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Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

I was an acrobat, performing at a Best Buy store. I was also naked, as part of the show. I didn’t have a problem with it though. They used footage from the event in a TV commercial.
 
What I recall from my last dream:

I was in a buffet, helping myself to eight slices of toasted French bread — four with just butter, four with dark plum jam. Beside me in the line was a young Dina Meyer. She let me grab her sweet can.

eaf6f4393d0fa15a4a2adc0ec55ff6a8.jpg
 
My first polyamorous dream.

I was a teenager, standing with my girlfriend in a school hallway by some lockers, making out passionately. As we stopped to take a breath, a lovely girl approached us. She was clearly attracted to my girlfriend, and my girlfriend to her, so they French kissed right in front of me. I wasn't angry or jealous; I only wanted my turn at kissing this girl. But when I leaned in, she stopped me, making it clear she wasn't interested in my tongue. Respecting her bounds, I took an amicable step back.

My girlfriend and I were then soon approached by another girl — a girl who resembled an older, bespectacled, brunette version of Ponyo from the eponymous anime. She wanted a kiss from me. I didn't find her attractive, but I didn't want to leave her dejected, so I slipped her some tongue.
 
@"Duragizer" we don't need to hear this stuff, thanks.

Not to mention the previous post, which I missed.  Knock it off.
 
I had a dream the other day where Peter Laird released a director's cut of the first Ninja Turtles movie.
 
TVs Frink said:
@"Duragizer" we don't need to hear this stuff, thanks.

Not to mention the previous post, which I missed.  Knock it off.
Click to expand...

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Had a series of strange dreams last night. The only one I recall with any clarity was quite disturbing. My father showed up, alive. Though I knew he was supposed to be dead, no one else remembered his death.

I don't often have bad dreams, but this was certainly one of them.
 
Here's a bizarre dream. Creepy, but not what I'd consider a nightmare.

I visited my local food bank to receive a hamper. Unlike in reality, the food bank was the size of a hotel. Thousands of people had come to receive food, but there wasn't enough staff to serve them in a timely manner, so tempers began to rise, with visitors cursing out the workers, some of whom began to suffer nervous breakdowns from the abuse heaped upon them.

The dream then shifted focus. It was the '80s, and a boy was standing over a cliff overlooking a large lake. A prepubescent white kid, he was dressed only in swimming trunks. He either jumped or fell in, dashing his head against the rocks on the way down. With a bleeding head wound, he floated onto the shore of a local beach, where he was spotted and dragged in by beachgoers. This boy, who was white, suddenly was black, and his head was missing. It was implied his head was eaten by the ghosts haunting the beach.

This beach belonged to a small park only a couple acres in size. Prior to the 1920s, it had been used as a graveyard for Chinese immigrants, though by the 1930s, it had ceased to be used as a burial ground; only a pair of turn-of-the-last-century cremation ovens left outside to rust and a handful of water-eroded graves stood as testament to the original purpose for this plot. All this was related to me by the ghost of a Chinese woman who had died in a fire; her burns diminished as she told me the story.
 
Here's a stupid dream:

When Denis Villeneuve said his Dune would be Star Wars for adults, he meant that quite literally; the script for his movie placed Dune inside the SW Universe. The Bene Gesserit were an all-female Jedi splinter group; Duke Leto and Poe were one-and-the-same character; the Harkonnens had a fleet of TIE fighters.

One absurd image from the dream has stayed clear in my mind: a TIE fighter, chained to the moon, desperately trying to take off but failing, repeatedly chipping its panels against the stony ground. No, not the moon of Arrakis or any other world from Dune — Earth's moon; the big blue marble hung right up there in the sable sky.
 
Monica Lewinsky was walking along a rocky mountain path all by herself, carrying in her arms an enormous Yukon Gold potato, when a man with a machete-sized butcher knife leapt out and attacked her. He tried stabbing her through the potato, but it got stuck in the tuber. After failing to pull it free, he ran away.
 
In the '70s, my mother wrote a screenplay adaptation of Philip K. Dick's Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said. It was an adaptation in name only; the plot and characters were wholly original. The screenplay was picked up by a major studio and made into a movie starring Yaphet Kotto and Leslie Nielsen. Kotto's character as an assassin, hired to kill a number of different people; Nielsen's character was the detective tasked with apprehending him. During the course of the film, Kotto's character ended up killing Nielsen's, sending him sliding down the side of a skyscraper to his death.
 
I created a time machine and went back to the early 2000s and met all of The Strokes at a live show. I went backstage to find out Nikolai and Julian were getting it on for some weird reason.
 
I keep clicking on this thread and then forgetting which thread I'm in. It takes me a moment before I realize these things didn't really happen, much disappointment
 
jrWHAG42 said:
I keep clicking on this thread and then forgetting which thread I'm in. It takes me a moment before I realize these things didn't really happen, much disappointment
Click to expand...

I bet you were majorly disappointed about this one
I know I was.

Duragizer said:
My girlfriend and I were then soon approached by another girl — a girl who resembled an older, bespectacled, brunette version of Ponyo from the eponymous anime. She wanted a kiss from me. I didn't find her attractive, but I didn't want to leave her dejected, so I slipped her some tongue.
Click to expand...
 
FE popped into my dream last night, I dreamt that I was taking over fanedit.org and took it off @reave and the second he went the site just vanished off the face of the universe.
 
I was a disembodied entity travelling through a living cityscape straight out of an M. C. Escher print. Inhabiting this cityscape were mouthless, legless semi-humanoid beings which somewhat resembled the robot from the Looney Tunes short Robot Rabbit. Playing through the air was music I can only describe as "synthwave jazz".

Then I found myself within an infinite corridor similar to the one from Escher's Another World (Other World Gallery). In each partition of the corridor were two persons — one unique individual, each with their own particular neurosis, and one identical matronly woman in horned rimmed glasses discussing Freudian/Jungian psychology. I found myself in the "alpha chamber", the only chamber with three walls; on that wall behind me hung a poster with pictographic depictions of an infinite corridor. I found myself inhabiting the body of a bald, ugly, stoop-shouldered man with an irresistible compulsion to kiss the hand of every woman he came across. After he/I forcibly kissed the hand of my matron, she showed him/me a card. On the card was a drawing of an androgyne. Unable to process the male/female aspects of the drawing, he/I froze, incapable of any further action.

The dream probably would've continued, but I was rudely awakened. :@
 
I was in a forest. My sister had given me a marijuana brownie, which I ate. I quickly became anxious, as she'd made it with sativa. I told her she should cultivate some indica strains, then I wandered off into the woods with my girlfriend, Jane (who, IIRC, was literally Jane Seymour). I hugged her close to me as we walked through the woods together, all lovey-dovey. Also, we were both wearing 19th century clothing; she had on a heavy dress with a bonnet, me a black suit with a string tie.

We soon emerged in a clearing, where we found a prodigious white Antebellum mansion. We went inside; the interior was all pristine, completely uninhabited.

As we settled down in our new home, we looked out through the open front door; coming towards us was Orson Krennic, a mob of ornery white Southerners accompanying him. They swarmed into the house before we could get away, holding us prisoner. I believe they fully intended on lynching us, but then Inigo Montoya came to our aid, running one of the blackguards through on his sword.

I really wish I remembered how the dream ended. Jane and I escaped, at any rate.
 
Some context for this dream. On 1 February, 2019 my father passed away after a short battle with cancer. On 11 of last month, after over two years of chronic hospitalization, my mother passed away from complications with COPD.

I was asleep in my bed when I felt a presence with me. Opening my eyes, I found my father sitting over me. He appeared to be about 25-30 years younger than he was when he passed. He told me he'd been sent from Bethlehem to watch over the family. Then he disappeared. I was elated, but didn't tell anybody else about my experience. Then I began to realize something was off. Him being sent from Bethlehem didn't make any real sense, since it's a physical town, not a spiritual location. Also, in this setting my mother was still alive, which I knew was wrong. At this point I realized I was in a dream and woke up.

Except I didn't wake up. It was a false awakening. Then I woke up. Except I didn't. Then I woke up. But I still hadn't. I was trapped in a cycle of false awakenings, one quickly sequeing into the next.

I emerged from the cycle. Getting out of bed, I went outside. In my mother's garden, she and my sister were hosting a party with a group of 5-6 people. I can't remember who all the guests were; Barbara Hershey and Vincent Van Gogh are the only two I'm certain about. I hadn't emerged from the cycle after all. My mother was 35-40 years younger than she had been. I tried making conversation with her, but she only stared into the distance, not seeming to notice me. The number of guests suddenly doubled or tripled in size. Now amongst the attendees was Tara Reid, wearing a bulky bodysuit of cabbage leaves. I took her in my arms and started peeling the leaves away, eagre to uncover her body. However, once I peeled the last of the leaves away, I found her form beneath nothing but a transparent membrane containing green protoplasm and organelles. Without the leaves to provide rigidity, her head came clean off her shoulders, killing her.

Then I emerged from the cycle. I went into the kitchen, standing over the sink, and looked out the window. The layout outside was radically different than I knew it to be; where a long unpaved driveway surrounded on both sides by empty fields should be were two neighbouring homes. My sister, with her friends Todd & Dave, were fleeing one of these properties in a hurry. My sister tripped and fell. Then she transformed into Dave, Dave transforming into a third man I'd never met before. I hadn't emerged from the cycle after all. Todd & nuDave entered the home, leading this third man into the basement. As I approached them, Todd introduced us; it was Alice Cooper.

Then I emerged from the cycle.

I think.
 
Lately had a dream which played out as if the Coen Bros. and Tarantino had collaborated on a snuff film.

I've forgotten everything about the actual contents of the dream. But that much I recall.
 
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