I'm No Kurosawa But...

>> Saturday, October 20, 2007

I find myself in a room, standing, watching busy people moving furniture. I have a blanket wrapped around me, I think I'm naked, I think I'm sick. Someone calls me and asks for a hand with a bed. We lift the bed; its posts hit the ceiling. The girl at the headboard starts to recreate a scene from a horror movie, I'm thinking The Exorcist but for some reason she registers like Monique Wilson with gray, muddy eyes and seaweed hair. We laugh and start lifting again. Any time now the director will shoot the scene. We put the bed down. They look at me. They're waiting for the blanket. I think I'm naked.

I'm walking, orange pillow in hand. I think I'm headed to a club. I arrive at an old building made of wood. Pillows are not allowed not even orange ones. I fold the pillow and turn it into a nice gift box with nothing in it. I suddenly have the urge to pee. To my right, a restroom sign—that way. I go to it and find myself on a rusty roof. This is the way. The restroom is on a roof. A wire fence separates the roof from the toilet. Climb over it and pee. I touch the chicken wire and get electrocuted. I squirm in my bed. I pull my hand from the wire and hit the dog beside me. The dog bites my hand, starts to chew on it. I struggle to save my fingers, sharp pins pricking my thumb. I flinch in my bed.

I'm taking a shortcut back to the club. The street is depressing, dark, gloomy. Peddlers line the streets, selling hope. A man is walking towards me. He throws something, a fan in red and white. It has feathers, it has wings, it's a bird. The bird flies in slow motion, four furry balls in different colors orbit it. The man snaps his fingers and the balls drop to the ground and bounce back to the air and turn into birds. The place fills with color from a continuous magic bird multiplicity. I want to buy one of those. I ask the man, but I look around and I'm alone.

I need to go to the club but I don't think it's a club anymore but someplace safe.
The street I'm walking on is deserted. I look back and see a giant slob of a man in caveman loincloth holding a giant mortar and pestle combo instead of the usual mace. It's an ogre. I think he's after me so I walk faster. He grinds as he walks. I'm back at the wooden building; the ogre is closing in on me. I enter slowly. I'm safe.

I'm in the suburbs. Some kids on bikes breaking chocolate milk bottles. I find a park with some colorful but peculiar looking small statues. The statues look like alien blobs with hints of a face but not much of a body. They start to move and play then stop still again. Move and play and then keep still again. Statue dance, literally.

Near the park is a tall tree. It's almost like a balete but its ropes are thicker and they move like an octopus' tentacles—fluid, calculated movements. The tree is full of fruits that look like tennis balls but in dark green felt. There's a perfect hole on the ground beside the tree and the ground slopes down to that hole. A tentacle gently picks a fruit and softly rolls it on the smooth ground. The fruit rolls into the black hole. Silence. Then a rumble. The ground starts to shake and sea waves blast through the edge of the park and flood the alien statues.

Another tentacle grabs a fruit. I think I have to stop it from rolling into the hole. I run toward it, I fail. There's a cupboard full of toys beside me. The toys come to life as the ground shakes. I grab a garbage bag and wait for the toys to jump into it. I trap them. I think I need a huge amount of glue. When the toys are all in the bag, I'll fill it with glue, they'll stick together, I'll be safe.

Wake up, I think I hear me say. Lying on my bed, I open my eyes and see myself kneeling in front of me. I'm inches away from my own face. I switch views, I see myself on my bed, groggy, drunk; I'm the sober one. I switch views again and I see the sober one say something. I can't hear the words. I hope it's not something bad. I see myself smile at me. I wake up.OUT

5 responses:

Gypsy 21 October, 2007  

Whew!! THAT is quite a dream--you must feel TIRED when you woke up! Would be good to get some interpretation going on what all these symbolize...but I'm no expert...

HRHMax 23 October, 2007  

I usually forget my dreams as soon as I wake up. It's amazing how you remember every little detail vividly. Hope you get to find out the meaning of your dream.

Jap 24 October, 2007  

GYPSY, I didn't feel tired at all, come to think of it, when I dream, it means that I'm well-rested.
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MAXIE, I usually remember my dreams. It's how I wake up I suppose. I've read that if you abruptly wake up you get to remember your dream. I've had nightmares, too. And I used to wake up from the bad ones screaming (and I thought before that it only happens in the movies). I've tried searching online for dream interpretations but it's frustrating. A dream as detailed as mine needs a bigger dream dictionary. Feel free to share your thoughts on my dream, some people have the gift for these things =)

Annamanila 25 October, 2007  

I can see that even in your dreams, you are creative. Funny, i have been meaning to blog about a recent vivid dream too. I guess if dreams are that vivid and thick of plot, there must be a message which we can pick up if we dug deep enough.

Jap 25 October, 2007  

ANNA, yep, dreams have meanings, and I think if we can decipher it correctly it's probably the most honest and unbiased thoughts we have of ourselves. Or it could be a message. Or a reminder that you left the water running in the bathroom hehehe =) Don't you just love the images you have in dreams? No special effect can duplicate that =)

TUBICLE

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Thirtysomething educator who holds the secret to the meaning of life. =P

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