awahlbom: (weird)
posted by [personal profile] awahlbom at 12:57pm on 10/08/2007 under ,
Parts of a nightmare, ca. 3-3:30, Thursday 9 August 2007:
This was a rather vivid nightmare about living dead, so you may not want to read it. )
Mood:: 'lazy' lazy
awahlbom: (weird)
posted by [personal profile] awahlbom at 11:48pm on 23/01/2007 under
A dream tonight, just before 7:00:
I find a new entry from [ profile] ravna on my friends list. It's partly addressed to me.
It turns out one of her friends wants to contact me after we met at [ profile] kjn's and [ profile] thette's place, but had no idea of who I was or where to find me; apparently this strange lady thought I was really cool. From the description, [ profile] ravna can only conclude that she means me.
I think hard. Ah yes, I have a vague memory of talking to someone and getting along rather well with her, but buggered if I can remember her face. The only way to find out is to click on her user info. She might be interesting; on the other hand, if she's attracted to me there could be reason to question her judgement. (More to the point: if she has the hots for me, she's probably batshit insane.)
I only have the time to catch a quick glimpse of her user page, enough to see that it's horribly scrambled and completely unreadable, before my alarm clock goes off.

I'm sure this dream signifies something, but I don't know what. Armchair Freudians can probably have a field day; feel free to analyse, but if you publish anything I would appreciate credit and possibly a share of any royalties. (Hm, I wonder what kind of license would be appropriate? Can I copyright my dreams?)
awahlbom: (gretchen)
posted by [personal profile] awahlbom at 05:19pm on 30/08/2006 under ,
More weird dreams tonight: I somehow ended up in Buffy season 8. What with the sudden lack of a Sunnydale, the whole show had relocated to Stockholm (don't ask me why, it probably seemed like a good idea at the time). The funny thing is that I was not involved in the production, but in the plot. My role, I'm afraid, was not that of a Marty Stu — quite the opposite, in fact, as I just got in the way and pissed everyone off; even the vamps wanted nothing to do with me and weren't even interested in me as food, not for a big clock. I never found out exactly where the Hellmouth was located, but I suspect it's somewhere in Gallerian, which would explain a lot.

Maybe I should watch something else for a while. It is safe to say, though, that if a TV show starts figuring in my dreams, it has made quite an impression on me.
Music:: Pet Shop Boys: "You Know Where You Went Wrong"
awahlbom: (brain)
posted by [personal profile] awahlbom at 10:11am on 23/11/2005 under
Dream the night before last:
I am supposed to meet [ profile] thette at the train station to give her a package of some kind before she boards her train. Said train leaves from platform 6 at a specified time. However, finding this platform in this huge labyrinth of a train station is trickier than I thought, time rushes away in leaps and bounds, and somehow I can't seem to dial her mobile number but get a series of increasingly wronger numbers. Finally, I find platform 6, next to platform 92 (because they're not numbered sequentially, perish the thought, that would spoil all the fun), in the innermost corner of the sub-sub-basement. And strangely enough, it looks just like my bedroom.
Then I look around again and realise it is my bedroom. Well, I reckon it's just one of those things, but it's a bit on the small side; they can only fit in the first door of the first car between the foot of my bed and the wardrobe. I briefly wonder where they put the rest of the train, but then I decide it's their own damn problem. The few passengers on this line can go in and out through this door and get to and from their places by walking through the train anyway.
But [ profile] thette is nowhere to be seen, I still can't reach her on the phone, and time is running out, so I hand the package to a strange woman boarding the train and give her a description of the intended recipient, and she promises to pass it on. And then I wake up and find no train at the foot of the bed.

When I related this dream to Thette yesterday, her comment was:

> *laughter*
> You have weird dreams sometimes.

I concur. The city of my dreams, as opposed to the city where I'd like to live, would be a rather nasty place. Some day I might even tell you about it.
awahlbom: (weird)
posted by [personal profile] awahlbom at 04:26pm on 05/04/2005 under ,
Dream last night, around 4:30:
You can temporarily enhance your skills (any skills) by mentally uplinking to a hive-mind composed of the souls of the dead. By establishing this link (done, I seem to remember, by dialling a payphone number at an exorbitant fee), I am suddenly able to drive a car perfectly at incredible speeds in heavy traffic. There is a feeling of tremendous power, of heightened senses and of lightning-fast reactions, but also of utter terror. I can feel them inside my head, minds polite but vast and cool and unsympathetic, only cooperating because some sort of supernatural contract obliges them to. Imagine, if you will, a nazgûl fallen on hard times and working as a tourist guide; that is the general feeling, of a terrifying creature being polite of necessity, and who might dispense with politeness if you provoke it enough. It is made clear to me somehow that the feeling of terror is an intentional tradeoff so living people won't abuse it, for the dead do not gladly suffer to be disturbed except by emergencies, and even then they resent it strongly. Therefore, it is purposely made as frightening as possible, so that the service will only be used when the alternative is even more terrifying. They are bound by the Contract to help those who contact them to the best of their abilities, but no force on either side of the veil can make them like it.

This is not the whole dream, of course, but only a fragment of it. There was a girl in it too, who was someone I slightly know and would like to know better IRL, and yet she wasn't. And fire. And a strange underground station. I don't really remember much more. Anyhow, if any weird horror writer would like to use this idea, do so.
awahlbom: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] awahlbom at 01:35pm on 08/02/2005 under , ,
My YMCK CD arrived yesterday. It is a proper, pressed CD and not a CD-R, but as the label Usagi-Chang doesn't have any distribution outside Japan yet, all foreign orders are handled by the band themselves. (The return address was band member Takeshi Yokemura's home address, and the little green customs declaration form was signed by vocalist Midori Kurihara. How's that for a personal touch?)


Last night I had the strangest dream.

We (at least myself and a girl; I've known her all my life — in my dream, that is) land on a small island off the coast where the people seem like inbred village idiots, but soon turn out to be Deep Ones (see Lovecraft's "The Shadow over Innsmouth" and the not-too-bad film based on it Dagon). They try to either kill us or, worse, change us into them (the Deep Ones with a whiff of the Borg!). Luckily we run into Dirk Ivens, who helps us keep away from them for a while.

But finally, after a wrong turn, we are cornered in a sort of temple, and their human disguise is starting to slough off as they close in on us (me and the girl). Suddenly we notice that the floor in the temple is just a sheet of tarpaulin over a body of water, and starting to crack. The girl looks at me. "If we stay here we're certain to die horribly. Going down there is only probable death," she whispers, grabs my arm and dives into the water, pulling me with her.

The water is horribly deep and black and slightly oily, and my lungs are probably going to burst any second, but at least I don't feel any tentacles around me. Finally there is light far, far above, and we swim upwards and break the surface in a bustling harbour in a big city. We climb out of the water as fast as we can in case something is in pursuit, dirty, wet, miserable, shivering, but alive. And while we're trying to found out where the hell we are, a voice starts talking about cultural politics, and then I wake up and realise it's my radio.

I won't even try to analyse this, and I'm definitely not contacting Dive to ask what the hell he's doing in my dreams...
Music:: Miharu Koshi: Parallelisme (パラレリズム)
Mood:: 'awake' awake


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