I was in a romantic relationship with Linn Berggren.
(😍)
I believe our love was forbidden, 'cause I went to great effort to hide it from my sister.
(Who was sometimes my brother.)
Strawberries also figured into the dream. One strawberry was the size of a pumpkin. It had begun to spoil, so I had to gouge out all the rot before I could eat it, leaving me with no more than half. I figure this was a subconscious reference to Wild Strawberries.
(They're both Swedish, after all.)
* * *
I watched the unaired pilot of That '70s Show. There were quite a number of differences between this pilot and the show that would follow. It was more of a variety show than a straightforward sitcom, with lots of musical skits. Red and Kitty were quite different characters; they were swingers, with Kitty being in a relationship with Hyde. Also Red was played by Kurt Russell.
A party was being thrown at my house. Slavoj Žižek crashed it, then got blitzed and ended up crashing on the couch on the back porch.
While this was going down, my sister was elsewhere. She did something foolish which caused her to take a rather nasty spill, earning her a large blood-blister on her chest, over her heart. This blood-blister was potentially life-threatening, so someone called an ambulance and she was rushed to the hospital. Me and my parents — who were alive — only found out about this after she returned home from surgery the next day, tearfully relating the story to us as she peeled the bandage on her left breast back, showing us where the blood-blister had been removed. Suffice to say, neither of my parents were pleased by this news.
* * *
I was a teenager back in high school. I had a new teacher, who was Alannah Myles — an Alannah Myles who was sometimes muscular, sometimes her familiar slender self.
She possessed mystical powers. At a dance, she used her powers to instill me with the courage to dance with a girl I had never seen at school before. So the two of us danced; we both had two left feet, but we enjoyed ourselves nevertheless.
Then the dance ended and the girl disappeared. Alannah told me the girl had been like me, a poor soul crippled by social anxiety. I was told I'd never see her again, but the purpose of this moment was never to set us up as life partners, but to kickstart our spiritual evolution.
Now is where the dream gets absolutely bonkers. This portion is so bizarre, my hamfisted descriptions can't do it justice. Turns out Alannah was one of many angels sent to Earth to kickstart the spiritual evolution of all of mankind. Myself and millions of other people around the globe had been chosen as the first recipients of this program. We were force-fed deep-fried, sausage-sized slugs; experienced Noah's Flood from the perspective of those who'd drowned; and forced to snort a powderized poisonous insect which burned at the touch and was 90+% fatal. All this and a series of other scenarios were meant to reinvigorate our empathy, though I'm pretty sure a good number of them were counterproductive.
The dream ended on a hopeful note for the humanity. A Rob Zombie cover of Bryan Adams' "Heaven" played as it came to an end, like a movie going to end credits.
* * *
The Marxist-Leninist YouTuber BadEmpanada
came to me while I was in bed. Leaning over my ear, he began reading in a low whisper some anti-Christian screed from a heavy ML textbook he was carrying. I knew he was only trying to get a rise out of me, so instead of lashing out, I smiled, saying he was an amazing ASMRtist.
* * *
Mira Furlan spit in Kevin Sorbo's face.
Then they kissed passionately with full tongue action.
This dream played out like a movie I was watching. It was a horror film starring Jennifer Lawrence.
The villain was the Leper Messiah.
(It's apparent where my subconscious pulled this from.)
The Leper Messiah looked exactly like Hans Baldung's depiction of Death from his paintings The Three Ages of Man and Death/The Three Ages of Woman and Death.
(The only difference is the Leper Messiah had ice blue eyes.)
The Leper Messiah carried with it two enormous rusted screws — one a straightforward screw, the other a screw-in hook.
I remember none of the plot details of this dream expect one: the Leper Messiah fastening a silver crucifix bearing its image instead of Jesus' around J-Law's neck.
* * *
My sister and I were visiting one of her friends at his home. Instead of being where it is in reality, it was located on a cove, and he was leasing the property. The three of us were inside his house, playing on his N64. Deciding to take a break, I left to go for a walk. While wandering about, I collected points, as if I was in a video game.
I eventually made my way to the mainland, where I met my sister's friend's satanic landlord. He looked exactly like Ray Wise.
He wore a goatee, and his nails were long and manicured, coated with black nail polish. I don't really remember the details of our conversation, but he mentioned something about signing contracts in blood.
The two of us walked back to the cove. Once there, the landlord demanded his tenant sign a new contract or face immediate eviction. My sister's friend acquiesced, calling his landlord a "Pentecostal Catholic". Grinning, the landlord took out an enormous bound copy of the Vestus Latina dating back to the 4th century, wanting to sign the contract within its pages. As the landlord began signing his name with a fountain pen in regular ink, I suggested he use his blood instead. Agreeing, the landlord set the pen aside and slit open his palm with out of his claw-like nails, scrawling his signature in his own blood. The dream ended abruptly there.
(Which in this dream world was only 14 KM north of my town of residence.)
After reaching Alaska, I eventually decided to go back home. I figured the best way back was to swim the entire lake which stretched between Alaska and my home. However, soon after swimming a little ways, I found a massive crevice had opened up in the lake bed and the entire lake was slowly but steadily emptying, the water swirling down like in a giant sink.
Figuring these waters were too treacherous to continue navigating, I swam back to Alaska and booked a room at a lakeside hotel. As it turns out, this hotel was built atop a large kraken which was inhabiting the lake.
As the lake continued draining, the kracken was sucked down into the Earth. I escaped, but not without banging my head on the jagged rock of the crevice the lake was draining into.
* * *
It was winter. The family had discovered a load of young kittens half-frozen somewhere outside. As my sister and father were bringing them in, I attempted to play with them. At this point, they'd spent their formative weeks without much human interaction, so they were already distrustful and half-feral, though some were tamer than others. Funnily enough, they'd made friends with a small baby mouse and a fuzzy little insect. Also, there was a Jedi with a chartreuse reverse mullet helping bring the kittens in.
Upon discovering the insect, he slowly and sadistically crushed it under his boot, despite my desperate pleas to spare it. Enraged, I picked the Jedi up and broke his back over my knee.
* * *
I travelled through time and space to the Antebellum South. Once I got there, I visited a park. I started talking to the folks there about the Gnostic gospels, explaining that most were lost/existed in fragments 'cause they'd been suppressed by the religious authorities of the time. This pissed off many of them, and they sent for guards.
(The guards wore heavy 18th century dresses of red, gold-embroidered fabric.)
They began torturing me, with one jamming the end of his musket over my right middle finger, firing straight through my arm and out my elbow.
As one guard levelled his musket at me to end me, I wrenched it out of his hands and beat him to death with it. Seeking escape, I hid under the skirts of a group of slave childen who were disguised as a guard within one of the heavy red dresses. They then smuggled me out of there.
* * *
A boy in his late teens/early twenties entered into a relationship with an older man's wife. The man found out about the affair. Being both a Vodou bokor and a damn good cook, he whipped up a pot of cursed jambalaya. Cornering the younger man in an alley, he scooped some jambalaya out of the pot and forced the kid to eat it.
I know there was more to the dream than that, but I don't remember the rest.
Some context for this dream. On 1 February, 2019 my father passed away after a short battle with cancer. On 11 of last month, after over two years of chronic hospitalization, my mother passed away from complications with COPD.
* * *
I was asleep in my bed when I felt a presence with me. Opening my eyes, I found the spirit of my father sitting over me, 25-30 years younger than he'd been when he passed. Calmly, with much affection in his eyes and voice, he told me he'd been dwelling in Bethlehem, that he'd been sent to watch over the family. He then vanished into thin air. I was elated by this news, but that elation didn't last long; I quickly realized something was amiss. The way he'd referred to Bethlehem was as if it was a spiritual plane, which it clearly isn't. But the biggest glitch in the matrix was my mother still being alive, which I knew was wrong. At this point I realized I was dreaming and woke up.
Except I hadn't woke up. It was a false awakening. Then I woke up. Except I didn't. Then I woke up. But I still hadn't. I was trapped in a cycle of false awakenings, one quickly sequeing into the next.
I emerged from the cycle. Getting out of bed, I went outside. In my mother's garden, she and my sister were hosting a party with a group of 5-6 people. I can't remember who all the guests were.
(Barbara Hershey and Vincent van Gogh are the only two I'm certain about.)
I hadn't emerged from the cycle after all.
I approached my mother. She was 35-40 years younger than she had been. I tried making conversation with her, but she didn't seem to notice me; she only stared into the distance, face expressionless.
The number of guests suddenly doubled or tripled in size. Now among the attendees was Tara Reid, wearing a bulky bodysuit of cabbage leaves. I took her in my arms and started peeling her leaves away, eagre to uncover her body. However, once I peeled the last of the leaves away, I found nothing but a transparent membrane containing green protoplasm and organelles undernearth. Without the leaves to provide rigidity, her head came clean off her shoulders, killing her.
Then I emerged from the cycle. I went into the kitchen, over to the sink, and standing there, looked out the window. The layout beyond was radically different than I knew it to be; in reality, where a long unpaved driveway surrounded on each side by empty fields are, were two pristine homes with neat lawns directly facing mine. My sister, with her friends Todd & Dave, were fleeing one of these properties in a hurry. Tripping and falling, she transformed into Dave, Dave transforming into a third man I'd never met before. I hadn't emerged from the cycle after all. Entering the home, Todd, nuDave, and Man #3 headed towards the basement. As I approached them, Todd introduced us; it was Alice Cooper.
I was a disembodied entity travelling through a living cityscape straight out of an M. C. Escher print.
Inhabiting this cityscape were mouthless, legless semi-humanoid beings which somewhat resembled the robot from the Looney Tunes short Robot Rabbit.
Playing through the air was music I can only describe as "synthwave jazz".
Then I found myself within an infinite corridor similar to the one from Escher's Another World (Other World Gallery).
In each partition of the corridor were two persons — one unique individual, each with their own particular neurosis, and one identical matronly woman in horn-rimmed glasses discussing Freudian/Jungian psychology. I found myself in the "alpha chamber", the only chamber with three walls; on that wall behind me hung a poster with a pictographic representation of an infinite corridor. I was inhabiting the body of a bald, ugly, stoop-shouldered man with an irresistible compulsion to kiss the hand of every woman he came across. After he/I forcibly kissed the hand of my matron, she showed him/me a card. On the card was a drawing of an androgyne. Unable to process the male/female aspects of the drawing, he/I froze, incapable of any action.
The dream probably would've continued, but I was rudely awakened. 😦
* * *
I was in a forest. My sister gave me a marijuana brownie. After eating it, I quickly grew anxious, as she'd made it with sativa. After telling her she should cultivate some indica strains, I wandered off into the woods with my girlfriend, Jane.
(Literally Jane Seymour)
We were both wearing 19th century clothing; she had on a heavy dress with a bonnet, me a black suit with a string tie. I hugged her close to me as we walked through the woods together, all lovey-dovey.
We soon emerged in a clearing, where we found a prodigious white Antebellum mansion.
We went inside. The interior was entirely pristine, completely uninhabited.
As we prepared to settle down in our new home, we went to the open front door and peered outside. Coming towards us was Orson Krennic, with him a mob of ornery white Southerners.
They swarmed into the house before we could get away, apprehending us. I believe they fully intended on lynching us. Before they could, Inigo Montoya came to our aid, running one of the blackguards through on his sword.
I really wish I remembered how the dream ended. Jane and I escaped, at any rate.
Monica Lewinsky was walking along a rocky mountain path all by herself, carrying in her arms an enormous Yukon Gold potato, when a man with a machete-sized butcher knife leapt out and attacked her. He tried stabbing her through the potato, but it got stuck in the tuber. After failing to pull it free, he ran away.
* * *
It was the early '90s. The YouTuber T1J
took his dog for a stroll through a boggy grassland. Walking through the long, moist grass, the dog picked up a number of ticks.
Back in town, T1J ran into a Haitian emigrant who spoke little English. The Haitian cleaned T1J's dog free of ticks, free of charge.
The Haitian worked as a cook at a "greasy spoon" diner owned by Vera Miles.
Dilapidated and unsanitary, the diner was failing.
* * *
The end times were upon us. A species of flying, biting insectoids of unknown origin appeared in massive swarms, attacking and draining of life-force all beings they encountered — even ghosts.
One of my sister's drunking buddies, having run out of booze, left the safety of the enclosed shelters to procure more. Contact with him soon ceased, phone and text messages going unanswered. My sister went into a frenzy, intent on venturing out to find him. We were forced to restrain her, heedless of her desperate pleas.
* * *
In the '70s, my mother wrote an adapted screenplay of Philip K. Dick's Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said. It was an adaptation in name only; the plot and characters were wholly original. The screenplay was picked up by a major studio and made into a movie starring Yaphet Kotto and Leslie Nielsen.
Kotto's character was the primary antagonist, a hitman hired to eliminate a number of different people. Nielsen's was the decoy protagonist, a detective tasked with apprehending the hitman.
At some point in the film, the hitman sent the detective sliding down the side of a skyscraper to his doom.
