Two dreams.

Dec. 7th, 2012 10:25 am
matt_doyle: (Default)
 Hi everyone, I promise I still exist.

Anyway, two derams last night.  In the first, a friend and I were guests in a large house -- but so were a number of other people, and so we wound up having to share a bed.  There was audible noise from more than one of the other beds, indicating people having sex, and I made a joke about the music of the springs.

My friend swallowed, looked me in the eye, slipped his hand into mine, and said "Would you care to waltz, or do you prefer to tap-dance?"

Which is, I think, the smoothest, classiest proposition I have ever received.




Anyway, the second dream was a much larger narrative.  As is so often true in dreams, different casts of characters and intersections with fictional narratives came and went, so I'm going to trim my summary down to the truly relevant.

There was a large victorian house in town -- four or five stories tall, but it fit on a normal-sized lot (with very little room for yard left over); and in that house was a middle-aged women who ran a knick-knacks business of some sort.  In the course of bargaining for trinkets, she had the habit of setting a hook into the souls of her customers -- not all of her customers, but those who had known significant misery and deprivation.

She would then make over one of the rooms in her house so that it suited them perfectly.  After a couple weeks in town, she would vanish, and the interior of the house would vanish along with her -- and so would anyone she'd hooked, if she could lure them in.

Personally, I didn't qualify as sufficiently miserable, but the majority of my friends in this dream did -- at which point, facing the notion of their being hypnotized into a kidnapping where they would live forever inside this mazy house, seldom leaving their rooms and never exhibiting any emotion but a dazed, manic cheer -- yeah, then I met the qualifications, too.  i tried to bargain with the lady to let my friends free, or I'd cause trouble for her -- instead what I got (in exchange for the promise of a place in her collection), was a sort of non-interference pact.  She wouldn't kick me out of the house if I wanted to snoop around for a way to save my friends.

While snooping, accompanied by a few of my more distant pals who did NOT meet the misery qualifications, and whose main job was to pull me out of the house if I started setting up house in a spare bedroom rather than searching (this happened more than once, and it was terrifying); I discovered that the house could change shape, and that the lady hadn't created it.  She was no witch, really -- just the inmate who had been there longest, the only one who could remember a time when the house was an asylum, and before that a circus.

Something about that knowledge worried her enough to start directly kidnapping my already-snared friends, and to send thugs (some sort of goblins, who rode on flying mufflers that only worked if you were over a street) after my unaffected pals -- but she couldn't touch me.  So I was left with the knowledge that, somehow, I was close to getting what I needed -- but no notion of why or what to do next.

That's about when I woke up.
matt_doyle: (Default)
Had another vivid narrative dream last night.  I was a teenaged member of a three-man team of grifters, hustlers, and thieves living on the streets; each of us with faint magical gifts.  Our mentor, and several other street people, were murdered -- more like butchered -- and we made the determination that we should get off the streets.  Of course, we approached this like a con.  The boldest of the three of us, a blonde, green-eyed girl with a slight gift to distract, confuse, or charm people she spoke to or touched, approached what she felt was our best bet -- a theater troupe that had just come into town, augmenting their act with magic; who were very effusive in both praise and charity toward gifted street kids.  While she was insinuating herself into their good graces, I (the second-story man; an acrobat, tumbler, and catburglar with the ability to levitate small things or slightly change the weight or density of bigger things) made an accidental discovery -- this group was in fact a cabal of diabolists, bargaining for greater magical power by trading lives and souls to devils.  They were in the middle of a recruitment drive, appearing kind and charitable by day; while killing underworld authority figures by night to make the streets less safe, pushing us right into their hands.

By the time I figured this out, my friend had already bought into the rhetoric.  I and the last member of our gang -- a pickpocket with a minor gift for illusion, primarily the ability to make himself harder to notice -- managed to distract the diabolist benefactors long enough to have a frank conversation.  While she was tempted to beguile me into joining, our enchantress was outraged at the murder of our mentor, so we made a new plan instead.  She'd play their star pupil, but take on an alias to hide our association and keep her soul safe from bargains.  I, playing the reluctant, would get myself captured in the process of an impressive robbery of diabolist assets, then let myself be paroled into recruitment (likewise using an alias).  Our third member would stay unseen, conducting surveillance and carrying messages for us -- and we'd bring the group down from the inside.  I wanted security; she wanted revenge -- and there was an uncomfortably devilish glint in her eye already when she talked about getting it.

If she'd already sold her soul, it was possible she was conning me.  I went through with the burglary, unsure of whether I wanted to carry out the con or actually get away with something of value, maybe evidence or magical assets I could turn against them on my own.  Still unsure, trying to escape -- but not get away so thoroughly that they would lose my trail and give up on me before I had made my decision -- my enchantress friend subtly sabotaged my getaway.

As I was caught, I wondered -- was she doing it to preserve the plan?  Or because she wasn't really on my side?  I sweet-talked my way into a paroled recruitment, still wondering, and then woke up.

Dreams.

Oct. 27th, 2012 10:11 am
matt_doyle: (modern me)
 In the first dream I recall last night, I was living in a secret underground commune.  The social mores were very... Spider Robinson-esque.  However, in the time we were there, time seemed to be passing at a different rate on the surface, so when we tunneled back up, we found ourselves under a residential area, and the locals were very concerned and alarmed by the notion that a bunch of troglodytes might pop up under their floorboards without warning.

Not a terribly coherent dream.

Like several of my dreams, it incorporated a lot of surreal architecture, some of it familiar from previous dreams -- my high school cafeteria does, in fact, have large stairwells on either side of it, but those stairwells do not, in fact, lead down into a multi-story underground library.  However, I've had several college-centric dreams where that library has been there was well.  It doesn't use the Dewey Decimal system, either -- as you descend, the subject matter becomes more arcane and secretive and mysterious.

Also, one floor was a carbon copy of the Eagan public library, whose architecture in the real world is just strange enough that it always seemed like a magic palace of some sort to me when I was growing up.

In my second dream, I was taking weird public transit all over the Twin Cities, and kept bumping into two of my friends --on several separate occasions, on different days, in different parts of the city, suddenly there they were, on the same bus as I was.

Especially strange since, though those friends do live in the Cities, they sure as Hell don't take public transit.
matt_doyle: (Default)
In my dream, the Teen Titans (bit of a weird lineup, but all canonical Titans) were blackmailed by dimension-hopping aliens to collaborate with them in a murder and conquest scheme, or have first themselves and then their loved ones hunted by waves of killer robot drones.  There were some weird similarities to the anime Bokura No, but in the end the Titans refused the blackmail, fought the robots through cleverness, and saved the day by having Miss Martian share the blackmail scheme via telepathic broadcast with the worst and most opportunistic supervillaisn in the world -- while I do not remember the details, something about the specific evil scheme being carried out became mush less palatable and compelling if there was competition, or if you could not be sure of the identity of your blackmailer.  

World thus inoculated, the Titans, left for dead after fighting the final round of robots, interrupted the invaders as they audaciously tried to blackmail the Justice League as their plan B, revealed that we had ruined their plans, and then got to take part in a truly cathartic brawl against the dimension-hoppers.
matt_doyle: (Default)
 So due to a sudden increase in my stress levels (detailed in a locked post; for purposes of public discussion let's just note that it is eustress not distress and move on), I had positively wretched dreams last night.

First, I dreamed that due to a paperwork technicality, I had to go back and repeat my last semester of highschool at age 28.  This meant returning to my hometown and moving back in with my parents.

Also I stumbled on a secret crime conspiracy at school which half the teachers hated and half were complicit in.  Both halves thought I was on the other side.


After that dream wrapped up inconclusively with me carrying a sleeping baby on a rocky bus ride; I dreamed that Steampunk Moriarty had kidnapped hundreds of people across a dimensional barrier.  We all wound up on a world that was one giant trainyard, our track was switched wrong and jammed, and we were all going to crash.  Nobody on the train but me realized the significance and immediacy of this problem, so it was up to me and only me to evacuate hundreds of disoriented, mistrustful, stubborn people from the train with under sixty seconds to spare.

When I woke up we were maybe five seconds, ten seconds from the crash, and I had evacuated all of three people and was about to bail out myself.


My head.  Ugh.
matt_doyle: (Default)
The night after the last debate, I dreamed I DMed a game of  D & D with Megan, my sister Teresa, her boyfriend , and... Joe Biden.


Last night, I dreamed I was on Arrakis and got adopted by the Fremen. It was hardcore.  We were being hunted by the Sardaukar.
matt_doyle: (Default)
I dreamed a dark, absurdist comedy dream in which two husband-wife teams of suicide bombers, one muslim and one christian, find they're assigned to hit the same target, argue about how to do it and whether to do it, try to go home... but have not adequately disposed of all their weapons, so all four wind up on the same side in a fatal shoot-out with airport security in Tunisia.

I also dreamed about interviewing George Lucas, and the sex lives of the X-Men in the 1960s.
matt_doyle: (Default)
I had two dreams in which a friend of mine embroiled me in international crime.  In the first one, I  am pretty sure she was catwoman. As a fun hypothetical thing, she asked me how I would rob the paris opera house.  Then she used my plan to rob it... while Megan and I were at the opera, and she was supposed to be our guest. Guess who was the prime suspect?

If it were not for my mastery of parkour I would never have gotten away.

In the second dream, I woke up from the first dream.  Then, the same friend (not catwoman this time) convinced/tricked me into smuggling a hell of a lot of ecstasy pasty french customs.  French customs saw my notebook, into which I had wriotten a detailed description of this dream I had about robbing the paris opera house, got suspicious, and sicced the secret police on me, arresting me and my totally innocent brother.


I wonder if my subconscious knows something about this friend that I do not?

Dreams.

Sep. 1st, 2012 10:53 am
matt_doyle: (Default)
Last night I dreamed that:

1) a dutiful, noble spy I knew and respected had gained the power to subconsciously project his wishes, frustrations, and ambitions: the resukt being a reality-warping, half-invincible superspy with a murderous agenda.  Spider-Man, Black Widow, and I had to find a way to put him down.

2) Legolas, Meryy, Pippin, and I were questing together... in World of Warcraft.

#)  oh BALLS I remembered this dream not five minutes ago and it was really cool.  Stupid brain chemistry.
matt_doyle: (exuberance)
Dreamed I was Ed from Full Metal Alchemist, consulting on a case where someone was stealing diplomatic documents.  It took rather a lot of turns away from FMA canon, like making Kimbly the end boss badguy and Lust a sympathetic lackey who was a street urchin with bad automail and untrained alchemy skills.

Very interesting, though.  Before I started losing the details I thought there might be a story in it somewhere if I filed off the serial numbers.
matt_doyle: (Default)
In the first act, I was Luke Skywalker, and I was doing Star Warsy things with X-wings and wookiees.

In the second, I was me again, and after failing to assemble a gaming group in a timely fashion, I stumbled into a theater.  It was a production of Phantom of the Opera, but haunted.  The actor who had originated the part locally was possessing the three who had it now (one for singing, one for stunts and swordplay, one who would make dramatic appearances -- if Phantom A exited stage left, moments later he would appear in the back of the theater, stage right.

Good direction, dream.

Anyway, I tried to hide but got spotted, ran away, Megan and I climbed the backstage stairs (which were set up like one of those fire escape ladders that folds up into the balcony above it, so we had to climb the curtain to even get started), I monkeyed about in the rigging and dropped down behind the Phantom with a prop sword, held him hostage, and started getting the exposition version of how this all came to happen... and then I woke up.

matt_doyle: (Default)
 In the last three nights, I have dreamed:

-a somewhat risque dream that segued into me, Megan, and an internet acquaintance wandering around a supermarket trying to find a good vantage point to spy on the set of Star trek 2, being filmed directly outside.

-that I was Magneto, and after a run-in with a very angry Rogue, I chose the better part of valor, left New york, and went to teach at Hogwarts.  Most of this dream consisted of wandering around the Castle, which was awesome.

-that I was either a topographical map or, er, a piece of topography, and that if I didn't move my elbow, the shore batteries couldn't be placed properly to aim and fire across the channel.  this dream also contained a lot of Fire Emblem tactical jargon; but I mostly blame it on watching Hornblower and visiting the Virginia Mariner's museum.  Also the air mattress Megan and I are sleeping on is starting to deflate a bit, with the result being that we were both drawn "downhill" into the center, and just before I drifted off I nearly elbowed her in the head.
matt_doyle: (Default)
So last night I dreamed about Norse deities riding flying iceberg, my maternal grandfather hanging out with JRR Tolkien, and parts of The Hellion Prince taking place in Hobbiton.  There was a plot in which a magically caused drought was ruining the land, and in searching for the magic item that was causing it, I passed through set pieces from previous dreams (which have been recurring before):  the gloaming forest of the fey (which is even rather setting-appropriate), and a mountainous, mazy set of plateaus and ridges that I think has been a feature in dreams I forgot to record (or at least, dreams in which I forgot to record that feature).  Those plateaus always show up representing the same sort of thing -- a distant land outside the bounds of civilization.  They are Foreign Country, writ large in dream letters.  I'll try to make a note of it if they show up again. 

I've discussed before how various set pieces recur in my dreams (actually I think I've discussed it in a different post, too, but I cannot find that one), and it always fascinates me how much re-purposing my subconscious does.  Am I on a limited shooting budget or something?
matt_doyle: (Default)
My subconscious, that is.  Yesterday I had quite a pleasant time with hamburgers and board games, but my dreams were where the action was at. 

Well, one of them.  My first dream consisted of being stuck for hours in a mazelike parking garage where I could not get a clean cell phone signal nor find the ride that should have been waiting for me.  There was more to it than that, but the details are lost. 

The second dream... at first, in the second dream, I thought I was in college again, in a dormitory hall, with a weird selection of people.  Then I realized they were weird because they did not all belong to the same time -- one of them was fiddling with an old-fashioned radio set, and everyone was afraid.  Except me.

We were dead, and awaiting judgement in the underworld, and news had already gotten out that our judge was a sadistic renegade who had been given freedom to travel anywhere in heaven and hell and do as he pleased to deserving souls, a power that evidently could not now be denied him as he skipped through the afterlife rending and torturing in gruesome, poetically appropriate ways.

When we saw him, he was dressed as a clown.

And I... still wasn't afraid.  He taunted us, I taunted him back.  He assaulted my roommate, I interposed and shoved him away.  Everyone kind of stopped and stared, clown included.

Then I told him that he might have been sent here to judge us.... but I was sent here to judge him.  And I raised my hand to commence an almighty smackdown, fueled by righteous fury.

And I noticed he was smiling.

No.  Okay, I was wrong.  That wasn't hit.  He and I stepped aside, both confused, to try to work it out.  He knew, at least, why he couldn't touch me -- I had died not totally sinless, but close enough that there was no karmically appropriate punishment for me... unless I incurred it opposing him.  Trying to kick the shit out of him would count in a way that trying to pull him off his victims didn't, and he freely admitted that he'd really like to see me slip.  He didn't know what my purpose was, either, but there was one and it freaked him out.  

Then I realized.  I wasn't his judge... I was tasked with finding his judge among his victims.  Only when found would the judge be empowered, and when I picked (rightly or wrongly), I would lose my protection.  So, we chased one another through time, emerging at various points of history among the dead or the soon-to-be-dead (lots of groups with heatedly arguing politicians or soldiers mustering for battle -- lots of defendants at trials), him trying to dodge me and have a little fun, me trying to determine which of the people he wanted to butcher was in fact the fate-or-God-appointed, karmically appropriate being to understand his crimes and levy out his punishment.

It was like being thrust into a nightmare... and then given power over it.

I woke up before there was any resolution to the matter.

matt_doyle: (Default)
Also, not a famous musician, but whatever.

So as of 5:14 PM today, I'll be 28 years old and allegedly at the physical peak of my existence!  I should exercise more.

Dreamed I was Robin last night.  I had a cape that let me glide for extremely long distances, and I used it to cross a freezing-cold strait, headed for a secret research station.  Not sure why.  I did it twice, too, only I got lost the second time... and in between those times, dreamed I was living in a massive ramshackle house with a bunch of teenaged girls who kept looking up porn on my computer.  Dunno what that was about.

Goals for today:  write 3500+ words and finish the next chapter of The Hellion Prince.  Eat hamburgers.  

Birthday party is on Wednesday -- sushi and sake at my favorite sushi joint, followed by board games and other drinks at my apartment.  If you're in the Fargo-Moorhead area and want to attend (and I don't hate you), let me know!

matt_doyle: (Default)
Dreamed about the Avengers last night.  That dream I remember none of.

Then I was a female draenei warlock in World of Warcraft -- only the world around me consisted of levels from Super Mario Brothers Wii.  Anyway, I kept abandoning my team (which was not the Avengers anymore, but still included Hawkeye) to explore a haunted brothel which had another draenei warlock trapped in it somewhere.

It was a very strange dream.
matt_doyle: (Default)
... took elements of the Vlad Taltos novels, the Kushiel novels, Casablanca, Star Wars, Greek Mythology, and Veronica Mars.  A retired assassin on the run returned to his home turf (that turf was definitely Casablanca -- did my brain just mispronounce Adrilankha?) after a shipwreck and an encounter with the Angel of Death and an old man trapped on an island.  Once there, he (I) dodged both law enforcement and criminals with the help of his buddy Weevil, until he could set up an appointment with his old lieutenant.  There was now a droid (specifically a Gonkbot) in the office, which some of the people disapproved of.

About half the background parts in this dream were played by Peter Dinklage, possibly because I just read an interview where he expressed a preference for playing parts that were NOT specifically written for dwarfs.

That's more or less the only element of the dream I understand.
matt_doyle: (Default)
Dreamed I was a dimension-hopping con-man from Atlantis.  Very Odyssey-like, in that I was trying to get home, but, as in Quantum Leap or Sliders, I was unable to predict where my ability would take me next.  And, when the local customs, local currency, local language were all likely to be strange to me, the easiest thing by far was to play the helpless stranger, get a meal and a bed for a night from someone generous, and vanish in the morning.  The first and most interesting place I jumped to was probably the high-technology police state where everyone spoke as efficiently as possible:  every word was a combination of five separately pronounced letters and numbers, and they said all possible meanings (that the government approved of) were contained within these ciphers.  Only dissidents admitted that anyone over thirty had also spoken  English as a child.
matt_doyle: (Default)
Weird dreams.  At the beginning of the night, I was Robin and fighting crime with the Teen Titans.  Then, as the dream progressed, I became Indir from Madcap Archaeology, the Titans became the rest of that team, and we attempted to outmaneuver masterminds of organized crime, lead by Malcolm McDowell, who were trying to trap Vessa into an organized marriage.  I think.  Identities kept changing.  And most of the dream took place in or around massive sepulchers in a cemetery that seemed to stretch on for miles in every direction.  In any case, there was also rather a lot of sex in that portion of the dream, which I am not planning to relate in details but which was more than slightly mind-blowing.

In the third stage of the dream, I was the Doctor from Doctor Who... alternating between Tom Baker and David Tennant...  and the Master (John Simm) and I were working together, attempting to navigate a shapeshifting house in order to find where Malcolm McDowell was holding Romana prisoner.

The thing making this dream unusual was, I think, that even within the dream I could remember the shifts in narrative.  There was only a limited sense of continuity to my identity -- sometimes I remembered the previous arcs of dream as though they happened to me-as-a-different-character, and sometimes I was only dimly aware that in this story, there were many people who were very unhappy with Mr, McDowell and his extremely well-tailored white tuxedo.

Alcatraz.

Apr. 23rd, 2012 10:31 am
matt_doyle: (Default)
I dreamed I was Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds.  The BAU, along with new member Grant Imahara from Mythbusters, was investigating organized crime of some sort... a Moriarty-level supergenius who wound up hijacking an orbital satellite-based weapon and using it to facilitate mass-breakouts from San Francisco prisons.  We arrived at his next target only to find it was a trap, the staff had been compromised, and the prisoners were already loose.  Grant and Morgan pretended to be on their side, then slid me a gun, and a slow-mo bullet-time kung fu shootout occurred. 

Before I could tell if I had won or if the mob of prisoners was going to get me, I woke up.

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