Stinking Pete claims his is when he’s violated by loveable alien Alf who then proceedes to tell everyone what had happened. This causes many people to point and laugh at him and then he gives birth to alien babies from his anus.
Jimmy the Bollix says for him it’s when his mother is killed before his very eyes and the people who do it promise to pursue him to the ends of the earth to kill him as well. He spends years on the run and eventually thinks he’s safe but in the end they find him.
Splodge says it’s when he’s forced to audition for Boyzone on the Late, Late show, except instead of dungarees he’s wearing a pink g-string and all his ex-girlfriends are in the audience.
For me it’s when I stay in my grandfather’s house and I wake up in the middle of the night. In the room there are two beds and as I turn over I can see my grandfather’s skelton, still covered in skin and bone, lying on the bed. The light coming through the window makes all the bloody tissue glisten and then, slowly, he turns his head towards me, his eyes staring right at me, and I can hear the chatter of his skeleton teeth but no words come from his mouth.
Another one is when I’m about five or six. Outside my window is a big tree and to the right of the tree is the garage of the house where my mother is working on fixing a bicycle. I can see the light shining out. It’s yellow and warm. Then, at the bottom of the tree, I see the light reflect on the eye of a tiger (no, really) and it’s moving slowly towards the garage. I try to shout but I just can’t make a sound. Then I generally wake up.
Recurring dreams. What’s yours?
Getting shot in an alley in Brooklyn.
More of a recurring memory than nightmare.
Long story.
Don’t leave me hanging…
Well, I’m still here.
But despite the industrial amounts of mind-bending drugs and gallons of alcohol, my mind does, in times of unconsciousness, sometimes bring me back to that unfortunate incident.
The dream within the dream, the nightmare which never ends like in a pub with two mirrors facing each other and the infinite reflections. Being chased by cunts, being caught and then waking up to find that you’re still on the run, they’re still after you. Doesn’t happen anymore, they must have picked on some other fucker.
Ive got two,always the same……
Trying to punch someone whilst trying to get out of a dodgy situation and I can never get my arms to throw,as if their tucked under my shoulders….a bit like having dead arms when you least need them….another is simliar,having a machine gun (always a black plastic looking Tommy gun type!).. when I squeeze the trigger the bullets fire about 5 feet in front of me and have no velocity what so ever..(yeah,I know queue the jokes about impotency etc,har har !…)
Basically in both dreams Im fucked big time,causing me to wake as if Ive been tied up and trying to free myself….leaving me exhausted and takes at least 10 minutes to shake off the feeling.
where the feck are my happy dreams ??….I want feckin happy dreams………
Damn you Twenty – if it comes back tonight I’ll send Nonny into your dreams. In a G String and stilettos ( you, not her )
Traffic on the M50. It’s an absolute nightmare.
Dream Contest sunk : Priest cancels nun beauty contest
united winning the league over and over and over again…….the sheets are sticky some mornings…..it’s a lovely dream that keeps coming true……..
I’ve gone back at university. It’s the end of the year, exams in a week and I suddenly realise that-yet again-I’ve failed to attend any lectures.
The other one is the insert-terrifying-situation, trying to yell and not being able to make any noise.
Generally, I’m having to nonchalantly poop in a toilet in the middle of a room where there’s a party going on and some guy insists on engaging me in a conversation.
Then of course, there’s the one where I am being chased by some bad guys who are going to kill me when all of a sudden I remember that I can fly – and then I do but there are a lot of hydro wires I have to avoid before I’m free.
I’m somewhere in a massive room. Zoom out. The room is the universe and I am very tiny by comparison and the scale of it-to-me suddenly strikes me. It’s the dream equivalent of that cinematic effect where the camera zooms in to a close-up and the background appears to move away simultaneously. Except this is the whole universe and I’m just me.
Then I wake up trying to breathe and not scream and afraid to close my eyes again.
I don’t like that dream. It really gives me the screaming heebie-jeebies.
Jeannie, maybe you saw Bunuel’s ‘The Phantom of Liberty’ as a very young child:
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=A24ABgDuR4k&feature=related
For mine I’m in a play and I haven’t bothered learning my lines. It’s just before I’m due on and I running around behind the stage trying to find a copy of the script.
I know it’s easy enough to analyse,but it’s still annoying how often I have it.
The pooping I could handle. It’s the subsequent wiping that would make me uncomfortable.
I don’t do recurring dreams, but I DO have wee follow on ones, like the old Mini-series of yore…
The last one had me in trouble for killing Geovanni Trappattoni, I didn’t actually do it, I stood by and watched. Was caught by text message evidence.
I dream of the heady old days when bad spelling and grammar were the sole preserve of the commenter rather than the poster. Skeleton you shoddy cunt.
Coming back from holidays I see a new side to Jo over the last number of days. So presumably someone is going to have a dream about fingering Jo while she assists in your wank….because it is healthy
mines a pint of stout and a double jameson, thanks.
Boooooo, manuel. Booooooo.
Maith an buachaill Manuel
I don’t like the dreams where you think you’ve woken up but you haven’t.
There’s a split second where you know its a dream but can’t force yourself out of it and when you do it only turns out that’s a dream too.
Like when Kerry Katona got cancer.
Kerry Katona is a cancer
The Irish team are home from China, 2bronze 1silver.
A horse with dope.
A load of dopes without hope.
I am living in a town with small white picket fences, the whole place moves at four times normal speed. Suddenly giant black whales come flying from the sky and the largest one opens it’s mouth and plunges towards me. As i cower in fear and its huge mouth looms I wake up terrified……Anyway what’s this post about recurring dreams or something?
I had a recurring dream once.
That i am responsible for a software project that continually “evolving”, growing larger and getting ever later, in fact it never gets delivered, it just keeps getting developed and refined and the budget grows … Sorry, even in sleep i seem to lack any imagination.
Manuel: Brave move there,putting Utd and masturbation in the same sentence..does the phrase ‘Shooting Fish in a Barrel’ mean anything to you?
Jesus, you’re all fucked up. But especially Twenty. Jesus, Twenty! So what’s the tiger? And how can you absolve yourself of the responsibility for it? You couldn’t protect her Twenty, you were only a child. It wasn’t your job.
And are you saying booooo, or Boooo-urns?
Anto – …..
I’ve had two – one was before I could drive, being in the car with my mother, suddenly she’d disappear and I’d have to drive. In one we ended up at the zoo, she reappeared, and I was not longer in the car but sitting on my brother’s tricycle. Obvious symbolism, eh? Strangely my sister had the same dreams, apparently. And we both stopped having them once we learned to drive. Though while I was just learning, I dreamed I had to drive a giant red motor bike belonging to my husband – oo-er!
And the others are all sorts of pregnancy/labour/baby dreams. Sometimes unpleasant, children in trouble ones. But I know what this is about too.
Coming up to my leaving cert I had a recurring dream about the history exam. I knew the material inside out – but as I hadn’t yet learned how to do the joindey-up writing the chances of me writing five 4-page essays were slim. As a result I was putting myself under a lot of pressure over it.
The dream involved me waking up in the middle of the night to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. I would stumble from my bedroom to be greeted by a platoon of SS officers, in full uniform, lined up on both sides of the landing and down the stairs. On the small “middle landing” sat Hitler, sulking over something.
I would step over him and head on to the kitchen thinking “I’m sure that was Hitler”. On the way back upstairs I’d stop and ask him “Excuse me, you’re… are you Hitler?”. He’d confirm that he was, to which I would respond “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing sitting on our stairs?”
His reply was always the same:
“They won’t let me invade Poland… and if they change their mind, I’m going to hold my breath until my face turns blue and I faint”
Looking for fish. I’m always dreaming about looking for fish. Walking by rivers, lakes, ponds whatever looking for fish.
I sometimes look it up in those dream books when browsing in a book shop but it’s never there, and they’re a load of wank anyway.
I cant usually remeber my dreams 10mins after waking ,but the punching and attacker but your arms feeling weak/weighing a tonne occurs now and again,
And the flying dream but when actually concentrate on flying my altitude drops but i never crash… pass the prozac..
Looking for fish. I’m always dreaming about looking for fish. Walking by rivers, lakes, ponds whatever looking for fish
Does water in the dream not usually mean you are thirsty or bursting for a piss?
Besides a couple of nasty ones that I remember well.. very similar to Twenty’s skeleton one, actually, with my dead Da lying in bed while my (at the time) alive Ma was sitting up reading her book (that dream sent a horror up my back that I will never forget). I was trying to explain that he was dead but she just didn’t believe me.
Anyhoo, besides that, most of my dreams (when I remember them, which is rarely, damn the demon weed) tend to be mildly pleasant adventures or just goofs. The geography or rachitecture tends to be very vivid, like a huge room or an empty city…
rachitecture – peace walls in NI?
Leave Kerry Katona alone.
Gladly, the skanky scouse tart.
Anyway, I used to think that dreams were all bollocks, not related to anything just imagination running riot. However I had a rather involved dream about not being able to pay a resteraunt bill last night, which is probably because my Laser card went on the blink yesterday. So the question I have reading these dreams can you all see why you are dreaming what you are. Twenty and Supergrover’s similar dreams must have some significance surely?
Maybe we are not all so different. Same fears, same basic biology, same gene pool, same dreams.
I’m standing in the middle of O’Connell Street tied to the spire.
On each side of the street are thousands of star wars/nazi type drones all marching in formation in black uniforms. In front of me there is a 10 man firing squad. They raise their guns and shoot and instead of waking up like in a decent nightmare…I am on the ground dead looking up at the nazi drones. At that point I always realise I’m dreaming and just wait it out.
Other war/international incident reoccurring dreams involve the battle of the Somme as played out in the field behind our house at home, or soldiers with guns knocking down every door in the street until they finally get to mine and I have to hide under a table.
I think in a past life I may have been involved in a bit of violence. hmm.
Gladly, the skanky scouse tart.
From the Fandabodzi nation that gave us The Krankies, Lena Zavaroni, Lulu and worst of all Sheena Easton ? Glasshouses !
Maggot I seem to remember you had a pleasant holiday in Jockland.
Lulu was a right skank in her day , my ma played netball against her and had some choice words to say.
I used to have recurring dreams about sheena easton too maggot.. but that was a long time ago
John Braine unwittingly admitted; ‘Looking for fish. I’m always dreaming about looking for fish. Walking by rivers, lakes, ponds whatever looking for fish.
I sometimes look it up in those dream books when browsing in a book shop but it’s never there, and they’re a load of wank anyway.’
Hmm. You wouldn’t happen to be married to a woman and you aren’t sure whether thinghs are quite right in the old marital chambers by any chance?
Hur. John can’t find it. The ‘fish’ I mean. Hur.
Anything that has been anywhere near that crazy pompous purple midget – yuk!
That I was the first holder of an Irish passport to be sent into space. The rocket was blasting off from Bunratty, a place I have never been to but know is famous for having a pub called Durty Nellys (subs, please check). I was in my spacesuit and perspiring heavily and so, even though the countdown was to commence at any moment, I undid my harness, exited the capsule, slithered down a ladder and ran off in search of a refreshing bath. Along the way I somehow obtained a box of chocolates, a big box, golden and with a ribbon done in a bow and a silk flower glued to the top. Anyway, after dashing around for a bit, I went haring through the revolving door of a very grand country hotel, still in my spacesuit, and slid to a halt at the reception desk, where – amazingly – I was able to use the chocolates as a bargaining chip to persuade the manager to evict a couple of guests from an outdoor hot-tub. And then the marvellous sensation of undoing all those zips and collars and cuffs and fastenings and plunging in to the warm and bubbly water – though it turned out to be unexpectedly deep and when I looked up I could see the surface 20 or 30ft above with the sunlight glistening on it. I went up for air after what seemed like an eternity and there was a hotel flunky bearing a silver tray with a pot of coffee and some cucumber sandwiches and my mobile telephone, which was flashing with a call from Gallowglass who wanted to know what I thought I was doing and to get back to the office quickly.
Icedink: correct about Durty Nellys
as for the rest of it….mental..
Maggot another dream crushed by your intimate knowledge of the vertically impaired.
At 5’1″ sheena is a middle aged midget. We only had a 14″ portable telly at the time and this i believe made her appear to be normally sized.
I have regular dreams where I’m back on cigarettes, but arguing that it doesn’t count because it’s the weekend/I’m at a football match/they’re only Rothmans.
I’ve had the dream so often that in the dream now I actually know it’s a dream – even while I’m smoking I’m thinking ‘it’s ok, this is just a dream’.
At 5′1″ sheena is a middle aged midget.
She towers over the prat formerly known as Pillock
Rothmans ? Been years since I saw them let alone smoked one – the healthy ciggy.
Twenty. Is it possible to get a guest dream interpreter to join the link? I think even i can state with somne clarity that all the possible male writers dream are to do with sex,and would even go so far as to state that Jo’s red motor bike one may also be about sex. But alive and dead people is the same room, and the astronaut one….no idea. We need an expert!!
Where is Morgor ? He could help Anto – if he’s not off sniffing around Sheena.
Is Sheena still alive, the last I saw her she was on Miami Vice, and that was a few years ago?
Chewing glass would be mine.
Anto, I did a post about a dream I had, and a guy called the Dream Wizard from http://www.thedreamwell.com turned up and made a comment, so he’d have a field day here.
“I dream of the heady old days when bad spelling and grammar were the sole preserve of the commenter rather than the poster. Skeleton you shoddy cunt.”
PP, there’s a guy whose surname is Skelton in our office and the Revenue have him down as Skeleton.
I reckon they must have done it as a joke, they can’t possibly have thought that was his real surname.
I tend to have varying horrifying nightmares on a regular basis, but the recurring dream is of suddenly being in a public place with no idea how I’ve got there and having no shoes, but having to walk on rough ground, and getting cut to ribbons in the process. I’ve been having that dream every few weeks for about a decade.
I rarely remember my dreams, but one that I’ve had for about the last twenty years involves me walking around Dublin pointing skyward and telling whoever is listening, that Dublin has the greatest amount of cranes per capita than anywhere else in the world. Interesting stuff eh? My thoughts aren’t even worth a penny.
Matt:That isnt a dream,you actually do that…
and by you i mean me..
Luckily i dont live there anymore or i’d be in a bouncy room…
couple of times i had dreams where i was living a cushy lotto-winner lifestyle. seems normal but very pleasant in the dream. then the alarm goes off…
It’s ‘fandabidozi’ Maggot. ‘Fandabodzi’ is an old Persian practice whereby a man only achieves gratification if his wife is dressed as an underage boy.
I spelled it for the target audience Lost Soul!
None,thankfully.
I haven’t had a wet dream in years, they were great.
Is there anyway I could make myself have a wet dream?
Think Seven of Nine, Nigella Lawson, Jodie Foster, Kate Beckinsale and Kate Moss as you drift off to sleep Peadar – works every time – for a friend of mine.
Almost all my dreams involve me in a gameshow being asked questions about the previous day.
“Think Seven of Nine, Nigella Lawson, Jodie Foster, Kate Beckinsale and Kate Moss as you drift off to sleep Peadar – works every time – for a friend of mine.”
Friend, eh?
When I was young and at the age for wetties, I would never imagine, or dream of, famous chicks off telly or whatever. Also, re regular self-gratification around the same age, I would try to get off on that type of thing and would mostly succeed (Damart catalogues could set me off for jaysus sake) but when nearing blurt time, I would segue off into stuff about me mate’s ma across the road, and other stuff like that.
Those images I now refer to as Sigmund’s stash after the famous Freud as they were what really got me off, no matter how much I tried to focus on normal stuff like blondes off telly and stuff.
And, oddly enough, Miss Piggy was there in very early awakening of the hormones.
Too much info?
Way too much, SG.
I dreamt last week that one of the girls in the office asked what I was doing at lunchtime, said “my uncle’s house down the road is empty” and kissed me.
This girl is married, I don’t know her particularly well, and she’s by no means the best looking girl in the office.
She sat next to me in the kitchen on Monday and I couldn’t think of anything to say to her.
Damart catalogues
Classy and easier to manage than the Littlewoods version!
Is there anyway I could make myself have a wet dream?
stop wanking.
I would segue off into stuff about me mate’s ma across the road, and other stuff like that.
People you’ve met in the flesh are generally sexier than an image on the screen to be fair. Though even a picture of monica beluci . . . ahem anyway.
The only recurring dreams i can think of are sex dreams with aforementioned people i’ve met, rotten teeth dreams (something to do with stress), sluggish leg and arm dreams (unpleasant) and dead relative dreams (depressing).
Oh, and my personal favourite, zombie dreams (bar the sex ones)!
I play so much resident evil and watch all the day/night etc of the dead films that some of it’s bound to stick.
They’re not scary, just fun.
The bike dream wasn’t about sex really, it’s just funny because it seems like it was.
Actually your car, or any four walled structure is always yourself.
John, I wonder would fish be money?
I don’t see why people get so het up about dream interpretation and rant about it. Our sub conscious works in symbols, end of story. Dreams are how we process our days, and fears and the things we know that we don’t realise we know. It’s not mystic.
Jung once found a woman’s bowel tumour through interpereting a dream she’d had about a locked gate in a walled town. The doctors hadn’t found it though she’d had health problems and had had loads of tests. They found it with directions from her dream!
You’re shitting me Jo..
Tinman 18- get that man online straight away…
It usually involves me being naked and running through a housing estate while all my teeth fall out.
More of a memory than a recurring dream.
(joking)
Lottie says:
‘It usually involves me being naked and running through a housing estate while all my teeth fall out.
More of a memory than a recurring dream.’
You wouldn’t happne to be one of the Connors from Mullingar, by any chance? Were you armed with a bill-hook?
@Batty – Do I know you? :) Probably not me though – my weapon of choice is a cheese grater.
Is there anyway I could make myself have a wet dream?
stop wanking.
I don’t wank that much any more. Well at least I don’t think its that much.
But seriously, wouldn’t it be great to be able to have the type of dreams you want, when you want. Dreams seem so real when there happening.
I’ve never had a wet dream about a celebrity, its always about someone I know
I had a freaky dream once where I was Orland Bloom. Terrifying stuff!
Orlando Bloom! She’s a ride..
morgor said;
>rotten teeth dreams (something to do with >stress), sluggish leg and arm dreams
>(unpleasant)
Had both of these for years.
The rotten teeth was more to do with a really bad experience with a dentist (the father of a famous radio DJ) in my college years.
I would find myself choking on a dislodged filling, only to wake up to a mouth FULL of dislodged teeth, still in a dream, and wake up again but still in a dream. Repeat many times.
By the time I really woke up I would be hyperventilating and in a cold sweat.
The latter I still have sometimes.
Trying to run away from something but there is no strength in my legs, like running in a swimming pool.
The wierdest was the James Bond movie.
Pierce Brosnan, Judy Dench and all, and it was real, (i.e. I was in it not watching it), but there was still a film crew hanging around. Title credits at the end and all.
What was wierd was that there was a complete, perfect repeat a few weeks later, during which I kept telling myself what happens next.
My friend who had a scary, beardy dad used to dream that he was one of the three little pigs, and he was paralysed, like the swimming pool legs, and couldn’t run away when the wolf came.
I remember playing Civ2 for about 8 hours straight when I was 15 and then dreaming about it for another 8 hours when I went to bed.
Ugh, that makes me think, dreams about work are horrible.
Isn’t the Nintendo Wii brilliant?
-Now we can have dreams about playing video games, and a concurrent wet dream under the sheets as you wiggle and waggle your ahem ‘joystick’
Apparently there’s a method of controlling dreams, but it involves alot’ve OCD type behaviour in normal day-to-day waking life – stuff like flicking the light on/off everytime you enter a room, or looking at text or an lcd display every hour or so. The point is that things dont happen ‘suddenly’ in dreams so if you switch a light on and it takes a while going from dim to bright, you are aware you’re dreaming and can do whatever you want. Same thing with text and lcd displays – the text moves around the page and the display is jumbled when dreaming, making you aware you’re dreaming.
Thats my defense for the court case anyway – “I thought I was dreaming your honour”.
my grandfather’s skelton, still covered in skin and bone, lying on the bed.
Jaysus, Twenty, how can a skeleton be covered in skin and bone?
My Grandfather’s Red Skelton, the American comedian (1913 – 1997)
Childhood recurring nightmare was being chased by one of these…
http://classic-car.y2u.co.uk/Photo_caq/Ford_Capri_02.jpg
Also had cool dreams like flying dreams, jumping in one go from the top of the stairs to the bottom, which made it try it once.
Also a recurring dream of a 747 crashing into our back garden but only our back garden. The we made cups of tea for all the injured in our kitchen.
I have this recurring dream that I get terrible sunburn on my cock. The rest of my body is fine, but I’m stinging like fuck down there.
I’ll have to stop knocking one out after applying Deep Heat to the Missus’ back just before bed.
Missing flights is my recurring – those 6am red-eye ones. And sometimes it aint no dream. I was not made for pre-noon travel arrangements…..
I have banned myself from red-eye flights. It’s not civilised.
Ugh, those 4 am wake ups. I always feel like ‘just cancel the holiday, I don’t care, let me go back to sleep’.
They’re really bad when you’ve been up drinking all night on a stag and had to take a 45 min taxi ride followed by an hour security queue a Berlin Schonfeld.
And then the bastards at security wrench that can of red bull from your white-knuckled grasp and your tongue furs over again in seconds.
For years after I first became a vegetarian I had dreams about eating a Big Mac. Same thing when I quit using drugs and had dreams about blowing rails.
Not being able to find a clean toilet in a dark, wet, industrial, clangy landscape. It starts off with one like the one Ewen McGregor falls into in Trainspotting and then they get worse throughout the dream.
I had a horrible recurring nightmare as a child. It was just a switchback between two things. One was all jaggedy black and white lines like horizontal lightening and barbed wire moving about: and all discordant, unbearably loud scraping, clanging metal and violin sounds. Then it would switch to a bit where it was just a big peach colour. Nothing there just the colour peach and soft ss sounds. This started out as a relief from the clangy, jaggedy lines but eventually became worse because I knew the lines were coming back and the peachy anticipation would get unbearable.
I only had that dream once as an adult. I’ve always hated the colour peach.
Whatever about giving up drugs, how could you give up meat? How!?
I’m very happy without meat – not everybody;s that carniverous! If you are, it proabably suits you though.
pcb – wow, that’s different, You’re not one of those people who smells in color and that sort of sensory minglery stuff, are you?
Jesus PCB, that’s pretty mental stuff.
I often have dreams in the morning after I hit snooze on morning Ireland on Radio 1. It makes for crazy fucking stuff, a mix of herds of Red Cows in a traffic jam and Barack Obama drinking the last of the milk out of my fridge.
Try it some time.
“For years after I first became a vegetarian I had dreams about eating a Big Mac. Same thing when I quit using drugs and had dreams about blowing rails.”
I going to pretend that I’ve given up having sex with Maggie Gyllenhall.
- Maggie
+ Jake
Peadar, I know it’s twisted, but I’d take the drugs over the meat to take away my appetite anyday. It’s been 10 years since I’ve had either.
Holemaster, next I’m going to be having dreams about smoking cigarettes. My dreams are fairly boring, I must say.
Jo, no. I don’t have anything remotely unusual like that. I’m pretty much as dull as a 1 Watt lightbulb when it comes to weird powers, although if it wasn’t for me concentrating hard every morning the sun wouldn’t come up. That’s the truth. My gift is a burden, I’ll admit it, but at least I don’t think in purple otherwise the sun would be bathing us all in shades of violet to wisteria and we’d all have spooky eyeballs.
Holemaster – when I was a child! I haven’t had it in years! Last time was at the halls of residence in uni when I was living in a horrible peach-coloured room. Peach -bleugh bleugh bleugh! If I had my way it would be James and The Giant Nectarine.
Twenty, you want to have dream sex with Jake Gylenhall? Well, I can’t say I blame you. Though that scene in Brokeback Mountain was a bit unlubricated, wasn’t it?
I meant Holemaster meant Jake. Not Maggie. Although they do look very similar. Weird scrunched-up faced twats.
I get the flying one as well, except that i’m in a slouched down in an armchair position without the chair. I also can’t manouever unless I don’t think about it. Then I can until I think about it again
Also all the forgeting the lines, answers to exams, and what have you but the worst is the one where I have to take a dump but every toilet, and I mean out of dozens of public washrooms is overflowing with shit and totally unusable. Not even hoverable above usable.
Sorry to # 97, I didn’t see your similar entry until after I’d posted.
You weren’t sucked into the telly when Eraserhead was on? A bit like the girl from the Poltergeist… or Mike TV.
Mine involves being at a party in some US city. We’re in a penthouse, and there’s a commotion on the street below, way down. Like we give a fuck! Everyone I care about is at the party.
Well, turns out the commotion is zombies, wouldn’t you know it. And you know how fast that infection spreads, like in the movies. Next thing you know, we’re fighting them off at the door, but there’s too damn many.
The dream ends with me throwing myself off the balcony having had to kill the zombie incarnations of everyone I care about.
Bad days tend to start with that dream.
Mine is going up an impossibly steep hill in a car with my friends. I’m not driving and I’m terrified the car is going to fall backwards down the hill at an increasing velocity, killing us all, and we won’t even see the end coming because we’re going backwards. But I am even more afraid that we’ll get to the top of the hill, because I know the building at the top is home to the scariest and most indestructible psycho villain ever, who makes every serial killer and movie bad guy look like Jesus. I can’t tell them to stop the car and I can’t explain why I don’t want to go to the top.
Of course when we get there I find myself in the evil guy’s lair. It’s a round building with one corridor that spirals inwards to a core of pure evil and the walls are decorated with children’s crayon drawings of happy families outside their houses but all of them with something subtly and disturbingly wrong: the odd person with a demon face, etc.
Although my friends have disappeared I’m dragging my younger cousin by the hand trying to get out and my only thought is that I have to keep her safe from the psycho who we can hear following behind us and singing a made-up movie-madman song to himself. Then I wake up.
Only had it a few times, always when I’m really stressed. The rest of the time I’m in charge of my dreams and if I’m not having a good time I can rewind my dream like a video and make it better. Or, you know, just fly away.
I had one last night where I was wearing brown cord head to toe including my shoes. I don’t know what that means but either i have too much brown or too much cord. But hardly ever wear cords. Must be the brown.
I’m a bit locked now so expect other stupid posts.
The gun is jammed when you want to pop a cunt.