Archive for dreams

“Quality Time”

J.D. and I have been spending some serious quality time with each other lately.  Since I’m basically all done with school and schoolwork for the semester (and he’s just a procrastinator), I’ve started playing Zelda Ocarina of Time on the Wii we “borrowed” from my family.  After I had reached the Temple of Time (a good few days of playing for me, because I’m… not very good), J.D. decided that he NEEDED to play as well.  Lucky for him, we also have an N64 and Ocarina of Time for that system.  So, today, we spent most of our free time playing our separate games.  At the same time. On the same TV.

How?  We managed to fangle a giant TV from his friend’s parents, who were just going to throw the thing away.  And I mean, this thing is huge.  Pre-flat-screen-huge.  82-inch screen, two feet from front to back.  It was interesting to fit it into our tiny apartment.  Anyway, we discovered that we can split the screen into two and play on two separate systems.  Of course, the sound only works for one of the games, but… We could both sit and enjoy our games together, and J.D. was always there to help me get through the difficult parts.

Yeah.  We’re boring.  But we’ve had a busy semester, and I’ve earned it.  (He’ll officially earn it by the end of the week)

Speaking of J.D.’s game, he named his character on Ocarina of Time something… Rather derogatory and mean.  So, everyone in the game sounds like a pretentious, sarcastic jerk every time they say something to him.  Like this, “Great job getting up here, stupid.”  Or, “Hey, stupid, get up!” It’s juvenile, but so far, we’re still laughing every time it happens.

P.S. On another note, I keep having dreams of being on a cruise again… My family and I, minus J.D., as it was a few weeks before we got married, went on a cruise.  And I keep dreaming about going on another one.  And drinking lots and lots of hot chocolate.

 

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The Big Five-oh-oh!

It’s official.  I have at last reached 500 views.  I am fully aware that in the grand scheme of things, it’s really not a lot.  BUT… It means that someone OTHER THAN MY FAMILY has read portions of my blog, which makes me very happy.  SO… In honor of that, I will share with you the rough draft of my scholarship essay.  Although, I have since rewritten the entire thing, but I wanted to share with you this metaphor for life.  Or something.

I have had many dreams in my life.  Albeit, many of them have been during my unconscious hours and as irrelevant as Jack Skellington from “Nightmare Before Christmas” sucking out my life-force or searching frantically through an endless cricket stadium filled with Jack Dempsey look-alikes.  So, because my personal “dream” category is filled to the brim with things of the bizarre and fantastic, I will refrain from putting my desire to become a professional musician in this category.  But, as constant as the moments between dusk and dawn have been unfailingly bizarre, so has the presence of music in my life been as constant and unfailing.  Of course, this dawning of realization wasn’t as sudden as, say, death by guillotine, but rather more like finding the perfect pair of jeans – Although, I got lucky and seem to have found a pair that actually fits before the store closed.  But, I, like every single pair of jeans on the planet, need a little more altering to reach true excellence and freedom of movement (translation of the metaphor: musical freedom, meaning overcoming the things that are currently hindering me and causing me frustration – much like a too-tight pair of jeans.)  Of course, if I had already found a perfect pair, I wouldn’t need a tailor and wouldn’t be spending countless amounts of money getting help smoothing out the seams becoming fabulous.  (Metaphor ends here)  Frankly, I never felt happier in high school than when I was singing, and I’m sure there will be plenty who feel the same way when I reach the magical time that I can share what I’ve learned with others at the same point I am now.  In essence, I want to make the future hapless, apathetic, depressed, lonesome, and rejected young people feel… Well, in layman’s terms, happy, by being a part of something almost magical.  Of course, finding the  is in a category of magic of all its own.

 It veers WAY away from the actual topic at hand — the jeans thing kind of takes over.  But there it is.  And Mom, Dad, don’t worry.  I’ve re-written it. 

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Lack-Luster Movies

So, everyone knows how strange and deranged dreams can get sometimes.  I saw the movie I am Legend last night, and I’m guessing that may be the cause for the somewhat sad realization this dream caused in me.

I have now learned that my brain is incapable of thinking of anything truly scary if left to its own devices.  I realized this as I woke up from a rather vivid, a bit frightening, slightly macabre, and a little off-center dream sequence. 

It went as such:

I believe this was a flashback sequence, as the entire time I had the sensation that I was, in fact, in bed.  I was being told about some being who was kind of like the grim reaper with a twist of lemon — quite literally (although, I don’t know how literal I can get when discussing a dream).  He would, in essence, dissolve his victims (using dark magic, of course) into a drinkable liquid.  Each victim had a different flavor – the reaper guy told me later that he had, in fact, had some very interesting-flavored people-nectar (that sounds horrible… Silence of the Lambs, anyone?), including a black-cherry, and Strawberry Daiquiri (a girl from the OC who died in a car wreck episode; Yes, I’m talking about the show, not the place).

Anyway, end of flashback and I’m back in bed, wide awake because, in fact, my feet are still cold.  But I’m still asleep.  You know.  Awake… In bed… In my dream… Yes, this does happen a ridiculous amount of the time, I dream of myself sleeping.  It is VERY exciting, indeed.  SO.  I was wide awake because somehow, I knew the reaper guy was in fact IN THE NEXT ROOM!! (insert horrific violin screech here) I knew because, although the room adjacent to mine is John’s room, I could hear the high pitched screams that are only available in the female ranges.  I came to the conclusion that I was next on the menu, so I did my best to prepare by pulling up the covers and covering my head, but as I heard the screams stop and the reaper going into his opening schpeil as he entered my room (“I’m hardly human, I’ll suck out your life, blah blah blah… Kind of like Team Rocket’s on the Pokemon cartoons) I just HAD to look, as you are NEVER supposed to do when you suddenly find yourself in the middle of a horror movie.  Oh well.

Here’s the sad part.  I could quite literally FEEL my brain trying to think of something scary enough to live up the hype that had been given to this guy throughout the entire dream.  Sadly, the only thing it could come up with was an eerie undulating “black mist.”  A great rip-off of the black mist thing from the popular TV show, LOST.  But the horror didn’t stop, THERE, no!  The mist had to MATERIALIZE into something, and again, I could feel the brain worms working very, very hard, wriggling around trying to find something “hardly human” and REALLY scary.  Sadly, they ran out of time and for some reason, the scariest thing they could come up with was… (insert building violin screech thing you hear in all the horror movies to make you think something REALLY scary is about to happen)… JACK SKELINGTON!  Yes!  The likeable hero from the popular Christmas-slash-Halloween movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas!  His voice was rather like the voice of Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins)—”deviously” kind, but a little creepy.  But, it was still a life-size version of Jack Skellington standing right in my room about to suck the life essence out of me, which came in a nice tall glass with a COMPLETE breakfast – I kid you not.

And so, I realize that I can now cross “macabre horror novelist” off my list of possible occupations because I now realize that I am incapable of thinking of anything original and scary.  This may be the plight of countless other horror flick writers, because I have seen WAY too many movies that put pale white little girls in night-dresses with long black hair and black holes for eyes that can kill a full-grown man by simply being creepy. So I don’t feel so alone in my unconcious unoriginality.

In short, watch out for Jack Skellington late at night as you’re cuddled up warm in your little bed, because he JUST might come into your quaint little bedroom as he materializes out of a “Lost” black mist, drinks your life essence and strangles your screams.

J

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