jackshoegazer: (Earth/Head/Missing)
I just woke up from this long and involved dream where I (and faceless others) broke into a Russian prison camp and rescued a bunch of people, who were apparently Americans, judging their accents.  Many of them had been there most of their lives and there were a lot of them, so it was like a mini-community there.One of them was this guy who was a prostitute, but after the rescue, fell in love with my friend Jana.  There were a bunch of orphanage kids, who my sister Candice took in.  There was this one girl who we got accepted to a Vassar-like school.  The extra weird part was that there was this sort of side dream going on most of the time which was part-news show, part-Congressional hearing, where they were discussing the cause of 9-11, new troubling evidence of a conspiracy, et cetera, and it occurs to me that the people we rescued were a bunch of the people who supposedly died in 9-11, but were really taken to these prison camps.
jackshoegazer: (Scarlette Nose)
For those Star Wars fans in my list, I present the best homemade lightsaber battle ever.  Everyone else, don't worry, this whole post won't be about Star Wars.  I promise.

Last night, I dreamt that I was at a funeral and a few people had brought guns with them.  This terribly white-trash guy had brought a big, ugly shotgun and was so impressed with the uber-futuristic machine gun that my father had brought, he asked to see it.  Once the hick had my dad's gun, he started firing off test shots.  I got up in his face, demanding that he stop that, it's a funeral, goddammit, you're gonna hurt someone.  When he wouldn't stop and kept firing more shots, I grabbed the gun, wrestled with him a bit, finally got it away from him and beat him to the ground.

When [profile] kiwikat and her hubby [profile] shevus were over the other night for enchiladas, we played a friendly and semi-competitive game of Scrabble.  Afterwards, I said, "I should take a picture of the board and post it."  Then followed the idea to start a Scrabble community called [profile] scrabbleshots where people post pictures of their end-of-game Scrabble boards.  You know, so you can see other people's games and see what interesting and unique words were used.  Get new ideas.  Memorize two letter words and q-without-u words.  You know, be kind of geeky.

We also decided that Q Without U would be a good band name.

I also had the idea for the ClogBlog, which would be a blog all about wooden shoes.  You know, the latest in clog technology, new woods and synthetic woods, care procedures, styles.  I suppose the ClogBlog could also be about clogs in your drains, but that's kind of gross and no one wants to see or hear about that.  Except things like rotten.com exist so apparently some people want to hear or see about nasty shit.  And by shit, I mean both literal and figurative.

In further geek news, we're teaching Ethan to play Dungeons&Dragons tomorrow.  I haven't played since I was about fourteen, so it's like re-learning for me.  Jacquelyn is going to run a campaign for Ethan and I.  I'm half-frightened, half-excited.  Good thing I've kept up with the D&D universe through my eternal love for Baldur's Gate II.

Before we play, I'm making egg and cheese biscuits with veggie sausage for breakfast.  Then we're watching Edward Scissorhands because, only God know how such a sacrilege occurs, neither Ethan nor Jacquelyn have seen it.

I said the whole post wasn't going to be about Star Wars.  I never said it was going to be geekiness-free.  Instead the geekiness is free.  I won't charge you a penny.  Though, I will accept gifts of paid account time.  Because that's not geeky at all.

Isn't it weird that the essential hot girl of every movie finds an opportunity to dress in something revealing/flattering/skimpy/sexy, no matter how inappropriate it is for what's going on?  Sorry, I've got Indiana Jones and the Raider's of the Lost Ark on and that girl was wearing an evening dress on a Nazi submarine.  Perhaps the word I'm looking for is 'incongruous'.

"I need some disbelief to suspend."

So, some of the geekiness of my post has been offset because I quoted Bright Eyes just now and I listened to a Decemberists CD today.  See, all that cool music and my unabashed love of all-things-geek and my general aura of irony make me so hipster I can't even deal.


Or I'm a compulsive liar and I've been making all this up and I'm really going to drink some Budweiser while I watch NASCAR tomorrow.
jackshoegazer: (Reading in the Dark)
My dreams have been insane since I moved.  Two nights ago I dreamt I got carjacked but the jacker couldn't drive stick so I told him I wouldn't tell anyone if he just got out of my car ran away.  It was a bit freaky since he had a gun pointed at me, but hey, I've been shot in dreams before and I just made the wound heal by thinking about it.

I can't remember my dream from last night even though I woke up in the middle of the night and made myself go over the plot of it while I was awake so I'd remember.  Damn tricky memory.

Eris, the youngest and most appropriately named kitten, likes to eat raw green beans.  She bats them around the house and then eats them.  Weird.  Though I once had a cat that liked szechuan chicken.

I finished Chuck Palanhiuk's Lullaby yesterday.  It was excellent, and I'd have to say, as a book, better than Fight Club.  I really don't want to like him, but I am forced to admit, that based on these two books, he is a decent enough writer with clever enouugh ideas  that I will read more of his work.  He is subversive and fun.  He writes with a Vonnegutesque simplicity.  Bastard.

Such as it is, here's my list of books I've read this year...

01) A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby

02) Schrödinger’s Cat Trilogy by Robert Anton Wilson

03) A Game of Thrones by George R.R.Martin

04) A Clash of Kings by George R.R. Martin

05) A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving

06) A Storm of Swords by George R.R. Martin

07) Spook by Mary Roach

08) The Legacy of the Beast by Gerald Suster

09) Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates by Tom Robbins

10) A Feast for Crows by George R.R. Martin

11) The World According to Garp by John Irving

12) A Man Without a Country by Kurt Vonnegut

13) Lullaby by Chuck Palanhiuk

Okay, I have a banana and I'm going to work!
jackshoegazer: (Old Shoes)
I have once again realized I haven't meaningfully updated in a while. Such as that is, I will attempt to write a real post. I swear there were things I wanted to tell you, little tidbits I had stored away, amusing anecdotes, razzmatazz, and rigmarole to regale you, my dear audience.
Perhaps if I try a reverse tactic, starting from the most recent and slowly work my way back. I can work faster if you like. I know we are a generation with Sesame Street attention spans, thus I will attempt to keep it interesting. Maybe if you knew the answer to a mystery would be at the end you would wait, would be propelled to dive into this narrative like an overzealous Olympian, um, diver.
Maybe at the end I'll tell you where the phrase "the cold shoulder" originated. Maybe I'll give you the answer to life, the universe and everything. Maybe.
Yesterday morning I dreamt that I watched my father die in a bloody shootout with Danny Glover in front of Jacqui's house. I remember the rage and pain erupting through my body, a fiery tsunami engulfing me and I screamed, "FUCK!!" to the heavens and whoever lives up there. I immediately awoke and was relieved to discover it was just a dream, but it shook me the whole day and I never quite felt at ease.
Though, after reviewing the dream in its entirety, I mined the meaning and realized that it was essentially about transcending the past and how my life is moving toward what both my mother and father were never able to provide, the structure of a healthy, loving, creative family unit. I must also stop letting my father save me, especially financially, because it will kill him (figuratively.)
That's twice my family died in a dream. The other time, my friends Brian and John, who don't even know each other, came over to visit. They left for an interval and when they returned, they were dressed as superheroes. SuperBrian and SuperJohn went on to explain that they were at a bank, in a major battle with BigEvilSuperVillains, and in the melee of chaos, my family, all except for Ethan, were killed. I got very upset, started crying and went to the basement and SuperBrian and SuperJohn couldn't understand why I was so upset.
In other news, I watched Everything is Illuminated, which was unbelievably amazing. I have a new, profound respect for Liev Schreiber and will definitely be buying both the DVD and the book, which is by Jonathan Safran Foer. "I made one for you" is all I have to say.
I watched several other movies. I finally watched Citizen Kane and realized it was the sled movie, so it was ruined for me, otherwise I might have liked it. As it is, I felt the rich, troubled, flawed, unstable entrepreneur was done better in Scorsese's The Aviator.
And I realize that Kane is a classic. It came first. It's supposedly the Best Movie Ever Made. Like the Beatles. Who I don't like much. Why? Because it seems old, antiquated, ordinary. Nothing special whatsoever.
Then I realize that this is because they did it first. Everything we have today, they did first. We've just polished and perfected it; taken the Model A and turned it into a Ferrari. Sometimes I think I'm deficient because it is hard for me to like old movies, old books, old music.
So I remember this and though I think modern people are more attractive than Neandrethals, I'm glad we had them around at the time. They made good clay which we have shaped into much better molds.
Alas, I believe I have run out of steam for this particular entry. I move in ten days. I will be packing all weekend. I promised you the answer to a mystery or two.
Well, "the cold shoulder" refers to a polite snub used in medieval France. A chateau guest who was served a cold shoulder of beef or mutton was intended to take it as a gentle hint that he had overstayed his welcome.
As you should well know, the answer to life, the universe and everything is forty-two, as explained in much detail by the late, great, Douglas Adams.
One more, a bonus, an encore if you will...
On November 24, 1858, at 10:00 a.m. by Dorset clocks, a Dorchester judge ruled against a man involved in a land battle because he was late for the 10 a.m. hearing. Two minutes later the man arrived and claimed he was on time - by the station clock in his hometown of Carlisle in Cumberland. The case had to be retried, and in 1880 Parliament ended the confusion by ordering the whole country to set its clocks by Greenwich Mean Time.
Also, have you ever noticed how much Donald Rumsfeld looks like Frankenstein's Monster?
jackshoegazer: (The future)
I dreamt last night that I was living in the year 1372 A.E. Guess what A.E. meant.

After the Events of September 11th.


I had just gotten a job in a large corporate office.  I immediately did not fit in, as I was wearing casual clothes versus everyone else's business attire.  I had a friend with me who also started that day, who also wore casual clothes.  I don't remember much that happened because my alarm went off.

I hit snooze and went back to sleep.

The dream picked up that I had accessed a secret computer terminal that was conspicuously MySpace/LJ-like and a user using the screenname of Paris Hilton was posting links to clandestine government files relating to their part in the September 11th attacks.

Then I woke up again.

jackshoegazer: (Shaman Joe)
I didn't sleep long, but I had another weird farking dream.

Take the Harry Potter universe, add the George R.R. Martin universe.  Make Lucius Malfoy the father of the Stark children.  Add in a strange, deadly force known as the BHODI, who are both a sort of zombie creature and a poison in the food.  The only thing the BHODI can't infect is green tea, or that the green tea inoculates you from infection by the BHODI.

Most of the Stark children had been killed by the BHODI, I remember particularly mourning Sansa.  Lucius, who had been a rich member of royal society, was now working in the kitchens of an old castle.  I felt sorry for him.  I sat there and told him that a year ago (thinking of the events of Order of the Phoenix) I would have done everything to kill him, but now, I felt do bad for him that I just wanted to help him.

Apparently it was a secret about green tea, because he handed me a mug and told me to drink it.  And when I was about half-way done, he said to look in the mug.  At first I didn't see anything, but after I tipped it a bit, I could see writing engraved on the inside of the mug which read: YOU ARE NEW. Then it had a few lines of information about the infection and the BHODI. I then realized that Lucius and I were part of a sort of secret society that was immune from the BHODI and were trying to fight it.

Then I woke up.

jackshoegazer: (Shaman Joe)
I need different categories for weird dreams. Because I'm tempted to say this was the weirdest dream ever, but I've said that before. Anyways, it was weird. And a bit disturbing.

The entire cast of Family Ties. Not just the main characters, but every extra they ever had, were at a sort of outdoor camping retreat. It was dark out, there was a large fire, somewhere between a camp fire and a bon fire. They were having a massive orgy.

When they got done fucking, they started pairing off for those therapeutic role-playing exercises, wherein they were pretending to be each other’s shadows and saying the most hurtful things and mocking each other viciously. Then I woke up.

I don't even begin to know where to start with this one. Weird.
jackshoegazer: (Tribal Looking Pointing Yeah!)
I woke up at half-past noon today and took a long pee. I know the guys know what I'm talking about - the five minute pee that never seems to end, and you're surprised and almost scared but kind of relieved because, well, it's relieving, and you imagine that your bladder had somehow expanded to fill your entire lower abdomen. (Do girls have those gigantic, never-ending pees?) Anyhoo...

I went back to sleep and dreamt that my father and I were sharing drug stories of our past. As we told them, we could see them, as if we were watching our memories on a large television. He told me about this time he got caught eating LSD by his mother, and what he said. (Which is odd, because we've talked about this in reality, and he never took acid.) Then he gave me two sheets of LSD and as I ate them, I found myself standing in his memory, in my grandparents front yard. As I ate the two sheets, thinking that this was a lot to eat, but it should be okay because it's weaker 70's acid, I heard a voice from the sky, or maybe a voice from my mind (the two are one in the same, I'm sure) say to me, "You have slept three hours." To which I thought, "I better wake up."

Then I woke up and looked at the clock and saw that indeed, I had slept three hours.
jackshoegazer: (777 Pyramid Eye Sun)
I just woke up from a dream in which I had taken ell-es-dee, only a few hundred micrograms. I had just peaked and realized that I didn't take enough for the grand revelation. Then suddenly I was in the past, dressed as a raver, but it was the Apocalypse. People were wandering everywhere, there was a light rain, but there was no panic or rioting. Everyone was getting along just fine, out enjoying the rain, going wherever. Several other ravers were making calls and arranging things. I packed up a large bag of cat food and left to distribute it to those who were without cat food. While walking around, I saw some friends of mine, but it was the past, so they didn't know me yet, and I remember thinking how odd it was that I could see them now, before they would ever meet me. Then I woke up.

I think this ties in with my last post. Back when I was doing the raver bit, I was definitely at my peak of extroversion. I was routinely meeting new people, both in and out of parties. I was helpful and outgoing, energetic and ambitious. The Apocalypse is a symbol of the end, and if there is no tomorrow, we will live like today is the only one we get - with complete freedom. Perhaps that is what the dream is telling me. I need that perspective, as cliche as it wounds, living each day as if tomorrow was the end. No despair, no planning for a horrible end, just being the best I can be until the very last moment. Maybe.
jackshoegazer: (conor oberst bright eyes guitar)
I had a dream I was eating a shitake mushroom with honey. It was really good. I was making food for someone who was hiding behind spare mattresses in a closet. I don't know who it was. I wonder what I'm hiding and secretly feeding?

Ever since the New Year clicked over, I've been having a large amount of disturbing dreams. I can never really remember them, besides strong impressions and single images, like a cut-scene movie flashback.

This, on top of my little depression, leaves me feeling quite disheartened when I awake. Actually, the depression is slipping away and I feel much better already, with only financial concerns dampening my spirits.

Alas, I have lemony water, so everything should be all right. But donations are welcome.
jackshoegazer: (777 Pyramid Eye Sun)
Around my birthday, I had this dream, which I will copy here...
I dreamt that I was driving a car and my passenger was Aleister Crowley. He was somehow back from the dead and I was filling him in on everything that had happened since his passing in '47. I went to pull out of the cemetery where I'd picked him up, and realized there was no passenger-side tire and I was attempting to drive on 3 wheels.
I had done a lot of pondering what this meant, especially as it pertains to my life and path. Uncle Al has been a large influence on my cosmological thought, he and Jung holding the two main pillars. Today, I was meditating as I drove home and had this revelation.

I was driving Uncle Al in my car. I drive an Infiniti, whose symbol is a triangle in a circle. My goodness, it's sort of like my tattoo.

Also, the year, of my car? Oh, it's a '93, oh Holy Thelemic Number that you are!

Was Uncle Al trying to warn me about my car falling apart? Am I relying one-tire-too-many on Al? Is the status of my car a measuring stick for my path, somehow synchronistically connected? Am I reaching for straws here? Am I babbling incoherently? Am I eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?

At least one of those questions are true, I am sure of it.

P.S. Here's an icon for my Thelemic friends :) Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Turn away.

Dec. 18th, 2005 08:49 am
jackshoegazer: (Happy Dead Solar Rays)
The only bit of my dream I can remember is that I was at a house party. I was wandering around, enjoying the festivities. At times, the house was much like my parents house. As I walked down the steps into the basement, my friend and co-author, [livejournal.com profile] hoodedvoodoo was there. Except he looked different. Close-cropped, military-haircut bleached-blond with a big walrus mustache, looking a bit like a modern Robert E. Lee. He expressed his joy in seeing me, hoping that I was at the party, but then kept his face averted from me until the dream changed.

This happened in another dream several months ago.
jackshoegazer: (777 Pyramid Eye Sun)
I just had a dream that I was in a film making class. The instructor was Michael Hammond, one of my instructors from Madison Media Institute, who also wrote a book on synchronicity and recognising and acknowledging signs in our life. We were watching a film, and took a break. I was the first back to class. When I walked in, I took off my coat and kicked off my shoes. As I prepared to sit down, Michael says to me, "Jeremy, did you go to school?" And I know he means elementary through high school. "Of course, yes I did," I replied. "It doesn't show," Michael retorted. And I know he isn't insulting my intelligence. He's making a comment on my unconventional ways, my lack of traditional brainwashing. In an off-the-cuff manner I said to him, "You should read my book." Then the rest of the class came in, so it was hard to hear what he said, but I could tell he was explaining to me that he doesn't read books, and he's only read one book all the way through and it was like a religious experience for him. Then the class did some exercise in which we were somehow morphed into the young version of famous directors and had to answer questions from their perspective. I was a young Steven Spielberg.
jackshoegazer: (Happy Dead Solar Rays)
I just woke Ethan up for school and he said, "Dad, I had an apocalyptic dream last night." Wanna hear it? Here it goes...
Apparently these aliens came to our planet because they have no vegetation. They'd never seen it anywhere in the universe. Their ship was massive, holding their entire civilization and they just traveled through space. So we gave them samples of every plant of Earth. Then, when the aliens were preparing to leave, the engines gave out and the giant alien ship crashed back into Earth, knocking us out of orbit. The Earth started moving toward the sun. Everything started to heat up, eventually the planet started to boil and burn. In a last-ditch effort to save humanity, NASA built a fleet of spacecraft and took as many people as they could off into space. Ethan was on one of the ships with myself, his mother, my roommate Brian and his son Ben, and many others. Ethan got out of his harness to go get french fries from the refrigerator and realized there was no gravity as he floated through the air. He looked out a window and saw the Earth on fire and breaking apart in the distance.
And then he woke up.

When he was three or so, he said he saw a monster in his bedroom and when he described it, I thought it sounded an awful lot like a Grey alien. I went to the library and checked out a book on aliens and showed it to him. Knowing he'd never been exposed to alien movies, television or literature before, I was quite curious what he would say. I showed him the book and he says, "Dad, that's my monster! He just stood in my room and told me things, but I can't remember what he said."

This comes from the same kid who, at the age of four, told me that when riding in the car, he stared into the sun for a long time and the Sun and Moon spoke to him and told him that he should do "strong sitting" which Ethan described as looking like this.

God, I love my kid.
jackshoegazer: (777 Pyramid Eye Sun)
Ever since I moved in with my current roommate, Brian, who was just starting his first salt-water tank, I have had a lot of dreams with salt-water fish tanks in them. I, too, fell in love with the beauty of such tanks, the pure living harmony of a self-sustaining, balanced ecosystem, my own piece of the ocean. And this has affected my dream world.

This morning, I had a dream I was at home, but it was also like a pet store, a huge wall of tanks with lots of crazy sea-creatures in them, amazing animals that just don't exist. I picked a tadpole from a tank (apparently a salt-water tadpole :P) and placed it from tank to tank, feeding off smaller fishies, until it had grown quite quickly into a young frog. Realizing he was too big for tanks anymore, I took him and quickly ran him outside, to a bridge, where I was to set him free in a lake. I tossed him off the bridge and watched as he spun and plummeted toward the lake. Unfortunately, I must not have seen it, or not thrown him far enough, because there was an outcropping of stone beneath the bridge, which he failed to clear. He smacked and bounced as he hit the rock, splitting him in half. I threw myself down the cliff face and onto the rock that had killed my poor frog. Crying, bawling the ragged tears of grief, I put his shattered body into the lake and, simultaneously wiping tears from my face as I wiped up amphibian blood from the rocks. Then I woke up.

I'm still a bit shook up about this one and haven't thought much about interpretation. Water, especially large bodies of water, like lakes and oceans, are often your emotions, or sometimes the unconscious, like Neptune, a giant ocean. Having my Moon in Gemini, I can see the use of fish tanks as a symbol of my compartmentalized emotions. Frogs, being amphibians, of both land and water, are like a bridge between the conscious and unconscious. Therefore I need to make sure I get enough momentum when using this particular frog, else I might accidentally destroy it.
jackshoegazer: (Default)
I am preparing to catch the real equivalent of some the symbolic Zzzzz before I have to catch a bus out to my roommate's work in order to get a ride back to town. Don't worry, City of Madison, I'll be back in the morning, dammmit.

It appears, thus far, that the computer in my car is fine, that the lightning strike only fried the alternator and battery, so that's getting fixed right now. I don't know when I'll actually have my car back. In the meantime, I am relying on the generosity of others and Madison's fine bus system to get me where I need to go.

Ecstatic Productions is throwing a Halloween party called The Ecstatic Horror Techno Show and the flyer is a parody of The Rocky Horror Picture Show album cover. I think I've finished the front, but must do the back probably tonight, plus I have to finish up the back of the Hellraver II flyer as well. If I have time after all that, I want to do some editing, which I have been severely slacking on since I've been inundated with flyers and magazine covers to design and car problems which keep me away from my computer. (I am using Jacquelyn's laptop to make this post, and my lovely friend Adobe Photoshop is on my PC at home.) So I present for your edification, The Ecstatic Horror Techno Show!

Oh, and I had a dream that I met a little boy with no face in an orphanage. His face was just smooth, and you could just barely see the hint of a face beneath his semi-translucent skin. I had the impression that this was a child of mine, but yet everyone's child. When I asked him if he could see, if it was blurry trying to look through this skin, two tiny holes opened up where the eyes would have been and tears started streaming out. Later, as I further explored the school/orphanage, I found Brad Pitt as a construction foreman building a skyscraper in the gymnasium.

jackshoegazer: (Happy Dead Solar Rays)
I woke up with what is euphemistically referred to as morning wood. I probably shouldn't tell you that. It's hardly news-worthy and not a rare occurrence. It's just amusing because it's the afternoon. Yet another example of third shift turning people into surreal time travelers.

The dream lingering in my mind upon waking was simple, but odd. As if you'd expect anything less. I was working at a place called Recidivism Inc. and we had these books filled with the events of people's lives. We at Recidivism Inc. will edit your life by editing the books to keep you from doing stupid things you regret later. But we weren't allowed to edit our own lives. Every time I tried to access my own book, I would get kicked out and woken up.

Now, please pardon my hasty retreat. I have to shower, pick up the wee-lad from his first day of 5th grade, deliver a CD full of posters and banners I designed for the Vinyl Madness party, and go steal my dearest Paleogoddess from her home.

jackshoegazer: (Default)
I just read that JK Rowling wanted Terry Gilliam to direct the Harry Potter movie, at least the first one. And he passed on it! WHY, oh WHY!? That would have been superb! I still want to get him to direct Complex Psyche when the time comes. YUMMY!

In other news, I had a very odd dream and the only part I remember is surely the oddest. Egads, I don't even know if I want to post it. On the surface, it's kind of disgusting, but it has good portents.

Some of you may remember a dream I had last fall where I found feces under my car seat and had to get rid of it before I could drive the car. These kinds of dreams represent a cleaning, a cleansing so that things can work properly.

So last night, I dreamt that Jacquelyn and I were on the Yucatan peninsula, visiting Mayan ruins and we were in a bathroom, sitting on side-by-side toilets, voiding our bowels. There was a woman from Kentucky there who kept trying to sign us up to participate in a country fair. And every once in awhile, Jacquelyn would reach into the toilet bowl and pull out a big piece of shit and toss it into this special drain in the corner of the room. The Kentucky woman always stopped her monologue about the fair and looked at us in disgust whenever this happened.

The dispensing-of-shit theme is all there, and makes sense considering that we're starting a new relationship and purging a lot of our bad habits and tendencies left over from our pasts. The puzzling part is the Kentuckian and the extra drain in the corner of the room. I'm still stumbling around for the meaning in those parts. Hmmm... meditate, mediate...

And in even other news, I'm going to my parents house this afternoon. I haven't been visiting them often, mostly because of monetary issues. And this time, I must admit, my motivation is a bit selfish. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad and I miss him, but this time, I need him (a mechanical genius) to take a look at a rattling sound in my car and fix it. I'm trying to be proactive about my vehicle, you know, fixing things before they go horribly wrong at the most inopportune moment. And if I can use this as an excuse to force myself to deal with my father's wife long enough to visit him, all the better.
jackshoegazer: (Default)
Strange yet fragmented dream; I went to someone's apartment, I can't remember who now, but they had rats. Not like vermin-infestation, but as pets. And not in cages, just running around their apartment.

This is where it gets a bit fuzzy; I think they also had these extremely large sea-serpent/Loch Ness Monster type creatures in a big aquarium. Somehow, it was decided, or I just decided (I get the impression that I was outraged and demanded) that they be released back into the wild.

So I find myself, carrying two sea serpents in my arms. I have to hold them by the 'scruff' of their necks, else they will bite me. They are both quite calm while I walk them to the ocean front. I release one of them, which then immediately becomes much, much bigger. The other one becomes very agitated and starts slipping from my grasp and starts snapping and striking at me.

I'm holding it with my left hand and trying to get a grip on it's neck again, and when it strikes at me I put my right hand up so it only bites my right hand. The bites aren't deep; it's teeth are very small, like quarter-inch stick pins, so the bites just sting a bit.

Somehow, it is communicated to me that the serpent needs to be released in the UK. (I think the first serpent I released told me this sort of psychically, but I don't really remember that part.) So I leap into the water and am swimming across the Atlantic carrying a sea serpent, while the first one I released leads the way.

There's another part of the dream about a boat; I think we came across a large ship along the way and there was some drama there, and I don't remember getting the serpent all the way to the UK, because I think that's when I woke up.
jackshoegazer: (Default)
I have got five minutes before I have to leave for work and suddenly felt compelled to write an entry even though I'm quite sure I don't have much to say.

My dreams the last few nights/days have been very vivid, but I've still had a hell of a time remembering them, more that a few images, anyway. They seem very profound and important, especially since they seem to center around familial relationships, which are, of course, the basic building blocks of a forming personality. Insight into my origins?

Some hippy/wicca people I met when I was 15 had me draw these sort of animal totem cards and the card I pulled for my Beginnings was the Raven and all I remember was that the Raven meant "magical and mysterious." I wonder what's so magical and mysterious about my beginnings, since they seem pretty ordinary to me.

I'll give you a topic:

Is the material Universe a mistake? Does it exist for the healthy purpose of expression of the Universe's nature, or is it a mistake, a trap, a prison, that we have fallen into and must escape? Should we be concentrating on the here-and-now, or applying our spiritual faculties to escape this gnostic prison?



jackshoegazer: (Default)

February 2012

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