Dream Log: Stolen Puppies and Big Rigs

 

Two dreams I recall:

 

One dealt with me driving a big rig on unfamiliar, and overly complex, freeways.   Had three other passengers.  One looked like Jenna from work, but wasn’t Jenna in the dream.    Kept missing exits and ended up on a ramp to a different freeway.    It had all these massive screens around it broadcasting some football game.    I was feeling overwhelmed by it all and didn’t think it was safe for me to drive.    At least they had it worked out so i could park on the side of the road, let the Jenna character take over.   Just had to wait for the supervisor to come official-ize the change.   He showed up, noted my miles and that the other person was taking over, and we were on our way.

 

Another dream, I think before the above, had all my dogs lost, although we were thinking they were actually stolen as we couldn’t figure out how they got loose.

Several days went by.   Gabe seemed to be dealing with it better than me.   I was particularly upset over Leia.    Kept screaming her name out into the neighborhood, calling for her.    Remember I attempted some form of conjuration spell to bring them all home to us.    Don’t think I actually finished that though.    I was kind of crying on the couch when I looked out the window and saw Leia across the street.   Opened the door and called over to her and the other two dogs came running up to me.   Pushed them inside as I kept calling to Leia (who eventually came running over and into my arms).

Woke up snuggling with her.    

Ke$ha as a fairy…

 

At first I was thinking it was something I saw on TV, but now I’m thinking it was  dream… unless someone else saw it on TV..

But yeah, two people dressed up as fae, and on someone’s hand  (but it did look kinda hollywood)…

The second one was Ke$ha… acknowledged as such in the dream, by the dreamer… not anything else in the dream… I remember reacting ‘oh god, why Ke$ha’ and thinking she really didn’t belong.

Unless she is a Fae..  I mean she wants you to leave her concert wet and glittery…    sounds suspicious.

Yesternight’s Dreaming Events

I think this may be the second dream I’ve had now about my car not being parked where it should be in the morning.

This one wasn’t an actual theft though. The police impounded it. Though it was all my neighbor’s doing. Who was my maintenance person (well the landlady’s), though not the actual one assigned to us, but rather Ralph. He was the custodian/handyman at a previous job from many years ago. (I’m a little surprised I managed to recall his name.)

Anyway, he and his wife felt I was littering from my car, so they filed a complaint. Only the police wanted the car emptied before they took it and let Ralph handle that. No one actuall approached me in any of this. I watch it from my window. (Old house though… which in the real world has a new front door, I recently discovered. I fear the old one was kicked-in. My poor old house. I feel bad for it.)

It seems I had some halloween stuff in storage, as Ralph begins emptying orange bins he retrieves from my car. To take them to his own storage for now. How I knew that, is well, a dream-thing.

Naturally I was angered at all this and plotted with Gabe to confront them. So after getting him to get motivated (the dream him was uncharacteristically unconcerned about any of this and needed much prodding) to get dressed so we could go over there, we finally arrive rather late in the evening. We knock, Ralph’s wife answers (never met the real Mrs. Ralph), asks what I want and I say ‘that guy!’ nodding to her husband who has appeared behind her. Now i’m inside as she’s considering my request and asks me if it can wait until after dinner (i guess they sit down to eat late). I protest and we get into it as I launch into my tirade about getting my car taken. She retorts about how she’s asked me numerous times to be more careful when I’m cleaning out my car and that Kietzke has never been so dirty as it is since I moved in. (Kietzke is a street my reno readers are no doubt familiar with.)

Dream me remembers one instance in dream history where dream Ralph’s family ever said anything about trash to me… one time when I was cleaning out my car and a receipt or something fell to the ground while I was taking my little trash-doohikey out to empty it (before I even had a chance to pick it up but did).

I like how the dream memories in your dream are lived out right then. Its fun being non-linear.

So I was even more irked ’cause now I’ve found out they had my car taken because they wanted to make a strong point to me about how much disdain they have for litter being on the ground, even if only for a brief moment while you finish emptying the waste recepticle before bending down to pick up your escaped-paper.

At which point the dream was concluded, at least from my conscious-memory’s point of view.

Walking Dead

Not the zombies though.    Although AMC has a great series on its hands.   If you haven’t caught the debut season, you should definitely check it out.

 

No, the walking dead I speak of is in reference to a guy in my dream last night.    Let’s just say that we were dating…

Well the story of this guy goes that he was in some kind of accident, and died.   Doctors were able to get his brain functioning again.    While he’s definitely functional, and not handicapped in anyway, he’s not altogether there either.

A combination of what other characters in the dream told me, and my own sense of him, is that his body is very much alive… but the soul of the man who once owned it has moved on.     I remember remarking to myself how well his brain was doing at autonomous functions.    He could talk, had access to memories, full range of body motion.   By all appearances, a normal guy.      

But he wasn’t.   The real ‘he’ checked out in that accident and what’s left is simply biology carrying on.     Never met someone without a soul before.    Kind of odd.

I had the distinct feeling that my involvement with him was somehow using someone’s body without that someone’s permission…    because the real him was dead and unable to tell me his wishes in that regard.

All in all, it reminds me much of an episode from Stargate Universe.   (And not just because people on that show swap bodies on occasion.)    Back in the first season there was this episode called Faith.    Destiny encounters what the crew concludes is an artificially created solar system.    An away team heads down to the planet to get some supplies, and decide they want to remain there.

Second season just had an episode where they mysteriously reappear next to the Destiny.   They come aboard, and everyone initially checks out, but the rest of the crew is uneasy about them.    Something they can’t quite put their finger on…    turns out they all died on that planet.     Somehow their bodies were repaired and reanimated, and brought to Destiny.     Unfortunately the repairs weren’t complete, or something.    They start succumbing to whatever killed them originally, and one by one they die again.

In the end we’re left with the last guy of this group standing, and he is a man of deep faith.    He originally believed God had made him reborn, saving them from the harsh conditions of the planet and bringing them back to Destiny.     But as the rest of his group dies off again, and the reality of his situation became apparent… he came to the realization that he was simply a shadow of the real him… that the real one, his soul, had moved on and was looking down on him even now.     That’s what made everyone so uneasy.    The bodies were repaired, but the mysterious aliens could not build a new soul.   Intuitively the rest of the crew felt this and were inexplicably repulsed by their one-time colleagues.

 

So similar theme I guess with this guy in my dream.    Makes me wonder though… as medicine advances, and the ability to restore brain function, repair damage, and otherwise resuscitate someone who has died improves… the day may come where someone could be dead for hours, maybe even a full day or week…    and we can ‘bring them back’ without any physical side-effects.

Already we can keep the body alive and functioning even if the brain inside isn’t running the show anymore.   Saw this rather chilling new piece of technology that keeps a heart beating, so as to improve the ability to get it into a transplant recipient by expanding the amount of time they have to complete the transfer.       (What they allow on television these days is amusing, particularly compared with what they won’t allow.)

In the rhetorical, philosophical questioning mindset…     what’s that going to mean?    With the right kind of imaging devices, we’ve actually seen something (soul perhaps?) leave a body at the time of death.   We don’t know what it is, but its something we can observe if we’re in the right place, at the right time, with the right equipment.

What if this is the soul… what if it does ‘move on’ and the body itself remains on life support?   What then if nano-bots or something are introduced and repair the damage… returning the body to self-sustaining-operation?       Will medicine one day yield us someone like the boy in my dream?    Will we even know one when we meet them?

I’ll have to rethink my DNR orders when that day arrives.

The colonies of man tremble at our feet…

 

In the great debate of PC vs MAC…     I choose Cylon.

Maybe that’s because I am one.    Or not.   It was… quite the dream…that one from July of 2008.

I blogged about it, but in the MySpace blog, which didn’t transfer over here.   So, I’ll share that post with you here… but at the end.    I have other things I wanted to mention.

Moving progresses.   Took yesterday off to be available in case NV Energy needed me to let them in.    Spent most of it packing and moving said packed-items over.     I have discovered I am stronger than I knew.   I was moving furniture around all by myself with far less effort than I anticipated needing.    Granted its not huge furniture, as that stuff tends to be a bit too awkward for me to carry on my lonesome, but still…   its not light stuff.   I was tossing it in and out of the car like it was nothing.    Yeah, I move furniture in my coupe.   It should not be underestimated in its ability to move my belongings.    Poor car.    First thing I do after buying it was start moving.    Ten years later and that third door is still awesome for getting boxes (and furniture) in and out of that back seat.

I think we’ll be able to do the heavier moving (that involving a uHaul) a bit earlier than anticipated.    As soon as Gabe’s check gets here we’ll book something.

 

Anyway…  a trip through the dreamscape from July 15, 2008:

(Mind you, this was prior to Season 4.5 airing)

Toasters and Skin Jobs

So I’ve been trying to hold on to this since about 5:50 this morning when I first awoke.

I’ve dreamt myself as a Cylon.    That’s right.   One of humanity’s destroyers.

The details are, of course, somewhat sketchy but this is what I remember:

The human race is extinct, save one captive:    "Colonel" Sheppard.   Though while the rank was colonel, its the John Sheppard of Mass Effect that we hold prisoner, and not the John Sheppard of the Atlantis expedition.

Further I had only just discovered my awesome cylon programming.   I was in Sheppard’s unit up until whatever calamity befell the remainder of the human race.

The Cylons themselves were seriously culled.   There were only twelve of us left… but the math doesn’t really add up.    We had two sixes, and two eights with us.  One of all the other models [from the 7, not the final five].   Not sure, but I think certain models may be extinct also.   I don’t recall seeing Madame President’s former aide walking around.    Problem is, I’m not the only new cylon to be revealed.   There is another (which also doesn’t add up since all but one have been revealed).   He’s apparently a native american of sorts.   At least he was dressed as such.   But he’s about as ethnic as Admiral Adama isn’t, so there you have it.   Though that is one ethnicity that seems to be missing from the pantheon of Cylon skin jobs…  natives of the Americas.

Originally Tigh and the other "Colonial Cylons" (you know, the four of the final five hiding in the fleet…) were trying to hide me from the rest.   But that ruse ended and the final of the five (apparently not me) helped me adjust to my newly awakened sense of cylon identity.

I briefly considered rescuing Shepard to put an end to the madness, but apparently found myself conflicted in the realization that the Cylons were my people, not the humans… and indeed the Colonials I was most close with were also Cylons (Tigh and such).

I do know that I was talking to a six and mentioned "you know, we have a homeworld of our own" (in reference to the homeworld the Cylons set out to found after the original Cylon war against the Colonies… and that we didn’t need to follow this other new Cylon’s vision of setting up shop on what appeared to be Earth).     She indicated they had basically dismantled it (the Cylon Homeworld) in preparation for their attack on the Twelve Colonies.

I asked them "but what about our plan?"   (‘Cause Cylons have plans.)   That lead to discussion with one of the eights about her unique ability to mate with any genetic makeup.   "But we haven’t tested that with other cylons," the Six and I were quick to interject.

Yes, I was concerned there weren’t many of us Cylons left and wondered how we would perpetuate our race.   Hera being mysteriously absent I was also concerned that we, the Cylons, had lost sight of our objectives.   And we had no ability to resurrect thanks to some rebellious skin jobs and their colonial allies (whom of course were probably some of the surviving Cylons as it was.)

But then I got woken up, so I don’t know the outcome.  

So there you have it.  I’m a frakking Cylon.   The fabled thirteenth model apparently.    I’d love to see what one of those dream books has to say about that.

"When you dream about being a cylon it means…."

 

One thing I was commenting on later in relation to this dream…   Having lived the experience of finding out everything you thought about yourself was a lie… that you weren’t even human…   well it was an experience to be sure.   Waking up didn’t shake it, and having been put through that let’s just say I was none-to-thrilled to find out all that angst and self-reflection that accompanies finding out you’re a skin job, that I went through in this dream,  was really for nothing.   

Thoughts of Kanika

 

Kanika was my cat.   She’s been gone almost three years now.    Yesterday I received an email from the veterinarian that the shelter had sent her too for spaying when I adopted her.    It was a Happy Birthday email, as apparently yesterday was the shelter’s estimated date of birth for Kanika.  

I miss that cat.   I got her about six to eight months after my previous cat, Seven, had disappeared.   I had the sense that she was gone from this plane, and wasn’t coming home.    I picked Kanika because of all the cats in the shelter, she seemed to mind the least.  While everyone else was meowing and complaining about wanting me to let them out of their cages, there was Kanika making the best of it.   Thoroughly amused with what she had available to her in the cage.    The cat had personality.    Those are the cats I like best.

So I adopted her and after she was done with the vet took her home.     I didn’t have her long.   But I remember her fondly.   Always on the banister swatting me as I went by.   Insisting that I come into the laundry room so that I could pet her while she ate  (we kept the food on the dryer so the dogs would stay out of it).    She loved being petted while she ate.   Would hardly touch her food otherwise.    Always a character, that one.    I remember how she’d run down and harass my dog Dax anytime he got in trouble as if to say “yeah, you bad dog.  do what he says.”     :)  My little enforcer.

Fearless that one.   Once she got out and a neighbor found her and took her in.  They put up signs and it read  “Found:  Black Cat.   Smart, Friendly, and apparently not afraid of dogs.”    Yup, that is Kanika.   

That was ultimately what led to her disappearance though.   After Seven I wanted to keep her indoors.  But its hard to keep a cat contained.   She was smart.   She managed to get out a few times.    It was that last time I will kick myself over til the end of my days.    She had gone out the night before, and was waiting for me the next morning a bit stressed from the ordeal.   I figured she’d be good to stay in awhile.   But she went out again that night.   I still remember hearing her meow to come back in and me be too lazy to go downstairs again and open the door.   Instead I let my self slide off into sleep and haven’t seen her since.   🙁

Who knows.  One day maybe I’ll get that call from Home Again telling me that found my cat and she’s in a vet clinic halfway across the country.

 

With Seven, she’s been in my dreams to say goodbye.    Kanika I haven’t seen.    Maybe we didn’t have that same bond.    Or maybe she isn’t gone yet to say goodbye.    Wherever she is, I hope she’s happy and gets lots of petting so she can eat.

 

On a related note, Seven did recently visit me in my dreams, except she was in a new body.   Now someone at work has kittens to give away and one of them kinda looks like the new Seven.     Though I’m not sure.     I’ve been thinking about getting one.    But I’m still on the fence.   Already I four quadrupeds to care for, not to mention a biped I’m half-supporting.   Another wouldn’t be a huge strain, but it is a rather small house.   I dunno.   If it was Seven, I’d have to reclaim her.  She did, afterall, take the time to show off her new body.   Seems like she might want to come home.   But who can be sure?    For all I know the kitten that kind of resembles the dream-seven might already be claimed.

Dreamtime Scenario Training

 

I had my first taste of a home invasion the night before last.   It turned out to be a dream, thankfully, but it was real enough when I was experiencing it that I found it valuable training in what I hope will never be a scenario I have to actually face.

In the dream my front door was wide open, as is sometimes the case on hot July/August evenings when we’re still suffering at 85 degrees even with the AC.

Normally we have a gate we put up to contain the dogs, but for some reason it wasn’t up.   The dogs were staying inside though and ultimately paid no mind to anything happening in the dream.

So I’m standing there in my living room when two guys walk by the house.    Not on the sidewalk, as is customary and a frequent occurrence on my street.    No, they walked right through my yard.   One of them was daring enough to have actually walked through the planters lining the front of my house, crossing the front porch in the process.    When I say they walked by my house, I mean they were within arms reach of it.

After they pass and are now trekking through my neighbor’s yard, both Gabe and I decide we should yell something after them.    Out the side window Gabe is screaming something about being quiet and I’m sticking my head out the front door demanding they stay off my yard.

Both guys turn around and chuck something toward me and the house.    One of them then decides to charge us, and starts running back toward my front door.  

I step inside, and this is where I am kind of intrigued by myself.   I actually thought through a strategy, in a dream!   I dismissed the idea that putting the gate up would buy me any real time, and instead decided the gate would be a good weapon.   I intended to close-line the guy as he entered the house, so I grabbed the gate and got ready.

In he came, his face painted up in black and white.  Kind of reminds me of insane clown posse.   He hits the gate I have up to ram into his neck/chest.    I turn to yell to Gabe, who has disappeared in the kitchen and is oblivious to our invasion, to warn him.

My actual vocal cords decided to work at this point and my yelling to Gabe was [incoherent] yelling in the real world, and that was the sound I woke up too… my own scream.

 

To make matters more interesting, I tell Gabe this dream and he informs me that he too had experienced a dream where the house we were in (not our real one in his dream) was being invaded and we had to contend with that.    Apparently in that one I was more inclined to hide and stay quiet than confront the intruder.

 

Needless to say, I am feeling rather unprepared for a real scenario.   As dry runs go, while I’m impressed by my dream-mind’s strategizing (despite some flaws in that strategy), I am far from ready for a home invasion.

As Gabe pointed out, I really want that security screen now.    I’ve wanted one anyway, as its nice to keep the door open on hot evenings, but it introduces more risk.     The bar that keeps my door from being kicked open doesn’t work if the door is open to begin with.    A solid security screen would serve to add a few precious seconds for me to escape, or hit the panic button and grab the bear-mace.    (We do have some preparations for this sort of thing in place… funny none of them came into play in the dream… clearly my mind’s first thoughts are not to make use of such things.)

Fog Dream

Today it is foggy outside.   Atypical weather for Reno.   Fog is a rarity in these parts, and when we do get it, it is usually short-lived.   Not today.   What makes it particularly remarkable is that it is now past noon, and the fog lingers.   It is thinning, but still clings thickly to the valley floor.

 

It was probably a trick of the light, but I could swear it wasn’t there when I went out to start up my car.   Yet when I went back out to leave, i looked about and wondered at myself that there seemed to be a bit of excess exhaust in the air.   But no, it was fog.

 

In the vein of coincidences aren’t, I did fall asleep last night focusing on the Dragon Rune of Fog Dream, Ratanan, and have been enjoying a foggy day today.   No recollection of any dreams I had though.

Cylon Invasion

So last night I was treated to some interesting dreams.   Funny how the stuff of nightmares is now sleep-time entertainment for me…. 

Well, save one particular piece of imagery that had my beloved little Leia suffering severe burns… I could do without that.  

Cylons, however, seemed to invade them.    Two eights actually.   One in a raptor flying above.. the other on the ground snapping the neck of the master-criminal whose crew I joined and then took issue with.

Except this guy was immortal because he arose from his neck snapping (which resulted in quite a bit of blood being spilled) and continued his criminal masterminding…
Smart guy though.  After so long, he’d tell his people… "Its time you went the way we all do…"   and then for the most part he’d murder them.

I somehow got told to go with half the money I was supposed to get for my part in whatever it was we did…   and his most faithful of assistants was taunted a bit before being allowed to depart with his is life intact.

No one knows what happened to the Cylons.

But then it all shifted to a conversation where I was trying to explain something about the finale to Gabe… at which point I had to wake myself up.   If I dwell upon the finale for any length of time, depression sets back in.

That show touched me rather deeply and I’m still struggling to cope with the fate of the Thirteen Tribes.

Yes I know.. I"m a freak.

😛

Toasters and Skin Jobs

So I’ve been trying to hold on to this since about 5:50 this morning when I first awoke.

I’ve dreamt myself as a Cylon.    That’s right.   One of humanity’s destroyers.

The details are, of course, somewhat sketchy but this is what I remember:

The human race is extinct, save one captive:    "Colonel" Sheppard.   Though while the rank was colonel, its the John Sheppard of Mass Effect that we hold prisoner, and not the John Sheppard of the Atlantis expedition.

Further I only just discovered my awesome cylon programming.   I was in Sheppards unit up until whatever calamity befell the remainder of the human race.

The Cylons themselves were seriously culled.   There were only twelve of us left… but the math doesn’t really add up.    We had two sixes, and two eights with us.  One of all the other models.   Not sure, but I think certain models may be extinct also.   I don’t recall seeing Madame President’s former aide walking around.    Problem is, I’m not the only new cylon to be revealed.   There is another (which also doesn’t add up since all but one have been revealed).   He’s apparently a native american of sorts.   At least he was dressed as such.   But he’s about as ethnic as Admiral Adama isn’t, so there you have it.   Though that is one ethnicity that seems to be missing from the pantheon of Cylon skin jobs.

Originally Tigh and the other "Colonial Cylons" (you know, the four of the final five hiding in the fleet…) were trying to hide me from the rest.   But that ruse ended and the final of the five (apparently not me) helped me adjust to my newly awakened sense of cylon identity.

I briefly considered rescuing Shepard to put an end to the madness, but apparently found myself conflicted in the realization that the Cylons were my people, not the humans… and indeed the Colonials I was most close with were also Cylons (Tigh and such).

I do know that I was talkign to a six and mentioned "you know, we have a homeworld of our own" (in reference to the homeworld the Cylons set out to found after the original Cylon war against the Colonies… and that we didn’t need to follow this other new Cylon’s vision of setting up shop on what appeared to be Earth).     She indicated they had basically dismantled it (the Cylon Homeworld) in preparation for their attack on the Twelve Colonies.

I asked them "but what about our plan?"   (‘Cause Cylons have plans.)   That lead to discussion with one of the eights about her unique ability to mate with any genetic makeup.   "But we haven’t tested that with other cylons," the Six and I were quick to interject.

Yes, I was concerned there weren’t many of us Cylons left and wondered how we would perpetuate our race.   Hera being mysteriously absent I was also concerned that we, the Cylons, had lost sight of our objectives.   And we had no ability to ressurect thanks to some rebellious skin jobs and their colonial allies (whom of course were probably some of the surviving Cylons as it was.)

But then I got woken up, so I don’t know the outcome.  

So there you have it.  I’m a frakking Cylon.   The fabled thirteenth model apparently.    I’d love to see what one of those dream books has to say about that.

"When you dream about being a cylon it means…."