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Fermius Firefly

A Dream Log, whenever I remember the dreams I've had.

My Photo
Location: San Marcos, United States

Fermius is a pen name drawn from a series of short fiction I wrote when I published the small press magazine Stellanova (on paper.) I play RPG games to escape from my daily grind as a technology wage slave for the state of California. I eat out a lot in order to do my part in supporting our increasingly service level economy. I am butler to 2 feline masters. If you ask them they will tell you I'm not very good at it, late with dinner, don't have enough hands with brushes in them, and sometimes I even lock them out of their office.

Saturday, April 29, 2006

Dream Snippet

      I remember only one detail of the dream, and that not accurately. I was having to enter two passwords for --? The first of the pair I have not recollection of, the second is reduced to:
      All I know is that it was at least 5 characters long.

Friday, April 28, 2006

Work Dream

            I dreamed I was at an Elementary School explaining how the Multi-Purpose Room AV systems worked to a group of teachers and about 30 5th graders. During the presentation a couple of High School teachers came in and asked me to come with them, they had a serious problem. I had trouble convincing them that I wasn't done yet, we were only taking a break. They insisted that it would only take a second, but they were in such a rush that they didn't even want to stop and let me get my shoes (everyone had taken their shoes off because the custodians had just waxed the floor.)


            I have several other updates to make, somehow I just haven't found time to get them typed and posted. Something to do this weekend between loads of laundry, I suppose.


Ad astra per technica,



Monday, April 24, 2006

Sails vs Steam a Race

      I dreamed I was captain of a sailing ship. We were stopped at a port on a small island. Upon seeing a map to a legendary lost world, and entering into friendly competition to find it with a steamship captain, I offloaded my cargo and filled my holds with extra water and rations (fresh fruit and livestock) for my crew.
      The steam ship sailed immediately after doing the same. I and my crew had to wait for the tide and the wind. My crew were upset that we were going to be leaving eight hours behind the steamship. "It's OK," I told them, "I know a shortcut." Although that didn't seem to make any sense, I knew we would be able to sail almost directly to our destination, wind willing, and the steamship would have to stop at least twice to take on fresh water and fuel for its boilers. Indeed, we actually spotted the steamship a few days out headed on a course for some nearby islands, that, because of our fresh stock of fruit and animals, we were able to sail by them.
      We didn't see the steam ship until we'd actually sailed into the archipelago containing the islands we were searching for. They were navigating a narrow channel about a mile ahead of us. Here we had the advantage as the wind fully roared down out of the island mountains, and our shallow draft gave us a clearer path into the harbor. In a few minutes of maneuvering, we sailed past them into the clear but shallow waters of a calm natural harbor.
      With lots of whooping and shouting, we coasted in to an anchorage and then began to un-ship the long boats.

Difficult sleeping night

The following is presented as it left my fingers after rolling around in bed for more than six hours without sleep. I finally got out of bed, sat at the computer in the dark without my glasses and just started typing. I'm not even sure how I managed to save the file with a valid file name, but here it is:

Difficult sleeping night
Saddened by the death of a lion cub, too much a reminder of the ease with which a single slipup can lead to death in the world af wild animals. We are just not used to the rapidity of action the natural world contains.

Then my brain latched on to Marine Event Horizon, repeating the phrase over and over again until it lost its meaning and then gained the realization that it might have multiple meanings like some sort of miniature Nostra Damos prophecy.

Would that be Marine in the sense of Aquatic, particularly Oceanic, or it the Event on the Horison (involving US Marines, or the Ocean.+ Or perhaps is this an event horison in which everything is sucked in completely once the threshhold is crossed. Is there just some aquaic event near. If I convert it to a bad quatrain with other ambiguous terms and post it as prophecy, will it become so popular that I would have to go into hiding.

Perhaps, just maybe, I can start my own church. I cold claim I transcribed them from golden tablets. Wait, that's been done. How about aluminum foil. No I have it! Alien materials that vanished once they were opened and transcribed. I could even use my digital camera to take photos of the tablets before they evaporated. Let us ignore for te moment that the writing on them looks remarkabley like it is comprised of the same sort of strokes I would use in my own illustration work, or that the phrasing is also similar. I have another idea. Take my writing sytle and fix it with alien syntax by babel fishing it into Russian or something and them back into english. Because We know the deity involved would dertainly only speak to me, its chosen champion, in English. Latin would be presumptuous, and too Catholic.

I should not consume chocolate before going to bed. Too much hand ahd foot pain, too much non-random brain noise. The OCD thought patterns seem to be triggered by caffien, or sucar, or the combination of both. This is too stream of unconsciousness, and I don't have my glasses on so can't actually see the words as I type them. My fingers keep telling me I'm making mistakes, but I'll be darned if I can see them well enough to correct them. Wouldn't it be a shame if I was so far off the home rows that the words turn out to be unreadable. Thank goodness for the little line embossed (raised) on the f and j keys. That
s the only tow letters I've ty[ed correctly the whole evening. I know that isn't really true, as I can squint and make out the form of some of the words on the screen. I can also just change the font sizw, If I really wanted to make out what is going on. OK, now I;m just stalling, don't want to lay back down and try to sleep. I should just think up a story, but no, my brain is stuck on Marine Event Horisons, and Dead Lion CUb and the rescued puppu who misses him. Not to mention the SD public who flocked to the WAP in near record numbers to see him.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Super Hero Bar

      I dreamed I was in a bar full of super heroes. Various ancient gods, spandex clad crime fighters, techno investigators and their sidekicks and hangers on. I was definitely feeling out of place in there. I ordered a beer and took a seat at the end of the bar near a couple of more normal looking folks.
      One of the women came over and struck up a conversation. I tried to convince her that I didn't have any super powers, but she insisted on being hurt that I was being so secretive. After a few minutes another gentleman came over and explained that no one without the glow could get into the place, so either I had super powers, or was intimately involved with someone who had super powers, who was currently in the bar.
      "Does anyone claim this sidekick?" the woman asked. I was enjoying the look at the back of her costume, it almost didn't have one. Everyone looked over, I waved at them. Most of them waved back, somehow I knew they would. No one claimed me, though. I knew that also. She turned back to me, a frown on her face. "Maybe you just didn't know until now that you're a super."
      "He could be the incarnation of an ancient god."
      "Or the avatar of a god," quipped another.
      A Dr. Strange looking fellow with a moon and stars cape walked over and looked at me, apparently checking out my aura. "A Dimension Walker, possibly or possessed."
      "Possessed? That doesn't sound very heroic." Thor, or someone who looked like I thought Thor should look crossed the room to tower over me.
      "Hey! You know the rules, no rough stuff or you're all out of here on your kesters. He got through the doors, he passed the evil detector, which is more than I can say for some of you; he paid cash for his beer, and he left a tip. That's more than some of you mugs." The bartender was sounding more Irish by the second. "As far as I'm concerned he's one of the good guys.
      I thanked him, and tossed him another ten rubles, "I've got to go, someone just stole my rental car." I knew that for an absolute fact, I don't know how but I did. The Dr. Strange fellow just smiled as I left the room. I couldn't help but feel that I was being watched as I strode across the parking lot to the auto repair place.
      The auto shop was closing up for the night when I stepped into their garage just under the closing door.
      A mechanic said something in Russian (I think.) I told him I was here to enquire about my rental car, and pointed to the mostly disassembled frame tucked under a couple of drop cloths. They had stripped it of almost every part but the frame and the back quarter panels. Oddly, they had set my luggage aside, it was locked and in good anvil cases so they hadn't yet broken into it. They jabbered at me about not being able to prove anything. I walked over to where my luggage was hidden and tossed open the bin. I pulled out one of the cases, opened it, closed it and relatched it.
      "I suppose you're going to tell me this stuff is yours?"
      "Nyet." I understood that. They closed in on me, three of them. I touched the closest, the leader, on the arm. I don't know exactly what I did, but he started crying and backed off in a big hurry. He started yelling orders at his startled companions. They began to pull together parts and started reassembling the car. There were some parts not available, as they had already used them in another vehicle, but they would be able to get them in the morning. I borrowed one of the mechanic's cars, and told him I would be back in the morning. When I took the keys from the mechanic, his fingers brushed the back of my hand, I flooded his mind with the emotional reactions of every one of his criminal victims who was still living. He collapsed to his knees, promising in broken English that the car would be ready, and he would even wax it. "When will this feeling stop?"
      "When you've made amends." I climbed into his car and drove over to my hotel.
      As I drove past the bar, the blonde super hero in the backless dress waved to me. I stopped and told her where I was staying. "Dinner at eight?"
      She smiled and said she'd meet me in the lobby. No matter how good her disguise, I knew I would recognize her. I also knew the night was going to be quite pleasant, for both of us.

Monday, April 17, 2006

Pitch Session

      Dreamed I was in a very cluttered house, books and magazines everywhere, piles of clothing and dishes were scattered about. There was a clear room in the dining area, it had been set up with diffusion gel on the sliding glass windows and photographers backgrounds hung from a series of window shades along the opposite wall. There were also several reflectors and a couple of tripods in the room. The man who lived/worked there looked like Dean Stockwell, only heavier and with more facial hair. I had brought my journal, full of film pitches, and a portfolio case with some photographs and some 3d renderings based on other photograper's works. (Just to show the breadth of my abilities.)
      Now, in real life I'm not that much of a photographer or artist, but the samples in my portfolio were quite good. The Director looked through them. "usable for the magazine, maybe online. Do you have any nudes?"
      "Not that are available for publication," I admitted. "I'm really more of a writer, creator."
      "OK, let's hear it."
      I pitched him a couple of ideas. I could tell he didn't like them as much as he liked my photography. He stopped me and asked a couple of other people to look at my portfolio, and asked me to leave any treatments I might have brought along. After chatting about his setup, and his collection, we started to grate on one another. No real animosity on my part, but I could feel some on his. I quickly made my excuses so as not to sour things further, then I discovered my portfolio was missing.
      We looked for it for a little bit, he becoming more and more agitated. Other people began to arrive, one was introduced as his "mate." She was a pleasant faced silver haired woman who was still beautifully shaped for her age. We began to talk a little bit. I telling her that I must have misplaced my portfolio. She indicated that it might be a tough thing to find in the mess. She invited me to stay for dinner and their "after dinner dessert party."
      "Sorry dear, he's a lunatic, there is no portfolio, he's just leaving." The Director tried to rush me out of there. Not wanting to make a fuss, I described the portfolio quickly as I was leaving. He handed me a black zippered journal, a smaller version of my portfolio. I looked inside, there were some equations and the like, many pages of game systems started over and over again, like in my own journal's.
      "Hey, this is like mine!"
      "Yeah! and she was nothing but trouble, too." He pushed me out the front door. I wasn't really resisting. "If I can use anything I'll let you know. I may send a couple of models to you, if you do a good job I'll publish you. Now get out!"
      "Thank you." I turned and headed down the long driveway to my car, then realized that my car keys were in the portfolio case. Sighing, I turned and walked back up the driveway. I stood outside the front door for a couple of minutes before knocking gently.
      The Mate answered the door. "Hello again, have you reconsidered dinner?"
      "I'd better not. I just realized that I'd left my car keys in a portfolio like this one," I showed her the journal the Director had forced into my hands before leaving, "only it was about three times the size."
      "I think I was just looking at the portfolio, I thought there was something in the pocket." She looked back into the house. "Wait here, I'll get you your keys." She closed the door gently and I waited,
      And Waited.
      And finally woke up waiting for my keys. I wanted to get up and check my portfolio, then realized I don't have one like that.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Dream Hotel with Three Women, Work

      Almost all of my dreams this morning were downright pornographic. It was a good morning. In the most memorable, I found I was in a hotel, watching the TV, when it suddenly flipped over to an adult entertainment channel. At least, that's what I thought. I then realized it was a playback of the previous night's activities. I had picked up a group of three friends, all brunettes, and had taken them back to the room in turns. Turned out that their room was adjoining mine. As I was watching the video I was simultaneously remembering the encounters.
      One woman had stayed with me the whole time, even staying to watch while I had sex with her two friends. She then joined for a threesome with the older blue-eyed curly haired woman with paper white skin and even one foursome, adding the hazel-eyed woman with short straight hair and an amazing all over tan, The woman woke up and enticed me into one more encounter, saying "you haven't tried this yet." I was amazed that I had anything left in me. I did, and soon it was in her.
      During our morning romp the video showed what had happened next door; the remaining two women had picked up another guy and taken turns with him ending the evening in another threesome. "Darn, we missed it," my partner said as the sun started peeking through the curtains. I wasn't too sad about missing it, after all I'd had her, I let her know that.
      I definitely got the best looking one of the bunch, she was even better looking in the light, pale skin with a slight tan, small perky breasts and smooth skin on nicely flared hips, full kissable lips with dark brown almost black eyes that made it difficult to see where the pupil and the iris transitioned. Auburn tones in dark wavy hair, just past shoulder length and cut smoothly up to fairly short bangs that framed her sweet oval face. There may have been a hint of Asian around the eyes.
      As I was adoring her in the light, I noticed a little face outside the window. He or she, I couldn't tell was trying to peek in through the less than an inch wide opening in the under drapes. My companion snuggled down on top of me and pulled the covers over us. We didn't allow this to interrupt our encounter. being under the covers intensified the scent of our encounter.
      The manager came knocking on the door a little while later. I headed him off by saying I wanted to complain that he had someone running around the hall peeking in to the rooms. I showed him the "letter of complaint," I was drafting on the "tell us about your visit" form. He looked at the way the curtains didn't quite come together and stay together, and grumbled and left.

      The only non-wet dream was me sitting at my desk at work, I'd been there for several hours, not moving, just working on the phone with people. My boss kept wandering through looking like he was looking for something that he couldn't find, or trying to talk to me, to tell me something. On the fourth or fifth visit I asked my caller to hold, and asked him if I could help him find something, or answer a question. Turns out he wanted to move me over to the Adult Ed office to switch places with the tech who was over there.
      Medical reasons. M was diagnosed with severe arthritis and they could no longer keep him in a position where he had to move around so much. (My condition makes no difference whether I am moving around or not.) So, because he hadn't re-written the job title and description yet, we, on paper, have the same job. The union insisted on the move. I wasn't really upset about it, and indicated that I could still take calls if the rollover lines rang at the remote office. It wouldn't make any difference to the caller if I wasn't at the district office. The only thing would be my inability to walk into the "pit" and get an Engineer or System Analyst right away. Most of the time that's more of a rights issue than a knowledge issue, however.
      My boss agreed, then indicated that we might want to have an LA-SA combination at the remote site, perhaps he could get my access increased and then, in six months, do a desk audit to give me half a promotion. (Now, I was thinking "this is a bribe to get me to go over there." I would have went anyway, as the job would be much the same, only with more face to face interaction, and more time to play with the actual hardware. The commute would be a little bit shorter. Not really a bad deal as far as I could tell.) It was good to offer, I think I would actually be more effective with more access. I would also get to use the SQL knowledge I'd been learning. I know, of course, that I will go where ever I'm sent and not really have any choice about it, other than to resign. I'm several years from the point where I could retire.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Dreams Bad Class Leads to War, Playing Old Game

      The Class went bad. I was disappointed. The professor said something that made the rest of the students laugh again. I couldn't here what it was. The professor began to speak again. He said something that was completely inconsistent with logic. I pointed it out with a similar construction, one that was humorous. The class was laughing again. Expecting me to say something else. I asked a direct question about the material, something historical, something he could answer with a fact. Something that I hoped would bring the class back to being useful again. The fact, sadly for the professor, didn't support what he was saying either. Neither did the next set of facts I was able to elicit. Pretty soon I was driving the class forward, but in a direction that was different than the professor wanted, even if it was all based on the factual knowledge he was able to provide.
      Unable to control the logical development, and not happy just to be the provider of the facts, the professor abandoned the class and turned us out to be consumed by the war. I made my way out to the trenches, where I was able to find a cozy spot to hunker down with a bunch cats. I was telling every one who went by to go back the other way. For some reason, they did. Eventually the enemy came through, they wanted to know where everyone went. I told them our side had all disguised themselves and made their way over the border into their homes, since we needed the jobs they'd left behind when they took up arms against us.
      They thought about that for a bit, then shot me in the legs and decided they'd just better go home. The war was over, because, of course, when they got home their jobs were waiting for them. I was left on the battle field. The professor came out and lorded it over me that we'd all got what we'd deserved. I told him I was sorry for the way his class had turned out, but as far as I knew, I'd talked our way out of the war, and I'd been the only casualty. Economics could trump warfare if both sides could be made to see reason. He was P.O'd that there was no longer anyone out here fighting the war. He was even more ticked when he found out I'd sent them all home to make wealth. He then ran out into the battle field and broke the dam, flooding the place.
      I managed to crawl out of the trenches, and called most of the cats out as well. The water rushed through the trenches and washed the debris away. The water barely came up over my legs where I sat, covered with cats trying to stay dry. When the water receded people came out to see what had happened, and to fill in the trenches and plant crops.
      Some of them recognized me, and helped me back to the infirmary at the college. Several Doctors were interning there, so they diced over who would get to remove my bullets and stitch me back together. Because it was a learning hospital, and I was a "peace hero" it was going to be free to me. All I had to do was sign a waiver.

      I also dreamed I was playing Quake II or something similar. I was in the warehouse heading up to the room where the materializer was located. Just in time I remembered there was a powerful badguy with a rail gun across from the door. I opened the door and flung myself to the side. I reached around and fired the laser pistol a few times to get a take on how many were waiting and how close. I took care of the closest ones by tossing a grenade through the door. It bounced off a low wall right to the other side of the concrete barrier. I could tell from the whoosh! Splat! That there was no longer a badguy waiting there for me. I remembered I had a grenade launcher so pulled it out and sent a spread through the doorway as I dove to the other side. The blue trails of a railgun round arced through the center of the door.
      I hadn't been hit! The grenades thundered in the other room. I heard several more splats. So ran into the room diving down behind the short wall. I remembered there was a gatling gun grenadier on the other side of the depression. I braced myself to run back out of the room if I heard grenades being launched towards me. None come. I heard the mechanisms of the treaded undercarriage of the alien with the rail gun. I hadn't taken him out with the grenades, and now I didn't have a clue as to where he was located. I fired another spread of five grenades and heard them bouncing around. One of them struck home and exploded, the others went off on their timers a couple of seconds later. That's some pretty sophisticated programming for a grenade. I rolled out into the narrow hallway at the end of the manufacturing pit. The rail gun was on the ground. I slunk up and grabbed it.
      Still twenty rounds of ammunition. I made my way back into the entry area, and stepped out into the open. The grenadier stepped out from behind a pillar and raised his grenade launcher. I hit him with a round from the rail gun and knocked him back, the grenade bounced off the ceiling and detonated at his feet. I raced down the hallway hoping to get the drop on him, knowing I hadn't taken him down yet. I realized that I could actually shoot at things and hit them, must be because I was playing a game....Woke up at that point.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

The Airline Dream

            I am walking through an airport, and find myself re-directed to a smaller concourse and then out across the tarmac to a small turbo-prop airliner. It is old looking, and we have to cross the cold gusty asphalt and then climb up a rickety ladder to board. N is not happy about the ladder. The burn marks and grease stains swept back from the cowling and wheel well doors make the craft look well worn and not often cleaned up. The windows, once we get inside, are yellowed Plexiglas and scratched and foggy with age. The vinyl seats are showing their age with cracks and patches.

            The takeoff is smooth and without incident, we circle the airfield before heading north. The airfield is nestled in a desert valley between two jagged looking mountain ranges, both brown instead of green. This place is very familiar; I have flown in and out of it many times, sometimes at the yoke of the plane, and sometimes, like tonight, as a passenger. N closes her eyes, she doesn't like the tight climbing turn we have to make to gain enough altitude to get out of the narrow valley over the mountains.

            Once we are in the air things are much calmer. I recognize the stewardess, she is a former "erotic" model. I think she looks better with a few pounds on her. She can tell I recognized her, but I just smile and treat her politely. Once we are off the plane the stewardess thanks me for not making a big deal of her past.

            "I 'm glad to see you're healthy and happy."

            She says she’s lucky, many of her acquaintances were not so fortunate.

            "That probably had more to do with the nature of the person," and "you're more delightful in person, as a real person than as a fantasy."

            We wished her continued success and that we hoped to see her on our way back home.

            She asked if there was anyplace cool to go while she was there, so we told her about the Wild Animal Park and the Zoo plus KPFM and a couple of other places. N gave her one of her cards with our number on it.


Ad astra per technica,


Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Driving with C in a Caddy, Rehearsal in Church

            Dreamed of traveling in a big dark Cadillac being driven by C, one of the sys admins from work. We kept heading up the wrong street, even headed the wrong way down a one way street at one point. Cyrus just said "Don't worry, I got it" and turned around in the nearest driveway.

            The town I was riding around in was much like the small town off the freeway in a previous dream.


            There was also something about being at a music rehearsal in the old St. Michael's church. Even in the dream I knew the church had burned down several years ago. Even though I knew that, I was surprised that of all these religious people, none of them was being respectful of the place we were in. I pointed out to the attendants that the tabernacle light was lit and shouldn't the Catholics, at least, be respectful of that. The priest (who I didn't recognize) said of course they should, and wouldn't it be nice if everyone were respectful.

            "Even though I might doubt the whole divinity thing, respecting others beliefs in their church just seems like basic politeness" I responded.

            The priest thanked me and we went on to talk about my hybrid car.


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Monday, April 10, 2006

Haunted, Bus Ride, Plow

            Dreamed of my haunted house, just cleaning the main hall carpets with a carpet cleaning machine, no soap loaded in it, steam only. Kind of know where that came from, had watched some of Stephan King's "Rose Red" just before heading to bed.


            Dreamed I was on a bus ride that got detoured through Sonoma County. We rolled up and down the streets of a steep sloping suburban community and finally over a steep bridge. The bus driver expressed that she wasn't certain the bus could climb the metal grid that was the ramp to the bridge. We moved the students over the wheel wells to help transfer the weight from the front to directly over the wheels.

            I told her to just take the climb in first gear and not worry about going slow. Fortunately there was no traffic behind us. N moved to the center of the bus also, not wanting to see through the grating to the rushing river below. We made it to the top of the ramp and crossed the level part of the bridge. The slope down the other side was just as severe and I almost slipped forward out of my seat. The Driver was standing on the brakes and using engine compression to try to stop at the traffic signal at the very bottom of the ramp.

            We weren't going to make it. The light turned green just before we entered the intersection, brakes squealing, tires smoking etc. The students who were with us cheered.


            I dreamed of walking behind two large oxen tilling a dark red loamy soil. The ground opened up wetly and the furrows slumped back to almost level shortly after we passed by. I wondered why I was plowing a marsh.


            There was also a set of just random images and sounds from ridgelines surrounded by eagles to a jungle canyon green up both sides with the sounds of parrots and monkeys to a meadow with airplanes flying overhead and lastly windsailing a sort of three wheeled cycle through the city streets of San Marcos, working furiously to avoid tangling the sail on the signs and signals along the side of the road.


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Sunday, April 09, 2006

Random Images and Scenes II

      Large quantity of cliff images, both walking along the top edges of them and at the bottom of canyons looking up.
      N and I were getting into my car, N had just come from shopping, and she had stopped to get her hair cut short again. She'd decided that she needed a change and "It was cheaper than changing you."
      I was in a 50's style diner signing books for a long line of folks. I was trying to get some food in between visitors, but it never seemed to let up. One of my former drama students was there keeping me on task, and keeping the line of autograph seekers moving. I remember commenting on the decor "The first time I was in this place the vinyl was teal not maroon. I like the maroon a lot better." Then I wrote that on the flyleaf of the book I was signing. The fan looked at it quizzically. "Trust me, you'll get a lot more on eBay for it now."
      It was dark out, Little Red, my car was difficult to spot in the darkness, and when I did find her I was depressed by her condition. The hood and top of the car had faded and there were spots of paint flaking off. I went into the Target store and bought a can of White spray paint and a roll of fat masking tape. I taped over the good paint in a waving flag pattern and painted the cracked and flaking areas white. Right there in the parking lot. The lot security guy came over and S (former drama student) took him aside and explained who I was and what I was doing. A few minutes later I pulled the tape off and the car had a nifty looking wavy red and white striped pattern. Somehow I'd managed to paint the whole thing without painting myself or anything near by.
      I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick N up, she'd gone home with them to rest because I'd agreed to stay until the diner closed. When I got there I realized there was a problem. I had only one passenger seat and I still had my publicist with me. Mom let me borrow her car for the night so I could take both of them home with me in a single trip. S was staying the weekend on the futon before heading back out to New York. N and I argued about the New York trip, she didn't want to take any more time off of work, and felt that I shouldn't either. I told her I had the time on the books, so even if I didn't make a big splash with the book tour, I would at least enjoy it. I asked her to take time off for the Chicago Comic Convention, she would at least be able to visit with family.
      I was out on a hillside overlooking the dream city. I could see the haunted house on the other side of the valley and knew that I should get back before nightfall. I also knew that there was no way to make it unless I could fly. Not happening. Instead I found myself walking with a large tawny lion. We ran together across the marshy ground at the base of the valley.
      I was making my way up a huge cliffside full of switchbacks. It was taking forever. We should use magic, one of the party said. I took a long length of rope and threw it up the cliff, catching it on some rocks a switchback or two above us. We climbed up.
      "If only there were a way to take it all the way to the top."
      I leaned out over the edge of the path and felt the wind rushing down the slope. Turning into the wind I extended my hands and they stretched out into long wings. The webbing between my fingers and now my back caught the air and pulled me out off the cliff. I flapped, gingerly, then stronger. I grabbed the rope with my foot, and glided up the slope, weaving back and forth across the face of the cliff to take advantage of the airflow over the rim of the canyon as it swirled around. When I got to the top of the ridge I dropped the grapple between a couple of boulders and then just flew out over the canyon for fun. I could hear the group climbing up the steep slope, complaints about the "darned druid showing off."
      The game master was laughing and pointed out that I looked like some sort of pit fiend, so they had run back to town for more pitchforks and torches. I was suddenly sitting at a table holding a miniature above the table, swooshing it about. I landed it on the trail just below the top of the mesa and said I'm releasing the spell now. Then went to await my companions. They were all yelling at me for stirring up the countryside against them.
      "Hey by the time they get back we'll have cut the rope a few feet down, then claim we were on the trail when we were beset by fiends, but managed to drive them off.
      I was suddenly back on the trail with my companions and We cut the rope. I made a couple of swipes at the other members of the party with a clawed hand, ripping some fierce looking gauges in their armor. They yelped in surprise. They chased me all the way to the top of the mesa, just in time to see the villagers rushing out in a mass with torches and pitchforks. They believed us, especially when they pulled up the rope and saw the marks on the mercenary's armor.
      There was something more after that, someone sneaking into the house while I was napping in the bedroom. The cats all ran into the room and hid behind me. That was how I knew there was something wrong. It was just one of the neighbors looking for their kid. I don't know why the kid would be in my house, but talked to them a bit before they left, pointing out the neighbors who had kids of their own that they might be playing with. Sure enough, the kid was next door.
      I was mopping the front room, but the water just got deeper and deeper. I had to open the garage door to let the water out. That made the garage cats upset, they jumped up on the workbenches and the litter buckets and scowled at me.
      Holly Berry was at Killer Pizza from Mars in her Flintstones costume, she needed a ride to the airport. (S and I had been having lunch there yesterday while the movie was on the big screen. So I know where that one came from, at least.)

Too many other images to categorize and recall. If they didn't' have a story I had trouble making a title or one line description to trigger a memory when I awoke. Still I managed to remember a bunch more than I thought I would.

Yet Another Wet Dream

      Swimming in the pool at M and S's while waiting for the hottub to heat up. I was at the shallow end when a slippery freckled redhead snaked her limbs around mine and started kissing me. Ah, sun, water, soft naked freckled babe. I wish that dream had lasted longer.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Backlot T-Rex and Alpaca Express

            N and I were watching a new holographic projection of Ghost Busters when I pointed out that we'd been here.

            "What do you mean, here?"

            "The Universal Studios back lot, remember?" I jumped up on the steps and pointed out the concrete lions.

            "Oh yes! I want to go back!"

            So we did. T-Rex was with us and the noise and confusion of the current production sent him running into a nearby sound stage. We raced after him. The guard at the stage door almost didn't let us in until I told him we were with the cat. "Sorry, go right in."

            We went in. I called for T-Rex and he meowed, then slunk out to me, making his way across a pile of boxes and under a pipe then over a parked car.

            "Did you get that shot?"  Yelled a director, who looked a lot like John Candy.  “That was perfect!”

            "Got it!" came the reply.

            The director came over and thanked me for the shot, explaining that he was only just ready, and could we do it again.

            I apologized, told him we were tourists who'd been sidetracked.

            "Wow he looks almost exactly like Gunpowder!"

            T-Rex fidgeted, thinking about running away again. "Call him by name, T-Rex and he'll calm down."

            "Hello T-Rex, you've got a big name. Do you want to be a stand in for Gunpowder?"

            T-Rex immediately calmed down at being called by name and leaned over to great the director. The director scratched his head.

            "I like this one better, he didn't try to bite me." He looked at N and I, "Come back to the quiet room and lets talk a bit. How'd you like to work on my film for a couple of days?"

            N and I shrugged and went with him. A couple of twins were doing homework in the quiet room; their tutor was trying to explain something as we entered. The cat distracted the kids immediately. We introduced him, they took to T-Rex immediately, and to his credit, he let them pet him and hold him, he hugged them around the neck just like he does with me.

            "Get me the cat makeup lady, I really like this cat, we got to get a shot of this for the film. Look at him." The director ran off to find the person he was yelling after.  T-Rex was nuzzling one of the twins making her giggle.

            Just to make conversation I asked the kids what they were working on. "Math," was the disappointed reply.

            I went off into some story about ancient astronomers and how they discovered the very thing they were now learning, but because no one had thought of it before how it was all new and shiny. The story made them laugh, and more importantly, made them take another look at what they were doing. Mom came over and asked if I wouldn't mind tutoring them.

            N and I gave the whole tourist speal, yet again. While explaining, the cat makeup lady came in with Gunpowder and the cat wrangler. Gunpowder was marked very similarly to T-Rex, only his face was symmetrical. We got to talking, and discovered that they'd bought him with three other tuxedo kittens in a pet shop in San Marcos. I asked them the date. It was T-Rex's brother, or at least one of the kittens that was on sale the same time he was. They sniffed and checked one another out, bad idea, normally. But T-Rex was so on the over-stimulated-edge of things he actually calmed down to have another cat around. The makeup and cat wrangler talked a bit, and decided that Gunpowder would get a spot of black dye to make him match T-Rex's face, since they already had film of T-Rex . And they would bleach a "T" on his back leg to match. Otherwise they were close enough. I was amazed that T was calm through the whole thing. The twins insisted on seeing the make up happen, and were delighted that the twins had twin cats. There were lots of photos.

            T-Rex's willingness to come when called was a great help in shooting the next few scenes. They used Gunpowder for all of the opening doors and cages and running through tunnels shots, then T-Rex again for all of the close-up shots with the twins (who also were playing a single character.) It was great fun, and afterwards they put us up in a nearby hotel. The hotel offered T-Rex his own room, but we insisted he spend the night with us.

            Gunpowder was a famous character from children's books I’d never heard about. The hotel concierge found us several copies, and the books were delivered to the room. There was plenty of leeway for the look of Gunpowder, not a single cover had a painting of the same cat on them, one wasn't even really a tuxedo cat.    

Now, the really funny part of the dream: My name was on the cover of the books.


            The name AlpacaExpress.com kept running through my head. The obsessive thing again, I GOT IT, OK, sheesh! Let me go back to sleep.

            Discovered during lunch: For AlpacaExpress there is an available site at register.com - alpacaexpress.com, but it is essentially up for auction as the original owners (likely the afore mentioned Register.com themselves, I'm not cynical am I?) have let the lease lapse. I'd like to get that for Stellanova News © as it used to be "Delivered by Alpaca Express, Really ->o-." Not paying $60 for it though as I haven't yet worked out an income generating plan to make it pay for itself.


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Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Library, Taxidermic T-Resurrection

            I was helping clean out the library at the site I used to work at. The Library collection of Trading Cards was in great disarray, I didn't even know the library had a card collection as part of its vertical files. The cards were in protective sleeve. The librarian was going to toss them all because someone had written on them. I pointed out that the writing was a signature of the artist; these were actually what are called "chase" cards. They were rare and potentially valuable. The librarian didn't care, it made them “look vandalized.”

I said I'd take them. She handed me several card catalog boxes full of them (I'd thought there were only a few!)

            There were several other unusual items; the most disturbing one was the dried stuffed and mounted front half of T-Rex! I was stunned. I started to pet his head. I'd really missed him, and had no idea what had become of him. (He'd just vanished one night, in my dream memory.)

            I petted him to resurrection. The librarian ran off when he grew a back end and came back to life. It was a little creepy when he hocked up a quart of sawdust instead of a fur ball. I gave him the meat and cheese out of my sandwich and he drained two glasses of water. Then he began purring loudly. He followed me outside where I introduced him to Virginia, a red and white Llama, only a year and a half old. They sniffed one another. "Don't make your return unhappy," I chided him when he started to growl.

            We walked towards home. Virginia carrying her bag of feed on one side and my trading cards in her pack on the other. T-Rex got tired and jumped up onto her back. She turned and he licked her on the head. She made a soft cooing noise as he settled between her packs and started purring. I could tell they were going to be good friends. I was wondering what I was going to tell N. I figured I'd better leave the "taxidermy coming to life" part out of it and just say we found him as we traveled home. “He must have hitched a ride in a car and ended up lost the last year or so. What great fortune to have found him again.” For some reason I was not in the least bit curious as to how he'd been mounted and given to the library. (Until I woke up, that is)


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Monday, April 03, 2006

Scottish Karaoke, Cliff Hanger

Scottish Karaoke

            N and I were with M and S in a Scottish pub. It was Karaoke night. Somehow we all managed to get up and slug out an old Abba song. It may have been “Fernando” or maybe it wasn’t. I kept thinking that instead of ABBA we’d be MSDN or DNSM or finally DMNS.


Cliff Hanger

            I was with a large group of people, most from “Killer Pizza from Mars”, walking on the edge of a cliff. Big A from KPFM falls over the cliff side. I am unable to catch him (the ground broken away beneath his feet.) Ever the optimist, I shout down at him to "kick off the wall, try for deep water!" Then I start climbing down in hopes of finding that he's OK. About halfway down the wall it turns into piles of stacked coins, mostly pennies the size of dinner plates, and I am straddling the columns,  looking around for the next lower stack so I can make it down to the surface of the lake without having to jump for it myself.

            The wind started picking up, and then it began to rain, making the stacks of coins slick and suddenly loose. I began to become wet and cold and lost the feeling in my legs. I slid down the piles of coins, struggling to stay on top of the collapsing mass of coins and mud. By the time the piles of coins had poured into the lake I was left on a low hill just above the water line.

            I looked around, trying to find A, initially without success. I then managed to get atop a rocky outcropping and saw him floating face up in the water. He didn't look happy, but at least he was alive. I managed to wade out to him and pulled him ashore. The people at the top of the hill had called 911 and there were police and an ambulance on the way.

            I was suddenly able to pick A up (He's at least half again my weight) and lifted him back to the cliff line. Growing to about 70 feet tall in the process, I stepped up to the cliff myself and shrank back to a more normal size. One person (J, also from KPFM) asked why I hadn't done that to save A in the first place.

            I didn't know I could. It wasn't until I was climbing down the cliff and reached the piles of coins that I realized I was dreaming. Even then I didn't want to upset the flow of the dream.


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Saturday, April 01, 2006

Beach Blanket Survivor, Resurrection Twins

      Two groups of young men and women were competing for prizes, additionally, each team had to eliminate one team member after each competition. I was the director or producer of this show. I had a secret meeting with the members of each team that were voted off, and the plan was simple. When one third of each team had been eliminated, the final event would take place, between three teams, the teams knew this, but the identity of the third "studio" team was unknown to either team or the audience.
      After the second round of competition, we had a team skit writing competition, this one was judged by a group of writers, SV being one of them. Each team had to produce a script for their skit for one less person than they currently had on the team, of course. So it created a situation where the men and women were fighting to determine that their number of roles stayed the same. What we didn't tell them, was that they would have to perform the other team's skit in the following competition. We announced that fact on the air just prior to the teams selecting what member had to leave. One team decided to choose regardless of the roles in the script, but the other read through the script and had lots of very photogenic arguments about who to lose from the male contingent, as the script didn't have as many male parts.
      I was being congratulated by the other producers for coming up with the idea of swapping scripts just before meeting with the couple who'd been eliminated. That meeting was a little bit sour, until I introduced them to their team mates. "This's f****d!" was the general take on the plan to slip them back in as the studio team, until we pointed out that they could no longer be eliminated, and they would be able to practice for "bikini paintball" from now until the competition in three weeks. That seemed to mollify them for the time being. The prospect of being able to paintball the people they perceived as their antagonists was a great inducement. I also pointed out that if they could keep their future participation secret from the media they would double their take, not to mention earn their Actor's Guild membership.
      This shifted smoothly, but unmemorably into the next dream where I was hooked up with a woman who I suspected of being undead. The teams were producing two members for the studio team, but the studio team kept vanishing. Finally I cornered this little dark haired companion on the topic.
      It seems my production assistant was some sort of vampiric witch. She took me back stage into one of the sleepover trailers and began to perform some strange ritual. Our missing team fell out of the sky, naked and glassy eyed, but otherwise the pictures of health. They shook off the effect in a few seconds and were decidedly not acting vampiric or dead. Just horny and glistening in the sunshine. The PA, Bev, started another ritual, lying down on the bed naked. I could see she was decomposing in places, so was able to resist her call to join her "And be renewed."
      With a wet "Floom" she disintegrated into a slimy forest green wave of, well, slime and implants. There was a shimmering above the bed, and two of her fell bouncing and splashing in the slime and silicone. I found myself dropping into a pile of green slime and clothing on the floor where I'd been standing.
      Only it wasn't two of her, she, angry and with thicker eyebrows introduced me to her identical twin, who'd died when they were teens. I struggled into my slimed clothing.
      "I've been waiting to do this for six years. I've brought Evelyn back! Now you have to take care of her, or else." She helped her formerly late sister up and pressed her into my arms. "Feed us, now!"
      Bev looked into the slime and picked up one of her breast implants. "S**t! I don't want to go through that again."
      "You don't have to, your breasts look better this way," I actually liked the smaller but perky natural shape much better than her fake ones.
      "Why did you bring me back?" Evelyn asked her now very thin sister Beverly.
      "I need you." Bev answered, then gave me a glare.
      I carried them both out to the lunch buffet. We got some looks, mostly because they were still naked, though the slime seemed to cover them pretty throroughly. I got another of the assistants to bring them up a couple of long T-shirts. Bev and Ev were not quite identical, I could tell Bev looked a little bit harder, not as happy. Ev was thinner faced but softer, I think her lips were fuller as well. There was something ethereal about her, angelic.
      Bev muttered something about my being Ev's match, not hers, and she'd known it the first time she'd kissed me. "I did this for you and her as much as me," she grumbled between bites. "Lost my powers, lost my boobs. You two better appreciate this."
      "I was happy, Bev, really happy." Ev began to cry. We comforted her as best we could. At least the slime as evaporating. I noticed that my pot belly was gone.
      I also noticed the reunited studio team was a hungry and slightly thinner bunch as well. The three vegetarians were scarfing up lunchmeat. I suddenly had an uneasy feeling about all of this.