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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.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

New House Jin, Dental Visit

        I dreamed I'd just purchased a three story house in a small hilly community across from a lake. I was moving in with the help of several friends. I was making notes of what colors to buy for paint. Everything was white, even the carpets. With the exception of my bedroom, I had everything put in the center of each room. After I started pacing the place out, I realized my lowest level seemed to be missing about three rooms worth of space. While the house was against a hill side, there was still a lot of empty space unaccounted for. We went down into the garage.

        In the garage I noticed a taped over area of dry wall, recently mudded. I pulled at the seams and, sure enough, there was a doorway behind the tape. There are hidden rooms off of the basement/garage, about three of them, all bright oranges and greens. The occupant seemed happy to see us, apparently having been taped in by the previous owner. She was just about out of food. Oddly, she seemed quite content with her impending doom. "I knew I'd be all right."

        "Do you know that this house was sold?"

        "I do now. I hope I can serve you, I can pay rent..."

        "You aren't upset about being walled into these rooms?"

        "They're much more spacious than the last place I was in, and I wasn't in here long at all. So, I'm much happier than last time."

        She acted happy to be out and was not in the least concerned about being walled in and nearly out of food. Then with a blink we're all in nice night wear and she escorted us out to a night club "that I know is a happening little place by the water."

        I realized that she is some sort of Jin, and had determined that I am her new savior, since I unsealed her "prison". So far I hadn't asked any thing of her, so decided to be real careful not to ask for anything until I was fairly certain she wasn't the 'twist the wish' sort of vengeful Jin. She seemed friendly enough. We danced at the jazz club, she smelled very nice, and there I decided not to throw her out of the house.

        "You're welcome to stay downstairs, we'll talk tomorrow about the future."

        We had dinner and most of my friends had to leave to get to work in the morning. I was taking an extended leave of absence, so didn't have to do anything but pick up paint and carpet dye. Then paint and dye, then unpack. I was beginning to re-think the whole move the whole library thing. I hadn't ever intended to move, but the opportunity to double my living space and pocket a huge profit on the old house, as well as leaving difficult memories behind, finally was too much to pass up.

        Then there is a visit to a dentist's office. I get invited to lunch with the dental assistant and several of her friends. We carpool to a Chinese restaurant near by. The dental assistant decided to leave early and walk back to work.

        Driving back a little later, I spotted the dental assistant on the median, walking. Some young men in a car ahead of us are harassing her. I climb out of the car, while it is moving, cross over the passenger side, using the door handles and window frames to hold on, then to the front of the car where a broken headlight provides a handhold and then a foothold, and then roll off the driver's side to land in the median on the soft grass. She starts to run back to the office. I know that I am not in any sort of shape, particularly after my car stunt, to go running after her. Now I am worried that I will be late for my appointment. I seem to have distracted the young men from her, though, so that was good.

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Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Bee 43 Where Are You?

Bee 43 Where are You? I dreamed that I was talking to SCV about the vanishing bees again, and this time I had several photographs I'd taken for him to look at. One of the photos I am actually using as a desktop at work right now.

Detail from Photo, notice the damage on the bee's wing.


Saturday, May 26, 2007

Bridge Dangle

       I dreamed I was walking along a high bridge over a gorge with rushing water at the bottom. There were two monorail lines at about waist height. The bridge below the rails was open, with a 6 inch I-beam support every 24 inches or so. A blonde woman and I were walking along the top of the rail when we heard, or more felt, a rumble. We couldn't see the monorail in either direction.
       The vibrations got stronger. I stepped down and over to the other rail. The vibrations were actually stronger on that rail. We spoke about what to do for a moment, there really wasn't any place to go but down onto the support beams, and even then, I knew we'd have to dangle from them in order to avoid getting smashed if there were two monorails passing one another on the bridge.
       "They wouldn't let two trains on the bridge at once, would they?"
       "I don't think they would have made the bridge with two sets of rails if they didn't intend to use them."
       I spotted trains approaching the bridge. I noticed that we were about 50 feet from a buttress that would allow us to step off the tracks and out over the gorge. "Make for the buttress." I told the girl and she half ran for it, switching over to the rail with the train that looked further away.
       I followed, but slipped and ended up bent over one of the rusty i-beams between the rails. I'd managed to hurt something in my chest, and couldn't pull myself upright. I hung there, and realized that I would need to catch my breath, but by the time I could, the train would be on me. I wrapped my arm over the beam and ducked down below the beam except my forearm. The monorail roared over me, the rails and beams shaking violently. I just managed to hold on, feeling debris of some sort pelting my forearm where it was exposed above the beam. There was a turbulent airflow that pulled at me, helping to hold me up. I switched arms and moved closer to the center of the beam as the other train passed. For a short while both trains shook the bridge and then were gone. I realized that I didn't seem to have enough strength to pull my self back up.
       I then dreamed of driving my old Plymouth Satellite, Cecil, but remember nothing else of the dream at this point.

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Friday, May 25, 2007

Stellanova Board Room Discussion

        My dream this morning was very detailed. I was in a classroom with a combination of white boards and green chalk boards. The white boards were full of information with very little room to write anything. It was obvious that there were three different classes in the room as there were notes for each of them on different walls. Since this was not my classroom, I was only borrowing it to meet with my new staff; I didn't want to erase anything. I really wanted to write ideas down on the board though for public brainstorming purposes. We were discussing the resurrection of Stellanova as StellanovaOnLine. I had managed to get the domain Stellanova.pub and StellanovaOnLine.com and .net for a mere 30 dollars a year.

        SCV and I were the primary participants as the back end stuff and I was, as in its previous incarnation, the publisher and managing editor. I had more help this time though, R and M were on board as layout and art direction, as well as R illustrating one of my serial stories. N was being supportive, and agreed to reprise, for a little while only, her column. There were also a couple of former gamer students there B and D for photography and other content. We were having a lively discussion about the proposed look and feel of the site as well as the work flow.

        I wanted to use the two blank chalkboards, but there was no chalk in the room. I knew that I had chalk in an aluminum chalk holder somewhere in my office at home, but, even though by this time I knew I was dreaming, I didn't just make it appear so I could use it. I wanted the realism level to continue. The group dispersed for a five minute break, and we all searched the nearby rooms for a piece of chalk. Apparently there was none to be had. At that point I just proposed that we make notes on A's palmtop and gather around to see what layout and workflow we were talking about. It was not as good a discussion at that point so we just appointed A to take good notes and spread back out across the room.

        I discovered that I had a bottle of antacids in my backpack, so while listening to the conversation I took one out and tested it on the board. It worked. I wiped it off, and it wiped off almost as easily as chalk would. I started laying out the ideas we'd talked about earlier and made a diagram of the web site flow and the work flow as we discussed things. I found myself sorting through my antacids for different colored ones for different parts of the diagrams. Every so often my fingernails would scrape, and I would shiver and drop the remains of the tablet. I had to start digging for another one of the same color. There was a slight fruity smell to the antacids that I could smell when I stood close to the board.

        When our discussion was finished, A brought out his camera and took shots of the board, and then shots of us in front of the board, and then we joked with B about being our official photographer, but not having her camera with her. I stayed behind to clean the board, as I didnt think the antacids would stain, but didnt want to take the chance.

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Thursday, May 24, 2007

Life Changes After Trying to Bike to Work

        I dreamed I could hear the traffic so thick that I decided to ride my bicycle to work. I changed into sweat pants and a long sleeved t-shirt, then stuffed my work clothing, my notebook, pager and wallet as well as a change of underwear into my bag. I rode into town. Surprised at how easy the lower gears were for making my way up the hills leading to the freeway. I expected that I would have to pump much harder than that.

        The freeway off ramp was spilling out into the main roads, and there was little room to ride. Drivers were trying to make three lanes out of two. I couldn't even make it across the road at Center City the traffic was so thick, so I backtracked to another smaller street by dismounting and walking my bike over a median strip and climbing a small fence. I snagged my bag on the fence as I reached over for the bike, but despite the tearing noise I couldn't find a rip or torn seam so mounted up and rolled across the grass to the street.

        I rode down the side street until it turned into the driveway of a mall area. I suddenly found myself riding indoors amongst a bunch of shoppers and other cyclists. I dismounted again, looking around for an exit. I saw a parking lot through a couple of glass doors and exited the mall. I started to ride across the parking lot, but its entrance was blocked off by the tents of a craft fair. A pair of older women stooped, laying out Persian style rugs, like cots in a barracks, or graves in a graveyard. They placed a bolster at one end of each carpet. I had to ride a wheelie, using the bike as a unicycle, so I could get in between the staggered rows of carpets. I didnt understand how they blocked my path so quickly.

        One of the women asked me to help for a bit, and since I was all ready going to be quite late, I agreed. I dismounted and chained my bike to their tent.

        "Can you ride a unicycle?" one of them asked.

        "Yes, it's actually easier than riding a wheelie like that."

        "Oh! I didn't know that."

        I helped them lay out the rest of their stock. By the time I was finished, it was night, and the fair was locked up. I hadnt noticed the time passing. I looked out over the carpets, well over a hundred of them. It really did look unnervingly like a graveyard, especially in the failing daylight.

I slept in the tent while the women retired to their camper. During the night one of them came out to me, Humor an old woman, just a cuddle?

So I did just cuddle. She whispered to me, words and not words, sweet thoughts and terrifying thoughts. I managed to sleep after kissing the old woman on the forehead as she finally finished her recitation and dropped into sleep.  By morning, her body felt far firmer and smelled much nicer than I imagined an old lady would. I resisted my bodies urges and continued to cuddle her, falling asleep again.

In the morning a younger women called me into their camper. She was partly disrobed, her breasts were larger than I remembered and she looked about thirty rather than sixty.

        "We need to go now, but thank you for your help, and for not taking advantage."

        "Good thing I didn't notice."

        "Midnight we became young again, then we will age throughout the day."

        "Will I see you again?" I asked.

        "It is possible." She and her partner backed out through a window and vanished almost as soon as their feet hit the ground on the other side. I heard several people outside the tent. My bike was gone. I didn't feel all that bad about it for some reason. (Normally that sort of thing would send me into a rage.)

        The people outside the tent were police, so I reported that my bike had been stolen. I gave them the license number, or as much of it as I could remember. They wanted to know where the old ladies were.

        "They slipped out the window." I told them, figuring the truth was the best way to go.

        "And you didn't find that odd?"

        "Of course I did, but what was I supposed to do about it? Wrestle them to the ground. I didn't know you were after them, and I didn't know my bike was gone."

        "Of course not."

        For some reason I began to suspect that the police had taken my bike away. I dressed, but the only clothing in the tent was a brightly colored pants and shirt with a gold embroidered vest. I thought about telling the police that my bike clothing (sweat pants and a t-shirt, really) were gone, but I found my bag with my work clothes and wallet in it, so didn't make a big deal about it. By the time my interview was over, I had a half dozen customers lying on the carpets with their heads or feet up on the bolsters. I made my through them, each one getting a short fortune, or advice on a question they had, but hadn't really asked. As each person left, happy or unhappy depending on what Id told, each paid me 64 dollars and 64 cents in exact change, every one of them, every time. When each customer left, they took their carpet, rolled it up around their bolster, and then vanished into the crowd. I knew that by the end of the day I would have slightly more than half of the carpets left. There would be exactly enough for the clients I would have tomorrow, who would also go away, happy or sad, resolved to change or remain the same, each leaving me with 64 dollars and 64 cents each. The police would be back in the morning to check my sellers permit, which I knew they would find in order, and then I would load up my tent and drive away in the caravan to another show in another city. I might see the ladies again, or I might not. I prepared for sleep in the tent (I was not quite ready to move into the trailer, besides the sisters might have unfinished business there.)

        I thought it was a more than fair trade for my bicycle.

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Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Peeping Tom Has Another Owner? N Warning, Gory Stuff, Don't Read.

        I dreamed that there was a pre-teen girl plopped down on our living room floor. Everywhere she went, the old pink carpet appeared. She was sort of melancholy, not very talkative. What I could get out of her was that she was Peeping Toms owner. I explained that Peepers had come with the house, and wed taken as good care of him as hed allow. He was getting old now, but seemed, save for his nose to be in good health.

        I let Peepers into the house; he went right to the girl. She petted him a bit, and then he came over to visit me and get rubs. I noticed that something wasnt right about his waist. His fur was combed funny. I reached to smooth it down and he barked at me.

        I noticed that there was quite a bit of fur missing, and there were two lines of crude black stitches, one just in front of each hip. The wounds the stitches were meant to close were a couple of inches long each. The flesh around the stitches was red and swollen. The wound on the left (his right side) was pulled open and you could see the moist interior subcutaneous layer and bits of muscle below that.

        Weve got to get him to the vet. Now we have some idea of what happened when he went missing the last couple of days.

        The girl insisted that she was going to go along, because Peepers was coming with her.

        Lets get him fixed up first. Then we can figure out what your part in this is.

        I didnt want to leave him.

        I couldnt really figure out how she could have left him, as Peepers was almost certainly older than the girl. It was at that moment that I realized that the girl was some sort of apparition. Then shortly after that, I realized I was dreaming and awoke, trembling, in a sweat, calling out for help with the injured cat.

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Cruise Interrupted

       I dreamed I was on a cruise ship. The cruise had been at sea for several days, having been unable to pull into the port at our destination (islands, the Galapagos ) due to weather and eventually time. We were pulling back into San Diego, and the cruise line was giving us half off vouchers on our next cruises. Personally I thought they should either refund the whole cruise or make good on the tour in another fashion. I know we'd been wined and dined for ten days, but we'd only been to one port, and that not the main stop of the cruise.
       I walked through one of the grand salons, and noticed that the fabric panels in the ceiling were made of the same pattern material as the bedspread in my cabin. I mentioned that to someone and she joked that was so if the ship "went all Poseiden on us," we'd have a soft landing.
       As I went by one of the outer windows I could see into the Convention Center, and I could see that they were preparing the CC for The San Diego Comic Convention. The whole Toucan mascot was back, as well as the eye logo. I mentioned that to one of the people who was in the hallway. He indicated that he would be there next week.

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Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Fantasy Army Mission, Hot Tub Music

        I dreamed that I was taking an army around a Wookie infested forest after distracting them with fire arrows launched against an abandoned barn in a nearby town. The dream kept switching views between a tabletop representation and me in the field with my troops.

        We were at war with the government of humans, but not with the humans or nearby wookies themselves. We were desperately trying to keep the casualties to a minimum, but I couldn't convince my superiors to let me in with a small unarmed party. (In a perfect campaign, there would be no casualties, not even the tyrant we were attempting to remove.) It was my plan to violate orders a little bit and send in a team of specialists to try to kidnap the tyrant, then to use the defensive - shields up - tortoise maneuver to race for the border. No muss, and as little fuss as possible.

        I fully expected that once we had the leader his supporters would not want to jeopardize his life, and his detractors would not try to stop us, so it was just getting possession of the tyrant that posed the problem.

        I liked the way the display of the miniatures captured the feeling of people and wookies rushing to put out the barn fire. I hoped the rest of the plan would go as well.

        While waking up this morning I was dreaming that I was out in the hot tub with a leggy brunette woman (who I don't recognize) there was a radio or CD playing "Video Killed the Radio Star" so loud that I could still hear it as I was waking up. (And too soon to get to the good stuff.) The song stuck in my head half way to work.

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Saturday, May 19, 2007

Recording, 3D Mummy, Desert Road Trip

       Recording of "The King and I" for the drama group at the small town HS I had started working for. I had made a recording directly off the mixer board to demonstrate the quality you could get from it. I put it in the drama teacher's office and had it playing through her small desk speakers so she and the kids could hear it when they came in after their rehearsal. It got a very good reception and we agreed to use the mixer board to feed the audio track of the video they were making.
       I then dreamed that I had made, textured and partially colored a virtual miniature of a headless mummy. I stopped coloring it because it didn't look right. I then constructed and rendered a diorama (again, virtual) of its tomb, including its sarcophagus, which had some rather intricate carvings on it from a dream I'd had. There was an adjacent throne room, I had some trouble moving and placing the mummified deity on the throne, it wouldn't sit upright. I thought I'd accidentally applied some sort of physics or constraints, but couldn't find them in the model tree. Finally I gave up and left the mummy slumped over almost sliding out of the throne like it had just not had enough energy to make it fully to the throne.
       S and C and A and C were traveling with N and I in some sort of adventure/roadtrip. We'd rented a truck to tow the caravan wagon I'd built, and N and I had all of the cats with us. We were out in the desert in New Mexico or Arizona exploring an old abandoned mine (rumored to be haunted) when a section of the tunnels rumbled some distance from us.
       We raced over to see what was going on. S and I winding up our LCD flashlights as we approached. When the dust settled, we were in a carved room that looked just like my diorama, even down to the relief carved into the sarcophagus. Only S and I wanted to go on after that.
       I quickly found the opening to the throne room, and there, in the bright blue light of the our LED flashlights, was the decayed remains of the mummy slumped against the gilded throne. It looked, from the layer of dust on it, like it wasn't finished being colored either.
       "Now, that's just creepy," S ventured.
       "Better get some pictures, or no one will believe this. Good thing my Blender files are time stamped." I pulled the camera out of its case and handed the remote flash to S.
       About the third shot of the room and we heard a noise behind us. The mummy, though headless, had straightened itself in the throne. I took one last shot and then S and I started running.
       "I don't remember that happening in the game!"
       "We never got that far..."

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Friday, May 18, 2007

Road Trip

Road Trip

        I dreamed I was on a road trip, again through a desert. I had stopped at a covered Gas Station, just to get some shade and allow the engine to cool off.

Crossed Wires

        The car stopped working after getting an oil change. I went under the hood to try to figure out what was going on. The mechanic was waiting for me to give up and pay them to do the work.

        “It was just an Oil Change!”

        I looked, there was a six lead wiring harness, the connectors were visible through the gap in the spade lugs and the connectors were color coded. 

        “Shouldnt the connectors be color coded?” I asked.

        “Of course they are,” the mechanic responded, then stopped before saying anything further.

        I pulled the connectors off, sure enough; they were color coded to match the plugs. They were in exactly the reverse order. “Now, why would anyone have pulled these connectors off and reversed them like that?”

        The mechanic just stuttered but didnt actually say anything. I twisted the flat cable around and plugged the wires in the right order, then noticed that two of them were loose from the bottom connector. I was really starting to get angry.

        “You need a special tool to fix those…”

        “How do you even know what Ive found here? Im thinking youd better make out a purchase order, Im billing you for this.”

        “You cant do that!”

        “You guys broke it, and I want to know what else your mechanics have tampered with. “

        I pulled a pair of chopsticks out of my kilt pocket and used them to put the cable connectors back in place. I put the .mp3 player into record mode. Call the technician and the owner if you will, I want to talk to them.

        I dont think I can do that

        Fine, lets call your deputies then.

        How about if we refund your oil change? he asked.

        Tell me what else you messed around with in here.

        Ill call the guy who worked on your car.

        I dont know how things turned out with the car, as the dream shifted to a completely different location. I was in a swimming pool and it was dusk turning into full on night. The sky was crystal clear and the Milky Way looked like fog you could see so many stars. I was swimming with several women, who, as soon as it started getting dark began taking off their swim suits and throwing them at me. It was just light enough to get some very tantalizing glimpses.

        Unfortunately I awoke before I could really take advantage of the situation.   

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Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Dinosaur Roundup

        I dreamed, again, of dinosaurs. This time there was music, "la la Boston, Jack! la la " I couldn't get the tune out of my head this morning, but the drive in to work has erased it now. Still, I had a big stripped dinosaur mount or partner, riding herd on a bunch of frilled four-footers with stubby nose horns. "Them ain't milkin' cattle partner they're 4 tons of earth movin muscle."

        It was meant to be a long trip. I had a huge set of saddle bags with full tent and provisions. Half dozen smaller but also striped raptors were wearing panniers as well. They didn't have riders, though. Apparently this part was a solo drive for me. I, my mount, and six raptors were driving about 400 frills to market. (Not a meat market, but a labor market.) The raptors were pretty intelligent; there was a sort of abbreviated language I used to communicate with them. (They were all wearing GPS and radio harnesses that had an earphone and a microphone so they could call back to me and my mount, I had a tablet monitor on the saddle with a map showing my raptors and the herd.

        My mount was not the same species as the herding raptors, and it was much more like a partner than a mount. I was definitely better educated, and in many ways smarter, but we could communicate in both English and dinosaur, and he could smell birds flying by and see the text on a page a couple of hundred yards away. (Not something you wanted to have hunting you down. I had an in dream memory of working on an escaped prisoner posse with him.)

        We joined a larger group of frillies and their watchers. One of them was a woman who'd recognized me long before I'd recognized her. "She smells ready for you, partner," my T-Rex sized partner informed me, long before we made it to the campsite.

        "Thanks, buddy. It's always good to know what we're getting into."

        I woke up looking forward to riding with the large herd, then realized that the only T-Rex around was the cat.

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Monday, May 14, 2007


        My Dreams were convoluted last night, starting and stopping in several different threads. I would start a plot line, something to do with the cats all crowded into my car, to suddenly find myself sitting in an armored vehicle that was sliding sideways down a muddy embankment. There would be some sort of water event, and then, suddenly, I would be back inside Little Red with T-Rex and Little John competing for space under my feet. 

        People kept asking me questions about the new Harry Potter novel, and I had to explain to them, each caller, that I wasnt involved with that. Our shared world novels had nothing to do with Rowlingss Harry Potter stories, and in fact there werent even any magic or psychic powers in them at all. A caller was indignant and wanted to know why anyone would want to read something so far fetched. And wizards and house elves and Hogwarts School of Magic isnt far fetched?

        Magic is real, man.

        Then think of this as speculative fiction where magic isnt real.

        But that would be just like normal.

        Ah, yeah. I could tell I wouldnt be winning this debate. We just have cool science, and people who believe magic is real, and people who try to convince others that magic is real.

        And space aliens?

        Yes, there are aliens.

        So, do they invade, or something.

        Only our imaginations, you see, they live far away in space and time, too far to visit us, but were receiving their transmissions.

        But theyre trying to take over, right.

        No, the messages are 210 years old, Our response to what were hearing and seeing wont reach them for another 210 years. Its more of a difficult cultural shift for some people.

        So youre not basing this on any of the races that are visiting us now?

        Um, no. Wed like to think this is all original works.

        There was a flying thing going on, and knights in armor (The wearable kind as opposed to the drivable kind). I was being chased at one point by squeaking dinosaur like things, and had to stop periodically to summon up a whirlwind, which picked up all sorts of sharp debris and spun it around in the area in front of me. The squeaking dinosaurs would be held back for a couple of minutes and I would be able to get ahead of them.

        As I was waking up this morning my brain was trying to make recognizable plot lines out of all the events and images. The slender mass above is all I could come up with. There were several evocative images, just no real context for them.

        What are squeaking dinosaurs supposed to be?

        We had an RPG session Saturday, so the knights and magic stuff probably came from that experience. But why would I ever try to put 10 cats into Little Red? There wasnt even a dream context for that one, no disaster, no road trip, the house was right there because the car was in the driveway when the dream started.

        Oh, I was on a radio show, and there were photographers shooting pictures of the show for the podcast. I kept telling them we needed to call my co-author and get him in on the interview, but apparently they only had two lines, and both had callers on them waiting to ask questions. This may or may not have been related to the Harry Potter incident earlier.

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Friday, May 11, 2007


        The cats kept walking all over me. John bit me on the chin. Giles kept banging the electric cords under the headboard. I finally got so mad that I yelled at Giles to leave the cords alone and pulled the covers up over my head and pushed all the cats over to N's side of the bed.

        Then I actually fell asleep for a few minutes, just enough to hear the dream chimes and shuffling in my ears that means I'm about to have a sort of 'waking' dream, sleep paralysis, hallucinations, voices, pops and bangs, before falling into a deep restful sleep. Then the cats all decided that it was time for breakfast and I had to get up and feed them.

        Destiny - the ultimate, "no matter where you go, there you are."  Mine is, apparently, to be a cat butler.

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Thursday, May 10, 2007

T-Rex and Giant Alligator

       I was out at a sort of Mall, pretty much the same mall as I always dream of, when I heard a ruckus on a street across the parking lot. I made my way past the movie theater and out into the street. A large, say 10 meter long, alligator was threatening people and pushing cars around like they were Tonka toys.
       The police arrived, but seemed to not know what to do. Bullets, of course, didn't seem to even get its attention. I was wondering if there was something I could do, other than pull people out of cars and run them to safety (I helped get drivers out of a couple of cars before the car smashing stopped.) I saw the alligator lift its head and sniff the air as though it was trying to figure something out. Behind me, I heard a low loud rumble, almost like thunder, but far more localized.
       I turned and there was a black and green skinned Tyrannosaurus Rex. For a split second I thought we were in serious trouble, then it turned to me and slowly blinked both eyes at me. I sent back the kitty kiss. The T-Rex chuffed, and then charged the alligator.
       I then heard theme music and the nature documentary voice over, "T-Rex versus Megadon, a conflict far from the watery habitat that would favor the aquatic reptile, can only result in one outcome, barring serious miscalculation on the part of the faster avian competitor."
       Meanwhile the street had emptied and even the police had drawn far back. I used my walking stick to vault onto the underside of an overturned van so that I could see better. As the two circled one another I shouted encouragement to the T-Rex. Who roared and feinted low, then jumped high in the air, landing with one leg on the alligator's back and the other pinning the plated tail in the rear facing claw. The van rocked with the impact and I just managed to support myself by bracing legs apart and leaning forward on the walking stick.
       "Cool dinosaur." I thought as I woke up.

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Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Alternate Reality Job

        I dreamed I was traveling with three models. The traveling was in order to shoot locations with interesting geology or biology. All the models were jabbering at me constantly, I finally had to ask the hotel to give me a room on the other side of the building from them. While they were willing to run in and out the adjoining door, they weren't willing to run across the parking lot. I was looking forward to a peaceful night for a change.

        When I got to my new room I downloaded a bunch of photos and picked some of the best to send to my editor. I then sorted the rest into portfolio groups for the models, the sites and myself.

        The whole dream had a "this is what I do for a living now," feel about it, even though it isn't even close to what I do for a living. Seems like I was working far longer hours than I do now, but I felt happy, tired, but happy.

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Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Pit Fight

       I dreamed a night of random seeming images, but one really stuck with me. I was in a shallow crater blasted out of a concrete floor in a sort of indoor arena, something like a gymnasium or basketball court. In the bottom of the crater was a thirty or forty foot high brick column that ended just below the rafters of the place, and possible freedom.
       There were growls and hissing from under the edge of the concrete floor, and I could sense creatures coming into the bowl of the crater from beneath the blasted edges. I had to move, and soon.
       There was also a tower of boxes and barrels, easier to climb, I hopped up on them, and realized right away that it was a trap. Both the increased speed of the slithering, and the cheers of the crowd gave that away. As whatever had filled the bowl crashed into the wobbly pile, I leapt to the brick tower, knowing that I was going to be a bit behind in the race to the top because of my first miscalculation. I kicked off my shoes as I crossed to the pillar.
       There were chomps and tearing of the shoes, lots of cheers for the action, mixed with some boos and catcalls from the spectators that realized I'd just bought myself more time. Soon they would be disappointed in another way. My legs didn't end in feet.
       I had two opposable thumbs on my lower hands. I could easily grasp the corners of the brick tower and nearly ran up on all fours. Stopping to pull the loose bricks (boy was this game rigged) I found every so often and then pelt the heads of the climbing fur-covered feather-headed snake-demons chasing after me. I resolved to slow down and take out as many of them as I could before making my own escape. The angry crowd was working themselves up to come after me themselves, but I had planned a distraction for them.
       I made sure I always waited to knock the demons down when they were on the narrow side of the pillar closest to the edge of the crater. Soon the pile of bodies allowed the fallen ones to survive, and more to the point, gave them a ladder of fallen comrades with which to make their way out of the bowl and into the crowd.
       When the first one did so, the crowd broke and ran. I knew I was going to be able to escape in the confusion.

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Monday, May 07, 2007

[Warning, Offensive Dream Title] No Time for Retards

        I dreamed I was sent back to school against my will. I'd just transferred into a class, having been moved (transported) from another state. I could only find seats in the back of the classroom where there were two open seats. I took the one next to a slender student with a huge afro. The other student was a very large woman who looked like she needed her space.

        We were watching a "motivational" video, No Time for Retards. The video had been created by a Special Education student. After a lecture about the inappropriateness of the title, but appropriate given the circumstance, the video started.

The video was a music video that explained how the student actually saw the world. It was obviously an amateur effort, but was well crafted none-the-less. There were many interesting images with reversed letters and other such items. The student walking or running in the direction opposite the general flow of traffic, or being pushed off the sidewalk or forced up onto trashcans, mailboxes, bus benches.

There was one part that was sort of an overlapping set of numbers and symbols, the student was grabbing a number and trying to connect it to the proper card image as it floated across the screen. (Nice graphics effects here, simple but effective multiple exposure technique.) The closer the student got the faster the cards began to drift around the image. If the student accidentally touched a card with the right number but a different symbol the number would change and then he would start chasing the right symbol.

        As I was watching I thought that would make an interesting challenge or a flash game. After the student's video there was a much longer and far more boring section where a TV personality (from where the student lived, not recognized by me or anyone else in the class) was interviewing the kid and trying to explain the meaning of the video.

        "What it means is obvious," the man next to me said.

        "Yeah, if you have to explain it, then it didn't do what it was supposed to."

        "So, are we going to get to make our own films?"

        "I'm sure that's where this is headed, even though most of us don't have anything worth saying." I was not looking forward to the 'motivational' assignment that was sure to follow. "Mandatory relevance headed our way."

        "Sha' got that right." The afro-student laughed, bringing us unwanted attention from the instructor.

        The instructor told me to stay after class.

        "You sat in the wrong seat, gonna straighten your ass out after class."  The afro-student was trying hard not to laugh. "Didn't you notice, this is the brown section of class?"

        I looked, and the class was arranged from front to back from the lightest and blondest, to the darkest, with my white haired and white bearded self sticking way out of place. I smiled, whispered my best Steve Martin impersonation "You mean, I'm not black?"

        Now the entire back row was laughing.

        All of you stay after class!

        My fault, I made a joke, I attempted to ease it over for them. (It really was my fault, after all.)

        They know what theyre in trouble for!

        I found myself wondering how the instructor could actually keep us after class, since we were all adults. Then, I realized, this was sort of a political correctness re-education camp, and, though not currently visible, I was relatively certain there were government employees with guns involved. I suppose they could make us stay after class. I wondered why no one else seemed to find the segregation odd, particularly in a class on tolerance.

        I just want to say that I find it odd that we hand guns to people we dont know and then tell them make me behave. Seriously, what makes us think they are any less screwed up than we are?

More found poetry (Thank you spammers.)

In midday the malformed

Internet Explorer 7.0 Beta

A simple and safe way to weigh less

I have no idea of its significance, but it struck me as funny when I read it out loud.

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