★ Recurring Themes
★ Spiders!
★ Rolly Chair Jousting to the Death
★ Rolly Chair Jousting to the Death
★ My Narrow Escape …
★ Forging a Path Home
★ A Return to Oneironautics Soon
I often have these dreams where it feels as if my subconscious mind is reaching out to my conscious mind through a metaphor overlayed in a dream. One example is a dream where my house and room was filling up with water until it got very close to touching the electrical sockets. My mind seemed to be conveying that my brain was filling up with useless junk that would be damaging unless cleared out. At the time, I was experiencing a wide variety of symptoms, leading me to suspect a progressive neurological disorder.
Recurring Themes
A few of my dreams have some recurring themes. One of these themes is constriction, manifested by restricted movement and circumstances. This is sometimes manifested by a feeling that I’m in a situation where I can’t move, but for no apparent reason, yet it’s not like I’m trying to figure out why either. Very strange.
Another theme is witnessing some phenonema that visually defies reality, which I think signifies some confusion or glitch in my mind. A brief example was when I had a dream I was with a friend of mine who has Lupus. For some reason, I was in her room while she was sleeping. Don’t ask. It was pretty dark and I tried to read a journal that was laying on the floor. The pages started spazzing out. I couldn’t turn the pages or control anything and they were bugging out like bad collision detection in a 3D engine. Stuff that should not really happen in a dream. They started schizing out and glitching around the room. I couldn’t read anything.
Spiders!
Another recurring theme from my dreams will occur when I get bit by a spider IRL. Or at least that’s what it feels like. It’s happened a handful of times. I’ll feel a prick and wake up in a flash. I have a mote of arachnophobia and this is the rationalization that my mind presents to me. I immediately launch out of bed at a full sprint, screaming. It’s hilarious actually, though it has mostly only happened when I am at home alone. The few times it has happened, I discover a spider bite the next day. One of my native american friends once told me that a spider bite is a bad omen, as that particular spider god is a trickster.
Rolly Chair Jousting to the Death
In what turned into perhaps the most amusing dream I ever had, I ended up jousting Taylor Swift on office chairs at the wildest party ever. Hosted at my highschool, no less. It was quite the rager. Everyone was turnt out. No really, there were some seriously freakish happenings in those familiar hallways, but it was all fun. Also, someone was fucking someone on roller skates, just rolling along. Like that video … with the hoverboard … u know … uhhhh, yeh “that one.” It was wierd. The girl was not amused this guy asked him to do it, in front of everyone … but she did. It was really wierd, but she was already blowing him in front of everyone. She gave him this look, but it wasn’t one of shame; she just seemed discontent that it wasn’t enough. Hey, it wasn’t me doing that in my dreams LMAO. I just straight up started shaking my head in disbelief.
Hey – I’ve had some pretty fucked up dreams OK? I wasn’t even lucid in this one. One of the few times I went lucid, I ended up fucking Mystique from X-Men in a three-way. Best sex ever LMAO. I was like hittin it from behind and then she looks back at me and gives me this devious grin. Then she morphed blue for a second and turned into a blonde. Then she grabbed my ass and squeezed, so I pulled her hair. The other girl seemed a bit jealous.
And that, my friend, is why threesomes just never work out.
I woke up like right before I could ask her if she could swap to a red head…… Jesus my mind is pretty fucked up, huh? But hey, take and take all you want from my life. YOU CAN NEVER TAKE MY DREAMS!
Anyways, somehow, I found myself in a life or death joust against Taylor Swift in rolly chairs. It was this long hallway. There was a line for the keg or something, so there were lots of people standing in front of lockers. It was intense. She stared me down as we raced towards each other in a game of chicken, a la High School High, but with rolly chairs. Actually, that movie is perfect, this dream was just as debaucherous, minus the pervasive corruption.
Anyways, who won? Me or Tay Swift? I chickened out at the last minute … c’mon, I had to let her win, right?
My Narrow Escape …
From Columbian Drug Lords
And then there was that dream in early 2015 where I floated down an amazonian river that was drying out, while smuggling cocaine in my blood, bound to container chemicals in my blood. Little nano-buckyballs of Colombia’s finest snow or something. It’s not an economic means of smuggling any drug, trust me.
My friend was doing just fine. Yet, for me, my little float down the lazy river of fishscale was not going so well. I was barely moving. There was too much friction. I felt the water receding from the river. This dream feels like another metaphor for the state of my mind and body. There is something very not right about my health and I keep telling people, but no one realllly fucking cares. It’s hard for me to see a doctor and then they always try to treat me for depression, for which prescription medications seem to make things worse, in my case. There is something my brain needs and it’s not getting it. I think it’s exercise or circulation or some shit, but there’s always so much bogus bullshit in my life. You know what would be effective treatment for depression? Not dealing with all this bullshit. “Seasonal Affective Disorder” my ass.
Anyways, we finally got to this drug lord, who threatens me with a drill to the dome. I mean straight up Scarface-style gangster torture. The guy really got his fucking point across. He was not joking about it, whatever it was. I barely managed to wrestle my skull from his grasp and as I did the drill bit scraped by, tearing through the skin a bit.
I backed up, trying to get myself space, frantically looking for an exit, expecting this dude to start chasing after me. He doesn’t immediately lurch for me and instead cooly explains that he was just trying to make sure I was scared to die. Apparently, that’s just standard operating procedure for HR at Pablo Escobar Enterprises. They really fucking want to know and they are willing to kill you to find out. WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT! I never thought I could be tortured for the purpose of coercian by my subconscious. Jesus Christ. The experience was so visceral that I still wince when I think about the drill scraping by my skull.
Forging a Path Home
Anyways, the original dream I was describing started off when I wandered over towards the land on my next-door neighbor’s property, which is visible from my bedroom window. Everything was dark and it appeared to be 2:00am. The house was missing, but in it’s place, there was an empty space the size of an empty grave. In it, I found a dead body. I don’t know who it was, but I think it was a metaphor for myself or my own body.
I was a bit scared, though not terrified. I was afraid of being caught for something or being caught up in whatever circumstances this dead body was tied into. I felt compelled to leave, though I wasn’t running. I began walking down the hill in my backyard and then up the next hill, which was forrested. It was still very dark.
As I approached the bottom of the second hill, which leads to the college track that I used to jog as a kid, it suddenly became daylight. And as it did, I felt like I tumbled through a rift in space and time. I landed on another hill, though I was now somewhere completely different, very far away. It was as if I had warped through some tear in space, which is why I feel it was a metaphor for my brain. There seem to be sections of my brain which are completely inaccessible or turned off.
As I warped through this rift, the foreign hill I suddenly found myself on became very steep and I tumbled down onto the side of a road that appeared to be in a rural area. It was very bright outside, daytime and well past morning. I realized I was somewhere entirely different. I didn’t recognize the road and felt I was in a completely different state. For some reason, I felt close to Chicago, Illinois, but again, it was rural.
The dream informed my consciousness that it was impossible for me to return. And besides, the hill was very steep. I felt compelled to move forward. I kept walking, following the road, but my options only became more limited, as the road quickly turned into dirt. Yet, the path led on and on, but no signs of civilization or people, just open fields, woods and dirt roads.
I eventually got to where I could proceed no further. I feel like my dream-self was exploring distal regions in my brain only remotely connected. Somewhere I had long forgotten. It was becoming very dark and the path I was on becoming overrun with vegetation. I needed a machete, but no such luck.
I eventually reached a fork in the path. It was now nighttime. I could go no further and had to choose between going left or right. One of these paths was full of entangled plantlife and much darker. I believe this path went leftwards, but I honestly can’t remember. I could barely see down it. The other option wasn’t much better, but seemed a bit more clear.
I was leaning towards the more challenging path. I can’t remember why. My dream tried to warn me not to venture down this path. The indication was that the consequences would be arduous, but my dream-self was interested in the challenge. There was no telling where it’d go, but there was no indication that the other path would lead anywhere either, so far, I’d only become more lost. The only alternative was back, which my dream-self promptly dismissed.
I continued anyways and the path quickly narrowed until I could barely move forward. I considered going back to the fork, but that seemed just as much work and I couldn’t be sure it’d work out either. Out of overwhelming desire, my dream-self eventually conjured a flashlight, though the dream wasn’t lucid, as I didn’t exhibit conscious control. Mystique was nowhere to be found. As soon as I turned on the flashlight, my claustrophic surroundings morphed into my room, though everything was rearranged. Objects were positioned non-sensically and things moved around as I shined the flashlight around. It was as if I was still lost in that confusing forest, but my light allowed me to peer around and understand that I was in a familiar location, though the rules had changed.
A Return to Oneironautics Soon
For the most part, I look forward to dreaming. Some of the most wondrous experiences of my adult life have occurred within my dreams. Events I can’t explain, both amazing and terrible. Dreamscapes of sheer ineffable beauty, where I’m paralyzed by the incomprehensible grandeur of the scenery.
Anyways, I still have some dreams to discuss, including a recent one involving nuclear war and another where I went ice skating in Canada. There was the one with Sephiroth and the Individual Eleven. Plenty of content here, though the last time I psychoanalyzed myself went fucking spectacular, apparently.