefly by my grandpa's house to pick up some 35mm film and other photography equipment, then drove 8 hours up to Birmingham. Now, knowledge of United States geography would make one wonder how I drove "up" to Birmingham. Well, in my dream, Fort Wayne, though still part of Indiana, was actually in Michigan and Birmingham, though still a part of Alabama, was also in Michigan near the norther border to Canada.
It was late at night when I arrived in Brimingham, so I found a random house, parked in the driveway, and walked up to the front door and was greeted by a young woman who said she had a spare room in which I could stay.
It just so happened that Katie of the band Houndmouth was on a solo tour through Michigan and Canada and was staying in another room of this young woman's house. I saw her playing pool while the young woman was playing an old Nintendo 64 video game on a CRT television. I asked Katie how things were going with the band, and she said she just had some songs she needed to perform on her own before rejoining the band in a few days. I didn't want to distract her from her pool game, so I proceeded to my room and prepared for bed.
The next morning the young woman had made an omelet for Katie and an omelet for me. As we ate breakfast, I asked Katie where she was headed next, and she said "Toronto" without waiting to swallow her mouthful of egg (in the dream Toronto was actually just North of Birmingham [the dream Birmingham, that is]). She asked me if I could take some 35mm B+W stills of the show because it was supposed to be at some interesting museum of Canadian agriculture. I told her that I probably couldn't since I had left my passport at my grandpa's house. I wanted to go, so I left the table and called my grandpa to see if he could rush me my passport, but there was no way I could get it in time (considering the drive was 8 hours from Fort Wayne to Birmingham). I hung up and wished Katie a good trip. The rest of Houndmouth was going to be staying with the hospitable young woman, so I asked if I could stay for a couple more days, and she said I could.
I spent the rest of that morning and afternoon riding various bus routes through the twilight city of Birmingham. I photographed my experiences, which were not all that interesting (though visually there was some cool stuff). I finally returned to the house of the young woman, and there to greet me were Matt, Shane, and Zak of Houndmouth. Spirits were high, and my arrival only made them reach greater heights. They invited me to join in their poker game, and I agreed.
We played late into the night as we discussed potential future projects and told our various travel stories. Finally we all grew tired enough to sleep.
The next morning I packed up my stuff and left the house with Houndmouth. They told that they wanted me to document the rest of their tour, which excited me. I asked where they were headed next, and Matt said, "Toronto."
Well, I still didn't have my passport, but I called my grandpa anyway. He said he could meet me halfway, which seemed like a good idea to me. I told the Houndmouth guys I'd meet up with them later, hopped in my car, and begin driving back down to Fort Wayne.
Then I awoke.
In this dream I drove up from Koontz Lake, IN through Fort Wayne, IN, stopped briefly by my grandpa's house to pick up some 35mm film and other photography equipment, then drove 8 hours up to Birmingham. Now, knowledge of United States geography would make one wonder how I drove "up" to Birmingham. Well, in my dream, Fort Wayne, though still part of Indiana, was actually in Michigan and Birmingham, though still a part of Alabama, was also in Michigan near the norther border to Canada.
It was late at night when I arrived in Brimingham, so I found a random house, parked in the driveway, and walked up to the front door and was greeted by a young woman who said she had a spare room in which I could stay.
It just so happened that Katie of the band Houndmouth was on a solo tour through Michigan and Canada and was staying in another room of this young woman's house. I saw her playing pool while the young woman was playing an old Nintendo 64 video game on a CRT television. I asked Katie how things were going with the band, and she said she just had some songs she needed to perform on her own before rejoining the band in a few days. I didn't want to distract her from her pool game, so I proceeded to my room and prepared for bed.
The next morning the young woman had made an omelet for Katie and an omelet for me. As we ate breakfast, I asked Katie where she was headed next, and she said "Toronto" without waiting to swallow her mouthful of egg (in the dream Toronto was actually just North of Birmingham [the dream Birmingham, that is]). She asked me if I could take some 35mm B+W stills of the show because it was supposed to be at some interesting museum of Canadian agriculture. I told her that I probably couldn't since I had left my passport at my grandpa's house. I wanted to go, so I left the table and called my grandpa to see if he could rush me my passport, but there was no way I could get it in time (considering the drive was 8 hours from Fort Wayne to Birmingham). I hung up and wished Katie a good trip. The rest of Houndmouth was going to be staying with the hospitable young woman, so I asked if I could stay for a couple more days, and she said I could.
I spent the rest of that morning and afternoon riding various bus routes through the twilight city of Birmingham. I photographed my experiences, which were not all that interesting (though visually there was some cool stuff). I finally returned to the house of the young woman, and there to greet me were Matt, Shane, and Zak of Houndmouth. Spirits were high, and my arrival only made them reach greater heights. They invited me to join in their poker game, and I agreed.
We played late into the night as we discussed potential future projects and told our various travel stories. Finally we all grew tired enough to sleep.
The next morning I packed up my stuff and left the house with Houndmouth. They told that they wanted me to document the rest of their tour, which excited me. I asked where they were headed next, and Matt said, "Toronto."
Well, I still didn't have my passport, but I called my grandpa anyway. He said he could meet me halfway, which seemed like a good idea to me. I told the Houndmouth guys I'd meet up with them later, hopped in my car, and begin driving back down to Fort Wayne.
Then I awoke.
Dream #507 (June 1, 2013) Mission To Mars
The Red Planet. I will try to be very brief, considering the amount of time that passed in this dream.
I was selected to join a team of men and women journeying to Mars. We were to be the first people ever to set foot on the planet. However, it came not without a cost. It was to be an eight year journey, with no return. When the selections were made, I was among the elect. The rest were strangers, except for Amy Ennis (a former co-worker of mine at Prairie Camp) and George Takei.
Well, the ship was enormous, and had a prodigious control room with an expansive window looking out across the space before us. I had the duty of inspecting all the various machinery in the ship, and keeping it up and running. I was quite handy, and was able to fix just about any malfunction.
I didn't socialize much on the journey. I kept to my self and spent most of my time reading classic literature.
Somehow, in my dream, a whole year and a half passed. There was a meeting of all the astronauts in the control room at that time, and our Earth correspondent had sent us a video message stating that the ship was not operating as expected and it would have to return to Earth, otherwise it would not make it to Mars safely.
I was both excited and depressed, and I spent the next year and a half back both anticipating and dreading the upcoming return.
A large party was thrown for all the astronauts by friends and family, and I remember eating meatballs, little sausages, and cheese in a little blue bedroom with Amy and a bunch of our friends (including Amy's husband Bo, and Dave and Carrie Badertscher). I felt very disconnected with everyone, and I longed to return to space. I felt so strongly that I could no longer exist on Earth and that I belonged away from it.
I awoke from the dream, but that feeling has stuck with me, even till now as I write this post nearly a month later.
I was selected to join a team of men and women journeying to Mars. We were to be the first people ever to set foot on the planet. However, it came not without a cost. It was to be an eight year journey, with no return. When the selections were made, I was among the elect. The rest were strangers, except for Amy Ennis (a former co-worker of mine at Prairie Camp) and George Takei.
Well, the ship was enormous, and had a prodigious control room with an expansive window looking out across the space before us. I had the duty of inspecting all the various machinery in the ship, and keeping it up and running. I was quite handy, and was able to fix just about any malfunction.
I didn't socialize much on the journey. I kept to my self and spent most of my time reading classic literature.
Somehow, in my dream, a whole year and a half passed. There was a meeting of all the astronauts in the control room at that time, and our Earth correspondent had sent us a video message stating that the ship was not operating as expected and it would have to return to Earth, otherwise it would not make it to Mars safely.
I was both excited and depressed, and I spent the next year and a half back both anticipating and dreading the upcoming return.
A large party was thrown for all the astronauts by friends and family, and I remember eating meatballs, little sausages, and cheese in a little blue bedroom with Amy and a bunch of our friends (including Amy's husband Bo, and Dave and Carrie Badertscher). I felt very disconnected with everyone, and I longed to return to space. I felt so strongly that I could no longer exist on Earth and that I belonged away from it.
I awoke from the dream, but that feeling has stuck with me, even till now as I write this post nearly a month later.
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