Your (Non-ILX) Dreams

I've been having really vivid dreams lately, for some reason. I usually can't even remember what I've dreamt by the time I get to the bathroom to brush my teeth. But there's been a few lately that I've been kind of surprised at. It's gotten to a point where I've started to write down everything I can remember as soon as possible.

Here's some transcriptions of some of the best ones (I'm trying to type these out exactly as I've written them down):

1) "Modern society where every person actually has a diagnosable mental illness but not all have access to psychiatric services. The main idea would be to narrate as someone who had the knowledge of each person's progression through their mental illness up until the point of narration. It would try to explain things such as fraudulent behavior, shoplifting, all petty and more serious crimes, etc., justifying the actions; as the narrator knows, essentially, everything. The narrator is the exact opposite of an 'unreliable narrator' — something, anything, that happens in a character's mind is immediately known. It may confuse the reader in the meantime."

2) "A guy that lives, unbeknownst to him, inside a computer simulation. The computer simulation exists in a dystopian '1984' / 'Big Brother' type dictatorship / fascist society. The main character inside the simulation is a man who lives in a past area of where the fascist government has now taken over. They simulate this specific place and time because they saw a lot of creative arts come to prominence in this area, during that specific time period. Knowing this, they farm the simulation for the man's musical compositions, creating the only legal, government approved music. The man share all of his music on the internet (via SoundCloud, bandcamp, etc.). By doing this, when, in the simulation, the man is 'uploading' one of his songs, he is actually converting the song into binary code inside the simulation; the music can then be extracted into the 'real' world. When the reader is inside the simulation, narration is first person, via the man. When the reader is in the 'real' dystopian world, narration is third person."

3) "The author tells their autobiography through their own made up altered dimension timelines they've created from people in which the current narration have all but been forgotten. Through these different timelines, the author speculates on all the minute details of what life would have been like if PERSON A would have become more prominent in the author's narrative. The question will arise early in the reader's mind whether or not their version is the origin of if tis narrative itself only exists in the mind of an author in another dimension / timeline."

Also, lots of otherwise nonexistent music by some of my favorite bands (Radiohead, the Cure, etc).

Yeesh, I mangled that last sentence in the third one. Should read:

The question will arise early in the reader's mind whether or not their version is the origin of this narrative or if it itself only exists in the mind of an author in another dimension / timeline.

I really wish I'd caught the title of that movie starring Sarah Silverman and Osama bin Laden.

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers unenthusiastically gangbanging a woman in a field

I'm pretty sure you're just thinking of the video for 'Free Falling'.

omg gross.
why did i click on this

sry ;_;

believe me it was not a dream I enjoyed

Had a dream that I was part of a team of cops from the Wire and it was the last episode of season six. McNulty and Freamon were there, as well as a mysteriously resurrected Stringer Bell, now gone good. We were on the grounds of a community college campus in Baltimore on the last day of school, after the students had left. We had just finished wrapping up this season's big case or whatever. Suddenly, we could smell patchouli incense, which we followed to a common area. There, in the middle of a bulletin board, was a huge poster that read: "WHITESTOCK A Gathering of White Supremacist Tribes," ominously foreshadowing next season's adventure.

Would watch.

I was assigned to write a long-form magazine profile of one of the fastest-rising new British Youtube stars. Her name was Gummy and her thing was sticking gummi bears to her back and farting.

If that isn't actually a thing at the moment, just give it time.

I've been sick for most of a week. Here are some of the books I've dreamed into existence over the past several nights of fitful sleep (why books, I couldn't tell you, except that I'm a nerd):

-a dictionary designed and printed to precisely resemble a Yellow Pages (the illustrations are made to look like ads for muffler shops and what have you)
-a long-lost medieval tract about coughing (with descriptivegraphs resembling an isometric strategy rpg)
-a history of arson in America written by a huge Lemonheads fan who keeps making really unwieldy attempts to tie his favorite band into the story of this or that burned building (no one needs to be reminded that Dando sang about Taang Records when you're describing that Boston church fire, dude)

'The One Where Ross is Demoted to King of Only Those Birds Which Are Flightless': Rachel and Chandler are compelled to confess that Ross's sudden reduction of stature is a result of their indiscreet conversation before members of the Board of Regents; Monica asks Joey and Phoebe to sample dozens of different scone recipes for an upcoming date with a hunk who Monica doesn't realize has no taste buds

amazing tbf

My wife and I were members of a pretty famous Led Zeppelin cover band. We were also writing some sort of dissertation that was due soon. Due to some weather-related issue, Jimmy Page and Robert Plant ended up getting stuck staying with us for what seemed like a long weekend. My wife was cooking breakfast while I played music for them and we talked about classic rock. Jimmy Page totally dissed Jimmy Hendrix when I asked about him. I played them early-Yes from the early-90s box set with the yellow CDs. I got Page and Plant to write a letter to the school explaining why I was not going to be on time with my dissertation because they were hanging out.

The dream then shifted and the Zeppelin cover band was on stage. We started playing some later Zeppelin song like "Nobody's Fault but Mine." There was a woman (not my wife) who was singing while wearing a grey wig like Plant's hair nowadays. She removes the wig to reveal short blonde hair. It ends up that Page and Plant convinced us to stop being a Zeppelin cover band and to write our own music.

This isn't a recent dream I've had but one of those rare dreams I'll never forget. It was one of those dreams you have where it turns out you really haven't graduated from university because you were lacking one course you neglected to take, except my class was located inside a multi-story parking garage. It was off to the side where there would ordinarily be some parking spots but it was still really tricky parking my car inside the garage, getting out, and snaking my way around the other vehicles looking for parking spots inside said garage while I walked over where my class was being held. I don't even know what the significance of such a dream would be.

More recently, after having watched a lot of "Mock the Week" DVDs on my region-free DVD player, I had a rather, um, interesting dream starring Hugh Dennis. I think it's because he's super English-y looking and super English-y guys are my "type"; also, ever since he grew out his beard he started looking way hotter IMO. I've rarely had those kinds of dreams before.

ok brace yerselves

cruising the warehouse docklands - possibly from a sullivan/bluth effort like all dogs go to heaven, seedy darkness- for hookers and i find that one of my brothers has a bart simpson style condo in an upper floor

perfect says i, have a word, he agrees to vacate the premises and i hop down the road and procure a lady of the night for the specifics

bring her back up and have a rare ole time along the usual lines, and check that all is in order for a trad porno finish im sure m white knows a classy term for it

so i start yknow producing the goods and its like a can of cream its like a starbucks cinnamon swirl topping its all over the place

fin

and she opens her mouth and in the corniest thirties black and white gangster voice you ever heard out comes "im inspectuh shawwwn o reilly of the chicago police and you awh under arrest"

and the wig is whipped off and in that dream way its now a heavy jowled dude with five o clock shadow and honest ta fuck a cigar hangin out his mouth, the lot

still covered in jizz tho

so what do i do?

"why the fuck did you wait for me to finish you fool?"

which imo is fair question

so the brother shows up says hes a cop! the fuck would you shoot the load on a cop! the fuck would he wait for you to finish? and im all seinfeld I KNOW, RIGHT? and insp o reilly is getting super pissed off (and isnt even cleaning up or anything)

dream logic allows us to make a run for it- possibly yerman is blinded- and the whole way on the run -now through the docks from the end of dead pool (it is dead pool isnt it?) the brother is gassing himself laughing and shouting "the fuck would he wait for you to finish? jesus the state of him" over and over and i woke up on the couch muttering it to myself

now lemme tell you, i know you guys are lapping this up but when a still-groggy dmac related this is somewhat more detail to herself over the porridge this morning i was sent to coventry and no sign of a return ticket neither

normally i dont remember my dreams and thats maybe for the best idk

posting merely to confirm receipt of the information, nothing else to be said

coventrys alright actually

bart simpson has a condo?

yes thats the main takeaway for me too

Dreamed last night I was working in an art gallery and we'd had some success with an anonymous artist whose practice was "Jenny Holzer, but Dad". We were selling scrolling LED screens that read:

MAKE SURE TO TREAT THOSE AROUND YOU WITH RESPECT, BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW WHO'LL END UP BEING YOUR BOSS ONE DAY

I DON'T KNOW WHETHER IT WAS MY MARRIAGE TO YOUR MOM OR THE PASSING OF TIME, BUT ALL MY DREAMS ARE UNFULFILLED

I DON'T FIND MYSELF ATTRACTIVE AND I CAN'T STAND THE SOUND OF MY OWN VOICE, BUT IT'S THE SAME FOR EVERYONE, I GUESS

The most popular aphorism, the one that was getting printed on T-shirts, the equivalent of ABUSE OF POWER... etc., read:

I KNOW IT'S EARLY BUT I MADE YOU COFFEE

I was watching an octopus at the aquarium and imagining warily that it might emerge from its tank when, seeming to read my mind, it did just that, slithering out and then rising to approximately my own height. Its form then began to shift and shimmer until it had at last camouflaged itself as an elderly man in a green tracksuit. While I stood paralyzed with shock and amazement, it made its way to a table in the cafeteria and sat, chewing a cigar butt while it read a racing form over a plate of eggs. I tried to alert the authorities but no one would believe me. And why would they, really.

I thought Buckner and Garcia picked too obscure an author to lampoon for their comeback single, but 'Auster Goes NASCAR' just hit #1 in Canada so I guess that shut me up.

hahaha

WTF is 'examining goop' and why is it packaged in a ceramic cookie jar shaped like a hedgehog

dreamt that i was helping two brothers— apparently friends of mine — steal some motorcycles from their asshole brother-in-law. this involved gunfire, which i was not expecting. we peeled out and lost our pursuers on the streets of pittsburgh but then got massively stuck in traffic because one of the brothers chose the highway on the wrong side of the allegheny, and by the time we got home the cops were waiting for us

i was *pretty* sure this was a dream, but then i went down a level for the rest of the night where emerging from other dreams just put me back in trouble. i hadn’t known the motorcycle theft was so serious, so i hadn’t bothered with a disguise or alibi, and none of the sub-dreams helped matters

Hogception

The first ever instance of the phrase 'my taint has a whole new zip code' occurred inside my lovely brain last night.

Last night I dreamt the trailer for a horror film about a serial killing telekinetic deer named Bill. The movie is called Bill. Please see it when it comes to your local theater.

(Actually, upon reflection, I think he just uses his tk to scare people into thinking he is going to serial kill them but I don't think he actually serial kills anyone. He did telekinetically make a shovel stand up and begin digging what appeared to be a grave in what was an implied if not an explicit threat, so he's definitely a shady customer.)

I was desperately seeking a loved one who was missing and so I approached the cop car parked in the alley to see if the officer could help. As I got closer, I could see that the car was a-rockin', but I didn't care that this guy was in flagrante delicto. I needed answers now. So I rapped on the steamy back window and the perturbed cop slowly rose to glower at me, followed immediately thereafter by his partner-in-coitus, Madame (of Wayland Flowers and Madame fame).

Dreamt I was being interviewed for a job with the Council in Bristol. It was something to do with running buses and making them more environmentally friendly. One interviewer looked like Tony Pulis and the other, while not looking like Victoria Wood, had her voice and mannerisms. The interview started off in a very noisy, bright, clean open-plan office. I asked Tony if he could either speak up or move us somewhere quieter and he replied brusquely to say this was just an informal opening chat and we'd go somewhere quieter for the interview proper. We went into a second room which was just as noisy. It was bigger and there was a line drawn down the middle of the room and people were performing Shakespeare plays on the other side of the line. Victoria started asking me lots of questions about acronyms with which I was unfamiliar. I became more interested in what was out the window. I went outside, then woke up.

Wow, your dream involved acting as well!

I was going to say that this is a timely thread revive because I had a very vivid dream before I had to wake up this morning, except mine involved participating in a skit with Terry Wogan and some random person who looked like what I imagined Chuffer Dandridge to look like. I remember it starting in a room that looked like a classroom and I was basically roped into saying the final two lines of this skit, which were supposed to be the comedic punchline that tied the whole scene together. I remember staring at the script in horror, wondering how I was going to ever memorize these two lines, and then I started doodling on the script before someone grabbed me and told me it was time to get on stage. I remember panicking for a good while until it was my time to recite the two lines I was given, and then I started cursing myself for not having taken the memorization more seriously until I started to remember what I had doodled and then the image of the script page came to my mind, and I was able to utter the two lines without error. Some song started playing (I forget which one now, even though I JUST had this dream) and I remember getting commendations for my acting ability, because apparently playing as though I were flustered (even though I really was) added a nuance to the lines that made the skit even more hilarious. And then my alarm went off.

The name of the song will probably come to me later on in the day. I'll probably be doing something random and then it'll pop into my head.

A few weeks ago I had a dream that I was sent Quantum Leap style into a decade ago in order to go to Glinner's house and mute a list of words and phrases on his Twitter account.

I came across a public service billboard featuring Louis Gossett, Jr. saying 'Lewd is gossip, junior!'

Reading Lucille Ball's autobiography, I found it odd and more than a little off-putting how often she brought up the time that she and Cary Grant got into a shitting contest.

Had a nightmare about a monkey slug caterpillar last night. It was as big as my hand and when it started crawling on me I freaked out and I accidentally ripped some of its appendages off and it started whining like my dog. And everyone started blaming me for injuring it and all I could say was "no! no! it's not hurt."

Not for the first time, I dreamed a trailer for a nonexistent movie, and just now remembered that I wrote this down in the middle of the night...

Narrator (over sunny music): Jed McFarkle spent his whole life in a swamp with no bears.
Jed's friend: It's so great to live somewhere with no bears.
Jed: Yeah, I love my swamp.
Narrator: But all that's about to change. (record scratch)
Jed's mom: Son, we have some big news.
Jed's dad: Your mother got a new job and, well...
Jed's mom: We're moving to Bear Swamp!
Narrator: Now, bears are absolutely everywhere, and they're really cramping Jed's style.
Jed: How am I supposed to get ready for the big game with all these bears around?
Narrator: But sometimes, the friend you need comes in a form you didn't expect.
Sparkles the Bear: ROAR!
Narrator: A big form!
Jed: Sparkles, I love you.
Sparkles the Bear: ROAR!
Narrator: Rated R.

It's not uncommon for me to wake up laughing at the stupid things I dream.

That's awesome.

I have been having great dreams lately, but can never remember them when I wake up. But last night I had a nightmare/anxiety dream that isn't interesting enough to get into here but I can remember almost every detail.

giving me some fresh ideas for a Bearabbas character, if you're willing to collaborate on the script

I also had a dream last night that I recall less about, involving an elderly and senile Mr. T wandering into my grandparents' house (which he lived next door to) and causing a ruckus (I remember that he called the meatloaf on the table 'white supremacist loaf' at one point). Eventually, with the help of his nephew and a needlessly convoluted plan which involved some blonde '90s singer (LeAnn Rimes? Heather Nova?) recording a new song that mentioned his name several times, we were finally able to draw T. safely back to his own home.

Guy Fieri was getting arrested and

whoops accidentally hit submit.

Guy Fieri was getting arrested. I don't know why, but he was cackling with maniacal laughter. The cops had him laying on his back.

NSFW:
His pants were down. And you know those penis enlargement pumps? He had one of those on and his dick was huge. And he had one on each ball and they were the biggest, longest balls I've ever seen.