perishable records home

unusual dreams

these are the collected dreams of the perishable website users. feel free to provide some ad hoc analysis via email or add your own dream

I had a dream that i was at a party, and to entertain all of the guests, i started cutting off my fingers. Everyone was amazed and thoroughly entertained. Laughter abounded. I continued to cut off all of my fingers, delighted to bring such joy to so many. Until we arrived at the hospital, only to find out that there wasn't anything they could do for me... i was to go on without fingers :(
dave <dave24dr@hotmail.com>
ok usa - Wednesday, February 13, 2002 at 22:18:04 (CST)

The dream: It's sometime in the evening. I had just woken up. I walk over to the bathroom and flick on the lights. I notice in the mirror that there are things crawling in my hair. "shit...lice." I look closer, it's not lice. They looks more like little white maggots wriggling around. I then part my hair and lean in closer only to notice they aren't maggots either. Now there was only one creature moving about...a tiny white goat with only one horn on its head. As i stare at the mirror, the goat leaps off my head, leaving magical trails as it bounces around the bathroom. END
kristina <epiphaino@hotmail.com>
ON canada - Wednesday, February 13, 2002 at 16:04:41 (CST)

I used to have this re-occuring dream where I am flying on a magic carpet through a gigantic hallway whose walls and ceilings consist of impressionistic paintings. At the end of this hallway is a huge workbench where I am placed underneath it to pound immense wooden pegs into the muddy ground below.
Jason Gould <021635g@acadiau.ca>
NS Canada - Saturday, February 09, 2002 at 20:02:25 (CST)

My dream was about there was this white horse and a hole bunch of people trying to catch it. It had no wings and was not a unicorn it was flying around.
Mel Wardle <Plum71@Hotmail.com>
- Friday, February 08, 2002 at 10:18:04 (CST)

i've lived in chicago for 4 years and have made many good friends in this lovely city but as i prepare to move i must share this strange dream with all of you. I awoke in my truly huge and enormous studio apartment located in the beautiful area of chicago know as Lincoln Park and as i walked between the 2 rooms i could hear this gentle cracking noise. crrr-crrr-crrr-crrr. i soon realized that it was not eminating from either of these sunfilled rooms but from somewhere else. As i paused in my eat-in kitchen the noise got louder CRR-CRR-CRR-CRR. now this was getting the best of my intrigue and i knew the denouement was forthcoming, i just knew it. that's when it hit me. it hit me much in the same way your mother will phone you the minute you walk in the door with your hands full of groceries and various sundries. the way your dad always knew you were keeping a bit of his gas money to buy cigarettes. the way your older brother knew you had tried to play stairway backwards. it was the turtles i had planted in the rather large walk in closet and they were ready to hatch. they could not have timed it better for i had decided recently to move back to memphis. then just as i knelt down to pet one of the turtles, the little fucker snapped and ate my left middle finger. i guess i was so startled that i awoke knowing only one thing. it was time to move back south and give up the conveniently located apartment that is a mere half block to the wellington brown line stop. i'll be taking the turtles with but the apartment has to stay and i'd like it to have a good owner before the rent goes up. if only there was a way to reach people in the chicago area who may be interested.
Savannah <savcoll@yahoo.com>
IL USA - Wednesday, February 06, 2002 at 17:29:58 (CST)

circus nets and ropes criss crossed the ceiling of this dream. a man in a blue and yellow silk costume and ballet shoes approached me with a razor blade wrapped in pink bandages. he handed it to me and told me to unwrap it and hold it in my palm. he gently closed my fingers around the blade, pressed my fist between his hands and slowly added pressure. we were looking into each others eyes instead of at my hand. his hair and eyes were dark and i found some soul in them. i made him stop with unspoken intention before i was cut too badly. i then took him through the streets looking for eye incident, i knew that she was who he needed. we found her on the tight rope and i left him and the razor blade with her...i then went into a bar and a man stood behind me who i thought that i had loved, but anxiety is not love and i never looked at him once. i emptied my pockets out onto a table. i had been carrying a 2000 year old rare copper coin with early christian religious imagery on it and a pewter bhudda head that had remnants of a clay covering. both items were tremendously powerful, but i didn't know how to use that kind power.
<juniperpearl1@hotmail.com>
MN - Tuesday, February 05, 2002 at 10:44:14 (CST)

forti i califone!!...ma me li son persi in conchetta!!!...alla prossima kisses
ago <vitto.vi@genie.it>
italy - Monday, February 04, 2002 at 13:38:12 (CST)

Here's a few to liven things up.. Dream.. I'm in a hotel with a lot of ppl from rehab. We're chillin in our rooms after curfew (I got my own hotel-style one in this dream) and then this black chick comes and knocks, I let her in. She's got this negative vibe. Then all of a sudden we're abotu to have sex -- when there's another knock at the door. It's this weird guy, mumbling to himself (shadow?) so I decide not to answer it. Well, he splits himself straight down the middle, unzipping himself kinda, forms two seperate fully-formed halves, somehow busts down the door into the room and starts chasing me around. I'm about fucked, cornered in the laundry room/kitchen, then he just says, "Hey, want a cigarette?" so I took it and went back to my room and smoked it with Black Chick. Wound up asking her if that shit really happened, even in the dream I was skeptical. FIN. Dream.. I got a phone call from someone and had to walk all the way out past the cattleguard of the rehab place and into the dusty road and used this payphone there to call it (prolly representing what happens after I get out of treatment). After talking for a while, it turns out to be my ketamine dealer. I ask him to reserve me a vial for when I got outta rehab, and he sez, "Sure, no problem." Then he comes over and vists me, and we play Chrono Trigger in my room (??) the whole time. FIN. Dream.. Infinitely complex to remember. At the end I was outside rehab, except it was in an Amazonian jungle, and this 7' bushman guy comes hopping out of the woods, doing amazing dances/stunts.. This Hindu guy tries to fight him, but the bushman loses the animal he was chasing after. The Hindu & Bushman turn out to be friends after all. Then the Bushman comes over and looks at my mom & I. He greets my mom & shakes her hand, then he comes over to me and, after shaking my hand, gives me like this weird embrace for a long time, and I got the Higher Level vibe that he was healing me on a really deep level. Then he hopped back out to the woods. FIN. Haven't had any really deep dreams since that last one a few months ago, I think it signals resolution of current issues.. Peace Out
Alberto Balsalm <mort@aphextwin.zzn.com>
TX USA - Monday, February 04, 2002 at 02:25:22 (CST)

I dreamt that my penis was one of those plastic battery operated fans with the folding blades.This was really funny to me both in the dream and when I woke up.
ryan
OH USA - Thursday, January 24, 2002 at 12:45:57 (CST)

There was some sort of WTC memorial day happening. It was probably about now, this month as the clean up efforts were still in full operation. Many more streets and pathways were opened up around the site and I was touring around looking at all of the places I hadn't seen since the attack. I began walking west from Broadway down some side streets and finally to the plaza area just past the WTC and near the atrium at the World Financial Center. There were little manicured trees everywhere covered in plastic bags for protection. The pathways were bordered by green tarps acting as guides to tell the crowds were we could and could not go. Shops were opening up along these paths and it was almost as if the area was full of holiday shoppers. But the air was full of dust just as it was the first few weeks after the attack. It was really hard to see and breath. Everything was enveloped in a very fine film of the dust/ash. I assumed it was because the digging and clean up was so near. As I walked by the shops, looking at everything I saw most curious thing. Two or three people standing in a row, were dressed in strange uniforms with little hats, it appeared almost to be a formal military uniform. Bells were dinging and as I looked closer I saw the sounds were coming from their bicycles. They were Salvation Army Officers beckoning people to come in, to give help and to accept help. Their bicycles were a very old style and were super shiny and olive colored. They were really creepy. It was all creepy, sad and so much was intact, but still so much was utterly destroyed. There were structures that looked perfectly fine next to building which sides were sheared off, with beams and debris hanging down, floors and floors exposed. Then it all became very confusing and strange. I was on a tour demonstrating escape routes from disaster areas. We were asked to try and find our way up a very steep slippery slope. Near the top there was an over-hang and above that I could see there should have been a house but the lot was empty. They only sign was a street number painted on the curb. Everyone on the tour was asian. It was a tour of Japanese seeing what it was like to escape from the WTC disaster. Everyone kept slipping and falling all around me and I had to try hard to avoid being hit by the falling bodies. It was a long way down and I knew if I slipped I would be hurt. To my right was the side of a building, I found a way to grab on to a window and hoist myself up and then jump from the sill to the over-hang. The tour guide was praising me for my efforts on a loud speaker. Helicopters were flying all over the place, the National Guard, troops were everywhere and really even though it was meant to be a memorial day, a day to remember those lost, all that was lost, a day for prayers and hope something else entirely was happening. It was almost as if the city was under military occupation and we were all in grave danger. Then I went into a restaurant that looked like a combo of Balthazar and Pastis. And inside men with guns were in every corner and at the bar and at every table. Then I knew what was really happening. At a booth I saw four men in robes and turbans. I realized it was him along with some of the Sheiks who supported him. Somehow we began talking and I was asking him about Allah and the Koran, how could he reconcile his actions with the teaching of the Koran. We kept talking and arguing. We were both crying and I wanted to kill him. I was trying so hard to stop feeling hate and vengeance, but I wanted to stab him in the heart with a steak knife from the table. It was so hard not to show my anger. We kept talking in circles and circles until nothing made sense and I was so afraid. He wanted to know why I believed that any of our lives were valuable and pointed at some women working behind the bar. The looked like they were Mestizos, such tiny little women and must have been dishwashers or porters, evryone was just staring, but trying to work hard and behave normally. He wanted to know if I really believed that they were chaste and had been only with their husbands. Allah condemned this and therefore it didn't matter if they lived or died just as it was the same for the rest of our society. Then he was back at the booth and I was talking with one of the Sheiks. He looked at me from the table laughing a bit, smiling and nodding at me. I lost my opportunity to kill him. I think I woke up then.
v.
ny - Saturday, January 05, 2002 at 22:54:00 (CST)

there are flesh colored snakes that resemble curled eels in the ground. they are half exposed like clams at low tide. they slither in the thick mud and cause me to rush barefoot around them. you pick me up, but i know your intentions are not pure. i scream for my mother. she is downstairs and my voice can't get to her. you lift me up above your shoulders and put your nose into my crotch and inhale deeply. i am weak.

- Thursday, January 03, 2002 at 09:31:09 (CST)

on an island, other islands around..theres snow on the very tops, where theres mountains. comes an avalanche, ground shaking and i knew it before it happened, i heard it happen right before from one of the other islands, the sound carried over the water. tried to tell my family..by the time the snow/avalanche gets to us it is melted and it is rivers of water pouring down from different directions. i grab my sister and im trying to find a safe spot, calculating where the water would bounce from one spot and avoid ours, like setting up a shot in pool. sad, lonely, worried vibe.

mn - Monday, December 31, 2001 at 10:54:29 (CST)

Crossing over 8th through the skyway while wiping my nose into a knit sleeve. My passages felt thick and uncomfortably plugged, so I stuck a white twisted tissue into the right nostril hoping to absorb the watery mucus. I slowly jerked out the damp hanky, and when I got to the end of it, stretching eye-level long from its spiraled tip was a miniature umbilical cord attached to a small set of teeth – dripping clear honeyed snot, gnarled and open. It turned around to a frontal full-on view of my face and I saw that the top of my nose was just a sheath or a cover for a smaller subordinate nose underneath. The second skin-jacket housing the other retracted up at an angle and back to expose it along with the cord branching out and embedded into the sides like multiple needle-like pincers. I felt intense panic and a self-conscious shock about how I must look, but was afraid to pull any of them out.
emily meghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
minneapolis - Saturday, December 29, 2001 at 19:56:59 (CST)

silver bullets gently tranquilize me
elliott <maaadkow@yahoo.com>
WI USA - Saturday, December 29, 2001 at 16:16:39 (CST)

It's actually a recurring dream that I had when I was between the ages of 5-7(approximately) and I'll never forget them because it was always the same dream and it always scared the hell out of me. So my dream is that I'm upstairs sleeping in my bed and I wake up and feel some sort of presence of some sort so I go downstairs to see what's going on, if anyone's in our house. And I was always scared walking through my house, anyway at some point I go to the living room window and peek through the curtains and there was a "man" that was just standing out in the street, just facing me, staring at me, smiling, but not a happy fun sor of smile and it would always try to get me to go outside by calling me and it wasn't a person, more of a demonic-type-thing and I would always wake up at that point sweating because I was so friggin scared.
Jared Cunningham <shemp80@hotmail.com>
PA USA - Wednesday, December 26, 2001 at 15:09:37 (CST)

i dreamed that I was being fucked in the ass. i've never been fucked in the ass before, so i thought it was a little strange
Kasi Saiful <deanween@hotmail.com>
dagobah - Wednesday, December 26, 2001 at 13:41:58 (CST)

I have 2 dreams to add! Dream 1: I dreamt my best friend was moving away from canada to asia or some where near there, in the dream i felt confused as to where she was going, and she said are you ok? and i said "im happy if your happy" and she got on the plane and i cried and i woke up crying feeling like she had actually left! Dream 2: I was sitting in my living room, in the dark, i could only see a little bit... and a man came rushing in my house (he was a robber) and he didnt know i was there until i gasped and he lunged at me and stabbed me 3 times and paniced and left without stealing anything, so my stabbing was pointless, and i was still alive and so scared to die, so i called my best friend and explained what happend and said i love you and goodbye and i hung up...then i woke up! These may seem depressing but my good dreams are dumb! haha!
Amber <amber_lcw@hotmail.com>
BC canada - Sunday, December 23, 2001 at 01:14:47 (CST)

Water had leaked into the house and down all three stories of the interior walls. Swallows were flying in my room. I laid on the bed watching them feed at an awkwardly hanging feeder in the corner. They looked more like brown Hummingbirds. I didn't understand how they'd gotten into my bedroom until I saw where the water had seperated the picture rail from the ceiling. I entered that gap and followed, in my mind, the path of the water starting outside on the roof at the weathervane and down into the house past rooms that contained lovely sleeping souls. The walls were seperating from the houses internal framework and I could see some pipes that had rusted at the points where they joined with others. The kitchen had layers of carpeting and one white plastic turf rug that lay over everything. It was coming loose at the edges from the rain water. I peeled back the layers with someone I knew, who was now on her hands and knees by my side. Underneath the carpet were colorful hollow blocks of mexican tiles layed out loosly in a random pattern. Like a grouping of fragile beautifuly painted bricks. I couldn't understand why they'd been hidden under dark layers of ugly carpeting for so many years. The End.

- Thursday, December 20, 2001 at 12:39:09 (CST)

i was having a drink (i dont drink) at a tavern on commercial street in springfield, missouri, with my landlord. she was telling me about how my horse wont run away if i just trust the animal. set the reins down and go inside. then somebody gave me an elephant. the elephant was painted white, with a bindi dot like they do in india. i asked leslie if it was the same with elephants. she said "god no! they run!" cut to me chasing a runaway white elephant through the streets of springfield. as i was running, someone threw me a handwoven hemp rope or belt(dan in oregon told me he would finish my belt, but hasn't yet) i got the rope around the elephants leg, and he became docile. i walked him back to the tavern, and we both went inside. i dropped the rope, and he stayed put. then i woke up.
coleman <mojavemoog@hotmail.com>
ca usa - Wednesday, December 19, 2001 at 02:06:26 (CST)

i dated sheila in college, bout 7 or so years ago. ...and i was talking to sheila's mom. she was sad and told me sheila had passed away. a year or more ago. she had paper angels around a shelf on the wall dedicated to her. there was a crayon drawing of a photograph of her and i and some friends at a lake. her mother said something in refence of that's some way to make love. i absently answered yea...but i remembered the warm feeling of spending time with her by the lake...i then was observing the part of her demise when she was staying with people and struggling from cancer, taking medicine...i was later in the house where she had spent the last months of her life, someone was with me and showed me a box of her clothes. they were all thrift store clothes we had bought together, many of the shirts were mine...i came across a long coat that was hers, red with embroiderey(sp) on the collar, i picked it up and smelled the collar, i could smell here perfume...i broke down and started bawling...a huge release, tears just came and came...
hyland <voodoohorizon@hotmail.com>
ca - Monday, December 17, 2001 at 11:18:38 (CST)

I was a reporter following a camera man through a narrow passage way between two houses. We were going to film a piece about where Tim Rutili had stayed while writing some new lyrics. At the end of the house there was a side door with a chain link cage around it. A pudgy man came out of this house and remained in the cage. We began to film him as he explained that this was where Tim had preferred writing when he had stayed with him. He took a deep bow and with a flourish, showed us the worn steps where Tim had gnawed the concrete away with his teeth. He explained that this gnawing had helped him to work the songs out. I bent down to look closer and saw chipped and crumbling areas at the end of each step that had recently been poorly patched with a darker gray concrete. I looked into the camera and said with certainty that my intuition told me that Tim would be back here. I then felt and heard a new Califone song that that was powerful and beautiful and somehow floated to us with the wind. It first arrived in the tree tops and then swirled down and into us. It felt really good.
Ralentando
- Friday, December 14, 2001 at 10:01:32 (CST)

laura-ben and tim represent the buddha. they tell you that the curtains don't matter. ie. material goods don't matter. move past the material realm to find enlightenment. time tells you a lie to teach you that what matters is what you know and that you must learn to trust yourself to attain enlightenment. i feel your grief about religiously inclined relatives.
hyland <voodoohorizon@hotmail.com>
ca us - Thursday, December 13, 2001 at 17:41:38 (CST)

last night i had a dream that sonic youth played here. flocks of kids were coming down the hill from bennington to see them, and i was in front, carrying a wooden loading palette. the band was at a gas station. while they were talking, i ran forward and held up the palette, which i'd painted a badger on. it said "badger has doubts loves sonic youth." i said i'd made it for them, and that if they jumped on it it'd make their feet feel nice. they didn't say anything. i heard only through rumor that kim and thurston had liked it. then i was in their house, holding a hammer close to my face. i was jumping up and down on the palette. i was jumping with the rhythm of the rain and the hammer. in another room, coco was typing a really precocious email to her friends in which she used the word 'godly' in the subject line. there was also a house a few doors down from my old one in atlanta that'd been painted blue; it had a greenhouse built onto the front, and the door swung open if you touched the handle with your toes. once inside, anything you did was made into an old black and white movie with other actors and actresses who played the role of you. i guess i was in some movie where if you spun around once your clothes came off and you stood there in laced camisoles and bloomers with ribbons; when you spun again your clothes came back. i was played by a boy. i also at one point told my sister about a dream i'd had, that i'd never really had. oh! and at the sonic youth show, people were talking about a pudding-making contest, and my friend's pudding was one of the runners-up! i was eating big pieces of red cake with chocolate frosting while it was being discussed, so i couldn't point out that i knew this pudding celebrity.
aphasia <aphasia@waste.org>
vt czechoslovakia - Wednesday, December 12, 2001 at 18:59:28 (CST)

i was having a party and some of the more religiously inclined members of my family were coming. ben and tim were coming and got there early. they started ripping up my curtains, and telling me not to worry about it. i wanted to have nice curtains for my party so i walked to an unfamiliar latino neighborhood. as i passed a store, there was a version of "bottles and bones" playing outside that was old and obviously written by someone else long ago. now i was pissed off because i had to buy curtains AND i had to confront tim about the song. i got back and everyone was at my place and having fun talking about God. i didn't care to join in, because i thought they were all nuts and how was i gonna get these curtains hung without anyone noticing? i asked tim if he wrote the song Bottles and Bones himself, and he said yes. i told him that i thought he was lying. he laughed at me and said, "so?" then he walked away and started talking to my uncle about religion again. i just wanted to throw everyone out now because my new curtains were the only thing that mattered at this point. ben just kept telling me that the curtains really didn't matter, but it just pissed me off all the more, because if he and tim would have left them alone in the first place, i wouldn't be all bent out of shape about it now.
Laura <glasskisser@adelphia.net>
NY Guatamala - Tuesday, December 11, 2001 at 13:20:04 (CST)

I am sitting at home. In this dream, home consists of a dirty mattress on the bridge over the lake in humboldt park. The mattress teeters over the water on the outside ledge of the bridge. In reality, this particular ledge is nowhere near large enough to accomodate a mattress. So maybe I am a fraction of my normal size, but this never occurs to me in the dream. I am dressed in an assortment of dirty blankets. It is very fucking cold outside but the blankets are keeping me toasty. A girl that i work with is sitting with me, looking out over the lake. She is dressed in clean, normal clothes and a heavy coat. We are conversing calmly about this or that. i can see her breath. Gradually I start to notice that pigeons by the dozens are landing on top of the blankets i wear. i don't like that idea but the last thing i want to do is open my blanket and let in the cold. Eventually I forget about my friend and become distracted by the pigeons, who are now covering my entire body except eyes and mouth. The city starts to burn. My mouth drops wide. Everything around me is burning. My first thought is the big bomb has been dropped. The pigeons and/or blankets are protecting my body from any harm. I watch the city destroyed still and silent. Upon awakening, I find that my mouth hurts.
dougdan <symptoms@graffiti.net>
- Monday, December 10, 2001 at 18:15:26 (CST)

i woke up in a motel room. actually felt like i was really waking there. a little confused. a bit out of sorts. the room was black but there were stong streaks of white light coming through the curtains, filled with smoke. i stumbled to the door and opened it. there was a pool outside and it was filled with people. some were people i knew, dead and alive. the ocean lie behind the pool i walked out. the motel was four long stips of rooms making a square. i walked around it. on the one side there was the ocean, the forest on another, the desert on another, mountains on the last. they all came right up and began outside the motel parking lot. there was a blue cadillac with keys in it and running and my impulse was to get away. i got in and began driving out into the desert. the sky was fulll of vultures and soon i was surrounded by squad cars and helicopters forcing me back to the motel parking lot. they dragged me out of the car and began beating me. i crawled back to my room and passed out just outside the door i woke up in the same bed. in the same room and walked outside again. i spent some time in the pool cleaning off and splashing around with the others. i asked them why they never left the pool, but no one would answer me. so then i headed to the ocean and tried swimming to what looked like an island, but it kept getting further and further away the more i swam to it. at one point i was swimming with dolphins and it seemed like they were egging me on to go further. i felt like i swallowed some water and started to choke. i felt the water pull me under and woke up. again, in the same motel room. i walked outside. i tried climbing the mountain this time but it just seemed to get bigger and bigger the more i got to the top. my legs felt like they weighed hundreds of pounds and i could barely lift them. i stumbled and fell down over the jagged rocks and clouds of dust were following me down like pigpen from peanuts. i came to in the motel room. this time when i walked out everyone who was in the pool were up against the walls and there were three men interrogating them and shooting them one by one. barefoot i made a break for the forest. it was full of the strangest plants, trees and flowers i'd every seen. as i was running i was looking down at my feet and blood was pouring out of them, but i didn't feel any sting. i kept running, with the sounds of the three men and gun shots trailing me. i jumped on a log and reached for a tree branch to cling to. i held on and then pulled myself up trying to hide. just as they neared i felt the branch break and i fell down. i awoke in my own bed and got up.

il - Monday, December 10, 2001 at 15:26:11 (CST)

i go into a room with 2 beds holding 2 resting couples. there is a woman in the middle of the room, quietly writing at a lamp lit desk. she looks up at me and frowns as though i'm a disturbance or an interruption. i don't care, i've just spent the first part of the dream naked, waiting for hours in an exam room and the dr. never came. a man jumps up from the bed and flutters a paper request in front of my face. i know him, yet he asks for my name. he needs to fill out a release form if i'm to leave. i look at him and sarcasticly ask him if he really doesn't know my name. he seems embarassed and begins to fill out the form. i feel hands vibrating on my ass and an angry voice from another room shouts to me that they want their pie. i half wake - paralyzed and aware that the hands on my body aren't human.
T
- Friday, December 07, 2001 at 09:30:24 (CST)

I was standing in line at a store and there was a lady with a broken nose who had obviously just been the victim of some horrific domestic violence. She was wearing a cheap gold plated cross and her husband moved in front of her. All I could make out was the cross in the space beneath his bearded chin. Maybe it was my eyes focussing in but it appeared that the cross began to grow. It began to drag her into a crack that was widening every second in the floor. Her husband's grin also grew. The ceiling faded away and Jesus decended in an ornamented canoe. The lady reached for him but it was if we were all under water and he just passed away overhead.
brett <thedemilo@hotmail.com>
IL us - Thursday, December 06, 2001 at 16:36:55 (CST)

i'm a sinner finding evening drizzle again. maybe i'm just falling, not sleeping. feel nothing but crush.

- Monday, December 03, 2001 at 13:10:49 (CST)

When I go to hell, it's gonna be like a comic book... there is a good one called The Darkness with lots of disproportionately-drawn women (not grossly, though) and demons and zombies... lots of contemplation of the darker sides of the collective soul-state (no 90's alternative band jokes/references please)and a fair amount of unreal, gratuitous violence... which reminds me of this dream I had last night. It was like my version of Twin Peaks in a snapshot or something. I was walking at night through what seemed to be the Vine 'hood in Kalamazoo (student ghetto). And I cut through this alley/house where I walked through a doorway, and all of a sudden I was in this tight space with only one way out at the other end and wooden walls, tall and red and yellow, on either side and wood floors, and streetlight-quality luminescence. then these two thugs appear at the other end (i.e. only way out). I am wearing my back pack and I decide, even though I've never been in a fight, to be brave and charge really fast, and one guy has a knife, and it all happens really fast. but i get through semi-okay, i guess. and soon i am in a big auditorium/gymnasium-like place that feels like school or something bec. that's the attitude most of the people emanate, really serious and intent. and they don't notice my arms, which are all cut up. this is the most clear part of the dream. my entire forearms are pocked with these torn knife cuts and there are a couple of tears. it is very graphic. but somewhere as i am walking through "school" looking for my girlfriend, and i keep seeing different friends of mine, esp. Rick who always excessively worries about some shit, i am wearing a long sleeve shirt. and i think i finally find my girl, but i am not sure, cuz i wake up in there somewhere... i can still see those arms of mine.
dc comics <keepitsimple7@yahoo.com>
MI western - Thursday, November 29, 2001 at 09:49:24 (CST)

I had a dream one time when I was very ill. Infact, the dream was one of those dreams that kept on coming back. It was a flying dream. One of the last flying dreams I remember having. I was flying around what I think was Mars and I had this crazy looking gun. The gun looked like a super soaker. I I started falling very slowly and when I looked up. I saw the big metal robot from the movie, The Black Hole. He didn't like me. Thats all I remember from that. Stephen
Stephen <downsong@msn.com>
mo Untied States - Tuesday, November 27, 2001 at 18:15:56 (CST)

A friend of mine had a dream that she was sitting on a swing, and a girl was sitting on the swing beside her. i'm not sure, but i think her friend was swinging and she was still. She was wearing something red on her head. During the same night, her friend had a dream that she was swinging on a swing, and sitting on the swing beside her, was another girl wearing something red on her head!!!! WEIRD!!!!
Omar <o_ghish@hotmail.com>
Jordan - Tuesday, November 27, 2001 at 14:11:22 (CST)

Dreamt I was tripping between my two lips, as I was attempting to explain to Jonathan how these four rocks had come through my window and into the bed. Prior to their arrival, I told him I thought I’d heard someone knocking outside the sill, and I knew that ‘someone’ to be male. The stranger had managed to silently pitch them all past and through the rusted blue screens and tightly sealed shutters. They’d landed alongside my upper-right arm and seemed to solidly stick there by will – clinging cool and like coal. I shifted my position and rolled over to ask him who he thought it could possibly be - and just as my heady side settled into the soft pillow, I saw that the slate-like stones had been ground into fine glinting gravel and stuffed into his then empty eye sockets.
eMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
mn united states - Sunday, November 18, 2001 at 17:53:16 (CST)

i dreamt everything in my room was made of wood: the bed, the sheets, lamp, the pilows, the pens, the blinds, the walls, everything, and it had the warm polish of madronna...in the dream i was also in bed sleeping...the only thing in the dream which was not wood were the red digital numbers on the wooden alarm clock...i realized that i could leave my body and go through the door out into the city, but first i had to learn to control the numbers on the clock with my mind...(to go into the city was a special prize)....i was trying to do this and was floating around the room as i got better at exerting some influence over the numbers, but then when i was almost good enough to choose the number i would change them into, my housemate in real life woke me up from the dream and asked me if i had a stamp pad.......the bastard (he needed the stamp pad for an art project so i guess it was ok)
Justin <Contact@BiographyOfFerns.com>
WA USA - Sunday, November 18, 2001 at 17:45:27 (CST)

I had a dream that I was driving. Then i realized that I was going the wrong way. So, without really looking I commenced into a U-turn. As soon as the front of my car was in the other lane I realized that I had wedged the nose of my car into the middle of a funeral procession. Then I started freaking out because everyone was honking at me and I started to get stressed, I threw the car into reverse and floored it. Then there was a bang, I slammed my car into the hearse. Thats about when I woke up. Jeremy.
Jeremy <jakay@hotmail.com>
ON Canada - Thursday, November 15, 2001 at 02:17:03 (CST)

I dreamed that Orso continued their tour past Austin into New Orleans.....
Colby <colbyspath@yahoo.com>
- Wednesday, November 14, 2001 at 15:24:16 (CST)

awoke in a dreary state from a late night nap convinced that I had a premonition that, to the right of me, the other side of the room was a portal to the past, and that the light oustide my window was a portal to the future. I went back to sleep in my room (to the right) and it hasnt happened again, yet.
Jon
MI - Tuesday, November 13, 2001 at 19:36:05 (CST)

I had some amazing dreams last night. they were about a mythical New York. I've never been to the real New York except for the airport so this is not rooted in any fact. I was riding on an aboveground train over a landscape of railroad tracks, old factories, and industrial what not. As far as the eye can see in any direction. It went on and on and was utterly beautiful. I thought to myself - now I know where Sonic Youth get their guitar sounds... That was entering the city. In my dream, the "Hudson River" crossed right through the middle of the city. It was only about waist deep and many people would walk right through the river during the day as a shortcut. People in business suits carrying briefcases walking right down the middle of the river. Then, at lunch time, all the construction workers and blue collar types come running and leap into the river. Thousands of them. They just leap in a lay there in the water like sea cows. I was looking down from a tall building and could see 'em all. mid aged overweight bald guys with dirt under their fingernails curled up underwater like innocent unborn babes... Also, the elevators in New York were always full to capacity. In the dream I also had an infant child. I think I lived in a loft. The infant was growing fast. I thought that I wasn't spending enough time with the little baby, it was growing fast and soon it would no longer be a baby. All night I had these dreams. I'd wake up and then go right back to the same dream. I attribute it to the vast amount of seafood I ate this weekend. Fresh squid, fried calimari, baby squid, New Zealand green lip mussels, scallops, salmon, walleye, shrimp... I must've eaten three pounds of it. Plus all the red wine...
Tony <tonymog@hotmail.com>
- Tuesday, November 13, 2001 at 13:15:55 (CST)

i dreamed that i was a blender at a happy bar. i got to make drinks for people, and watch them smile because i made drinks that tasted yummy. *stars* m.
melissa plum <plumrain@hotmail.com>
va usa - Sunday, November 11, 2001 at 22:30:04 (CST)

in fact everyone knows she's a cat. & it was her

- Friday, November 09, 2001 at 13:05:26 (CST)

I had a dream that Drinky had a few too many yachtsmans & had nightmares like in Dumbo. She would never sign something "Drinky the cat." She knows she's a cat.
The Is
- Friday, November 09, 2001 at 13:03:51 (CST)

my friend had a dream... that someone with her name had a dream... but it wasn't her
drinky the cat
- Friday, November 09, 2001 at 12:49:06 (CST)

I opened a bedroom door to find you startled on the bed and blinking. Wordless explosion of thoughts and feelings and memories made me shut the door. I opened the next door and stepped into a red carpeted room and lay down on the bed beneath a canopy of grapevines. I fell asleep and dreamed that I was a floating ghost trapped in a stairwell. I woke up still dreaming and now I really was a ghost. I couldn't turn on the light because my hand would move through the switch. People would pass me unaware of my pleading for help. Only a few could hear snippets of what I was saying and they responded with strange matter of fact advice. Like drink a glass of milk and be still or dust all the spindles on the railing and then you'll be able to use the telephone.
Gil
- Friday, November 09, 2001 at 12:09:52 (CST)

there is a modern house for sale and as we walk by i know that i've bought it. the rooms are all circular walls of glass suspended above pools of water that flow into the house and blur the edges. we sort of stroll in trying to act casual. it's still occupied by the owners, there's alot of moden art on the walls and shiny metal surfaces that reflect the water and glass and maybe some retarded people. i am kind of showing off by bringing him here. "this will be mine," ego driven... we leave and i notice that the for sale sign has changed to another company and no longer has a sold sign hanging from it. the yard is ice and dirt. we walk down hill to the street. i think that maybe he's impressed, but since i'm not really relating to him, i'm not sure. we part and i walk downtown. it's night and i try to flag down a camouflage painted bus from the middle of the street. all the cars are covered in advertisements that loom in too close and large for me to read. im surrounded by speeding light and sound. i begin to feel a little bit trapped when she pulls up in a lemon yellow cadillac from the seventies with some guy by her side. i slide into the low riding back seat which has been replaced by a couch that leans into the trunk. it's upholstered with towels that have a two-toned print on them. i'm reclined so far back that i have to look up at the yellow velvet ceiling. she drives and fills me in on her love life, fringe behavior, sneaking around, her companion wears leather and does not speak. i can feel "her people" that we drove away from and they aren't the nicest bunch...we stop the car at a city park and walk down hill to a polluted lake. i am wearing a peach silk evening gown and heels. we walk along the edge of the water in between two groups of people that i've known. my attire makes me stand out, i walk away from who i want to be with and twist my my ankles on the rocks. there are piles of weeds and garbage floating in the water. i start to crawl in it and when i stand up i know that my dress is plastered to my body. i want him to put his glasses on and notice my shape.
Jess
- Friday, November 09, 2001 at 09:55:32 (CST)

i was at a club with my boyfriend orlando. We were sitting, talking , enjoying a martini. Orlando had said something funny when my best friend robert came up behind us and joined ni our conversation. After a while i started to notice that roert was hitting on me and orlando was getting very ticked off. after a while orlando told robert to shut up and kissd me. things seemed to calm down ntill when we came home. for some reason i was home wth both of them at the same time... Orlando started taking his shirt of and reached for me. he slowly opened my legs and slid himself into me. we had sex. i dont know were robert was at this time.. i then fell asleep. i do knot know wat happened but when i awoke orlando was no longer ther. he was replaced with robert staring at my naked body. robrt came over. he kissed me. i slowly bent down and unbuckled his pants. i then gave him had and made sure that he enjoyed it , going up and down, sliding his dick in anf out of my mouth... i then woke up
Patty <Girlwithclass107@aol.com>
ny usa - Thursday, November 08, 2001 at 16:32:50 (CST)

I walked to a sailboat on the bank of a river that wound through a canyon. I was with my grandfather and others from the past. As we boarded, he gave me sailing instructions and a warning - never allow the boat to touch the canyon walls. He didn't go with us. It was a party. The boat began moving and we all went below deck. I pulled out a feathered gown and put it on my friend. We placed him on top of the refrigerator and wrapped feather boas around his neck. Someone put dark lipstick on his lips and I opened a cupboard behind him filled with cookbooks, one of them read , A Set Stylists Silent Surprise. I found the necklace I was looking for and tied it around his head so that the gem stone would sit in the middle of his forehead. I announced that he was the beauty police. I went to check on the boats course and saw that we were going the wrong direction. I pushed against the cliff walls and easily turned the boat around.
Tristessa
- Monday, November 05, 2001 at 10:02:08 (CST)

Sean, it sounds like you are having severe problems with your masculinity. The metal tower is obviously phallic. The zombies are all those inner femininities which desire to devour you, but you are afraid to let go and become a woman, so you retreat further and further into an exaggerated machismo. In the end, it seems inevitable, though, that you will have a sex change -- or at least start crossdressing. (Five cents please.)
Noone Special <noonespecial@dockboggswasgoodatthebanjo.edu>
oh United States of America - Friday, November 02, 2001 at 07:33:14 (CST)

I'm not sure where I was at, but all I could remember was being in some kind of junk yard area being chased by zombies. I then ran into this gigantic metal tower where I thought I was safe. Then I had to leave for some unknown reason. I got down and had to kill off some zombies, but there was to many and they started to eat me. I died, then I woke up.
Sean
- Tuesday, October 30, 2001 at 21:28:57 (CST)

red and blue termite eggs were a problem. they were florescent and that's why we had to leave. up hill, down hill, and up again, on and on. silent motion of limbs climbing and descending. i remember long lines of hurried capes that fluttered and stretched out like dark flags down the entire hillside. a fearful parade. swamp feeling underfoot and then we were in it.
juniper
mn - Friday, October 26, 2001 at 09:52:17 (CDT)

we keep firing, bodies pile up, and they just keep coming
Dave <hinckley2001@earthlink.net>
PA - Friday, October 26, 2001 at 06:28:03 (CDT)

i went to get shoes at the foot locker andd they stole my shoes and locked them up. i called the pizza shop for a sub they quickly hung up afte saying that will be 58 million dollars. there was a submarine in my gold fish pond outback less than 10 mins later,i tipped the delivery guy a 5 million dollar tip.i wore an addidas shirt to work and i couldnt stop dreaming about soccer, and i never played it before.i caught a cold and bought some halls then i got lost in them.after reading the surgeon generals warnin on a pack of smokes i still lit one up, suddenly a tumor grew out my ass.i went to buy a mustang and they gave me a saddle and threw me on a horse, there i was 1 horsepower going down the highway. then i woke up
john
- Friday, October 26, 2001 at 03:56:33 (CDT)

ok i was in the middle of doing britney spears when her x boyfriend justin timberlake came drivin at me with his porshe tryin to hit me. he went right through the window and then got stuck under the bed. i began to beat him with my slipper. then the whole n synch gang came after me but the backstreet boys and insane clown posse both had my back. It was a brutal fight.we won though and took britney as our prize. me and brian got smoked together and he admitted to me he was gay cuz he was so high. i was like ugh man so i kicked him out of my crib.i went on to produce a record called "mo money mo problems" and then got shot. britney was there to ease me through my death so it made it not so bad.when i died i just woke up.
matt <cobblestone615@aol.com>
pa usa - Friday, October 26, 2001 at 03:44:46 (CDT)

i met a beautiful woman and we went to a restaurant called On Top of Birds. and served atop a dead pigeon were my sunny- side up eggs.
john k.
il - Thursday, October 25, 2001 at 00:45:27 (CDT)

mighty darn fine. your hair is longer now but the story is the same. blow it off becuase i'm tough, yet i didn't want to wake today. leaving this place would deny fantastic. imperfectly asked how could I be removed when everything is pulling in. simple. its like the flimsy line of a frustrated fly-fisherman. every gesture spoke louder than the snooze. and every whisper hushed every wrong move. she leaned in to tell but I did not listen.
Jon
MI 10/11 sucked for everybody - Tuesday, October 23, 2001 at 19:29:56 (CDT)

this ones been nibbling at me for days- childhood backyard. speakers strung up around yard. i start to wander in a circle below them. a foxlike creature runs in front of me now and the speakers become huge, bright lights, with a central light at it's axis; like a carousel with no bottom. as the fox runs he turns around to look at me pointedly while the lights swoop down on their axis twords him. he turns around and they go back up. he does this a couple of times and suddenly i get really freaked out- i realize his point is that he can control nature. i run around the backyard and start to frantically unplug the thick electrical chords that are hanging in the air. it is still happening though. my dad comes up and says he called the power company and they said not to tell the neighbors but we are somehow conducting energy from their lines through our backyard. really freaked now...this gets really long so i won't go into all of it, but at the end my dad is nude and has decided to wrestle the fox, in this really "aha! i've got it!" old gentleman manner; i'm upstairs watching from the porch. my dad dissolves/vanishes, leaving only a white v-neck t-shirt on the ground as an emblem. the fox looks at me pointedly again and say's telepathically "what? you think i wouldn't win? this is nothing.".
r
- Saturday, October 20, 2001 at 14:41:24 (CDT)

So, here's my dream. I walk into this room and there are 4-7 kittens wearing little leather diapers and riding around on little tricylces. And they're talking, but it's all like "Fshoo ooo oop deee neee neeeeee!" in tiny falsetto voices. Not really cat noises though, cartoon cats, maybe.
Adan <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MPLSMN UXA - Wednesday, October 17, 2001 at 18:03:38 (CDT)

a full-sized bull crawled into the driver's side of my wife's car, with it's front legs over the steering wheel. Then it pissed in the floorboard.
tL
- Saturday, October 13, 2001 at 19:54:52 (CDT)

i was lying in my bed, asleep, and i woke up as a man in a service-person uniform came into the bedroom, very professionally, with something that looked like a big old-fashioned cellular phone and i was a little surprised but not scared and he put the phone-like thing down in the center of the bed and then walked to the window. it was my voice, recorded, coming out of the phone. it sounded like me leaving an answering machine message. from years ago. i am cleverly insulting a customer service representative. it all sounds vaguely familiar, i'm vaguely remembering saying all this stuff as i hear it. it's not a message i left though, it's a recorded conversation, there's a man's voice in the conversation now too. i sometimes drift off in mid-sentence, and i can't remember if i was faking it or if i was genuinely drifting off, drunk or maybe overdosed on something. i think i was pretending, it was part of the clever way of fucking with this phone guy. because he or his company somehow provided me with poor customer service. listening to it i feel proud and embarrassed and fascinated. then i remember that there's a man in my room and i look at him and he is looking out the window casually as the recording plays.

- Wednesday, October 10, 2001 at 08:14:16 (CDT)

i was having a barbeque. i was out there talking to people, and my yard was like a small, run-down farm. there were chickens and large dogs in pens made up of low, crooked fences. i owned my neighbor's garage too, and many of the animals lived in there. i had this sick feeling because i realized that i hadn't been feeding any of these animals in a long time. maybe even never. maybe the only time they ever get fed is when i have a party. a man i haven't seen in a while is there and he's feeding the dogs little treats from his pocket. they were his dogs and he gave them to me and i know he must know that they're sick and starving but he doesn't say anything about it to me. then a guy i don't recognize is there, middle-aged, black t-shirt, dirty jeans. he has a forked stick in his hand and he looks unpredictable, and no one else appears to know who he is either. he goes back in the area between the two garages and starts to attack and kill a dog whose leg was broken, and i'm at first scared and then i think that maybe he's doing this mercifully, to put the dog out of its misery. then he starts to kill another one. all eyes are on him. i am going to different people, trying to get them to tell me what to do or to go stop the man or at least give me their opinion. secretly i'm glad that this is happening because all of the animals are so sick and i've been so neglectful and i know that after all these people leave i'll forget about the poor animals again. as i was waking up, it occurred to me that i could have called 911. or jumped in the pen with the killer and finally felt something physical in a dream for the first time in a long time, instead of always watching.

- Tuesday, October 09, 2001 at 07:57:42 (CDT)

why don't you guys change the name of this page to "love-notes, poems and misc. ramblings"? i'm serious.

- Thursday, October 04, 2001 at 19:23:48 (CDT)

i'm waiting for the world to become beautiful again, alone, sitting on the edge of a small black lake amongst scratchy marsh reeds and cat-tails. i'm looking across the water at wilting cypress trees and weeping willows. the sky appears faded, filtered through murky hot sunlight and motionless yellow air. the grass and trees are thirsty. my soul is thirsty. i've seen this landscape in a painting and i'm watching for a change in the light,looking for the moment captured by the painter. i know it's here, i can feel it. i'm waiting in complete stillness. i'm alive, but the world seems suspended, as though dying, and it is. i sense something around me gathering. the air feels like the moment before lightning, before creation, charged with intention. suddenly the landscape is in motion and i observe and experience an absolute pulling together, a swirling beyond words that flushes and fills everything with a brightness that resembles perfectly the painters original vision. the leaves drink in a deeper green and the sky becomes a delicious cobalt...i feel that the world is suddenly alive and lovely again. a four-wheeler drives into view. he sluggs the last of his beer, throws the can over his shoulder and dissappears over a hill.
mezzotint
- Tuesday, October 02, 2001 at 10:59:00 (CDT)

reached around the front seat and stroked your stubbled chin, you kissed my hand and held my fingers in your own, feeling them. i turned around to speak to you and say your name, but i realized it was someone else who had given me their affections, and the person i mistook you for happened to be sitting next to you, like a close brother sharing the same short haircut.

- Friday, September 28, 2001 at 11:45:12 (CDT)

I dreamt that Tiger Woods was really a duck (he was like a minatour but with the duck/woods combo instead), but nobody would believe me! How could they not see? When I woke up i was so startled i was afraid to get up off the couch and move to my bed. That's scary.
golfer
- Thursday, September 06, 2001 at 15:27:30 (CDT)

test
test
- Thursday, September 06, 2001 at 14:25:23 (CDT)

You find me at the old penthouse apartment on Park. I'm not really sure what I'm doing, something at a table with a good friend who is fading. She's been dead for awhile now and it's strange being there, the closets are still filled with her clothing, but all the surfaces have been cleared of her collections. I open one of the the closets and look for her formal dresses from the forties. I take out a rose skirt with turquoise beading winding like vines along the waist and hold it up, but don't put it on. The phone rings as I'm wandering around the place looking for more signs that she was really here at one time and find some old black and white pictures, group shots...The call is for me and the conversation went something like this. "I saw you the other night in the field." I remember standing in an informal cicle near him, he is wearing green and holding a white guitar. I ask him what I did, I have a half memory of helping him load up. "Nothing, you left, can I see you?" Yes. He picks me up and he holds me immediately and we're crying and kissing and it feels like home and all beautiful things....The van is in motion, but no one is driving. A female voice from the back seat says, "I didn't know you were a magnet." He answers, "Yes, she is."
anybody
- Thursday, September 06, 2001 at 09:27:15 (CDT)

I had this dream that Perishable artists rarely if ever play in New Orleans...and it came true.
Colby <colbyspath@yahoo.com>
- Wednesday, September 05, 2001 at 15:05:24 (CDT)

woke up with this- it wont hurt. i woundn't hurt you. sleepless sleep, a new place, it's innocent, always.

- Tuesday, September 04, 2001 at 08:35:16 (CDT)

i have to let this one go…my name began here and this is where you get to experience me, and up until this point there was nothing but blanks. So you put your creation out (for what or whom??) and we knew that i’d eventually run into it – and now it seems I have. Cornered again - brick and mortar crumbling cornerstore selling candied lips stuffed with vacant cardboard bins of confectious offerings, that leads me to wonder what it is I’m actually buying – detachment?
subsonic
- Friday, August 31, 2001 at 22:37:21 (CDT)

it was really sunny in this dream. a powdered, mustached man was driving a cadillac by sparkling lake michigan. he was wearing a white tux and fixing his black bow tie in the mirror singing, "i'm just a dapper working class man..." as i was discovering human bones and bloody letters. i wanted to burn the words.

- Wednesday, August 29, 2001 at 08:03:34 (CDT)

we are staying in a hotel of your choice. dorm feeling, rooms upon rooms that contain rows of beds filled with mostly lesbian couples, some have kids. i am uneasily following the bell boy and i don't want to stay here. i want quiet, you don't care, i want walls, you don't notice, whatever. you fall asleep immediately, i'm stressed and wondering can i be flexible? no. cooperative? no. relaxed? no. i hate it here. i try to wake you and insist that we get the hell out, i just need some walls...you roll over and turn you back to me. i shout, "you fucking bitch!" and storm out of that human stable totaly enraged. it never occured to me in the dream that i could just leave with out her...three big women follow me, they are pissed and drag me back to her bed, she is gone. scared now, i try to wrestle free so 2 sit on me and one holds my head in her lap. they are lecturing me about the word bitch in this hard ass motherly sort of way. and i scream, "let go of me! i was in a mental hospital and this is so NOT GOOD FOR ME!" i lost it hugely, crazy sort of crying and wailing and screaming and gnashing of my teeth. i calmed down and one of the women pulls her t-shirt up to show me her recent breast surgery, there are iodine stains in the folds between her chest and breast and two pomegranate seeds protruding from her solar plexus. i ask her if she increased or decreased - decreased.

- Monday, August 27, 2001 at 08:43:28 (CDT)

i am in a college class, my instructor looks very much like helen hunt (may be her image but she's not herself, she's this instructor). the subject is fiction, maybe even humorous fiction. there are at least 30 people in the class, and it's the end of the semester, so most are well developed characters. i know a lot of their names. i am not friends with anyone, although a couple of the guys seem to have crushes on me. in fact, there are almost no women in this class, it's mostly young guys, several gay guys. the teacher hates me. she is having an affair, and it's something she's doing a poor job of hiding, it's sort of just common knowledge. she's young, maybe 30, and seems bored with teaching already. i don't like her either. there are several scenes that i watch and really don't interact in, classroom scenes where characters are developed, all the details are there, i had no idea it was a dream. odd thing: the class takes place outside, in a sort of miniature (narrower) calm and blurry jewel parking lot (don't usually notice the blacktop and yellow parking slots painted on the ground, it's sort of all soft-grey), and the sidewalk area right in front of the jewel is the front of the classroom (like the wall of windows is the wall of the room). this class is the whole dream. several different days, but nothing else takes place but this class. on the day of the final, we are supposed to improvise a short comedic scene. we are already in costumes from something else (i have what looks like powdery caked-on curdled milk (doesn't smell though) on my face and hands, and am wearing regular clothes, some people have really elaborate costumes). i sit through these routines, they're all taking place up at the sidewalk/front of the room/stage, although i remember one that started in the parking lot/classroom and moved forward. people perform in different-sized groups, from 3 or 4 up to 8 or 9. the biggest group is a real world cast, although no one actually says that, i just know it. i know my turn is going to be last, and i am going to go alone. i have a tiny idea of what i'll do, and i'm not thinking about it too much. i'm not putting any pressure on myself to be funny, either. i figure i might totally bomb, and that's ok. and i figure the teacher hates me anyway and i'm not going to be graded fairly. occassionally it occurs to me that if i completely wow the whole class, she'll have to give me a good grade. at those moments, i think a little bit about what my skit will be. but mostly i'm just watching other people's. they are all unique and vary in quality. at the end of one, this overweight guy with black and white face paint comes over and we give each other a fake kiss on the side of the face. he's excited about how his performance went. he's taking off his makeup (revealing badly-scarred skin) and i start to rub mine off too. in some areas it stays, like patches of peeling white skin, like dried glue that won't completely rub off. i'm saying something like that i'm going to get screwed out of time for mine. helen hunt/teacher is talking to me. i go to her and i can't tell if she's saying "no performance" or "short performance" to me. i make her repeat it several times. she's not making any sound and the room is noisy, it's the last day. i have to read her lips. i suck at this, and i'm thinking too much while trying. finally, i say "short performance?" and she shakes her head. i say "no performance?" and she nods. i get pissed. i am also a little relieved that i don't have to perform and possibly suck, but i don't let on about that. i am storming out (through the classroom to leave the parking lot, it really is an open space) and then i stop and announce something dramatic to the entire class. i am walking down the street, it's like an almost empty taste of chicago, booths but almost no people. helen hunt/teacher catches up with me. i reprimand her a little, then ask her for the name of her dean and pull out a pen and a crumpled, written-on photocopy from a class. she is scared. she starts to say his name, and then admits that he's right in front of us (he's sitting on a stool at a podium a few feet ahead). he's a black man with a beard, but quickly becomes a white man with a beard and stays like that for the rest of the dream. looks like a cross between nathan lane and kevin smith. i start to tell him what happened, to get her in trouble. he's trying to read my crumpled up paper, i have to explain it. he's distracted and i'm not winning. i am a little scared that i'll have to go back to the class and perform, so i start making my complaining funny, figuring that if i prove myself in this unspoken way that he'll just tell her to give me a good grade. he is completely charmed by me, i do not have to go back to class and the teacher is shamed (for screwing me out of time and also during my rant i bust her on cheating- it turns out the dean is her husband). the end.
albatross
- Sunday, August 26, 2001 at 09:09:12 (CDT)

is there a highway 63 in chicago? i dreamt i was there, actually getting chased out of there, and i crossed an overduct with an entrance to 63 West. to jon, it would be brilliant if we really had a parade day that people could show off their "schizophrenic OCD" tendencies. god, it'd probably be one of the most truley beautifull parades ever with everyone showing off in colors and costume all of their fucked up strangeness and rolling around in it giddily. unfortunately for now they have to repossess their shit into vintage cars...
proudly OC
- Sunday, August 19, 2001 at 09:09:06 (CDT)

?
this is not a dream until we wake up <http://www.woodwarddreamcruise.com/>
- Friday, August 17, 2001 at 15:24:24 (CDT)

This weekend marks the 7th annual Woodward DREAM Cruise, where thousands of well-to-do retirees and mid-life-crises-hot-rodders congest Michigan's #1 highway, Woodward Avenue, with various and unidentifiable classic, restored, and re-cock-ulous machined vehicles, also known more simply as cars. Bumper to bumper, dash to dash, folks will flock to this otherwise overlooked metropolis just to gawk from street corners and temporary bleachers at a million other folks who obsess over transportation and show off their schizophrenic/OCD tendencies at "2 miles per hour so everybody sees me". (i thank the fresh prince for that last tidbit, ahh summertime!!) Interestingly enough, the post-industrial monument of Detroit is left out of this supposed "dream" cruise, (which extends from the beginning of suburbia's sprawl [i.e. white-flight] to the city of Pontiac), despite its being the vehicular originator of such occult activity, not to mention the origin of Woodward Avenue. Known as a mecca for creativity, as well as a decrepit wasteland of steel and abandoned factories, DETROIT again has recieved the shaft, but this time we can thank our prosperous neighboring communities. As an estimated $55 million will help to repave our roads so we can continue to commute to and fro our vast mecca of strip-malls and suburbia dreamland, the Detroit People Mover will continue to circumnavigate in one direction its 2.9 miles of downtown with four cars, a total of thirteen stops are probably more easily made on foot. Plans to expand the People Mover have been continually shot down for years becuase it would cost way too much money, plus we make make cars damnit, really, there's nothing wrong with that black soot coming from the SMART buses. Or perhaps we've been exposed to too much carbon monoxide, and we believed them when they said that buses were a SMART idea. This weekend i hope I dream that everyone else on Woodward has forgotten to buckle up except me, becuase you can bet you're fancy-ass spoiler that I may turn into Mad Max with a bad case of road-rage and clip some fool ... To the rest of the world, sorry that we let Detroit go like that, we were too busy restoring our muscle cars. (also, goodbye golddollar) -june woons
jon- reporting traffic from MI <http://transitdetroit.freeservers.com/>
Disarray USA - Friday, August 17, 2001 at 15:22:51 (CDT)

oohhh, i hate that feeling. i get it too. hope it fades in you. re: "The only bad thing was that I saw some of my family and they acted as though I was not there. (As usual), I felt conscious of being apart from them. It is extremely lonely if you are one who has no family to be family with. I woke feeling too alone. "
wish i was <a dolphin>
- Thursday, August 16, 2001 at 11:00:48 (CDT)

There was an extremely foul smell in the apartment. We hadn’t seen the guy next door in a long time. If he was there, surely his air conditioner would be on. The temperature was averaging in the 90’s daily. My husband thought the smell was like human waste. Our interpretations of human waste were different. I was not surprised when they told me there had been a dead body of an unknown woman found in the area under the stairs where the trashcans were kept. After this was over with and the police had asked all of their questions, there was a convention I had to attend. Everyone was asking me about what they had seen on the news reports where I’d been interviewed. The floor and many things in the convention were so immaculately white. I was not in heaven, however I imagine that symbolically all of the people, the conversations I had there and what was said were all good. The only bad thing was that I saw some of my family and they acted as though I was not there. (As usual), I felt conscious of being apart from them. It is extremely lonely if you are one who has no family to be family with. I woke feeling too alone.
DeepCDiva
- Thursday, August 16, 2001 at 01:22:05 (CDT)

a beautiful woman in a flowing red dress with big ruffles on the skirt like a salsa dancer would wear led me down staircases and through passageways and tunnels for what felt like forever in dreamtime. even tho' i'm pretty much terrified of small, confined, underground spaces she was really fucking beautiful and i loved the dress so i didn't protest much. finally she stopped and left me where i was. i don't know where she went but suddenly she was gone and i was stuck down there, lost and alone in the style of poe's "cask of amontillado" except i wasn't walled in; just completely ignorant of how to get back to the surface. i started crying hysterically and soon forced myself to wake up. i had to watch a half -hour of sportscenter before i could get back to sleep. the huge tigers/royals brawl reminded me that all is right with the world as long as baseball players can get that excited about a relatively unimportant thing like one game between two terrible teams. cubs rule!
maria
militiagan - Saturday, August 11, 2001 at 11:44:33 (CDT)

what was it like to be a ghost? could you touch any one? could you still feel? ive been a ghost.
why was sigmund <up there 4 times?>
- Friday, August 10, 2001 at 11:19:01 (CDT)

i dreamed i was a ghost, or what it must feel like to be a ghost.

- Friday, August 10, 2001 at 09:41:14 (CDT)

fuck the 21st century. fuck most centuries, actually.

- Friday, August 10, 2001 at 00:23:30 (CDT)

to understand it i think you'd have to know if she is sexually repressed or not. if she is, it's a good sign (the dream, at least the last par,t and i dont think it means she bisexual, i think the maiden is her both times.) what's odd to me is that i cant imagine why someone in the 21st century has images of knights and maidens floating around in her subconcious though...what is she pagen? oh, and yeah, i noticed some dreams do literally disappear from here...that's a whole 'nother odd act of humans to analyze.

- Thursday, August 09, 2001 at 12:53:48 (CDT)

Actually this is a dream a co-worker was telling me about and I told her about this site...so...maybe you can analyze it for us. She has had a reccurent dream since she was young...she is now in her 40's. She dreams that she is in a field and a knight who she never sees a face of rides up to her in the woods and says that she is in his kingdom and because she is trespassing in his kingdom he has the right to take her (to take her in the sense that he sexually takes her right there.) She says she enjoys the dream...however, the kicker is on occasion she is the knight and she rides up on the horse and takes the maiden. She says she loves the thought of having the sexual power of the knight. So...what do you think about this craziness???
cari <ratrn@theratsnest.org>
ohio usa - Thursday, August 09, 2001 at 10:17:52 (CDT)

How in the hell I ended up at the empty bunghole and why on earth the flaming lips were playing with wesley willis I will never know - but I DO know this: I GOT THE HELL OUT OF THERE AS FAST AS I COULD. What I did after that was (and still is) very confusing: I attempted to reimport a 53' trailer (110" interior hight front to back) with Ibarra brand mexican chocalate BACK INTO MEXICO. Most remarkable was opening the trailer to find the yellow and red octagonal containers perfectly stacked from top to bottom - there were no boxes, crates, skids etc. - just the little yellow octagons. The sad thing is the Mexican customs officials weren't letting my truck into Mexico because of our not letting Mexican trucks into the states. It all seemed confusing but one thing was for certain - I was far away from the disturbing experience at the bottle.
aram <kknullandvoid@usa.gov>
CA EEUU - Wednesday, August 08, 2001 at 18:40:35 (CDT)

yes, dreams do dissappear. from this site anyway, hmmm...

- Wednesday, August 08, 2001 at 13:09:21 (CDT)

i dont think anything can disappear. or die exactly. if you closed your eyes for a long time and looked for it, i think you'd see it. or feel . or sense it.

- Tuesday, August 07, 2001 at 12:53:16 (CDT)

do dreams really disappear---and where do they go?

- Monday, August 06, 2001 at 21:13:44 (CDT)

He was sitting in the corner of her basement at a grand piano with his head down. I really wanted him and the piano moved upstairs into the daylight, into living again. So I sat on the bench next to him and asked if he would play for me. I knew that the piano contained rainstorms that would fill the room when it was played. I thought, "If it rains enough he will come upstairs and then we can move the piano." We sat under lightening and water, the music floated through it all and he was unmoved. He never opened his eyes once.
<juniperpearl1@hotmail.com>
- Monday, August 06, 2001 at 09:41:47 (CDT)

huge blueish lavender sheets, hanging all over in my room, like on a line. im writing you a letter on them. sound of piano's. i finish one and uncurl myself from it, crawl under and begin again. each one progressively has a clearer perspective and gets less poetic and sideways, more truthfull and bare.
why do you need a name?
- Saturday, August 04, 2001 at 16:01:36 (CDT)

tetsttetst
test <test>
tets tetst - Friday, August 03, 2001 at 16:32:19 (CDT)

nijinsky is in my stomach. it's too hot to dream.

america - Monday, July 30, 2001 at 22:33:14 (CDT)

i had a dream that i was at the Tower Records store where I used to work a long time ago, in San Diego. There was a sniper in the back who had us all waiting there. It's weird because it was mostly boring... waiting. But every time someone would move they would get shot. This would happen every time I started thinking that maybe I should try to move. So we were all still and bored and anxious and stressed out. Very strange
e. illades
il U S A ! U S A ! - Tuesday, July 24, 2001 at 16:02:23 (CDT)

this dream was full of curves. racing down a winding mountain road at night, i don't care about the edges, my speed is prompted by the decision to get on the boat. i am meeting you a day late. image of you when we're apart- you're putting pieces of a miniature broken wicker chair down the front of your pants. stealing for the thrill. i know that you'll be caught. dread. stupid idea. i want you- in spite of your actions- i want you. i haven't looked in your eyes in so long, everything has been sideways. you're always on the periphery. i reach the dock in the rain. the boat pulls up. heart pounds, finally on deck, under an orange and yellow awning ,old pews for seats, raining harder, i sit on the floor next to my russian friend and rest my head on her shoulder, strong feeling of love for her. we watch between the rows. i am waiting for you. here you come and i can't even look because you are being escorted and marched down the aisle for the stealing. your eyes are so wide, terrified and vulnerable, i don't want to be another pair of eyes making you feel that way, so i look away. you come to me and sit down on the wooden deck, our arms touch, ahh, finally it's you and your deep eyes. arab captain picks up the boats speed and begins telling a senseless story very loudly. he turns sharply again and again, carving figure eights into the water - infinity. we need to hold on to the railings and eachother, an adventure.
<juniperpearl1@hotmail.com>
mn - Tuesday, July 24, 2001 at 10:50:31 (CDT)

god is in my stomach. the fields change color. my sight is fuzzy sometimes, shaky sometimes. it terrifies me. i panic. god in my stomach says without saying "it's not what you see. sight is not real. this is where you are, in here." my chest is heavy and i know that my heart has been dead. it's weight has made it hard to breathe- but i breathe, and my stomach says "breathe into it, and it will open like flower petals. this is where you are" orange and blue iris's fall around me. i dont feel good or at peace though. just alert and on guard.
god is in my stomach
mn - Tuesday, July 24, 2001 at 10:38:53 (CDT)

I was in a canyon digging with some strangers when they dug up some dead bodys and started making out with them I did not do that i throw a bunch of treasure chests into a river and left for a while when i came back the dead bodys were alive then i looked at one and one of its legs was gone and the other had some desiese so the guy who was making out with it was sad and said we needed to help her but we didnt we ditched him and her and got in a truck and left but were being tailed by some cops then i woke up
Arthur <ld39012@AOL.COM>
- Wednesday, July 18, 2001 at 03:07:55 (CDT)

i am in an unknown house. it's older- sloping hardwood floors, crooked tiny rooms and all the window screens are torn. a furry little creature scurries out from behind a tattered couch. friend screams what is it? i see a little rat face on a racoon sized body with human eyes. i pick up a broken broom handle leaning against the wall. afraid, i slam the front door shut and lock it. i swing the broom handle wildly around my head and it turns into a rope. the creature screeches, "mole!mole!mole!" it's nose elongates with each sound. i tell friend that it is a mole . we open the door and follow it out into the night. we walk to 3 tiers of stone steps with ancient stone landings in between. various leaders from all eras have gathered for some sort of other worldly conference. i take my place next to a military general in full uniform and 2 rabbis that are wearing grey silk gowns. the sway back and forth in prayer.the sound of their voices makes my heart ache. i hear someone giving a speech-they are leading this gathering....but i don't see them. bruce cockburn sits perched on a rocky ruin, a tower perhaps. he is smoking behind tinted glasses and looking bemused. behind him a group of gay men in teal green jump suits are performing an athletic version of an ancient tiebetian dance ritual with an american flag. i tune back into the speaker, he is telling us that the general next to me still believes that he is hitler. i look into the mans face(it looks nothing like hitlers) and see that tears are falling out of the corners of his eyes. i ask him if he is the real hitler and he nods yes. i understand that he has reincarnated and is currently back on the planet. the rabbis surround him and continue praying.
juniper starpearl <juniperpearl1@hotmail.com>
- Tuesday, July 17, 2001 at 16:04:15 (CDT)

i'm hanging out in southern indiana with jim morrisom and were flat broke and trying desperately to score alcochol.we pul into a gas station and in the car next to us in the back seat is a very expensive bottle of brandy.naturally , jim steals it while our driver is inside getting smokes.only he and i know about it.our driver returns at the sametime that the brandy owner returns and i'm like "cool,let's split" but the brandy guy notices and looks at us and jim holds up the bottle like "ha ha fuck you,lets go on a wid chase!" and i'm sayong what the fuck jim,were busted!the brandy guy turns into three mafia guys who now are seriously into murdering us for such minor transgressions. devolves into keystone cops farcical chase madness. i should have known with jim morrison is what i'm thinking.
tyler <xello@yahoo.com>
in us - Monday, July 16, 2001 at 23:58:37 (CDT)

well i think i am a tormented child, i have halucinations of lil children throught my house all the time, i often hear children sings like ring around the rosei and things like that. but i had a dream last night that i was out in the middle of this field, it was like lightning or sumtin, and ne way i was walking through the dry wheat and then all of a sudden it was like i fast forwarded to this dead tree that i have like half a mile behind my house, and i was held up in the air by something, but for sum reason i never looked down, and for most of the dream i think, i vividly remember crying, and just tears coming out my eyes, and i was screaming at the top of my lungs for sumone to help me, and i just yelling and screaming for what seemed like forever, then i heard people laughing, and then i was dropped and the laughing stopped, and i just layed there in the dry dirt and and i was mute but tears still came out of my eyes, and i saw myslef like from sumone elses view, and i saw myself just layin there, not makin a sound face side ways on the dirt cryin, and i have never been able to forget this dream, ive had it over and over repeatedly, and it always ends the same way, i like just stare into my eyes, and they look so hurt and torn and everything, i have baby blue eyes, but my eyes are like a really innocent loking light blue, or grey, and there just covered with a glaze and thats the lasting image that i always see, i hope sumone can tell me a lil bit of sumtin because this dream is just like guhh, i dont know, email me... thanx
sean <seed33@yahoo.com>
oh usa - Sunday, July 15, 2001 at 10:42:48 (CDT)

I dreamt that I stabbed some guy in the stomach with a letter opener.
gillian
- Friday, July 13, 2001 at 12:27:34 (CDT)

§ Wooden teeth and Concha y Toro § I was franrtically swiping up and across a kitchen tiled countertop with a thick yellow sponge attempting to catch any excess fluid from leaking over the edge. My grandfather’s teeth were east of the double-sink basins, soaking in a glass of red waters that seeped from a spiderweb crack dented down from it’s lip. The runny red wine trickled down and transformed the once white grout into crimson-dyed borders. I took the teeth out of the glass and caught the residual drops on my shirt. Looking down on the newly formed spots, I saw I was wearing pairs of long platinum ropes - necklaces studded with small bright green stones set inside shiny gem settings. I fingered a strand and noticed I had them draped on in suspender-like style. My brother then walked in the room and took the teeth out of my hand and held them up in close range for a personal inspection. They had since dried out dark into a variegated reddish-brown pattern that appeared like tree rings stained around each spiky root. He intently stared for a little while longer and finally cracked out ‘I told em’ he’d be spittin’ chiclets’.
eMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
Minnesota - Wednesday, July 11, 2001 at 19:37:24 (CDT)

i was very young, maybe seven or eight. i had read an book about inscects before it was time for bed. all i could see when i tried to sleep were big, gigantic ants. thank you
daniel
- Sunday, July 08, 2001 at 06:48:06 (CDT)

layers and layers. on the physical plane in my bedroom a ravel string quartet was on repeat in the cd player.the music in my room corresponded with physical and emotional sensations in my dream.a cello line in the bedroom was a sticky syrup drpiping on my foot in dreamland.a melody made newspapers over my face.a refrain was coffee smell.over and over and over and it was smiling.it was really having me on in a joyous way.hard to explain that one.language is inadequete but i was really in that one.connected with somthing.remembering something.
tyler <xello@yahoo.com>
us - Saturday, July 07, 2001 at 01:05:15 (CDT)

i dreamed that i saw you playing at my favourite club, the b72. i hope it means something. .. ..
sus.i
- Thursday, July 05, 2001 at 06:41:27 (CDT)

i dream a man hands me strange money from tennessee. it looks foreign with animal portraiture and interwoven lines of color - a bribe so i will not claw his lungs.
<aphasia@waste.org>
- Saturday, June 30, 2001 at 16:22:19 (CDT)

there was a raging fire in the livingroom floor of one of my childhood homes. the heat was searing but that didnt stop huge white worms from slithering out and trying to get me. they had little nettle like barbs , just enough to barely stick to my socks and skin but they were easy to kick away.my family kept nearly walking into the fiery pit like it wasnt there.they were so nonchalaunt about it.as if there wasnt a hell mouth spewing dangerous worms.i was screaming angrily,amazed at how oblivious my family was to the peril but they kept on talking and goofing off and ignoring everything.ive been having a crappy day since i awoke.
tyler <ttribby@hungryminds.com>
in usa! - Thursday, June 28, 2001 at 16:30:37 (CDT)

i was in an airport and paul mcCartney walked by. i really wanted to get his autograph, but i didnt have anything for him to write on or with. i blew it off and said "eh, maybe next time. ill see ya'round" and laughed. i just couldnt let it go tho so i walked back up to him and asked him if he had any way of giving me an autograph. he all of a sudden became ringo and pulled his new album from his inside jacket pocket, saying something like "well i have this, its my new album, i dont know if youll like it". and i replied, "well, it cant be any worse that the other ones". octapus' garden came to mind, he smiled, then, i awoke.
<cat@home>
us - Wednesday, June 27, 2001 at 09:20:56 (CDT)

i had a dream last night that we were going on tour with califone again. only this time, we get to play to 5,000 people every night. and we get to fly to every show. and nobody dies. and there are no technical problems. and the beer never runs out. and we never have to sleep in the van. and we get to spend a week in san francisco. and we all get chris mills tattoos. oh yeah, and we don't leave anything behind in dallas. do dreams come true? fuck.... i'm still getting a "mills" tattoo though.
joe <canyonmusic@hotmail.com>
- Tuesday, June 26, 2001 at 12:53:15 (CDT)

1. Had two skinny fish stuck in the veins of one my fingers. I could see them stuck in there when I held my hand up in the light. 2. Saw that the other side of the moon is totally built up with ominous advanced architecture. 3. Experienced firsthand (in state-of-the-art-digital-vision and THX sound) an honest to goodness shark attack. 4. Was a cop in the back seat of the car with a very dangerous criminal. The criminal pulled a huge gun out and pointed it at my partner who was driving. I wrestled the gun out of his hands somehow and shot him in the throat five times. There was blood but he wasn't dying. All he said was that he felt light-headed. I said "You're gonna be free" to make him feel better about dying. He still wasn't dying though so I shot him in the head. No blood. He looked back at me menacingly. I realized the gun was full of blanks and that now I was in some serious trouble. Thats when the alarm woke me up.
tony <tonymog@hotmail.com>
mn - Tuesday, June 26, 2001 at 08:41:03 (CDT)

I was entering a room in a dark building, thre however were dim overhead lights. I came to a dark red metal door. Behind the door was loud yelling and cheering. I opened the door and found my self in the middle of a room entertaining a group of people with SNL's Bobbi and Marty Culp. I love their skits! Then everything turned all white, and I woke up. Is this a vision of me in the near future I wonder?
Not Telling <Lynnekb2000@aol.com>
MI America - Monday, June 25, 2001 at 16:57:30 (CDT)

i was having sex with some sort of slick,furry mammal.it wasnt my girlfriend.kind of like a giant marmaoset.it felt super.and i was a fantastic lover.it kept changing it's face.oh,and there was a lot of lightning.
tyler <xello@yahoo.com>
in usa - Monday, June 25, 2001 at 16:45:50 (CDT)

Our car had broken down, so we had it hauled to the best mechanics in Mulliken, Michigan. My dad came along and strongly urged me to play the video game and Mountain Dew while he caught up with one of the mechanics who he went to school with so many years ago. They were having a fine old time. Just as our car got fixed and we were about to leave, my dad says, "Hey Jimmie," to his old school friend. My dad then pulls a penny out of his pocket and sets it on the bridge of his nose. His old friend knew exactly what this was -- an invitation to a strange game. He began violently and vehemently rubbing my dad's nose with his own -- a frantic bout of bizarre Eskimo kissing -- trying to knock the penny off my dad's nose while my dad tried to keep the coin balanced and in place. I woke up before I knew how it ended, if it ever did.
Noone Special
OH - Monday, June 25, 2001 at 14:48:45 (CDT)

Talkshow hosts and asexual reproduction. A Matthew Dream. I find myself browsing in a hospital. I have no doubts this room has been thoroughly sterilized. There is a smell. The doctors, patients and nurses are speaking with the exagerated facial expressions and lack of audio found in old silent movies. I become suddenly aware of faint, yet increasingly horrible ^animal in heat^ sounds from a room at the end of a green hallway. With each footstep, the volume and intensity increase. I open the cracked door to reveal a manic David Letterman engaging in self love with asian tourists pointing, smiling, photographing. With his free hand, David pretends to sip from an empty coffee cup and gives that 'is the joke on me?' kind of smile. I am entranced by his sincerity. The dream takes a turn for the bizzare when he ejaculates a single spermy tadpole the size of a small dog. On closer inspection, the spermy sprouts little amphibian legs and the smiling head of its creator. This sperm is no longer an only child. David begins to seize in a way I can only describe as an epileptic dabbling with amphetamines and tai chi. Spermy after spermy ooze out of him, sprout limbs and begin their march through the hospital. My dream fades out with the sounds of 'everythings coming up roses' on a horrible rpm.
Matthew <donthave@email.address>
- Tuesday, June 19, 2001 at 17:59:20 (CDT)

I recently decided to switch schools for my A levels (17-8 year old exams). I dreamt the head of sixth form grabbed me by my hair and beat my head against the edge of a desk in my science roomu ntil I blacked out. I woke up with a really sore head as well.
Gary <pseudo_elephant@euroseek.com>
England - Tuesday, June 19, 2001 at 15:49:39 (CDT)

I go to sleep during a thunderstorm and somebody stands at my window & trumpets a dream in like a flock of arrows. By daybreak all of civilization is submerged beneath thirty or forty feet of water and everyone is dead. Also, I'm a badger. I find a metal rowboat outside my upstairs window, hitched with a piece of barge rope eaten by sea worms. I climb into the hull the moment the rope breaks, and the boat is carried away. I start floating through the world, alone. There are wet flags and steeples and the uppermost treetops all close at hand. I put my paw in the water and feel the world at a different altitude: I touch powerlines. The water is cool and clean like something that dripped from the mouth of a cave. I let it soak my paws. I bring back a memory: the feeling of the breath of living creature on my skin. The boat is swimming downtown. I float through the streets of an underwater city where cars are overturned and human corpses drift to and fro, but I float very fast and the debris of society just sort of bounces off the side of my sturdy silver boat. The water is swift. It moves in me, all around me. Stormclouds roll over; they're even closer now. I feel brisk and adventuresome. The wind's blowing brings the whole landscape to a tremble. I bounce excitedly and the boat swims even faster. In the water ahead, I see something yellow hovering below the surface. My heart leaps, thinking the city has been overtaken by schools of koi - thousands of them swimming through the windows of flooded buildings. My boat comes near to the shimmering shape, but it is gone in the blink of an eye and the water turns dark. A second later, a red shape appears in the same spot. Traffic lights! I let my rowboat float through, far above the underwater intersection. We bump into the swollen body of a drowned police officer. "Oops!" I giggle, "always yield to pedestrians!" The body careens out of the way, its eyes rolled back in the head like it'd just been baptized. I fall into a fit of laughter on the floor of my boat. By evening I have floated all the way across town. I decide to go see if my friend is still alive so I can show him I'm a badger. I drift down his street and right through his front door. His piano was floating around. I wondered if it was full of eels. "Hello!" I said. "I'm ready for my breakfast now!" The house was quiet. I could only hear the sound of water lapping against the walls. Either no one was there or no one was there who wanted to cook me blackberry pancakes. I lie in the bottom of the boat staring up at the ceiling as I float from room to room. There is a river of water winding down the staircase into the basement. I feel the current take hold of my boat; I try to grab onto something in the kitchen that will keep us from being pulled under, but it's too late and we plunge forward. The basement door flies open like something in a spookhouse. It's completely dark and I can no longer navigate. (i feel him swimming under me at night)
sarah <aphasia@waste.org>
- Monday, June 18, 2001 at 01:54:59 (CDT)

i dreamt that a homeless guy stole one of my favorite sweatshirts. it was a dc shoe sweatshirt that has LOTS of sentimental value. i was pissed but then i let him have it cuz he was homeless and then he gave it back. or did i steal it back?
CaliStar <kirkybaby2@hotmail.com>
CA USA - Friday, June 15, 2001 at 17:59:14 (CDT)

Last week my boss told me that its time to cut my hair (she pretends to be my mother)- naturally i ignored her and whatever found its way to my inbox, two days later i drempt that she snagged a handful and cut it off while i had my back turned. She waived it in front of me as if to taunt, i punched her in the stomach and woke up with a smile.
Jon
militiagan - Monday, June 11, 2001 at 10:20:21 (CDT)

I have been dreaming about a Doctor that I work with(I am one of his nurses on the unit and he never even strikes up conversation with me other than those re: his pts. And I don't believe that I am attracted to him) and in the dream he walks in this big glorious bathroom which I am naked, getting into the spa tub and before he sees me...I cover myself. Then I am in a footbal stadium trying to hide from him amungst all the fans in the stands. What the heck does this dream mean? I found myself for the next couple weeks embarrassed when i saw him at work as if he really had seen me naked. Please give me some feed back!
Cari <ratrn@theratsnest.org>
- Friday, June 08, 2001 at 10:51:29 (CDT)

I was looking for him in the lines – check out lines. I found him waiting in a populated row where a woman behind the register was lying between two wicker chairs that hung her backside bowed in the middle. I watched her scan black bar codes on styrofoam packages that appeared to contain pork ribs or lamb - I was hungry for them both. There was a girl standing inches beside him – she gave off an air of sensual stickiness that edged around the profile of her fitted floor-length dress with a long open slit fashioned up the left leg. I immediately took a healthy dislike to her and felt my insecure jealous heart go hot with ugly violent drains that began to deplete and discredit me - she was standing so close to him, and I had to observe the progression of their possible interface. Then someone’s peripheral narrative, perhaps my own, explained to the others that she wore these token piece outfits because they were easier to put on. My hand stretched down my own leg in order to straighten up the seam in the tall suede boots I was wearing, only then did I realize that the thigh-high slit belonged to me.
eMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
Minnesota - Tuesday, June 05, 2001 at 23:51:47 (CDT)

I dreamt that my mom, dad, sisters, brother, cousin, and my brother's two twin-brother friends decided to go to this old house that someone had turned into a museum. Earlier, I knew my cousin had been possessing marijuana which he did not smoke himself -- at least, not regularly -- but he was delivering it for one friend to another. Anyway, as soon as we walk in, we are introduced to this gorgeous hardwood floor in the living room. My cousin says, "Wow, what a great floor! May we step on it?" The docent says, "Yes, you may step on the floor -- you have to if you want to see the rest of the house, but I must warn you: There is ABSOLUTELY NO POT ALLOWED." My cousin's face sank a little, and said, "Really? No pot? No pot at all?" The man sternly shook his head. So he left, and the twins left, and my brother left, who has probably never smoked anything in his life. In about an hour or so they all came back stoned as hell (except for my brother, who only inhaled the second hand smoke), and my cousin said, "We don't have any pot on us anymore, but we're stoned as hell. Is that OK?" The docent smiled, and said, "Sure, no problem!"
Noone Special <noonespecial@dockboggswasgoodatthebanjo.com>
OH USA! USA! USA! - Tuesday, June 05, 2001 at 07:30:06 (CDT)

The tellyfone rings in our house and my father picks it up & says in his very important tellyfone voice 'Simpkins speaking'. Then his face goes white & his voice goes all funny & he says 'WHAT! WHO?' and then he says 'yes sir I understand sir but surely it is me you is wishing to speak to sir not my little son.' My father's face is going from white to dark purple & he is gulping like he has a lobster stuck in his throat and then at last he is saying 'yes sir very well sir i will get him sir' and then he turns to me and he says in a rather respectful voice 'is you knowing the president of the United States?' and I says 'no but I expect he is hearing about me.' Then I is having a long talk on the fone & saying things like 'let me take care of it, Mr president. you'll bungle it all up if you do it your way.' And my father's eyes is goggling right out of his head & that is when I is hearing my father's real voice saying get up you lazy slob or you will be late for school.
Sophie
- Tuesday, June 05, 2001 at 00:20:46 (CDT)

Thank you to Califone for playing such a beautiful show in Minneapolis the other night. Highlights were Electric Fence and the extended jam that came before the song about missionaries (don't know the name) -it felt to me something like a weighty souls are sleeping heavily jam that lumbered slowly rolling over again and again untill finally, an awesome aha! awakening .... Very good! Please come back soon.
Juniper Pearl
- Friday, June 01, 2001 at 11:10:08 (CDT)

this dream i had last night after seeing califone play in minneapolis (it was very beautiful) - i was in a neighborhood where a child friend in atlanta used to live. her house was abandoned and the streets were flooded so that it made the appearance of a large lake seen from the top of a hill. when i went into the house, i understood that i myself had been the last to live there. there was a swimming pool out back where bulldogs had drowned. a swarm of bees had eventually taken up residence. all the houses in the neighborhood were an identical shade of gray like armadillo-colored hair ribbons. they were all very big without any signs of life. my parents were in the house, and they made me kill a cockatiel and a rat who were living there. the cockatiel was decapitated. she was in a birdcage with blood spattered everywhere. at moments, if i stared long enough, he head would reappear in its proper place. i don't remember how i killed the rat. there was also a cow they made me kill, but he was very small and limp, like a puppet of a cow or just a washcloth that looked like a cow. but he had suffering eyes. there were numbers sewn into the nape of his neck; i remember sawing at the numbers with a knife. he died on top of a piano. after that, i hated my parents more than anything. i escaped from the house and they were after me. the remaining dream was a quest for cake and subsequent evasion of my parents. fortunately, i could fly. there was a convergence with the waking life: on the way home from the show i had ridden my bike over a bridge where powerlines drooped just a handswidth away from me, and i wanted to grab onto them like a squirrel. in the dream i flew through powerlines without effect. they felt like pieces of barge rope heavy with salt and ocean water. the only cake i found was a piece of german chocolate cake, which i rejected, i later told someone, "because of the nazis." the numbers in the neck of the cow were not unlike those tattoos dispensed to victims of concentration camps. i also flew through grocery stores and knocked down large displays of hair dye.
sarah <aphasia@waste.org>
- Thursday, May 31, 2001 at 11:13:37 (CDT)

the captain was saused...so i spoke with tenille. she's a fucking bore so i hung up and warmed my hands on the the cathode ray distributor... boy...i thought tenille was dull. i then sat in front of the "just right" porridge first (luckluck) and was out before the bears could say boo... cockadoodledoo!!!
van theman <bikes_will_take_us@hotmail.com>
Citizen - Wednesday, May 30, 2001 at 22:07:59 (CDT)

come on jaime, its obvious you want your family dead so you can live happily ever after with furry animals, but you want to make sure that its ok with your older sister first. i hear jon has the same problem.

- Tuesday, May 22, 2001 at 15:17:13 (CDT)

Recurring dream when I was a child: I came rolling home inside an inner-tube to find my mom, dad, and younger bro and sis either stabbed or hanging from the ceiling. My older sister and brother (who are 14 and 10 years older than i respectively) were not in the picture (yet). So, the Eewoks (sp?) from Star Wars fame took me in. My dream then turns into a cartoon and I am picking flowers with the Eewoks. At the end of my dream, my older sister, opens a window into my dream, looks at me as if checking on me, then closes the window never to be seen again. SOMEONE PLEASE ANALYZE THIS!
Jamie
NY USA - Tuesday, May 22, 2001 at 14:14:47 (CDT)

Scott Ferrall's in his studio with a bunch of naked people telling me the story of how he raided Adolf Hitler's secret bunker and told him, "Either you fight me or we smoke that big stash of weed over there!" nuff said
Dan <half_orc_harry@hotmail.com>
USA - Tuesday, May 22, 2001 at 12:21:27 (CDT)

I dreamt that Tim Rutili, after playing at the High Five, decided to get a job as a bartender there. He was a very good bartender and waited promptly at all the tables where people were sitting. I woke up when I became confused that Califone was supposed to play in Los Angeles today, and yet here was Tim still in Columbus bartending happily.
Noone Special <noonespecial@dockboggswasgoodatthebanjo.com>
OH United States of America - Tuesday, May 22, 2001 at 08:13:32 (CDT)

we had plans to go to an important event tonight and i called you to check on our meeting place and time. you brother answered the phone and told me you went to colorado to retrieve something. i was incredulous, confused, and angry. i asked him what time you had left and attempted to do the drive time math in my head, trying to figure out how you would make it back here in time. he reassured me you had it all worked out and wouldn’t be late. i held the image of you driving across the flat lands at dusk heading towards the foothills. i hung up and found myself worried and alone, walking in a darkened parking garage. i was moving up a winding spiral ramp which lead me to an empty parking level occupied only by dimly lit pillars. i walked over to a lone card table with a single chair set across the room, I sat down upset while looking at the night time cityscape. you then came strongly striding out of the shadows with purpose. you weren't late. you knew all along that you wouldn't be, you wouldn't let me down. you were beaming sparkling shimmers of purple, ranging from the deepest shades, almost black, to the lightest lavender, almost silver. your hand was hiding something behind your back that you had brought back for me from denver. i think it was some kind of purple, blue, and black beaded object. i’m still not entirely sure if you ever gave it to me. i asked how you got back in time, you explained that you didn't drive up into the mountains, and that had saved you 4 hours. your eyes were so bright, kind and loving. let’s go, you said, and since i wasn't wearing any make up, i rummaged through my purse to see what i had. i found i had all i needed and was pleased at being so prepared, considering i thought that we weren't even going.

- Sunday, May 20, 2001 at 00:27:13 (CDT)

Randall Jarrell came to me and made me feel like an idiot. He said: "Have you written something every day?" and I said, "No. Of course not." He sort of went, "Oh,"- real disappointed-like, but in a Santa kind of way. Then I was asked to play drums for Metallica, who was performing (assuming I agreed) at the Irish bar down the street from my house.
M. Brodeur <editor@bothmagazine.com>
MA US - Thursday, May 17, 2001 at 15:52:25 (CDT)

i'm back at the house i grew up in, living with my mother and younger brother - only we're the ages we are now. anyway, i look out the window at my car and see that the trunk is open and the licence plates are missing. i'm overwhelmed with this feeling that i've been victimized. i complain to my mom who tells me my brother 'borrowed' the car, emptied the the trunk, and can't remember where the licence plates are. the sky is gray and cloudy and then i'm outside reading the script to a play i'm in. the problem is, the whole thing starts in an hour and i've only just realized i'm in it. not only that, but i have a major role which includes a soliloquy to introduce the whole thing. frantically, i try to memorize my 4 opening lines but keep getting interrupted by these street-gang type guys. when i look back down at the script, it's doubled in size and complexity. this pattern of interruption/script-enlargement continues over and over again until it's showtime and i'm standing on stage, in front of a large crowd, without a clue as to what the play is even about.
jonesey <slindsay@risd.edu>
RI USA - Tuesday, May 15, 2001 at 10:04:53 (CDT)

I am driving a huge van around a campus that is supposed to be the university where in reality i attend grad school. for some reason it is the middle of the night and i am trying to smuggle some high school acquaintences out of the art building before the hall monitor sees us. one of them, however, is this tiny little petite girl from my program whom i sort of hate and sort of like. she has long hair she wears in a braid and seems just so contented about everything all the time. its about to get light out and all i can think about is the fact that my dad will know i've stolen his van if i don't get the acquaintences home and then my own ass back home before daylight. also, i'm trying to decide whether i should ditch these guys and go knock on the window of someone i know i'm in love with, or ditch them to meet someone i'm sleeping with at a sleezy bar. in the end i decide to hell with lovers, drive all of us (in the huge van) back to my parents house and tell them to take a cab home from there because i'm so tired that i know i couldn't drive them home without killing us all in some tragic sleep-deprived incident with a big tree or something. as i drift off to sleep, i am painfully aware that someone is waiting for me to knock on his window, and i never do.
stephanie <sniffy11@hotmail.com>
USA - Tuesday, May 08, 2001 at 10:43:28 (CDT)

Wading in a copper colored kiddie pool alongside fleets of miniature ships with small standing seamen flanking their tiny white decks. My friend Kate, she’s giggling while flicking their bodies over bows and holding them under the waves with a thumb. It felt humid and warm with low voltage lights beaming up to lit doorways on opposites sides of the tank. I tugged on a sliding steel door that pulled out accordion style, as ‘Rolo’ or ‘Solo’ came overhead on some sort of PA machine. The words triggered my start of a running mental list remembering people from highschool – like the O’Sullivans and other such classmates. I felt that vague character connection with them, pointing along liners of fringe-like peers. The options on the machine could tell you what they had on most recently, and we knew any message we left would relay what we wanted. Kate voiced to the device that she badly wanted ‘gris’ (visualized spelling when spoken), then giggled even louder - turned over - and told me wide-eyed, that meant breasts.
eMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN - Friday, May 04, 2001 at 18:17:41 (CDT)

I drempt I was caught dreaming about simpler times by the company that manufacturers dream catchers. Despite never having been the target of such useless trinkets, my punishment was to carry on with my life, although each night the tye-died dream demon would permeate my mental with ideas bigger than my conscious cared to admit. the ensuing battle became a cyclical one, and each night I dared not move my eyes in rapid motion so as not conjure up images of Rosharch tests in 3-D. I became numb to routine by day and an insomniac by night. Yet i distinctly remember waking up every morning to the sound of large vehicles passing by, and my perpetual thought that I can't wait to wake up.
Jon
- Friday, May 04, 2001 at 09:05:16 (CDT)

Walking in the country again. I am crossing an open meadow with my dog. We are moving slowly towards a tiny northern farmhouse. I feel disconnected and floaty. The farmhouse is actually a bakery and an old friend from school is sitting at the counter. I haven't seen him in years and I ask him what he is doing here. He tells me that he is being Catholic and ushers me over to a small round table with 17 burning candles on it. In amongst the candles are the most beautiful sugar cookies. They resemble various birds. Their icing is like Tibetan sand mandalas and they look too lovely to eat. I see that the melting candle wax has flowed around the cookies and begun to solidify. I want to rescue them but the bluebird that I pick up breaks in half. He hands me a small silver bowl that holds a paint brush stuck into lavender frosting and tells me to glue it back together.
Juniper <juniperpearl1@hotmail.com>
- Tuesday, May 01, 2001 at 13:56:08 (CDT)

This morning I dreamt I went to visit GG Allin in jail. We talked, we joked, we shook hands and that was about it.
Stewart Brodian <stewart@brodian.com>
PA U.S.A. - Monday, April 30, 2001 at 12:11:21 (CDT)

my friend had a dream where he and his friends were back in highschool and they were waking up after a stoner-sleep-over on a saturday morning and his father was real suspicious of what might have happened the night before... so his father put on a scuba suit and woke everybody up earlier than normal and inspected their feet w/ binoculars and they either "passed" or they "failed" to go on to breakfast...
bill
- Saturday, April 28, 2001 at 04:11:51 (CDT)

My mother rowed the two of us in a swamp to the secret burial place of my father.
Peter B <icarus@mediaone.net>
MA - Wednesday, April 25, 2001 at 12:51:34 (CDT)

I was the leader of a tribe that had chosen to live underground. I had to convince them to do so -- no one seemed to believe me that there was a distaster coming. Once we were all settled in, subterra, I realized that we still needed some important supplies. So I unsealed the top tunnel, and came out through the floor of a mechanic's garage through the well beneath a hydraulic lift. The lift had a car on it. The mechanics looked at me quite strangely, but I headed out to the grocery store, trying to act all nonchalant.
feckled <mavin1@gte.net>
- Wednesday, April 25, 2001 at 10:00:20 (CDT)

Egypt, 1949...Running up pyramids. For some unremembered reason I'm trying to escape a man wearing overly inflated white Nike air-puff hightops. They look like rabbit costume feet and give him endless speed and power. We stop unavoidably together at the top and he says, "Just wanted to remind you, Don't forget your holocaust memories."
FEZ
- Wednesday, April 25, 2001 at 09:43:03 (CDT)

I am home now, and dreamt last night that you were sitting in the kitchen and had hacked off all of your hair into a really rough longer "bob." You were swinging your new lighter head around and wispy untouched longer pieces of hair flew lightly around your face and shoulders. Your hair cut was a clear symbol of a huge liberation. You told me that you had received the Denver discs but had yet to receive the other one. You were also working now, but the sleeveless white t and shorts told me that the new job was far removed from the business world. We went outside and it was night. Your car was gone, you said that it was too much stress. Instead you were driving the one your brother had borrowed from your dad last year. It was filled with stuffed Ewoks.
macaroon
- Tuesday, April 24, 2001 at 22:13:20 (CDT)

Inside a building with a large staircase there was a crow that had taken residence in there. I saw him and made a "caw" sound and he came and flew into my hands. I stroked him and held him and his black eyes revolved and stared at me. It was the most beautiful crow I have ever seen. I let him go and he walked up the staircase into the darkness.
Peter B <icarus@mediaone.net>
MA - Monday, April 23, 2001 at 20:47:20 (CDT)

Ok, starting over after my stupid computer locked up and erased all I typed... I'm heading downstairs in my old school during a fire drill. I pass my sister, and encounter this girl singing "6 Underground" by the Sneaker Pimps. I walk down this hallway and encounter my father who is dressed in military garb and wearing the O-3 collar device, which is an Air Force captain fyi. Anyways, we shake hands, hug, and talk about our (former?) military careers as we head to the mall for the movies. The movie we watch is violent; it has people punching other people in the face left and right and I see Fez (from That 70's Show) in it too. When my dad and I leave the theater he gets arrested by police who think he matches the description of some fugitive and he starts to complain that now his son can't go home... What was funny about it was how my dad was trying to use "military bearing" to convince the police he wasn't guilty (saluting, calling them "shipmate", etc.) There was also a part with my mother whining at me about something, me telling her to shutup, and then her threatening to move the family to Kansas. There was also another part with me messing around with Jennifer Lopez's (non-private) body parts, but that was part of another, less-descript dream later on that night. Ha ha.
Dan <half_orc_harry@hotmail.com>
USA - Thursday, April 19, 2001 at 13:38:01 (CDT)

You and I are driving down the highway and everything's cool. All of the sudden I start driving way too fast and you start getting a little freaked out telling me to slow down. I start laughing and sort of have this smug "whatever" kind of attitude, like I know what the hell I'm doing. Actually, as you're yelling for me to slow down I start laughing. Then suddenly there is an accident up ahead of us. I need to hit the brakes, but realize I can't because for some damn reason my ankles are tied together and there is this bag around them. But we stop anyway before the crash and have to duck as debris from the crash ahead comes flying back at us. The next thing I know, you're gone and I'm stuck in my car with my feet tied together and I can't get out. Then, some big black man comes running at the car and I'm terrified. I just know he is going to kill me. Then I woke up, heart pounding, very scared I remember. I don't know what all of this means and rarely do I have dreams that I can recall this vividly. The only thing that I think I've got figured out is the big black man was probably the guy who got escorted out of the building on Tuesday because he was yelling and screaming at a woman down the hall and his behavior was scaring everyone around.
tracy
- Thursday, April 19, 2001 at 10:19:27 (CDT)

I had a dream that the fire show kicked ass. When I awoke I found out that the dream really happened and that they did in fact kick ass.
Eric <indie_core@hotmail.com>
Oh love - Friday, April 13, 2001 at 10:10:03 (CDT)

I'M RUNNING FROM MYSELF IN MY HOMETOWN, BUT MY HOMETOWN IS NAKED OF PEOPLE ALL I CAN SEE IS MY IMAGE OFF MYSELF RUNNING THROUGH MY TOWN AND I AM SOMETHING OR SOMEONE CHASING MYSELF.
daniel "kerouac" neiswanger <juneau10@hotmail.com>
FL USA - Friday, April 13, 2001 at 02:14:34 (CDT)

There were open yellow boxes of assorted sweet chocolates stacked on my desk with several partially eaten chunks scattered on the upturned covers. A few of the treats had melted down into a broad running liquid track - I smeared my fingers in the puddle and applied it like foundation on my face, wanting to fill in cracks or visible lines. I picked up an antique hand held mirror and admired how the fecal-colored face paint made my teeth appear so white.
emeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
mn - Sunday, April 08, 2001 at 01:28:52 (CDT)

I met her on Friday and she made a very unexpected appearance in a dream the next night, she lent me her car, I believe it was a new red Sunfire. But I wasn't driving very well...someone had just stolen my sister's vehicle and i was on a mission to track down the theif. I got in my ride, chased down the villain (no idea how i found him) only to pursue an active game of road rage, my car was totalled, but somehow i managed to be eject while leaving it in drive, the car was completely autonimous and persisting in these dangerous antics, i hopped in the borrowed vehicle to chase down my ride, figuring i could use my jedi skills to kill the motor. it turned out that we never really left the neighborhood, the car was not really stolen, but all three cars were vacant and damaged, yet they still worked. personally, my driving record is pretty good, a few parking tix, but then again, newly found acquaintances don't really hand off the car keys like they were high-fives. my poetry makes more sense.

- Monday, April 02, 2001 at 14:38:48 (CDT)

I looked out the window, and the wind was blowing very very fast. It wasn't in gusts either, it was all just one constant blast of wind. I also found a picture of myself smoking and blowing smoke into the camera.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN US - Tuesday, March 27, 2001 at 21:52:18 (CST)

i'm alone on a desolate island, the first in a chain of three. not really sure why i'm here, but it seems i insisted they leave me. self imposed isolation. i seem to sometimes like it better waiting because the memories taste sweeter. it has to be this way. purest blue ocean and sky, sitting in the sand meticulously mending a white skirt that was my mother's before it became mine. i use long silver stick pins in place of a needle and thread. finished, i put it on with the silvery new pattern in front and wonder if it still suits me after all these years. i can remember wearing it with all of them. beside me is a box, the interior is covered with turquoise and it holds one pair of mother of pearl earings and a large diamond ring. i put the ring on? take it off? the sunlight makes everything iridescent. people always return so slowly. it's long enough to have been waiting, waiting, waiting. impatient and frustrated with seperation now. almost upset when they arrive. only two return,the musicians. one waits in the water standing at the shoreline and the other who's music and body i loved approaches shirtless.i can't see his face,never really liked it all that much anyways. i can feel him though. he beams smiling light so clear for me and the connection is instant. he hands me a photo album to show me where they go and what experiences they have been living. they go to the third island,that's where all the people are. the others don't want to leave the crowd of TOGETHERNESS,but these two are willing to slow down and visit me. i know that i don't like the way the groups semi-connected busyness feels, i do like being alone, but am impatient with it at the same time.i look at the photos and they come to life, a glimpse of what the world is up to, they are magic. i can observe them while sitting on the beach or i can step into them and live out the scene as though i'm there. i also have the ability do both simultaneously if i choose. my friend walks away down the beach with a good bye song sung for me. i can hear it long after he is no longer in sight. alone again untill i remember the one i loved the best waiting in the water. i don't want to look for him there, it seems less vulnerable to look for his image in the photo album. i find a picture of him floating on a black inner tube with his legs dangling down into the ocean, his dissapproving mother is somewhere near by. i enter the picture crouched over him and while he traces my features with his fingertips i tell him that the sea and cake song 'the leaf' feels like him to me. our lips meet and he smiles and presses his forehead into mine. the moment is stronger than most waking ones. i thank you for that. we rise up into the air, he wants to show me the second island. overhead view of a small sandy island with towering sea serpent bones arranged in double-helixes. i wake up happy.
star pearl
- Tuesday, March 27, 2001 at 11:06:54 (CST)

drempt that we played another college-town show, except this time we played in the middle of the street, young hooligans and thug-types talkin' smack from 30meters away. A thunderstorm forces our retreat to a nearby basement, we gather equipment like little kids grab candy at halloween. my instrument is left behind, we find it after the noise passes, smashed to pieces across the street where we performed. intensely angered and lusting vengence against hooligan-types, i look around for a scapegoat, no dice, I'm left empty-handed and broke as could be (fact). I woke up and vowed not to do college-towns in stormy April.
Jon
click - Tuesday, March 27, 2001 at 10:36:53 (CST)

Woke up to booming voice in my head, realizing and hearing,"Reality is filtered through your knowledge." The dream involved falling so far it became floating and scattered white pills that only jews could have. A gift.

- Friday, March 23, 2001 at 11:50:15 (CST)

they’re shooting me into space to name new planets. i spend most of the dream waiting around impatiently for my parents to drive me to the launchsite. we’re in atlanta. it’s high autumn. we start driving down our old street in one of those huge vans like the one for chicken rescue, except it’s even bigger, and even messier, and much brighter now, because it’s daytime. i sit in the back and listen to my parents’ conversation as if hearing it take place in another room. it turns out my dad is not my biological father and that my real last name is "berryman." i stare out the window as the van seems to float down the street. the old trees are huge and beautiful, with white bark and richly-colored fall leaves. i have some thought that i’ve only missed seeing this because i take a different route to get onto 94 (mixed up with fact that we could take two different streets to leave the neighborhood, and i much preferred one to the other). standing around waiting to go into space. a horse is coming with me. he’s tacked up in a dressage saddle and has the rotting sleeves torn from a “pirate jacket” wrapped around his legs. he’s very impatient and i keep having to tighten the girth. once we’re finally able to get into our spaceship, i realize i’ve forgotten my notebook, in which i wrote the names for the new planets (they’d discovered three). so i can’t go. i wake up inside the dream; i find my notebook and open it to find i’d named all the planets "raspberry." further on in the dream i actually meet john berryman, or his ghost. he is looking for his lost name.
sarah <aphasia@waste.org>
- Wednesday, March 21, 2001 at 23:01:15 (CST)

I was standing in a brightly lit birthing center. There was a woman lying on an operating table, apparently waiting to have her baby. She looked very nervous. All of a sudden, she started pushing. Out pops a slimy, blue-faced, long-haired white goat. Everyone just stood around looking at the goat, not knowing what to make of it. I broke the awkward silence with, "Congratulations! He's beautiful!"
gillian
- Friday, March 16, 2001 at 14:31:22 (CST)

Dream.. There was a friend of the family at our house. He wanted to talk to me about my history of relationships with females. At first I declined, but later I was looking around the house for him to take him up on the offer. I went to the front yard after checking the entire house, and there he was in the street talking to my mom, but she was also by the door (?) I asked why ther were two of her, and the one by the door said, "Beats me, I'm on painkillers" The psychiatrist moved over to the driveway then, where he was building a huge replica of a molecular structure diagram. He had a Hispanic assistant helping him out with it. After I woke up, I knew the association of the molecule was with either recreational or psychiatric drugs, but have not been able to ascertain which.
Alberto Balsalm <rbarchas@sprynet.com>
TX USA - Tuesday, March 13, 2001 at 02:30:29 (CST)

The anus of (insert it here) stars as himself in this play on my humanity - heroes always have good intentions. I’d received a g-letter from my biological father, of whom I still have no knowledge, with salutations from the road. His vacant greeting headlined the single page with the remainder of the correspondence written in double-spaced sentences posturing ‘reminders’ I somehow knew he would’ve liked to have posted on my formative bedroom door. Father insisted I be made aware that he and my unknown birth mother would prefer it if I refrained from using 'fuck' as a verb et al in their elder presence. Near the bottom of his note he’d scotch-taped a blue-grey metallic chewing gum wrapper folded in a slipshod braid reminiscent of the ponytail pairs I had happily woven into my head as a child. White sheet in hand, all that ran over in my mind was a recorded loop spilling out the reusable hit ‘role playing asshole’.
Meghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
Minnesota - Saturday, March 03, 2001 at 00:31:55 (CST)

I have not drempt in over a week, however I'd like to use this cyberspace just to say that --Electric-Fence-- is my choice for the best song of '00 ('lil late on these things). So lets get goin' on that new one already. Also, I've discovered that the tupperware bins actually stored relish. out.
you may call me Jon <you may not call me>
Mi here - Friday, March 02, 2001 at 15:37:43 (CST)

The Beatles were playing in a medium sized auditorium. It was all four original Beatles and they were all the age they are now (John was the age he would be now). They were lind of old and wearing sweaters and stuff. Everyone was enjoying the show but it wasn't really that big of a deal. No Beatlemania or anything. We just all loved the songs. I was standing up in the back with a couple friends. Then we walked down towards the front and seated ourselves up in the bleaches. Now instead of the Beatles on stage, a young Jewish mystic sat crosslegged at a kind of podium. He had an unreal amount of hair. Imagine Robert Smith of the Cure with about 6 times as much hair. He, of course, had the full beard too. The crowd was now kind of a cross section of the American population. The mystic began to go into a meditative trance and after a couple minutes, some folks in the crowd were heckling him and laughing and eating fried chicken. The next thing I remember, I was the mystic guy and I was driving some kind of minibus in the desert. The minivan shook wildly as it had no shocks and the ground was so bumpy. The minivan was full of people. We bounced around so much that it was like we were riding horses. Then we were riding horses. I was leading. It was hard to ride. I sand while I rode. I fancied myself a kind of Cat Steven type Mystic Singer guy but my voice wasn't too good. The horse tried to throw me a couple times. I led the group to a very strange area. As far as I could see in any direction was barren ground with little white mushrooms growing every two feet apart. It was some kind of experimental farm. I got a bid vibe from it. The sky above seemed to have no life to it. Total quiet, not even wind. Then we saw some glass shelves where the white mushrooms had been turned into various things (anything you can imagine: a football, a frog, a star, a ship, etc.) and they were all moving around in their little glass cases like animated figurines. Iyelled to everyone in my crew: "Don't touch anything!" because I had the feeling that we were somewhere in Europe and this farm was operated by the Nazis and the Aliens.
tony <tonymog@hotmail.com>
- Thursday, March 01, 2001 at 11:12:00 (CST)

Scuba diving in the ocean. He and I are partnered up and his parents are a little further inland. The water is gray and turbulent. We are diving for something on the ocean floor,but we have to feel for it with our hands because the kicked up sand makes for poor visibility. We are having fun feeling around in the dark and it is quite exhilarating when we find one. The whole scene is reminiscent of my childhood sand-dollar hunts. I am bumped a few times and he asks me if I felt that. I answer yes and he says that I have been shark kissed. I'm not concerned and believe that it must have been something else. Eventually the four of us got out of the water and headed for my grandmother's house. I noticed that the right side of my body ached. I looked down and found that my wrist was missing huge chunks of flesh. I could actually see my tendons, bones and muscles. I felt faint and realized that I had been losing enormous amounts of blood in shark infested water. The fear hit and we ran out to the garage to tell his parents. His mom told me that she had seen the shark fins all around me, as she talked,I could simultaneously see what she was desribing and the current garage scene play out. She had decided that they must have been part of a gray dock. He tells me that he is taking me to the emergency room. I wanted something for the very realistic feeling pain. I stood there in a black and yellow wet suit staring into my wrist feeling overwhemingly horrified. I decided that the suit was somehow a second skin that had held some of my blood in. I didn't want to find out if this was the case. The stress of that idea sent me shooting up and out of the whole dream scene. I think this is when people usually wake up gasping... Instead I was shown that the ocean was actually a small, warped, M.C. Escheresque, gazing-globe square of dream reality floating in a dark astral landscape. I had created it for the purpose of my dream.
Juniper Pearl
mn - Wednesday, February 28, 2001 at 10:39:10 (CST)

Running flat redsand road on my belly moving along a path that narrowed into a shallow corridor. Elizabeth McGovern was at the end in a corner before the T. I slithered up to her, feeling strong as my midsection ran firm along the dirt. I can’t recall a coherent conversation, but I remember in closing she said ‘you look like you need a flower in your hair’.

- Thursday, February 22, 2001 at 00:42:19 (CST)

We were at the lake and that old song Boys of Summer kept playing over and over again on the radio. Sweet dreams.

- Tuesday, February 20, 2001 at 23:58:10 (CST)

These dreams are all about you.

- Monday, February 19, 2001 at 18:05:34 (CST)

Riding shotgun down the river in the bed of my truck. Feels like the northwest, pine trees melt into ancient figures whispering moonlight messages…overhead amplification of women’s voices "she’s doesn’t know all of you very well, and until she’s sure, she’s going to spend some time alone, until she knows you better and will be able to decide…"
rebecca
mn - Monday, February 19, 2001 at 17:33:14 (CST)

i dreamed last night that brian deck came to my house in east lansing to bring me the new califone cd. even though i've had it since new year's, i was happy to have the extra copy 'cause it had some sweet cover art with a silvery-blue holographic picture of tim rutili. mine is only a burned bootleg copy in a clear case, not that i'm complaining. it also had a fabulously funny title (as opposed to "new califone"), but i unfortunately can't remember that one little detail...
maria, maria <miss_maria@go.com>
mich. u.s of a. - Monday, February 19, 2001 at 13:51:47 (CST)

I am in a cafe and you are seated at the bar surrounded so easily by drunken admirers. I move unseen to a stack of your canvases piled in the corner. I make the decision to steal one and quickly leave. Eye contact is made as I boldly walk in front of the windows with your rolled up painting tucked under my arm. Next door is a studio where I unroll the canvas and spend some dream time painting over your images with beautifuly saturated colors that seem more like emotions than paint. In the moment it is a completely lovely transcendent experience but I can't escape the underlying shawdow of the past. I am trying futily to erase it with beauty. I finish and nervously step back outside. You are still seated at the bar and the moment our eyes meet I realize that the canvas has become one of your old hand painted t-shirt's. I am wearing my crime. There is no hiding and as I move further down the steet I understand that I can not ever completely be free of any experience because this body is the ultimate canvas.....flowing.
mac
- Monday, February 19, 2001 at 11:01:57 (CST)

i was playing poker with a small group of people i didn't know very well. i knew a couple of them well enough to be turned off by their personalities. they would babble on and on and bore the shit out of me. through examining the table carefully (this was a seven card stud game) it became nearly apparent that i had the winning hand. massive wagering ensued, a green light situation. i was met and raised by these guys several times. with quiet internal glee, i pushed more cash into the pot, relishing the impending moment when i would silence the yammering at least for a couple of seconds. hundreds of dollars sat in the pot, but what i looked forward to most was the stunned silence rather than the money. the showdown came, i reached for my down cards and discovered that my hand was missing from the table. my cards were missing. i began looking around for my cards, to escalating social awkwardness. looked under the table, looked over by that bookcase, looked in the next room...they were RIGHT HERE....where the FUCK are my CARDS?! i was jolted awake by the pure agitation of the situation. not a nice way to start a sunday.
old yeller <dontshootme@inevitable.com>
- Sunday, February 18, 2001 at 11:08:08 (CST)

her eyes were like hard boiled eggs with no yoke, i prayed for insomnia

- Tuesday, February 13, 2001 at 03:22:38 (CST)

my dad died of a heart attack and i laughed
orange
- Monday, February 12, 2001 at 20:33:00 (CST)

He takes me into a boat shaped room and tells me to lay down for awhile. The walls are paneled in the darkest wood and it makes everything gloomy. The bed sits wedged into the "bow" of the room under two windows that face eachother. The windows have been shut for years and the place has a closed off, unused feeling, like my memories of my grandparents house, where everything seemed to belong to the past. I sit on the bed and he holds me in a solid familiar embrace. He whispers into my ear before leaving, "Your energy is so low, take a dexidrine." I lay down alone watching the swirling dust motes, feeling bad. I realize that I am like this room to him, only a dusty memory now. I get back up and open the windows. The whole feeling in the dream changes instantly as the fresh air fills it. I hear murmering in the hall. Is it him? I wait, wanting to share this sparkling shift with him. It's as though I want to make sure that he understands that it was the rooms heaviness and not mine that brought him down. The door is pushed open by a short fat dog, a retriever who is holding a five dollar bill in his mouth. I am done waiting. I take the money and climb out of the window into another dream.
mezzotint
- Tuesday, February 06, 2001 at 09:56:36 (CST)

i believe it

- Tuesday, February 06, 2001 at 09:07:25 (CST)

...stopped by unannounced in the mint green hallway of your attic floor apartment off the park. I had/have never been there before and felt an urgency to get behind an open door, afraid they’d inquire as to who I was and my business there. Your place was on my right, next to a window - it was dark outside and I wondered if I should knock on wood or ring an existing bell. Cringe factor rose with uncomfortable thoughts of yourreactionmyembarassment to my unexpected calling. I decided to knock, as there was no button to push, and heard quick steps down to the entry. ~ awoke in that middle realm of an conscious/unconscious moment, then fell back asleep for the apparent second segment~ The futon frame orientation felt suprisingly ‘centered’ in the bedroom space and I was staring at his glasses tossed on the sheets. His head was resting on my hair and I watched his five fingers bend crevice-like below my pubic bone. I had that fiery silver-fume surge above my nose - that flavoring which drives upwards and comes to expel there between the eyes. I felt sufficiently adored, elevated – radiant, beautiful.
Meghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
Minn - Saturday, February 03, 2001 at 21:58:38 (CST)

So don't hold this one against me, it made me late for work today... A group of unlikely acquaintances, a few friends, and myself were sitting in my parents basement, they were out of town, I was house sitting. The doorbell rings, i was hesitant to answer, a few sodas in me, thunderstorm outside. A good friend of mine is sitting on the porch, melting candlewax into words, maybe he was trying to tell me something, I can't read in dreams, (or perhaps getting me back for the summer's worth of wax city above his garage.) The rain stops, he lets himself inside and brings in two large tupper-ware containers, we proceed to the basement. His akward timing arouses interest in the room, everyone wants to know what he has in the oversized receptacles. He unleashes the mystery, and i cant quite remember what was there, it was green, i want to say peat moss, or perhaps alfalfa sprouts, whatever it was, it was abundant. The doorbell rings before anyone can ridicule him, again I answer the door alone, i look out the window first this time, and see a truck out front, neighbors accross the street squabbling...they are sinister. I answer the door this time to find a milkman dropping of a gallon of 2% (old enough to remember those days), his eyes had dark circles, racoon, he sported a meticulous indie rock haircut, very sporty. He asks me why I hadn't done what the wax words told me to do, "which is what?" i ask, the rain picks up again, the nieghbors are pointing. He mumbles something and i find myself chipping away the dryed wax, then something wierd happens and i get the impression that my teeth are decaying at an exponential rate. I freak out, wake up, brush the hell out of my teeth, and vow never to sleep on the couch again, i think.
Jonagain
poor - Thursday, February 01, 2001 at 10:18:31 (CST)

I don't know where I was or what I was doing, but I reached up my hand and felt a huge nail sticking out of the my head, way up above my left eye. I thought, I've got to get this out. As I pull it out I felt this unbelievable rush. There wasn't any blood, but I could feel all the blood rushing through my body, I felt like a balloon that someone was letting all the air out of. I thought, I'm going to die. But I just collapsed very slowly.
Stephanie
- Thursday, February 01, 2001 at 08:37:32 (CST)

My satellite acquaintance was in the brown bathroom mirror of an old childhood friend. He was shaving over the sink stroking down using a flimsy long razor that made me think of black licorice whips. He turned to face me – I remember I could see the pores in his skin, especially the hole ones surrounding his mouth. They were pumpkinseed size with visible veins at the bottom of each. I took my forefinger and poked it into one above his upper lip and wiggled it around. He began talking at me, rambling on about prowess with his percussionary washes, but I continued focusing on my facial excavation. When I pulled out my finger, there were tiny mealy maggots dangling from my nail…guys lice him – pudding in a plastic cup at room temperature.
Meghan <meghan@hotmail.com>
Minnesota - Friday, January 26, 2001 at 15:51:31 (CST)

This morning my wife told me that I woke her up in the middle of the night and asked her "What do you do with it? The Tripod?" I don't recall any dream.
tony <tonymog@hotmail.com>
- Wednesday, January 24, 2001 at 09:30:12 (CST)

In an older apartment on the left side of the building. I am with a group of people who are dying their hair with a bright pink wash. One of them is leaning above a bowl trying to dip his hair into the water but it won't work. His head is too big. I sit down, try to help him and decide to do it too. My hands feel electric in the rose colored water. A boy-man watches behind me and passes out draped over my back. I can feel the real weight of him. He slips off of me as I stand up and slides to the floor in a distorted pile. I notice his dark hair and perfect mouth. Familiar. I apologise but he is blank. I move to a door, it opens into a bedroom. I am now on the right side of the building. The One I had but can no longer have is sleeping in the bed. His hair is longer and as if reading my mind he sits up and tells me that all of his combs have desintegrated. I say, "Keep sleeping, I like you here." Hoping that this time he won't feel compelled to let me know how far removed he feels from me,I stand there. I am wearing a sheer yellow bra and holding a broken front clasp together with my electric hands. I watch him, wondering. He tells me the pink makes my hair appear dirty. In the mirror I see that my brown hair is glistening with very shiny highlights. It looks clean to me and I decide not to believe him. I pull out two bras from an old dresser drawer and he stands and begins putting on his clothes. No sex in this dream. I hold out the bras and ask him which one he thinks I should wear. He talks on and on about one of them looking childish blah blah blah.... I am no longer listening because I am watching a huge poster of 12 Rods that I had not noticed before coming to life behind him. This image must be influenced by those huge billboards they had around town a few years back advertising some new album...The band is creeping out of the poster with their fingers held up to their lips warning me not to tip him off. They descend on him and quickly drag him back into their poster world. He tries to play it off hip with some flip comment about all they had to do was ask and he'd be happy to sit in with the band but I know it's the end for him. I yell up into the poster, "12 Rods are gonna eat you"!
Juniper
- Thursday, January 18, 2001 at 12:52:55 (CST)

he found us. i don't know why we stopped at the conveniece store; all i wanted to do was get out of town and keep driving until we found some cabin in the middle of woods where we could just be together. i saw his yellow station wagon drive by and knew we were caught; i hid behind the counter. he came in toting a sawed-off shot gun. i crouched down and put my fingers in my ears, knowing it would be loud; my index fingers were too big to fit in my ears so i had to use my pinkies. i didn't want to see what was going to happen but i looked up once and he had you on your knees execution style and for some reason was squirting water on the back of your neck where he planned to shoot you (cleaning the area?). i crouched down again, fighting with myself. i wanted to say something, to try to save you, but i was so scard that he would turn the gun on me. i sat and waited. i heard no gunshot, but i knew it was over when he came to me ran his hand down my chest in between my breasts. i couldn't stop him belonged to "them" now, no one to protect me. then he left, deed done. your body on the ground behind the counter now, me standing up seeing your legs sprawled, looking around at everyone else that was in there (also hiding behind the counter during the scene) i looked at everyone and we all knew this man died for the wrong reasons. i shouted at them that knew too. he was gone. what was i going to do now? all this love and no where to put it. and i looked down and kept repeating, "you know, i didn't even try. i didn't even try. i didn't even try,"
concetta meas
- Wednesday, January 17, 2001 at 12:44:49 (CST)

This is what happened to my head while sleeping in a Czechoslovakian hotel room. I was with my friend Kevin. We were running around in the dark, frolicking like a couple of kids. We were running down a hill. I slowed down and said "I feel like I'm flying." Kevin ran ahead, into the house and locked me out, but I didn't care. I began to run down the hill again, closed my eyes, and jumped in the air. I was airborne for just a moment longer than is possible, and I glided to the ground, landing underneath a picnic table. I ran up to the house to tell Kevin. We went to the top of the hill and began running again. I woke up, just after I jumped a second time, to the same dank, czechoslovakian hotel room I fell asleep in, much to my dismay. I pondered my extremely realistic dream and realized that my feet were raised an inch or two off of the bed. I thought I was holding them up at first, but then they began to rise up. My legs were in the air and my back was still on the bed and I had put forth no effort whatsoever. I was scared. I was violently ripped from the bed with my legs still in the air. I screamed and threw my bedsheet at my feet. My legs dropped to the ground and the sheet remain airborn, then began to move toward me. Once the sheet reached my face I woke up in the same drab czechoslovakian hotel room, my legs were numb and face cold with sweat. I should never have stopped smoking pot.
Tomasuclis <elko0003@tc.umn.edu>
Murdersota The one that bombed Dresden - Tuesday, January 16, 2001 at 08:04:29 (CST)

I was lying on the elevated bed in the spare room of my grandmother's house, feeling the self-esteem shame-shit-spiral suck me down. I was staring at the sliding closet doors slightly open with a dim light from the lone bulb with a hanging silver ball cord. KG walked in and I got up to leave telling him to get the fuck out, as I was really frustrated and angry with him. He stopped me by the arm and sat me down on the bed, which was now resting on the floor, kissed me on the cheek and said 'let's go somewhere'…we remained seated. Viewing his pant legs, I think they were dark green and baggy, he took off both shoes. He wasn't wearing any socks and I remember thinking it was cool that he felt comfortable enough taking them off in front of me. Both of his feet were swollen and red, wrapped in gauzy bandages with boil-like blisters and open sores covering them. 'the paddings almost worn down' he told me. The left foot looked worse off than the right and I felt badly, not because his feet were so shredded, but that I really didn't want to be able to smell them, so I started breathing through my mouth.
Meghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN US - Thursday, January 04, 2001 at 10:46:35 (CST)

being attacked by mutated human-like vampire people (very strong) who are sneaking in one by one (and slowly enough to be dealt with individually, as happens in movies) through cracks in the windows of the cieling of this large room, attic of a building. the cathedral cieling is made of long, narrow windows (black, like replacement windows). i am part of this group of strong, young cartoon-type people (bad guys are cartoon-like too). i keep letting others handle the attacks, but hover nearby watching (all attacks happen right inside the windows, very high up). eventually, some people are getting killed by these bad guys. the bad guys are coming faster. one sticks his head in through a crack and it becomes larger and larger, and as one of my young cohorts kills the one that came in before him i know that i should be killing the big-headed one but i wait for one of the men to do it. it dawns on me that if we hadn't been taking down the windows to repair/replace the screens that this never would have happened, which is ironic since we were doing it to make this place safer. we had broken several of these incredibly long windows in the process. someone kills the enormous head. we're down to me and 2 or 3 guys to protect ourselves in this attic room. one of the guys is really struggling with a vampire guy, and i stab the bad guy several times (my confidence increasing each time) with a pencil as they wrestle in the air. the bad guy is dying, and i get excited. of course, i realize i also stabbed and killed my cohort while stabbing him (it's revealed to me in the way that it is revealed to an audience that someone accidentally got shot in a movie gun struggle). if there are one or two more guys in the room with me, they die too. one of the last ones to die is my lover, and as a viewer, i am sad, although as the character i don't seem to care. i am alone. i am traveling along the windows looking/feeling for missing pieces of glass, which i can fill in with cardboard that's been covered with tinfoil, which i do for a while (without any vampires coming in?). eventually i realize the futility of this. it occurs to me that i can just bust out and fly through the air and since there is no way to protect myself here i might as well try. plus, it feels like i'm in a movie and this is how it has to go. all of this has been taking place at night. i push my way out through a screen, and i am floating/falling out and down, and vampires whoosh past me but can't catch me or change their direction, which strikes me as silly, and adds to the movie feeling (and i get optimistic, like i'm going to win). i am being sucked down toward the street, and i can see storefronts and i am sucked into the door of one (it is summer, and doors are propped open and lights are on). it's an arcade. there is a huge, strong man behind the counter (glass case, register, very shiny). he is definitely from the future, i realize this has all been taking place in "the future." a robot security guard, all shiny and muscular, grabs me from behind in the hallway, flips me around and looks right into my eyes for a few seconds, then throws me back into the arcade and says something like "this one's o.k." and i feel relief for a half-second, then quickly realize that i don't know if the robot and the guy in the arcade on my side or the vampire side. i run to the next room, where i feel that i am in the opposite of what the other room was (in terms of safeness), which is meaningless since i am feeling 50-50 about the first room. and i keep going west, through doors into storefronts and every time i don't stay but a second because i am either finally safe or about to be killed and i can't tell which. it's scary and hopeless. i even wonder if these store proprietors and security guards are real or holograms. I feel like i'm being toyed with. i am able to look down at myself and i wonder if it was worth it fall out of the room at all, and also if it might be better to try to get back out into the night, or if i should just stop running and see what my fate is in the room i am in at that moment. and i try to recall if i saw anything in the eyes of the security robot that would indicate whether he was on my side, but all i can see is a color, and it bothers me that i don't have good judgement. then i woke up.
r.
il please - Wednesday, January 03, 2001 at 20:11:39 (CST)

I was on the phone and smoking the tailend of a cigarette left in the middle of our discussion. You were already gone and forgot to take your jacket with you. I was worried that you wouldn't have a hood on your head--the leaves on our ficus had shaken into purple and made me more concerned. I realized I was speaking to you on the line and reminded you about the hood. You told me not to be so mellow-dramatic and not to burn it down to the filter.

- Tuesday, December 26, 2000 at 20:54:07 (CST)

Não foi um sonho, foi real, limpei minha bunda com a foto da minha ex.
Coxinha <eatcoxinha@hotmail.com>
- Thursday, December 21, 2000 at 04:46:21 (CST)

This is my friend Anne's dream that she sent me. so i had this nightmare adam. it freaked me out because i didnt think that i could dream something like this that ive never seen before. i dreamt that i was in the bedroom with some guy and a snake acidicly sizzled away his spine and entered his body so there was only spiky vertebra and this crevice where the spinal cord was. i left the bedroom and then snakes started opening the door- i think they laid eggs in his body. they had fat heads and juicy skin like frogs though -they were really grotesgue and i was trying to fight them off as they were coming one by one through the door. black blood getting all over and there were my sisters in the house and they didnt seem to worry-i kept telling them to save themselves but they didnt leave the basement. it was horrific and i still think about it. me slashing them with scissors and nives.
Adam Boysen <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN USA - Wednesday, December 20, 2000 at 22:07:03 (CST)

John Stanley, I like how you dream. Would you share another?

- Wednesday, December 20, 2000 at 12:16:08 (CST)

I was climbing an impossibly steep and unsteady open air spiral staircase, along side an ancient, unusable collapsed set of stone stairs. The steps were actually little steel antennas that would spring to life when my foot found them. I climbed forever, slowly moving out of the shadows to where the stairs ended and I stepped onto a hovering island of soft green spring grass. A figure waited for me. I had a sense of knowingness but I couldn't see the face clearly. We walked over to an oven sitting in the middle of a field and he opened the door. Inside there was a little heap of miniature clay-like people having an orgy, the heat somehow helped them get off. Horrified,I watched as they burst into flames, some continued to fuck, oblivious to the fire and others began screaming. I slammed the oven door and ran but the sounds of their hideous death shrieks had somehow shot straight into my soul. I woke up and couldn't shake off the horror. I can still feel it.
starpearlcar
MN - Wednesday, December 20, 2000 at 11:11:20 (CST)

On the second story above the garage, the place has a sorority feel to it. I'm in a large oblong bedroom with several twin beds…2-tier curtains in wooden windows--blue flower fabric is hanging on their brass rings. I glance out one of the windows overlooking the driveway, careful not to be seen, feeling out of scene. An old-school-smooth red convertible is parked on the pavement, white ragtop down, others standing around, talking, laughing. I move to the stereo and rotate the tray to an Air disc, not the soundtrack, but the one I remember, although can't place as fact. I leave the room and walk downstairs with a group of girls to the ground floor, but they head towards another group of guys striding directly in front of us and we end up crossing over to the top of the stairs on the opposite side, remaining on the 2nd floor. I feel disgust and frustration at not having reached the 1st floor destination and turn to inform one of the girls that we're still on the same level, but she's not interested in the obvious and replies, "there's someone here to talk to", referring to one of the guys we had passed. I have no idea who she's speaking of, having recognized no one.
EmMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
Mn usa - Tuesday, December 05, 2000 at 11:49:08 (CST)

i wrote a novel as a novelty for all the other dreamers, sighted in my obect obsessed confession, so novel pity you
that one kid <with a url>
AOL militiagan - Monday, December 04, 2000 at 00:32:49 (CST)

Ich träumte davon, dass auf der Strasse tote Katzen lagen, flach gewalzt von Autos. Dazwischen streunte ein Hund, zwischen dessen Beinen eine Katze mit blutigem Kopf ging. Sie wurde wie vom Hund beschützt. Ich musste architektonisch gelobte Treppen, aus Glas und Marmor, hinab steigen. Doch die Geländer fehlten teilweise, die Tritte waren falsch bemessen und rutschig.
Kellenberger <kellenberger@tuch.ch>
Switzerland - Sunday, December 03, 2000 at 04:48:24 (CST)

The eyebrow slow to move upwards in recognition. She leaves without a sidelong glance as she did before. Chief lies bloody in the snow. The cops come and for once are understanding of your plight. "Flow river flow" you say, and the salty river does come a'streaming, and you think, "Perhaps I don't suffer from stage fright after all". She talks of doing a final project on puppets, and you think "Someday I will marry you".
Adam Boysen ("drunk") <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN USA!!!! - Sunday, December 03, 2000 at 03:15:36 (CST)

sitting in the kitchen before the '89 addition-she was speaking on the phone with a service rep at the post office. she thought she'd notified them of her move…now residing @ 3500…she needed to have the vitamin E sent to her new address. he was standing near in the corner, easybeamingwarm at me-white polo tshirt, unshaven face with bed-kept brown angled hair. hanging around, as he was made smiling commentaries in my direction, but I can't recall the topic(s?)…then found myself driving through an intersection coming up to an all-way stop sign…there were series of known 3s coming together, one of them had to do with town and country/tj merging together or meeting up at some focal point with the other two
e.m.r
- Monday, November 27, 2000 at 09:21:00 (CST)

everybody looks the same
matt spellcheck <Alethes1@aol.com>
CA USA - Sunday, November 26, 2000 at 19:51:06 (CST)

As of recent I have been trying to write my dreams down when I wake in the morning. I try to follow them up with a bit of my reality, or a brief description of what I may think it is about. For my sake I refuse to use names. I think I know who this one is about but in my dreams faces & bodies morph too often for me to be positive but in my mind i know who it was. D: It was kind of sunny. Your bike was parked outside next to a bike I had never seen before. I was looking through a sun porch and you were holding a phone in your hand. The conversation was short but well said according to your face. Short sleeved T & blue jeans. Boots?? Nothing is proportioned. You look small. I feel like i'm trying to go somewhere, my body is heavy but my eyes seem to be free. Biking ahead you seem happy, less constrained. Were you always? I always seem to see everything from afar, you seem very happy but it is always speculated. Back home, it's always dark. No matter what room, no light seems to be able to seep in. I know i'm not alone, but I can never see you. You are the mystery that I am familiar with. Your voice whispers in my ear "Just try to sleep". That is when I awoke.
John Stanley
- Sunday, November 26, 2000 at 14:46:08 (CST)

I was visiting Winona, Minnesota, where I lived for three weeks when my parents moved there right before I moved to Minnapolis. I don't remember much of that 3 weeks, except that whenever I walked outside, the weather was really stoned. And I listened to a lot of Spacemen 3 then. Draw your own conclusions. Anyways, I was visiting my Dad at the high school, which is a very beaten down place. Lots of earth tone lockers and paths worn in the carpet. I stopped by my Dad's class, and sat down. Patricia Arquette was sitting next to me. I said to her, "Nice shoes", as her shoes were very nice. They were brown leather running shoes, looking futuristic and old at the same time.
Adam Boysen <robotica@rocketmail.com>
- Saturday, November 25, 2000 at 20:54:18 (CST)

BoMbInG
I was in my home with several of my friends for some sort of party I think, but there was this general discomfort. I looked outside the glass doors of the den and saw round metal objects, slightly larger than basketballs, with circular tail-things falling from the sky. I've never seen anything quite like them before, but I knew that they were bombs. I could see them coming down everywhere within my range of sight, as if Madison county was being carpet-bombed. Everyone was suddenly panicking. The strange thing was that I couldn't hear anything; I could only see what was happening and feel the emotions of those around me. One of the bombs came down, hitting at the corner of the glass door, just as I moved behind someone who was walking past it. It didn't quite explode as I had thought it would, rather it's form disappeared in this blinding light that flashed into the room making everything white, and it was gone, leaving no physical damage.
The panic in the room rose and everyone moved towards my brother's bedroom, crowding into it as though it were a safer place. As this was happening, someone began to pound on the front door. Three boys from the group of people, including Robert and my brother, threw themselves aganst the door and locked the deadbolt then ran with the last of the people into my brother's room, shut the door and locked it.
I moved into my own room locking the door. Then, shutting myself in the closet, I huddled against the back wall. I could feel the people moving around uncomfortably in my brother's room. (It was like hearing them, but as previously mentioned, I didn't actually hear anything in this dream.) Someone, I'm fairly sure it was Robert or my brother, perhaps both, came out into the hallway and jiggled the handle of the door to my room. They were calling out to check on me. (I can't explain how I knew they were calling out, because I couldn't really hear them, but I knew that they were.) They gave up and returned to my brother's room, locking the door again.
Shortly after, I could feel the front door being broken down/in and someone armed with a gun and sword enter. (Yes, I said gun and sword. I could distinctly feel a stranger's lifeforce and that they were carrying those two weapons.) They passed by my brother's room in which everyone had frozen in place, and went straight to my door. They unlocked the door somehow and came in. I could feel the person look around my room then move to the closet.
They opened the door and I found myself looking up at a boy who was my age, if not younger, in a soilder fatigue carrying a rifle in his right hand and a long-sword sheathed at his left hip. I stood up, with my back against the closet wall, a sword from my family's collection in my right hand. I set a protective shield to block the gunshots. (Wouldn't that be an interesting spell to learn in real life?) The boy dropped the rifle and unsheathed his own sword. I could see runes for strength and power running like shadows up and down the blade. We each moved our swords forward, them meeting with a terrible clang of metal. We then moved back of each other slightly. The upper section of my blade fell to the floor, the sword cut cleanly in half. Blue flames immediately rose up along the blade, replacing the missing part with the darkest of blue flames.
~WAKE UP~

here's a sketch of the bomb... http://www.angelfire.com/yt/mypiks/images/bomb.jpg

08-08-00
Lycorne
AL USA - Sunday, November 19, 2000 at 18:09:21 (CST)

my honey and i were travelling and we came upon the town of aldi, arizona. aldi is the name of a c-grade grocery store in chicago and so (naturally?) our interest was peaked. upon arriving where aldi was supposed to be, we saw only desert. confusedly, we walked around searching. finding nothing, we concluded that the town must not exist, it must be one of those fake landmarks that map publishers place on their maps to catch copyright infringers. then we saw two doors, two glass-and-metal doorways standing, seemingly alone in the desert. this freaked me the fuck out right away but we tried the doors. the left one wouldn't open, but the right one did and we entered. we found ourselves in an example of a pervasive kind of modern urban indoor space, the kind of hallway / thruway that one might find inside a shopping mall or a museum or a downtown hotel lobby. the space was carpeted, air-conditioned and basically deserted. my first reaction was to leave and so i tried the door. it wouldn't open. the door next to it did open and i stepped through back into the desert. only this time, a previousy un-noticed ground-mounted black mechanical device made whiny, grindy robotic sounds and swivelled a nozzle in my direction. the nozzle began to emit flame in a curious slow-motion manner. rather than get crisped, i entered through the IN door again. maureen (that's my honey) and i explored the hallways of aldi, arizona. some hallways ended and we had to turn around. some hallways emptied out into larger halls where people could be found. we met some people including a white guy named les, who was in his late 50s and was a friendly, boring sort, the kind of guy you would find at work as an engineer in a large company, the kind of guy who, even though he does a very good job, gets fired late in life because he's just not at the right meetings. we chatted with les and we discovered that aldi was an urban planning project undertaken by a group of people who had come from all the long-gone chicago-area rocery stores maureen and i knew about and remembered over the years; a&p, centrella, certified, butera, etc. this was where these poeple went, and they built thir own city. i forget exactly what happened inside (come to think of it, that's the same thing that happens to me when i go food shopping) but as we were gearing up to leave, i congratulated les on his city and i told him i hoped it would succeed. he chuckled as we left and waved off my concerns saying something like "don't worry, we're adding three more cities this year...". for some reason he mentioned austin, tx...whoa -r
rob webmaster <rob@perishablerecords.com>
il usa - Saturday, November 18, 2000 at 10:38:06 (CST)

alone leaving in a red truck pulling away from my parents gravel driveway with the sweet sounds of barrett’s late night traveling with scenes that had played out on my pillows... only 2 months, but the beautiful warm call came and i made the decision to drive down. looked up to catch a glimpse of the stars overhead…cloud wisps moved over the lights just as an enormous die dropped down and crushed the old maroon jeep. realizing what was behind me, mouth open, i was ready to go. are you?

mn - Wednesday, November 08, 2000 at 19:46:29 (CST)

of course i was pretty jazzed to see johnny cash and benny goodman perform on the same day, but by the time goodman went on i'd already forgotten what johnny played. goodman came on in a turquoise warm-up suit and walked us through some exercises. there was a logo on the suit but we were so far back i couldn't read it. i was a little put off, but he seemed to be in good shape for a dead 90-year old black man, and i figured if ray charles can do it, why can't goodman? so goodman finishes up with the calesthenics, and gets down to some mean clarinet. after the gig, the hall gets smaller until it's like a little college lecture hall or even a classroom. for the ecore, goodman comes out carrying a plywood victrola, only it's not even plywood, it's cardboard or foamcore covered with sticky paper badly printed to look like wood grain. no matter, the crowd gets the reference to some old symbolic issue of goodman's and goes silent with awestruck anticipation. the band jams away like mad, kinetic like a 1920's cab calloway cartoon, and goodman angrily throws the victrola across the stage with a defiant "i ain't doing that again!" attitude. the crowd goes nuts. they finish the number and goodman returns for the final encore, this time somber like paul robeson. he stands in front of a dramatically spotlit anvil, picks up a hammer in one hand and an unfinished shoe in the other and intones the first line of a famous routine: "i was a shoe blackener. the worst job there is." he goes on to tell his metaphoric tale in hushed, reverent tones, and the crowd is at full attention except for one giggly girl. goodman, still a very intimidating, chiseled-faced balck man at 80 years, walks directly to her and places the half-blacked, buttery leather shoe on her foot. the girl looks distressed, eyeing the shoe which now has some dark blue flowered accents, asking "why you put that on me?" but everyone else there knows, and the show is over. my folks and i get up to leave. my dad's still pretty confused, barely able to stand on his own, and as he teeters, he's careful not to bump into goodman, who's gingerly holding the girl's hand, consoling her. the parents and i walk past the half-open starbucks stand, look at some magazines. as we walk back to the car, they tell me "she can get a ride," referring to my girlfriend, but i know who they're talking about and despite what everyone thinks, she's not my girlfriend. i tell them "she doesn't live anywhere near me." my mom is sad: "oh hoh, why can't you find someone who lives a little closer?" i ruefuly reply: "the human heart knows no compass, or road map."

- Monday, November 06, 2000 at 09:52:43 (CST)

they wheeled barbara streisand out and she explained why she wasn't going to perform anymore. her voice sounded normal, but her body had shrivelled and withered to about a third it's normal size, and she no longer had any hands; her arms ended in pointy stumps. in a touching display of compassion, her husband was feeding her jello with a spoon. she seemed in pretty good spirits, all things considered.
stanley b. hamilton
- Sunday, November 05, 2000 at 12:18:21 (CST)

I was doing a girl....some minutes later I was bleeding with a knife in my chess.ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
daniel Meltmen <meltmen@hotmail.com>
sp brasil - Thursday, November 02, 2000 at 14:52:13 (CST)

Eu sonhei que estava fazendo intercâmbio com uma família de esquimós. A casa deles era uns 5 andares abaixo do subsolo. Então eu fui dar uma volta sozinho e parei num restaurante chinês, onde passava um rio no meio. Muito foda! Óxk
Oscar C. Segovia (Óxk) <oscosc@hotmail.com>
SP Brazil - Thursday, November 02, 2000 at 14:44:32 (CST)

Lay Low for the Letdown?

- Saturday, October 21, 2000 at 13:17:07 (CDT)

Laying on the couch watching a Scorpions concert on tv. It wasn't the real Scorpions like we know them but a far superior group. The concert was filmed using beautiful arial shots. There were a lot of band members,all in their 40's but relaxed and casual in a 1970's California way. The tune they did was called "Shut Up, Shut Up" and it was a sweet soft rock song. Beautiful and warm. The background singers sang the words "shut up, shut up" so soft and nice.
tony <tonymog@hotmail.com>
- Thursday, October 19, 2000 at 15:39:31 (CDT)

Setting the table for 4 with white china dinner plates with matching saucers, teacups and linen napkins. JC is sitting down, his 6’6” frame spilling over the small place settings. He looks to me as I’m pouring beverages for all in tall drinking glasses, 7up I believe. He says, ‘I need to have cherry caramel mixed in that drink’. I’m in the grocery store in front of shelves with several potential items. I grab a package that I think to be the goods, but as I turn to head up the aisle, I remember…it comes in a tin can.
Meghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
- Tuesday, October 17, 2000 at 23:52:55 (CDT)

I was standing in a record store with about 50 other people. Everyone one was standing in group facing one direction, as if there was an in-store performance, except there wasn't. They were just standing there listening to the record store PA. They were into it and soon I was too. When one song was about to end there was a tense feeling of anticipation over what they would play next. Then Jim O'rourke's Bad Timing came on and I said "yes."
Tom <elko0003@t.c.umn.edu>
mn USofA - Tuesday, October 17, 2000 at 13:42:35 (CDT)

dream on, dream on, dream yourself a dream come true.

- Sunday, October 15, 2000 at 01:42:35 (CDT)

so it was weeks after the notion of the stormy phone booth that the distorted windows of the celestine chapel to a fragmented mirage of discipline allowed me to ferment in the verdict of lost progression, as if the electronic network of introverts, with their digitalization of thought processes and existensial visions of a more promising tomorrowland, could prove theories about relativity through experiences of the subconscious, then the phone rang and we looked up to the stars to see if the explosion was truely above us, or if we were caught looking down to much while we walked, i woke up
jan wans <whovines@hotmail.com>
Militiagan usnever - Friday, October 13, 2000 at 10:52:27 (CDT)

I dreamed I was looking at 3 photos. My mother, myself and my father. Lined up, just like that. I remember that my mother's nose looked bulbous and ugly, extremely exagerated. The next picture was of me and I felt relieved that I didn't look as "Jewish" as she did. I moved on to the image of my blue eyed blonde haired father and felt relief that my nose nose was smooth and small like his. Scary.
Sometimes linked
- Sunday, October 08, 2000 at 21:27:04 (CDT)

Two women constructing dolls limbs--sewing each head with long black hair, affixing suction cups to their chests and sticking them to the front window of their shop. Four of them on display, the shorter one is somehow slightly behind the others on the same pane. Their cloth bodies are bent slightly backwards by the weight of the hair. Sandy sidewalk outside, leaving out the doors with Dave in disbelief that a woman was holding the door open for me. He's says, "Shave the man."
EMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN - Sunday, October 01, 2000 at 00:04:42 (CDT)

i am an interspersed glitch on the sunday hitch of a dreary trip down memory lane stayley from alice in chains. in threes, in threes...
excito the magnetic acrobat <barney@extinct.com>
ca usa #1 forever dammit - Saturday, September 30, 2000 at 21:05:21 (CDT)

this is DREAMS, not acid trips...

- Saturday, September 30, 2000 at 21:01:47 (CDT)

they must have been the latent hours of the third stage of rem, a sort of real premonition came to me in a cloudy translucent form, it was warren defever telling me about how he wanted to record my band, showshane for a petty amount in livonia, militiagan, strangely a city that i grew up five minutes away from yet had no recollection of any reason to ever want to be there, yet warren insisted on it and then i was falling, must have fell for two days down the narrow side of a strato-scraper, becuase when it stopped i had timloftus insisting on doing shockwave for my bands website, a feature i couldnt care to learn yet admire like a rank and file trekie having just found his pointed arrows and even the needle and thread to sew it his shoulder until the dual alarm signaled two annoying tones spaced by nearly sixteenminutes sixteenminutes sixteenminutes sixteenmoreminutes all day long until couch alleviated the dream
jans wans showshane hands <Whovines@hotmail.com>
militiagan - Thursday, September 28, 2000 at 20:11:04 (CDT)

i also dreamt about a giant Jesus chasing me around...
lowry <elyssia20@aol.com>
ma usa - Thursday, September 28, 2000 at 11:24:10 (CDT)

i dreamt i was in a airport and a song came on over the intercom and the words of the song were about me and how i was about to crash in the plane i was about to board. i left the airport quickly and went home only to hear about the plane crash that night on the television. then i took a hot shower and went to bed. i woke up with the feeling that another body was in my bed, lying beside me. i didn't know who it was, and it was pitch black, and i was very scared...so scared i didn't want to move. after lying still for a few minutes, i leapt out of bed and flew to the light switch to see what was in my bed. i was astonished to see that what was in my bed was me.....charred, burned, with little red worms crawling on top of my body. i was holding a ring with in my left hand. i screamed, ran out of the room, and down to the neighbors where i called the police. the police came, and went up to my bedroom, where, of course, nothing could be found. i was genuinely frightened, so my neighbors allowed me to stay at their house. the next day, i went home and was washing my hands by the kitchen sink. when i turned around, the body was standing behind me, holding out the ring. i was horrified, but i nervously took the ring out of its hands, and right after, the body vanished. i looked at the ring and noticed the inscription. it said "music is given to those who listen."
lowry <elyssia20@aol.com>
ma usa - Thursday, September 28, 2000 at 11:02:53 (CDT)

Godzilla (or a large dragon like creature with a striking resemblance to Godzilla) was being exploited (or at least it seemed unfortunate in a way that an exploited large dragon might make one feel) by a circus-type operation. He was being forced (by means I was unable to determine) to rollerskate in a motorcycle stunt ball (very fast I might add) but he was given only the cheapest homemade rollerskates which were essentially 4x8 sheets of plywood with wheels attached by little more than nails. A crash seemed unavoidable and I feared once one occured there would be no stopping the carnage unless the flimsy failing rollerskates were somehow cut free.
aram
still here, unfortunately - Tuesday, September 26, 2000 at 08:28:00 (CDT)

I'm in a totally different room. The carpet is different, the windows are different. I wake up in "the fake room" and I start to float.....The floating is very realistic, and I'm aware that it's happening....I force myself to wake up, and I'm back in my real bed,etc. I'm a bit freaked out....I go back to sleep...I'm back in "the fake room, and once again I'm convinced its really my room...I wake up and there is a man standing in front of me---all i really see is the man's blured face------------I start sinking into an imaginary tunnel of colors, and shapes.............
reuben <rubydipper@aol.com>
MA USA - Monday, September 25, 2000 at 11:50:42 (CDT)

As i walked into work i noticed the ceiling was gone. Using two cranes and a giant black mesh like net the guys were scooping out the sky and putting it in a brown dumpster. Our top engineer was standing at the dumpster jotting down notes. When i approached he said "im trying to figure out how much money we can get for this shit."
evw <tideeyed@hotmail.com>
il usa - Sunday, September 24, 2000 at 19:53:30 (CDT)

ok, i was in a kichen with all my friends, and we had just smoked pot, and i said to everyone "did we eat yet", and they all looked at me and started laughing because we had just eaten, i was just so stoned that i didn't realize it. i guess this really isn't that funny, but it related to an actual experience earlier that night, see i had just started becoming sick that evening, i had a small cold, and i was eating a harvest burger and talking to my friend NIck, and i had all of th ecandles on my coffee table lit, and i blew them all out, then like 10 seconds later i said to him "How did all those candles go out?" i just didn't remember blowing them out, and he was like, "Wow, what's wrong with you, you ARE sick!", and it made me think that that's how i am when i am high. i don't know...
adam <adamemo@aol.com>
ma usa - Thursday, September 21, 2000 at 10:11:33 (CDT)

I constructed a pile of Tuesday in your backyard. Ironic lightsabers persuade
Whiskey Nick
Minneapolis, MN US - Wednesday, September 20, 2000 at 00:57:30 (CDT)

This isn't really a dream, but maybe it is if all our lives are really just the dream of a sleeping giant. It was my new friend Brad's 21st birthday. Him and his boyfriend Ben were carousing. The 5-0 came creepin'. Ben yelled at the cops, calling them white trash, and hos. Ben got put in the squad car, giving a pair of jeans he'd been carrying around to my new friend Mandy. Brad ran out, yelled "I love you Ben!" and immediatly started vomiting. It's fucking poetic.
Abam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
Minneaspolis, MN Annartica - Tuesday, September 19, 2000 at 22:19:31 (CDT)

I was a dream...I couldn´t get dream in my own dream...so I woke up and I was in hell again
Daniel <rrmeat@hotmail.com>
SP Brazil - Monday, September 18, 2000 at 01:07:32 (CDT)

i dreamt that i put together a christian rock group and was in a recording studio...johnny rotten was guesting on one track, and was singing about no longer being an anti-christ and how much he loved jesus. then i woke up.
neil p. howlett <neilphowlett@aol.com>
ma u.s.a. - Sunday, September 17, 2000 at 08:46:13 (CDT)

My sister and I were standing on the right side of the performance with angled cornrows of tall microphones directly in front of us. The drummer for the Hang Ups was playing solo Built to Spill on an orange-casted stage with polished warm wooden floors…flipped his drumstick into the air, I thought, he's going to miss it. He did, but I knew he'd catch it on the 2nd go 'round.
EMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN - Monday, September 04, 2000 at 01:51:00 (CDT)

i have a recurring dream...I am at a payphone dialing 911 and it doesn't matter what I do the number won't go through. I desperately redial, and redial, and redial knowing time is running out . Fear is imminent, it is dark and I know that someone is coming after me. I stay by the payphone paralyzed in fear and anxiety redialing 911 with no success. Each time the phone resets itself. I dream of this until I wake up
kedma <kedmab@hotmail.com>
co usa - Sunday, September 03, 2000 at 16:03:26 (CDT)

i have a recurring dream...I am at a payphone dialing 911 and everything I do the number won't go through. I desperately redial, and redial, and redial knowing time is running out . Fear is imminent, it is dark and I know that someone is coming after me. I stay by the payphone paralyzed in fear and anxiety redialing 911 with no success. Each time the phone resets itself. I dream of this until I wake up
kedma <kedmab@hotmail.com>
co usa - Sunday, September 03, 2000 at 16:01:36 (CDT)

A couple nights ago I had this dream that I was kissing one of my best guy friends! I didn't think i had a crush on him but now I'm doubting. Could any of you help me understand this? -lindsay
Lindsay <DramaQueen006@aol.com>
OH USA - Sunday, August 27, 2000 at 23:02:47 (CDT)

In lieu of weekly meetings, discussions have taken place with separate functional areas regarding target agenda items. City Center, top floor, sitting in an office chair facing John R. William in an airy room, glass walls. Think I see Sam walking by, no not her, while I am trying to pick out the best stone bear figurine for him, something solid, useful and beautiful. He is facing the table against the wall bent over, going through the advertising/promotions budget. Shirt untucked, hanging open in the back… warm back, my front hand strokes and holds him up. I think it's french blue. Discuss and outline solution strategies surrounding current and pending challenges with profitability levels and fall plan EBIT objectives. He and I will continue to meet weekly to discuss and research on-going product performance analysis, its applications, and direction. I think I chose a white bear. Foreheads together, he points to my nose and feels embarrassed that he had commented on it at all. Remains sitting close across from me though.
EMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN - Friday, August 18, 2000 at 17:10:05 (CDT)

travelling on a bus with some passengers,passed through large contruction buildings, saw new buildings, crossing the river, then passed through a mountain full of small stones, a size of an egg, all in the same size, stones are in black and white. the passengers has to clear the stones to let the bus passed. at the next stop, someone sat on the chair telling the passengers about a plane has crashed.the crashed took place in london or somewhere that area. the plane was carrying musicians from north africa.so we went closer to the airpot, observing from a higher place,we were looking down at the airport.saw people panicking and crying,wearing white clothes.these are the foreigners.saw british police with blue or slighly black colour uniforms looking after the foreigners,one fat old man in brown traditional clothes try to passed through the police line but were sent back by the police,his son was one of the passenger. others also tried to get to the line and the police send them back again.then it started a big fight between the families of the passengers and the police.....
kamel <baata@ihug.co.nz>
ack new zealand - Friday, August 11, 2000 at 14:50:58 (CDT)

I was a gangster that was gunned down by my arch rivals. I was on the ground. My face was very hot. Lying face down in a playground, I heard one gunman ask the other if I was shot in the head or the face. Playing dead and realising that there was warm blood all over my head, I hoped they would be satisfied with what they did abd leave. "Uh, I think I only got him in the head." The second gunman who seemed to be in charge of the whole scene said to give me one more "pop" right square in the face so I am not recognisable. "Shit." I thought. then all of a sudden, I felt a huge slam in the face that wasn't at all painful. The next moment, everything went from pitch black to a slow motion overview of myself and the two thugs who whacked me. I floated slowly but surely, higher and higher. Snow dropped as I rose. I was fully aware of what was going on. The moment got so intense, I had to wake up. So I died in my dream. Yet, I still live. maybe I should pay off those gambling debts....
K.K. Hodgins <hodgins@air.on.ca>
ON Canada - Tuesday, August 01, 2000 at 22:15:33 (CDT)

I dreamed I saw D. Boon last night, alive as you or me. I said "I had a feeling you were 15 years gone". He said that he had never died.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
- Wednesday, July 19, 2000 at 15:50:14 (CDT)

I WAS A DOT ON A GRAPH TRYING TO ESCAPE THE PRYING EYES. NO ESCAPE.
JASPER COWNTEE
- Thursday, July 13, 2000 at 10:44:41 (CDT)

i was a small child again, perhaps five or six. i was being told by a tall, authoritative figure who wasn't my father (or anyone else i know, for that matter) that if i didn't brush my teeth three times a day with the right amount of toothpaste i would proceed to lose them one by one, slowly but surely until i had a mouth full of gums and tongue like some of the more fervent members of the michigan militia that tim loftus is so scared of. i held out my toothbrush since i was apparently too inexperienced to be trusted with the responsibility of loading it up with the proper amount of paste, and the man squeezed out a squirt the size of a stick of pepperoni. it somehow all fit on my brush, and i stood and stared at it for a brief moment, wondering how on earth i was ever going to fit all that in my mouth. the bathroom got dark and shadowy, and the man insisted again that i had to brush my teeth with that monstrous toothbrush RIGHT AWAY. i stood there with a half-witted smile on my face, trying not to cry, feeling the teeth begin to come loose in my mouth, but unable to make my mouth open or force the brush in without beginning to gag. i woke up soon after that, confused as all hell. whether this dream is a phallic metaphor or simply a flashback to childhood insecurities and feelings of helplessness is something i still haven't figured out.
maria <delzoppo@msu.edu>
mi. this one - Friday, July 07, 2000 at 16:16:50 (CDT)

there was a new extreme sport sweeping the country. kids would take razors and would put them inside opaque bars of soap. showering became extreme because they were constantly risking greivous bleeding. there was a lot of bleeding and cheering and bleached hair. there was probably mountain dew, that fucking piss water.
travis bursik <bursik@hotmail.com>
mo - Tuesday, June 27, 2000 at 01:05:21 (CDT)

A column theater of my numbers, and all have changed. In aisles by seats that are being transferred into AGS. He’s speaking of a project in the garage at this terminal with a headset on. Some of them are cut off in the screen area. A lot of yellows and pinks… Some stems break, but I get new ones. They are singing the line “If you want to be a good girl, get yourself a bad boy.” I am face to face with him. He is younger than me, and I think I asked him how old he was, I think he answered, or I knew that he was 21. I tell him that I am 27. Then I just decide to kiss him on the neck, and I go in for it…I am enjoying it all.
EMeghan <meghan146>
mn - Thursday, June 22, 2000 at 23:51:41 (CDT)

Sweet little drummer boy, sittin' in a dress, hands me his 7" singles and a skeleton key. Cha, cha cha-- bein' watched by the player behind the mirror.
emy
usa - Thursday, June 22, 2000 at 08:13:55 (CDT)

I saw Dave Pirner on the bus. If you dont' remember who he is, he is in Soul Asylum. I think they mostly play county fairs now. But in the dream he was wearing sunglasses and he had a white cane, and said "I have no money". He was faking it to ride for free. C'mon over to my frat, you fuckin' chump! Delta Tau! Knock on my door. I'll knock on your head!
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
- Wednesday, June 21, 2000 at 16:20:40 (CDT)

In semi-consciousness and heard her underneath my bedroom floor…"Noooooooo, I'm not ready for the coyotes yet!"
Chunkles
usa - Friday, June 16, 2000 at 09:35:07 (CDT)

dreamt me and my friend peter were chased up a grassy hill by some jerk with a shotgun. I was running as fast as possible, but, as it often is in dreams, my fast wasn't fast enough. I ran in slow motion and I think my unlaced boots slowed me down an extra bit. The guy with the gun finally got us and demanded our money. He was a little rat-faced son of a bitch dressed in aTJ Maxx mix of goth/gangster/b-boy. He had some long plasticy black jacket on. His face was vague and pinched like an albino rat with no sense. I pulled out my wallet and began to separate the cash from the receipts. He was very impatient and grabbed it all. Later, once he left, I chastised myself for not knocking the gun out of his possession and tag teaming his punk ass. Not really the most interesting dream, but I haven't recalled any dream in so long that this will have to do.
tony <tonymog@hotmail.com>
mn artichokes - Friday, June 09, 2000 at 11:11:09 (CDT)

I dreamt that I pulled a spear out of a lucky mans side.
B
Or Sometimes - Thursday, June 08, 2000 at 23:23:49 (CDT)

One evening I drank 12 cups of coffee and fell immediately into a fitfUl and Uneasy sleep. I dreamt I was in a rowboat on the ocean with tim loftus, matthewb fields, salmon rUshdie (he had the head of a fish), and a giant talking cigarette (or was that loftus?). The boat had a hole in the bottom, was taking on water, bUt seemed not to be sinking nearly fast enough. fields was speaking with a severe lisp, repeating over and again a children's rhyme made more horrible by his impediment: "shishter shushie shat on a sheeshell. shishter shushie shat on a sheeshell." loftUs was speaking on the finer points of speaking on the finer points, the heretical fish-writer looking on, and I, poor wretch, frantically scanned the horizon for sign of land, ship, or solace, none of which I spied. "Ye gods! Sink, oh sink this rickety skiff!" I cried, attempting to bail the very ocean into the boat. I awoke to the soUnd of a pilfered loUdon Wainwright CD. I had peed myself.
Rev.Calvin Nilsson <oldroger@earthlink.net>
CA - Wednesday, June 07, 2000 at 13:30:55 (CDT)

a scary alien was sitting next to me on the curb outside my house...i was SO scared of it, i ran and got a hammer and hit the alien on the back of its head. this oozy, blue green liquid began to pour from the spot i hit and it trickled over the curb and down the storm drain mext to it. as it ran out the alien became smaller and smaller -- as if the oozy blue was basically him and he just kept pouring down the drain, until he was no more.
chuckles
mars - Friday, June 02, 2000 at 03:11:42 (CDT)

After an evening of fine dining, many cocktails, and lively entertainment at Nikki’s piano bar, my sister and I came to the decision to forgo seeing Elliot Smith/The Minders at 1st Ave…fell into a ½ hour cat nap after arriving home. A policeman walks by and is looking in my car and talking to me. He tries to reach in and touch my right side… I am ticklish and feel a bit vulnerable. He tries to get in , but Gary Oldman had come in the middle and came before the decision. Cut to myself signing a contract in a kitchen with Derrick’s signature on it. Part of where his name should have been typed in has been whited out and he signed his name so the last name was first. He is this man on a horse, hunting these people with bow and arrow. He sports these white gloves too. For everyone that he kills he shoots arrows to signify how many of them are left. It goes down from 4 to 1. The deaths are brutal . It is the last man and he is running up these stairs and Derrick, the man on the hoarse, is after him. I remember thinking he has bed-hair, or fuck-me hair. I see him from a distance and am worried.
EMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
mn - Saturday, May 27, 2000 at 23:12:02 (CDT)

Received a letter, registered mail, with only my first name spelled en francais. I knew that my identity had finally been uncovered and all was understood. The address was penned in calligraphy, done up in ribbonesque spiraled black ink on yellowed parchment paper. I never read what the contents might portend inside, but the message remained clear nonetheless. I didn't want to give myself away…should have kept the shades drawn down to lie.
Shoegazin' Poplover
usa - Tuesday, May 23, 2000 at 09:57:40 (CDT)

There have been several dreams now where I am paging through long forgotten books that hold old photographs of my life tucked between the pages. The images capture moments past that never were, frozen in their importance...one is of me kissing him for the first time and the highlights in my hair seem important, beautifuly significant. Another picture shows us in a library, I sit across from him and he is writing unsteady, with two bluejays swaying in the iridescent breezes behind him, uncomfortable. Eventually the pictures give way to a true dream drama, when he sees me, his eyes coil in retract, so I tell him, " I don't want to have sex with you, I only want to love you." His eyes clear, the ego gaurds fall away and we embrace allowing the pure sweetness to once again flow......
isis
usa - Monday, May 22, 2000 at 14:42:28 (CDT)

i awoke in a dream to realize a small cat had its teeth dug into the back of my ankle, ya know that achillies part, and i was kicking and watnot but it wouldnt let go. it hurt so bad i could feel it for like 10 seconds after i woke up. Then a week or so later it was the same dream but with a HUGE lioness chompin down on the same spot...but it didnt hurt as bad as the kitten. hmmm
evw <tideeyed@hotmail.com>
il usa - Friday, May 19, 2000 at 22:40:45 (CDT)

I am walking on a city street. Everything is shades of gray. It rains. People on the street don't talk to each other for fear of being accosted. It is a miserable place. Suddenly, bells toll. The skies clear. Color comes to everything around me. Two-thirds of the people disappear. Those of us left look at each other as if for the first time. We feel safe now. There is enough food and shelter for everyone. Kids can go out and play without fear of strangers because everyone looks out for each other. I get an impression of "cash register honesty," meaning now people are honest enough to correct a mistake at the register despite in whose favor the mistake is made. The bells toll louder, and a voice coming from everywhere announces, "The meek shall inherit the earth, the meek shall inherit the earth..." We rise up and soar over the city. I can see the green lawns of the park and the looks of joy on the other people.
celeste
- Wednesday, May 17, 2000 at 13:22:54 (CDT)

I am living in a tent near a ravine in a dry plateau area. I live there with my father and brother. We live here because it is the only place around with water; a small river runs through the ravine and creates lush, small trees near our home. We are strangers, outcasts from our own people because my father committed a crime. The people we live here ride horses. My mother is dead. One day, I am swimming in the river when I see downstream a group of very pale people in lots of clothes camping and going into the river. I see one little girl swim toward a place I know is dangerous; it has a strong undercurrent that I know will carry her under. So I let my body go limp in the water, knowing the current will carry me to her. I catch her and return her to shore. I look up and all the pale people are staring at me, especially one man on a horse in a grey suit and hat. We fall in love and get married. I stay with his family, who has now built houses near the shore. The women sew and talk to each other, but I don't understand. I'm pregnant now, but my husband has to leave to fight and is killed. So, my father comes for me. He shows up at the pale people's place with our old horse and a cart for my things. We drive back to the ravine in silence. He is angry with me. We pull up to our home, he looks at my belly, and he says, "You have poisoned our entire nation."
nanuck
- Wednesday, May 17, 2000 at 13:14:54 (CDT)

my family was vacationing at a deceased filmaker's private resort. it rained most of the time. my dad called me out to look at this marsh, only it was a ruse. Moving over a little bit, my dad started rocking on the moist soil. He indicated for me to look down. He was rocking on a film canister, like a finished print, that had resurfaced from being buried. It occured to me that it was a presumably lost, or buried, artifact of the famous deceased filmaker. I never did get to sell it or look at it because I woke up. I've been watching a lot of videos recently cuz hollywood vido has this 99 cent sale here. I haven't personally been blackmailed or anything like that (yet). Oh, please tell me what does it all mean?
dingo
oh - Wednesday, May 17, 2000 at 00:48:02 (CDT)

we walk together into the old haunt, the bar that could as easily be a church, and really, pretty much is anyway. it's my last night alive. dunno how i know this, but there's no question that it's true, and moreover it's a common thing. so common it's like a birthday, no one makes a big deal about it unless you tell them it's coming; it's not like it's printed in the paper or anything. i see some old drinking buddies, but their faces are hazy and indistinct, as though the better you know someone, the sharper they appear. these smoking drinking folks are friendly but with no defining features, and we move on after nodding a hello. we find the people we've come to meet and sit down, and immediately my companion starts blabbing about her day, her work, her stuff. i start to feel left out because, after all, i'm going to die tomorrow. comes a lull in the conversation and i spill the beans. everyone's a little taken aback, like maybe i spoiled their fun. some tears, an awkward silence, then my lady friend goes back to monopolizing and i just want to be left alone to die in peace.
stanley b hamilton
- Monday, May 15, 2000 at 01:45:19 (CDT)

in a car along what would be the 14 freeway (locationally). no freeway, just cobblestone. lame scenery, weak trees. i would expect to be near fillmore, going to ventura. far west in my mind. stupid women cluttering up the beach like bo derek. but i wasn't there, instead really bland images of brooke shields neither inside the car or out. i could feel sorry for brooke shields and i wouldn't know why. no sex could account for the drive, just family motivation. uncomfortable next to my brother. my sister was probably hiding out under the seat. could have passed fillmore, but now i'm thinking north, california's western path will eventually lead you north, but i would just assume go through san jouqin valley at this rate. stupid cobblestone, like edward scissorhands stuff that i can't fully relate to, but i feel that i need to be at school, or near people. it's strange to think that it's late in the game. i've said: i don't think of abuse when i'm driving, i just look for things. i could certainly abuse anything. i'm not thinking of abuse. i'm certainly not driving, i'm just watching. i certainly need to be at school. i can't relate. the imagery is sorta something that i could come out of.
matt spellcheck <alethes1@aol.com>
CA United States - Monday, May 15, 2000 at 00:30:27 (CDT)

driving in los angeles, i'm making a left-hand turn across five lanes of traffic.the slowpoke in front of me won't turn so i'm forced to gridlock the intersection. i try to turn anyway but a horrific chain reaction occurs . vehicles smashed, injuries, carnage. i run into the restaurant and meet me friends, tell them the news. they're shocked. i run back outside to move my car and most of the other cars have already been ticketed and towed. mine is in a row of three, badly bashed in the median strip. as i run to the car the left front tire is like a huge glass bubble, behind which is a cat, terrifed & screaming, paws up over the head. curious i think but run to the car anyway. as i'm getting in realize that it's a woman, injured, forgotten, lost. i pick her up, she tells me her name is laura, she's badly ijured, spiky white hair, white t-shirt, bleeding. i look around and only then notice body parts sprinkled like glass shards: fingers, arms. i carry her inside to the friends' table. they want to help but are eating, so i take her to a private table.
stanley b hamilton
ca - Friday, May 05, 2000 at 11:37:18 (CDT)

steppin' in to eden / yea, brother i dreamt that the "space hippies" episode of star trek was restaged in my living room, with the following changes: 1) spock, who in the original episode did find common ground with the hippies even as they had taken control of the enterprise, acted differently this time around, disdainfully dismissing the shaggy space commies with lines like "yeah, whatever" and "get a space haircut" 2) kirk seemed to be explicitly aware that my living room was in fact not the bridge of the enterprise and seemed lost. toward the end of the dream, he had settled for a pattern of sitting in my leather armchair and clawing at the DVD remote control, barking orders to nobody in particular 3) scotty and uhura, dressed as garden variety poor people in tshirts that read "nike" and "do you yahoo?!" hurled racial epithets at each other from across the causeway of a dingy high-rise housing project, where both of them had ended up after the space hippies took over the government. somehow, we saw this play out on the "bridge display" (my tv) 4) the space hippie leader with the prosthetic cauliflower-shaped ears ate some poison fruit as he did in the original episode, but instead of falling over dead, he sat down and started making bleeping sounds with didnt stop until i shut off the alarm
shecky kinsey <schlomo@yahoo.com>
usa - Wednesday, May 03, 2000 at 12:45:40 (CDT)

In a next steps meeting across from Steve, while Matt is giving a slide presentation on the specs for the customer service project set to roll out in Q4. I've fallen asleep there and wake up to glance at the alarm clock, 8:43, thinking that I’m later than it is. Who paid for my dinner? It must have been Walt. Phone rings and I pretend like I don’t know that it’s Glenn in the black tee-shirt with “Weightless Chrysler Mercury” puff-painted raised in pink and blue. He attempts to be playful and act tough, “you don’t know who this fucking is?”… called to tell me there’s a Smattering show that wasn’t announced. I want to go, but think that it’s too late. I look down at my breast and find I’m able to open my left nipple and see into my chest, striated reddish muscles with white bone. I think there’s something connected to my heart and ribcage, like a pacemaker of sorts. I know then that I left my car there and have to go back to get it, to drive it home.
EMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN - Monday, May 01, 2000 at 19:30:11 (CDT)

i just had a dream about kittens... sleepy little kittens.
c
- Monday, May 01, 2000 at 09:05:12 (CDT)

To be unhonest this is a dream that my friend had dreamt. Or one that is too unusual for me to admit to or even to omit to. The night was late, and the puppies were sleeping. I had my usual nightcap of opiate based narcotics (a fuel to keep the dreamer inside me alive) My bass was out of tune and my computer was even more out of tune. I reached over for my tile, maybe a bic pen and some tin foil. Sex was in the air and in my bed. I was not alone. The dropper was full of my blood and my nose was full of dust. These are the moments that dreams feel that they are made of. Are they? Not really. Anyway, my sexual adventure had just begun. Luckily I had gained the strength to maintain an erection. A problem I had never had before throughout my life. Living throughout highschool masterbating at least 5 times daily. Today --Id feel happy to say I touched my genitals a month ago. The women, I believe it was women, Perhaps just a woman had grown quite aroused focusing on my bloodfilled member. (This was the part of the dream that reminded me of Swank or something) Grabbed ahold and went to town like she was in a Japanese tournament for Pac man. Well one thing let to another and before I knew it we were in my kitchen basting this turkey with orange juice. Syringes in her arm and a turkey baster in the bird. What had become of my life!1!! Ben Ben Ben Ben --I knew that voice oh too well. I had suddenly awoken--Its time for church! Oh my God the sheets were soaking wet--Had I been blessed by Jesus Christ to allow me to have a wet dream. Had the Lack of narcotics in my system given me the sweats. Anyways-I thanked the Lord that I had come too and grabbed a guitar (lets just say an L5) I have no idea what that means, but im sure John McLaughlin would? Does this sound familiar? We'll all be here at one point in our lives.. Love Always, To the dreams that keep us dreaming
B <macrovfo>
IL USA - Monday, May 01, 2000 at 05:42:53 (CDT)

I dreamt that Sin Ropas was playing my hometown and I would be able to see some old friends in a new band. But I awoke and realized it was not to be...HY Guys
colby <colbyspath@yahoo.com>
LA U.S.Fuckin'A! - Thursday, April 20, 2000 at 12:36:19 (CDT)

Thousands of Nosferatus, walking in line on the floor of the New York Stock exchange. They walk towards each other, but then sort of melt into each other. The horrah.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
- Friday, April 14, 2000 at 16:47:41 (CDT)

I was hanging out with my Dad's best freind, which was uncomfortable seeing as how my father is dead. He lived in our house and in all the drawers and cabinets were mini moogs. Hundreds of them. He would give me one, or maybe I didn't ask, but it was of no significance because we had some fishing to do.
Tom <elko0003@tc.umn.edu>
MN - Tuesday, April 11, 2000 at 12:34:45 (CDT)

Dreamt of my biological father (of whom I have no knowledge), he is a Hispanic man of short and stocky stature. His nature/vocation is that of a thief, drug dealer and philanderer. I am in a house with his 3 sons, my brothers. The man is hunting a blonde woman who has stolen his cash and dope. He envisions her sliding beneath the undergrowth running parallel to a waterfall. He feels his hands wishing to mash her face into the dirt, choking, smothering, finally killing her. He sets up a meeting at a familiar bar, per her request, and she sidles up to him, stripper-style, and sets 2 glasses of clear water on the linoleum floor. She thinks she's hidden the coke and bills in the glasses, out of the view of the other patrons and him. The tumblers are clear though, and anyone can see what lies between them. He incites an argument and both engage in a heated debate. Their words suddenly come to an end, and they look to the ground at their feet… the deliverables are gone.
EMeghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN USA - Monday, April 10, 2000 at 08:19:17 (CDT)

At seven this morning, after a night out of drinking pints of Guinness, I was rudely awoken by the innane chatter of the all news station. Immediately my body went into action, slamming my hand down on the snooze button. I turned on my side and closed my eyes, falling back into the depths of sleep. In this state I witnessed the most amazing sunrise I've ever seen, the entire sky, from horizon to as far as the eye could see, was engulfed in a nuclear explosion of almost flourescent orange and red. I stood and walked barefoot from my bed into a plush, bright green field of lazily sloping grassy hills. I walked slowly, without direction, basking in the warmth and beauty. Then my alarm went off again, and I was quickly brought back to the real world. Filled with noise.
Kevin <kidsantiago@yahoo.com>
ON Canada - Friday, April 07, 2000 at 15:22:15 (CDT)

i don't know how unusual this dream was, but it was pretty damned disturbing! i dreamt, last night, that i was in an episode of "Fraser". it seemed, at times, that i was niles, the prissy brother. at other times, i was myself. fraser and i had opened some kind of up-scale gift shop, and there was something wrong with our business acumen, because we'd screwed ourselves and alienated our potential clientele. i was smoking a cigar (which i normally don't do, and, yes, i know the freudian implications), which i gave to fraser to hold while i tried to fix some kind of merchandise display. he put my cigar out on the floor, which pissed me off. he seemed apologetic, as he did this unthinkingly, but i still told him he had to buy me a new cigar, because i had a vague sense that it was a really expensive stogie. oh yeah, daphnie moon, the homecare worker, was there, and i was rather attracted to her (which fits the niles persona). i think i'm watching far too much tv, coupled with a slight head-cold. how the hell does someone dream that they're in a sitcom. what a fucking nightmare!
christian <chjordan@watarts.uwaterloo.ca>
ON Canada - Friday, April 07, 2000 at 13:33:06 (CDT)

I have a dream of a skinny-assed, straggly white boy thinking he's got a clue or a following. See him basking in the ecstacy of building a little corner on the web? At least, learn to sing so the nightmare can end. Loosin' and boozin' nowhere to go..... sad, getting old, man.... barfly. That's gotta hurt.
dick <lickmybig_1@yahoo.com>
ill - Wednesday, March 29, 2000 at 11:16:10 (CST)

Dreamt an Easter sunday & I was at some family gathering in a west side apt. Tim R. spoke animatedly of his latest homebrew beer, whipped up to serve at the next RRM show. Excused his temper at the jan. Lounge Ax show: the gtr. sound was skronky & his Texan-Polish heritage overwhelmed him. The homebrew was going to make the next show perfect, tho. It'd lay waste to the previous standard: feb. '99 RRM show, when Ben M. made the homebrew. Someone rapped a drum fill against the back door, telling me to wake up. Melatonin left me dazed, struggling to open my eyes. Woke to an echo of Dowser running through my head: bleed it dry feels like home.
SK <glitto@wwa.com>
IL USA - Wednesday, March 29, 2000 at 09:12:31 (CST)

I was flying backwards as I had to be someplace. I think god was behind it, sending me to my fate. I flew into some Old West tourist town. As I flew backwards, I recognized the "Thank you for visiting, y'all come back now y'hear" sign from a picture in an old book. I knew that I had to fight some cowboy who was evil. Perhaps he was Old Scratch himself. I went in a Saloon and sucked down a couple. The drinks tasted and looked just like cream soda, but got me really drunk. The cowboy came in as I was knocking back the last one, however, the drink did a number on me, and I passed out, waking up an hour later to discover the cowboy was gone. But I knew he'd be back, so I waited, but then I woke up. So I never got to take that asshole DOWN. When I woke up I had my brass knuckles on and had knocked out all of my teeth, save a molar in the back. I dream real cute too.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN USA - Monday, March 13, 2000 at 20:19:52 (CST)

Riding in the passenger seat as BT is driving my car. Cruising down Baker Rd., over the RR crossing by St. Davids. We take a right turn on to Mtka. Boulevard. I look ahead through the windshield and say, 'you think because I drive this kind of car that I'm a certain type of girl'. Our fingers are laced together, palms facing, right-to-right hand, my arm crossed over to meet his. Fearful of the response, I slightly pull my fingers away. The gearshift on the steering wheel is moved by us both to songs I recorded for--by him…one gear/song is clearly marked with my name. I now feel at ease with him, as he, BT, reminds me of Ben V. -Town & Country, so I bring our digits back together. He smiles and speaks easily 'well…it's a nice car'.
Meghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN USA - Monday, March 13, 2000 at 13:31:45 (CST)

I was at a family reunion and my father was showing 8mm films of himself as a young man. For the most part he was driving around on a really small Honda motorcycle. There was his voice narrating the films. He was saying things like "although I wasn't that popular, I still got some tail when I was in need". He kinda looked like Neil Young (late 60's Neil) and appeared to be drinking tall cans of Bud on the motorcycle. When questioned about is he said "those where different times". J.Kay.
Jeremy Kay <Jakay@hotmail.com>
NO Canada - Monday, March 13, 2000 at 06:33:30 (CST)

It was in my house, but the face of the house was gone and both floors were exposed to the street. There was a party going on, though small, orgy-esque though pretty tame. All those in attendence were familiar and I must say that most of you look really great naked. Then this big yellow truck with a roll-up door backed right up to my house like it was a shipping dock. The door went up and there was a simlilar number of people in the truck, though none familiar. A few of them jumped into the house saying things like " I just need to use the phone" and "I just need to use the bathroom". Then, this opie-haired chucklehead started drilling me with all of these personal questions and I started to get a little defensive and then I just got angry. I tried to give the guy a warning and a chance to leave or there was going to be war. I tell him I'm calling the cops, but it's implied that they're part of my army. At first, he tried to grab the phone by pulling the cord, but I let him have that phone and tell him I have FIVE others. The truck pulled out and they threw a massive box of fireworks onto Belmont. I quickly pushed a button and a door closed covering the exposed part of the house. The sound of battle is heard. Then I open the door and the street is on fire. I yell "Help" (this is verified by the girl sleeping next to me at the time, and I also appeared to be running in my sleep) and grab my favorite pair of pants to put the fires out with. It's clear there is no water, so others followed me, naked, onto Belmont and we smoldered the fire with pee. A fire truck and the police showed up, but the fire was out. I pointed down the street to the yellow truck fleeing West down Belmont and the police pursued. I woke up. I dream cute.
Tim Loftus
Il U.S.A. - Friday, March 10, 2000 at 18:19:39 (CST)

I pull up to an old loves family home. I park the car on the wrong side of the street, facing the wrong way. Through the window of his old bedroom I can see rows of plates that his mother has lit up and put on display-this is odd. Every part of the house has been painted blue and the living room picture window has been replaced with a flat screen tv that faces out into yard. There are moving images on it, so large, I can't make sense of what they are. I only see pink,light blue and tan abstractions. Across the street where houses once were there is now a lake. The water is white-capped and choppy and the wind is wildly blowing the bare trees. I wonder why has parents have blocked the lake view with a television. I go inside and there are people everywhere, milling about. I find his old bedroom easily. A dark haired seventies version of Bob Dylan is kneeling on the floor. His elbows are on the bed, proping his head up and he is surveying the party through the open door. He begins cutting fluffy tobacco into lines on a tray as if it were cocaine. He chops up three lines, 2 of the lines are very fine and the other still has large strings of tobacco in it. I sense that he is ill as he lays down on the floor next to a painting. His eyes are closed and he is slowly moving the paintbrush over the canvas, blind. He tells me that this is that strange time of night when he starts to feel terrible because he is not asleep safe in bed like all of the good people who live safe clean little lives. I pick up a white guitar and tell him that I must leave to take a moon bath. Outside there is a huge full moon setting into the lake. I float on my back in the water playing music. I can't remember the sound of the music itself, I only remember the intensely beautiful feelings that filled me while playing it.
T.S. <keter373@hotmail.com>
MN usa - Wednesday, March 08, 2000 at 11:06:54 (CST)

I just have one image from my dreams last night. It was at Niagra Falls, not the falls themselves, but that huge stretch of turbulent water before the falls. There was a boat on some rocks in the water. The whole scene filled me with dread, it seemed like some awful metaphor. For what, I do not know.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN USA - Monday, March 06, 2000 at 12:28:44 (CST)

Floating above the trees in a boat as I say farewell to my old highschool friend Kelly Steinberg, thinking that she and I will not be able to touch hands before we part. But just as I am about to set sail, our fingers catch each others as I leave, a way of speaking our good-byes. I graze the branch of a fragrant tree with indigo flowers and move up into my grandmother's backyard. I find my uncle standing in the grass with arms crossed. Out of the sky a WWII Nazi airplane nose dives in front of me. I am unafraid, as I am aware the it's not "real" in the sense that it is a hologram of some sort. I try to maneveur upwards, and as I do, the propeller is headed straght towards me in my boat. I think "It can't touch me...I can pass through it".
Meghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN USA - Saturday, March 04, 2000 at 20:30:03 (CST)

Standing in line at the center of a crowded restaurant in front of a table raised on a platform/stage and waiting to talk to him. He is seated at the head of the table, finished with his meal and alone. There is short dark-haired girl in front of me with a white postcard similar to the one I am holding. It is my turn and I sit on his left side in a chair at the table and ask him out for coffee sometime. He takes the foil from my cigarette pack and writes his phone number on the paper-side. It is a St. Paul area code of 651. He says ok...just to talk...I repeat his reply, feeling put off...just to talk. He says that he just wants to relax and have fun. He sits behind me and pushes my cheeks in fish-face fashion and does the same to himself. He is now on the other side of the waist-high dining table and he leans over, as do I, as we meet in the across the middle and kiss.
Meghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN USA - Tuesday, February 29, 2000 at 18:11:22 (CST)

A bat was flying around outside of my window. It really wanted to get in. It then flew through the window, without breaking it, perhaps it was a ghost bat. It bit off my thumb. As my friend Peter says "I'm glad I don't see a shrink who analyzes dreams, or I'd be locked up right now".
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN USSR - Sunday, February 27, 2000 at 21:23:21 (CST)

I was driving a blue car. Older like a '67 car. Drove to a house located at a crossroads/intersection. Only one house on one corner. Cars parked outside. I enter the house. I am greeted by all my dead relatives. We share hugs and laughter and surprise. Grandmother asks what i am doing here. I say I want to stay with them. She says "You can't stay here because it's not your time". Leaving the house was the hardest thing i ever did. Then i woke up.
Miche <flectonbigsky@hotmail.com>
Canada - Wednesday, February 23, 2000 at 10:34:15 (CST)

MY dream began with myself and two other guys trying to fly the thing inside a Grandfather clock you know the thing that ticks back and forth well anyway, a plane was taking us up and dropping up but we could never get the thing to fly then i say "Just remember how Einstein did it" then the dream cut to Einstein ticking back and forth inside a Grandfather Clock then i woke.
Charles <gonk@home.com>
GA USA - Monday, February 21, 2000 at 00:54:45 (CST)

i can only remember one thing about the dream: Roxane. And not the Police song either, the wife of Alexander the Great.
david <dhbilton>
ont Canada - Sunday, February 20, 2000 at 00:33:37 (CST)

Captain Hook sliced Grimmace's big purple belly open with one clean swing. It made Ronald McDonald cry and it made me pee myself. I was eight.
Tom <elko0003@tc.umn.edu>
MN usa - Friday, February 18, 2000 at 14:48:26 (CST)

On the road...run into a filthy-looking little dirty boy who is being taken by a police officer to the impound lot. The boy mistook the male cop for a woman and addressed him as "ma'am". So the cop took the dirty boy's collection of beat up rusty Broncos & Blazers, with words spray painted on them like Venus and Mercury.
Meghan <meghan146@hotmail.com>
MN USA - Monday, January 31, 2000 at 16:56:44 (CST)

it's extremely rare that i remember my dreams so i'll just add a wish... another RRM album.
dez
- Thursday, January 27, 2000 at 23:46:47 (CST)

Vere are you Mouunt Everesst? I have been there far too many times, with Sweety Pie playing. Those days are behind me now, but the memories are still in the front.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN USA - Wednesday, January 26, 2000 at 12:32:59 (CST)

i actually don't have a dream right now because i've been sleeping badly the last few nights and i didn't get on here early in the morning the other day like i should have so that i could record for posterity the details of my first sex dream but i wanted to very quickly bitch at the guy who has not one not two not even three but four copies of his fairly long dream that are clogging up the airways so to speak. c'mon tristan i mean you've got the sexiest name imaginable but did you have to make it so frickin' hard to get down to the nitty gritty of the unusual dreams page? you're interfering with the one enjoyable part of my existance that doesn't involve alcohol and nitrus. and i'm beginning to feel like i need some of the above right about now...
maria <delzoppo@msu.edu>
MI the land of the free - Tuesday, January 25, 2000 at 17:47:50 (CST)

a little tooki tooki goin to-it to him looki' on a little little tooki goin' to him it's a not digga not nae he weduh like he'll get me mema run to-it they had to is then he put sutthin to it takun a jo to-it that's nobody to-it I mean pawdi di get to-it she got got got glasses she could look to-it to get something to in to-it to a to a got in to-it to a duck to-it
aram <cccp@ussr.gov>
Robatya - Monday, January 24, 2000 at 19:49:22 (CST)

Was riding in a car on the highway. An album from the early seventies was being played on the radio. It was mellow,warm tones. The cover of the album was oversaturated fireplace/basement colors like red and and brown. Faded colors. The song was about the soul dying and meeting the Lord, sung in first person as kind of a rhode-sy r&b number. There was one other car on the highway. It had a forty foot tall puppet coming out of it. The puppet was singing the song and showing all the facial expressions that went along with the song. I realized that I was dreaming but was able to coninue dreaming with my eyes wide open.
tony <tonymog@hotmail.com>
mn usa - Monday, January 24, 2000 at 11:36:21 (CST)

My house no longer had any furniture. I also had no legs. I had taken all of the vent covers off so I could get up and down stairs via a rope that hung in the ducts. Everyone came over to the house and no one even noticed my legs were gone. Everything was completely normal to them. I also had a television that was sitting in the fireplace. Lisa sat and watched the book review channel. I think she was watching the reviewer act out a scene from the Charles Lindberg biography. The only other channel we recieved was one that showed you how to build your own computer.
bill <bill@kingwho.com>
mn usa - Monday, January 17, 2000 at 20:28:37 (CST)

A friend and I have been driving north for hours. We are tired and pull off at an old shabby road side motel, I know this place. Everything is paved,right up to the woods, except for an oval area of grass in front of the main building. We check in and are shown our room. When the door opens, we see an elderly couple sleeping on our beds and wonder how this arrangement will work. I step back outside and see Brian Tighe from The Hangups and my father, on riding lawn mowers, cutting the grass in crazy random patterns. I stand watching. Brian stops the mower and approaches me, he excitedly announces that in the spring he will be going to the Barbary Coast. I have an immediate feeling of doom and ask him if he knows anything about this place. I'm looking into his eyes and they are cold. I decide to lay on my side in the freshly cut grass, looking up, I tell him not to go, if he does he will surely die, I know this. I'm looking into his eyes trying to read him, he is so distant,and doesn't want me to crush his excitement. I run back to the motel room and splash water on my face, the thought of his death is too much. Steve Ittner (also from The Hangups) walks by with my friend and tells me that that the dough is ready for kneading. I walk back outside, they are still mowing crazily. I implore everyone to leave this place and ask them to continue driving with me to the northshore. I wake up crying.
Tristan <keter369@hotmail.com>
mn usa - Thursday, January 13, 2000 at 11:16:03 (CST)

I was in my friend's basement/my band's practice space, which for some reason was in Austin, MN, aka Spamtown USA. There were all these little kids playing chess there. They didn't actually know how to play, but just moved the pieces around and said "CHECK MATE!" each time. They were getting pretty fierce, and I was expecting them to start throwing the pieces at each other but they never did. They were all wearing these big purple glowing rings. I think that came from "Pimps Up, Ho's Down", which I was watching before bed. Actually the whole dream maybe came from the White Russians I had before bed. My friend John called me and I told him this dream, thereby remembering it. He told me he had coffee ring stains on his chest, and was going to the doctor. It turned out to be a fungus. I think that was actually more unusual than the dream.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN - Monday, January 10, 2000 at 17:48:45 (CST)

Red Red Meat were about to play a show at my school, and for some reason I wanted to take pictures (I'm not the kind of person who brings cameras to shows - but I suppose this was such a grand occasion that I simply had to have one); I ran around trying to find some film, and then the school turned into Jewel Osco. Some army guys ransacked the store and I hid behind the make- up counter. I then made a break for it and leapt into the air, hurdling pyramids of paper towel rolls, just wanting to get to the show. I arrived during soundcheck and then woke up, so I never got to see the show. I always have horrific nightmares about missing or arriving late to shows, but this one (kind of) turned into reality when I missed Red Red Meat last week because it WASN"T ALL AGES!
Sara Stone <MommaCooley@Bangkok.com>
IL USA - Monday, January 10, 2000 at 13:30:05 (CST)

2. we rob a bank and run with a white garbage bag full of money. we go into an unfurnished apartment in ravenswood and i hide everyone and the money in an empty bedroom and shut the door. the police come in and i cant remember what i say but they leave without looking in the bedroom and say that they are coming back soon. i go into the bedroom and everyone is rolling around in the money and ther are about a dozen mexican kids singing and laughing. there are streamers and confetti and we are all bathing in cash and laughing. i leave the bedroom to check on the cops and poke my head outside. i'm in addison and there's a war going on. i dodge cannonfire and bombs and bullets and jump on a honda 3-wheeled all terrain vehicle and swerve across suburban lawns trying to find an open garage door and a gas can.
addison
IL - Wednesday, December 15, 1999 at 14:19:37 (CST)

1. i see Candy in the wet scrubby woods near salt creek and lake street. brown water and faint smell of car exhaust drying my throat. drawn into her i pull up her sleeve and put my hand around her wrist i think about her legs and her back and her skin and her scars and remember how bad i loved her. i hold her close , she grabs my face and smiles, i bury my face in her hair and breathe, she grabs my hand and we start walking. -we're going home-, she says. we come to a suburban house and go upstairs into a bedroom and there is a dark huge man in a wheelchair with a brace holding his head up drooling covered in piss and shit with severe cerebral palsy, straining to say anything, face twitching into a quick smile and rolling his teary eyes whacking himself in the face everytime he tries to lift his arm. i'm standing in the doorway staring trying not to breathe through my nose and not knowing what to say. candy says -i'll be right back-. before i can ask a question she's gone. everything in the room is brown plaid and off-white, crusty and wet. he is struggling to look at me. i'm trying to read his expressions but they come and go in constant flailing waves; embarassed to angry to smile to sad and broken ,intelligent cynical to dumb vegitation. i feel like he has a working functioning brain and is aware of everything. i untie his shoes and pull off his wet pants and shorts. i unbutton his shirt and walk down the hall into the bathroom and fill the tub with warm water. wheel him into the bathroom. he's grunting and i'm already feeling his weight as i'm pushing the chair. he's at least twice my size .i see his scalp through his greasy black hair and see the sweat on the back of his neck and sloping shoulders dripping down the back of the wheelchair. the tub is low, thank god, and built into the blue and white tile. i pull his feet over the ledge and into the water and nudge the rest of him inch by inch to the edge of the chair until a huge loping spasm like a sledgehammer wails upon him and throws him with his bones knocking and flesh slapping against the cold bathroom floor . low moans, with his feet still in the water. i lock my arms under his and lift with my legs. up onto the ledge and push him over into the water. his head cracking against the tile wall .splashing with his hands he seems to be getting bigger every minute and i'm sweating and soaked. i take a rag and start to wash him. he groans and spits. i look into his face and i know he wants to say something. i avoid his eyes and go back to my work. there's a stirring downstairs and i go towards it. a middle aged couple walk in. the man turns on a huge tv in the middle of the front room and the woman turns on a tv in the kitchen. -are you candy's family?- i ask the man. -well no ..yes..- he says. i go into the kitchen and the woman is nodding into the phone -hmm-. i approach her slow like i dont want to scare her away -hi , i was waiting for candy, is she coming back soon?- she looks at me and smiles and pours me a bowl of cheerios and milk and puts it on the table. she puts her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and says -thank you-. and goes back to the phone nodding and humming. i watch the cereal get soggy and say to her loudly -Are you candy's family, when is she coming back cuz i really have to leave,,?- she says -we're her inlaws go talk to bob upstairs.- . - Who's bob? - she ignore's me....-Who's bob?-i repeat. -Bob's upstairs, our son bob...candy's husband bob, you know...go upstairs, you need to watch him , it's his cereal time...thank's honey.-

IL - Wednesday, December 15, 1999 at 14:07:13 (CST)

It started one day when i was listening to Fleetwood Mac's "The Dance." All of a sudden i realized that i needed a Rhiannon in my life. Then i remembered that i did. Although her name is spelled Rheannon, it's the same thing. So i went up to Rheannon and told her how much i liked her and we lived happily ever after.

- Friday, December 10, 1999 at 09:36:05 (CST)

ok here's the deal. i was somewhere that i've never been before. this happens to me all the time after i've been out of town for a while. in a way it's creepy but in another way it's nice to not be constantly dreaming about the inside of my house or some other familiar place. i was with my uncle ben and my brother nick and keith. if you know who these people are then you probably know me, so hi! anyway, we were eating some of my uncle ben's delicious turkey soup and drinking bell's oberon ale which was strange because i usually don't like bell's beer 'cause it's too dark. then keith and my brother went to chinatown to see the clash play, but nick wouldn't let me come 'cause i was too drunk, so ben and i called my aunt mary and begged her to come get us. i didn't want to go home so i asked to be dropped off at jim's place where i proceeded to run out into the middle of nowhere. i laid down in the middle of a field and watched a sky full of stars spin like a gravitron above me. it was beautiful, but also a frighening indication that i may have a serious drinking problem. i've never dreamt that i was drunk before. it must be the corrupting influence of the perishable label. just a few hours around you guys and i'm already suffering from abnormal behavior...and that's what happened.
miss maria <broncos_girl@hotmail.com>
MI us of a - Wednesday, December 01, 1999 at 16:51:37 (CST)

I don't remeber all the specifics, but I must say it was strange. The main reason it was strange is the characters that were in the dream. Though I have never personaly met any of the Perishable folks I have had a number of stories relayed to me by Scott Taylor. So anyway back to the point. I was laying down to go to sleep last night, and sortly before that I had had a Reiki session done on me so I was very relaxed. I put my copy of Bunny Gets Paid on the turn table, picked up my book of short stories by Franz Kafka and settled down for the night. Shortly thereafter I drifted off, and found my self strolling along the mighty Mississippi River. It turns out that I was a homeless child. I was not misserable, however, just without an abode. I sat down by this tree that I visit from time to time after husling up enough change to by myself a quart of beer. This is were it gets strange, Tim Loftus, Tim Rutili and Ben Massarella come up to me and ask for a swill of my beer. Though I've never seen these people in real life I know it was them because I was calling them by their last names. I said sure and passed my quart around. That's it. That's all I remember. I know it very anticlimatic, but I just found it odd that several people I've never met found their way into my dream. I think Perishable has some kind of mind control machine to transmit dreams into peoples heads to help sell their records. Think about it, that's free advertising straight into the synapsis.
Mike <mbniceguy@yahoo.com>
TN USA - Wednesday, November 24, 1999 at 10:45:33 (CST)

in the forest the air is rich and pungent. smells of cold moss and moist decay. mist coats the void . filling the spaces between ferns and trees. my limbs are heavy with slow and tingling motion. i am crawling. the earth gives slightly beneath my knees and fingers. a sponge releasing ice to the warmth of my skin. the edge of a lake parts the mist before me. dark reeds curve towards its glistening surface. i lay on the bank. stretching my arm out. sinking the tips of my fingers beneath its surface. it pools in my palm. heavy warmth. sliding over my fingers in jerky rapid motion. mercury. i push off from the edge. a sharp sensation of falling wakes me up.
<alyzarin@angelfire.com>
il - Saturday, November 13, 1999 at 16:03:31 (CST)

real-there was this guy in school that i hated alot cause he wore lether vests and pulled his pants up real high and had a pony tail, and when my friends dorm room cought fire he made fun of them, so i hated him.DREAM i was in my bunk starting to sleep and not knowing that im dreaming i look over to the other bunk where my roomate usually is. to my suprise its the guy i hate looking right at me mean. so i jump out of bead to get a closer look and sure enough it is him so i start screaming at him to leave and choking him and i look over to the other bunk to see my other roomates reaction and he is there also there are too of him! so i freak out screaming curses and run to the light switch and after i turn it on i realize that i was just half asleep and that i really did all this choking and screaming but to my roomates who were at this point lying as still as they could with the covers over their heads scared out of their minds not saying anything! so i gently flicked the light swich off and tip toed into the other room and sat down. i thought that they would be mad but now they just do what i say damit!
marc manning <lights7@earthlink.net>
pa usa - Saturday, November 13, 1999 at 08:42:50 (CST)

so i dream about music a lot--"scores" especially. not film scores, but i'll be in a thrift store pawing through records and there will be a series of very rare who records that actually turn out to be an unreleased set of acetates, something like that. infinitely boring stuff. but the other night i dreamt about performing in front of a group of people dressed up like halloween. i was dj'ing, but somehow i was able to will the different records to mutate into each other, so that if i played two artists at once it would be like they were making a new song together. i also dreamt that i was on a stage with 6 or 7 old turntables; i hooked up a bunch of old sturdy school-type record players together--the kind that have output jacks in 'em--and i kept wanting them all to play at the same time, but it didn't work. then there was a girl dressed like cat woman and we had sex. then she turned into a pig-woman, like something out of the movie, "if," and i woke up wishing that was something i'd never dreamt, and hoping the image would leave me very soon. it hasn't. http://members.localnet.com/~ivan/1420k.JPG
mickey mac <mikem@amazon.com>
wa etail - Wednesday, November 03, 1999 at 20:48:40 (CST)

anyone watched "big lebowski"?i saw the guy named"jesus" in that movie.he was a kung fu fighter and me and my boss wanted to go to his house and steal his very important condom collection.we open his castle's door somehow and enter inside.we are sure he s away cos we sent him somewhere i cant remember how and where.well..but we didnt know he had a dog.my boss was ready for everything.he gave the dog some meat that made the dog sleep.we found the condom collection so we were ready to leave...but than that jesus guy enters to the castle and we accidently meet at the door.he s wearing all pink!he starts doing some kungfu but my boss tells him to stop cos we have his wife in our hands(!!?)so he has to make a desicion..his condoms or his wife...w big desicion i reckon... that s all...the alarm clock woke me up..
pillow <marslanding@hotmail.com>
uk - Tuesday, November 02, 1999 at 13:44:31 (CST)

I had some absinthe the other night and then dreamed a lot when I went to bed. I dreamed I was with the ghost of my dad, who was young. (my dad's not dead though). We were sitting on the porch of my Grandma's house, which has been moved, since it's in a flood-plain. We were eating green peppers.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN USA - Monday, November 01, 1999 at 13:57:38 (CST)

in my dream: i wake up -- it's early morning, and i'm still in my weird 2rd floor apartment on 14th street over the taco place run by these really sweet koreans -- and go to the bathroom to pee. it's day light already but the bathroom's still pretty dark (no window). it's a great piss, almost one for the record books. after i finish up, i go to the sink to wash my hands and splash some water on my sleepy face. brushing my hair back with my hands, i look up into the mirror, squinting... and notice over night i seem to have grown a really sexy monobrow, even better than little eddie munster's. "cool!" i say to myself. i wake up laughing.
ld beghtol <beata_virgo@usa.net>
ny usa - Monday, October 25, 1999 at 12:13:28 (CDT)

There is a very big lady (amazon big) in a bikini standing in the ocean where the waves come crashing in. Very big swelling waves. I am clung to this lady with my arms around her neck and I am, in comparison to her, the size of a monkey. As the huge waves slowly swell up behind us and crash over us, Iggy Pop narrates. He is talking about how succulent the lady is and what different types of seasonings he would use to cook each part of her body. I remember him saying that for the thighs he would have to use "unseasoned salt". For another part of the body I remember him saying that he would use "borsht" as a seasoning.
tony mogelson <tonymog@hotmail.com>
MN USA - Monday, October 25, 1999 at 11:10:43 (CDT)

I was living in a small city in Israel. One day Jefferson Airplane shows up to play a show, but they needed a location indoors (because of the sand and all) to tape an interview to hype this very special show. I offered my parents house, where I was living, and had to spend the rest of the dream trying to explain to my parents that Jefferson Airplane aren't "druggies" anymore. But I was worried Grace was going to dose 'em. Don't even like Jefferson Airplane..I woke up because I thought a spider was crawling on me.
Brian <brifos138@hotmail.com>
CT - Monday, October 18, 1999 at 09:56:22 (CDT)

I had a dream that Phil avoided me and didn't return any e-mails after oRSo came and played in Phoenix. Mayhaps I weird him out.
travis bursik <bursik@hotmail.com>
mo - Tuesday, October 12, 1999 at 19:45:14 (CDT)

i laid down to take a nap this afternoon and almost immediately i descended in to that stage where you're still awake enough to be able to hear the joni mitchell on your stereo but asleep enough to be having lucid dreams. i dreamt that people were climbing the stairs to my attic bedroom. one at a time and each with something to say. my roommate jess came first. "you have visitors maria. it's sam and chris" she said. "tell them i'm asleep" i pleaded incoherently. "not a chance, sunshine" she heartlessly responded. "i'm tired of lying for you. you're going to have to face the consequences of your drunken antics for once." she left me lying there, unable to get up or otherwise move. instead of sam and chris, my dad and his girlfriend materialized. "you've got to change your evil ways, maria" gail said. "or else your dad's going to stop loving you more than me." i finally gathered the strength to get up with the intent of beating the shit out of her, but she was gone. my dad walked up to me and enveloped me in a crushing hug. "i know you're going to get into law school honey" he said. "and i'll help you out in any way i can". then he was gone and sam was standing there asking me why i didn't love him anymore, and chris was looking at my cd's and yelling at me for not having "paul's boutiqe" and "london calling" and i started crying and i screamed that i did have them, but i had loaned them to mark and he hadn't given them back yet. then sam said "forget you maria. i'm going over to megan's place. she'll do the riverdance for me". i started to chase after him, and i got to the top of my stairs and grabbed his arm to pull him back and then i remembered that i didn't love him anymore, and that i didn't really give a damn whether or not he went over to megan's, and that was when my alarm went off and i struggled to the surface. i was so incoherent that i had to check and make sure that my CD's were on the shelf and not over at mark's. all that therapy for the price of a half hour nap!
miss maria del zoppo <broncos_girl@hotmail.com>
mi us of a - Monday, October 11, 1999 at 22:09:57 (CDT)

it is night and i am arriving in a city i do not recognize. through the windows of the bus glowing neon reflects off the edge of buildings that speed past. the even glint of light is like the undulating reflection in the rotating blades of a metal fan. each angle passes the smooth glow on to the next. i step off the bus disoriented but calm. an urge to explore drives me into the darkness. i stop to look down an alley. mist passes my face and lingers in the ice-cold air like white vapor from warm lips. i need to find a safe place to sleep. at a phone booth near a stone wall i dial unconsciously. "i am here", i say into the receiver. a soft voice offers to come get me. "no. if you tell me how to get there i will come.", i reply. as she begins talking i lose interest and walk away. i come to the edge of a park. stone paths and ornamental plants give the overwhelming impression of geometric order. like an overgrown japanese garden. down one of these paths men and women in long white robes are eating at several tables. their faces are ethereal and angular. smooth glowing skin and dark hair. unseen by them i walk through their midst, over to a large map board. it is something that you might find in museums or shopping malls, giving arial views of large multi-leveled floor plans. i realize that this is a zoo. like the one in lincoln park, but with café tables near the cages. i walk towards movement on the large flat ledge of a raised cement pool. monkeys. with thick white hair that covers their bodies at an even length. like the fluff on a child's toy. the only visible flesh is a mask-like area around the eyes. slanted black soulless orbs nestled in soft folds of skin. these creatures seem more machine than nervous tissue. they are moving like penguins, swarming on the bank and leaping into the water. they are silent. i observe them with detached fascination. a little girl leaps abruptly into the pool. she is laughing and splashing. swimming after a monkey. i am terrified that i will see blood in the water. a man jumps in to grab the child. she screams and screams. i wake up
<alyzarin@angelfire.com>
il - Sunday, October 10, 1999 at 00:33:07 (CDT)

I met Archer Prewitt, only he was a cartoon. He was wearing a Sof' Boy shirt. I love that comic.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
Minneapolis USA - Wednesday, September 22, 1999 at 15:46:27 (CDT)

real: my rex-'waltz' disc doesnt play due to deep scratches. dream:phil was selling rex discs for $2 out of an alley.
shim-sham
- Saturday, September 18, 1999 at 20:18:50 (CDT)

real: my rex-'waltz' disc doesnt play due to deep scratches. dream:phil was selling rex discs for $2 out of an alley.
shim-sham
- Saturday, September 18, 1999 at 20:17:34 (CDT)

I was sitting on a dock with two others. We looked down into the water and saw two tigers staring up at us. They looked all bluish and blurry from the water distorting them. It was obvious that they were preparing to pounce on us, so I grabbed my friend's gun. One of the water-tigers lept onto the dock and started biting us, so I shot him right in the tuchis. Then we got away. phew!
gr ma
- Wednesday, September 15, 1999 at 13:50:08 (CDT)

Along the shore. Gray whale beaches itself. Jettisons up on the beach. We all try pushing it back in. Swim around in the shallows. Churning anxiety waves. Later . . . having dinner with the whale across a banquet table. At my right is Keith Richards. Both Keith and I believe whale sitting across from us is God. We don't think he's a force or nothing progressively termed. He's the old testament creator. He has a name tag that simply says "God." Keith, however, is upset about his life. "What's I done lately," etc. I tell Keith that everything would have been justified if he'd just done Exile on Main St. He's relieved by that. We eat and talk. A victorious dream. Chatting with a God-whale that purposely beached itself to have dinner with me and Keith.
Lee Klein <eudemon37@yahoo.com>
NJ - Monday, September 13, 1999 at 15:47:48 (CDT)

Keith Richards and Mick Jagger were over for a visit. They brought along their 8-Track tape collection, and were proudly showing it off. It was mostly blues and r&b, "race records", and they vere very impressed with themselves: "Look at this one...nice artwork on that...ooh, this one's rare...". While they boasted, I heard a scratching from my bathroom. I walked over to investigate and found Muddy Waters cleaning out the litter box, sifting cat shit through a sieve, all the while muttering to himself: "Damn fools don't know nuthin' 'bout the blues..."
Jeff Economy <economy@ripco.com>
IL USofA - Tuesday, September 07, 1999 at 13:06:11 (CDT)

i forget one thing..after the olive oil the fat lady dumped 2 pitchers of red wine over the baby's head while he kept on gnawing on the octopus..
vito p
- Tuesday, September 07, 1999 at 11:13:06 (CDT)

I have a recurring dream (about once a week) about being in a massive storm which generates hundreds of powerful tornadoes. As I cower in my basement, waiting for death, I start speaking to the tornadoes as they roar by. "Why do you do this?" I ask. "We can't help being destructive, it's what we were made to do," they reply. But since I can talk to them, they agree to avoid my house and lay waste to all around me.
Carrie <carrie@emptybottle.com>
no. - Friday, September 03, 1999 at 16:35:03 (CDT)

in a wet green overgrown garden,it smells like basil and moist vagina. i am tied to a wooden chair. legs and arms. an obese red headed woman kneels in front of me and starts massaging my crotch. i cannot get an erection and feel an overwhelming repulsion. she says something in a language that i cannot understand (sounds like backwards latin).she gets up and walks to a large metal tub containing a nude baby. on a table next to the tub are 3 large metal pitchers. the first pitcher contains a purple/grey dead octopus and dirty salt water. she pours it over the baby's head. the second pitcher contains olive oil. she pours it over the baby's head. the baby starts gnawing on one of the octopus tentacles. the third pitcher is filled with water and skinned tomatos. she pours it over the baby's head as he continues to teethe on the dead octopus.i find a thick knot in the rag binding ny hand and dig at it until it loosens. the woman runs up to me screaming. my head feels like a cement weight and i try to move it so i can wake up. she starts to undo my pants. i use all my strength to jerk my head foreward and wake up.
vito positano <ta_z28@earthlink.com>
il usa - Monday, August 30, 1999 at 16:28:07 (CDT)

I was sitting in this field, looked up in the sky, and saw the face of my friend John in the clouds. He nodded his head, it was alot like at the end of "Love Me Tender", with Elvis singing. John just moved to Chicago, so it all comes together you see.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MinMinnehappenin'olis, MN USA - Saturday, August 28, 1999 at 16:44:57 (CDT)

All my dreams take place in some weird post apocolyptic world. There was a plane crash or something and Casey Rice was on board and his super customized laptop was on board. The laptop was damaged in the plane crash but Rice was not and I helped him find all the special pieces of circuitry that had flown all over the rug. One of the pieces i found was a special diode that lit up the inside of the laptop. It was a totally cool laptop and since Casey was so grateful for me helping he actually said something nice for a change.
Jolly the Clown
IL US of goddamn A - Friday, August 20, 1999 at 12:32:41 (CDT)

Dreamt that I was watching a Roy Harper performance at a "Hippie Festival" in Israel. One of the guys in the band was playing an instrument made out of an industrial vacuum. Here is how it worked: The industrial vacuum has a chamber of heated water. A plastic lid is supposed to fit on top of it. In order to make sounds come out of the vacuum, the guy places the lid on incorrectly. This causes the vacuum to make a constant and loud "air organ/slurp" sound. He then controls the timbre and volume of the sound with a couple of hand controls that feed into the vacuum via clear plastic tubes. I think that he regulates the vacuum's pressure with the hand controls and changes the sound by making different shapes with his hand on the controller (like how when you are playing a jaw harp, you change the sound by changing the shape of your mouth.
tony mogelson <tony.mogelson@reliastar.com>
mn usa - Thursday, August 19, 1999 at 11:26:44 (CDT)

One day I was minding my own business working at my uncle’s office when I decided to go outside and see what there was to see. When I got outside I started running into friends that I hadn’t seen in a while. First it was Brad Snyder, who was driving around in his car. Then I saw my good buddy Jake Cole, who I hadn’t seen in over six months. Jake was a lifeguard at the beach and was on his way to the Shell station to get some Gatorade. He said the people who run the concession stands at the beach usually give them a bottle or two every couple of hours but they were already over an hour late. Jake bought the Gatorade and we walked to the beach. When we got to the beach, I noticed that the weather was very different from the weather at the office. When I left the office, it was about 68 degrees and overcast. When we got to the beach it was about 95 degrees and there was not a cloud in the sky. I was painfully aware that the long pants and shirt I was wearing were not the best things for the weather so I had to change into a bathing suit. That drove all the girls crazy, I swear to god. There were all kinds of high quality freshman beer sluts at the beach too (Technically they would now be sophomore beer sluts but the original term is a little more catchy). I wanted to go get a 6 pack and bring abut four of them home with me, but, Jake had other ideas and the next thing I noticed we were back at the office. The first thing Jake did was open the fridge and grab my lunch from Scumaci’s. He was halfway done with it before I realized what he was doing and took it back. We spent the next half-hour flipping through the channels and we saw a commercial for a 6-hour fuck-a-thon that was about to start on Pay-Per-View. Some girl was gonna do as many men as she could in six hours and go for the record which was currently held by some chick who did 356 guys in that time period. Jake told me of a big party that was going on that night and thought I might like to go with him. I hadn’t been to a party in a while, so I accepted the invitation without giving it much thought. Jake asked me if he could crash at my place that night and I said that would be fine. I don’t know why I said he could spend the night, when I didn’t even know were I was spending the night. Jake went to use the phone and that was the last I saw of him. W hen I got to the party I was surprised at how cool and weird the location was. The main platform was up about 20 feet off the ground and it was a pretty big floor. There were only three walls and they were in the back and on the two sides. The open space were there would have normally been a wall, overlooked a giant, Olympic sized pool. That was the first floor. The only solid ground on the first floor was a little five-foot ledge that went around three sides of the pool, and two staircases that rose up to the main platform. There was no ledge around the side of the pool that was closest to the open edge of the main platform. So if you fell you didn’t have to worry about hitting the ground. There were hallways that ended up in the poolroom and originated from an area with a bar (That served minors) and from a lounge were you could light up all the ganja that you wanted. There were so many people in the smoking lounge that even if you didn’t have any smoke you would catch one hell of a contact if you even stayed in there for a while. It was in the lounge that I ran into Phil Spirito. After I left the bar, were I drank a few Yachtsmen's, and the lounge I was feeling like socializing so I decided to go up to the platform and find myself a delicious 30 to 40 year old. I don’t exactly know how I did it but I somehow managed to find myself a delicious 20 to 30 year old which is just as good. We were just kinda lying on this gigantic waterbed that lined the entire free side of the room (Which opened up to the pool below) when I realized that she had a boyfriend. He was on the other side of her and he didn’t know that I was even in the picture. I’m not the most sympathetic person you’ll meet, and my opinion was that it’s not my problem if his girlfriend doesn’t want to be with him. If it wasn’t me it would have been the next guy so it might as well be me. All of a sudden people started talking in a hushed whisper. The woman who was in the six hour fuck-a-thon had walked into the room and was getting a lot of attention. She didn’t break the world record but she came very close. With a little more practice and dedication she could shatter that world record in two months time. She was down with practicing with anyone who wanted and she was having a little session in the master bedroom. She asked me if I was interested and I respectfully declined. There is just so much skankiness that a man can put up with. I went to go get another Yachtsman and when I came back I realized that there was some construction being done on the stairs and that it was being done by no other than Tim Hurley, Brian Deck and John Deck. At the time Brian was yelling at Tim and John because they had somehow screwed up a piece of the stairway and now he would have to do a very difficult and dangerous maneuver to try to make up for it. Brian went running up the makeshift stairs and slammed a board against another board and for a second it stuck. The next second however saw Brian fall 20 feet and land with a thud on the concrete ledge on the side of the pool. He got up right away though, angry but unhurt. When I got back up to the waterbed I found my newfound friend waiting for me. We laid next to each other for a while until it became apparent that the night was winding down. She leaned over and we started making out. Her boyfriend realized what was happening and he was none to pleased. He started to blow in my face and make me stop. It didn’t work very well and he left for a while. He came back a little later and this time had a different approach to the situation. He unzipped his fly and began to piss all over us. Mostly on me. I got up in a hurry to kick the living shit out him but I was too late because he had taken a step backward and had jumped to freedom in the water. Or so he thought. It took me maybe a second and a half to decide that no one is going to piss on me and get away with it. Besides, I was already drenched with piss so I might as well try to wash some of it off. I jumped into the pool after this guy and landed almost on top of him. When I finally got a hold of him I started to thrash him to no end. By this time his friends had realized what had happened and they had jumped in on his side. When Brian, Tim and John saw what was going on they jumped into the pool to and helped me out. Even Phil put down his pipe said “ Ma ma” and jumped in the pool. Needless to say we won convincingly. The only real problem was this kooky lady who walked around the pool with a bucket full of chemicals and was trying to throw it in our eyes. I finally had to take the chemicals away from her and make sure she wouldn’t cause any more problems. Someone had called the cops and they were on their way. When we got out of the pool we dried off in like three minutes and were there when the cops arrived. Some people identified me as the ringleader in the fight, and although Phil tried to tell the cops it was the other guy…… well you know how cops are. The Police gave me a free ride home and when I got there Ben answered the door and told the cops that he would punish me very, very severely and that he was grateful to the cops for bringing his juvenile delinquent nephew home. I walked into the house (Ben must have done some remodeling because it looked nothing like I remembered), got myself a big bowl of chocolate chip ice cream and sat down on the couch. Ben was complaining because he had lost his glasses. He told me to tell him everything that happened but I just wanted to sleep. He kept saying: wake up, get up, wake up. And that’s when I did.
Nick Del Zoppo <del_zoppo1@Hotmail.Com>
MI United States of America - Wednesday, August 18, 1999 at 23:55:01 (CDT)

i dreamt i was eating a small bowl of sticky rice and drinking a large glass of milk. the doorbell rang. i accidentally answered the phone, even though it hadn't rung. "hello?" "are you gonna answer the goddamn door, or let me stand out here all friggin' day?" i dropped the phone and ran to answer the door, but noone was there.
tim walsh <tim@manintheuniverse.com>
ma usa - Monday, August 16, 1999 at 14:32:03 (CDT)

i dreamt of an instrument called the "bluesinator". basically it's a shallow wooden box you hold against your chest. it amplifies sounds coming from the chest. also, if you sing a bluesy sound into the wooden box, it "bluesinates" it, which means that it gives it an old time sound and creates a brief woodsy loop of the sound. this instrument also has little metal "plinky-plinks" that can be plucked like a thumb harp. the 'bluesinator" is the instrument of an old blues man. hold it against the heart, close your eyes, start to sway, and let the blues start pouring out.
Tony Mogelson <tony.mogelson@reliastar.com>
mn usa - Thursday, August 12, 1999 at 14:23:28 (CDT)

I dreampt that my mother and I were working with my cousin and aunt at this out door flea market. we were selling all sorts of produce and car parts. my cousin was pregnant and as we wrapped up the days work, my mother turned to my cousin and said "I'm gonna buy that baby a diamond highchair". As we leave the open air market to return home there is an immense flash of bright white light and my mother falls dead, her body dissapears. I return to my home, which is in my dream an abondoned subway station strewn with lockers, mattresses and people. As word spreads of my mother's death, people gather at the locked enterance gates to mourn. I woke up.
Stephanie <contact@newyouth.net>
OH USA - Saturday, August 07, 1999 at 13:00:26 (CDT)

I WAS DRIVING AROUND DIGGIN THE 'BLUE SUEDE SHOES' ON THE RADIO AND WAITIN FOR 'JAILHOUSE ROCK'.
MATT PATAKY <mpataky@sterling-engineering.com>
il 60622 - Friday, August 06, 1999 at 14:20:15 (CDT)

I was gambling in a nearby casino and hit it big on the slot machines. My winnings included 30 grand and a 5-gallon bucket filled with vicodin and pot!
gr ma
- Thursday, July 29, 1999 at 10:16:22 (CDT)

Me sitting, wild eyed and feverous, in a fold out chair center stage. Them, every woman that I had ever been with, surrounding me in a ritualstic circle. Pointed feminist fingers and cries of bitterness are being thrust upon me with rapid fire succession. Bewildered, confused and angry I become. I had no idea that I was such an inept partner for these women. "You are a self-centered, egotistical, manipulating, self-indulgent child!!" I hear these phrases and much more worse. I am being accosted by the ghosts of my lovers past. I begin to cry with shame, huddling in my seat. Cowering with an intense fear for my life. I close my eyes to try and ease this intense emotional torture and then I see them. Repetitive flashes of the faces of these women. Acidic swirls amidst screams and yelps. I begin to quake, sweating profusely, wanting to die. "Just go away!", I keep yelling. "Leave me alone, I am much different now!". Then she appears, a solemn angel, my first true love. She whispers to me, "It's okay, you did the best you could, we just never wanted it to end." Drenched and parched, as this nightmare subsides, I ask for a glass of water. I open my eyes, they are gone, the images have ceased. I roll over and gently kiss my lover on her naked shoulder. Crawl out of bed, walk downstairs to the kitchen, pour a glass of water, take a huge sip. Then suddenly I find myself in the living room, slipping a disc into the player. Rex's "Tortured Animal" begins to fill the air.....
Michael Willis <slo_core@yahoo.com>
NC USA - Monday, July 26, 1999 at 17:10:57 (CDT)

after i saw dianogah, i went to sleep on the couch. i had a dream that i was climbing around this tower full of mud and the shadowy men on a shadowy planet were playing live, and it was being broadcast over this p.a. i kept trying to find those fuckers.

i woke up and kids in the hall was on.
oh, static <ohstatic@aol.com>
- Monday, July 26, 1999 at 02:32:38 (CDT)

it was about a girl.large breasted. big footed. gap toothed. dirty hands. idle eyed. droopy tongued. knee knocked. she looked like she drank one too many kitty dukakis's. mop and glow on the rocks. she got in one of those mud baths and was eating all the mud. she called out my name to come closer. "i dun wanna" i said. "you're already here" she said and began clawing at her hairy muddy crotch.
T. Yachtsman
il - Thursday, July 22, 1999 at 15:45:24 (CDT)

Me and my friends John and Tom were on some big ocean liner, as part of some group, I think it was a religious type of group, but I'm not sure. We were drinking whiskey, and were informed that the ship was about to sink. I was running around looking for this girl, but I couldn't find her. Then I learned that the ship wasn't about to sink, we were just on the wrong one, and were headed for San Diego. I dreamed all this after I saw the Flaming Lips play.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN USA - Thursday, July 22, 1999 at 15:37:40 (CDT)

I dreamed that I went into a hotel room and pressed my hands aginst the bedspread. and the bedspread moved in a strange way, sort of an undulated way. I thought: is this a waterbed? then I looked to the floor and dark pools of blood were forming. the sheets were filled with blood. and I realized a murder had taken place. It was quite awful -- I can't quite describe the feeling of sickness and dread as the blood came out of the mattress. another thing: the blood was somehow dirty -- it wasn't bright red, but a murky brownish sort of color. It was aged. There was also a pornograhic magazine on the dresser in this room which I noticed on entering the room.
simone
il usa - Thursday, July 22, 1999 at 13:08:28 (CDT)

i dreamed i was in math class and we were having a math test and everyone was doing math...for this test...in math class.
ted able
il u.s.a. - Wednesday, July 21, 1999 at 13:20:38 (CDT)

i was rollerskating on wet grass in an endless park with trees and bushes and people and dogs.when i started i felt the mud squishing in the wheels and trudged along harder and faster until the pain in my thighs turned to pure strength and perfect graceful speed. the faster i went the smoother everything got. smoother and cleaner.the cold water turned to air and the mud turned to marble.i felt like god.
anita villareal <not>
at all - Tuesday, July 20, 1999 at 23:48:04 (CDT)

i was in a dwarf pub sitting at the bar and there were all these little people eating big sandwiches. italian beefs, meatball subs ...these huge sloppy sandwiches. they were licking the juices and sauces off their little stubby fingers, slurping and laughing. one of the women starting flirting with me and then one of them started getting pissed off. the next thing i know i'm underneath a pile of these little writhing bodies being pummelled by these little fists and bitten by these little mouths. the bartender, who's my size, was screaming "enough! enough! he's had enough!" and he starts picking them up and throwing them against the wall and into stools, but they just kept running back and jumping onto the pile. i must have been screaming or something because my cat woke me up with a paw to the jaw.
tim loftus <timloftus@perishablerecords.com>
ill U!S!A! - Tuesday, July 20, 1999 at 16:44:49 (CDT)

uh....... the other night i had a dream that i was sitting in my sitting room and my cat walked by. there was an earthworm wiggling out of his butt. he was going around in circles trying to see what was up. then he laid down and gave birth to a full grown, bloody chicken. feet first. oh dear.............
custus <no>
bad which? - Wednesday, July 07, 1999 at 00:13:11 (CDT)

tim loftus <timloftus@perishablerecords.com>
il usa - Monday, June 28, 1999 at 16:50:17 (CDT)

June, 1973; Through underhanded interrogation of the ape scientists and analysis of their spacecraft, Doctor Victor Hasslein uncovers the ultimate fate of the human race and the planet. He convinces the President of the United States that the ape scientists pose a threat to mankind. The ape scientists are taken to a military base for further interrogation. Abd al-Jabbar ibn Muhammad al-Hamdani on behalf of the ape scientists, stands up to Dr. Victor Hasslein.He issues this statement via his crankshaft telegraph: "One of the Jews undertook the conversion of the Khazars, who are composed of many peoples, and they were converted by him and joined his religion. This happened recently in the days of the Abbasids.... For this was a man who came single-handedly to a king of great rank and to a very spirited people, and they were converted by him without any recourse to violence and the sword. And they took upon themselves the difficult obligations enjoined by the law of the Torah, such as circumcision, the ritual ablutions, washing after a discharge of the semen, the prohibition of work on the Sabbath and during the feasts, the prohibition of eating the flesh of forbidden animals according to this religion, and so on." Well aware of the peril they're in, the ape scientists, Zira and Cornelius attempt an escape from the facility. During the escape Cornelius accidentally kills a guard. With the help of Dr. Stephanie Branton and Dr. Lewis Dixon they flee to a circus where Zira gives birth to the baby ape. Leaving the baby, named Milo, in the care of Armando the circus owner, while taking a circus chimp's child in a bizzare trade they set off to evade their pursuers.
Sluggo DragKing <sluggo@dragking.org>
IL North America - Thursday, June 24, 1999 at 11:20:34 (CDT)

: i'm with a group of people and we walk into a building out of a snowstorm. the place is a cross between wall drug and the ground round. all wood and candlelight, i am wearing horse blinders on my head and can only see in front. we walk through halls of stupid bumperstickers and old family pictures into crabby coffee shops and rooms of paneling and urinals. we come to the main dining room and as i move foreward a bigbreasted bleach blonde old fat lady dressed like she's going to the acadamy awards with her huge tits half out is walking straight at me grinning and batting her eyes. i feel myself blush and i want to turn my head away. she's like the north ave whores that stare down cars off the bridge. i cant turn away and can only go foreward. i try to smile back. as she passes me she does this magician's flourish with one of her hands. i notice the fat fingers and rings and huge red nails. she does this thing right in front of my eyes and i get a little mesmerized but i keep walking and she keeps walking. we get about 3 or 4 steps past each other and the blinders are off me and i put my hand across my ass and feel that my wallet is gone. i look behind me and the lady is smiling and now she has gold teeth and she's holding my wallet in the air. showing it to me. i turn back and the people i was with are gone.."you gotta show me how you did that, you didn't even touch me, i need a job i need to learn how to do something...how did you do that?..." i'm blathering, i thought that if i learned how to pick pockets without touching people i could go to the airport and make tons of money....so she says"you vant to?" and i say"sure" so she starts this fast walk throught the halls and it gets darker as we go deeper. there's these huge human sized puppets hanging from the ceiling dressed like circus people and gypsys. they got these creepy green glass eyes staring right at you and they're all made of unsanded wood with pointy slivery fingers. they look like they dont like what they're wearing, they look like people being punished. they're hanging in uncomfortable possitions like with the leg over the head and the butt up at the highest point. there are hundreds of them lining the ceiling . sparkly fireman clown, corseted gypsy girl, teenage boy ringmaster, a liontamer with a tangled black wig, they're all there. finally the hall opens up into this huge room and the woman faces me and starts talking complete nonsense. and i'm trying to ask questions. but she keeps changing the subject and talking about vienna and all her beautiful sick babies with the croup and just bullshit..i start to look around this big room and i see about 5 different groups of mexican women in traditional gaudy mexican tops but naked from the waist down. with big spangly sombreros and beautiful black hair with red carnations. they're lined up in formation doing thai chi like movements extra slow and in synch. it was like fake thai-chi. i watched their legs and compared their crotches as the pickpocket lady droned on and on and i noticed that they were slowly twisting their bodies into the same impossible positions as the scary puppets. it just went on and on. i said to the lady somethin like "you're not teaching me a thing." and she changed the subject again ....then i woke up and tried so hard to get back to sleep but i couldnt neither
where is foy?
usa - Thursday, June 17, 1999 at 16:05:18 (CDT)

I was in some B-movie, we were in some big house in the country, and this guy there was a killer. I think he would dress up funny and kill people with children's toys or something. There was an indoor fishing pond, and I was fishing. There was also this pastor there and his son, who I think was retarded, or was like the kid from "Mask" or something. The kid accidently dropped his fishing pole in the water, but it floated, so he got it back. The Pastor told the son to go to bed right now, and the kid did it without complaining at all. I thought to myself "the clergy shouldn't be allowed to have children, the catholics know what they're doing". I think some people ended up getting killed, but I got away. I think the killer bragged that he cut the telephone wires, stranding us all, but then I tried the telephone and it worked, so I called the Police. Then I ran outside and watched from this hill, and the police came and caught the guy in about 5 minutes, which cued me in that I was dreaming. 911 is a joke, yo.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
Minneapolis, MN USA - Wednesday, June 16, 1999 at 14:15:37 (CDT)

I was in the desert/Badlands area with some random people. We were stuck in this cement-walled shack. A sketchy guy in black came in with a gimpish assistant and they started releasing propane gas in the room. Then they counted down and blew us all to bits. Our ghosts all survived the blast. We were all spinning and chatting until our bodies regenerated and we were alive again. Phil felt bad so he bought me a bottle of booze that I didn't really want. Then I woke up wanting peanut butter cookies.
gillian lisee <furry23@hotmail.com>
il usa - Wednesday, June 16, 1999 at 12:31:06 (CDT)

- Tuesday, June 08, 1999 at 12:59:55 (CDT)

- Saturday, June 05, 1999 at 00:27:35 (CDT)

I was with this cowboy guy, in the past, presumably the old west. We were riding horses, and came to this farm, which was owned by some people who went to my parent's church (in real life), they lent us a wagon and some horses to go into town for some wedding. The head of the household didn't approve of me being with the cowboy though. He asked "Why are you following him?", and I said "I'm not sure why, but I know I have to. It's fate". We rode into the city, which had become modern day Minneapolis. We ended up stopping somewhere and the horses got loose and ran away. The cowboy ran after one, and I ran after the other, and caught it. While I was waiting at the wagon, my Dad came by, and he had this cup of ginger ale, I believe it was a Taco Bell cup. He showed me a cat inside, it was a full sized cat, and a regular sized cup. It looked normal though. I took the cup, but I couldn't let the cat out, because it was soaked with ginger ale. So I made sure it had enough air, and tried to make sure it was happy.
Adam <robotica@rocketmail.com>
MN USA - Friday, June 04, 1999 at 11:19:24 (CDT)

Two nights ago I dreamed I was on tour with Gillian and Duke and some unrelated character maybe Myles but maybe not. We had a smallish gun and Gillian and I started shooting ourselves in places that would not cause to much damage. I shot myself right above the knee and in the thigh and in the the side of my gut. Gil did her gut and thigh also. I think Duke shot himself also but it wasn't that important to the dream. We were shooting ourselves as a form of getting high. As if this was the new drug that everyone was getting off on. We were in my parents house but it didn't look like thier house. I was very concerned that Gil was getting blood all over the place. I noticed that I was also bleeding all over the place. I was also limping and favoring my wounded leg. At this turning point in the dream I relized that we had to leave in half hour and we had to load up the van. Ofcourse we had twice as much gear. I went outside and it was winter and the perigable(van) was across the lot with a huge trailer attached to it. The lot was all mud and it was an extremly gray and depressing super wintry day. The lot was just mud and slush and dirty snow. I was wearing shorts for some reason and the first thing I did was slip and fall in the mud and slush. My wounds were all dirty and caked with mud. I got in the van and realized, not only did I have a trailer but I had to back it up this skinny ramp. After many failed trys I woke up.
phil spirito <phil@onshore.com>
il 60622 - Friday, June 04, 1999 at 09:54:43 (CDT)

There was this crazy guy on the loose - don't ask me how I determined this - and it was my job, as well as an attractive female's job to catch. This was in a high building and there were change/shower rooms like high school sporadically about. I found the killer guy in one and I cut his head off with a sword. Periodically I felt bad for this and periodically his head reappered or disappeared as he followed me around. When he had a head it was scarred. Then I was in the locker room discussing it with people. The tiles were yellowy (smoke stained I think) and it was a bit misty but no showers were running. And then I woke up.
d.h. <gbilton@nexicom.net>
ont canada - Thursday, June 03, 1999 at 14:49:02 (CDT)

i was flying a fighter airplane, it was a jet. it had a lot of equipment in it. i was flying in a deep canyon and somehow i ended up not in an airplane but in the shrubbery surrounding a swimming pool. it was dark out and the scene was lit only by the neon lights of the motel. i ended up in the water and discovered actress/comedienne sandra bernhard in the water as well, who was blowing me. she managed to do this while being submerged. i was pondering this when i woke up..
alex99 <foo@bar.com>
uk - Thursday, June 03, 1999 at 12:28:13 (CDT)

) 1998-2000 perishable, ltd.