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eredienI usually do not post my dreams on livejournal. However, I was rather amused by these, and they were also unusually coherent, and so thought I would share.
There are two dreams in chronological order.
-1-
The dream of last night was quite fun, before I woke up from it in a great deal of pain (but that's another story, and as I am now fine, a moot point).
First, I was running a tattoo parlor somewhere in a major city. It had a very nice clientele as a result of its location and its reputation, for it was not only a tattoo parlor, but a tattoo-design shop. The client would get several sessions with me, where I would present them with different designs based on ideas they had given me at their first consultation, so they ended up with something designed especially for them that spoke to them the way they wanted it. When the dream began, I believe that I was explaining to one of my newer clients why I didn't have any tattoos myself. I found this amusing because it is actually the explanation that I have given in real life before for why I don't have any.
And then Rush-that-Speaks came into the store, and at first I thought that maybe I had mis-scheduled some time in the appointment book, because I hadn't been expecting her for a design consultation, and rushed about rummaging through papers trying to find designs for the tattoo she'd asked for. (This I also found amusing.) But it turned out she had just dropped by to say goodbye to me for a while, because apparently the tattoo business had been so sucessful that I was going on a tropical island eco-tour for a few months.
Cut to tropical island.
Big bananna and palm trees. Nice coral reefs. ...And a short walk later through woods where red-and-blue birds flew by and odd monkeys howled, we were in the orientation hut, about thirty feet off the ground in a treehouse with a truly beautiful view of the water and the rainforest.
The park ranger was explaining to us in a beautiful accent (yes, I think accents are beautiful) all about how the island was formed millions of years ago from volcanoes erupting under the ocean, and all about how they could track the continental drift through seeing where the island had been. It was about the size and shape of New Zeland, but formed like Hawaii. (Some of geology class must have stuck. This part of the dream was scientifically accurate, as far as I know. I also found this amusing.)
And so we went out with the tour group and walked through the woods and jumped off beautifully morning-lit peach-accented cliffs into the ocean before I woke up.
Oddly enough, I can actually see myself running that kind of tattoo design parlor. I would like it.
-2-
Last night's dream was darker, both in actual colors my brain used and actual theme, but it was fun in the end, and involved a silly idea. The silly idea and the darkness both came from Neil Gaiman's book Neverwhere, which is one of my favorites.
It all begins with a contest: 'the best short story based in the Neverwhere universe' was to be judged by a panel of experts and then published in the Digest. (Yes, Gaiman was on the panel, and professed in a little introductory blurb, to 'love this piece.' Go figure.)
And so I'm sitting here, actually reading this story, and it's quite fun and dark, and then suddenly the curve of an 'a' melts into the arch of a bricked-up subway tunnel. You hear, rather than see, an old-fashioned streamlined train go through the opening, and feel the wind rushing along behind it. A few railroad officials and engineers in overalls come running down the dimly lit platform with flashlights in their hands, saying things like "where the hell did they go? They were right in front of us," and stand there swearing at the bricked-up arch. Most of them leave, but one of the old engineers notice that a brick is missing from the archway, and eventually spots it on the ground between the old railroad tracks. He hops down onto the tracks, grabs the brick, and shoves it back in the hole.
Long, low train-whistle. Accompanying perspective switch - you go through the hole with the brick, and the view swings around out the other side till you see you are in a dusty old blocked off part of the station with art deco railings and such.
It would be beautiful, if it were not for the fact that several large Cerebus-type wolverines are now heading after you and your friend, the man who can shapeshift into a bear (they heard you when you sighed in relief) and now you have to get out of the only entrance without dropping the golden goose egg. The only entrace is a skylight.
Thankfully, you do actually make it out alive, and go back on tour with your partridge-family style bus that travels the country doing covers of Beatles songs in the style of Bob Dylan with absolutely beautiful acoustic guitar licks inspired by the atonal piano music of Debussy.
Some militia group tries to blow up your beach-house while you are away, but it's okay because your cousin, who is taking care of the house (he's a hippie teenager with nifty red bat-wings) realizes that the key that the militia-guy gave him (he thought he was the realtor, at first, and let him in) is the bomb detonator.
He asks (not without some sorrow) the beautiful oak tree outside the window if it would be alright if he threw the key in the tree and blew it up, instead, instead of blowing up the house? The tree says yes (it's cool to hear trees talking in your dream) and kind of shrugs it off, explaining that it's good mojo to have a shapeshifting bear and a winged guy and a maker of music around and it will probably be able to grow back the same way within another ten years or so, so don't worry.
And bat-guy flies off to the concert to deliver the news that everything is okay, and militia-man doesn't try to blow up the house again, and the three-part harmony gets a standing ovation.
(What I was really amused by with this one, besides the absolutely beautiful music, is the fact that one of the rejected stories involved the Marqis de Carabas and one of the Lamia forming an escort service. One can see why it was rejected.)
There are two dreams in chronological order.
-1-
The dream of last night was quite fun, before I woke up from it in a great deal of pain (but that's another story, and as I am now fine, a moot point).
First, I was running a tattoo parlor somewhere in a major city. It had a very nice clientele as a result of its location and its reputation, for it was not only a tattoo parlor, but a tattoo-design shop. The client would get several sessions with me, where I would present them with different designs based on ideas they had given me at their first consultation, so they ended up with something designed especially for them that spoke to them the way they wanted it. When the dream began, I believe that I was explaining to one of my newer clients why I didn't have any tattoos myself. I found this amusing because it is actually the explanation that I have given in real life before for why I don't have any.
And then Rush-that-Speaks came into the store, and at first I thought that maybe I had mis-scheduled some time in the appointment book, because I hadn't been expecting her for a design consultation, and rushed about rummaging through papers trying to find designs for the tattoo she'd asked for. (This I also found amusing.) But it turned out she had just dropped by to say goodbye to me for a while, because apparently the tattoo business had been so sucessful that I was going on a tropical island eco-tour for a few months.
Cut to tropical island.
Big bananna and palm trees. Nice coral reefs. ...And a short walk later through woods where red-and-blue birds flew by and odd monkeys howled, we were in the orientation hut, about thirty feet off the ground in a treehouse with a truly beautiful view of the water and the rainforest.
The park ranger was explaining to us in a beautiful accent (yes, I think accents are beautiful) all about how the island was formed millions of years ago from volcanoes erupting under the ocean, and all about how they could track the continental drift through seeing where the island had been. It was about the size and shape of New Zeland, but formed like Hawaii. (Some of geology class must have stuck. This part of the dream was scientifically accurate, as far as I know. I also found this amusing.)
And so we went out with the tour group and walked through the woods and jumped off beautifully morning-lit peach-accented cliffs into the ocean before I woke up.
Oddly enough, I can actually see myself running that kind of tattoo design parlor. I would like it.
-2-
Last night's dream was darker, both in actual colors my brain used and actual theme, but it was fun in the end, and involved a silly idea. The silly idea and the darkness both came from Neil Gaiman's book Neverwhere, which is one of my favorites.
It all begins with a contest: 'the best short story based in the Neverwhere universe' was to be judged by a panel of experts and then published in the Digest. (Yes, Gaiman was on the panel, and professed in a little introductory blurb, to 'love this piece.' Go figure.)
And so I'm sitting here, actually reading this story, and it's quite fun and dark, and then suddenly the curve of an 'a' melts into the arch of a bricked-up subway tunnel. You hear, rather than see, an old-fashioned streamlined train go through the opening, and feel the wind rushing along behind it. A few railroad officials and engineers in overalls come running down the dimly lit platform with flashlights in their hands, saying things like "where the hell did they go? They were right in front of us," and stand there swearing at the bricked-up arch. Most of them leave, but one of the old engineers notice that a brick is missing from the archway, and eventually spots it on the ground between the old railroad tracks. He hops down onto the tracks, grabs the brick, and shoves it back in the hole.
Long, low train-whistle. Accompanying perspective switch - you go through the hole with the brick, and the view swings around out the other side till you see you are in a dusty old blocked off part of the station with art deco railings and such.
It would be beautiful, if it were not for the fact that several large Cerebus-type wolverines are now heading after you and your friend, the man who can shapeshift into a bear (they heard you when you sighed in relief) and now you have to get out of the only entrance without dropping the golden goose egg. The only entrace is a skylight.
Thankfully, you do actually make it out alive, and go back on tour with your partridge-family style bus that travels the country doing covers of Beatles songs in the style of Bob Dylan with absolutely beautiful acoustic guitar licks inspired by the atonal piano music of Debussy.
Some militia group tries to blow up your beach-house while you are away, but it's okay because your cousin, who is taking care of the house (he's a hippie teenager with nifty red bat-wings) realizes that the key that the militia-guy gave him (he thought he was the realtor, at first, and let him in) is the bomb detonator.
He asks (not without some sorrow) the beautiful oak tree outside the window if it would be alright if he threw the key in the tree and blew it up, instead, instead of blowing up the house? The tree says yes (it's cool to hear trees talking in your dream) and kind of shrugs it off, explaining that it's good mojo to have a shapeshifting bear and a winged guy and a maker of music around and it will probably be able to grow back the same way within another ten years or so, so don't worry.
And bat-guy flies off to the concert to deliver the news that everything is okay, and militia-man doesn't try to blow up the house again, and the three-part harmony gets a standing ovation.
(What I was really amused by with this one, besides the absolutely beautiful music, is the fact that one of the rejected stories involved the Marqis de Carabas and one of the Lamia forming an escort service. One can see why it was rejected.)
