unusual dreams 2001

these are the collected dreams of the perishable website users.

2004 2003 2002 2001 2000 1999

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.
- 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.
- 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.
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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
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
- 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.
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.".
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- Thursday, September 06, 2001 at 15:27:30 (CDT)
- 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."
- 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?
- 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.
- 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.
- 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!
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)
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 12:48:22 (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 12:46:49 (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 12:46:16 (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.
- 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)
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.
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.
- 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
- 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. .. ..
- 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.
- 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.
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.
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.
- 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!
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.
- 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...
- 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."
- 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.
- 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.
- 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)
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 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 14:38:45 (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.
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!"
- 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…"
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.
- 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
- 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.
- 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.
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.
- 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"!
- 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.
il please - Wednesday, January 03, 2001 at 20:11:39 (CST)

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