wolven7 | "One" Whiskey,"One Scotch, One Beer."

Dream i had, today... This, firstly, is the sleep that i had, after 8 hours of working. Then i came home, on MARTA, watched some Sealab, ate some beef Ramen, and went to sleep listening to Bif Naked. None of which have Any relevance to the Dream itself.

I'm ont he road with my dad, again, briefly. We're back in the deserts, at that gas station.

I'm in a house, again, briefly. Flashes of the past few nights.

The sense of having sent someone on a mission, but they're just kids...

I'm inside my grandfather's house, in D.C. The one who died. Not only am i in the House, the house is a Book, and i'm inside of it. I'm a detective, of some sort. I'm in my mid- to late-fifties, and i'm researching cases. There is the impression of a Hill, and a bus, and close trees, on all sides, and dilapidation. But that's just me thinking about home. The book i'm inside of is a Sandman related collection. All of the stories are laid out like a map, before me. I can walk from one to the next, without trouble, and they make sense. They all involve Dream, in some way, and the seeming senselessness of his realm, and how, really, it all makes perfect sense. Jango Fett and the Kracken are the Focuses of one of the stories, and i walk past it, into on that Seems very Nior.

I'm walking on the Kracken, and it's singing, at me, a combination of "Mack the Knife" and "One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer." It replaces the word "Bourbon" with "Whiskey," though... {In the backgroud is a weird, popularised conception of "The Astral Plane." It's empty, but full of things, and stars, and ideas, and planets.} I'm walking along the Kracken, until i get to a table, where i sit down. I'm in a dinning room/kitchenette thing, in someone's house, which i know to be My house {And the Karcken is off to my left, while still being underneath everything}. There is something on the table that i Refuse to look at. I don't want to see it, and i don't want it to see me. I stare at the ceiling, and, eventually, my head is forced down to the table, where i see this Deformed Thing, that looks like the Kracken's head looked. There are things coming out of it, and the arms are deformed, with tendons showing, and it has One discernible Eye. and it keeps blinking at me. It knows me. I toss and turn, in the dream

There's a feeling of my aunt Tracy's House, in Maryland. More of the kids on missions.

I'm in an armchair, at the same table. Something starts crawling over the back of the chair, and i know what it is... I jump out of the chair, and run to the door.

I'm in a folding chair, at the table, and i'm John Goodman. John Goodman is the detective, and i'm him. We're talking to our wife, at the table, and we're laughing, and having a great time. There is something, on the table, covered in a towel, but i don't have to look at it. I can ignore it. We continue laughing, and my wife says "Honey, time for dinner." She throws back the dish towel, and there's the Thing, again. It looks at me, jumps on me, latches onto my neck, and i Scream. The Kracken is still singing its song, off to the left of the "Stage." I scream "It's some sort of half-formed horrid Manchild, made flesh!" and i fall to the ground, trying to get away.

I'm starting to wake up, in the dream, because i know th fabric of it All, now, and i get these flashes of small bits and pieces of flesh, coming together, under a towel, and forming the Kracken/Child.

I scream, in the dinning room, more, and then i wake up.

I'm next to a car, with Rowan Attkinson. And i tell him what's been happening. I yell at him, sternly, for a while. We're in the parking lot of the Spanish style Cathedral, from before, but there's the overwhelming sensation of East Atlanta, Silver Springs Maryland, and that Hill and that Bus. I realise that i'm still dreaming, and that this dream was either meant for someone else, or it was showing me what i'd missed. i wake up

And those were my dreams, This morning. Went to bed at around 8 am. Woke up at Two. *twitch* Off to scrounge Caffeine. Later.