I was up for most of the night tossing and turning. Again. This time the sun was nearly up by the time I fell asleep. I just couldn't get comfortable. Perhaps that would explain why this next dream was so strange.
I can't remember exactly what was going on. For one, I dressed in a gray suit. I hate suits. A dress shirt and tie, that's my normal attire, but slacks and a blazer? No thank you. That wasn't the weirdest part, though. I was driving, barreling down the road, and there were sirens in my wake. In the back of my mind I noted that they were with me, and that, wherever I was going, I had to hurry.
I drove up to the front of an office building and ran in, police cars pulling up behind me. It was dark inside, but my eyes adjusted to the shadows quickly enough as I ran up the stairwell to a mid level. I dashed over to a corner office, but when I got there, I could tell I was too late. Whatever I was looking for wasn't there.
The muted sound of a closing door caught my attention and I was running again, this time back the way I came. There was a figure making it's way down the stairs, and I went as fast as I could after it. When it got to the ground level, it made for a window and leaped through, disappearing into the night. I didn't waste much time standing around. Somehow I knew where it was going next.
I got back into the car and floored it, making my way to a residential neighborhood. It kind of reminded me of the suburbs of West Covina, right by the freeway. The house I stopped in front of even reminded me of where my Grandmother lived with the family on my father's side.
I got out of the car, and made my way quietly up to the door. It was open. As I crept in, I patted my pockets and the inside of my coat. I was thinking I'm wearing a suit, being followed by black and whites, I must have been a cop in this dream. So why aren't I carrying a side arm?
A sound from the nearby bedroom made me wish I had a blade, at least. When I opened the door, I saw a tall male figure, possibly caucasian or hispanic, in black pants and a dark gray hooded sweatshirt. He looked up when I entered and vanished. I blinked in surprise, but the sounds of foot steps heading toward the back spurred me to give chase. I made it to the back yard just in time to see him step on some conveniently placed boulders to jump over the fence and out of sight. I knew I could do the same, maybe even catch him. But something compelled me to stop.
In spite of the fact that his hood was up, I knew who he was thanks in part to his rather distinctive eye wear. Or rather who it was supposed to be. He's a main character in a book I'm working on, a master thief as silent as the grave. Yet the thief I was chasing made too much noise for it to be the same guy. And even in a dream, why would I be chasing the alter ego of my alter ego...
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Resonant Yaw
"...what he saw as defects were actually necessities. Look: when I was working on missiles, we dealt with something called 'resonant yaw.' Resonant yaw meant that, even though a missile was only slightly unstable off the pad, it was hopeless. It was inevitably going to go out of control, and it couldn't be brought back. That's a feature of mechanical systems. A little wobble can get worse until the whole system collapses. But those same little wobbles are essential to a living system. They mean the system is healthy and responsive."
-Jurassic Park
I can see why this dream started where it had. Earlier in the day, I tried looking for my Halo Cd. When I couldn't find it, I downloaded Halo Custom Edition, thinking there might be a chance I'd run into her on one of those servers. A slim chance, but even if I hadn't found a friend, I might at least find a decent sniper server. Of course there was no luck on either count. I guess it was still on my mind when I went to bed later.
I emerged in my dream on a snowy landscape, once again, in the thick of battle. Except this was from the game. The scene was reminiscent of the one in Halo 3, where the two scarab walkers were dropped from orbit. Though there was only one in this dream, and it's attention seemed to be occupied on the opposite side of the slope. I ran up to get a better view when two zombie-like flood combat forms popped up from the side, landing in my path. I looked around for a weapon, any weapon, and found a pair of plasma swords by the body of a covenant grunt. Perfect.
With a sword in each hand (which they really should've put in the game!) I cut down the two figures before me and continued upward. More flood came scrambling up the side, mainly infection forms. I didn't stop swinging until I made it to the ridge on top. The scarab was about to be taken down by the ODSTs, but I noticed a pair of ghost hover cycles gliding away from the scene, towards a tunnel in the nearby cliff face. Thinking back to my brother's japanese hero shows, I leaped off the hill, taking out a rider with a flying side kick.
I hopped onto the driver's seat as the other ghost came to a halt a few yards away. The other rider wasn't a covenant alien. She was a human. She didn't give me much chance to get a good look, taking off like a shot into the tunnel. I gave chase, hitting the after burners to dash in after her.
Through the winding labyrinth of passages, I kept her in sight until I took a corner too hard and spun out. By the time I got back under control, she was gone. Luckily the tunnel ended soon after that, and there was nowhere else for her to have gone. The room it opened up to had a kind of catwalk or gantry in the middle, leading up to an entryway. Getting off my ride, I noticed there wasn't an easy way to climb up it. So I jumped, kicked off the nearest wall, and grabbed onto the edge, pulling myself up.
The passage way was a white alcove. It didn't look like it would lead anywhere, but when I approached, I suddenly found myself back at Bishop Amat High School. This was creepy. Aside from my time at marching band, I didn't have too many fond memories of this place. It was during that time where I had something of a crisis of faith, and it took me years to find it again.
I continued walking forward, past the library, through the quad, and around the chapel. To my right was the hallway that held my locker for a year and a half until I was expelled. Right across from the infirmary. I don't know what drew me to the door, but I opened it up expecting to find the usual beds and nurses desk. Instead, I found a bedroom, much like the one a child would have. The bed occupied the space under the window, the walls painted in a dark blue color. There were toys strewn about, plastic balls, wooden blocks, and some hot wheels cars. I picked up a red ball, squeezing it lightly in hand. Just like the kind you'd find in one of those playgrounds at Mc Donald's.
Suddenly, a female voice came from behind me, asking "What took you so long?". When I had turned around, I caught a glimpse of the girl who was on the ghost before I had woken up. That was when it came to me. I still had no idea who she was, but I know that I had seen her before. She was the same girl from the art gallery in my previous dream. What she was doing in the middle of a battle, or back at my old high school, I had no idea. Though I still feel a little unsettled from seeing that old place again.
-Jurassic Park
I can see why this dream started where it had. Earlier in the day, I tried looking for my Halo Cd. When I couldn't find it, I downloaded Halo Custom Edition, thinking there might be a chance I'd run into her on one of those servers. A slim chance, but even if I hadn't found a friend, I might at least find a decent sniper server. Of course there was no luck on either count. I guess it was still on my mind when I went to bed later.
I emerged in my dream on a snowy landscape, once again, in the thick of battle. Except this was from the game. The scene was reminiscent of the one in Halo 3, where the two scarab walkers were dropped from orbit. Though there was only one in this dream, and it's attention seemed to be occupied on the opposite side of the slope. I ran up to get a better view when two zombie-like flood combat forms popped up from the side, landing in my path. I looked around for a weapon, any weapon, and found a pair of plasma swords by the body of a covenant grunt. Perfect.
With a sword in each hand (which they really should've put in the game!) I cut down the two figures before me and continued upward. More flood came scrambling up the side, mainly infection forms. I didn't stop swinging until I made it to the ridge on top. The scarab was about to be taken down by the ODSTs, but I noticed a pair of ghost hover cycles gliding away from the scene, towards a tunnel in the nearby cliff face. Thinking back to my brother's japanese hero shows, I leaped off the hill, taking out a rider with a flying side kick.
I hopped onto the driver's seat as the other ghost came to a halt a few yards away. The other rider wasn't a covenant alien. She was a human. She didn't give me much chance to get a good look, taking off like a shot into the tunnel. I gave chase, hitting the after burners to dash in after her.
Through the winding labyrinth of passages, I kept her in sight until I took a corner too hard and spun out. By the time I got back under control, she was gone. Luckily the tunnel ended soon after that, and there was nowhere else for her to have gone. The room it opened up to had a kind of catwalk or gantry in the middle, leading up to an entryway. Getting off my ride, I noticed there wasn't an easy way to climb up it. So I jumped, kicked off the nearest wall, and grabbed onto the edge, pulling myself up.
The passage way was a white alcove. It didn't look like it would lead anywhere, but when I approached, I suddenly found myself back at Bishop Amat High School. This was creepy. Aside from my time at marching band, I didn't have too many fond memories of this place. It was during that time where I had something of a crisis of faith, and it took me years to find it again.
I continued walking forward, past the library, through the quad, and around the chapel. To my right was the hallway that held my locker for a year and a half until I was expelled. Right across from the infirmary. I don't know what drew me to the door, but I opened it up expecting to find the usual beds and nurses desk. Instead, I found a bedroom, much like the one a child would have. The bed occupied the space under the window, the walls painted in a dark blue color. There were toys strewn about, plastic balls, wooden blocks, and some hot wheels cars. I picked up a red ball, squeezing it lightly in hand. Just like the kind you'd find in one of those playgrounds at Mc Donald's.
Suddenly, a female voice came from behind me, asking "What took you so long?". When I had turned around, I caught a glimpse of the girl who was on the ghost before I had woken up. That was when it came to me. I still had no idea who she was, but I know that I had seen her before. She was the same girl from the art gallery in my previous dream. What she was doing in the middle of a battle, or back at my old high school, I had no idea. Though I still feel a little unsettled from seeing that old place again.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Freefall
Everyone has dreams where they are falling. A quick google search reveals that some believe it signifies a subconscious fear of losing control, a sign that one is about to give into some sexual urges, or that one is out of step with God's will. Perhaps there are some merits to those views. But what does it mean if the fall is out the back of an aircraft?
I was sitting down in a large metal compartment, a loud humming resounding in my ears. A red light came on accompanied by the blaring of a klaxon, and I was pushed roughly toward an opening in what I assumed to be the rear. Once at the edge, I was given another hard shove before I plummeted into the darkness. And silence. After a few moments, a heads up display lit up, and I heard the wind whistling outside my helmet. I saw the clouds below before turning up to look at the stars. My transport was nowhere in sight.
I was suddenly enveloped in fog, the stars disappearing from view. I reoriented myself downwards, droplets of water splattering against my visor until I broke free from the clouds, faced with the ground. The rapidly approaching ground. I reached over for a ripcord, but didn't find it where I thought it would be. After groping around a bit, I didn't find it anywhere. An alarm started beeping steadily in my ears. It sped up rapidly, turning into a piercing whine the closer I got to the ground. I was about a hundred feet up when I thought about how much it was going to hurt. As I hit, there was a flash of white. Then everything went black.
The next thing I realized I was running. Where, or why, I didn't know. It took a few seconds for my vision to come back, and when it did, I was in the middle of a wrecked city. It was as if downtown LA was hit by an air strike. And there I was, running through the ruins with a strange rifle in hand. I could hear the sounds of battle around me, the staccato of a distant machine gun, the echo of explosions, all muffled by the half destroyed buildings around me.
I entered a doorway to find something that felt very out of place in a scene like this. A bathroom. More specifically, the bathroom I have here at the house. Except this one had a large, retracting door next to the shower. I stepped into the tub and pressed a button to open it. And as it rolled on up, I saw another soldier shooting at a very large, minotaur-like mechanical monstrosity, like something out of DOOM.
His name came up on my HUD, but I already knew who it was, even though the black helmet he wore covered his face. Randy. He was a friend of mine back from the old neighborhood, about ten years back. I haven't heard from him since, though I recall someone mentioning he had served a tour of duty in Afghanistan before leaving the Marines to attend UCLA.
And he was about to be crushed by a giant metal minotaur.
I felt my blood boil at that, my rage suddenly switching me into autopilot. I hit a switch on my rifle, dropping the barrel and replacing it with a different one hanging off the pack on my back. I then extended the stock, switched out the cartridge, and worked the bolt back to feed a new round into the chamber. Then I took aim, and opened fire. I didn't think I'd do much damage, and I didn't, my rounds pinging harmlessly against it's armor. But I distracted it enough for Randy to get running in the opposite direction. And then it came after me.
I froze for a second before my legs got the message to start moving and I vaulted out of the tub as it's hoof came crashing down in the spot I had just left. Bursting through the door, I ran, and kept running as I heard it pounding after me. A loud puff of gas sounded behind me, and an explosion rained a ton of rubble down upon my head. A large chunk of concrete slit a crack in the middle of my visor, and I was buried in the debris. In between the sparks and jagged lines of liquid crystal in my HUD, I saw my arm reach out, pushing some of the rubble out of the way. My left arm wasn't responding at all, but once I was sitting upright, the alarm went off next to my pillow, and I was greeted with the shadows of my room, and the first rays of the sun coming through my window.
Randy. Of all people, why him? He was like a big brother to me, to all the kids in the neighborhood. I haven't thought about him in years, and he suddenly appears in a dream, and in mortal danger no less. I wonder what that's all about.
I was sitting down in a large metal compartment, a loud humming resounding in my ears. A red light came on accompanied by the blaring of a klaxon, and I was pushed roughly toward an opening in what I assumed to be the rear. Once at the edge, I was given another hard shove before I plummeted into the darkness. And silence. After a few moments, a heads up display lit up, and I heard the wind whistling outside my helmet. I saw the clouds below before turning up to look at the stars. My transport was nowhere in sight.
I was suddenly enveloped in fog, the stars disappearing from view. I reoriented myself downwards, droplets of water splattering against my visor until I broke free from the clouds, faced with the ground. The rapidly approaching ground. I reached over for a ripcord, but didn't find it where I thought it would be. After groping around a bit, I didn't find it anywhere. An alarm started beeping steadily in my ears. It sped up rapidly, turning into a piercing whine the closer I got to the ground. I was about a hundred feet up when I thought about how much it was going to hurt. As I hit, there was a flash of white. Then everything went black.
The next thing I realized I was running. Where, or why, I didn't know. It took a few seconds for my vision to come back, and when it did, I was in the middle of a wrecked city. It was as if downtown LA was hit by an air strike. And there I was, running through the ruins with a strange rifle in hand. I could hear the sounds of battle around me, the staccato of a distant machine gun, the echo of explosions, all muffled by the half destroyed buildings around me.
I entered a doorway to find something that felt very out of place in a scene like this. A bathroom. More specifically, the bathroom I have here at the house. Except this one had a large, retracting door next to the shower. I stepped into the tub and pressed a button to open it. And as it rolled on up, I saw another soldier shooting at a very large, minotaur-like mechanical monstrosity, like something out of DOOM.
His name came up on my HUD, but I already knew who it was, even though the black helmet he wore covered his face. Randy. He was a friend of mine back from the old neighborhood, about ten years back. I haven't heard from him since, though I recall someone mentioning he had served a tour of duty in Afghanistan before leaving the Marines to attend UCLA.
And he was about to be crushed by a giant metal minotaur.
I felt my blood boil at that, my rage suddenly switching me into autopilot. I hit a switch on my rifle, dropping the barrel and replacing it with a different one hanging off the pack on my back. I then extended the stock, switched out the cartridge, and worked the bolt back to feed a new round into the chamber. Then I took aim, and opened fire. I didn't think I'd do much damage, and I didn't, my rounds pinging harmlessly against it's armor. But I distracted it enough for Randy to get running in the opposite direction. And then it came after me.
I froze for a second before my legs got the message to start moving and I vaulted out of the tub as it's hoof came crashing down in the spot I had just left. Bursting through the door, I ran, and kept running as I heard it pounding after me. A loud puff of gas sounded behind me, and an explosion rained a ton of rubble down upon my head. A large chunk of concrete slit a crack in the middle of my visor, and I was buried in the debris. In between the sparks and jagged lines of liquid crystal in my HUD, I saw my arm reach out, pushing some of the rubble out of the way. My left arm wasn't responding at all, but once I was sitting upright, the alarm went off next to my pillow, and I was greeted with the shadows of my room, and the first rays of the sun coming through my window.
Randy. Of all people, why him? He was like a big brother to me, to all the kids in the neighborhood. I haven't thought about him in years, and he suddenly appears in a dream, and in mortal danger no less. I wonder what that's all about.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Following my Dream Girl
I've been meaning to do one of these for awhile, but I haven't had much time over the holiday season. Even so, now that I'm actually getting down to it I find myself ill-equipped. I had a friend, a long time ago, that was good at interpreting dreams and such. But it's been years since I've heard from Tex, and I doubt she's going to be popping up again any time soon. I've tried my hand at it a time or two, but I'm nowhere near as good as she is, and it's difficult to be objective about ones own dreams. So, I guess this is it. I'll just put it down here and hope maybe the act of typing it out makes it clearer.
In the past, there was a recurring dream that's haunted me every now and again. I walk through a foggy landscape made up of an amalgamation of places I've been, mainly schools and old neighborhoods. Leading me through this landscape is a girl about twenty years old, give or take. She's not always dressed the same, sometimes in a dress, other times in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, but like the landscape, she's monochromatic. The dreams are often either black and white, or nearly so. And my guide is always silent, never speaking or making any kind of sound other than her footsteps. What's more, she wears the face of an old flame of mine. An old unrequited love that eventually evolved into a rather close friendship. Symbolic of old regrets, perhaps?
As crazy as it may have sounded, I was hoping to ask her myself. The last time I had that dream, I thought about maybe trying to work it into a lucid dream and trying to get her to talk. Though since I've came up with this plan, the dreams have, thus far, stopped. Perhaps the question was the answer afterall.
Last night, however, I had a dream that, while different, reminded me of my "gray maiden" nonetheless. It started out with me on the street by my work, the area shadowed by dark clouds overhead. It felt like I was just coming off a rough shift. I could feel my shoulders and back ache as I walked past the art gallery across the street from the theater. There were the usual paintings and sculpture work in the windows. And as I was coming up to the glass doors, there was a strange sensation. When you're in the same room with someone, input from your senses form a complete "sense" of that person, an impression of their presence that remains even when you look away from them. That impression was what compelled me to step inside.
Perhaps my dream shifted locales when I entered. The interior was different then I remembered. It looked more like a library than a gallery. Folding tables were lined up by the entrance, with a variety of people sitting at them, seemingly chatting and/or studying. Beyond that, there were bookshelves as in a library taking up the whole of the rear part of the room. To the right of that was an elevator framed by the doors to restrooms, and an exit beyond that.
When I looked over the tables again, there was a girl that stood out to me. The presence I felt from outside. From the door, I saw that she had short brown hair, and was wearing a long sleeved, white thermal shirt and faded jeans. She was reading intently from an open book that lay on the table in front of her, a pencil in one hand with a notebook at her elbow.
My legs carried me over to her of their own accord. As I approached she looked up and gave me a warm smile. She felt like an old friend. But while there was familiarity in her brown eyes, it was a face I had never seen before. She had a common prettiness, but the way she held her head gave her an air of nobility I found appealing.
She offered, and I took her hand as she greeted me, and gave her a light kiss on her knuckles, as is my custom with close friends. We chatted for some minutes, yet the subject of our discussion escapes my memory. I do recall her chiding me about my mumbling, a habit I sometimes lapse into involuntarily. Particularly when embarrassed or uncomfortable. She excused herself to the restroom, but came back out as soon as she had entered. I found that strange, but I didn't complain when she retook her seat next to me.
Our eyes locked. There was something hypnotic about her gaze, and I couldn't look away. My thoughts and feelings suddenly felt very distant as I reached over, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. I cupped her cheek gently in my hand before leaning in, our lips pressing together briefly before I came back to my senses and broke contact.
I felt absolutely mortified, certain I had made a complete fool of myself. I had expected a reproach, but instead she simply looked into my eyes with a serenity that was very unexpected. She then closed her eyes, her lips parting slightly as she leaned towards me. I met her halfway, feeling her warmth once more.
A minute or so later, we took a breath and collected ourselves. I'm sure I had a stupid look on my face. She looked infinitely more composed, the faintest of smiles curving her lips. She closed the book she had on the table and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from the back of her chair. I followed her out the door to a different scene than when I had entered. The theater was still across the street, but the skyline further along was altered, reminiscent of the high rise buildings of Hollywood boulevard before the recent construction.
The sun was setting along the horizon, bands of orange and scarlet stretching along the sky while dark gray clouds hovered above us, patches of blue peeking between them. I commented on the rain, and that I had neglected to bring my hat. She replied likewise, zipping up her sweater and raising the hood. As the rain started to fall, she turned to face me. And I opened my eyes to the sun shining through my bedroom window.
With the empty feeling that followed, I think I may have preferred a nightmare.
In the past, there was a recurring dream that's haunted me every now and again. I walk through a foggy landscape made up of an amalgamation of places I've been, mainly schools and old neighborhoods. Leading me through this landscape is a girl about twenty years old, give or take. She's not always dressed the same, sometimes in a dress, other times in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, but like the landscape, she's monochromatic. The dreams are often either black and white, or nearly so. And my guide is always silent, never speaking or making any kind of sound other than her footsteps. What's more, she wears the face of an old flame of mine. An old unrequited love that eventually evolved into a rather close friendship. Symbolic of old regrets, perhaps?
As crazy as it may have sounded, I was hoping to ask her myself. The last time I had that dream, I thought about maybe trying to work it into a lucid dream and trying to get her to talk. Though since I've came up with this plan, the dreams have, thus far, stopped. Perhaps the question was the answer afterall.
Last night, however, I had a dream that, while different, reminded me of my "gray maiden" nonetheless. It started out with me on the street by my work, the area shadowed by dark clouds overhead. It felt like I was just coming off a rough shift. I could feel my shoulders and back ache as I walked past the art gallery across the street from the theater. There were the usual paintings and sculpture work in the windows. And as I was coming up to the glass doors, there was a strange sensation. When you're in the same room with someone, input from your senses form a complete "sense" of that person, an impression of their presence that remains even when you look away from them. That impression was what compelled me to step inside.
Perhaps my dream shifted locales when I entered. The interior was different then I remembered. It looked more like a library than a gallery. Folding tables were lined up by the entrance, with a variety of people sitting at them, seemingly chatting and/or studying. Beyond that, there were bookshelves as in a library taking up the whole of the rear part of the room. To the right of that was an elevator framed by the doors to restrooms, and an exit beyond that.
When I looked over the tables again, there was a girl that stood out to me. The presence I felt from outside. From the door, I saw that she had short brown hair, and was wearing a long sleeved, white thermal shirt and faded jeans. She was reading intently from an open book that lay on the table in front of her, a pencil in one hand with a notebook at her elbow.
My legs carried me over to her of their own accord. As I approached she looked up and gave me a warm smile. She felt like an old friend. But while there was familiarity in her brown eyes, it was a face I had never seen before. She had a common prettiness, but the way she held her head gave her an air of nobility I found appealing.
She offered, and I took her hand as she greeted me, and gave her a light kiss on her knuckles, as is my custom with close friends. We chatted for some minutes, yet the subject of our discussion escapes my memory. I do recall her chiding me about my mumbling, a habit I sometimes lapse into involuntarily. Particularly when embarrassed or uncomfortable. She excused herself to the restroom, but came back out as soon as she had entered. I found that strange, but I didn't complain when she retook her seat next to me.
Our eyes locked. There was something hypnotic about her gaze, and I couldn't look away. My thoughts and feelings suddenly felt very distant as I reached over, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. I cupped her cheek gently in my hand before leaning in, our lips pressing together briefly before I came back to my senses and broke contact.
I felt absolutely mortified, certain I had made a complete fool of myself. I had expected a reproach, but instead she simply looked into my eyes with a serenity that was very unexpected. She then closed her eyes, her lips parting slightly as she leaned towards me. I met her halfway, feeling her warmth once more.
A minute or so later, we took a breath and collected ourselves. I'm sure I had a stupid look on my face. She looked infinitely more composed, the faintest of smiles curving her lips. She closed the book she had on the table and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from the back of her chair. I followed her out the door to a different scene than when I had entered. The theater was still across the street, but the skyline further along was altered, reminiscent of the high rise buildings of Hollywood boulevard before the recent construction.
The sun was setting along the horizon, bands of orange and scarlet stretching along the sky while dark gray clouds hovered above us, patches of blue peeking between them. I commented on the rain, and that I had neglected to bring my hat. She replied likewise, zipping up her sweater and raising the hood. As the rain started to fall, she turned to face me. And I opened my eyes to the sun shining through my bedroom window.
With the empty feeling that followed, I think I may have preferred a nightmare.
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