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If you're interested in American politics and things like ACORN and Global Warming, please watch this video.
In completely other news, I had the Weirdest Dream Ever.
I don't remember how it started. There were a lot of odd bits that sort of melted into each other, and they kept moving back and forth. It took place in a car which was also a factory which was also a maze. I don't know. It all made perfect magical sense at the time, thanks to dream logic.
I think it started in the parking garage. We were getting into this car which was sometimes a normal car and sometimes a minivan except it seemed like it was shaped more like a Hummer or something. Huge and boxy and sort of vaguely militaristic (only not quite). Dad was driving. My uncle was in the back seat. I think my aunt was, too, but the uncle was in the middle and I didn't get a clear look at who was in the far seat. Don't know if Mom was with us or not. I think so. There was a little boy. Possibly my older nephew. I think he was, sometimes, and other times he was some other boy that I don't know IRL but seemed to kind of know in the dream.
So we get to the car and the kid's booster seat was, for some reason, in the front seat. I went to move it into the back. My uncle was in the back seat and seemed vaguely disgruntled at having to move over to make room for the booster. I don't know why. He just generally seemed to be playing the part of the crotchety old man in this dream.
Takes me a bit, but I get the booster in place. Only, for some reason, the car has already started and we're moving down the highway. I open the door to find the kid running alongside. He said he'd been holding on to the side of the car, and didn't seem winded. I picked him up and put him in his seat.
And then we were in a huge factory full of weird steampunk machinery. Cavernous, endless, with the machines forming a sort of maze. I'd become separated from the rest. I found Wonder Woman wandering around and talked to her for a bit. We were both lost, but we helped each other, I think. She left to the north, and I headed south, back to where the rest of the family was waiting in what was sort of the car (or the magical space occupied by the car or tied to the car, where you could cross over from one to the other) and sort of the back of the factory, where it met up with a foundry that was just as cavernous and maze-like as the factory but was also incredibly hot and had a very different atmosphere/feel. The factory was kind of a light brown, felt oppressive and downtrodden. There were people in it, too. The foundry was much more mechanical, sparsely tended. Black steel and molten orange metal.
The kid was lost in the foundry. I went in to find him. Rescue him. He was upset, but I reassured him that I'd found Wonder Woman and she was fine. Led him back north, past the foundry wall and back to our camp at the back of the factory.
We were back in the car. I had to adjust the back seat. There were panels, like the ones that we've had in the back of some of our cars over the years, that folded down, allowing access into the trunk (or allowing you to put larger things into the trunk). Except these folded back, into the trunk, instead of forward as they usually are IRL. This did not seem strange at the time. I had to fold one down for my uncle, who was trying to lie down. His seat had become a mattress, and he wanted it to lie flat. Except that the trunk was also the foundry, so opening those panels let in a constant blast wave of heat. I fiddled with the panels while someone - I don't remember who - fixed the mattress.
We were back in the factory. There was a song playing over and over. It had a sort of Frank Sinatra feel to it. It was easygoing and classy and old-fashioned. It was about porn. The discrepancy seemed odd. Sort of amusing. It worked, somehow. I don't remember any of the lyrics. Some of the factory workers were talking about it, about how other singers had done cover versions - some good, some that completely ruined it, none that could touch the original.
There was a boss in the factory. He may have been the devil. The workers were downtrodden, and had all become addicted to gambling and to this game. There was a puck on the floor, and a small, sort of rectangular brown zone to defend. If you decided to play, you'd get a stick with a broom or something on the end. The devil would try to knock the puck into your zone, and you had to use your stick to keep it away. I played a bit, casually, and knocked away five or six attempts. It wasn't that fun, but it was diverting. Everyone kept warning me not to play, said that losing would have terrible consequences. I stopped playing. I didn't want to fall into the same downward spiral as the factory workers, though I didn't worry too much about it. I was only a visitor. I didn't live there, didn't belong there, would be transitioning back to the car. I couldn't get sucked all the way in.
There were some other people I knew, hanging around our camp. I think![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ksarasara may have been one of them.
With the wall open, the heat from the foundry was oppressive. I moved my bedroll a little to the north, near a station for one of the factory workers. I'm not sure what the task really was, but it was something to do with cutting out a panel of the floorboards and lifting it up. Part of the manufacturing process. It wasn't actually the floor there, but something they were making. I think. I'd seen it done before, earlier. One of the workers approached to do the job again. The porn song was playing on a loop again (or still). She seemed nice, but world-weary. Working and living in the factory had led to a sort of permanent coating of dirt and grease and ash. She was topless, but didn't have any breasts, was pretty much asexual except for the slight feminine cast to her facial features.
I started to help her lift the floorboards. I figured I might as well, as long as I was lying there. I didn't belong, didn't work there, but it couldn't hurt to give her a hand. She smiled.
I was further to the north, away from the camp/car. The boss/devil came to me, offered to play the game. I did, but was distracted and uninterested. I lost. He gave me what looked to be a large rectangular pink pill. I already had a handful of various smaller pills in my left hand. Someone came over, worried about what I was being given. I saw that it wasn't a pill. It was some kind of gadget or magical device. I picked it up and it got bigger, hand-sized. There was a stylus in a holder in the back. The boss/devil told me that because I'd lost, I owed him a card (something internal to the factory which functioned as a sort of money, more or less), but since (being a visitor) I didn't have a card, I had to pay him with a dream. Using the stylus to enter a letter P (my initial) on the front of the pink device counted as my consent to do so. My first dream of the night belonged to him.
The people in the background were sad, the devil triumphant (though neither to a big degree). I smiled. I don't usually remember my dreams, I told him, so I didn't really care. And my first dream of the night was usually a nightmare, so I was glad to be rid of it. I thanked him and walked off, leaving him vaguely disconcerted. (The truth IRL is that I almost never remember anything of my dreams. Don't know about the nightmare thing - precisely because I don't remember - but in the dream it was true.)
The fact that I'd given him my dream meant that I was awake, I decided, even though I was still in the factory and not the car. I didn't think about that too much. Got back to camp and found the kid crying inconsolably. I knew without asking that he was scared about the factory. I told him it was a dream. He didn't believe me. I started describing what had happened in the dream, to convince him that I knew what I was talking about. I knew in the back of my head that the fact that I could recount the events of his supposed dream with absolute certainty, without any feedback from him, meant that it was more than a dream. A shared dream, at the least, but on some level a reality. And yet some other part of me was also convinced that it was a dream of sorts. I wanted to console him, to reassure him. I didn't think he'd think that part through, at least I hoped he wouldn't. He was young and distraught. It seemed a safe bet. So I talked about what had happened in our dream, calmly and firmly, trying to convince him that I understood and it was okay.
I was about halfway through recounting things, feeling that he was starting to respond, confident that I could at least end his near-hysterical sobbing...
And that's when Mom woke me up.
I needed to get my CPAP adjusted. It was supposed to have happened in the morning, before I went to bed for the day. But there'd been a glitch with the prescription. It had supposedly been faxed, but the office said they hadn't gotten it. Things had gotten straightened out during the day, while I'd slept, and Mom was waking me up so I'd have time to have breakfast and get my head together before the respiratory therapist came to make the adjustments.
The fact that I'd been woken up directly from the dream is probably the only reason I can remember it. But it seems totally random, and unlike any other dream I can even vaguely recall. Or maybe not. Like I said, I almost never actually remember anything of my dreams.
In completely other news, I had the Weirdest Dream Ever.
I don't remember how it started. There were a lot of odd bits that sort of melted into each other, and they kept moving back and forth. It took place in a car which was also a factory which was also a maze. I don't know. It all made perfect magical sense at the time, thanks to dream logic.
I think it started in the parking garage. We were getting into this car which was sometimes a normal car and sometimes a minivan except it seemed like it was shaped more like a Hummer or something. Huge and boxy and sort of vaguely militaristic (only not quite). Dad was driving. My uncle was in the back seat. I think my aunt was, too, but the uncle was in the middle and I didn't get a clear look at who was in the far seat. Don't know if Mom was with us or not. I think so. There was a little boy. Possibly my older nephew. I think he was, sometimes, and other times he was some other boy that I don't know IRL but seemed to kind of know in the dream.
So we get to the car and the kid's booster seat was, for some reason, in the front seat. I went to move it into the back. My uncle was in the back seat and seemed vaguely disgruntled at having to move over to make room for the booster. I don't know why. He just generally seemed to be playing the part of the crotchety old man in this dream.
Takes me a bit, but I get the booster in place. Only, for some reason, the car has already started and we're moving down the highway. I open the door to find the kid running alongside. He said he'd been holding on to the side of the car, and didn't seem winded. I picked him up and put him in his seat.
And then we were in a huge factory full of weird steampunk machinery. Cavernous, endless, with the machines forming a sort of maze. I'd become separated from the rest. I found Wonder Woman wandering around and talked to her for a bit. We were both lost, but we helped each other, I think. She left to the north, and I headed south, back to where the rest of the family was waiting in what was sort of the car (or the magical space occupied by the car or tied to the car, where you could cross over from one to the other) and sort of the back of the factory, where it met up with a foundry that was just as cavernous and maze-like as the factory but was also incredibly hot and had a very different atmosphere/feel. The factory was kind of a light brown, felt oppressive and downtrodden. There were people in it, too. The foundry was much more mechanical, sparsely tended. Black steel and molten orange metal.
The kid was lost in the foundry. I went in to find him. Rescue him. He was upset, but I reassured him that I'd found Wonder Woman and she was fine. Led him back north, past the foundry wall and back to our camp at the back of the factory.
We were back in the car. I had to adjust the back seat. There were panels, like the ones that we've had in the back of some of our cars over the years, that folded down, allowing access into the trunk (or allowing you to put larger things into the trunk). Except these folded back, into the trunk, instead of forward as they usually are IRL. This did not seem strange at the time. I had to fold one down for my uncle, who was trying to lie down. His seat had become a mattress, and he wanted it to lie flat. Except that the trunk was also the foundry, so opening those panels let in a constant blast wave of heat. I fiddled with the panels while someone - I don't remember who - fixed the mattress.
We were back in the factory. There was a song playing over and over. It had a sort of Frank Sinatra feel to it. It was easygoing and classy and old-fashioned. It was about porn. The discrepancy seemed odd. Sort of amusing. It worked, somehow. I don't remember any of the lyrics. Some of the factory workers were talking about it, about how other singers had done cover versions - some good, some that completely ruined it, none that could touch the original.
There was a boss in the factory. He may have been the devil. The workers were downtrodden, and had all become addicted to gambling and to this game. There was a puck on the floor, and a small, sort of rectangular brown zone to defend. If you decided to play, you'd get a stick with a broom or something on the end. The devil would try to knock the puck into your zone, and you had to use your stick to keep it away. I played a bit, casually, and knocked away five or six attempts. It wasn't that fun, but it was diverting. Everyone kept warning me not to play, said that losing would have terrible consequences. I stopped playing. I didn't want to fall into the same downward spiral as the factory workers, though I didn't worry too much about it. I was only a visitor. I didn't live there, didn't belong there, would be transitioning back to the car. I couldn't get sucked all the way in.
There were some other people I knew, hanging around our camp. I think
ksarasara may have been one of them.With the wall open, the heat from the foundry was oppressive. I moved my bedroll a little to the north, near a station for one of the factory workers. I'm not sure what the task really was, but it was something to do with cutting out a panel of the floorboards and lifting it up. Part of the manufacturing process. It wasn't actually the floor there, but something they were making. I think. I'd seen it done before, earlier. One of the workers approached to do the job again. The porn song was playing on a loop again (or still). She seemed nice, but world-weary. Working and living in the factory had led to a sort of permanent coating of dirt and grease and ash. She was topless, but didn't have any breasts, was pretty much asexual except for the slight feminine cast to her facial features.
I started to help her lift the floorboards. I figured I might as well, as long as I was lying there. I didn't belong, didn't work there, but it couldn't hurt to give her a hand. She smiled.
I was further to the north, away from the camp/car. The boss/devil came to me, offered to play the game. I did, but was distracted and uninterested. I lost. He gave me what looked to be a large rectangular pink pill. I already had a handful of various smaller pills in my left hand. Someone came over, worried about what I was being given. I saw that it wasn't a pill. It was some kind of gadget or magical device. I picked it up and it got bigger, hand-sized. There was a stylus in a holder in the back. The boss/devil told me that because I'd lost, I owed him a card (something internal to the factory which functioned as a sort of money, more or less), but since (being a visitor) I didn't have a card, I had to pay him with a dream. Using the stylus to enter a letter P (my initial) on the front of the pink device counted as my consent to do so. My first dream of the night belonged to him.
The people in the background were sad, the devil triumphant (though neither to a big degree). I smiled. I don't usually remember my dreams, I told him, so I didn't really care. And my first dream of the night was usually a nightmare, so I was glad to be rid of it. I thanked him and walked off, leaving him vaguely disconcerted. (The truth IRL is that I almost never remember anything of my dreams. Don't know about the nightmare thing - precisely because I don't remember - but in the dream it was true.)
The fact that I'd given him my dream meant that I was awake, I decided, even though I was still in the factory and not the car. I didn't think about that too much. Got back to camp and found the kid crying inconsolably. I knew without asking that he was scared about the factory. I told him it was a dream. He didn't believe me. I started describing what had happened in the dream, to convince him that I knew what I was talking about. I knew in the back of my head that the fact that I could recount the events of his supposed dream with absolute certainty, without any feedback from him, meant that it was more than a dream. A shared dream, at the least, but on some level a reality. And yet some other part of me was also convinced that it was a dream of sorts. I wanted to console him, to reassure him. I didn't think he'd think that part through, at least I hoped he wouldn't. He was young and distraught. It seemed a safe bet. So I talked about what had happened in our dream, calmly and firmly, trying to convince him that I understood and it was okay.
I was about halfway through recounting things, feeling that he was starting to respond, confident that I could at least end his near-hysterical sobbing...
And that's when Mom woke me up.
I needed to get my CPAP adjusted. It was supposed to have happened in the morning, before I went to bed for the day. But there'd been a glitch with the prescription. It had supposedly been faxed, but the office said they hadn't gotten it. Things had gotten straightened out during the day, while I'd slept, and Mom was waking me up so I'd have time to have breakfast and get my head together before the respiratory therapist came to make the adjustments.
The fact that I'd been woken up directly from the dream is probably the only reason I can remember it. But it seems totally random, and unlike any other dream I can even vaguely recall. Or maybe not. Like I said, I almost never actually remember anything of my dreams.