Holy christ that was strange! I woke up from my dream and thought, "wow, that was strange/funny, I should tell aliki about that - it was kind of a dream within a dream, like those russian doll things". And then, bam, all of a sudden my full real dream comes kind of smashing back into my memory, but almost forcefully, and mostly playing in reverse (kind of like watching a tape rewind really fast) - sort of like that "download and suddenly know how to fly a plane" thing from the matrix. This is all while I'm awake mind you. I bolt out of bed and skip waiting for the computer to turn on so I've scrawled my dream over 4 pages in very bad handwriting. I must have some sort of creative center of the brain that's not getting enough exercise. Anyway, this is it, written in "forward" order. It'll at least give you something to read even if it didn't actually happen to me (does it belong in a blog then?)
"Lance" (played by Clive Owen) or "Lawrence" or something similar and I are among a group of freedom fighters currently somewhere around Tibet that need to detonate a nuclear bomb over china for some purpose or other. There is considerable debate within the freedom fighter group as to what size of detonation to use (is 62 megatons too big? 27 too small? maybe we should have 1000 10 kiloton explosions, it's more impressive if we carve a long line in the ground with a long series of explosions). Clive and I aren't really keen on actually killing all of these people so we plot to secretly configure the bomb to be like 1 kiloton (well below the international limit in case he's caught) and explode high in the air where it won't really do much damage. It's decided (though I don't remember on what) so Clive and I head off to Everest to climb up to the snow fields where there's some abandoned cockpit thing that controls the configuration of the bomb. This is handy since the roads are out and we'd have to have climbed over the mountain anyway. After some playing with ropes and cramp-ons and sliding over the ice fields we finally make it to the cockpit. The instructions for accessing the bomb control panel are complicated and involve a small teriyaki shop's frequent buyer card and precisely three quarters. The three quarters aren't a problem because there are some taped to the dash board - no wait, those are old watches. No matter, Clive's got quarters. We configure things and then...
... Now I'm in a hotel room with some punk kid who's claiming that it was actually HE how managed to bring Clive back to health after he fell from the sky post explosion that never happened (did it not work? Did we configure it to not work so no one would die?). Clearly I remember Clive falling from the sky into the snow field where my friend Sherry and I managed to get him down (past the reverse walking opera singers in the ice hotel) where he was taken back to the states and became a national hero. No. This kid is claiming that Clive fell into the hotel where he was going to culinary school and he had to nurse him back to health over the course of a week because that's what his hotel manager had told him to do. It was funny since the hotel manager knew he was going to fall from the sky since he'd told this kid to wait around for it - the kid even had to miss his "marble class". This kid is full of it since I know for sure Clive fell back to the mountain. Whatever, if this kid needs the glory that bad it's his to have...
... Now I'm naked in the middle of a casino again. I've lost all of my money and clothes (apparently) on this really complicated slot machine where it was all riding on double payoff if two sixes came up and of course they didn't. Oh look, here's Scott. This is handy, I can clarify the whole Clive thing, he'll remember. For some reason he never answers the question though. Instead he points out that I should just sell some of the giant tangled wad of bracelets I have with me in my bag (of clothing) by my side. Good plan, but really, who's going to buy this stuff? Lots of people it turns out. I make a few hundred dollars which is strange since these things can't be worth more than a few cents but people are paying $20 for them. One gal has to use PayPal to send me money but wants to use my Xbox 360 "Gamer Tag" to send it instead. Whatever, money is money and I've got none. Now that I've got cash (and am once again clothed) I'm wandering through a surreal Denny's looking for my friends. I find Scott and we decide to go pick them all up - first I need to drop my bag off at the room though. I find a tall lanky bell hop who hasn't shaved in a week and has a very pronounced lisp. I give him long and complicated instructions on how he's going to have to return this bag to room 3008 - he seems to grasp this concept so I give him a $5 tip. Scott is out in the parking lot negotiating with a limo driver to take us around to find our friends. Then he climbs into the trunk, folds down the center seat and sits on the bare floor so he can have more headroom. I get in through the back passenger door where it's all faded gray shag carpet and slightly dusty. The limo starts moving and Scott decides he wants to sit on a seat since this is kind of ridiculous. I chuckle and stare out the window and realize that I've only ever been in a limo 1 1/2 times. What the heck does 1/2 time mean? Suddenly I snap awake in a car, I was just dreaming I was in a limo. Then I snap awake in my bed. I'm pretty sure this is it, this is reality, this is all of the dreams within dreams but for a brief moment I'm not 100% sure - it's an incredibly bizarre feeling.
That's the dream.
There were little other bits that I can't quite seem to fit in chronologically - I think I was on a bus heading to culinary school at some point (it was held at an Anthony's so this was a higher class school than the one held at Red Lobster). I wasn't *really* going though, just testing it out for a few days, the bus driver knows this and is going to drop me off at my house on this incredibly windy road if I just pull the string to indicate I want to be dropped off.
"Lance" (played by Clive Owen) or "Lawrence" or something similar and I are among a group of freedom fighters currently somewhere around Tibet that need to detonate a nuclear bomb over china for some purpose or other. There is considerable debate within the freedom fighter group as to what size of detonation to use (is 62 megatons too big? 27 too small? maybe we should have 1000 10 kiloton explosions, it's more impressive if we carve a long line in the ground with a long series of explosions). Clive and I aren't really keen on actually killing all of these people so we plot to secretly configure the bomb to be like 1 kiloton (well below the international limit in case he's caught) and explode high in the air where it won't really do much damage. It's decided (though I don't remember on what) so Clive and I head off to Everest to climb up to the snow fields where there's some abandoned cockpit thing that controls the configuration of the bomb. This is handy since the roads are out and we'd have to have climbed over the mountain anyway. After some playing with ropes and cramp-ons and sliding over the ice fields we finally make it to the cockpit. The instructions for accessing the bomb control panel are complicated and involve a small teriyaki shop's frequent buyer card and precisely three quarters. The three quarters aren't a problem because there are some taped to the dash board - no wait, those are old watches. No matter, Clive's got quarters. We configure things and then...
... Now I'm in a hotel room with some punk kid who's claiming that it was actually HE how managed to bring Clive back to health after he fell from the sky post explosion that never happened (did it not work? Did we configure it to not work so no one would die?). Clearly I remember Clive falling from the sky into the snow field where my friend Sherry and I managed to get him down (past the reverse walking opera singers in the ice hotel) where he was taken back to the states and became a national hero. No. This kid is claiming that Clive fell into the hotel where he was going to culinary school and he had to nurse him back to health over the course of a week because that's what his hotel manager had told him to do. It was funny since the hotel manager knew he was going to fall from the sky since he'd told this kid to wait around for it - the kid even had to miss his "marble class". This kid is full of it since I know for sure Clive fell back to the mountain. Whatever, if this kid needs the glory that bad it's his to have...
... Now I'm naked in the middle of a casino again. I've lost all of my money and clothes (apparently) on this really complicated slot machine where it was all riding on double payoff if two sixes came up and of course they didn't. Oh look, here's Scott. This is handy, I can clarify the whole Clive thing, he'll remember. For some reason he never answers the question though. Instead he points out that I should just sell some of the giant tangled wad of bracelets I have with me in my bag (of clothing) by my side. Good plan, but really, who's going to buy this stuff? Lots of people it turns out. I make a few hundred dollars which is strange since these things can't be worth more than a few cents but people are paying $20 for them. One gal has to use PayPal to send me money but wants to use my Xbox 360 "Gamer Tag" to send it instead. Whatever, money is money and I've got none. Now that I've got cash (and am once again clothed) I'm wandering through a surreal Denny's looking for my friends. I find Scott and we decide to go pick them all up - first I need to drop my bag off at the room though. I find a tall lanky bell hop who hasn't shaved in a week and has a very pronounced lisp. I give him long and complicated instructions on how he's going to have to return this bag to room 3008 - he seems to grasp this concept so I give him a $5 tip. Scott is out in the parking lot negotiating with a limo driver to take us around to find our friends. Then he climbs into the trunk, folds down the center seat and sits on the bare floor so he can have more headroom. I get in through the back passenger door where it's all faded gray shag carpet and slightly dusty. The limo starts moving and Scott decides he wants to sit on a seat since this is kind of ridiculous. I chuckle and stare out the window and realize that I've only ever been in a limo 1 1/2 times. What the heck does 1/2 time mean? Suddenly I snap awake in a car, I was just dreaming I was in a limo. Then I snap awake in my bed. I'm pretty sure this is it, this is reality, this is all of the dreams within dreams but for a brief moment I'm not 100% sure - it's an incredibly bizarre feeling.
That's the dream.
There were little other bits that I can't quite seem to fit in chronologically - I think I was on a bus heading to culinary school at some point (it was held at an Anthony's so this was a higher class school than the one held at Red Lobster). I wasn't *really* going though, just testing it out for a few days, the bus driver knows this and is going to drop me off at my house on this incredibly windy road if I just pull the string to indicate I want to be dropped off.
Awesome. My favorite part is the need to have a "small teriyaki shop's frequent buyer card and precisely three quarters". And is it me, or does the process of Scott getting in the limo for more headroom actually make sense as something that could happen in real life?
Man, I'm just impressed you were able to get this all down. I had a crazy vivid dream the other night, and as I was repeating it aloud when I woke up, it was slowly fading away, and increasingly making less sense...
I like when the quarters turn out to be watches.
LMAO!!
Zack, you are the best.