Dreams: Missing something
Jun. 18th, 2009 11:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wolven7Dreams started with being in this house, during a small gathering. Of going innto the fridge to get food, and then deciding to listen to the Sirius/XM satelite radio, set inside our fridge. Fiddling with the knob, changing the station away from new Metallica, as the metalhead pastry deliverry guy, from work, comes up from the basement, and makes fun of Anna by asking for some Blondie. Blondie comes on next. I think about an Old Metalica song, and it comes on. There are some weird composite, interpretational videos on a small screen linked to the S./XM Radio. I stare at these, awhile...
I'm off in a combination of the far north and far south of Georgia, lots of mountains, but also lots of plains. Driving along the state roads, seeing the strange liminal places of diners and truck stops.
Watching/Riding with a blonde cyberpunk-type girl through the backwoods highways. Watching because she's in a music video. We're obviously running from someone, as we pull off into the woods, near a swamp/mud hole, into which she rides her motorcycle. She reaches up from the depths of the mud, dramatically, and pulls herself to the surface. We hunker down behind a set of mostly buried and reclaimed concrete ruins, so we can watch the road. Some marauders speed by, one of whom is keeping an eye out for mud holes, and tossing grenades into them. we have to scramble to not get blown up, and not be seen, but her bike is destroyed. She goes out onto the road, after the marauders turn around and head the other way, and catches one of the stragglers off-guard. She knocks the girl out, takes her motorcycle, and rides far and fast. They follow her, and I'm left to commandeer a car, using the sword the female marauder dropped. I tell the old man to follow that motorcycle, and he looks disapprovingly at the sword. I look our over the mountain ridge, and I see the moon, and the old man starts talking to me about the choices we make in life. I look back down to the road, and see the guard rail and the edge of the cliff and the fact that the old man is looking through his centre console, for something, just as the car goes through and over.
We're falling down the side of a mountain, and I haven't woken up, yet. The fear and the adreneline haven't sent me shooting upright, out of bed, yet, and so I know that this is real and that I'm going to die, falling down the side of a mountain in an old Honda Accord Hatchback. I start mentally preparing myself for the things that will never happen, and the people I'm going to miss, and I start saying goodbye to everyone. After a while, I notice that I still feel like I'm falling, and that I should have "hit" a long time ago.
I open my eyes, and I'm laying on my side, on the couch in a fractal iteration of every apartment in which I've ever lived. By which I mean that the Entire Apartment is reproduced inside Every Room of the Apartment. i know that there has been a party, and I don't know how I got home. I am very upset that I don't remember anything that happened, or how I got home. I keep asking people what happened, and nothing jogs my memory, and I get more and more upset. Noteworthy cast of characters includes Luke, Brandon,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hametsunosaturn, cailement, tsarina_bomba, theapplethief, and many others. For the most part, people I haven't seen, with my eyes, in a very long time. Each of them tells me a different component of what happened, and what I did, and I still don't remember any of it. The last I remember was driving along the highway in the Far North/Deep South of Georgia, going to a mansion in the woods, and then...? I keep complaining about the fact that I Always remember the things that happen, no matter How Drunk I Get, and Luke tells me that maybe my memory of the events is the price I had to pay for the events themselves. We're in the hallways of the apartment building, which are the halls of a hotel and a law school. Something about this price seems fundamentally imbalanced and particularly Faustian. Wonderful for everyone else, but complete torture, for me.
I realise that there are still events happening, at this party, as a sort of after-party for the party, and there's a girl from my job, cuddling onhametsunosaturn, obviously waiting for an answer to some question, which hametsunosaturn isn't yet ready to give. I go and sit down on the floor next to the dining room table, and make one last attempt to ask cailement what happened, but she only half hears me. Everyone is decompressing, as an after effect of the ridiculous party... i wake up
Yeah... Intricate, layered dreams.
How'd you sleep?
I'm off in a combination of the far north and far south of Georgia, lots of mountains, but also lots of plains. Driving along the state roads, seeing the strange liminal places of diners and truck stops.
Watching/Riding with a blonde cyberpunk-type girl through the backwoods highways. Watching because she's in a music video. We're obviously running from someone, as we pull off into the woods, near a swamp/mud hole, into which she rides her motorcycle. She reaches up from the depths of the mud, dramatically, and pulls herself to the surface. We hunker down behind a set of mostly buried and reclaimed concrete ruins, so we can watch the road. Some marauders speed by, one of whom is keeping an eye out for mud holes, and tossing grenades into them. we have to scramble to not get blown up, and not be seen, but her bike is destroyed. She goes out onto the road, after the marauders turn around and head the other way, and catches one of the stragglers off-guard. She knocks the girl out, takes her motorcycle, and rides far and fast. They follow her, and I'm left to commandeer a car, using the sword the female marauder dropped. I tell the old man to follow that motorcycle, and he looks disapprovingly at the sword. I look our over the mountain ridge, and I see the moon, and the old man starts talking to me about the choices we make in life. I look back down to the road, and see the guard rail and the edge of the cliff and the fact that the old man is looking through his centre console, for something, just as the car goes through and over.
We're falling down the side of a mountain, and I haven't woken up, yet. The fear and the adreneline haven't sent me shooting upright, out of bed, yet, and so I know that this is real and that I'm going to die, falling down the side of a mountain in an old Honda Accord Hatchback. I start mentally preparing myself for the things that will never happen, and the people I'm going to miss, and I start saying goodbye to everyone. After a while, I notice that I still feel like I'm falling, and that I should have "hit" a long time ago.
I open my eyes, and I'm laying on my side, on the couch in a fractal iteration of every apartment in which I've ever lived. By which I mean that the Entire Apartment is reproduced inside Every Room of the Apartment. i know that there has been a party, and I don't know how I got home. I am very upset that I don't remember anything that happened, or how I got home. I keep asking people what happened, and nothing jogs my memory, and I get more and more upset. Noteworthy cast of characters includes Luke, Brandon,
hametsunosaturn, cailement, tsarina_bomba, theapplethief, and many others. For the most part, people I haven't seen, with my eyes, in a very long time. Each of them tells me a different component of what happened, and what I did, and I still don't remember any of it. The last I remember was driving along the highway in the Far North/Deep South of Georgia, going to a mansion in the woods, and then...? I keep complaining about the fact that I Always remember the things that happen, no matter How Drunk I Get, and Luke tells me that maybe my memory of the events is the price I had to pay for the events themselves. We're in the hallways of the apartment building, which are the halls of a hotel and a law school. Something about this price seems fundamentally imbalanced and particularly Faustian. Wonderful for everyone else, but complete torture, for me.I realise that there are still events happening, at this party, as a sort of after-party for the party, and there's a girl from my job, cuddling on
hametsunosaturn, obviously waiting for an answer to some question, which hametsunosaturn isn't yet ready to give. I go and sit down on the floor next to the dining room table, and make one last attempt to ask cailement what happened, but she only half hears me. Everyone is decompressing, as an after effect of the ridiculous party... i wake upYeah... Intricate, layered dreams.
How'd you sleep?
